#what are they plotting? you don't want to know.

[humanjarvis]

caught in a lie

synopsis: when you ignore caleb’s calls, he catches you trying to run from the consequences. you make a false promise to appease his anger, not expecting your lie to unravel. but almost immediately, it does.  

tags: based loosely on caleb's "hidden waves" memory, porn with plot, manipulative!caleb x manipulative!reader, brat!reader, mean(ish) dom!caleb, caleb makes out with your cunt for an hour, reader cries, belly bulge, 3 brother mentions but they’re done ironically/out of spite, humiliation, semi-public sex (caleb makes you call and cancel plans with that friend while he fucks you), lines lifted directly from hidden waves in bold pairing: caleb x fem!reader  word count: 3.9k

a/n: love the scene this is based on bc it reminds me of my favorite book from the wattpad era in 300 BC. also this is my first time writing full-on smut and omfg i don't know how people write like 10k of it u guys are wizards. but the response to this will determine how explicitly i write going forward, no pressure

As the Skyhaven nightscape twinkles around you, you can’t help but feel like you’re forgetting something. 

You’d had a great night: Simone had invited you to a cute café, the owners had given you a free muffin, and the raging storm from this afternoon had dwindled into a drizzle. But still, a sense of foreboding loomed over you, threatening to taint the precious memories you’d made tonight.

“...And next week we can go to this new bar downtown! I heard they have the best drinks, and there’s even a puppy mascot they let walk around and play with guests. Doesn’t that sound fun?” 

“Yeah, sure,” you agree absently, Simone’s words going in one ear and out the other. “I’ll be there.”

As you walk farther down the sidewalk, the vibrant city atmosphere melts away your worries. People of all ages were out splashing in leftover puddles, trying new food stalls, and window shopping in the strip of stores that lit your path. Gradually, you give up on trying to place your unease, surrendering fully to the comfort of the cool night air.

“Hey!” you exclaim, an idea popping into your head. “Do you want to find a photobooth and take some pictures? I want something to remember tonight by.”

“Oh my gosh, absolutely,” Simone responds. “There should be one not too far from here. I went with my brother a few months back! It was really fun.”

At her words, you stop in your tracks. Her enthusiasm is no match for the dread building in your chest. 

Caleb.

Caleb who’d told you to text him when you got to the café, when you were about to leave, and when you were almost home. 

Caleb was what—or who—you were forgetting.

Slowly, you reach your hand into your purse until you feel your phone, digging it out and staring as if it were a venomous animal. Taking a deep breath, you tap the screen awake and immediately lose the air you’d just inhaled. 

7 Unread messages

4 Missed calls

3 New voicemails

Fuck.

“Uh, actually,” you start, chucking the device back into your bag, “I just realized I didn’t bring a brush! There’s no way I can take pictures without fixing my hair—it’s like a bird’s nest up there,” you ramble, giggling nervously. “Can we end the night here?”

“O…kay?” Simone says, clearly confused by the sudden shift in your mood. “Yeah, we can go back now. Your hair looks fine, though.”

Thanking the universe for giving you such an agreeable friend, you walk back to her car, the quickness of your usually unhurried steps betraying your agitation.

He’s gonna kill me, he’s gonna kill me, he’s gonna kill me, you think. 

As the familiar outline of Simone’s car comes into view, she turns to face you. “Do you want a ride to the train station? I told my girlfriend I’d be home at 1:30—I have another hour.”

“Wait!” you cry, throwing your hands out in front of you. She looks at you as if the intensity in your voice is unnecessary. Which is true, because she’s standing a foot away. Quieter this time, you ask, “Would it be okay if I spent the night at your place? Just this once, I promise.” 

“...If you really need to,” she agrees warily. “As long as you don’t mind cat hair.”

When you reach her car, Simone gestures for you to wait as she walks around to the passenger’s side. “I just need to clean up real quick. The granola bar wrappers build up when you’re constantly called in early for emergencies.” 

But when Simone pulls on the door handle, it doesn’t open. “Weird,” she mutters, wiping raindrops onto her jeans. “I swear I unlocked it.” 

She clicks a button on her keys and tries again. Inexplicably, the door still doesn’t budge. “It’s like some force is holding it shut or something,” she says. At that, an alarm sounds in the back of your mind. But before it can reach your consciousness, she continues. “Well, I have a locksmith on speed dial anyway—I’m always losing my keys. But before I call, seriously, are you ok? The way you asked me to stay over….Is there something scary waiting for you at home? Why do you look so worried?”

"It’s probably because I’m home,” the all-too-familiar voice rings out behind you. 

In an instant, your entire body goes rigid. Your now-pounding heart screams at you to run, but you can’t obey without making a scene in front of your friend. 

Plastering a smile on your face, you turn around slowly, as if the longer you took to face him, the more likely he’d be to disappear.  

You had no such luck. Towering over you, umbrella in hand, was Caleb, his normally expressive face a wall of stone. 

Despite his obvious anger, he steps forward to shield you from the downpour and you refrain from taking a step back—against your better judgment.

“Caleb!” you remark, your voice shrill with unease. “What a surprise!”

Ignoring your greeting, Caleb turns his attention to Simone. “Skyhaven isn’t very safe tonight,” he says coolly. “You’d better get home.”

The finality in his words makes it clear: you won’t be joining her. 

“Um, sure,” Simone trails off, wary eyes searching yours. “Will you be alright?”

“...Yes, it’s okay.”

Though your words don’t seem to convince her, Caleb’s penetrating glare does. She quickly walks to the driver’s side and effortlessly pops the door open—surprise, surprise—before jumping in. Giving you one last look, your only chance at salvation drives into the night.

The ride back to Caleb’s house is silent. You scoot as close as you can to the window beside you, paying no mind to the intensifying patter of rain against the glass. All that you notice is how he grips the steering wheel tight enough for his knuckles to turn white. 

When you pull into his driveway and exit the car, he walks closely behind you, preventing any more last-minute escape attempts. His imposing presence follows you inside and all the way to his bedroom. 

When you both cross the threshold, the air thickens with tension as you stand in silence, unmoving. 

“Well, goodnight!” you call when you can’t take it anymore. But before you can take one step, Caleb swings the door shut with his Evol. Huh, you think. Doors must be his speciality tonight.

“Where do you think you could possibly be going after the night you gave me?” he asks, steely voice cutting through your thoughts.

“Listen—” you start, but he cuts you off. 

“You ordered coffee three times. Burst out into laughter I could hear from outside six times. And yet, you somehow managed to check your phone zero times.”

“If you’d just given me more time, I was going to—”

“You were going to what? Because here’s what I think would have happened: If I hadn’t picked you up, you would’ve gone to your friend’s place, right? Then, you’d message me with an apology. Oh, throw in a cute emoji as the cherry on top,” he snorts. 

“With that done, you’d put your phone away and curl up into a ball to sleep. You wouldn’t even dare to check my response. You’d wait it out and believe I wouldn’t be upset. And once I’m away on a mission or somethin’...you would sneak back into the house and pretend nothing happened. Tell me,” he challenges you. “Am I wrong?”

He wasn’t wrong. He was never wrong—not about your habits, at least. 

“Okay, okay, I get it,” you snap. “I thought you said you were ‘done playing games’? You don't have to act so big brother-y all the time.”

Clearly, that was the wrong thing to say. Caleb’s head rears back, his eyes going wide in incredulity before he scoffs. 

Alright, you sigh, time to turn on the waterworks. 

Taking a deep breath, you force tears into your eyes. “Caleb,” you begin, “I really didn’t mean to ignore you. I was just having so much fun. S-someone brought their puppy to the café and I got distracted.” The café hadn’t allowed pets, but you needed all the sympathy you could get. You’d have to thank Simone for telling you about that new bar later. “I won’t do it again. I won’t even go out at night anymore—promise.”

As he takes in your pitiful expression, you see Caleb’s resolve start to crack, the twitch in his right eye giving away how much he wants to console you. Maintaining your pout, you internally grin like a Cheshire cat. He could never say no to you. He could never le—

Your phone rings.

You thought you’d turned it off in the car, but your fucking phone rings. Right when you have him where you want him. 

The shrill tone sucks the air out of the room, and with it, any hope for your escape.

“Answer it. Speaker.” His voice leaves no room for argument.

Visibly shaken, you fish your phone out of your bag and accept the call. “H-hello?”

“Hey Y/N, it’s Simone. I’m calling to check on you—that guy who took you home was kinda scary. I just wanted to make sure he didn’t do anything. Are you okay?”

At the insinuation that he’d ever harm you, Caleb’s face turns thunderous, his jaw clenching so hard you’re afraid it’ll snap. 

“No, no, I’m fine,” you reassure her. “Thanks for worrying though, that’s really sweet,” you add, your eyes darting up and immediately back down after meeting Caleb’s glower. 

“That’s great, I really was worried,” she says, relief evident in her voice. “Well, before you hang up, are we still on for same time next week at the bar I mentio—”

You hang up as soon as she reveals your plans, throwing your phone so abruptly it bounces off the chair where your purse sits and onto the carpet. But it was too late. There was no sweet-talking the irate scowl off of Caleb’s face. You’d lied. 

Like a deer in headlights, you stand frozen and helpless as Caleb stalks toward you. 

“You almost had me,” he chuckles darkly, squishing your cheeks between one hand. “And I bet you knew it, too. Remind me to thank Simone for being such a good friend later.”

His grip tightens when you try to respond, and he pulls your face closer to his instead. “I think I’ve had enough of you talking for now. No point in hearing it if you’re just gonna lie to me again.”

With uncanny speed, he lifts you by your legs and tosses you onto the mattress. When you attempt to sit up, hoping to crawl away, he captures both of your wrists in his hand and claims your lips in a bruising kiss. 

“Don’t talk.” A kiss. “Don’t move.” Another. “Don’t do anything I don’t tell you to do, and I might not chain you to this bed.” You’re so distracted by his final kiss—the exclamation point—that you barely register when he yanks your loose pants down, baring your cotton panties to him. 

When he spots the wet patch spreading through the middle, he moans, shifting to push his nose into your center. The deep inhales he takes seem to calm him down, and his voice loses some of its earlier edge when he murmurs, “Can’t believe you were keepin’ her from me tonight. Look at how much she missed me.”

He demonstrates by pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your panties, tasting you as you leak harder under his tongue. The whimper you let out falls on deaf ears as you remember his command: Don’t talk. 

Licking a stripe up your clothed folds, Caleb sighs into you in contentment. “Gonna see her in a second,” he breathes. “Just can’t give her too much at once, or she’ll get greedy.” 

He’s too far gone, you think, closing your eyes in preparation of what’s to come. But nothing prepares you for the way the seemingly sedated Caleb rips your panties open at the seam, exposing your hot skin to the cool air. 

With no hesitation, he plants a long kiss onto your core, his lips smacking against the fat of your outer folds. Covering your skin with a flurry of pecks, he moans into you, his intermittent licks becoming sloppy, appreciative kisses. 

Caleb was making out with your cunt like your brain wasn't in the room, kissing it like he hadn’t seen it in years. The sensations and lewd squelches make your arousal unbearable, but when you try to grind into his mouth—to get him to do something more—he pushes your hips into the mattress. 

“Don’t interrupt us,” he mumbles, lips still latched onto your unspread cunt. Heat rushing to your cheeks, you flop your head back down, defeated as the man ignores you to have his heartfelt reunion with your core. 

An agonizing few minutes later, you feel him press a last hard kiss against your skin before finally spreading your soaked folds. “Can’t believe you ever thought you could hide from me,” he growls, eyes sparkling. “I’ll show you you can’t. Make you never want to again.”

Slowly, he licks up and down your wetness, teasing his tongue around your entrance. You try to relax during his ministrations, knowing he won’t give you what you want this early, but he catches you off guard when he buries his tongue into your weeping, sputtering hole. 

A strangled moan escapes you as he fucks you with his tongue, twisting, turning, and circling himself inside you. 

One pulse has your walls flexing with desperation, and Caleb pulls back slightly when he feels you tighten around him. “Look at that, I think she’s kissin’ me back,” he coos, a string of his saliva refusing to part from your quivering cunt. 

Spurred on by the whine you give him, he flashes you a wicked grin before diving back in, plunging his tongue in and out at a punishing pace. 

All the while, he studiously avoids where you need him most, licking and kissing everywhere but your twitching clit—neglecting it like you did him earlier in the night.

Suddenly, he lifts his head up, flashing you a quick smirk. “You know,” he starts, licking his glistening lips. “When you were givin’ me all those crocodile tears and cryin’ about puppies earlier, you never did say sorry for trying to run. How about now, hmm?” he asks, pressing a wet kiss to your center. “You sorry?”

You pant out an incoherent moan, and he nips at your clit—the first time he’s touched it all night. Ignoring your squeal, he gives you another kiss. “I don’t know what that means. Try again.” 

You go to speak again, but Caleb suddenly rubs his nose against your clit, your resulting gasp sending your back shooting off the bed. He swiftly slams you back down with his Evol, giving you another nip. “Just two words, baby. You can do that for me, yeah? Two words, loud and clear. Want to know you mean it.”

You don’t know what it is—the last strands of your pride clinging on for dear life, your stupor after being toyed with for almost an hour, or pure stubbornness—but you can’t bring yourself to say it. With a whimper, you clamp your mouth shut, staring at the ceiling in rebellion. 

“Hmmm,” he hums, looking up at you briefly. Before you can even process it, Caleb covers your clit with his mouth and sucks, simultaneously groaning into you. The combined sensations set your nerves on fire, and you come in his mouth with a prolonged cry. 

“I’m sorry!” you wail, the tears in your eyes genuine this time. As Caleb laps up your release, chants of “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m—oh—I’m sorry,” fall through your lips, your earlier defiance reduced to blubbering submission. “Should’ve checked my phone and called you back, I’m so sorry.” 

You’ve apologized ten times over, it feels, but he won’t let up. He suckles you until it aches, and there’s nothing you can do but lie there and sob as his Evol keeps you pinned down. When he’s finally had his fill, he presses a reverent thank-you kiss to your cunt before crawling up your body, nestling in between your thighs. 

“Aw, none of that, now,” he coos, wiping under your eyes. “I forgive you, alright? I forgive you for getting distracted, baby.” Still crying, you nod frantically, leaning into his gentle touch. “But if you ever run from me again, whoever you’re with won’t like what happens when I catch you,” he promises, pressing a kiss to your lips and then your forehead before plunging into you. 

Though his pace is relentless, your walls draw him in, his earlier date with your cunt letting you take his thick length with ease. 

When the pressure builds and you shy away from his brutal thrusts, he turns your chin toward him, pressing an ironically chaste kiss to your mouth. “No running, remember?” 

As you hurtle toward your release, he leans close, kissing you briefly before speaking into your lips. “The next time you wanna ignore me—next time you wanna hide from me and lie to me sayin’ you’ll be good from now on—I want you to think of this, to think of me right here,” he murmurs, palming his cock through your belly. You squeal at the foreign feeling, but he only adds more force, and you think you’re about to pass out.   

“My baby,” he chides. “Loves to act out but she can’t handle the consequences.” While he speaks, he folds your left leg up, pushing it to your chest so he can penetrate you deeper.

“Please, Caleb!” you beg, the new angle making stars float across your vision. As your body rocks with the force of his strokes, you cry, “I said I was sorry!” 

“Mm, you did,” he nods, absorbing a tear on your cheek with a kiss. “But I don’t think you really are. Not yet.”

Without warning, he pulls out of you and flips you onto your stomach before sliding back in. Resuming his thrusts, he uses his Evol to pick your forgotten phone up off the floor. “Call her back. Speaker,” he orders. 

At first, you're flustered into hesitation, but as he holds the phone ahead of you and taps through your history to do it himself, you pull yourself together. “Wait,” you wail. “Wait. I’ll do it.”

You do it.

When Simone picks up, Caleb shows you mercy by decreasing his pace so the sound of slick skin colliding doesn’t travel through the phone. 

“Hey Y/N, what’s up? Is it about earlier? …Did something happen?” she asks in concern.

Frantically, you twist your head to look up at Caleb, not knowing what to say. 

Leisurely, he folds forward over you, his chest flush with your spine so he can whisper in your ear. Throughout his dramatics, your time to respond without raising suspicion wanes, and you grow more desperate by the second.

“Hi Simone,” Caleb finally whispers, pressing kisses to your ear in time with his languid strokes.

“H-hi Simone,” you repeat louder, a slight tremble in your voice.

“I just wanted to say thanks again for checking in. That guy, the one from earlier—he can be so mean sometimes,” Caleb murmurs, pouting his lips in ridicule. 

“I just wanted…wanted to say thanks again for checking in. The guy from earlier—hah—can be so mean sometimes,” you echo, breathless from the impact of Caleb’s hips rocking into yours.

“Can we reschedule our plans for next week? My big brother’s,” he emphasizes, mocking your earlier jab with two deep thrusts, “coming home, and he really misses me.” As he feeds you lines, the taunts in his words break through the softness of his whispers. 

As softly as you dare to, you whimper for him, hoping it’s enough for him to end his torture.

But as the phone screen goes black from inactivity, you see his smirking reflection looming over your humiliated one. The only way out is by appeasing him. 

“C-can we reschedule our plans for next week? My…my friend—” 

As soon as the word leaves your mouth, Caleb lifts off of you slightly, landing a harsh smack on your ass.

“Y/N? What was that noise? Are you alright?”

“Yes,” you all but moan as he bites your neck, reprimanding you further for breaking his script. 

“My friend is visiting next week, and he really misses me,” you finish, waiting with bated breath for her—and Caleb’s—reactions. 

“Oh…sure, Y/N. That’s fine with me. That’s a lot better than I was expecting, you sounded like you were in trouble for a second.” Caleb smirks against your ear. “Just let me know when you want to reschedule.”

“Sounds good,” you breathe as Caleb’s thrusts return to a faster pace. “I-I gotta go, I’ll see you later!” you rush, almost squealing as you end the call. 

