#yes it's a sequel no you don't need to understand what's happening.

[technofinch]

tonight i bring you another of god's perfect movies

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

What do you think happened to the characters after your fic patched up? Did will get his priorities straight and commit to the reader…pls say yes

Unraveled - Sequel to Patched Up

Here is a very long answer 💖

Rating: Explicit - 18+ only. Minors, DNI.

Pairing: Will Miller x Reader

Warnings: Fluff/angst (flangst). Sexual content: Vaginal sex; safe sex; biting. Not beta-read.

You don't think your coworker means to send your whole day careening off its axis, but it happens anyway. It's tacked onto an invitation to hang out that weekend, coupled with a sigh that she's had no luck hooking up with Ben (who's been out of town) or with the manimal.

You still wince at the term, but you're more intrigued at the fact that Will has turned down your gorgeous friend.

"Oh?" You ply as innocently as possible. She doesn't seem terribly put out as she shrugs a shoulder, setting her laptop and notepad down on her desk.

"He was nice about it, at least. Said he was flattered, but that he travels a bunch, already has his eye on someone."

She says it like it's nothing. And to be fair, to her, it is nothing.

She has no idea that she's just touched on the tenuous string keeping Will—the thought of him in your arms, in your bed, the idea of him—and set the fucking thing on fire.

You're numb and quiet for the rest of the day as the seams of your misplaced devotion silently disintegrate. You drive home stoically, unable to even bring yourself to turn the radio or a podcast on to distract yourself.

You step inside your apartment at 6:02 pm, shut the door, lock up, and draw in a deep breath.

You have no right, no reason to mourn. There's never been an agreement between the two of you. No exclusivity, no expectations, just...an understanding. You'd talked about it. You'd settled on this decision. This is your fault, isn't it?

You should've quit while you were ahead, drawn back when you'd found yourself in tatters after spending nights with him; seaming your sanity back into one piece as your mind spun with his tender smiles, and steady touch; with his eyes slipping shut as his hips bore down against yours—

You raise a hand to pinch the bridge of your nose, fighting desperately to staunch a wave of tears that have been waiting in the wings since approximate 10:38 that morning. You can't rationalize this, not right now.

You'll let yourself put your delusions to bed tonight. You can blame yourself all you want tomorrow, and put yourself back together the way you always have.

--

Piece by piece, thread by thread, you draw yourself back together over the next week, two weeks. You stop letting your every other thought be of him—his sweet eyes, and warm hands, and crushing kisses.

You even go out with a couple of people. You don't shy away from the attention that your coworker manages to drum up when the two of you go to the bar, and when some is directed at you, you manage not to shy from it. You let someone new catch your eye, and hold it for a couple of dates.

The time you spend with him that evening is nice—you go bowling, and then grab a drink. He leaves you on your doorstep with a chaste kiss. It's sweet.

But it doesn't make you feel much.

You think, right now, that may be what you need. Something that can be gently tried and carefully broken in, like a new pair of shoes.

You're just hanging your jacket up when you hear a knock on your door. It makes you freeze, your brow furrowing. You pat down your pockets, glance over your shoulder for your purse. You didn't forget anything in his car—you checked before you got out. You tread toward the door softly, wary of the click of your heels on the entryway tile.

He can't have come back for another kiss, that first one wasn't all that spectacular. He can't want to break things off with you in person. You've only seen one another twice, and besides, why not do that instead of kissing you if he wasn't feeling it?

You peer through the peephole and just manage to stop yourself form sucking in an audible gasp.

The sight of Will Miller at your doorstep has never made you feel queasy before.

Nervous? Sure. Fluttery? Absolutely.

But right now, your heart feels like it just shocked your entire system before dropping into your bile-filled stomach.

You consider for a few moments as you watch him wait calmly on the other side of the door. It's possible that he just got there—that he pulled up, parked, walked up to the front door. But...It's also possible that he saw you get out of that man's car. It's possible that he saw that man kiss you, watched that man leave, and walked up your front steps anyway.

Maybe whoever he has his eye on is busy tonight. Maybe he wants his old, comfortable stand-in, and knows for sure that you're home. You gnaw the inside of your cheek, drawing in a deep breath and rubbing your hand over your pounding heart.

You can leave him in the cold. You can leave him on the doorstep, send the message that you're not interested anymore. You don't have to let him in just because he probably knows that you're in there.

Whatever you do, you cannot open the door. If you open the door, you'll let him in, and then all of the hard work that you've put in over the last couple of weeks will be hacked up, fit only to be sold for scraps.

The night air seems chillier than you remember from just a few moments ago—but then, you had been wearing a jacket.

Will waits there with his hands in his pockets, taking a couple of steps closer as soon as the door is opened fully. You force yourself to stand staunchly still, eyes set on his. But his gaze just sweeps from yours to linger on your lips before capturing yours again.

You won't let him inside, you can just tell him that you've had a long day and that you'd like him to leave.

He lifts one of his hands, knuckles stroking gently along your cheek as he watches your lashes flutter at the contact.

"Can I come in?"

You can say no. He probably just saw you with another man. He knows that you're at least dating, if not with someone. Just because he's here, just because he decided to show up, doesn't mean that he's entitled to your time.

--

He's taking his time.

He has before, but this is different. And it occurs to you belatedly that it may be some kind of goodbye. It makes you ache, and hide your face in his neck as his hips roll against yours with deliberate slowness.

You draw in the scent of him—his cologne, and deodorant, and sweat, and Will—and you let out a shaky little breath. You're dangerously close to unraveling the way you did two weeks ago, but you can't, not with him here. So you turn your head, squeeze your eyes shut, sink your teeth into the slope of his shoulder.

Will's hips stutter against yours as a groan punches out of him. But he doesn't let out a word of complaint, or teasing. He slips a hand up from your thigh and grasps the hair at the nape of your neck, forcing your head back. His slick skin slips from your teeth as you shudder, your back bowing as you push up against him.

Will peers down at you, those sweet lips parted as he pants softly. His typically bright blue eyes are dark, and covetous. You get as good a look at them as you can before his mouth descends on yours, tongue slipping between your lips.

You can't bring your hands to settle. The sweep across his arms, his hair, his neck, his face, the slick indent of your bite mark.

And maybe it's your turn to be the sadist, to twist the knife knowingly, just a little.

Pressing into the tender skin makes Will break the kiss with a hiss. His hands raise to grasp yours, intertwining your fingers and pinning you them to the bed. You whimper, pressing up into his iron-tight grip, but to no avail. You squeeze his hands, sink back into the mattress, and unravel as he gives and takes and takes and takes.

--

"When'd you get back in town?"

Asking the question feels like you're losing the last vestiges of safety that you'd managed to build up around yourself in your time without him. You shouldn't still want to know. You should give less of a fuck about where he's been, what he's been up to.

But with his body nestled against yours, his palms resting on your thighs, you tell yourself that you'll pick yourself back up tomorrow (again), patch yourself together (again), and move on from Will Miller once and for all (again).

He doesn't answer right away, and after a few moments, you realize that he isn't awake.

Tipping your head down to get a better look at him, you see his closed eyes, and you stop breathing for a moment to feel his—the deep, even pull of it, the push of it against your bare skin. You blink dumbly for a moment before you tip your head back.

You can wake him up. You can shoo him out. He's a grown man, he can handle it.

You reach out just enough to draw the covers up over the two of you and your bedside shut the lamp off.

--

You awake to the feeling of Will pressing his teeth into your clavicle—not hard enough to hurt, and likely not anywhere near enough to mark. But you groan and wriggle, shoving at his forehead all the same. He just presses his body more tightly to yours, hands slipping down to grasp and pin your hips.

You scrub your eyes sleepily, smiling as Will's tongue laves to irritated skin. He rests his chin against your shoulder, the brush of his beard just on the edge of tickling you. You reach up, gently raking your nails against his scalp.

"You stayed."

He doesn't nod, or him, or shrug. He just watches, and waits. And you can handle silence, you can. You'll wait him out.

You manage all of ten seconds before it gets to you.

"...How long have you been back in town?"

"A few hours."

Hours? You'd been expecting him to say days, weeks—

"When did you—?"

"Around nine."

Nine. You'd been dropped off around nine. If Will was being honest, it meant that he'd driven right to yours. You avert your gaze, fighting to keep your composure in the face of Will's steady focus.

"Oh?"

"Mm." One of his hands smooths up and over your thigh, fingers swirling in aimless patterns. "Who was he?"

You're unable to stop or hide your wince, and you pull yourself out from under him as your tangle of feelings flare. He lets you up, and sits up himself. You can feel the close watch that he keeps on you as you grab your bathrobe, tugging it on and tying it more tightly than necessary.

"Well?" He prods after a moment.

"Just a guy I've been seeing."

"How many times?"

"A couple."

"Serious?"

"The hell does that matter?" You scoff. Will remains steady in the face of your irritation, just watching you move around your room, picking up your discarded clothing. You lay his pants on the bed, and he gamely catches his underwear and shirt when you throw them at him. He stands, pulls the underwear on, but doesn't bother with anything else.

"You wouldn't have let me in if it was," He argues. You shake your head, your protestation clogging up your throat. You both know he's right on that point, there's no point quibbling.

"Was your first choice unavailable?" You grumble.

"Excuse me?"

"I've been told you have your eye on someone." You don't dare look at him as the quiet fills the room, and stretches to suffocating as you wait for Will's answer.

"...Yeah," He confirms. And it's like it's 6:02 in your entryway all over again. Tears prickle in your eyes, and your stomach churns with upset. But you just nod, raising your hand to pinch the bridge of your nose and steady yourself again.

"So?" You press. "Why aren't you wherever she is?"

"I am."

It's spoken deceptively softly, so quietly that you nearly miss it the same time. You shake your head, trying to make sense of the words over the blood pounding in your ears.

"Excuse me?"

You register the slight creak of the floorboards as Will stands, the soft padding of his feet as he gets closer. He takes hold of your wrist, drawing it back from your face as he gently grasps your chin with his other hand.

"I just got back into town and I came right here," He murmurs.

"For a bootycall."

"To ask you out...And yeah, for a bootycall."

His warm smile widens as you sputter a disbelieving laugh, the force of it pushing a few waiting tears from your eyes. Will reaches up, gently smoothing the drops away before he presses a kiss to your forehead.

"I should've said something sooner. That is," He dips his head to meet your eyes, "If this is something that you want."

You huff, reaching up and dabbing irritatedly at your eyes with the sleeve of your bathrobe.

"Can we just be clear about what this is?" You sniffle.

"Dating, for a start."

"A start?"

"Mhm. I'm happy to take it slow, considering how quickly other areas have accelerated."

You consider him for a few moments—the heat of him, the steadiness. He stayed. Will Miller fell asleep in your bed, in your fucking arms. He came to your first.

Your eyes stray to his shoulder, to the slight mark left behind by your teeth the night before. You reach up, skimming your fingertip over it.

"Sorry," You mumble.

"S'okay," He soothes, smoothing his hands over your hips and drawing you closer. "So?"

"Okay."

"Can we just be clear about what you're saying 'okay' to?"

You do your best to shoot him a disapproving glare, but you can't help the smile beginning to twist your lips.

"Okay," You lean into it. "I would like to date. For a start."

Tag list: @missredherring​ ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta​ ;  @paintballkid711​ ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @blueeyesatnight ​;

@recklessworry ; @amneris21​ ; @ew-erin​ ; @youngkenobilove​ ; @carbonated-beverage​​​​ ;

@lorecraft ; @millllenniawrites ; @chattychell ; @dihra-vesa​​ ; @kmc1989

@videogamesandpoorlifechoices ; @missswriter​ ; @thembosapphicclown​ ; @brandyllyn ; @realwhoreforfictionalmen

@wildmoonflower ; @mad-girl-without-a-box ; @winchestershiresauce

[atleastpleasetelephone]

Kinktober Day 23 - Bondage/Restraints

A/N: This is a sequel to Kinky Boots.

Pairing: Elvis x reader

Word count: 1.8K

TWs: Bondage (handcuffs and tied ankles), reader calls Elvis daddy, praise kink, the cane gets *involved*, sub/dom dynamics, name-calling, Elvis is pretty rough with reader, a little pain kink, degredation kink, oral (m receiving), fingering, reader cries a little... think that's it?!

Kinktober masterlist

You've always been obsessed with his cane collection. He's told you repeatedly not to play with them, that they're dangerous and not toys, but you're not a good listener. Sometimes you just see things you like and get carried away. This is one of those times, and of course he finds you. 

“Little girl,” His voice a low rumble. 

“Mmmm.” 

You put your hands behind your back and try your best to look innocent. 

“What have I told ya about playing with those?”

You wrinkle your nose and squeeze your eyes shut, as if you're trying to remember something difficult. 

“Not to?” You try, eyes springing open again. 

“Hmmm. Exactly. So what're ya doin’ just now?”

You twist back and forth on the spot, spinning your little skirt out. 

“Sorry, Daddy. They're just so pretty.”

Looking down, hoping that somehow that will make it all better.

“You will be sorry,” he growls, making you start.

“I-I… but I really am…” 

He shakes his head, pulling one of the sword sticks out of the closet and then grabbing you around the upper arm and manoeuvring you into the middle of the room. 

“Ya like ‘em, donta’tcha?” He asks, his voice suddenly soft. 

Nodding eagerly, you look up at him again, hoping maybe he's not as mad as you first thought.

“They're so pretty, Daddy.”

“How much ya like ‘em?” He asks, moving closer to you and pressing the silver top of the cane between your breasts. 

“Mmm. A lot, Daddy.”

He smirks and runs the end of the cane over your breast now, lingering on the nipple he can see through your top. 

“A lot?”

The cane moves down over your belly and then you feel him push it under your skirt and between your legs. 

“Mmhmmm.”

He rubs it against your clothed pussy, watching for your reaction. You moan softly. It's not as if you haven't done this to yourself whilst he wasn't here, but him doing it to you is something else. 

“Think ya need me to teach ya a lesson, hm? What happens when little girls don't do as they're told?”

He's breathing hard, watching your pupils dilate and your cheeks redden. 

“Yes, Daddy.”

You bite your lip. You know your panties must be soaking by now. 

“Panties off,” he instructs. “Lie down on the bed.” Moving the cane away from you now, making you groan in frustration. 

You do as he says, quickly pulling your panties off and lying down. He smirks, kneeling between your spread legs and pushing your little skirt out of his way. 

“Now you know you've been a very naughty little girl,” he hums. 

“Yes, Daddy.”

“I hope you're going to take your punishment f'me?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Do I have to use these?” Pulling a pair of handcuffs from his pocket. 

You stare at them for a while. You feel like you know what he's going to do and wonder if you need restraining. You sigh. You're a brat, you probably do. 

“You should, Daddy. Don't know what I might do if you don't.”

“Hmmm.”

One thing that can be said for you, he thinks, is that you know your limits. And you know when you might be about to do something to make him mad. 

“Good girl,” he tells you, firmly, as he cuffs your wrists to the bed. “Legs too?”

You nod. 

He's had the bed at Graceland specially modified so that there are loops attached to it, and he pushes rope through them, tying your legs in place too. Looking back to survey his handiwork he can't help smiling. You're spreadeagled on the bed with your arms above your head, completely helpless. 

“Ya ready?” He asks. 

Over the months you've been together he's got better about checking in with you. It took him a while to understand that just because you're submissive doesn't mean he can do whatever he wants and you'll be happy. Not that he hasn't always fussed over you from time to time, but his aftercare isn't exactly consistent. It took a few tears for him to realise that he needs to love on you afterwards too. Every time.

“Yes, Daddy,” you tell him, even though you're not sure you are. 

He takes the head of the cane and puts it between your legs again, gently rubbing it over your pussy, collecting the arousal there and spreading it around. You moan at the feeling of the cold metal against you, almost certain now that you know where this is headed.

You feel it push inside you and gasp. It's so hard and cold, so unyielding, that it almost frightens you. But it's also what you've wanted to do ever since you saw this cane for the first time. You know there's a sword inside it. You know you shouldn't want this. But you really do. As he starts to pull it out and push it back in again, a little further each time, you hear yourself moaning desperately. 

“You're such a filthy little girl,” he tells you. “Letting me fuck you with whatever I want.”

You whine. “Yes, Daddy… Ohhh…”

“You like that?”

He pushes the cane in deeper, so far now that the thrusts are hitting your cervix, bruising it. You squeak.

“Daddy, it hurts.”

He shakes his head, carrying on with his movements, sliding the cane in and out, slick with your juices. 

“Should have done as you were told then, shouldn't ya?” Pushing in somehow even further.

You yelp. “S-sorry.”

He laughs and lightly slaps your clit, enjoying the noises you make in response.

“Maybe this will teach ya to listen to me, hm? Little bit of pain. You're gonna feel this tomorrow, little girl.”

He picks up the pace, slamming the end of the cane into you over and over again as his thumb makes circles on your clit. It hurts but it feels so good at the same time, and you don't know what to do with yourself, pulling on your restraints, bruising your wrists now too. 

“Cum for Daddy like the filthy little slut I know y’are,” he hisses. 

You can't help it, the words and the sensations are too much and suddenly you find yourself crying out, your back arching off the bed as you cum hard and messily.

“Fuck,” you mutter as you feel him slowly pull the cane back out of you again. 

“Lick it clean f'me,” he instructs, pushing the end against your lips. 

You open them willingly and find yourself deep-throating it, split everywhere. He laughs again. 

“Nasty little girl.”

You whine and he finally pulls the cane back out of your mouth, watching as you cough a little and then look up at him desperately. 

“Want your dick, Daddy, please,” you beg, opening your mouth again. 

He grins. “You promise to swallow all Daddy's cum like a good girl?”

When you nod eagerly he unzips his pants and pulls his dick out, hard from watching you like this. He loves degrading you, though he's sure he shouldn't. Sometimes it seems like you're the only thing in his life that he can control. Straddling your head he pushes into your warm, wet mouth, groaning at the feeling of you all around him. 

Guiding his dick with his hand, he starts to pump in and out, picking up speed as he feels his pleasure build. 

“Mmm. Good girl,” he mumbles, starting to lose control already, pushing further inside, fucking your throat. 

You moan and cough and struggle to breathe a little, pulling on your cuffs. Feeling tingling and wetness between your legs again. You love taking him like this, it really turns you on. Love especially watching him lose control, starting off gently and building to rough mouth fucking, making spit flow out everywhere and making you gasp, desperate for air.

“C’mon little girl,” His voice is raspy now. “Ya can take more than this, I know ya can.”

You whimper around his dick, your eyes wide and watery as he thrusts in deeper, obscene wet noises coming from your mouth and throat, pulling even harder on your cuffs. You want to grab his ass and pull him even further into you. Or touch yourself. Either would do.

He's not paying any attention to what you want though, his own high is so close now he keeps thrusting in and out, grunting as he feels his release in the base of his dick. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. I'm cumming,” he tells you, breathlessly, a warning that comes a few seconds before a last deep thrust and his release emptying down your throat. 

His hips rock a little as he closes his eyes, moaning and groaning at how good it feels. Then he remembers to pull out and lies down next to you, his breath coming in harsh pants.

“Good girl,” he whispers as he traces the contours of your face with a finger.

“Please,” you whisper back. 

“Hmm?” 

He thinks you probably want to be untied and moves to unlock your handcuffs. 

“N-no,” You just about manage. “Will you make me cum again?” Your eyes big and pleading. 

He chuckles. “Oh lil girl. Ya never are satisfied, are ya?”

You whine. “Love takin’ you so much, makes me so wet,” you tell him, wriggling about against your restraints. 

“I know,” he hums, then lets his finger trail down your body, over the curve of your breast and down to your hip bone. 

You wiggle again and he laughs. “Alright, alright. Since you've been so good f’me.”

The finger makes its way between your pussy lips, stroking up and down until it's covered in your arousal. Then he slowly circles your clit with it, watching for your reaction, your face reddening even more, teeth nibbling on your lower lip. He loves being able to bring you to the edge so quickly with just one finger. 

“Cum for me, baby,” he says, so sweetly that when you do, your body pulsing and a soft moan escaping your lips, you find tears falling  down your cheeks too.

“Hey,” he quickly undoes all the restraints, pulling you into his arms. “What's wrong, baby? Was I too rough?” 

His gentleness makes you cry even more, sobbing gently against his chest. 

“Baby? I'm sorry. Ya know I love ya…”

“Oh, El,” you shuffle. “I loved it. I dunno why I'm crying…”

He snuggles you closer. “Are ya sure I wasn't too rough?”

You shake your head. “No, no. I loved it. I love you.”

He strokes your back with his big hands and you start to calm down. Sighing softly as you finally relax. 

“You can play with them y'know,” he murmurs into your ear.

“Hmm?” 

“The canes. If you're careful.”

You move your head back and stroke his face gently. “Really, Daddy?”

He smiles. “Really, baby. Think ya learned your lesson.”

Taglist:

Please let me know if you want to be added or removed:

@vintagepresley @arg-xoxo @from-memphis-with-love @msamarican @blursedblegh @returntopresley @another-identityofmine @eapep @everythingelvispresley @i-r-i-n-a-a @sissylittlefeather @arrolyn1114 @jhoneybees @cattcb @polksaladava @lookingforrainbows @jkdaddy01 @ccab @epthedream69 @lustnhim @elvisslut @pomtherine @that-hotdog @ladelinee @angschrof @fairybloodsucker @deltafalax @makethemorning @elviswhore69 @ilovequeen978

[bouquet-of-flow3rs]

!Pairing: Loser!Jake x Cheerleader!Reader!

Genre: Strangers to lovers, mutual pinning, fluff.

Synopsis: You have been pinning over a boy you repeatedly see in the hallway on Fridays and one day you finally get to meet him.

Warnings: Swearing, make outs. [Let me know if I missed anything!]

Jake Sim loves a lot of things.