For the nth time that night, you want to burst into tears. “I can’t believe you just did that,” you whine, your voice mixing with the renewed slaps of skin on skin. 

Chuckling, Caleb lifts off of you, his sudden absence from your cunt making you shudder. In an instant, he flips you over so you’re face-to-face before entering you again. 

“Technically, you just did that,” he smirks, his thrusts now lazy and sporadic. “I don’t remember pressing ‘call.’” His matter-of-fact tone is teasing, but you knew that if you hadn’t canceled on Simone, he’d have made good on his earlier threat. He always does. 

As you open your mouth to retort, Caleb’s face grows serious, and all your neurons responsible for making witty comebacks seem to atrophy at once. 

Caleb leans down, light bites on your throat punctuating his confession. “I can’t stop at wanting you not to run from me anymore. I want you to stay with me. To choose to, for as long as we live, for the next hundred years.” 

“But what if…” you trail off, but he understands what you’d been implying. 

At that, his eyes darken. Rutting into you with renewed fervor, he grasps your chin tightly, holding you captive in his gaze. “You’ll be around for however many years I’m alive and kicking,” he growls. And you believe him. 

Nerves alight, mind numb, and core throbbing from your impending climax, you nod as much as his iron grip allows you to. “I’ll stay,” you whisper, kissing his thumb near your lip. “Wanna stay—with you.” 

Letting out a strangled huff, Caleb surges forward, his lips meeting yours in a searing kiss. He bites your bottom lip as he presses down on your stomach once again, and you careen over the edge, feeling the hot spurts of his release intensify the flood inside your cunt. 

With a shuttering groan, Caleb collapses to your left, immediately closing the space between you with a hug. You stay like that for a while, your sore body curled into his arms as you face each other on the bed. 

“You okay?” he asks quietly, rubbing circles into your hip. “I know it was a bit much.”

“Forgive you,” you mumble into his chest. “Felt good.”

He chuckles, tapping your nose twice. “You shouldn’t forgive me so easily. Or else I’ll want to keep testing your limits.” 

When you fall asleep in his warm embrace, Caleb looks down at you intently, trying to brand the visual into any part of his commandeered mind that’d take it. Daring to disrupt the image, he gently untangles your bodies, lifting you before laying you back down on top of him. 

At peace for the first time that night, Caleb looks out the window, smiling to himself. The rain has stopped.

[penny-anna]

if voyager was like 25% racier they could have had a plot where someone stumbles on a buried holodeck program about having sex with Tom Paris and now everyone is trying to figure out who wants to fuck Tom so badly they made a whole holodeck program about it.

no-one wants to bring it up with Tom himself for obvious reasons. naturally all eyes turn to B'Elanna but she strenuously denies it. initially no-one believes her but on investigation they break the encryption and discover that it looks like Harry made the program.

Harry gets very flustered and insists that someone must have fraudulently used his credentials to make the program. but if that's the case then it was either one of the ship's other senior officers (bcos they're the only people who'd be able to fake Harry's credentials) or someone with very advanced holodeck skills

Seven is briefly considered (she has the technical skills) but is fully exonerated when they realise the program predates her time on the crew.

Seven points out that it could have been the Doctor who also has the relevant skills but the Doctor argues that he wouldn't bcos he has better taste and also if he wanted to make a secret holodeck program he'd cover his tracks better and he's right on all counts. Neelix protests his innocence and everyone's like yeah honestly we never thought it was you Neelix.

the Doctor suggests that maybe they should let the matter rest on the grounds that masturbation is perfectly natural and healthy and whoever's responsible it's their own private business but B'Elanna and Harry are like nooo this is a threat to the harmony of the crew we have to know. also we're nosy. don't you want to help us on this. and the Doctor's like yeah. alright.

B'Elanna and Harry and the Doctor can't find any evidence of fakery which makes it more and more likely that it was a senior officer. they're all eying Janeway and Chakotay and Tuvok trying to guess which one of them secretly wants to fuck Tom Paris.

Janeway seems the most likely prospect as she has technically fucked him before when they were salamanders and also like as far as anyone knows she's been functionally celibate since they got stranded so she's gotta be pretty pent up by now.

but then Tom and Chakotay have some history from their time in the Maquis so there could be something going on there??

Tuvok is the least likely by a mile bcos like he's Tuvok but then it's always the people you least suspect isn't it and last time they found a weird holodeck program it turned out to be Tuvok's so maybe?? maybe??

obviously they aren't about to bring this up with Janeway & co so they're just sitting in command meetings with their 3 most plausible suspects and Tom himself. collectively fucking sweating. unable to concentrate.

after several repetitions of this Janeway's like OK something's distracting you all. fess up so we sort out whatever it is and move on with business. and after a lot of squirming one of them breaks.

& then Tom is like ohh yeah that's my program. and they're like. say what?? and he's like that's my holodeck program I made it. for personal use.

so B'Elanna is like 'why would you make a holosex program about yourself' and he's like because I wanted to know what it was like to fuck me?? is that so wrong. get off my case.

[psycheetamore]

@houserautha : thank you for this vulnerable post. I feel you. I support you. I love you for writing this. I love you for writing TDE and the one shots.

When I first joined Tumblr I did not feel entitled to comment on anything. Now I have more of a FU, I will comment on whatever approach. So where I may not have been commenting on every single bit, I have been mentioning your work here and there.

Let me be a bit introspective. Show some of the negative impacts the point you raise, which I also undergo, have caused me to commit.

A first disclaimer to add: I know I am in no way entitled to any response from anyone. This is a me-problem. I know that. That does not mean it does not hurt. But that is not a you-problem, it is a me-problem.

I have been inclined so often to make a similar post. But what refrained me, is that I know some of the topics I explore in my fics are quite niche, and that I know my writing qualities are nowhere near for instance yours. Anyhow, it has made me feel not entitled to make this observation, but if you do it, with your wonderful writing style and mix of plot & smut, while capturing our na-Baron's heart perfectly, then I am entitled to support you by sharing my own feelings.

A bit of background on what I have tried to do to keep the fandom alive, and how it has (not) been responded to:

I try to comment increasingly on posts, trying to increase engagement and kickstart a convo. Sometimes I will go out of my way and do lenghty reposts. Yet this more often does not result in any responses than it does. Again: I am not entitled to any response, me responding does not mean anyone is obliged to respond. But even the lack of a smiley or whatever makes me feel like I am a social outcast (it throws me back to my youth, truly). Sometimes I will see in the blogger's page that they are on a spectrum, which removes that negative feeling btw - in such cases I will continue.

I became a member to a Feyd community (invitation only thing). I felt so honoured! I dragged in some of my favourite fanfic writers, who all happily obliged. Only to see that after a first few posts from my hand the responses started to decline. With the last posts resulting in zero engagement. Nobody owes me anything, but it makes it hard to stay in there. It feels like rejection (more on that below), and I have too much self respect to act like a puppy being kicked repeatedly yet coming back. Again: this is all about my feelings, and nobody owes me shit.

I write fanfic. My writing style is not there with the Feyd author gods I so adore. Working on that, pouring my heart and soul in it, and it is ok if people don't like it. Somehow, few likes and no comments allows me to see my fic as niche, while a lot of likes and no comments make me feel more empty? I don't know.

And it has started to bug me. It has caused me to have periods of negative vibes around tumblr. It has concretely caused a few types of responses:

I have stepped out of the Feyd Tumblr Community Group. I thought about it for a few months. Was very reluctant as I dragged in quite a few people. That tbh has reduced these feelings; stepping out of that has been positive for my mental welbeing.

With people who engage with me, I will return the favour. With people who don't, I will feel reluctance. With a few I even thought about unfollowing them. I prioritise commenting on authors who engage with me on a regular basis, over great authors who don't. Perhaps it is because it makes me feel they are entitled. This is bad, because this causes the downward spiral. And there could be good reasons why they do not ready any of the fics I write, even if I tag them very deliberately (I do not tag a lot). And again: I am not entitled to anything. But it hurts. And effectively it makes me respond & engage less than if I would be a 100% happy go lucky me. Want my engagement, want my engagement continuously? A little pat on the back will go a far way.

I write less than I would want to. I am an extravert. I thrive on engagement with people. Bouncing ideas of them. Lack of it has a negative impact.

Esp around christmas I felt quite horrible about all of this. It was esp the result of a few bloggers who suddenly did not respond anymore. It made me feel so rejected. Like I did something wrong. It made me contemplate quitting tumblr a couple of times. But I decided not to do that, because this is not the first time this happened, so it is something linked to me, not tumblr as such. It made me do some soulsearching. It stems from my youth. I listened to quite some podcasts, read articles etc. I learned that I am hardwired for rejection. Everything that happens, or does not happen, will be seen in my head as rejection. I feel so freaking ashamed to admit this, tbh. I have only 1 real life friend I dared to admit this to. I felt so ashamed around christmas, that I was being brought to these obsessive feelings over a fricking fandom. I am nearly at tears writing this. No, let's be honest. I am in tears.

And this is all not helping the fandom! I am showing behaviour that is not helping this fandom I so much love. With the bloggers I mentioned who stopped responding, I later on continued to have some nice convo's (but I feel held back to show myself as deeply as I did before - I am hardwired for rejection), showing it is a problem with me and how I interpret actions.

But that is all not helping the point you so rightfully raise. The topic on how we keep this fandom alive.

To keep it alive we do not need a lot of people, we need a few people who are willing to engage a lot.

In the real world my suggestion would be to gather a core group of Feyd girlies who see this as an issue and have proven to be active and supportive, and do something about it. Like voluntarily promise to try to support each other. I hoped this would be the case with the Feyd community I stepped out of last week, but unfortunately it wasn't.

This is a fandom: the fact that it is declining is by itself the rightful consequence of its members not feeling it is worth having. So, my crude conclusion is that the decline is the natural consequence of what all of us are willing to put into this.

But, now I have poured my heart and soul into this post, it has caused relief. And I have an idea. Because not only am I hardwired to find rejection and look at myself in a bad way, I am also hardwired to see solutions.

personally I think it’s a shame how fandoms “died” too soon these days. I’m not talking in literal sense and I know there are people who stay passionate about their fandoms long after the hype is gone. I’m talking about the “popularity” and how people in general engage with a piece of media they like and how fast they let the hype die down? I don’t know if I’m making any sense, but what I’m trying to say is a fanfic or a fan art of a show that is recently released will get tons of likes, comments, reblogs which is great. but the engagement for fan made content about that same show usually drops drastically — and I mean drastically — once the show is no longer “recent”. and I’m not even talking about when the show is several years old. because you can see the significant drop of engagement a fanfic or fan art about that show receives once the show is like a month old or two. it’s discouraging how most people tend to lose interest and stop engaging with fanfic / fan art once its source material is no longer “new and shiny”.

especially when writing fanfics and creating fan art take time. writers and artists often receive less engagement / appreciation for their works if they take “too long” to create and the source material is no longer “new and shiny” and so people move on to something else that’s new and shiny. it’s heartbreaking to see.

obviously this is in no way to manipulate or guilt trip people into engaging with anything. because yeah you can do whatever you want. this isn’t to force, manipulate or guilt trip anyone into liking or reblogging a fan work or anything. this is just me hoping people will one day take things slower and enjoy things they’re passionate about longer like how we used to in the past.

[roguishcat]

What books don't teach you (or how to date a wickedly charming vampire if all you know about dating is purely theoretical)

Summary: Unfortunately, having enough smutty fiction to sink a ship did not prepare you for dating (were you even dating?) Astarion. A shy/inexperienced Reader x Astarion fic where both do everything wrong but somehow end up getting it right. Set in Act II (before Astarion's confession).

Rating: Exlicit (MNDI)

Tags: MNDI, 18+, NSFW, Humour, Romance, Angst, Smut, Smut with feels, Smut with some plot, Oral (Male receiving), Masturbation (female), Vaginal Fingering, Praise kink, They are bad at communicating, Inexperienced Reader, Astarion is bad at feelings

Pairing: Astarion x female Reader (You)

Word Count: 5.5k

A/N: It's spring cleaning time, so let's get those WIPs done! 😊 This is my first finished WIP for @thekindredcollective BG3 Spring Cleaning! Should have spent more time on this before posting, but my laptop is acting up again and I want to post the story whilst I can still use it (I hate writing/editing on my phone). Comments and constructive criticism are appreciated. Please tell me if you notice mistakes and typos! Hope you enjoy the story! ❤️❤️

You wanted to put him in your mouth. There. You said it. Well, admitted it to yourself silently in the dead of night whilst completely hidden under the blanket. Which was pretty much the same thing. Sort of.

You and Astarion had already done... it. The horizontal tango, that is. Twice even!

And you were very proud of how cool, smooth and put-together you were during those times. (Astarion immediately saw through your act, of course, but that was beside the point!)

Because no matter how inexperienced you were, you remembered both nights with hot cheeks and gentle warmth blooming to life in your chest every time you thought about the time you spent enjoying each other. Prior to meeting Astarion, you had no idea that bodies and tongues could even be used in such a manner. You read about it, of course. And being a voracious reader, especially when it came to certain literature, you had a general idea of what happened between consenting adults in the bedroom. And forests, beaches, caves, country houses, castle dungeons and so on.

But to actually experience it yourself! No matter how much you let your imagination run wild, to actually have someone, and a very handsome someone at that, outdo anything you imagined had been life-changing. You had a wonderful, toe-curling, lip-biting, earth-shattering, amazing time. And you really, really wanted to reciprocate.

And therein lay the problem.

The one and only time that you dared to go down on someone, you were told quite explicitly that you were completely shit at it. Absolutely talentless. Beyond terrible. And that put you off trying something like this with anyone ever again. Or so you thought.

Because when you looked at Astarion as he lay on top of you, making you tremble and shake with every movement of his hands on your skin, it made you wonder. Wonder how he would taste. You looked at Astarion and ached. Craved to hear him gasp and moan. Watch him unravel from the skill of your tongue and hands. Because surely if others could learn to do that to other person’s orifices then you… could probably manage to be okay at it.

The thought of your late-night musings becoming reality had your cheeks burning in seconds. You sighed and hit your head on the pillow, knowing that it was an awful, terrible idea.

Astarion was experienced, beautiful, and confident. You were not. Whatever it was that made him decide to be with you in the first place would surely be outweighed by the spectacular way you would screw this up.

You sighed again, this time a deep, long sound that almost emptied your lungs.

You wondered if you could just ask someone. You were sure that at least one of your companions could give you a pointer or two. But Astarion's pointy ears seemed to catch every bit of juicy gossip, every little whisper. He would know of the full extent of your inadequacy and promptly dump you.

No. You needed to keep your embarrassing secret to yourself.

And then you had a eureka moment. Because you realised that you didn't need to ask anyone at all! What you needed was to get Gale distracted enough for you to steal one of his books. Because you were more than certain that recently Gale had come into possession of a very filthy tome that he quickly squirreled away before anyone could notice. The tome that would be your salvation.

And with this comforting thought finally allowing you to relax, you soon found yourself in the arms of Morpheus, your sleep untroubled and filled with pleasant, if a little racy, dreams.

Astarion was... concerned. Yes, he wasn't worried exactly, though he was slowly edging towards that territory. And why? Well, because their level-headed leader started acting in a manner that one could politely refer to as eccentric.

This group was already full of weirdos, and you were pretty much the only one of the lot that one could call the voice of reason. Except lately you seemed to abandon all reason and instead chose to act like a woman gone mad as you made attempt after attempt to steal something from the wizard.

You were so bad at going about it in a discreet manner that it was almost amusing. Gale did not seem to notice, but Astarion knew that the cleric and the gith did, as did Karlach. He was sure that Shadowheart and Karlach had some kind of bet going on, although he did not care to find out exactly what the terms were.

Initially, he had a fleeting thought that you were trying to get into Gale's tent for amorous reasons. That you decided to take a new lover. Astarion tried not to examine the sick feeling that twisted his gut at the thought of you leaving his bedroll cold to frolic into another person's tent. Because there wasn't any sick feeling in the first place and even if there was, he could quite reasonably blame it on indigestion.

But then he realised that you tried to sneak into Gale's tent only when the wizard was otherwise occupied, usually right about the time he was preparing meals and seemed to be engrossed in whatever he was trying to make edible.

Either way, Astarion was confused, bewildered by why you doggedly chose to pursue something that the wizard had come to possess. Your tenacity and grim persistence would be amusing had it been anyone else that was acting batshit crazy. Alas, it was the one companion that Astarion bet on to stay sane throughout the whole ordeal. And that just wouldn’t do. Not that he cared, per se. But you being predictable would definitely make things easier in the long run. Astarion had a plan, after all, and he was sticking to the said plan no matter what.

A smile curved the elf's lips as you once again failed to infiltrate enemy territory and were forced to retreat rather hastily - and inelegantly - almost smashing into a nearby tree as you made your escape. That didn't go unnoticed by the cleric, who whispered something to Karlach, making the tiefling almost spit her drink out as she tried, and failed, to suppress a laugh.  

It was at that moment that Astarion decided that he would help your poor pitiful self to steal whatever it was that you wanted to get from the wizard's tent. Because it would probably take one or two more failed attempts for Gale to notice, and that would mean that you would abandon your plan, and Astarion would never find out what it was that was worth all this trouble. Not that he cared as such. But it could be some powerful artifact, or a tome filled with nefarious spells. And if he knew what it was, he was almost certain he could convince you to share.

Later that day, as you positioned yourself strategically just outside Gale's tent, Astarion strolled up to the wizard with an air of casual boredom. Gale was busy preparing supper, chopping away at some vegetables and whatever else they managed to scavenge. Astarion snorted his disapproval at the scents emitting from the cooking pot.

"Something on your mind?" Gale chose that moment to speak up.

"Hm? Oh, no. Pay no attention to me whatsoever. I'm just pondering a dilemma of mine, and I am afraid I might not come up with an answer."