He loves his dog, Layla.

He loves his family. 

But he especially loves School Spirit Fridays, In fact, those are the days he looks forward to most on school days simply because It means he gets to see you all dolled up in your cheerleading uniform.

You are [Y/n] [L/n] the cheer captain you were the kind of girl that guys wanted and girls wanted to be. Jake believes you came from another planet simply because you were able to pull off the hideous school color combination of red and yellow, now normally, these colors together would be fine but the problem was all people could think about was McDonald's when looking at the cheer team. While you managed to pull it off others looked like they should pull it off since it didn't suit them. On these specific days Jake makes sure to show up in rooms or hallways he knows you walk down simply so he could catch a glimpse of you and if he was fortunate enough he’d catch a whiff of your strawberry-scented perfume. Naturally, his friends make fun of him for this and tease him relentlessly, especially Niki the youngest of his friends, “Dude, you really need to stop with the [Y/n] obsession.” The tall boy teases, “It's seriously embarrassing for you.” He finishes but Jake just brushes him off “You don't understand Niki.” He sighs blissfully, “It's not an obsession, it's love.” Jake states, staring at you with heart eyes as you walk past him once again, “Listen, Jake,” Niki chuckles at his hyung, “You should try just talking to her,” Niki shrugs, “Besides the worst that can happen is she’ll reject you.” This makes Jake whip his head towards the boy with a scowl on his face, “What! No way dude!” He refuses, “What if she thinks I’m weird or something? Or what if she laughs in my face!” He spirals his fingers tugging at his hair in worry.

Meanwhile, you walk into your next class and search the room for the familiar head of your friend Mina. Once you find her you quickly rush over, “Mina!” You squeal, “Guess who I saw again!” You giggle girlishly, and she rolls her eyes, every Friday you do this. you walk down the same hallways so that you can see the boy you for some reason think is cute. She sighs, “Was it your little hallway crush again?” She guesses gruffly, you sequel again and nod your head violently, "Yes, I saw him again!” you smile widely, she laughs at your actions and pats your head making you pout, “You should seriously just go up and talk to him.” she tries to reason with you “Besides no guy could turn the cheer captain down.” She encourages but this just makes you pout more, “But what if he only says yes because I’m the cheer captain?” you cry out “Nah, I’m sure he wouldn’t do that.” She tries to comfort you.

Later you’re sat in class staring at the clock as the minutes tick down until lunch begins. You groan and place your head on the cold surface of your desk glancing over at Mina who is paying attention to the lesson up front. “Psst!” You hiss out trying to catch her attention “Mina!” You whisper shout in her direction finally gaining her attention from a few seats away, she side-eyes you before rolling her eyes and finally paying attention to you, “I'm so boreddd~” you moan out quietly so you don't get in trouble with your teacher, “And what does that have to do with me.” She whispers out sharply, and you groan again, shifting positions “Nothing, I guess but I need you to cure me of it.” You say your voice muffled by your desk, she chuckles at you before turning back towards the front. After she stops paying attention to you you start thinking of random things like what your next cheer choreography should be, and the one you spend the most time thinking about, your hallway crush. 

On Fridays you always see him heading down the same hall as you and your heart skips a beat, you’ve always thought he’s rather cute and you like the glasses he wears, not to mention his accent, gosh do you love a man with an accent. When you stop daydreaming you glance up at the clock and see there's still a whole five minutes before class ends, groaning you place your head back on your desk and jump at how cold it is you hate how cold this teacher leaves his classroom so you try to pull your skirt down lower on your legs to try and stay warm, your saving grace being your long-sleeved uniform top but even the fabric was rather thin and didn't fight well against the elements, but you always made sure to wear it on School Spirit Fridays since you are the captain. You somehow manage to fall asleep and abruptly wake up when you hear the bell go off as you jump to your feet and rush out of the classroom and towards the cafeteria unfortunately for you, you're not watching where you’re going, and end up crashing into some poor individual sending you both down crashing to the cold tile floor. When you look down to who you’ve crushed underneath you you’re mortified to find it's your hallway crush.

Jake’s eyes widen as he sees the incoming floor after somebody had rudely shoved him, when they both fell to you floor the person had somehow managed to fall on him, I mean the nerve of some people, but when he glimpses over his shoulder to see his attacker he catches a whiff of perfume he could never forget, his eyes trail up and land to see your blushing face. No. Fucking. Way. He nearly combusts, but before he can even say anything you’re quickly rushing to get off of him spouting out intelligible words and all he can catch is “I am so, so sorry!” He smiles at you and pushes himself up too before speaking, “N-no worries.” He tries to calm you down but keeps stuttering over his words, you giggle at how cute the boy in front of you is but you immediately regret it because his face looks scared and you immediately apologize again “Sorry, sorry I promise I’m not laughing at you it’s just you look really cute.” You accidentally blurt out the last part, at hearing your words Jake’s face feels like it’s on fire, he can’t seem to get any words out of his mouth, you being the overthinker you are think his wide eyes mean he’s taken offense to your rushed compliment and you immediately try to apologize but his face begins to show a large grin and he starts to laugh you stand there confused but you then join him laughing at the ridiculous moment you shared. Jake’s laughs slowly die down as he wipes an imaginary tear away “Sorry I didn’t mean to laugh it's just that I think you’re really cute too.” He smiles at you and suddenly it feels as if your whole world is brighter, you shyly thank him and offer to buy him lunch as an apology, Jake swears he's dead and has  gone to heaven, “Oh, Uhm sure.” He agrees trying to act nonchalant but you can still see the flush on his face, you then grab his large hand in yours and walk off towards the cafeteria leaving both your friends and his standing there in disbelief at what just happened.

Back at the cafeteria you and Jake sit and start to get to know each other, you talk about a lot of different things, and he ends up showing you a picture of Layla and you instantly fall in love with her, “Oh my gosh!” You squeal, “She is so adorable!” you take his phone from his hand and start admiring the photo up close, Jake laughs at your reaction and grabs his phone from your hands brushing his fingers against yours in the process, causing the both of you to blush, “Uhm, If you want I could introduce you to her someday.” He says shyly avoiding eye contact with you and rubbing the back of his head, You quickly grasp his free hand leaning over the table and pressing it against your chest “Really? You’d do that!” You ask excitedly, his eyes dart down to where his hand is and immediately looks away nodding his head, “Y-yea.” He gulps, and you smile brightly at him, “Oh,” you gasp, “I forgot to introduce myself, I’m [Y/n}.” you say sweetly, he smiles back and you mumble a quiet “I know.” you ask if he said something but he shakes you off and says “Oh, I said I’m Jake.” You mentally congratulate yourself on figuring out your hallway crush’s name “You have a nice name, Jake.” You compliment, he stutters out a meek “You too [Y/n].” causing you to giggle.

After that day you would always seek the boy out during lunch so you could talk to him more, the more you got to know him the more you fell for him, little did you know he felt the same way, he couldn’t believe the girl he’s been crushing on since sophomore year was actually talking to him, he knew you were pretty but you also had a great personality on top of that? God, he's in love. You’ve been hanging out for a couple of weeks now when he finally offers to have you meet Layla. 

Jake stands there next to the gate of the school waiting for your cheer practice to end and for the two of you to walk to his house together, he waits there for a few more minutes before he sees your figure in the distance jogging towards him and shouting his name, he thinks you’re so adorable your school uniform is neat and you somehow still look perfect even though you've just finished jumping around for an hour, when you finally reach the boy you practically jump him wrapping yourself around him like a koala, as he rushes to catch you, you both stand there for a moment giggling to yourselves before you finally let go and grab his hand to start dragging him away from the school, “Come on Jake, we can’t keep Layla waiting.” You laugh out, he smiles at you as you drag him away chuckling at how perfect he believes you are.

After Jake stears you the correct way to his house he pulls his keys from his backpack and unlocks the door, the first thing you’re greeted with is the golden border collie jumping up onto Jake and the sweet sound of his laughter, you coo at the scene and immediately drop your things to rush over and start babying the good girl, she definitely enjoys the attention and starts to jump onto you making you laugh as she tries to lick your face, Jake is nervous that you won’t like that so he tries to assist you in getting her off of you but you glare at him and he puts his hands up in surrender and lets the puppy continue to tackle you. After playing with Layla for a few hours you both decided to watch a movie, you wanted Barbie movies but Jake insisted you watch the Andrew Garfield Spiderman movies, after playfully arguing and a game of rock paper scissors to see which movie you’d watch the winner came out to be Jake, so as he opened the app to watch them, you sat on his living room couch cuddled up with Layla laying over both of your laps.

You were now on the second movie and you had shifted over closer to Jake and laid your head on his shoulder, Jake felt that he needed to stay perfectly still but that made you more uncomfortable so you looked up at him and when you did, you noticed him already looking at you. Your faces are inches apart, he could feel your breath fanning over his face, your noses brushing against each other, Jake’s gaze drops to your plump lips and he gulps his Adam's apple bobbing, you stay there staring at him for a couple of seconds before closing the gap and pressing your lips against his, you can feel his glasses bump into your face and your nose brushing against his flushed cheek,  your lips splitting as you hear a wet pop, all the color drops from your face and you start to sputter out an apology “I’m so so sorry oh my god,” You panic, “I should definitely not have done that I’m so sorry I-” “[Y/n]” Jake tries to butt in “I’m so so-” you’re suddenly cut off by Jake placing his hands on your flushed cheeks and pulling you in for a second kiss, this kiss is more passionate than the one you shared before and it pulls you in deeper and deeper, it's dizzying the way Jake kisses you it's messy and desperate but more than anything it perfect.

After kissing for a few minutes you finally pull apart from each other and Jake rests his forehead against yours both of you stilling trying to catch your breath eyes closed but holding each other tightly in your arms, After catching his breath Jake finally works up the courage to ask you out, “Uhm,” He breathes out his voice hoarse, You stare at him with your foreheads still connected, “c-can I be your boyfriend?” He asks, his voice hesitant but filled with hope, you quickly pull your forehead away before tackling him to lay down on the couch, your arms wrapped around his neck and your face on his chest breathing in his cologne, “Only if you’ll let me be your girlfriend.” You giggle out, “It’s a deal.”

Please reblog and like if you enjoyed this!

[earthtoharlow]

Don’t Like The Lights

Sequel to Flashing Lights series, must read Flashing Lights first to understand

Series Masterlist

10. Easier Said

Healing and patience are lovers. Don't place the blame on your heart, just to shut 'em up. There ain't a rush to recover

“It looks like he’s been stalking you for months, sending you threatening messages. He was outside your home for hours before breaking in, waiting for the right moment. In his backpack he had a knife, zip ties, mace, and duct tape….”

Jack immediately started to turn pale. Without a word he pushes away from the table abruptly, excuses himself and leaves the room. 

Once in the hallway Jack leans against the wall taking deep breaths to calm himself down. The more details that came out the sicker he felt. 

He stumbles to a nearby trash can and empties his stomach. His body was shaking with anger and fear. Jack just couldn’t believe how close they had come to something bad happening to the love of his life. 

Jack pulls out his phone and dialed his mom’s number, needing the comfort of her voice. It rang a few times before she answered.

“Hey, baby,” his mom said warmly. “How are you holding up?”

“Not great, Mom,” he admitted, his voice shaky. “I feel so guilty. Maryse hasn’t been sleeping, and I just… I should’ve been there. I keep thinking about what could’ve happened if Maryse didn’t escape or if he chased after her…”

“Oh, honey,” she sighed. “This isn’t your fault. You’ve done everything you can to keep her safe. Sometimes, bad things happen no matter how much we try to prevent them.”

“I know, but it doesn’t stop me from feeling like I failed her,” he said, his eyes welling up with tears. “She made me barricade the doors of the hotel last night. That’s the only thing that makes her feel safe enough to sleep, and even then, it’s not much” 

His mom’s voice softened, filled with empathy. “It’s natural to feel that way, but you need to remember that she needs you to be strong now. You’re her rock. And it’s okay to feel scared, but don’t let it consume you. Talk to her, let her know how you’re feeling.”

Jack nodded, even though she couldn’t see him. “I just want her to be okay, Mom. I can tell she’s still terrified.”

“She’s been through a lot,” his mom said gently. “It’s going to take time for her to feel safe again. Be patient with her, and with yourself.”

“Thanks, Mom,” he said, feeling a small sense of relief. “I really needed to hear that.”

“You’re welcome, baby. Just remember, you’re doing your best, and that’s all anyone can ask for. Take care of yourself too, okay? She needs you to be strong, but you can’t do that if you’re running on empty.”

“I will,” he promised. “I love you, Mom.”

“I love you too. And tell Maryse I’m thinking of her.”

“I will,” he said, taking a deep breath. “Thanks again.”

He took a moment to get his emotions together before returning to the room. Maryse looked up from where she sat with the officer. 

“Are you okay?” She asked softly. 

Jack took a deep breath, crossing the room to sit beside her. “Yeah, I just needed a minute,” he told her. 

“Thank you for always being there for me,” Maryse whispered. “Especially now.”

Jack gently took her hand, his thumb brushing over the promise ring on her finger. “I promised you, didn’t I?” he said softly. “You’re my world. I’ll always be here for you.”

Maryse pressed a small kiss to his lips, before turning back towards the officer. 

“We’ll be taking this to court,” the officer said firmly. “Given the amount of evidence we have, it shouldn’t be a long process.”

She let out a shaky breath, relief and anxiety mingling in her chest. “So, there’s a chance this will be over soon?” she asked.

“Yes,” the officer assured her. “We have more than enough to make a strong case. The restraining order will stay in place, and we’ll ensure you have the protection you need.”

Jack squeezed her hand, offering silent support. “Thank you, officer,” he said. “We appreciate everything you’re doing.”

The officer nodded. “We’ll keep you updated on every step. In the meantime, make sure to reach out if you need anything. Your safety is our priority.”

As the officer left, Maryse turned to Jack, her eyes searching his. “I hope this really is over soon,” she whispered, laying her head on his shoulder. 

“It will be.” Jack told her just as quietly, pressing a kiss to her forehead. 

***

Maryse was bouncing her knee nervously as the courthouse buzzed as it was the final day of trial. She looked back towards Jack and Urban who were sitting behind her for support. Neither of them had missed a single court date. The months leading up to this moment had been a whirlwind of fear, and anxiety, Now, it was all coming to a head.

The fan was seated a few feet away from her, being so close to him still sent chills down her spine. This whole trial he sat with an indifferent expression, like he knew his fate. 

The judge cleared his throat, breaking the heavy silence. “After careful consideration of the evidence and testimonies presented, this court finds the defendant guilty of stalking and breaking and entering. It is the judgment of this court that the defendant be sentenced to 15 years in prison, followed by 15 years of probation.”

As the words hung in the air, Maryse couldn’t help but feel relief but frustration as well. Fifteen years of prison meant the fan would be off the streets for a significant period, but the probation period meant he would still have some freedom after serving his time.

The judge continued, “During the probation period, the defendant is to have no contact with the victim, and any violation of this order will result in immediate re-incarceration.”

As the gavel came down, signaling the end of the trial, Maryse exhaled a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. The fan was escorted out of the courtroom in handcuffs, his expression still unreadable.

Maryse felt a tear slip down her cheek as the weight of the verdict settled in. It wasn’t the life sentence she had hoped for, but it was a step towards reclaiming her peace.

Jack immediately joined her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders, pulling her close. “It’s over,” he whispered. “We can finally put this behind us.”

As they walked out the courtroom, the sun seemed to be shining brighter, warmer. There was a long road ahead but for the first time in months, Maryse felt like she could breathe again. The nightmare was finally over. 

Jack gently held Maryse’s hand and guided her to their car. “You up for a little trip?” he asked, a hint of excitement in his voice.

Maryse looked at him curiously. “Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise,” Jack replied with a wink, opening the car door for her. “Trust me.”

The drive was short, Maryse watched the scenery change from the urban landscape to rolling hills and open fields. As they pulled up to an empty plot of land, Jack parked the car and turned to her with a smile.

“Come on,” he said, getting out and walking around to open her door.

Maryse stepped out, looking around at the vast, open space. “What is this place?” she asked, confused. 

Jack took her hand, leading her a few steps forward. “I bought this land,” he said, his eyes shining with anticipation. “I thought we could start building our forever home here.”

Maryse’s eyes widened in surprise. “Really? You bought this for us?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Our current place has a lot of memories, but after everything that’s happened, I think it’s time to make new ones. A fresh start.”

Tears welled up in her eyes, but this time they were tears of joy. “I love it,” she whispered, hugging him tightly. “I can’t believe you did this.”

Jack held her close, feeling the relief that was finally setting in. “We’ve been through a lot, but this is our chance to build something beautiful together. Our own space, filled with nothing but good memories.”

Maryse pulled back slightly, looking into his eyes. “Thank you. I can’t wait to see what we create here.”

He kissed her softly, a promise of all the good things to come. “Me too. This is just the beginning.”

After spending almost an hour talking about all the things they wanted in the new house they made the trip back home. 

“So, when we left the courthouse today I had Urban drop something off here.” Jack told her with a mysterious grin on his face.

“Oh god. I don’t like the look on your face.” 

Jack ignored her and guided her to the couch and gestured for Maryse to sit down. “Close your eyes.”

She complied, covering her eyes with her hands. She heard him walk away, then return a few moments later.

“Okay, open your eyes,” Jack said softly.

Maryse opened her eyes and gasped. In his arms was a tiny, wiggling puppy with big eyes and a wagging tail. She covered her mouth in shock, tears springing to her eyes.

“Meet Lou Lou,” Jack said, placing the puppy gently in her lap. “I know how much you’ve always wanted a puppy. I thought this little one could keep us company, especially when we’re missing each other.”

Maryse's heart melted as she gently stroked the puppy’s soft fur. “Oh my god, she’s perfect,” she whispered, looking up at Jack with a grateful smile. “Thank you so much. This means everything to me.”

Jack sat down beside her, watching as Lou Lou nuzzled into Maryse lap. “I know things have been tough, and we both get lonely when we’re apart. I thought having her around would make things a little easier.”

Maryse leaned over and kissed him. “You’re amazing. I can’t believe you did this. I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” he said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “And now, we’ve got our little family started.”

Maryse settled into the couch and watched as Jack played around on the floor, laughing a bit when Lou tried to grab at Jack’s hoodie. Happy that what happened was all behind her now.

***

Couple weeks later Maryse was finally back in the studio for the first time since the incident. She had traveled alone for the occasion, something she hadn’t done since everything happened. She had written a song for the soundtrack of the Color Purple and the producers of the film loved it so much that they asked if Usher could be part of it. The collaboration was also set to appear on his upcoming album.

Her nerves went away as soon and she walked into the recording booth, it was like she never left. The sight of the mixing board, and the hum of quiet conversations around her brought back memories of her life before she had to constantly look over her shoulder.

Maryse was supposed to stay the night in Atlanta but she couldn’t shake the discomfort she felt from being in a hotel room alone at night. The thought of sleeping without Jack by her side felt unsettling. As soon as the session wrapped up, she wasted no time booking the earliest flight back home.

Arriving home in the late hours of the night, she quietly unlocked the door and slipped inside. The house was silent, a comforting contrast to the loud studio. She headed to the bedroom, eager to see Jack.

As she pushed the door open, a heartwarming sight greeted her. Jack was sprawled out on his stomach, mouth wide open, sound asleep. Lou Lou, was curled up on his back, equally as peaceful. Maryse couldn’t help but smile at the adorable scene.

Moving quietly, she set her bag down and approached the bed. She gently placed a hand on Jack's back, careful not to disturb the puppy. He stirred slightly but didn’t wake. She leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, whispering, “I’m home.”

Jack mumbled something incoherent, his eyes fluttering open for a brief moment. “Hey, babe,” he slurred, barely conscious. “You’re back.”

“Yeah,” she whispered, stroking his hair. “I missed you.”

He smiled sleepily, his eyes already closing again. “Missed you too.”

Maryse carefully climbed into bed, trying not to jostle Lou Lou. She settled in beside Jack, her hand resting on his back. The warmth of his body and the soft breathing of their puppy eased the tension that had built up over the past few days.

As she lay there, listening to the quiet sounds of the night, a sense of peace washed over her. She would get through her fears of sleeping alone one day at a time. Being home, with Jack and Lou Lou, was all she needed.

And for now, that was enough.

***

an: thank you for reading as always let me know your thoughts 🫶

Tag List

(message me if you'd like to be added or removed)

@heavyhitterheaux @hoodharlow @neon-lights-and-glitter @babiefries @jackmans-poison @dstark-0706 @harlowsbby @itsyagirljaz @leftapricotprofessorlover @toocriticalharlow @minkookie95 @harlowcomehome @jackharloww @jaydaaasworld @kkrenae @hufflewhore128 @w1ldthoughts @jackiehollanderr @katiaw2 @halfmoondaze @babybardi2 @daphnescorner @angelluv444 @coquette-harlow @wabi-sabi1090

[tedwardremus]

I Don't Love The Dog More (Promise)

This was written for the February 2025 @jilychallenge Prompt: I don't love the dog more. Promise. Partner: @nyxinparadise

This fic is actually a sequel to a fic I wrote for April 2024 Jily Challenge, My Dog Said I Can't Go Out With You. You don't need to read that fic first to understand what is happening in this story but it would probably be fun if you did :)

James Potter had a great life—truly top-notch. He was the Quidditch captain, which meant he could bask in the glory of every Gryffindor victory, lead a team of talented players, and, most importantly, regularly show off in front of the entire school. He had secret adventures with a werewolf once a month, which sounded like the premise of a bad horror novel but, in reality, was one of the best parts of his life. Running through the Forbidden Forest with his best mates, transforming under the full moon, wild and free—it was the kind of thing most wizards could only dream of. Academically, he was no slouch either. He was on track for top NEWT scores. And then there was Lily Evans—Merlin, he was dating her. The most brilliant, fiery, utterly gorgeous girl in the world. And she liked him back. Him. James Potter. It was nothing short of a miracle. Yes, life was good. Fantastic, even. If only he could figure out where his brilliant girlfriend had disappeared to.