"I see, well, may I be of assistance?"

Inclining his head ever so slightly, Astarion could see you slink towards the open flap of Gale's tent, taking a step back to be swallowed up by the darkness.

Astarion smirked.

“I am not certain that you can, wizard. You see, this issue of mine would need a mind that is truly voracious. A certain someone that can unravel the unravellable. Solve the unsolvable.”

“And are you insinuating that I am lacking in this department?”

“Oh, no! I would never insinuate anything.”

Astarion heard something crash, the sound followed by a serious of muffled curses and something that that to a keen ear would seem like you fell over and were now struggling to extricate yourself from something or another. This level of clumsiness was so you that Astarion felt something akin to fondness.

Gale was about to turn his head when Astarion said, “I would not insinuate anything that I could state outright.”

That did it. Because Gale could take needling and teasing when it came to anything except his intellectual prowess.

“I’ll have you know that back at Blackstaff Academy I was often consulted on all matters of things! And often my council was the only one worth listening to! Now, tell me exactly what is troubling you. I am more than certain that I will solve whatever issue this is.”

Astarion saw you emerge with something hidden under your shirt. He didn't know why you bothered, it was more than obvious that it was a book of some sort. Though perhaps you were hoping to conceal the cover. Astarion's nostrils flared.

You were excited, embarrassed and a little aroused. An interesting combination to have to some light reading. 

“Astarion? Are you listening?”

Ah, the wizard was still talking. How he loved listening to the sound of his own voice! Honestly, some could really benefit from working on their people skills.

“You know, perhaps being in the presence of such intelligence was enough. I just thought of what to do. No advice needed.”

Gale blinked.

“I see. I’m glad that you are no longer troubled.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t go that far. We are all a little troubled around here. Anyway, must dash.”

And with that Astarion was gone in a flurry of silk and smiles that didn’t reach his eyes. Making his way out of camp, he pursued his target with predatory skill. It wasn’t like you were making it difficult to find you. A broken branch here, a piece of fabric snagged on a twig there. Astarion soon found himself on the riverbank, you not noticing his approach as you were deeply engrossed in your reading.     

"Hm.. Where is the part about.. Aha! Here we go. 'His throbbing member brushed against her skirts'. No, I must have skipped too far ahead."

Astarion bit his lip to keep himself from laughing. This is what you were after all this time? Stealing a dirty, scandalous novel? Surely he provided you with enough entertainment for you not to require that type of books? Who knew you were such a deviant underneath that prim and proper facade? How absolutely wonderful.

"Yes! Finally! 'She took him into her shaking hands and pressed a gentle kiss to his pulsing shaft, her eyes asking the question her lips could not form.'"

Your eyes shone with a victorious if somewhat maniacal glint, there was a leaf in your hair, teeth worrying your bottom lip as you read the next passage with feverish intensity. 

Perhaps it was time to make himself known. Astarion stepped on a tree branch, putting some force into it to make it snap. 

You squeaked and whipped your head around to look at him, eyes comically round and large, cheeks flushed and rosy. And it was at this moment that you lost your grip on the book, making it slip out of your fingers. You tried grabbing it but it was too late. Whatever escapades the Duke and the debutante got up to were lost to you, swallowed up hungrily by the river. 

"Well, I suppose now we will never know if he sheathed his sword to the hilt. Though perhaps it was more of a dagger?"

Astarion did not expect a pathetic little sob to be your reply.

"Darling?"

He crouched beside you, thumb wiping a stray tear that rolled down your cheek.

"It was supposed to be a surprise for you," you whispered, making a point not to look at him.

"Dearest, this is not the first novel of that sort that I've read and I am sure that it won't be the last."

"No- I- I wasn't talking about the book. I was trying to use it as a guide, of sorts."

"Well, I'm not sure if taking one too many bumps to your lovely head affected your memory, but we've already had sex. Twice, in fact."

"Yes,” you wiped your face with a swift, jerky movement, “but I wanted to do something. And I wanted to do it well."

Astarion chuckled as he realised what you were talking about. He had his suspicions when he had his wicked way with you, seeing the way you'd eye that particular part of his anatomy before quickly looking away. The elf lowered himself gracefully onto the ground and sat beside you, pulling you towards himself and letting your head rest on his shoulder.

"You've never-"

"Once. It wasn’t good. I mean I-I wasn’t very good," you admitted with a wince.

Astarion knew that he had to tread very, very carefully. It was glaringly obvious that you were inexperienced when it came to sex, even if you tried to act confident when you slept together. When he had stepped out from behind the tree the night when he bedded you for the first time, you walked towards him like a newborn doe, legs unsteady, hands shaking, a bright blush on your cheeks. You were excited and nervous in equal measures, and that made him both irritated and intruiged.

Therefore, Astarion chose not to tease you but took a deep breath, swallowed whatever witty comment was on his tongue, and placed a gentle, lingering kiss on your temple.

Bringing his lips to your ear, Astarion spoke in a low tone, "Darling, make of it what you will, but a student is only as good as their teacher."

Hearing your heartbeat speed up, Astarion smirked. You turned so you were looking straight at him.

Fingers clasping your chin, he pulled you up enough to brush cool lips against your own, tongue flicking out to wet soft flesh.

"Would you like me to teach you?”

“Yes.”

“Then be a good girl for me and follow my instructions.”

Having spotted a rock with a deep indent that would allow one to take a seat somewhat comfortably, Astarion rose and moved towards it, motioning you to follow.

“On your knees, my sweet,” he purred, undoing the laces of his trousers as he took his place. Looking up, Astarion’s eyes widened as he found that you were completely bare from the waist up, your exposed breasts level with his crotch.

"Feeling a little warm?" He cleared his throat.

"No. This is plan B."

"I need you to explain your thinking there."

"Well, if you don’t enjoy my mouth, these might come in handy."

After all, you've read enough fiction over the years to know how one can make use of this particular part of your anatomy.

"You mean-"

"Yes."

"I see."

Astarion felt himself grow harder still and willed his rebellious cock to cool it. He was supposed to be the one doing the seducing. Not the one who was most certainly a virgin mere weeks ago. Except suddenly you seemed to turn the tables on him and he, the suave and experienced rogue that bedded thousands, wanted you to touch him. The fact that he did not feel the usual wave of self-loathing and disgust was odd yet very welcome.

Your hands brushed against the skin of his thighs, so warm and gentle. So unlike the touch he was used to. Astarion looked into your eyes and felt himself relax at seeing the genuine excitement you were trying to be less obvious about.

It was sweet. You were sweet. You wouldn’t hurt him, or force him, of belittle him. And knowing with the utmost certainty that you'd stop if he asked you to made Astarion put his hand on top of yours. His cool hand gripping yours gently, Astarion delighted in the way you swallowed nervously when he slowly guided your hands up.

"Start gently. No teeth."

"Wasn’t going to use them."

"Don't try to take it all in at once."

"Don’t think I can anyway."

"And darling?" Astarion said, noticing the intense resolve on your face. "Please don't overthink this."

"Okay," you nodded.

And then you put your tongue on him and licked a long, wet trail, giving the tip an experimental suck. Astarion's brain promptly short-circuited. The second suck was a touch more insistent, Astarion making a strangled sound that was most definitely not a whine. Emboldened by his reactions, you took more of him in, moving your mouth up and down the shaft, trying to establish a pace.

Astarion's eyes slammed shut and he bit his bottom lip. He had forgotten how good this could feel. Hells, he could not for the (un)life of him remember the last time someone offered to pleasure him in such a way. His experiences of sex, at least from what he could remember, were all about giving at best. At worst? Well...

Astarion scowled, willing himself to stay in the present, focusing on the licks and sucks, and your hand stroking the base. The sensitive head pulsed from the attention. Astarion groaned when he felt your fingers wrap around the base, stroking back and forth along the section where your mouth couldn’t reach. His eyes rolled upwards, his hips moving involuntarily to meet your mouth.

And then his dick hit the back of your throat, making you gag. It was then that Astarion remembered that he was meant to be instructing and you, in your eagerness, had to be guided enough not to hurt yourself. Perhaps your attention had to be otherwise occupied.

"Darling," Astarion purred, pushing you back gently, making his cock slide out of your mouth with a wet sound. "There is something else I'd like you to do for me."

"Sure, I'd do anything to you."

"You mean for me?"

You shrugged, making him bark a surprised laugh. Oh, you were fun! Perhaps not always on purpose, but still. Much more fun than most, at least in his experience.

"I'd like you to take the rest of your clothes off and touch yourself."

At your dubious look, he leaned forward and brushed a strand of hair behind your ear.

"I'd enjoy seeing you pleasure yourself whilst you pleasure me."

"Um..."

"Good girl."

You obeyed, undoing the ties with shaking fingers and taking your clothes off, nervous yet giddy with excitement. Looking up, you saw Astarion watching you intently, a lazy half smile on his face.

He thought he was all that, did he? Well, you read enough naughty novels that you purchased from Sharess' - hood on, not making eye contact and trying to get out there as fast as possible - to have plenty of theoretical knowledge about how these things got done! And sure, perhaps you didn’t have lovers before Astarion. But you had years to explore your body well enough to know what got you going.

Astarion watched as you placed your hand on your breast and then trailed your fingers down, the descent slow and teasing. As a rule, Astarion didn’t enjoy seeing others pleasure themselves. He enjoyed feeling what little power he had over people, enjoyed how they would grovel and writhe just so he'd grant them a moment of bliss, enjoyed seeing them say and do whatever it was that he wanted because please, please, please.

Sex was a tool. Sex was a weapon. Sex was a way to get what he wanted. And he would damn well use all the tricks in his arsenal to have you where he wanted you.

Except a peculiar thing happened. He actually wanted you. Which was becoming more apparent by the second as your fingers pushed your underwear aside to bare yourself enough for Astarion to be getting quite a show.

He could see, smell and all but taste the way your body reacted to touch and to being watched. It made his fangs itch. And then you threw your head back, baring your neck ever so deliciously as you let out a wanton moan. His body jerked towards you, and it took all his willpower not to sink his teeth into inviting flesh.

No, he'd always ask before biting.

"Darling, may I?" Astarion said in a guttural voice he barely recognised.

Your 'yes' came out as an almost plosive sound that was half breathed and half forced out. He sighed appreciatively, so close to getting what he craved. You watched through half-lidded eyes as he put his hands on your shoulders and leaned in, nose trailing along your neck, tongue lapping at the twin marks that would most definitely become permanent. The thought had his hips thrusting forward, cock hard and leaking.

Not wasting another moment, Astarion sank his fangs into your neck, pulling you towards him. He could feel your approaching orgasm, taste your pleasure, making it his own.

"Astarion," you whispered, eyes fluttering shut, the hand not working you into a frensy rising to brush back soft curls. Your feather-light touch on his ears made him groan as he drank, a trail of blood escaping and trickling down between your bodies.

"Astarion I-" the rest was swallowed by his mouth as he crashed his lips against yours. You could taste your blood and then felt his fingers join yours before dipping into you and-oh.

Strong, and sure, and experienced, his fingers had you panting and gasping into his mouth. He moved and you tried to grind against him, but steady hands kept you in place. Your orgasm hit you hard, Astarion not relenting as you rode his fingers.

You two broke apart and Astarion grinned. Yes, judging by your glazed eyes and swollen lips, his plan was working as brilliantly as he hoped.

"Was this fun, my sweet?" He let your head fall onto his shoulder, watching your chest rise and fall as your breath escaped you in wheezing puffs.

"Very," you nodded and licked your lips, trying to steady yourself. "And now it's your turn."

Astarion blinked.

"Mine?"

"Yes. I mean, unless you didn’t like it."

Astarion found that for the first time in his life he was unsure what to say. Because he didn’t actually expect you to continue. Because he was absolutely certain that you just wanted to play with his cock for a while before chasing your own release.

"I did like it," he admitted, looking away in a manner that could be described as uncharacteristically shy, "but you don't have to-"

"I want to," you interrupted. "I wanted to for a long time. If you allow it, that is," you murmured into the elf’s ear, sending a delicious shudder through him.

Your earnest expression had Astarion considering it. That and the fact your parted, moist lips looked wickedly inviting. You wrapped your fingers around his cock, applying gentle pressure as you gave it a few slow teasing strokes.

"You up for it, lover?" You teased.

"Hah! That’s terrible. Don’t do puns, dear.”

“Because you’d much rather I do you?”

“You know that terrible jokes account for one in two murders?”

“Is that a real statistic?”

“It might as well be.”

Looking at you, Astarion felt a wave of something that another, better emotionally equipped being, would call fondness. And then he felt a wave of something that he recognised all too well. He closed his eyes and let himself enjoy the way your hand moved over his hardness. And then he felt warm heat of your mouth and your appreciative sigh as you were finally given free rein, getting to do whatever you wanted to him as Astarion submitted to your ministrations.  

He knew that he wouldn’t last long. Not with your blood coursing through him and the warmth from your mouth seeping into his flesh and electrifying his nerves. He tried not to arch his back, seeking more friction, more of you, just more of it all. Because- hells!

You chose that moment to palm his balls, rolling them teasingly as Astarion fought with himself not to thrust and roll his hips. His breath caught in his throat and he released a needy, half-chocked sound as you slowed to trace a lazy path up the spit-sleeked hardness, sending already sensitive nerves into overdrive.

“Darling, I won’t last long,” Astarion whimpered.

Your hum of appreciation just about sent him over the edge.

And then you went faster, as if getting greedier by the minute. Astarion’s words came out as whimpering pleas that did not make sense to his own ears. He gasped and whimpered as his pleasure built.

Whimpers turned into groans and those turned into silence as his mouth opened, deadly fangs flashing,  as your other hand ventured further to find that spot and pressed into it with each movement. His orgasm swelled and broke, Astarion not even having the chance to ask where you’d want him to cum. You tried to swallow, but were rather unprepared, almost chocking then pulling back enough to let what you couldn’t manage trail down your hand and his body.

Astarion took greedy gulps of air that he didn’t need, eyes still closed, feeling boneless and lazy, and not wanting to move. He could feel you shift and next you started wiping him clean with a soft cloth, movements slow and careful. This wasn’t the first time you cared for him in such a way, but he still didn’t expect you to want to do something like that, not really sure how to react. And so Astarion chose to just stay silent and enjoy it while it lasted. Because for one reason or another, he was certain that whatever this was would not last.

“Did- Did I do well?”

He chuckled, “Isn’t it obvious? Or perhaps you’d like me to sing praises and commend you on your skill like they would in those novels you like, hm?”

One ruby eye cracked open and Astarion gave you a slow, languid smile.

“If you were in my novel, you’d definitely be more gallant,” you huffed.

“Apologies. I’ll try better next time.”

“Next time? You mean I get to do it again?”

“Can’t imagine why you are the one excited about it, but yes. You get to do it again.”

Your victorious, brilliant smile had him looking away, the tips of his ears tinged pink. He felt conflicted about the attention, confused as to why you’d feel so obviously happy at him being satisfied.

Astarion did not like not being able to figure people out. Not being able to predict what one would do, not knowing what came next had the elf stiffening involuntarily.

Red eyes watched you intently as you put your smallclothes on. The vampire was eerily still as you stumbled about, suddenly bashful and trying to cover yourself up as quickly as possible as you threw furtive looks in his direction. Then he took a breath, as if suddenly remembering that some would deem it a necessity and willed his body to obey him. Lips curving, a smile plastered on his face, Astarion rose in a smooth, elegant movement, still completely bare and seemingly not bothered by being nude out in the open.

A finger under your chin, he turned your head and pecked your lips.

“Thank you, darling. I had a simply marvellous time. How good of you to treat me so.”

His words didn’t have the desired effect. Instead of melting into a pile of feminine goo, as one should have done when being in the proximity of a gorgeous creature, you frowned and nodded.

“Yes. I’m glad. But I think I have to go.”

“Really? Have to?”

“No. I want to go.”

Astarion let his hand drop and watched you retreat with surprising haste, confused about what had just happened. It felt as if he had crossed some unspoken line, but he was unsure when and where he did so. Astarion dressed quickly, with jerky movements, tugging his shirt on angrily. Anger came naturally. Anger was easier. He did not know who he was angry at – you or himself – but somehow it made him feel better. Taking a different path to the one you chose to make your retreat, Astarion ran. Hunting something down and tearing into its throat with his fangs. Watching it thrust about as he bled it dry. He needed to at least sate his hunger if he couldn’t settle his mind.

Evening came and went with neither you nor Astarion uttering a word to each other. The next day was much the same. You communicated through others, but never directly.

On day six, you approached Astarion. He was reading, casually reclining against a tree, the wind playing with his curls and making them dance so beautifully that you almost missed a step and had to quickly catch yourself. Falling forward and kissing the ground would definitely put you in a state not conducive to having any conversation at all.

Taking a deep breath, you decided to just go for it. There was very little you could do to make the situation worse.

"I'm sorry," you blurted out.

"Beg pardon?" Astarion looked up with a cold expression on his handsome face.

Not a good start, but you decided to soldier on.

"I want to apologise."

"Do you know what you are apologising for?" Astarion closed his book and set it aside without breaking eye contact.

"I'm not sure exactly. I don't know what I did that day by the river, to make you look at me with such disgust-"

Astarion made a noise at the back of his throat which could be interpreted in many ways, and you took it as confirmation of your worst fears.

"And I don't know how to fix it! And maybe a simple apology isn't enough, but I couldn’t come up with anything better."

You had thought of how this conversation could go at length, tossing and turning late into the night. You had hoped to sound less pathetic, less needy. But perhaps being honest was the best way to go about it.

"I envy your easy confidence, you know. I never had that. Not once in my life. And it's not about my looks. I just don’t feel like I have the guts to talk about my wants. And I've never felt that I even wanted to… until you. And I'm not asking you to understand or to accept it. But I can't bear you to look at me that way again, like you can't wait to get away from me. So, I want to apologise. But I need you to tell me what happened,” you swallowed nervously, “please."