[digitalgate02]

How to corrupt Daisuke and give him a dark evolution (and why ep 22 did not need one at all)

Ni has just watched Kamen Rider Geats, and this subject just came into my mind because my favorite character in this series so far has all the traits Daisuke has, and he's even a walking-mess unlucky kid who gets dragged into a whole chaotic series of events which ends up changing his character DRASTICALLY after a point of the series.

No Geats spoilers mentioned here. Don't worry. We're going to pick our favorite specimen Motomiya Daisuke and study how to apply a corruption arc on his portrayal.

This is a spiritual sequel of this post, which explores Daisuke's weaknesses and how you can exploit them to break and beat him. This is an important step, because if you want to turn a character who canonically lacks malice, you need to understand his weaknesses and then go from there.

First thing to know is about Daisuke's pragmatism. One of the episodes which this gets very clear, about how Daisuke being pragmatic is dangerously SCARY, is ep 25:

This whole discussion between the 02 kids (mostly Daisuke, Miyako and Iori) revolves around the fact Golemon is deadly serious about destroying the dam and having more victims and and that they all should just consider the idea of taking that digimon down and avoid the worst scenario happening. I think Shiha explained this part better than me in this specific subject, so check it out.

But knowing this, let's get to the fun(?) part -- Knowing that Daisuke's weaknesses and his pragmatism you can connect them and realize that breaking him is the only way to drive him into frustration and despair. Daisuke, as I said in the spiritual prequel to this post, cannot work well under pressure, so torturing him psychologically like what happens in episodes 8, 10 and 11 is where you weaken his strength and resistances.

In order words: you have to smash every spark of hope inside him, enough to make him lose his way and then start taking questionable choices in order to solve the problem.

Remember: Daisuke has no malice, therefore he wouldn't turn into a sadistic villain who enjoys hurting others for pleasure and wanting others to just suffer. Daisuke's actions would've still been the same as ever, but corrupt.

He would still want to help others, but instead of finding ways the sane Daisuke would've done, he could've been trying to track down whoever ruined everyone's lives --his included -- and take them all down. Because it aligns with his pragmatic approaches, it matches with the concept of "killing the enemy to prevent more causalities" except it gets driven by the seek of revenge and not the pure intent of saving everyone.

Hurting his friends and family -- or even killing them, if you're THAT CRUEL -- is the key. Because the only way to break someone who is not malicious and yes pure-hearted, is attacking all the things he cares deeply about.

As for 02 ep 22, which kept being unfairly criticized for ages because of the misconception about Dark Evolution...

Daisuke has been running in circles and fooling around only.

He had no negative emotions -- something that it is ESSENTIAL to dark evolution

Daisuke and V-mon had been on good terms in this episode, unlike Taichi and Agumon in Adv'99 in which helped to make things worse because Taichi kept pushing a torn of pressure on Agumon thanks to the Crest. The novel has another approach pointing out that Taichi wanted all the glory of being the first to Evolve Greymon further, which tracks with the idea of having corrupted intents (negative emotions)

Daisuke and V-mon ended up in REAL DANGER later, which means sooner V-mon would evolve normally because digimon evolution is also a sync between human-digimon in order to protect something or someone for noble reasons (at least it's what I think it is about)

Therefore I don't agree with the slander Daisuke and this episode suffer from time-to-time.

But there's more: on a very crack-ish drama CD you have this comical corruption arc for Daisuke...

Narrator: And so, Daisuke and V-mon went into the lumbering fog. Soon, it became apparent that the fog had the same abilities as those of the Digital World to change what someone was wearing, like how Miyako had ended up in her battle suit. And during that moment, a certain kind of thought was swirling in Daisuke’s head… Daisuke: I want to be popular…I want to be popular…I want to be popular… Narrator: And, in order to do that… Daisuke: A dark hero…a dark hero…a dark hero… Narrator: …for example? Daisuke: The Digimon Kaiser…The Digimon Kaiser…The Digimon Kaiser… Narrator: And thus, Daisuke underwent a dark evolution. (evolution noise) Daisuke: Daisuke, evolve…!…Digimon Kaiser.

Daisuke: (evil laughter) Miyako: Who’s that?!…Aaaaaaagh! It’s the Digimon Kaiser! Boltmon: What?! Are you the Digimon Kaiser? The one from all of the rumors? Daisuke: Now, everyone. Bow down before me. I am the one who can control even the power of darkness…the Daisuke Kaiser. Hikari: D-Daisuke-kun? Daisuke: I have been reborn. I shall live on as a hero of evil. Understand, you insects? Tailmon: Hmm��it’s lacking in a bit of punch. Daisuke: W-What. Palmon: He’s saying the right words, but that’s not gonna work by itself… Daisuke: Gh — ah — grrk — Mimi: Yeah, I think we all agree. Crowd of girls: Yeah, Ken-chan is cooler. Daisuke: D-Dammit…Why… V-mon: Daisuke! Try kicking me! Like how the Kaiser was always kicking Wormmon around! Daisuke: A-Are you sure?! Okay…

(kick) V-mon: Ow! Daisuke: Aaaaaaaaah! V-mon, are you okay? I was trying to hold back, too, I was hoping it wouldn’t actually hurt… Crowd of girls: Boo! Boo! Boltmon: Boo. Boo. V-mon: No, that’s not gonna work, Daisuke! Even Boltmon’s booing us! You gotta get into the whole “evil” thing! Daisuke: But…I…can’t do that to you… Ken: Motomiya-kun! Daisuke: (attempting Kaiser persona again) Ah. Ichijouji. Ken: I saw you turning into the Kaiser and came running!…(Kaiser voice) Motomiya-kun. You don’t have what it takes to channel the powers of evil. Daisuke: Hey, you don’t know that for sure! I…have decided to live in the grasp of evil! How dare you imply I don’t have enough willpower. Ken: (evil Kaiser laugh) “Not enough willpower,” you say? Hah. Motomiya-kun. You know nothing of the words you speak. It would be more accurate to say…you don’t have enough power to begin with. [...] Daisuke: Nggghghhhgnnnn…V-mon, is it okay if I go all out…? V-mon: (vaguely Wormmon-ish voice): Dai-chan! It’s okay! I don’t care what happens to me…!

... you realize that Daisuke really has no evil in his heart, therefore he's unable to do sadistic things Ken (as the Digimon Kaiser) has done, and then he fails at being a villain.

When Daisuke is trying too hard to be something he isn't, he completely fails at it. He only succeeds at being a cooler or terrifying person if he's not trying to pose as one. Which makes it 10x scary imo...

So i hope you enjoyed how i perceive the concept of corrupting Daisuke in a very effective way... at least for myself 😅

[robo-writing]

Words Unspoken, Actions Taken

Pairing: Clive Rosfield/Reader (AFAB, female pronouns. no Y/N) Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors DNI Word Count: 1.9k words Summary: After Clive returns from another mission battered and bruised you finally give him a piece of your mind. He doesn't take too kindly to your words. Read on AO3! Warnings: Dom! Clive, angry sex, elements of degradation, p in v actions, unprotected sex, fluff (if you squint) Author's Note: Hey y'all, the world was sorely lacking in Clive fics, so I'm doing my part to change that. I love this depressed man and his slutty little waist too much to NOT write for him. Spoilers for a certain character's death, so if you haven't gotten that far, don't read ahead. Update: There's a sequel now!

You’re not surprised you ended up like this, quite the opposite in fact. Clive Rosfield, also known as Cid, your faithful leader and the very symbol of hope to every lost soul who found their way under his wing. A beacon to guide them towards a better life, and to change the world for the better. The very same leader who regularly risked his life for the greater good, much to your dismay, without so much as any concern to himself. 

He was already somewhat of an errand boy when you had first met him, but after Cid died it grew tenfold. The hideaway, the resistance, the increase of bearer violence, it was all too much. He told you as much after you found him one night drinking alone in his room, a hushed confession under the cover of night that without you he wouldn’t have made it this far and you’d be a liar if the memory didn’t make you feel some kind of way. Despite that, he kept on shouldering more and more responsibility, to the point that it was commonplace to have him leave for days on end, returning one day only to be gone the next. It was concerning to the other residents, but most of all to you. 

You admired his efforts, truly. It was noble, but eventually it would catch up to him. You tried to tell him as much, but he would just wave you away and reassure you that he can handle himself.

You’ve seen him fight, you’re well aware of his talents with a blade, but all the training in the world can’t substitute a good night's rest. What happens if he worked himself to death, found himself behind enemy lines and never returned? 

You couldn’t stand to think about it. You worried about him, and in your worry you found yourself growing resentful of his apparent ignorance towards his own well-being. But you held your tongue, forced to keep your emotions to yourself because if nothing else, having him worry about you would only serve to be another item on his long list of responsibilities. You tried, you really did. And then he came back from a mission beaten to hell. Tarja, talented as she was, only barely brought him back from the brink. He was in bed rest for weeks before he was allowed to leave, and in that time your resentment grew to anger. Was it immature? Yes. Did you care? Not particularly. Your attitude change was obvious to anyone in the Hideaway, most of all to Clive, but he figured you were just in a mood, maybe something had happened while he was recovering. In any case, you two were close, you would tell him eventually. It was only after he returned from his latest life-threatening mission that he realized that you were mad at him. Again, you tried to hold yourself back, but when you saw how ignorant he was you couldn’t take it anymore. Words were said, some of which came from a place of genuine care. The others, however… “You’re an idiot if you think I’m going to stand by and watch you kill yourself—” You hissed at him, pacing around the floor of his office. It was there the two of you stood, a back and forth with no end. “I need to carry on his name, his legacy—” He raises his voice before stopping himself to take a shaky breath. “I need to live up to his dream. Don’t you understand that?” “Oh I understand plenty,” You fume. You’re not quite sure where this malice came from, but it was all consuming, ever burning. “Don’t you know that I—we need you here? Alive?” He shakes his head and he says something about his duty and his obligations and you’re completely over it, obviously anything you say is going in one ear and out the other. “Do you think Cid would want you to work yourself to death?” You ask, concern written on your face. “Do you think he’d be proud to see you take no care to yourself?” He doesn’t even look at you anymore, his head bowed. “If it’s for the good of the cause—” You interrupt him before he can say another word. “If you genuinely believe that then you’ll end up dead, and his sacrifice would’ve been for nothing.” The silence that follows is deafening. His footsteps ring heavy in your ears, moving closer and closer. “What did you just say?” The anger in his voice is apparent. You’ve never seen him like this before, a rage normally reserved for his enemies directed towards you.

You probably should’ve stopped, but you didn’t. “I said, if you truly believe that then you’re wasting the chance Cid gave you.” You look up at him unwavering, consequences be damned. He needed to hear this. Clive stood unmoving, an unknown emotion swirling in those vibrant blue eyes of his. “Be careful of what you say next.” And then it broke. The dam holding everything you held back before shattering into pieces and before you knew it you were awash with emotion. “You’re a bastard Clive, if you truly can’t see how you’re hurting the people around you by acting like a complete fucking idiot, then you don’t deserve his legacy or his name.” You wanted him to get mad, wanted him to feel the way you’ve felt for a while now. What happens next is a blur, limbs entangled and skin exposed, but based on how fast the front of your body met the desk, you met your goal. “Couldn’t just keep your mouth shut, fuck—,” He hisses above you, but you’re too far gone to care. You have been for a while, too lost in the feeling of his hands against your hips, his cock dragging against you deliciously. “Just had to keep testing me—” It’s almost embarrassing how easily you let him have his way with you. Your body completely under his control, every gasp of his name only serving to feed his ego, encouraging him to go faster, harder, more, more, more—

“Clive—!” “That’s right, say my fucking name—” If the squeaking of the old wooden desk he’s taken you on wasn’t already a sign of what was happening in the room, the shameless moans escaping your lips would be. “Let the entire hideaway know whose cock you’re begging for.”

You do, without any thought to how loud you may be.

The force of his thrusts are brutal against your backside, your body aching and yet you can’t stop moving, desperately trying to meet his every thrust. It’s hopeless, but he seems to enjoy your attempts at least, a wicked chuckle escaping him as he watches your body move on his own. “Is this what you wanted, hm? To be used like a pleasure girl?” His body is pressed against your back now, the full weight of him blanketed against you. Your breath catches in your throat, his lips whispering absolute filth into your ear. “Upset you couldn’t have me all to yourself? Don’t worry, I’m right here.” His tone is cruel, mocking. “I’ll make sure you never have to worry again.”

He doesn’t stop moving, how could he when you sound absolutely debauched below him, a picture perfect image of sin to be molded by his own hands. He fucks you just as he fights, ferocious, unyielding, unrelenting, finding every single one of your weaknesses and taking advantage of them until you cry out that it’s too much, that you can’t take it, and doesn’t give you a moment of reprieve. A glutton of your own making. He laughs, a sound so far separated from his normal self that you almost don’t recognize it as him. “Come now darling, you were ready to spit venom at me before, where’s all that fire gone?” He breathes unevenly, a hand moving to push your head further down. He’s taunting you, dangling your own shameful display in front of your very eyes. Even if you wanted to respond you couldn’t, the sound of your hips meeting, echoing through the room proved answer enough. “Clive—fuck—please ‘m sorry—” Your body is racked with shudders, whimpering when he runs a single hand down your spine, forcing you to arch even further and have him reach that spot inside you that has you seeing stars. “What was that? I don’t think I quite heard you.” He sneers from above. You mumble into the desk, unable to bring your head up to speak. “I’m sorry, please, can’t take it, too much, pleasepleaseplease—”

A hand around your throat silences you, his lips grazing against your ear once more. “Oh no, I don’t believe that for a second.”

He lets you go, only for that same hand to grab your face, fingers pressing against your cheeks. He forces your tear-rimmed eyes to gaze at him from below, a contrast to the sinister look in his own. “Can’t take it? Too much? I don’t think that’s true—” Another hard thrust has you keening, back arching, a fog of lust clouding your brain. “—I think you’re going to take everything I give and more.” He’s right of course, and you do, graciously. Your legs threaten to give out, shaking, barely holding on, and in an act of mercy he grabs your weakened limbs with a strong hand. Practically a rag doll at this point, he lays you onto the desk, legs wrapped around his body to bring him as close as possible. You can see him in this position, see the way his brows crease and furrow every time you clench onto his cock, the pleased grin that lingers when you grab onto his arms, seeking purchase. It’s filthy. Clive doesn’t think he’s seen anything more beautiful.

To watch his advisor fall apart at his hands, to drown in waves of pleasure begging for more, please, I need more—

It’s addicting, sadistic in ways he never thought himself capable of. He can’t get enough. A painful dance of give and take. He gives pleasure and takes your very sanity with it. He takes and takes until you’ve nothing left to give, until you’re a writhing mess of slurred words and half-mumbled promises. He can barely understand you at this point, your mind far away, but he doesn’t need to. He can understand your body well enough. “Clive, please—” You gasp, nails dragging deliciously against his back. You don’t have to speak, he knows what you want before you do. Without another second of hesitation his fingers move vigorously against your sensitive nub, and if he thought you were gone before the feeling of his deft hands working against your sex send you to new heights. The choked noise that escapes you is downright heavenly. “Gods above—!”

He’d be flattered if he wasn’t so busy fucking you into next week. Sweat clings onto your skin, and for a moment he conjures up an image of an angel, the sheen highlighting you in such a way you almost seem to glow. And then he watches your eyes roll, feels your pussy clench against his cock and you fall over the edge with his name on your lips like a prayer, and thinks to himself that you’re more of a devil than a saint.  Your breathing is ragged, completely spent, nearly delirious with desire.

But nearly is not enough for him.

So his hips still grind against you, and you’re far too weak to resist him, not that you would have in the first place. A give and take, and Clive was always a little greedy.

“We’re not done yet, my dear. Not by a long shot.”

[ghost-bison]

Some of my favourite Doctor Who fanfiction (mostly One Shots)

Drawing Nearer by Geat (Ninth Doctor/reader, Ninth Doctor & reader) on AO3

This author understands the beauty of Nine like no one else does. Like fuck. Wow. If you want something immersive and soft and beautiful this is the one. Actually, even if you don't, this is the one. You need it in your life believe me. And! If you're into the Tenth Doctor instead, or just want more of the amazing stuff after you finish the first one, there's a sequel to it, Like One of My French Girls?, which explores the same prompt (reader drawing a portrait of the Doctor) with a freshly regenerated Tenth Doctor. Which is really clever and witty so you should read it as well.

Immolation by songofdefiance (Donna Noble & Twelfth Doctor, feat. Bill Potts) on AO3

This one is what would happen if the writers were geniuses. It's a whole episode and holy shit it doesn't matter who your favorite characters are: it's for everyone. It's so smart I felt like an idiot reading it. (and yes the 1k words comment on there is me lmao don't judge me I was just very enthusiastic)

Children of the Time War series by illyriashade56 (Donna Noble & Tenth Doctor) on AO3

There's a reason I've read so many fics from this author. Had trouble picking a favorite, and still can't, but this one deserves whatever publicity I can give it. It's got it all. Holy crap. Hurt/Comfort, nice Donna whump, amazing descriptions, solid plot, and you know what's good? Once you're done reading this one, you can check her account and read another one cause they're all so good. I haven't read part three yet cause I'm keeping it for a perfect night (do y'all do this as well or is it just me? anyways lol, some fanfics are just so good that I need to shower, change my bed sheets, make a playlist and clean my room before reading them) (also the author is nice and I'm referring you to her account if you want to check more of her stuff: @illyriashade56)

Run (To A New Beginning) by Topaz_Eyes (Donna Noble/Tenth Doctor) on AO3

Just like the previous one, I had trouble picking just one from this author. The sex scenes dont seem to exist just out of horniness, they're really, really good, funny, witty and moving in a way I can't explain. The author has a way with words, it feels like you're in the story (so if you're horny for Donna Noble this is the one for you). And if you don't like explicit scenes, still check out the author, they've got some other amazing stuff! Like a bittersweet, sort of fix-it for Donna's ending (Journey's End).

The Awesome and Entirely True Tale of the Doctor's New Companion by TheBigCat (Donna Noble/Ninth Doctor) on AO3

Honestly this one slaps on all aspects and that's all I have to say. You need to read it. And when you have, you need to read it again.

Stress Fracture by Youth_of_Australia (Donna Noble & Twelfth Doctor) on AO3

I wasn't expecting to love this one so much when I clicked on it. The author specifically says they don't like Twelve and that's their bitter take on him. So you'd expect it to be Twelve slander, but actually, and I'm saying that as a big Twelve fan... it's surprisingly accurate. It's a mature, well-thought take, in the point of view of Donna, it bathes in the remains of TenDonna's friendship in bittersweet ways and it's beautiful and sad and nostalgic.

The Greeting-Card Aisle by twelvedimensional (Donna Noble & Ninth Doctor) on AO3

Pissed myself reading this one (all three times), cause it's so real. This author knows what they're doing. Take Nine and Donna, put them in a room together and that's certainly what's gonna happen. And believe me, the result is side-splitting.

Constructive Criticism by goldenrod (Donna Noble/Ninth Doctor) on AO3

A very sexy take on Donna and Nine as traveling companions. Nine only has eyes for Donna and her boobies (as he should). Oh, and it's sassy and hilarious.

Creature Fear by goodbye2pisces (Donna Noble/Tenth Doctor, Donna Noble & Tenth Doctor) on AO3

This one could very well be canon. I need it as an audio book. It's cute, funny, there's a bit of Donna/Ten whump, it can be read as platonic or romantic, and it has the most adorable little epilogue.

Think Outside the Box by TheAsexualofSpades (Tenth Doctor & kid!reader) on AO3

Basically if you love Ten but don't wanna fuck him, if you had a rough day and no one's around for a hug, if you grew up with emotionally distant parents, or if you simply need to have a good crybaby moment, this one's for you.

I'm On Fire by TheDarkMaterial (Donna Noble/River Song, Donna Noble & River Song) on AO3

Just like the last one, this one's kinda like a warm blanket. It's short, it's healing, it might make you cry nice little tears... also idc it's canon to me.

Appetites by EllyF (Donna Noble & Tenth Doctor) on whofic.com

This one is hard to read because it's very graphic on the Ten whump, but... it's fucking worth it. Trust. Me. Jfc. It's Hurt/Comfort so don't worry for yourself, but the angst is real, the gore is terrific, there are some horrible comparisons in there that will absolutely draw some tears, and the frustration will be real, but when you're done with it, you'll be like Wow. Wtf did I just read.

Only Human by Louiecat68 (Donna Noble/Tenth Doctor) on whofic.com

If you're looking for Donna whump, search no more: this is the place. This one's pretty graphic, pretty horrible, Donna's going through it in all possible ways and you'll want to wrap her in a blanket, feed her burgers and hot chocolate and burn the world down around her. Quite literally.

The Doctor is In by crystanagahori (Martha Jones & Tenth Doctor, Martha Jones & Donna Noble, Donna Noble/Tenth Doctor) on AO3

This one's funny and so sweet and you have no trouble reading it in the characters' voices cause it's faithful to all three of them. I don't read Martha fics usually, I only clicked cause I saw TenDonna, but even if you're like me, you'll have no problem reading it even when it focuses on Martha's life, believe me. The vibe's just immaculate.

Your Eyes Aren't Rivers by ClementineCrane & Multifandomfuckfest (Donna Noble/Tenth Doctor) on AO3

Another one where the vibe's immaculate! Basically one of the things that made me want to write a Doctor Who High School AU of my own. Ten and Donna are absolutely adorable in this.