There was an awkward pause, a moment where Astarion didn't know what to do, what to say when faced with such sincerity and raw emotion. How would he even begin to explain what happened when he had spent centuries trying to avoid thinking about it for his personal sanity?

"I can't,” he began carefully, brows furrowed, fingers twitching. “At least I'm not sure if I can. But,” he paused, word coming out breath-heavy, “that, whatever that was, had nothing to do with you."

"Oh.” You looked away, whatever courage you summoned earlier used up at this point. “I'm sorry for jumping to conclusions."

Astarion rose in one swift movement. You were a breath away from each other, and yet not touching.

"I meant what I said that day. I did enjoy it. Being with you feels... like something else. Something new."

Untarnished, unspoilt.

"But it did bring up some less than pleasant memories."

"I'm sorry."

"Will you stop apologising, infuriating woman?" Astarion demanded sharply.

"I'm so-"

Astarion knew only one effective way of silencing you, so he pressed his lips firmly against yours, one hand finding itself in your hair, the other on the swell of your hip. You felt a tingle dance up your spine when Astarion coaxed your lips to open, his tongue slipping in to tangle with yours. You moaned into the kiss, the tension and worries of the past six days melting away until you felt like you were floating.

Remembering that you did, in fact, need to breathe, Astarion broke the kiss.

"No more apologies," Astarion admonished you gently. "Especially when you've done nothing wrong."

You nodded silently and quiet enveloped you both, Astarion looking at you with warm intensity as you ran your fingers through his soft, silver curls.

"And now, my dear," Astarion decided to finally ask you the question that has been on his mind for the past six days, "I believe we are overdue for a discussion of a different type. Because I simply can't go on another moment without knowing where you learned of plan B."

And this was when you told Astarion about your most prized possession - the library in the basement of your home with enough tomes to sink a ship. Astarion had never been more eager to get back to the Gate.

He simply had to survive long enough to see this. And then have you read to him from each one. Preferably naked.

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[systlin]

ooooo summarize the one where tarl gets called bosk by a mean lady and it rewrites his brain chemistry

Oh, Telima! The Mean Domme! LMAO it's so funny.

So Tarl is boating down the Big Fuckass River to Port Kar where a dude he wants to meet up with lives. Port Kar is a notorious hive of scum and villainy but has far fewer Han Solos to shoot douchebags in the face unfortunately.

We get like, ten pages of Tarl talking about how longbows are good at killing people, because duh of course they are. However, for some fuckass reason Goreans usually consider it a low class and disgraceful weapon, and Tarl is considered weird for liking it. I will give Norm credit for Tarl, raised an Englishman, having a favorable view of the longbow even in a society that views them as dishonorable. Reluctantly. Anyway.

He's in the Vosk delta, which is a vast labyrinth of swamp mostly covered in a reed called Rence, which is used to make paper and also parts are edible. It's inhabited by Rence Growers, who are actually kinda cool?

They make like, floating boat towns, and hunt and fish the marshes, and they take in fled slaves sometimes and let them live as free women. Like. They kinda rock actually?

Instead of any actual plot for a bit, we get like twenty pages here of Norm outlining Rence, how it grows, how it's harvested, how things are made from it, ect ect. This completely derails the story for a jarring length of time, and it will not be the last time such a thing happens. Norm loves his annoying and dumb infodumps.

Anyway, Tarl is in their territory, and happens upon a free woman fishing in the marshes. He is, predictably, what he thinks is polite but from her POV is intrusive and annoying, and her village takes him captive.

THEN we get to the wild shit.

 

A Sorp is a turtle, btw. And legit this is like, one of the 3 reasonable dudes we get on Gor. Ho Hak you're a king love you bro.

Champion shit.

ANYWAY.

This, in the hands of a better writer, could have been the moment when Tarl realized that, oh, shit, yeah okay in this situation he will act just like the women he's enslaved before who complied rather than be beaten or killed. It could have been a watershed moment.

It will not be.

ANYWAY, Tarl is taken slave, and Telima absolutely rearranges his whole brain with ONE SINGLE NIGHT OF BEING A MEAN DOMME.

He will go by this name FOR THE ENTIRE NEXT THIRTY BOOKS LIKE GIRL JESUS CHRIST.

He's chasing this high for the entire rest of the series. He never gets over this. Like holy shit. Fuck.

Anyway so some Port Kar slavers raid the place and take some people captive, whatever, there's not actually any plot in this book it's just here to get Tarl topped and get him to Port Kar. He fights the knowledge that he can be enslaved like he's enslaved women this whole time, and again somehow manages to do no actual growth or introspection. It's really incredible.

The only thing of note here is that there is a dude named Clitus, which is inexpressibly funny to me. I bet no one can find him.

Tarl becomes a Captain of Port Kar by killing one of the other Captains. There's like, a war with Cos and Tyros, which are also naval powers, and we are supposed to root for Port Kar but honestly I do not give a single shit. It's mostly so that Norm can jerk himself off to pictures of Greek war galleys and Charlton Heston as Ben Hur, tbh.

How TF Tarl knows without trying how to captain a war galley, you ask? And is somehow so good at it that all the other captains are in awe? Well because he's a Speshul Boy, of course.

Of course Tarl wins the war and shit, it's pointless, I don't give a single shit about Port Kar vs Cos Vs Tyros and I want Tarl dead.

Anyway, Tarl hooks up with Samos, but not the way Tarl would really like. Stupid PK vs Kurii plot shit is droned on about for like fifty pages. It's all stupid, the end.

[ourdawnishotterthanourday]

Fool In Love — Jeon Wonwoo

✧ Love is a foolish thing ✧

Plot: Picture this… you find out exactly why your boyfriend has been so distant lately.

🎥 Starring: fem!reader x boyfriend!Jeon Wonwoo 🎥 Genre: big time angst 🎥 Word count: 1k 🎥 Warnings: swearing, cheating 🎥 Notes: more angst! sorry but not sorry hehe 🙃 🎥 Shout out: as always, thanks to my lemon drop @nothoughtsjustfic for helping and keeping me sane 💜

♡ REBLOGGING AND/OR FEEDBACK WOULD BE VERY MUCH APPRECIATED — DON'T BE A STRANGER PLS ♡

Set The Scene Masterlist —  Masterlist

“Do you still love me?”

You watched as your boyfriend tore his eyes away from his phone, his face scrunching up in confusion.

“What? Of course I do. Why would you even ask me that?”

“I don’t know. You’ve just been so distant lately, always too busy to spend time with me or too tired to be intimate.” You threw up your hands. “Hell, we haven’t gone on a date in what feels like forever. It just made me start to question everything.”

Wonwoo pushed up his glasses, putting his phone away before making his way over to where you were seated on the couch. 

“You have nothing to worry about, baby. I love you and I’m not going anywhere, okay?” he assured you, wrapping a comforting arm around your frame. 

You nodded hesitantly, still not entirely convinced by his words. While you deeply loved your boyfriend of five years, you couldn’t deny that there was a disconnect between the two of you. Whereas just a year ago Wonwoo would have jumped at the opportunity to spend every waking moment with you, he barely looked at you nowadays. 

No more daily compliments, no more occasional presents, and certainly no more spontaneous dates.

You didn’t quite know what had caused it but you missed what you once had. More importantly, you missed the old Wonwoo. 

“How about we go somewhere for dinner tonight, just you and me? Like old times?” Wonwoo proposed, offering you a smile as he squeezed your arm. 

“I’d love that.” You smiled, a spark of hope settling in your stomach at the thought of rekindling your relationship. 

“Got any places in mind?”

“You remember that Italian place I’ve been wanting to go to?” Your eyes lit up in excitement. 

Wonwoo instantly dropped his smile at your suggestion, his eyes growing wide.

“No, not that one.”

You frowned, not understanding his sudden shift. “Why? We both love Italian food and I’ve heard great things about this place.”

“I’ve heard the food and staff are shit so I’m not willing to risk it, baby. Let’s just pick one we both love, hmm?”

“Wonwoo.”

“Y/N.”

You sighed in defeat. “You’re really not going to give in, are you?”

“Correct. Choose any other place.” He kissed your cheek. 

“Fine, I’ll find us another restaurant. But you’re paying.”

—

You’d been so excited for your upcoming date, carefully planning out your outfit and makeup, making sure to pick some of Wonwoo’s favorites in the hopes of ending the night with some long-awaited intimacy.

But all your hopes came crashing down when the two of you had sat down at the fancy restaurant. 

Wonwoo was distracted throughout the entirety of the dinner, practically glued to his phone which seemed to go off every few minutes. Bad thoughts were floating through your mind as you watched him try to contain his smile every time he glanced at the device, not for a second believing his excuse of being so excited to spend quality time with the love of his life. But you also didn’t want to assume the worst because it was Wonwoo after all, the man who’d promised with his entire heart that he’d never ever hurt you like that. 

And you wanted to believe that, you really needed to believe that. 

But as the days passed, the distance between you never lessened, only seeming to become bigger and bigger until you felt like you could no longer be comfortable in your skin around your boyfriend. 

That’s why you eventually sought out one of your dearest friends on one of those nights where Wonwoo had to work over hours at the office. You were planning to share your thoughts about your relationship with her over dinner, needing to have someone to confirm that you were not actually going crazy. You knew she would understand, having had her fair share of relationship struggles herself.

“You’re telling me he didn’t want to go here? For real?” Nayoung asked in disbelief as the two of you entered the high-class Italian restaurant, several staff members approaching you to take your coats and name of the reservation. 

“Don’t get me started. Something about bad service and food,” you mumbled softly so the staff wouldn’t overhear. 

Nayoung snorted as you began to follow the hostess through the restaurant. “Now that is some bullshit if I ever heard some. I’ve heard nothing but praise. It has one Michelin star for god’s sake.”

“He wouldn’t budge. I wasn’t going to push it. Anyway, I’m glad to experience it with someone who can appreciate it.” You put a smile on your face as you both sat down at your assigned table. 

“Of course, you know I’m never one to turn down a fancy d— oh fuck no.” 

Nayoung didn’t finish her sentence, her eyes focused on something behind you. It couldn’t be anything good judging by the displeased expression on her face. 

“What are you looking at?”

“No, wait!” She tried to reach for you but you’d already turned around, your eyes falling on a couple, the man having just leaned in to kiss the woman on the lips. 

Wait.

“Y/N.”

You couldn’t even hear her since your heart was beating all the way in your ears, drowning out everything around you as you watched the man pull away with a lovestruck look on his face. 

It was the look he used to give you. 

As if sensing someone was looking at him, he slowly turned his head, freezing on the spot as his dark brown orbs connected with yours.

He obviously didn’t expect to be caught here of all places. 

You didn’t waste time making a beeline for the exit, ignoring the desperate pleas coming out of his mouth as you tried to keep it together for just a bit longer. 

Everything suddenly made sense. 

The distance, the phone, the restaurant. 

You should have trusted your gut.

But you chose to believe him like the fool in love you were. 

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[redhrs]

Sharp Edges, Part 3 - Sylus x Reader

synopsis— With 24 hours to steal his brooch, you're trapped in a battle of wit and temptation. But Sylus isn't just guarding the prize— he's breaking your resolve, one touch at a time. inspired by Midnight Stealth.

word count— 3.5k~

warnings— 18+, smut, angst, slow burn, nsfw, drunk sex, hate sex, enemies to lovers, rivalry, dom!sylus, making out, aphrodisiac wine, fem!reader, reader is confident, teasing, edging, dry humping, unprotected sex, thigh fucking, choking, sylus is needy asf, reader is horny and lowkey desperate, rough sex, porn with plot, voyeurism

minors don't interact!

🎧 The Zone - The Weeknd

Sylus pins you down, wrists above head, his weight pressing you into the mattress. There’s no space left between you—you feel everything. The frantic hammering of his heart, the heat of his body searing into yours, the hardness of his erection softly grinding against your clit.

"This is what you wanted, right? To see how far l'll go?", he pants, his swollen lips trailing down your jaw, your neck, your collarbone. Your wrists twist under his grip—you want to touch him so badly it aches.

“Sylus, please,” you whisper, the words spilling out like a plea. His fingers tighten around you as if he knows—knows how desperately you want to run your hands over him, to pull him closer, to feel him without restraint.

“Sylus, oh—Sylus,” he mocks your tone, his lips sucking at the sensitive skin of your collarbone. He’s getting on your nerves, and you’re really starting to hate him for it—but the burning anger tangles with the raw, insatiable desire boiling inside you, and it’s getting harder to tell one from the other.

“Fuck you,” you curse under your breath, your legs wrapping around his waist, desperate to feel more of him. He smirks, his voice low and taunting.

“I know you want to,” he mutters, one hand sneaking between your legs, his fingers teasing you through the fabric of your soaked panties. You whine, your back arching instinctively, but he doesn’t budge. Instead, he presses you down harder, his body heavy with intent.

“Say it. Tell me how badly you want it.” Sylus lips brush over yours, his voice rough with need.

“I need you to fuck me right now,” You bite on his lower lip, “To show me how good you can make me feel.”

The moment the words leave your lips, Sylus’s resolve shatters. He crashes his lips to yours, taking what you’ve begged for, as he pushes your underwear to the side, plunging his long digits into you. Your hands, free from his grip, instantly roam over him. One tangles in his soft hair, the other drags down his back, beneath his shirt, nails scraping against his skin. He grunts, a low chuckle escaping his lips.

“You’re so wet but I haven’t done anything yet,” You don’t even care anymore about the obscene moans and whimpers filling the room, “Are you sure you can take it? This is only the beginning, doll.” His fingers are moving at a faster pace, thrusting and curling inside you and all you can do is cry out his name in despair.

“Shut up and keep going” You bite on his Adam’s apple, sucking and teasing the sensitive skin of his neck. You never knew Sylus could be this vocal, and the sounds he’s making right now only fuel your hunger. You can’t wait to hear what other sweet, sinful noises you can draw from him.

“Such an impatient girl,” he adds a third finger and you arch, feeling the familiar heat building in your lower abdomen, your body responding to him with an intensity you didn’t know you were capable of.

“Sylus,” you breathe, gasping for air, the words spilling from you in a helpless whisper. “Don’t stop.”

“Look at you, fucking yourself on my fingers. I didn’t know you could be so bold.” He laughs.

“Wait until you see what I can do to you”, you cling to him as you feel your orgasm approaching.

Sylus moans as you seize his lips in a kiss so urgent and commanding, it leaves him dizzy. Your head tilts to deepen it, your tongue sliding against his, teeth biting his lip as he still fucks you with his fingers.

“What about you show me now?” Just when you’re about to come, Sylus removes his fingers, earning a cry of frustration from you.

“Why did you s—Mmffh” You couldn’t finish your sentence as he forcefully sinks his fingers in your mouth, making you taste yourself.

“I’d love to see what that pretty mouth of yours can do.”

Oh, you’ll show him. You’ll make him lose his sanity and leave him begging. “Is that so?” You push him hard enough for him to be completely on his back. “Strip.”

You watch him attentively, your eyes not missing the flex of his muscles as he moves to remove every piece of clothing. You’re dripping wet, the juices of your arousal slicking your thighs— you can’t believe he left you high like this.

You try not to gasp at the length and thickness of his member. You knew he was big when you felt it before, but now that you see it… It’s even bigger than what you imagined.

“Like what you see?” Sylus smirks, a proud smile on as he slowly strokes himself, his dark eyes never leaving yours. You bite your lip, your mouth watering at the view. You don’t answer, instead you slap his hand away and take his cock in your own. He lets out a soft whimper as your fingers wrap around him, your thumb teasing the tip where precum has already begun to bead. His lower abdomen flexes involuntarily at the sensation, a sharp intake of breath escaping him. You lean forward, ass perked up, not breaking eye contact.

Sylus props himself on his elbows, not wanting to miss a single second of the little show you’re putting on for him. “What’s the word?” You tease, his dick twitching as your breath mingle with the wetness of his tip.

“Fuck,” he moves his hips forward, urging you. You click your tongue.

“I fear that won’t work, Sylus. Use your words.” His face flushes, and you can tell he’s deciding whether to let go of that façade he wears so well—the one of the man always in control, knowing he has to drop it if he wants you.

Determined to make him break, you press wet kisses along his length, making sure he feels the way your tongue teasingly brushes over the vein beneath his skin. He shuts his eyes, one hand threading through his hair, tugging slightly in a vain attempt to keep his composure.

“Oh, God— Please, give it to me,” he groans, his voice trembling with desperation. You can almost feel the crack in his tone, a sound so satisfying it sends a thrill through you. Seeing him unravel, trembling under your touch, only makes you crave more.

“Good.” You smile against him, a mischievous glint in your eyes, before trailing slow, deliberate stripes with your tongue from the base of his cock to the tip, savoring the taste of him. Sylus is so sensitive you thought. You spit onto your hand, your fingers tight around his base as you begin to stroke him slowly. When your soft lips wrap over his tip, a broken whimper escapes him. His head falls back, lost in pure bliss, his breath shallow and uneven. One of his hands finds its way to the back of your head, holding you there as if he’s trying to ground himself in the overwhelming pleasure. You’re not sure if you’ll be able to take all of him, but you’re more than halfway there, bobbing your head, your cheeks hollowed as your tongue teases his most sensitive spots. One hand glides along the areas you can’t reach, while the other keeps your hair out of the way.

“You— Fuck, you feel too good” Sylus has completely drowned in lust, not even able to restrain himself. He tugs on your hair, his hips thrusting into your mouth as you take him deep in your throat, the sounds of your saliva mixing with his precum echoing in the room. Tears well in your eyes, and you find yourself clenching around nothing, your own moans sending waves of pleasure through him. “You’re so beautiful— your pretty mouth, taking me so well,” His thrusts become more erratic, messier, you can tell he’s close. You need to stop now if you want to leave him miserable like you were, but his grip on you is too tight and the way you gag around him is all it takes to send him over the edge.

“Oh, fuck I —” Sylus pulls out just in time as he spills over himself, thick white ropes coating his skin while he strokes himself through his climax. You sit there, completely stunned by the sight before you—Sylus pleasuring himself, eyes half-lidded, lips parted as he pants, looking at you like you’re the only one he wants in this world.

“Who would’ve thought the big boss from Onychinus would be such a needy mess in bed?” You finally speak, your voice slightly hoarse, as you lick the cum from his hand. He chuckles and pulls you into a kiss.

“Miss Hunter… I shall return the favor now. Let’s see who’s the most desperate between the two of us.” You don’t have a chance to respond before he pins you down again, his hands roaming with urgent need, pulling you closer as his lips trail down your neck, kissing and biting hungrily at every inch of your skin until he reaches your breasts. With effortless skill, he strips you of your dress, leaving you in nothing but your thong. Sylus pauses for a moment, taking in the sight of you, his gaze dark with appreciation.

“Stunning,” he murmurs, voice thick with desire. His mouth is everywhere, tongue teasing and nibbling at your nipple while his thumb circles the other, leaving you restless.

“That feels good,” you exhale sharply, urging him to keep going. You feel him smile against your skin as he continues his slow ascent, his hands reaching the hem of your panties. His hands grip your tights, forcing them wide open as he looks at you, his teasing expression returning.

“Looks like these are ruined,” he chuckles, tearing your underwear off. “I’ll get you new ones, don’t worry.”

Your back arches instinctively as his tongue slips between your folds, dragging up your slit in long, languid strokes. He kisses and sucks at your clit, the heat of his breath only heightening the sensation, sending jolts of pleasure through you with each movement. The sight of him between your thighs, devouring you completely, makes something snap inside you. Lost in the moment, you grind against his face, your legs instinctively closing around him.

“Sylus, right there,” you moan, your eyes nearly rolling back as he slides two fingers inside you.

“You’re so sweet,” He rasps, “Gosh, I can’t get enough of you.” You feel yourself edging closer to release as Sylus finds that sweet spot inside you, his tongue flicking expertly at your clit, sending waves of pleasure that make you dizzy with sensitivity. “Come for me, Angel.”

And you do—your orgasm hits you like a wave, your juices coating his lips, chin, and cheeks. He doesn’t stop, his fingers continuing to work you through your high as he licks up every drop of your arousal. Sylus was hungry, devouring you like a starved man. You could see the way he was working himself up too, grinding against the mattress in an attempt to relieve the throbbing ache of his need.

“Sylus,” you sit up, pulling him close by the neck, your lips just a breath away, “Take me. I want you.”

As soon as the words leave your lips, his mouth gently meets yours in a slow, deep kiss that feels full of unspoken words. His hands pull you closer, guiding you to straddle him as you both move together, bodies pressed against each other with an intensity that’s soft yet consuming. The kiss is tender, the rhythm slow, as if you’re savoring every second, completely immersed in the connection between you.

“I’ve been waiting so long, to be able to touch you like this.” Sylus whispers, his lips brushing softly against your cheek, your jaw, your neck. The atmosphere, once charged with control and dominance, has shifted into something unexpectedly intimate. A strange, familiar feeling stirs inside of you, one that you can’t quite place but know all too well, as if it’s something you’ve felt before and yet can’t fully understand. Your hand slips between your bodies, fingers wrapping around his length, giving it a few strokes. Your foreheads press together, eyes locked as Sylus lifts you, aligning himself with your entrance. Your breaths mingle, both of you panting in anticipation of the pleasure that is about to overtake you. After what feels like an eternity, he slowly sinks into you, his thickness stretching you in a way that has both of you moaning in unison.

“Mhm— so tight,” Sylus groans, throwing his head back, hoping he won’t reach the edge too soon. But with every inch of him disappearing into you, your soft walls gripping him just right, he knows he won’t last long.

“You feel so good,” you gasp, gripping onto him as you begin to ride him at a slow, deliberate pace, giving both of you time to adjust. Sylus meets you halfway, his hands gripping your hips to lift you up, his patience beginning to fade. He leans into a kiss, urgent and sloppy, his self-control slipping with every passing second. Your thrusts grow deeper, harder, fingers digging into each other’s skin, tongues clashing in a frenzy.

“You’re perfect,” Sylus groans between kisses, sinking deeper into you with each movement. “I want to ruin you,” he mutters, his arms wrapping tightly around your waist, his grip so strong you couldn’t escape him even if you tried.

“Ruin me,” you moan, your legs trembling as the frantic pace begins to take its toll. “Fuck me like you hate me— Sylus,” you struggle to form words, breath coming in ragged gasps.

“Do with me as you please.”

Sylus feels like he’s going insane. He pins you down, his body hovering over yours as he pulls you by your thighs, realigning himself. “Is that what you want, baby? Want me to be rough on you?” He wraps his hand around your throat, squeezing just enough to make you whimper.

“I want it,” you admit shamelessly, pulling him deeper into you. He chuckles at your boldness, the grip on your neck tightening until your words are nothing more than a breathless whisper. This time, he moves without hesitation, his other hand pressing against your lower abdomen. The lack of oxygen makes you dizzy, the sharpness of the pleasure and the ache blurring together until it feels like you’re seeing stars. As he thrusts into you—fast, almost desperate—the world around you fades away, leaving only the frantic rhythm of your bodies colliding. Each stroke is deeper, sharper, pulling you further into the abyss of need. “I want more,” you cry out, your voice dripping with desire, sounding far more erotic than you intended.

“Want more?” Sylus growls, a dark chuckle escaping him before he flips you onto your stomach. He presses you down against the mattress, his grip firm, then he’s back at pounding into you from behind like he’s completely lost himself. “How do you like it now?” Sylus growls, his palm coming down hard on your ass, the sharp sting making you cry out in pleasure. The impact is so intense you know you’ll be bruised by morning. “Are you satisfied? Answer me.” Another spank echoes through the room, leaving your skin burning.

“Yes—fuck,” you gasp, struggling to form a coherent sentence. The way he’s fucking you right now has you barely able to catch your breath. Sylus leans down, his chest pressing against your back as he continues his relentless pace.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t quite hear you,” he murmurs against your ear before sinking his teeth into your neck, leaving his mark. “Say it again for me, love.”

Your whole body trembles, your release creeping closer, tension coiling dangerously tight inside you. “Yes—yes, I’m so close—” Your words dissolve into a broken moan as you clench down around him, dragging a deep, sinful groan from Sylus, his own release chasing after yours.

You feel a shift in the rhythm—his thrusts growing messier, more desperate, his breath hot and uneven against your cheek. You wish you could see his face right now. As if reading your mind, Sylus flips you onto your back, pressing his body flush against yours. Your arms instinctively wrap around his neck, your legs locking around his waist, pulling him in deeper. Foreheads pressed together, you move in sync, chasing that intoxicating high. He’s beautiful, you think. His brows furrowed, eyes shut tight, lips parted as soft moans escape him—an expression of pure bliss you never thought you’d witness. Then it snaps. Pleasure crashes over you in relentless waves, so intense it borders on pain. All you can do is cry out his name, again and again, your body trembling beneath him. Sylus isn’t far behind—he comes just as hard, a deep, guttural moan escaping his lips before they find yours in a desperate, breathless kiss, the two of you clinging to each other as you ride out your high together.

You both remain like this in silence, panting, your chests rising and falling in a mismatched rhythm as you struggle to catch your breath. You’re certain Sylus can hear the frantic beating of your heart—just as you can hear his. A strange wave of sadness and nostalgia washes over you, unexplainable yet impossible to ignore. And before you can process it, you wrap your arms around him, holding him close, pressing his head into the crook of your neck. Your fingers comb gently through his hair, while your other hand traces absentminded patterns along his back, coming back to your senses in the warmth of his body.

“If this is how you hate,” he breaks the silence, his voice hushed and raspy, a stark contrast to the usual arrogance, “then hate me. With all your might.” He pulls you closer, holding you tighter as though the very idea of you slipping away terrifies him. Just as you’re about to speak, you feel his breath slow, his chest rising and falling in a deep, steady rhythm. He’s asleep. You linger for a few moments, watching the rise and fall of his body, before quietly slipping out of his arms and into the shower.

The hot water soothes your worn-out body, easing the tension as it cascades over your skin. You replay everything that has happened, the weight of it all settling deep within you. You’re not sure how you’ll face Sylus tomorrow, your heart stirring with both anxiety and a sense of vulnerability. You wash your body and hair slowly, lost in thought, until you suddenly feel the warmth of arms encircling you from behind. You jump, startled.

“Sylus?” you gasp, your heart racing. His grip is firm, unyielding, as he pulls you gently against his chest.

“Thought you left,” he whispers. You try to turn, but you’re unable to break free from his embrace. You pause, torn between words. The vulnerability in his touch stirs something deep inside you, making you question everything. “Please, stay,” he pleads, his eyes locking with yours, full of a raw, unspoken longing. You nod quietly, feeling a lump form in your throat, your own words escaping you.

You finish the shower together in silence, the quiet intimacy of the moment settling around you both. When you step out, Sylus hands you one of his shirts, his movements calm and steady. He slips into bed first, wearing silky pants that match the top you’re now in. You join him, the cool sheets brushing against your skin as you settle beside him, the room filled with an almost tangible awkwardness. The air between you is quiet, but the tension feels different now—an unspoken understanding, something neither of you has the words for. Sylus pulls you closer, his warmth comforting against your own. A few hours ago, you thought you hated him. But now… now you’re confused, lost in a swirl of emotions you can’t fully make sense of. You’re still searching for answers, knowing there’s something important you’re missing.

“Sylus, you—”

“Don’t worry, the brooch is under your pillow,” he interrupts, a playful hint of mockery in his voice. You let out a tired sigh, too exhausted to play his games any longer. He’s smart, you know he understands exactly what’s going through your mind. But tonight, you’re willing to let it go.

“You’ll get your answers eventually,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, his forehead gently resting against yours. “But for now, just sleep in my arms, without a care in the world.”

You close your eyes, letting the soothing rhythm of his voice and the warmth of his embrace lull you to sleep. His cologne wraps around you, familiar and comforting, pulling you deeper into the calm. You rest your head in the crook of his neck, and before you know it, you’re drifting into a peaceful dream—one where it’s just the two of you lying together in a field of flowers, wrapped in each other’s arms, surrounded by nothing but love and serenity.

note— So, this was the last part of Sharp Edges. It was my first time writing, and i’m honestly very glad and thankful that some people enjoyed it. I’ll continue doing my best, take care<3

do not copy, steal or translate my work! reblogs, likes and feedback highly appreciated!

@itsnotmelo @zozoparsnips @niiines999

[chdarling]

Frequently Asked Questions

Hi friends, I've decided to turn my ask box off for a while. This is not in response to any specific ask or any drama, I just can't keep up right now, and I continually feel guilty receiving asks I don't have the energy to answer. I've decided that guilt is not so great for my mental health right now, so I'm taking a wee break and figured I'd post some answers to some of the questions I receive the most.

Snippets and Spoilers can be found here.

***

When will TLE3 be released?

I don't have an exact date, but it probably won't be in 2025. I am giving myself the space and time to write TLE3 at my own pace and pleasure, and I plan to have a full draft finished before I start publishing on AO3. I promise when it's ready, you'll be the first to know.

***

Can I print TLE?

Please do not print TLE using any commercial printing service, as this is not legal (at least in the US, which is where I am). If you are printing and binding it yourself solely for personal use and in a manner that is 100% in compliance with copyright law – aka no one at any point in the process can make any money off of it – then I personally am fine with it (and very honored!). However, I cannot give approval for anything that infringes copyright law in any way. Thank you for understanding! I don't want to be sued!

***

Can I translate/create a podfic/create fanart for TLE?

I would be so unbelievably honored! I give a blanket approval for translations, podfics, and fanart, and I'm so, so touched that you would take the time to do this. I just ask that you ONLY post to AO3* and to please mark it as a related work so it's linked to the original. I may be slow to approve the AO3 email linking the fics, but I promise I will! Thank you!!

*except fanart, obviously. Do whatever you want with that. Although if you post it on tumblr, I would LOVE to see it. <3

***

Are you on any other social media sites?

No. I am ONLY on Tumblr, AO3, and the TLE discord. I don’t even use social media in my personal life, so don't try to find me! I'm not there!

***

Do you have fanfic recommendations?

I’m sorry, but I am not a good resource for this. I haven't actually read much fanfic as I spend most of my limited free time writing it. However, I always recommend checking out @jilyawards for a fantastic collection of the incredible talent in this fandom over the years.

***

Do you take requests for one shots/other fics?

No, sorry. I have my hands more than full with TLE.

***

Do you take suggestions for the plot of TLE?

No, sorry. I have the story pretty tightly plotted from beginning until the (very) end, and while I occasionally swerve down new creative alleys, I’m very committed to sticking to my original plan.

***

Is [super specific spoilery thing] going to happen in TLE?

You are of course welcome to ask, but I am almost certainly going to shout “SPOILERS!” and run away cackling.

***

You say this is a canon fic but [super specific thing that I don’t agree with] is included. What gives?

For the purposes of TLE, ‘canon’ means the original seven books. Everything else is dressing. I do include as canon a lot of the lore JKR provided in interviews while the books were being published (for example, James being a Chaser), however I tend to view all post-book authorial additions as mostly optional. I do use a fair amount of Pottermore in my story, but I do not keep up with new HP material, so it’s impossible to stay up to date with everything. For example, I tweaked the Animagus process somewhat to my liking as opposed to what is described in Pottermore. This is partly because I already had my version sketched out before that was published, and mostly because I did not like what was given on Pottermore.

I do not consider any of the films canon. If this alleged HBO show happens, I will not consider that canon. Video game? Not canon. I also simply do not know what the words ‘Cursed Child’ mean, as I am pretty sure this is from an alternate timeline in which I do not exist. Tra la la. :)

All of this to say: The seven books are the framework. However, I feel pretty strongly that within that framework there is room for many, many interpretations – particularly with regards to the Marauders era, about which we know so little. Just because my headcanon or characterization is different from yours (or vice versa!) doesn’t make it less canon. Similarly, just because something is not explicitly described in the seven books, doesn’t mean it is against canon for it to have happened in the background, unnoticed by Harry, or before the timeline of the seven books starts. See: Wolfstar.

***

Wait, there’s wolfstar in TLE?

Yes. There will be wolfstar in the series. I did tag it from day one, please stop sending me shocked and horrified messages! (lol) Because people have such strong feelings about this ship, I always feel the need to give my little disclaimer: There will be wolfstar. Personally, I love it and am excited to write it. However, if you are a fan of exclusively fluffy, happy wolfstar, you might be disappointed. If you are interested in exploring the fraught, occasionally toxic relationship between two angsty, repressed, and deeply traumatized young men during an escalating war…strap in, gird your loins, etc. We're gonna have some fun.

***

Why do you have two blogs?

Because I'm dumb. Because I didn’t know how tumblr worked when I started this whole nonsense and thought that a side blog sounded like a good idea…aaaaand then pretty much immediately regretted it. This was back before you could reply from a sideblog, so everything was a mess. I'm an archivist at heart, so I can't bring myself to delete @chdarling-tle but I almost exclusively use @chdarling these days. Feel free to only follow that one, unless you only want chapter updates and none of my silly reblogs, in which case @chdarling-tle is here for you. Otherwise it's pretty dead over there.

(ok, confession: this actually isn't a frequently asked question at all, but I shoved it in here anyway because the two blog thing annoys the shit out of me and I wanted to give some context for my disorganization. I meant well, once upon a time!!!)

***

Do you have a Patreon?

I’m amazed and flattered that I’ve been asked this enough to include it in an FAQ, but no, I do not. While I am so appreciative that people want to support this project, TLE is a work of fanfiction, created entirely out of and for love, and is in no way a commercial endeavor. I do not make a penny off of this project. I almost certainly lose pennies to this project. But that's okay! Because of the aforementioned love! And, once again, my deep and enduring desire to not be sued!

(One day I do hope to share some original writing, and if you feel so compelled, you may absolutely pay me for that, but I'm not quite there yet. 😉)

***

Ok but seriously when will TLE3 be released?

(sorry I couldn't resist)

***

Ok that's all I can think of right now. Thank you so much as always for your enthusiasm and support. My closed ask box is in no way a commentary on my appreciation for this community, I'm just very, very tired.

lots of love, CH

[niningtori]

clementine | preview

pairing: choi beomgyu x you

summary: after your explosive breakup and wordless, thorough disappearance from beomgyu's life, he's surprised to see that you've moved back to his town. when he happens to meet you again, beomgyu wants to apologize, maybe make amends for his unforgivable behavior, but he's devastated to find out that you've erased every memory of him. you don't want to remember him—or the love you once held onto so desperately—anymore. he knows that to be the case, so why is it so hard for him to feel the same way?

genre: angst, romance, potentially second chance, asshole!beomgyu to groveling! beomgyu (who saw this one coming...), inspired by eternal sunshine of the spotless mind tho i've never seen it and only know major plot points through cultural osmosis

warnings: angst, previous toxic relationship

word count: tbd

release date: really far in the future probably

notes: i received a request for this a while ago and i said i'd think about it then received an ask a couple of weeks ago saying another author was working on something based on the same movie. again, i've never seen the movie and i haven't read the author's work (or any new fanfiction rlly in the past few months cuz i haven't been in the headspace to enjoy it) so i will be making it up based off of the general concept of having memories of an ex erased. i said i'd wait to post it and i have every intention of doing so but i wrote this in a moment of inspiration and i've been posting previews so i thought i'd post this just as a teaser! it won't be out for a long time cuz i have so many wips and i don't want to be inconsiderate or invite weird, unsolicited comparisons. i just want to post previews bc i'm excited to get back into consistently writing after almost quitting 🥹

-

it’s jarring, to say the least, to see an estranged ex you used to love more than anything else in any unexpected context; but it's especially jarring for beomgyu as he watches you chatter away on your phone in the middle of the cafe he finds himself in. he catches your eye for just a second before you look away, and it's like he can't breathe. after your phone call, you smile as you type away on your screen. beomgyu gulps, because he knows that since you two made eye contact, it would be weird to just leave and pretend he didn't see you, though that's exactly what he wants to do. besides, no matter how much of a coward he is, he can't keep living with his unspoken feelings when he finally has the opportunity to express them, no matter how resolutely you might reject them. he hesitantly rises from his seat and walks over to you with unsure steps.