I'm tagging some people who'd probably be interested in one/some of those:

@bobcatblahs

@madhatter0309

@doctordonnasstuff

@brisingr-sword

@peggysbundy

@doctor-donnaa

@daze-stole-ur-milk

@obsessedanddepressed

@doctordonna-protection-squad

@jellojellyroll

@basmathgirl

@illyriashade56

@ichangemyusertoomuch

@tatennant

@paradox-n-bedrock

@cdyssey

@love-in-the-time

@davidtennan-t

@rushinintolove

@whatsfourteenupto

@nat-20s

@thegingergoddess

@odakota-rose

If some of you read/have read one or several of those and wanna interact feel free to dm me :)

[themareverine]

— Until We Fall masterlist

worst!Logan x mutant!fem!OC

summary: DP&W AU. It's been God knows how many years after Logan's death in North Dakota—and this wouldn't be much of a story without a shiny new villain with a hot new plan, or someone to save the world. Well, maybe two someones. Ok, you win, three. But first, you have track down that said someone—the Wolverine. And who better to do that than the girl who found him the first time? Logan/OC

a/n: *knocks on glass, looks confused* hi, anyone still here? If so, welcome in! here's my DP& W AU. i have no idea what I'm doing. this is a sequel that i'm writing kinda-sorta at the same time as my main series, Mare & the Wolverine, and yes, please know, this is kinda self-insert-y. let me live, will you? reposting from my old account, OC is a mutant.

series masterlist | nav | | next

It's Called an Intro, Motherf******

Hi, welcome to the fuc–I mean freak, show. Don't want to blow the whole damn budget on the first 2.5 seconds of page time, right? Critics, good God–they're the worst. One sentence in and they'll judge the whole effin' book, hook line and sinker without even getting to the plot. Frickin' internet has made everyonea literary genius. Not.

ANYWAY—you're probably wondering what the eff I'm doing in the middle of this shitshow, huh? A story that isn't mine, hell—a story that isn't even technically writtenyet. That's a Fox thing. Or an MCU thing. Or a….thing, I guess? Dunno, this habit of timelines and then redoing and undoing them like a nun unbuckling a priests robes in a spittin' hurry after church is getting old—nobody really knows what the heck is going on. But, that's showbiz, right?

Rabbit trail, sorry. Frickin' brain. Anyway, yes–here. Ahem.

Well, really, we've got ourselves a Code Redpool (see what I did there?) with this one—someone trying to take over the world, rattle some cages, all that jazz. And if you didn't already know, such sticky little cumsucking messes requires a little bit more than a mercenary with a mouth. We already know I can't—don't—save the world. Despite what the box office may lend. It's above my paygrade, my hero tier. This rated R mothereffer hasn't gotten there yet, not on his own. Maybe another million or fifty.

Could be different this go around, though. Who effin' knows. All I know is that to save a world, to make a story, you need a couple of things—a smashin' budget, a whole helluva lot of copyright law, and a hero. An "anchor being," because Marvel has to be frickin' special. Sometimes two when the situation is Redpool, like it is. Maybe three, because I'll be EFFED if I'm not part of this one. Earnin' my stripes, going all Tony the Tiger and shit. You know the drill.

To help me out, I need the big guy. Yeah. Not Jesus, though it could be argued He's a factor, here. Very non denominational, very off script, very demure. Think more…yellow. Feral, as it were. Canadian. Yeah, dumbass—we need the Wolverine. The guy with the forks, the mutton chops from the 70s that were definitely a…choice. Logan. Yeah, him. Mr. Feral Forest Weasel himself.

And we'll probably need someone who can help us get to Logan, since he wouldn't know me from fresh effin' ADAM. If you saw Logan, you'll understand. Though it didn't happen exactly that way, because this is an AU—that fanfiction shit, you know. Sigh. We need someone who's tamed the beast, has clawed under all that adamantium and seen the hero where a trainwreck of a multiple-movies-gone-bad guy has stood.

A girl, genius. We need a girl. And lucky for you, delightful little fourth-wallians, I've got just the one.

Buckle up, mothereffer's—shit's about to get Wolverine-d.

Contents somewhere in the past, north dakota (in other words, the prologue) always sinners, rarely saints MEET THE OC

[navstuffs]

No Ordinary Love

Pairing: Leon x SuccubusFemale!Reader

Summary: Leon Kennedy is addicted to you.

Warnings: songfic, SMUT, touch-starved leon, needy!leon, reader does feed on him

Author's Notes: hello! this fanfic is so important to me due to the song that inspired me to write: No Ordinary Love by Sade. if you don't know Sade, please go and listen to her. it was super hard to edit this fanfic cause the song is so freaking good and i kept getting distracted. anyway, reader is a succubus, but she might not be a "proper" succubus, i will adapt for my writing needs. this fanfic might have a prequel (how they met, after re2 events) and a sequel, so we shall see. i hope you enjoy!

leon's masterlist

"I gave you all the love I got I gave you more than I could give Gave you love"

It is late when Leon Kennedy knocks on the familiar door after just landing from Spain. He is exhausted, with images of the last days tormenting his head. Ada. Ashley. Luis's death. As a loop, he sees their faces over and over again. He shakes his head, trying to focus on the door before him and the person who will open it. Some part of him knows he shouldn't be there, something deep inside his soul is telling him to leave, he doesn't deserve you, but when the door flies open, all thoughts inside his head disappear.

Everything else disappears around him.

There is no more Ada. No more Ashley, Luis, or even Leon S. Kennedy. Only you.

"I gave you all that I have inside And you took my love You took my love(...)"

You wear an oversized black shirt that goes just above your knees. Your beauty always seems to leave him breathless because no one should look this stunning. It is unfair. Leon forgets how to speak and how to act. He is just a rookie all over again. The hopeless rookie who met you years ago, desperate for some comfort, any comfort after Racoon City. Only you matter right now. Shit, he hasn't realized how much he missed you. Your touch. Your kisses. Your warmth. 

"Do you know what time it is, Kennedy?" You yawn, crossing your arms. Understandable, he woke you up in the middle of the night. You had all the right to be angry if you wanted; Leon feels like shit about it, though he couldn't wait until the morning to see you.

"Yes. May I come in?" His voice way is softer than his usual tone, but again, he is different when it comes to you. He is not the same person around you.

Your eyebrows arch, surprised, and Leon notices your nipples harden against your shirt. Perfect.

"I don't know. Can you?"

"When you came my way You brightened every day With your sweet smile(...)"

Please, let me in. Please, Leon begs mentally, and you smirk as if listening to his silent pleas. As if you could read his mind, knowing precisely how much he needs you.

"Please?" Leon murmurs, looking at your bare feet, not believing how fragile his voice sounds.

Not after all those things he had killed or everything he had gone through, he would still be clay in your hands. It didn't matter how many times he saved the world or how many he killed, you would still be the one who put Leon on his knees, this invisible force pulling him for you. 

Leon doesn't know what would happen to him if you deny him. He might die as a thirsty man who got close to the oasis but failed to drink the water. Or got so close to the sun and burned himself before touching it. All those thoughts rush through his mind before your feet finally, finally give him passage, and Leon thanks mentally for your benevolence.

Leon starts walking into your house before you stop him, hands on his chest. You stare at his expression for a second, and Leon's heart beats so fast that he finally feels like living again.

"You don't look well. Was it hard this time?"

Leon's mind flashes with everything that happened to him in the last couple of days. He doesn't have to say anything: you know Leon better than anyone. You nod as if reading his mind again, closing the door.

"I will take care of you. Come."

"Didn't I give you All that I've got to give, baby(...)"

Leon's mind drifts away. He would lie if he said he didn't like the taste you left on his body, his heart, on his soul. You were like a drug, the strongest he had ever tasted. 

"Leon."

Oh, how much he missed your moans. Your desperate sobs of his name as he pushed his cock inside of you, as a madman. There is nothing, nothing in this world that would separate you from him. 

"Leon."

"I keep trying for you There's nothing like you and I, baby(...)"

He doesn't know what happens when he is inside of you, a feeling he can't describe. It is different from everything he tried before: you delight him. You keep him there while you take away the pain, sadness, and anything he had inside. You amplify all his senses as you empty them. He watches as your boobs bounce and your eyes light with a strange glow, but he doesn't care. Leon only cares about being yours.  

He moans a lot, too: he begs. Begs for you not to leave him, begs you to stay with him forever, and implores you to love him. Tells you there is no else for him, except for you.

Leon can feel you are close, and he trembles under your power, trying to match your thrusts. All he can focus on is how tight you are squeezing him now, how delicious you look on top of him, how much he loves being yours, being loved by you.

"This is no ordinary love No ordinary love"

When Leon cums, his vision gets hazy. He holds your ass down rougher than he would want, so you don't move. He likes to feel his seed inside you, his eyes rolling to his head.

Leon Kennedy ceases to exist to exist again only because of you.

When you fall to his side, Leon can't move. He never moves after cumming inside of you, that feeling of you squeezing tight, taking all that he has. Leon feels your gentle hand taking his hair from his sweaty face, kissing his lips, and savoring it. He moans in your mouth, grabbing your hips with the bit of strength he still has. 

"Feeling better, Leon?" 

Leon nods, his big blue eyes begging him not to leave you. To stay with him forever. He is more exhausted than when he arrived, but he is grateful. You smile compassionately, the strange glow in your eyes slowly disappearing, laying your head on his chest. 

"I lo-"

"Shhh, Leon. You have to rest now. Everything will be okay in the morning. Sleep, my love."

As a command, you watch Leon Kennedy sink into darkness. You sigh, listening to his heartbeats, the sensation of satisfaction and fullness in your veins not enough to dismiss the tiny feeling of worry you had before. Or the happiness when you saw him. Or the feeling that he belongs to you and only you. There were too small to consider but not small enough to ignore. You shake your head and find yourself foolish as you make circles on Leon's chest. Now, after all the years, was not the time to get sentimentalist. You fall asleep, ignoring the sensation of comfort of being in Leon's arms.

"Keep trying for you Keep crying for you Keep lying for you Keep flying and I'm falling

And I'm falling"

[lightlycareless]

A bit of an explanation as to why Naomi turned to be quite... Not distant but not as welcoming as she was in the beginning with Naoya, her father.. :))))))

related work: prequel 1. prequel 2. sequel.

Warnings: Angst. Mentions of pregnancy and childbirth. Maybe Naoya failed as a husband and father?

Naomi didn't really know what it meant to be an older sister. It's one of those things that can't be described, simply experienced to get the full grasp of it. And yet, she was as excited as anyone else for the arrival of the babies.

Or more like anxious, for she's never seen you so stressed before.

“Why can't I go with mama?” She'd ask, your sister guiding her to the waiting room by the hand, unwittingly away from you. “Is she ok??”

“Yes, she is. She just needs help from the doctor to deliver your siblings!” Hinata explains, attempting to comfort her. “Aren't you excited? Soon, you'll be a nee-san, just like me.”

But Naomi couldn't care to think of such matters, not when an even bigger issue has yet to be dealt with.