“hey,” he says unsteadily. you look up from your screen and give a forced smile, a far cry from the easy affection you used to give him. only him.

“uh, hey?” you reply. beomgyu worries he did the wrong thing by approaching you, especially because you seem confused that he said anything at all. you probably expected him to exit the cafe without a word, and the thought that you thought that he, who was once completely and utterly in love with you, would brush you off so easily brings a sharp pang to his chest.

“i… i know it’s been a while, but i… i want to, um, apologize for… everything.” he wants to lay down and die at his awkwardness, but he's wanted to say these words for so long, and no matter how much he’s compelled to swallow them down and safely tuck them away in the home they've carved out for themselves in his stomach, he knows this is the right thing to do. especially since you blocked him on everything before changing your number. especially since you moved away without a word after your disastrous breakup. especially since he hasn't seen you in so long, and he doesn't know if he'll ever see you again after this. your eyebrows furrow, and he braces himself for impact. but no amount of contrived mental fortitude could ever prepare him for your next words.

“... do i know you from somewhere?”

notes pt. 2: might delete this preview so be prepared for that possibility 🫰 peace and blessings :,) but please don't be mean or weird like actually

[dyingswanpavlova]

Lessons to be learned

Pairing: Nam-gyu × Reader

Warnings: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Restraints, Edging (More like Withdrawal of Release), Fingering, Unprotected Sex, Rough Sex, Degradation Kink, Implied Manipulation, Minors Do Not Interact!

Author's Note: I'm not sure what the hell this is. Probably porn with little plot. I fucking hate Nam-gyu and I hate that I like him.

Nam-gyu is testing you "in order to see if you really belong to him", but it's mostly him being cruel.

"You doin' okay over there, huh?"

Your eyes fluttered shut and you took a slow breath to keep yourself from...

Fuck, there wasn't much you could do anyway, right?

The motherfucker was right there, only a few steps away, scrolling dumbly on his phone. And you? You were there.

Legs spread to a nearly inhumane degree, your mouth dry by the pair of panties he'd forced inside. Every part of you was aching - in pain, in humiliation, in rage...but mostly in need. He had been doing this for hours now and you were slowly going insane.

You muffled out a response and only then heard him smirk.

"Right." He mubled in amusement. "Probably not."

A treacherous, pleading sound came over your lips before you could stop it. They felt chapped, like sandpaper and all you really wanted was to lick your lips.

Or, well, punch his gut.

"Okay, okay. We'll give it another try."

He set his phone down and lunged forward. His weight pressed you down into the mattress even more than the binds, the screech of the slat frame barely audible compared to your needy moan.

"Who you belong to?"

He wasn't gentle. And he sure as hell wasn't merciful.

No, he pressed two fingers against your core and pushed them inside almost immediately, but there was no resistance anyway - you were dripping.

"You." You muffled out desperately. "Mhpf...Belong to you-"

He pumped his fingers faster, harder, stretching you so cruelly, you were sure you wouldn't survive this night if it continued on like this.

"I didn't quite catch that." He whispered menacingly, before he sharply withdrew his hand.

You whined needily and tried to arch into his touch, but he was just out of reach - and he wasn't a man for half-assed restraints.

"Please-" Your chapped lips somehow formed.

He smirked. That fucking bastard.

"Please what? Please fuck me? Please lick my pussy? Please leave me here to rot all night? Use your words, you dumb little slut."

Your face flushed in embarrassment and anger, but you forgot about it, the second he pressed his hips down against your own. Instead, you moaned - as expected.

You couldn't tell how long you'd been in this position, how many times he brought you to the edge and left you there, begging, whining, all but sobbing. You had never felt this desperate in your entire life. The ache between your legs was slowly killing you.

It meant something to him, you knew that. He didn't trust easily, not anyone, not even you. He needed to test you, to push you, to drive you to madness and still have you. Still see you. And maybe then, maybe when you were good for him just a little longer, if you were truly ready to endure whatever he did to you...Maybe then he would finally realize that he was indeed lovable.

Loved.

You knew how messed up it was to even think like that, but what else could you do? You were in love and he was an idiot. A blind one, at that. Burnt one too many times.

"Please." You croaked out somehow. "Please...fuck...fuck me."

He bared his teeth in a predatory grin.

"You don't know what you're asking for, baby."

The sound of his pants being unzipped and the rustling of the fabric falling to his ankles was enough to make your heart stop beating. You needed to come so bad. But what you needed even more than that was him.

You didn't struggle when he pushed himself inside you. The low moan on his lips was enough to make your skin tingle, your insides squirm.

He was no man for gentleness. So, you didn't protest when he began to fuck into you like a beast in heat. You just moaned. Closed your eyes. And begged.

Oh, you'd feel him for the next few days. But you couldn't bring yourself to care. You needed him. You needed release.

You felt it approach faster than you thought. Being kept on edge for hours was a cruel endeavour and being so close to the damn-well-needed release was even worse.

Because, just seconds before you felt yourself tip over the edge with you arching your back and moaning against the material in your mouth, he stopped.

As expected.

You gasped and tried to move your hips but it was futile. He was still inside you, still so incredibly close to your sweet spot, but he refused to move. You closed your eyes in your frustration, but his firm grip on your jaw forced you to look up at him.

"That's right. Now that's a good girl if I've ever seen one." He smiled and it almost looked genuine.

He leaned down and pressed a soft, lingering kiss against your forehead.

Almost loving.

Almost.

"Don't worry, baby. We'll take it one day at a time."

It might have sounded reassuring from any other man, in any other situation.

Yet you couldn't help but feel the dread creep into your bones.

You understood it now.

This was only the beginning.

[blueraith]

"Vi and Cait should have broken up until Zaun was freed!"

Jesus fuck, once again, for the 1,485th time, Vi's concerns throughout the show have little to nothing to do with Zaun's political issues. Ekko. You are talking about Ekko. Who also evidently saw no need to wait until after the conflict to ally with Jinx. You know. The woman who's been killing off all his friends and attempted to blow him up at least once. And yet y'all never seem to bitch about how little in-universe Timebomb makes sense according to your own standards.

The standards Vi and Caitvi in general are held to compared to other characters are frankly ridiculous.

"Caitlyn hit Vi!"

Jayce fucking shot a hole in Viktor's chest.

Yet I don't go around to the other ship tags talking about stupid shit that ultimately does not fucking matter to the overall plot or enjoyment of the story presented.

No. It would not have made for a better show if Cait and Vi didn't make up until after some nebulous and far-fetched ideal about Zaun was reached.

(Y'all should be more pissed at Jinx for setting Zaun's full independence back by years at this rate for blowing up the council. Whoops, guess blind acts of violence while actively--and successfully mind you--negotiating your own sovereignty doesn't work, actually.)

Anyway, that shit would have been lame as fuck, perpetuates the idea that Vi can never just have what she fucking wants without constantly sacrificing herself for the sake of others, and turns the show's message into some Saturday morning cartoon, moralistic, and boring bullshit.

[mercurygray]

Advice for a Long Fic

Someone asked me recently for advice about writing a long fic, and I started making a list before realizing this was probably a post rather than a message.

I know I've said most of this before, and none of it is new advice. As with any advice, take what you think will serve you and leave what you think will not. Everyone's process is different.

-*-

Start a new folder in the place where you save your things. This is your new big project folder. You are going to save all the things here.

Decide whether you are going to write the whole thing and then post it, or post it as you go. There are benefits to both of these approaches. I am a post it as you go person, and I have friends who think this is the dumbest approach imaginable. It is whatever works for you and causes less anxiety.

I have a spreadsheet for all of my characters. While I didn't reference it too often while I was writing, the act of making the document helped solidify people in my mind a little. It was also nice to have in case you felt like doing an askbox game on a slow day.

Come up with a naming convention for the things in the big project folder. When your chapter is 'done' it should be switched to the naming convention. Mine was Darkening Sky - Working Chapter Title (for things that were still in progress) and Darkening Sky - 35 - Chapter Title for things that I'd finished. This helped me find things later after I'd been working for three years and would not have remembered what was in a document.

I personally like the model of doing a separate document for each chapter. This allows me to move these episodes around at will without the danger of possibly deleting a large chunk of text. This does not work for everyone! If you like one big document, use one big document.

The other reason I liked lots of little documents is that it gave me the opportunity to slot in other things that I didn't think were originally going to be chapters. When I first started working on TDS, I had a lot of flashes of ideas for different things throughout the whole story, and I wanted to get them down all at once. Some of those made it into the final story. Some did not. Some of them were written for one part of the story but got recycled into a different part. But they are all in the big document folder in case I needed them.

I also did something for TDS that I've never done for a story before - I wrote down all the different story beats and show beats on notecards and I laid them out on my floor underneath cards that had the show episodes on them. (You may have seen pictures of this.) By putting the plot points on notecards, rather than a list, I had maximum flexibility to move them throughout the story and could visualize over a larger space where the story was going. This also allowed the story and the characters to go places I did not think they would go.

Give yourself grace and time. It will not all happen overnight. It does not need to all happen overnight. The people who are expecting it to all happen overnight are not the people you need in your life.

Having said that, a schedule can be a wonderful and valuable thing. I was trying to post a chapter every two weeks during the pandemic, and then when work picked up again I scaled that back to once a month. The schedule was not for the readers. The schedule was for me. Having something to keep myself accountable was helpful to me to prevent burnout (a chapter a day, no thank you) but keep myself moving forward.

I am going to say something provocative here: There is Writing the Fic, and there is Doing Fandom On The Fic. Doing Fandom On The Fic is the "New chapter coming soon!!!" sorts of things. I would be very cautious about feeling like you need to do the second thing. Work on it first. When it is done, it will promote itself. (If you have already created the Doing Fandom thing as a part of your creative process - great! share that! But don't go out of your way to Make Something Just To Have Something.) There is a time and place for the second thing, and it fills a specific need, but there is a different and I would argue more effective way to do that, which is -

Find a Pit Crew. This is an endurance race, not a sprint, which means at some point you are going to look at what you have on the page and you're going to want someone to tell you that you are doing a good job. You're going to need someone to change your tires and change your oil and talk to you at ten o'clock at night when you want to rip everything up. This is not a big public server - this is one or two trusted friends who will listen to your bonkers AUs and what your characters ate for breakfast. Create a server for you and those two people and go have fun. If no one else shows up to this party, you and those two people are still having a great time, and that is what counts.

[kangaracha]

QUEENMAKER | CHAPTER 27

---

pairing chan x reader

genre ninth member au, angst, fluff, coming of age, social media, cancel culture, anxiety, depression, forbidden love,

summary To JYPE, the solution is simple; take the sole trainee that will not debut with your brand new girl group, and use her to replace the missing vocalist in your male group that insisted on starting as nine.

Unfortunately, to the fans and the members themselves, it isn't that simple.

status ongoing

taglist OPEN

previous | masterlist | next

---

Christmas flies past you in such a hurry that you feel like you hardly get to hold onto the joy of it at all - and it is joyful, as bright and as happy as the first one you can remember.

There's the morning in your apartment, sipping coffee and scrolling mindlessly on an internet where, for once, you don't see a single word that twists inside your gut when you read it. Then there's the preparation at work, and the livestream, full of lighthearted games and gift exchanges and you laughing at Felix as he drops the packets of chicken in his box all over the ground, disbelief still painted across his face. And then there's dinner, all together as a family, and the more personal gifts that you didn't give on camera, and the lively talk that carries all of you into the evening without anyone noticing.

You've had good days and bad days in Korea. You're relieved to get to the end of the day and realise that this is one of the better ones.

Your gifts are small and few, but meaningful, different groups of boys pooling together to give you something they truly thought you could use. Headphones, an expensive dress you'd eyed once on a shopping trip, hats to hide under in the airport. Small things you needed but hadn't gotten around to buying, things you'd been doing without until you had the money to invest in them. Your gifts to them had been much smaller, just like your budget; your biggest gift was their dinner and the evening you'd spent cooking it alone. The favourite thing you received was their faces after they'd eaten.

Still, it flies by too fast. You blink, and the day is over, and suddenly you're sitting in the corner of their couch paying minimal attention to the movie playing on the TV and waiting for the clock to finish ticking its way down to midnight. In the other corner, Jisung sits enraptured by the plot, soaking in every moment of the dramatic romance, the Christmas disaster and the miracle you already know is coming right at the end. Even with most of your attention on the conversation happening at the table behind you, you can tell what's about to happen; but you're not here to ruin his night. You're just...soaking it in. Enjoying it.

You're happy.

"What are you watching?" a voice asks behind you, hands leaning heavy on the back of the couch despite the flapping and shushing of Han's hands. 

You turn to answer Chan in his stead, finding him leaning there comfortably while he eyes the scene playing out on the TV. "Rom coms," you tell him in a voice that is only just hushed to an acceptable level. "They're supposed to fall in love at some point."

"They are in love," Jisung argues, his eyes leaving the screen only to glare at you. You wonder if he's aware his cheeks puff out with indignation when he does that, completely ruining the effect. "They're just too dumb to realise."

"They're going to get together at the Christmas Ball," you tell Chan, and ignore the way Jisung grumbles about spoilers as he turns back to the movie. "It's so cheesy."

"You didn't want to watch Love Island," Jisung cuts in before Chan can reply.

"I said we should watch Home Alone."

"I told you, I wanted some drama."

"Home Alone is drama."

"Go away then, if you don't want to watch," he huffs in mock exasperation, the laugh that huffs from the back of his throat when you stick out your tongue at him betraying him. 

When he turns back to the screen, Chan's hand taps at your shoulder. "The others are walking home now," he says, leaning down as if to mutter conspiracies between you. "Do you want to come with us?"

"With us?" you repeat, though you're already lifting yourself off the couch, stretching out tight muscles as you stand. "Where are you walking to? You're already home?"

"I'm just walking," he answers. "It's a nice night."

You glance at the heavily curtained window. "It's snowing."

"And?" he says. "Snow's nice. We never see snow."

"You should try winter in Melbourne," you snort, amused by the light dancing in his eyes. "So cold it might as well be snowing. Worse than snow, actually."

"You'll be fine walking in the snow then."

A yawn interrupts your put-upon sigh, and all of the effect it would have had. "I just have to grab a coat on the way down," you acquiesce, watching the other boys pulling their coats on by the door.

"Just borrow one of mine." Without waiting for an answer, Chan turns on his heel and disappears into the hallway. You trai after him slowly, meeting him on the way back out his bedroom door, coat in hand. "Try this," he says, and thrusts in at you.

You don't know where your apprehension comes from. Maybe the intimacy of borrowing clothes from someone - maybe just from coming face-to-face with the abject kindness that drives him to offer it to you without a moment's hesitation. It clogs up in your throat anyway, whatever it is, threatening to turn your face red. 

You have to force yourself to take the jacket, pulling it on with robotic movements. It hangs loose on your frame, the shoulders drooping sadly down your arms, but it is soft and warm and long enough to cover your hands, disguising your lack of gloves.

"This too," Chan says, and pulls a beanie straight down over your head, covering your eyes. You squawk at the sudden blinding, fighting your sleeves. By the time you have it straight on your head, your hair flat again beneath it, he is dressed too - and still laughing at you, his smile too wide to be innocent. You slap his arm hard enough to bruise. He doesn't even do you the mercy of rubbing it.

"Cute,' he says as you walk back down the hall.

Only the chance of public ridicule stops you from hitting him again. "I nearly fell over."

"Never," he insists. "You would have been fine anyway. The jacket goes all the way up to your ears."

"Give me one of Han's next time," you grumble, even as you pull the coat closer around you.

Chan's smile is beatific. "You think Hannie ever does laundry?"

"Disgusting," you say, with a face to match, and then you walk right into the group gathering by the door before he can expand on that thought anymore.

"What's disgusting?" Seungmin asks.

You wave him away. "Han Jisung," you answer. "It's a long story."

He accepts it at face value, nodding it away. "What are you doing here?" he asks instead, head inclined towards your clothes. 

"Walking you home, apparently." You pause, glancing at Chan. "I was bullied."

"Are you saying goodbye to the others, or are you coming back?" Chan asks sweetly, ignoring every word you said. 

"I'm coming back," you sigh. "I have to see the end of the movie."

"But not the middle?" Seungmin snorts.

"It's a bad movie," Chan advises, and then follows him out the door. You walk with them, cramming into the elevator once the rest of them are in. It's snug, with six of you, and too warm for the thick coats you're dressed in - but just as you start to sweat, you step outside into the frigid night and forget all about the elevator and its false summer, instead hudding down into your collar for warmth.

"Do you miss home yet?" Felix asks behind you, watching you grabbing at the warmth still left in your body.

You slow a little to let him catch up, eyes on the backs of the boys walking in front of you. "Just the summers," you answer wryly. "Winter sucks."

Felix laughs, pushing his beanie further down with one hand. "I like it," he admits. "Snow on Christmas? Come on."

"What's the point when it's too cold to go out anyway?" you throw back. "At least in the summer you can go out for Christmas. Go swimming or something."

Felix's mouth twists thoughtfully, his eyes getting that faraway look that says he's thinking of some other place than the wide street you're walking down. "Now I want to go to the beach," he sighs. "Mum said it was so hot in Sydney today, it would have been perfect."

"It rained for a little while in Melbourne," you say, and he laughs. "I think it was nice though. My grandparents flew over for the first time this year."

Felix glances at you in surprise. "You have family in Korea?"

"They live in Busan," you explain. "I don't really know them very well. They came for the In Life concert, didn't you see them?"

"No?" He puts on a show of helplessness, his hands spreading wide. "You didn't come and introduce them?"

"No?" you answer. "They took me out to dinner, and then we had filming or something on the day after, so they went home."

Felix blows out a sigh, shaking his head again. "You could have invited us to dinner. I want to meet your family."

You wave him away. "It's not a big deal," you insist. "Seriously, I hardly talk to them. I saw them for like, the third time ever last Christmas, and they told me to go back to Australia and get a medical degree instead of trying to be an idol."

"I hope Christmas with us was better than that."

"Nearly as good as going home," you say, and grin wildly at the offended look on his face, his mouth curving into a perfect 'O'. "My mum taught me how to cook lamb over the phone in the middle of her day, you know. What did you do for me today?"

"I didn't try to help you with the lamb," Felix throws back, quick as a whip. "And I told you how nice it was, so many times."

"True," you admit, and listened to the sound of his laugh rising in the still air. Your eyes turn upwards, to the shadow of his building towering over you. "Are you saying this was better than going home to Sydney then?"

Felix's mouth twists. "No," he says, very slowly, as you join the others at their door. You try to bite back your smug grin, a thousand retorts springing to mind that you've run out of time to say. Not that Felix looks like he's won anyway, his face wry as he turns to the others' conversation rather than trying to continue this one.

"Lixie," Seungmin says as you complete their circle, saving him from crushing defeat. "Minho wants to go to Jeju in summer."

"Do we have holiday time in summer?" Felix asks.

"We'll just run away," Minho answers, and offers nothing more than a stone-cold poker face to indicate if he is joking or not.

"Or," Seungmin tacks onto the end. "If we're being serious, we'll just ask to film something."

The look Minho gives him would be withering, if you didn't know that it was only an empty threat. "I'm being serious," he insists, and only cracks a smile when Seungmin rolls his eyes and Chan places a hand on his shoulder, barely holding in a laugh.

"I would love to go to Jeju," Felix says wistfully, and then turns to you. "What about Y/N?"

"She doesn't get a choice," Seungmin says. "Forced vacation."

"Why am I being forced?" you ask. "I can choose to go on vacation."

"Vacation to the company doesn't count," I.N puts in, and enough of them snigger that you don't bother arguing with them. 

"Fine, okay," you sigh, ducking your head and waving a hand. "Merry Christmas, goodnight now. Nice to see you."

"Merry Christmas, Y/N," Seungmin says smugly, his hand ruffling your beanie before heading inside. The others follow; Minho with a smile, I.N a small comment where they can't hear. Felix hugs you, and then throws his arm around Chan's shoulders for a moment and gets dragged into hugging him too before he can disappear, I.N closing the door behind him with one last wave.

Suddenly, the street seems very wide and quiet, the night stretching out around you with nothing to break it apart.

"Can I walk you home?" a voice asks by your side, and you turn to see Chan standing beside you still, one hand outstretched in offering.

"Weren't you always walking me home?" you answer; though you take his hand anyway, savouring the close of his fingers around yours even through the sleeve of your jacket. 

"I wouldn't want to assume anything," he says, and bites back a grin. Your hand thumps his shoulder, just hard enough to make a sound. "Don't hit me, it's Christmas. I'm being polite."

"Mhm." You nod, your hand falling back by your side. He squeezes the fingers of your other hand, only enough to make you aware of his grip. "You're always polite, of course. Never making fun of me."

"Never," he agrees readily. "I wouldn't do that to you."

"I bet you say that to all the girls."

He looks at you out of the corner of his eye, his mouth turning upwards. "What other girls?" he questions, as innocent as anything. In the half-light between street lamps, you think you can see his ears turning red, and you struggle to hold back a laugh.

"What about all the ones you're going to see tomorrow?" you say; and maybe the others were right, when your thoughts turn immediately from Christmas back to work, to the looming performance and the fans that oversee it.

"Oh, them?" Chan looks off high into the distance, as if mulling over the thought. "I can be mean to them. It's totally different. You can be mean to them too, if you want."

"They only just started being nice to me like, this morning," you tell him. "Now isn't the time to start playing games."

"Really?" His eyes light up, the playfulness of his smile vanishing. 

You nod along, unable to stop the wry smile that is plastered to your face. "In the livestream comments," you say. "I mean, there was still the whole awards boycott thing going around, but...I don't know. People were actually acting like I'm a part of the group? It's like, a Christmas miracle or something."

He falls silent for several seconds, his eyes silently studying your face. You can't quite meet the intensity of his gaze, your own eyes dropping to your entwined hands, swinging between you as you walk. He's thinking hard about something; time passes, your footsteps crunching in the snow and the buzz of car engines on a nearby street the only noise that permeates the air between you, and still he doesn't speak. 

"What are you looking at?" you ask when you can't bear it anymore, your gaze creeping up to meet the corner of his and then focusing on the road ahead of you instead.

"Nothing." With a jolt, he suddenly realises he is staring and glances away, searching for anything else to look at. "You seem happy, that's all."

It takes you a moment to answer, carefully considering the emotion that wells up in your gut. "I am, today," you answer. "It...I don't know. The performances this month have been good, the fans were happy today. It feels like something might change now."

"Good," he says, and smiles - small, but more soft and genuine than the amusement that had shone loudly from his face earlier. "I've been worried about you."

A scoff chokes itself in your throat. "I know," you manage to say, around the stone that lodges itself there. "I've been worried about you worrying about me."

His feet stutter in their tracks, his grip tugging on your hand as he saves his balance. "What are you worried about me for? Don't do that."

"Someone has to, don't they?" you say. "I see you spending all that time looking out for me, I feel like I should at least try to give it back."

His head ducks, shy. "You don't have to do that. I like taking care of people."

"Didn't I tell you to stop worrying about me like, six months ago?"

"Something like that. I didn't listen."

"You shouldn't break your promises like that."

Chan squeezes your hand hard, his knuckles bumping against your hip. "You promised to stop practising so much too, you know."

The accusation stirs a memory of a conversation, much clearer than the one you'd been trying to dredge up. It's funny; you remember, just that short time ago, talking about things like debut and the company - and now you can't fathom feeling those same nerves anymore. The fear of being dropped from the company, the pressure from fans, the expectations set upon the group and therefore you as proxy...all of those are fears you're still familiar with, but a fear of Chan himself? When he lends you his jacket and walks hand-in-hand down the street, so slowly that it might take you all night to get home if you continue like this?

Never. Not again, not not that you know him properly. There's no one you would trust more in the world than him.

"I think we should forget about those promises," you announce. "I like my job. And I like you caring about me too."

"Really?" he asks, and you think, from the way that he eyes you, that you need to give the other boys a piece of your mind. Too many jokes about old age, one too many acts of pushing him away. Maybe you need to give him a piece of your mind too - for letting himself believe, even for the moment of doubt that flickers over his face, that you wouldn't really mean it.

"Yes, really," you reply, and try to refrain from the tiraded of emotion that threatens to spill out afterwards, all in the wrong tone of voice. "It's been really hard lately, you know, with everything - I mean, it's fine, but still. You're always there. I like that. The others are there too, but - even in the middle of the night, you're always there. It's nice."

As if on cue, your building appears in front of you as you finish speaking, looking out from between its neighbours. "How are we ever going to go to bed on time if we both like talking in the middle of the night?" Chan asks, pulling you to a stop before you can head for the door. 

You find yourself shrugging, eager to linger. "Do we have to fix it?" you ask. "We're doing it right now, you know."

His mouth quirks. "Maybe tomorrow, then," he proposes. "Or we can just spend the rest of our lives only talking at midnight."

"I don't mind," you say with a shrug. "Midnight is a good time. Two AM is even better."

"I'll think about it."

He looks around, searching for something else to comment on, some way to keep the conversation going even when it feels like you have run out of things to talk about (except that you haven't, because you never could, because talking to him is so easy no matter what). In the corner of your eye, your door looms, calling you back to the warmth of his apartment and the quiet dark of your own - but his hand doesn't leave yours and his feet don't move, and even though you know it is stupid to be standing around like this in the snow, you can't bring yourself to let it go and bring on the end of night so suddenly. It's been such a nice day, and the walk home so warm, that you don't want to let it go, not until every second has been squeezed out of it.

There's still the movie, you remind yourself, thinking of Han sitting up there above your head watching, but your mouth doesn't say that. Instead, it asks, "Do you want to walk down to the corner store?"

You only realise later that Chan doesn't ever stop to ask why, or to complain about walking even further in the snow. In the moment, his smile consumes you, his feet automatically turning towards the store; and then again, you are immersed in your own world, stealing five more minutes from a night that cannot go on forever.

But for just this one night, you are happy. For just one night, you have something that is all yours.

Him. 

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@keepswingin

[jingyichickenwings]

This is less of a Deep Cut and more of a case of schadenfreude, but I love when various members of a creative team are messy in public about their high budget group project. Reality TV for nerds. It speaks to a profound lack of media training or fucks given. You guys realize that future employers can Google you, right? Unintentionally hilarious.

Linke and Yee were told in no uncertain terms that their season 1 storyboard was shit, so they hired Overton, who hired half a dozen actual writers, and they did basically a full overhaul. The script was objectively much better. But this was Linke's baby, and several years later you still see signs that he is Big Mad that he didn't get his way, and that he doesn't know or care about what actually became season 1 canon. I'm sorry that your Jewish stereotype villain didn't get to be a pedophile, I guess? Idk. Yes, yes, I am sure your version of Svengali is really innovative. Maybe someday, buddy.

Meanwhile they start writing season 2 in early 2020, while the season 1 air date isn't until November of 2021. So, they don't have public feedback on the script yet, just, yanno, actual writing professionals. Anyway, according to Overton, they needed to fire the non-management part of the writing team because of the pandemic?! Lmao babygirl you do your best and I respect commitment to the official PR excuse but nobody sensible believes this. Netflix writers average 110k/year, and you needed six or so from season 1. That is not a big part of the overall budget. Also, y'all could have saved money with Zoom meetings.

So the very thing that saved the season 1 script got line-itemed "because of the pandemic". That sounds like an extremely convenient excuse for Linke to be like, no, fuck you all, we are going back to Plan A, the rough draft of season 2 based on his shitty version of season 1. Honey. That ship has sailed. You already lost this argument.

So presumably some combination of Linke/Yee/Riot/Netflix was like, it's important that we have at least one actual grown adult writer on staff. So Overton gets to keep her job.

Now, I want to preface this by saying that season 2 would have been even worse without Overton. That being said, there is a reason they needed a deeper bench of writing staff. Overton and Linke over-connect with the characters Caitlyn and Jayce respectively, to a degree that they frequently forgot to evaluate how other characters would likely behave in certain situations. It led to contrivances, plot holes, etc. There is a lot I could add here but tbh go read any of the meta already out there.

In addition to the Mary Sue type behavior, Overton thought it would be Neat to make the writing more like Avengers, like multiverse time travel fuckery is a shiny beach pebble and not narrative napalm. What in the ADHD was she thinking? Even if they had the run time to world build enough for this, there was nothing in season 1 to even suggest this as an option. And let's be fucking honest, multiverse a lot of why Marvel is on a downward spiral. If Viktor can go to Build-A-Bear Workshop and 3-D print a million Jayces, why should I give a shit about his kill count? He can just be kind, rewind, and try again. Actions are decoupled from consequences.

Anyway, moving back to the topic at hand of the Arcane team. Apparently, Overton, Linke and Yee only half-wrote season 2?! Linke said something about how they "extensively collaborated with Fortiche on the story"? Which, it's not inherently a bad idea to get creative feedback from your art team, but ummm, maybe the writers and Fortiche should have worked to a point of agreement on basic story beats. Based on a lot of what Fortiche has said, the art for season 2 passive aggressively advances what they wanted the writing to be against Linke's wishes. They literally have just been straight up disagreeing with Linke and getting paid for it. Which, to be fair, I respect the sheer pettiness! Linke can't write his own damn show but wants to slow down the very expensive art team? When the actual writers that got fired "because of the pandemic" would have caught a lot of the season 2 issues?

So post airing of season 2, Overton is all about that girlboss copaganda, Linke is having multiple public meltdowns and getting fired by Riot(?), and multiple voice actors and artists at Fortiche are being like "yeah, we actually wanted something else so there are now multiple competing narratives for season 2". Which is hilarious. The way in which the show is messy is the same way in which the creators are messy. These bitches are a cautionary tale about hubris and the need to engage in team-building.

[iscdisc]

The Farmhouse Arc should've been the most significant character growth period for 2012 April as a character, and I kind of wanted to talk about that- Lmao

I apologize for not for recalling the user who's post I saw talking about this (I'll definitely @ them if I end up finding them / their post again-), but I recently came across somebody mentioning how they felt 2012 April should have experienced some self-loathing during The Farmhouse Arc given the whole Irma / Kraang Invasion situation-

I completely agree ! But that made me want to expand on that in my own way, because this is something that I genuinely enjoy getting into since there was so much potential (As most things in 2012 have-) that just didn't used,,

Since we've already established time and time again with this series that the writing is not as good as it could be, it "makes sense" that April barely felt any guilt outside of the initial S2 finale and the mistakes that she made don't even get brought up during the aftermath that is the Farmhouse Arc (If we're really being honest, they don't even really get brought up during the initial Season 2 finale- 💀). But if the show had better writing, April should have and would have felt more guilt / had that guilt be very apparent throughout the Farmhouse Arc in how she moves and talks to the Turtles + Casey during their stay there. Not to say that everything was entirely her fault, such as Irma being Kraang Subprime in disguise (She didn't ask for that nor did she cause that to happen-), but it should be acknowledged that their lack of an upper hand feels attributed to her actions the most in this particular Season finale.

I mean, honestly what was she even doing-?? I'm not trying to necessarily give a pass to Casey here, since I know that he was also goofing off / not taking things as seriously as he should have been even though he technically was helping Raph search for Karai- But at least he was with Raph, you know what I mean? Raph and Casey (technically) were searching the city for Karai as it means of protecting her and keeping her safe from the imminent Kraang Invasion (They were also looking for her post her mutation in general, but it was especially dire now-), Leo and Donnie (and Mikey technically-) are in the Lair deliberating on courses of action (Both on options to confront the incoming Kraang Invasion but also means of a safety net, something that Leo in particular was stressing they have outside of the city-). What is April doing during this time? What was her big contribution to this incoming threat? Hanging out with Irma. Like what- Lmao

I understand that like a lot of things that this show has 2012 April do or say, it's just used as a plot device or something to push the narrative that they're going for (Which is incredibly irritating, since it basically sacrifices any good character writing for her so that they can just move the plot along- Regardless of whether or not it makes sense for her as a character to do or not do- But I digress.), and this is just another example of that. But I would be lying if I said this particular aspect of the S2 finale has never made a lick of sense to me, even to this day. A second attempt at a Kraang Invasion is literally on the horizon, and instead of being with her team + actively helping / contributing in some way to this inevitable issue, April's hanging out with Irma-? The writers don't even give any context prior either, like the two of them coming from the movie theater or April's home or something. They provide no explanation as to why April's even spending her time with Irma in this moment.

Which, just like most things in this show, I'm not even saying that that had to have been a poor choice? This is why context is important- If they had shown April clearly stewing over the incoming Kraang Invasion as she's on her way to meet up with everybody else to discuss their options and Irma "just so happened" to essentially ambush April with her presence, thus making April feel obligated to entertain her for the time being? That would have made a lot more sense. It also would have been a great way to foreshadow the events to come in relation to Irma, since there would have been a clear atmosphere change and some unspoken reason as to why Irma wants her attention so badly right now- It also wouldn't have taken up a lot of runtime in my opinion, so I don't understand why they didn't do something like that? 💀

But to not derail from the initial point, (Given the poor writing, I know-) April basically brings a bunch of chaos to the Turtles (and Casey) and quite literally does the bare minimum about it. When she (unintentionally) reveals their home to the enemy, what does she do throughout that entire ambush? Hide. She doesn't even make any attempts to fight off the Kraang that are flooding into the Liar and essentially destroying their home.

What did she do after they escaped the sewers? Take them to her apartment, which initially was just meant to help Donnie get patched up before revisiting the chaos she (unintentionally) created, but instead April ends up staying in her apartment with her cowardly Father-?? For way longer than she should have. I understand that April does not control Donnie and it's not / shouldn't be her role to influence his decisions, but it was also upsetting to know that she was basically the reason Donnie was so inactive (Since he refused to "leave her side" or whatever-) and this in turn caused Mikey to also be inactive because (Rightfully so??) he's not going to go out there by himself- So April (more or less) was the reason why the three of them did nothing but wait around in her apartment until Raph and Casey arrived. She technically "did something" during the fight (more or less) with Kraang Prime in the Turtle Mech, but that only partially counts to me because that was more of a group effort (Since it's ideal for four people to be working the robot and she pulled like one lever or something like that- Lmao).

And of course, there was that psychic freakout that she had at the end of the S2 finale, but those never count to me because that's not something that she's consciously making an effort to do- If that makes sense? If April wasn't this special Human + Kraang Mutant Hybrid, she would just be freaking out like a regular person, and that would have done nothing for them- You know what I mean? (I really loathe these psychic freakouts that the writers have April do for this very reason-)

If you really pick apart April's role in the S2 finale, she mostly escalates the situation and does very very little to alleviate any of it or contribute positively in some way. Again, I acknowledge this is a poor writing decision and most likely influenced by their want to move the plot along and make this season finale "really dramatic"- But that doesn't mean that I'm not allowed to acknowledge it for what it is. Lmao

That being said though, I can now circle back to the topic at hand, which is that the Farmhouse Arc should've been a huge growth period or her as a character. ESPECIALLY in regards to her relationships with the Brothers and Casey.

The S2 finale should have been a situation that caused the group to view April differently. Not in the sense that they view her as an enemy or something of that nature, more that they're finally more openly acknowledging that she makes a lot of mistakes. Mistakes that they (More so the Brothers than Casey-) usually suffer the brunt of the consequences of. This is something that I feel is very apparent with her character (S2 the most-), and while that isn't a bad thing since a lot of characters in 2012 make mistakes, it's very obvious that the main group responds incredibly differently to her mistakes than any other character's mistakes. She's never forced to dwell on her wrongdoings or missteps, nor does the group ever harp on them or make her feel guilty for a prolonged duration of time like they do with other characters. We see this constantly throughout the series. The Brothers and Casey are always quick with their reassurance and understanding, always quick to tell her it isn't a big deal or that they got it handled, etc.

While it's not necessarily a bad thing to support her or make efforts to prevent her from developing a lack of self confidence, there's a fine line between giving support and coddling a person. Oftentimes, I feel like this teeters into the coddling side of things rather than genuinely supporting her. They essentially treat her like a child (so to speak), in the sense that they'd rather her believe that she "didn't do anything wrong" and that *everything's okay" instead of being honest when she makes mistakes or acts in ways that genuinely upsets them or off puts them.

THIS?? The S2 finale / Kraang Invasion?? This 1000% should have been the boiling point, and Raph in particular should've been the one to tip over the metaphorical pot. A theory that I have for the S2 finale going into the Farmhouse Arc that I believe holds up very well is Raph and Casey not being privy to the fact that April caused a lot of the chaos that they experienced during that finale. Of course, once they initially left New York City, their priorities were more focused on getting to safety (the O'Neil Farmhouse) and helping Leo in some way / shape / or / form giving his uncertain condition health wise. So it makes sense that this wasn't a topic of conversation immediately. However, it would not surprise me in the slightest if Donnie had made the decision to not tell Raph and Casey about what had transpired in the Lair that day (Or at the very least not the whole story, which would include April's involvement-). Convincing Mikey (And somewhat April-) to do the same. Because why wouldn't he? April's always been his top priority, and if not telling Raph and Casey the truth means protecting her, then he most likely will do that. Because I'm sure he knows Raph would be pissed beyond belief.

AND AS HE SHOULD BE- Hello?? If Raph found out that the reason why the Kraang Invasion began sooner than they planned thus causing them to be incredibly unprepared / their Lair got discovered and destroyed by said Kraang Invasion / Leo got separated from the group (And took on Shredder alone, but I fully acknowledge that that wasn't April's fault, I feel like that was a really stupid call on Leo's part during this finale-) / Splinter got separated from the group and this causing a domino effect that led him to confronting Shredder and being thrown further into the sewers and Raph ( + Donnie / Mikey / and April-) witnessing that horrific event was because of APRIL -?? Regardless of whether or not it was an accident, I think he would have a right to be upset with her. Because like I said before, she's had a lot of accidents that they've had to clean up before.

So just picturing Raph chewing her out at The Farmhouse and finally addressing how upset he's been with her in the past but bit his tongue so many times because she's supposed to be their friend?? That's "Chef's Kiss" tier conflict in my opinion. I genuinely feel like something of this nature was meant to happen and should have happened. A mistake of this caliber should have affected her relationships with them. Of course, Raph is the only one that I truly see being so unapologetically upset with April over this. Casey and Mikey would probably fall under some kind of murky mix of emotions, where they understand why they should be upset with her and to a degree they are, but they don't necessarily want to isolate her or cut her out of their lives- You know? I feel like their body language around her would be the biggest tell though, especially Mikey's, which I think would hurt April a lot (But it's not like she's really in a position to argue against it,,). I also think it would hurt Mikey a lot too, since being in this kind of position would make him incredibly uncomfortable for sure and I'd imagine he wouldn't like the way he's instinctively reacting to her presence nowadays,,

Donnie, of course, would be the only one "acting the same" towards April / around April. But deep down I think even he knows that something has changed between them, something that he would be in denial about for a majority of their stay there. I think this would have been a really great way to progress their relationship though- Both in the context of pushing for their romantic relationship (Which again, I personally am not a huge fan of 2012 Apritello, but I also don't want to exclude these things-) but also dismantling it entirely. On one hand, I think this would have been a really unique way to finally get Donnie to view April as an individual rather than simply the "object of his affections". Fully allowing those rose-colored glasses to be put aside for a second, you know? This should have been an event that tested his (so called) love for April in my eyes. Because if he doesn't love her and value her as a person, especially when she's at her lowest or has made some of her biggest mistakes (Ones that directly affect him-), then can he really say he loved her at all? I also think this should have been a great arc for Donnie as far as not making excuses for April anymore, since this is a bad habit he's (seemingly) nurtured. Learning that it's okay to be critical of her and these criticisms not drastically influencing their relationship or his affections towards her. But I can also see this skewing the complete opposite direction, and this finally being the event that ends the crush saga all together-

I personally felt like this was a very realistic possibility, since Donnie's crush on April is very surface level (He only "fell" for April because she was the first girl he witnessed upon leaving his home for the first time + he thought she was very pretty. He never makes any genuine attempts to get to know her as a person, and this feels very apparent given his behaviors and actions towards her. When he made his chart to "successfully get April to hang out with him" back in S1, everything that he listed had everything to do with himself and nothing to do with her or her interests. He didn't even try to guess or do any kind of process of elimination for her interests through his conversations / interactions with her. Also during S1, Donnie makes the bold assumption that April will like him simply because her Father is also a scientist- Which has absolutely nothing to do with April as an individual and there's no real correlation as to why she would "like him more" simply because he's similar to her Father / Father's profession? During this exact Season, when we see him gift her the music box that he made for her in, "A Foot Too Big" / S3 EP 2 /, April clearly looks uncomfortable for very obvious reasons but another thing that comes to mind is whether or not she even likes music boxes-?? There's no real explanation as to why he thought this would be a good gift for her- 💀). So to me, it makes sense that having his Rose colored glasses shattered / having a situation that practically forces Donnie to truly see her as an individual who's flawed and makes mistakes like this one would cause his crush on her to essentially evaporate instantly. Because what was his crush / infatuation founded on in the first place-? You know what I mean? I can also see his crush dissipating because of April and how she's handling this entire situation. I can see her handling it poorly in two different senses, the first being that she becomes very overly sensitive and defensive (Since Raph blowing up on her would be a massive hit to her pride, and as we've seen throughout the series, she's built up a pretty big ego just as much as the other characters have-) or she becomes very detached and blunt. Something that would cause her to become more openly honest with Donnie about how she views him and their relationship, that being that they just don't really have one- Finally being able to speak on how his advances make her feel and how they aren't necessarily wanted a majority of the time. :/

But now that I've established how I feel the other main characters should've responded towards April post the S2 finale / entering the S3 Farmhouse Arc (Minus Leo whose in a coma-), it's finally time to talk about how I feel April should have carried herself during this arc. Which would be BUILDING / REBUILDING HER RELATIONSHIPS WITH THE OTHER MEMBERS OF THIS TEAM (Minus Leo, but also technically him to just after he wakes up from his coma-). One of my biggest gripes with 2012 April in relation to the group as a whole is her lack of proper dynamic with most of her teammates. Casey is honestly the only exception to this, since we do see her get more significant bonding moments with Casey / she does get a lot of one on one screentime with him on particular- But even that could use some work too. April doesn't feel like an actual friend to any of them, and that's always been something that bothers me considering how highly they regard her as a person and how much they trust her / how much they put their faith in her. It would make sense to properly establish where that trust and praise even stems from, you know what I mean? But since the writers suck ass, you can essentially just chalk this up to her being the titular girl character and therefore she "deserves this treatment" canonically. I hate that reasoning and think it's really dumb. :) Lmao

I'm not saying the entire Farmhouse Arc needed to be so April centric (Since 2012 already feels like the Leonardo and April O'Neil show a majority of the time- 💀), but I don't think it could have hurt to have a majority of those episodes have significant moments between April and a particular Brother / Casey. With Mikey and April, I think it would have been really great for April to validate his feelings and reinforce the fact that it's okay for him to be upset with people. That doesn't mean that he has to hate them forever or hold grudges like a lot of people in his life do (I can also imagine that's the biggest reason why he's so uncomfortable with the possibility that he's holding a grudge against April, since his entire life revolves around this stupid grudge between his Father and his Uncle- Because Shredder basically is their uncle and I hate that that isn't acknowledged more?? That's like top tier family drama angst right there- Lmao). But it's also not healthy for him to essentially pretend as though he doesn't feel emotions like anger and frustration and disappointment. I think it would have been really cool for April to validate his thoughts and opinions, with this being used to build a better relationship between them and result in Mikey learning to trust April once again (Not that he necessarily lost his trust in her but it felt complicated for a while-). We can also get more screentime of April loosening up and doing fun / silly things, since I'm sure Mikey would bring out that side of her ! I also think Mikey should have been the one to help her with her psychic abilities instead of Donnie, I don't know if that's a hot take but- LMAO

Like I said earlier, I don't think April didn't have a relationship with Casey but I think this situation would help strengthen it for sure. To be honest though, I don't see April necessarily needing to make a lot of amends with Casey (Aside from his Father and younger Sister getting abducted as well, and maybe this could be a good way for Casey to be able to actually talk about his family with someone onscreen-). But I do like the idea of April going to Casey a lot during the situation for advice- To have an outside looking in perspective, you know what I mean? Especially with Raph and how to fix that mess,, But this would be a great way to show how much April values Casey as a friend and respects his opinion / appreciates the fact that he's always been a shoulder for her to cry on or vent to. I also want Casey to reinforce this idea that she doesn't need to be this "perfect person". This whole character development period for her should be about that in general, but I feel like Casey / her interactions with Casey should highlight this theme the most. I think April should be able to express how difficult it's been to come to terms with the fact that she's not where she wants to be or who she thought she was, with Casey throwing out the idea that maybe that was never who she was meant to be. That it's never too late to reinvent yourself or be a different person, one that you better reflects who you are. I basically just want Casey to reinforce her individualism the most !

I'm biased, so I prefer the situation dissipating Donnie's crush on April, and for that to build a new foundation for a relationship. A platonic relationship. Donnie never truly interacted with April as a friend, always interacting with her as his crush or infatuation, you know what I mean? He read into every interaction they had, everything he did felt as though it had some romantic strings attached or implications. He needs to let that go, for sure. I think they could have had a really cool dynamic if this had happened. The writers also could have better explored April's intelligent side, the one that they constantly like to associate with her character but I feel doesn't always hold up (Not only because a lot of her "character traits" feel reliant on the plot of an episode, making them incredibly inconsistent, but I've always compared April's intelligence level to Leo's rather than Donnie's. You know what I mean?). If April actually has an interest in S.T.E.M. the way the writers like to imply that she does, then this would have been a really good thing for her too ! I honestly don't have much to say aside from this though, because I don't necessarily see a lot of friendship scenarios for April and Donnie-? I know that's kind of sad, but I've personally never envisioned them being super close-? 😭

Raph is my favorite aspect of this entire hypothetical concept though. Not only does it include the satisfaction (For me, yes-) of a character rightfully telling April off for once and April actually having to face the repercussions of something that she's done for an indefinite amount of time, but this also simultaneously feeds into my take that April and Raph should have been a lot closer than they actually were- To talk about this a little better, I'm including some old WIPs of a comic I made exploring this idea (I guess technically I'm still making it-? I haven't worked on it in a while,, 😔) !

I'll do my best to not infodump about the entire story that I envisioned for this comic (Cause it's a lot and this post is already lengthy enough- Lmao), but to provide some context for these specific panels: After Raph explodes on April after finding out what actually transpired during the S2 finale / takes the time to throw in the fact that she's pretty incompetent a majority of the time and it's upsetting the constantly have to clean up after her, April (somewhat understandably) gets in her feelings and it's pretty upset about the situation overall. She ends up running into a conflict with some people by herself in the woods while taking a walk to get some fresh air (It was over a missing mutagen canister and I kind of envisioned these people being similar to "The Finger" from the Bigfoot episode- Like, just weirdos- Lmao), and as you can tell from the comic she pretty much gets her ass handed to her. This is when Raph's words really started to set in for her and she felt honestly disappointed with herself. But instead of kicking her while she's down or fanning the flames, Raph opens up to her instead-

With that little bit of context out of the way, I really love this idea that seeing April like this would result in Raph wanting to open up to her. Why? Because he sees himself in her. Especially right now. Seeing her so frustrated with herself, April wanting to do more than she's physically capable of doing as she is now, feeling weak and helpless ,, He's been there. Many many times. So he starts to empathize with her and his anger simmers a bit.

He opens up about his role in this team, and how a majority of the time he only feels good for punching and hitting people. Like that's all he's capable of. He talks about how he feels so insignificant when the solution isn't hitting people, or even if there is someone to hit that doesn't change anything or resolve the issue. He's not smart like Donnie, he's not warm and compassionate like Mikey, he's not a symbol for people to follow like Leo. In these ways, he understands wanting to do more and being so angry when facing the reality that you can't. Or rather, as you are right now, you can't.

This is more of a personal headcanon for me, but I'd imagine that it took rough a lot of effort and dedication to get the build that he currently has / maintains. I wouldn't be surprised if it took him quite some time to build up that body mass, you know what I mean? So I was also going to reference that at some point in relation to Raph talking about not being where you want to be yet- How for years, he felt so weak compared to Splinter and that upset him,, But it also motivated him to be the person that he currently is + why he takes training more seriously than everybody else. Because he was tired of feeling weak.

This basically segways into Raph helping April with her training during the Farmhouse Arc and this being the most significant way in which they build their new relationship with each other ! He's a little impressed with April's dedication to improving too, which also helps him view April differently / give them something in common. When they return to New York City, I'm sure April would want to feel confident in herself and capable of fixing this mess- Raph getting her there feels like a no brainer to me. I'd also include moments where they're not training and just hanging out regularly during their stay at the Farmhouse ! Something that admittedly would've taken some convincing on April's part, since even though I said Raph's anger simmered, that doesn't mean that it completely vanished right away. But eventually he'd agree to it and slowly let April in again. Maybe not even again though, since they didn't really have a relationship prior to this in my eyes (Nor do they interact a lot canonically as it is-). So this would honestly feel like Raph letting April in for the very first time-! 😭

Also, of course I'm going to be throwing in some hints of 2012 Raphril here and there within this comic- This is me we're talking about- LMAO 💛❤️

I also totally address Donnie's behaviors towards April / his (Most likely unintentional?) misogynistic tendencies. How his coddling of her harms her rather than helps her. His lack of respect for her choices and her autonomy (Specifically referencing, "Within the Woods" where he blatantly acknowledges that April is interested in Casey but instead of respecting that, he feels the need to "prove to her" that she's wrong-?? For not choosing him, basically- 💀). His unhealthy possessives over her as a person. Etc. ! 😔👍

Sorry this was another lengthy yap post-! Basically I agree that April should've had more focus in relation to the S2 finale aftermath like that person was talking about, but I also think the Farmhouse Arc should've better established April's relationships within the group- Idk- ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯ Lmao

[glitchinginthegarden]

Woke up with thoughts so here we go:

Johnny’s behavior early in the game makes 100% sense and I support it because it fits his character writing and situation.

I've been seeing a lot of newer cyberpunk players getting onto the "Johnny is an absolute piece of shit" / "why would anyone do anything for this douchebag" soapbox and they're entitled to that opinion BUT...

Coming from the perspective of having completed the game multiple times and done plenty of digging into the ttrpg stuff, it fits. We also have to keep in mind the unreliable narrator factor but that's another thing all together.

In the beginning (after the nightmare night), Johnny is playing the face of cool dude who's suddenly on V's side while actively attempting to manipulate them. This tracks for his character, yes, but also for Night City.

If their positions were swapped, I know for a fact my V would be doing the same exact thing to her unwilling host. Which, when you break it down, is simply an attempt to regain control over a situation where she has none.

I don't blame Johnny in the slightest for that at that point in the plot. It's in human nature to fight tooth and nail for survival. Why would that not extend to someone who's been trapped in soul prison for fifty years too?

He's just "escaped" Mikoshi only to wake up imprisoned (again) in the mind of a complete stranger. Can you blame him for trying to find an angle he can work there?

Because I don't.

Everything tells us yes, Johnny is an asshole who historically has generally only looked out for himself. But not that he's been actively or maliciously intent on causing harm to the people around him. He doesn't behave the way he does for the hell of it, he does it (in my opinion) because in the past, his flavor of manipulation has worked and usually gotten him what he wants.

Which brings me to another thing: I've also seen some comments about how he doesn't tell V certain things depending on how you talk to him. That he withholds more if V is nice than when they're more mean to him. And that also tracks for his character.

Now, I will say that I haven't played a lot of "be mean to Johnny" runs, but if he does drop more info for that, I'm not surprised. Case and point: the oil fields.

Johnny is a person who won't take shit seriously unless he gets a kick in the ass for his behavior. V has to call him on his bullshit to get that sweet approval boost for Don't Fear The Reaper. So, it ultimately it makes sense for him to cough up more information along the line if V isn't being nice about getting it or calls him on being a dodgy fuck. Johnny doesn't fuck with weak people unless he can use them, that's not a secret.

He's playing his cards close to his chest for the most part and it makes sense. He has sparingly few hands to play after 50 years in soul prison. Why would he show his spread to someone who, depending on where you are in the plot, ultimately wants to end him again and scrape him off their brain? He's trying to survive.

He's a disabled man with a grand total of eighty something years of untreated ptsd and people wonder why he's not forthcoming with what he knows? Of course he's not. It's unreasonable to expect that, and especially from a character like his.

The point I'm trying to get to here, I suppose, is that I support Johnny’s wrongs because they're in line with his character and that's part of what makes him so well written. Yes, he's an asshole. Yes, he manipulates and lies and cheats to serve his needs. But, c'mon, look at the whole picture. Look at the setting and the other players on the board, and tell me it doesn't make perfect sense.