“.... Why isn't papa with mama?” your daughter asks with clear sadness in her face. It's only the second time she sees a disruption to her routine, but she already doesn't like it, not one bit. “He's always here whenever mama feels bad….”

Hinata swallows, trying her best to not feed Naomi's sorrow, quickly turning disappointment, any further.

It's true what she said. Naoya always made sure to be available whenever you needed him, one way or the other. But this time… this time he couldn't, and for one simple decision he'd come to regret later.

“He's on his way here.” Is what your sister responds. “He shouldn't take much longer to arrive.”

For Naomi's sake, she hopes he does. Because Hinata doesn't think she could take any more of seeing the always cheerful and bubbly girl growing quiet at her father's absence, or frightened when hearing your screams once you finally went into labor.

Preparing Naomi for the whole ordeal of pregnancy was difficult, for there were things you feared she wouldn't be able to understand without being traumatized by them. This particular part was the one that worried you the most.

But even as upsetting as it was, hearing you in pain wouldn't be the thing that stuck to Naomi the rest of her life.

No. It would be the part of Naoya eventually arriving at the hospital, a few hours after the twins were born, higkihjti his failure to be with you, his daughter, and newborn children when they needed him most.

“I'm sorry, my love. I'm really, really sorry. You don't know how much I regret—”

“You were supposed to be here for their birth” Naomi manages to overhear, as well as the heartbreak in your voice, the same one she was experiencing for seeing her parents argue for the first time in her life. “You promised you would!”

“I know.” Naoya laments, voice shaky, seemingly at the brink of crying. “I would've never missed this moment, but the mission—”

“You also said you wouldn't take any missions.” You reiterate, hurt. “Why did you do it? Why did you have to go on a mission when I needed you the most?! You knew how scared I was, especially after what happened with Naomi!”

“It wasn't supposed to take this long. They told me it was going to be a quick thing, but it went on and they needed me…”

“I needed you more. We needed you more.”

“I'm sorry.”

Naomi doesn't hear anything else from that point forward, either because Naoya kept quiet, understanding the gravity of his actions while offering quiet endless apologies, the only thing he could do at that moment.

Or because Hinata became aware of what was going on and quickly isolated your daughter from the situation, she had already gone through enough up to that point, the last thing she needed was to end the day on a worse note.

Thankfully, that wouldn't be the case, because after meeting her baby brother and sister, all conflict seemed to disappear from her mind at that moment, focused instead on loving them unconditionally, though mostly excited for her new playmates and all the things she couldn't wait to do with them.

But when looking at her father, well…

Something inside Naomi changed that day.

💀

[americankimchi]

the way im sitting here thinking about how i wouldve rewritten veilguard in a way that's feasible wrt worldstates + actually shipping the game out in a realistic timeframe.... i'm fully sympathetic to the game devs because the thought of having to integrate three entire games of branching choices is a daunting prospect even from a narrative standpoint, nevermind figuring out how to express it in a game. there's no way i can think of where the end result would've been satisfactory to everyone, so i can understand from a purely practical standpoint why they did what they did for veilguard.

that being said:

i seriously disapprove of the way that everything done pre-veilguard was wiped off the face of thedas. like, sure, keeping track of minutia that has no bearing on the story beyond the moment itself is kind of stupid. like why would my rook care if the HoF reclaimed king cailan's armor. that makes no sense. but including the extremely pertinent world history defining events wouldn't have been too big a stretch, and honestly should have stayed in the game. it gives the world depth. it gives the world life. for example establishing whether the HoF survived via dark ritual vs. went down in a blaze of glory during the 5th blight, ritual be damned, seems kind of pertinent, especially in a game dealing with the consequences of the blight. i didn't expect or even want a cameo of the HoF, but perhaps a single nod via codex entry (or throwaway voice line from morrigan) to the game that kickstarted the ENTIRE franchise isn't outside the scope of expectations when crafting a sequel to it.

honestly i think the way they handled the hawke vs. corypheus situation in inquisition was the perfect solution to it. there was a significant portion of those who played da2 that didn't bother with the dlc prior to playing inquisition and were baffled when that connection was established in game. the 'default' state of inquisition was that hawke fought corypheus. why didn't they just do that for veilguard?

like yes, having a 'default' worldstate would've rankled feathers, but it's a significant improvement over not having one at ALL.

"but cindy," you might say, "we did have worldstates. we got to pick the inquisitor's appearance, what they did with the inquisition, who they romanced, and their intentions wrt resolving the solas situation!"

yes, that's true. and the only impact those choices had was a few lines of dialogue here and there. flavor text. pretty pathetic to reduce a 70+ hour game to just a few lines, but at least it was something. which is why i don't understand why they didn't do the same for dao and da2. it's stupid to expect a cameo from both the HoF or hawke and honestly if that happened i'd be pissed because it would be stealing the spotlight from rook in favor of shoehorning in nostalgia bait, but letters? codex entries? lines of dialogue? all fully doable. if they wanted to take down the keep, at least reinstate the 'default' worldstate where the dalish warden died in dao. we KNOW it exists. why not just reuse it?

ESPECIALLY since the main antagonist in veilguard is solas. he has so much guilt tied to the blight, the elves, and the veil. there's such a rich opportunity for story telling there and i genuinely cannot believe they didn't attempt to bring it up even once.

OR the conflict between the mages and the templars, a massive mainstay from all three previous games... just done away with? not even a footnote? there are some people who don't even know what a circle is, through no fault of their own! the game doesn't take the time to establish crucial pieces of world lore! and for what? do first-time players even know what a divine is? andraste? arlathan and tevinter and the bloody history therein?

they don't need to rehash EVERYTHING, but why on earth does the fourth entry in a video game series feel so disconnected from the previous three? if that was going to be the case, why not just set it even further in the future, after solas has already won and the veil is torn down and history matters only in that nobody remembers it anymore?

a post-apocalyptic version of thedas where the worldstates prior to solas tearing down the veil doesn't matter because that thedas doesn't exist anymore. that would've satisfied me. it would've been a bitter satisfaction, but i would've understood it. who cares who rules orlais if orlais no longer exists?

genuinely i don't understand why they made dragon age veilguard the way they did. it's like they tried to do a remake before the original version was even out. who was this game even made for? first-timers, obviously, as the game itself is enjoyable from a purely fantasy game perspective, but as the latest installment in a series that started in 2009? really? where did all that history go?

it's funny, because at the end of veilguard the only choice that really has any staying power is the one about solas. i can't think about any other decision made that would have any tangible effect on any sequels. on the world, i mean. characters are another story.

anyways, long story short: i hope they're a little more respectful to long-time fans in the next one. if there is a next one. i hope there is, but i won't hold my breath.

[leohtttbriar]

For the Reverse Unpopular Opinion meme: would love to give you the excuse to talk about voyager. (or if that's too easy, something you like about your least favorite star trek series??)

i love voyager. so so much. i tried to think if i love another star trek series i've seen any less than voyager, but i can't honestly say that i do? i love ds9, tos, discovery, and, yes, even snw. i am in the embarrassing position of admitting that i really just love star trek, in a mostly uncomplicated way.

of the things i love about voyager, the premise is probably the biggest one. i have rambled about this a lot already but: i think it confronts for the first time in star trek the inherent sadness associated with us studying the stars--and therefore the sadness that science-fiction writers mostly imagine their way out of, often as a way to speculate a time when this reality may be less real: the fact that space is big. it is too big. the fastest human beings have ever traveled, with their own bodies along for the ride, still isn't fast enough to get us to the moon in less than three days. light--the speed limit of the universe--needs a full eight minutes to get from the sun to us--a relatively close planet. space is enormous. we measure things that are "close" in light-years. everything is so spread out and that's just from the perspective of being inside a galaxy, which is actually crowded when compared to intergalactic space. everything is so far away and so long away and it feels impossible to think of getting anywhere in a time meaningful to us and our lifespans. which is in its own way heartbreaking.

and while in voyager they are clearly not alone in the way we feel we could be (and in practice are until we get the smallest sign that even non-intelligent life exists off our very own special rock) with all the aliens they meet and the fact that they are on a ship that can go faster than light, they are stranded and they are on their way back home and it will still take them a life-time. that's the reality of the story: that they will spend the rest of their lives trying to get back. and though i know they do get back much quicker than that, where i'm at in the beginning of season 3 that is still the reality of it. and this makes literally everything that happens in the show so fascinating--even if it's a plot or an idea that not only happened in another series but was done technically better in that series. every plot in voyager is colored by the tension between what the star trek ethos is as a whole--exploration and diversity and learning and humanity--all in an optimistic light--and what voyager is about--getting back home. it makes me think of the tension in the actual "voyagers," somewhere now in interstellar space, and the golden record with a map of earth's position etched onto it: spacecraft meant to never be returned but contained on them is a deep, deep hope that in some way they will be. this tension, to me, affects everything on the show.

but that's maybe too big an idea without specific examples from the series--i might ramble about that at another point lol

in the spirit of your question, i will say there is one star trek property that i don't particularly care for on the whole and that's the 2009 movie (and sequels). but i will also say what that movie did right and what i do love about it even if i don't love the movie as a whole is how it portrayed the high-tech poetics of star trek in a much more immediately understandable way than even the 90s shows could for a 21st century audience. the "apple-store" aesthetic is really an argument about how this is the future and it's sleek and stylish and humans have advanced in their engineering and scientific abilities. and among this high-tech argument is uhura front and center: she's very loudly and explicitly a linguist and she fits in this silicon-valley look despite the fact that nowadays things like linguistics are considered "soft sciences" in a general way and treated like that very specifically by the tech-industry now (the attitude being "there's an app for that"). but uhura makes a central discovery in one of her labs at the beginning of the movie which gives her and kirk a leg up on understanding the Movie Threat. the 2009 movie significantly raised her importance as a character, to the point that the "main trio" in those movies is, arguably, more kirk/spock/uhura than it is kirk/spock/mccoy---especially if you're going by the movie posters.

also they gave her this line:

UHURA: And did I not, on multiple occasions, demonstrate an exceptional aural sensitivity, and I quote, "an unparalleled ability to identify sonic anomalies in subspace transmissions tests?"

which is excellent world-building about communications-officers, if you care for that sort of thing. and it provides a starting point for an argument about how listening to a universe (famed quiet due to the lack of material through which sound can travel) is essential to understanding it---an idea that can be further extrapolated via sci-fi regarding things like: listening to gravitational waves if we record them right; or working on the idea that all matter is but a vibration in a quantum field; or, from a more cultural concern, the implication that it is absurd to think you can travel to an alien world and not bring someone with an "exceptional aural sensitivity" who can facilitate an exchange of language and, thereby, meaning.

[ashleyrowanthewriter]

Worries for the Future - Life and Times of Ashley the Crow (Crow HRT 2)

Previous/Next

*************

That day Arja visited me for a study date since we had some exams to retake. Nothing we shouldn’t handle. In fact we had to study history, which I would always get into once I started digging really deep. But this time it was obvious that I was not concentrating as much as I could. And Arja really noticed that I wasn’t in the best mood.

“What is going on, birdie?” Arja asked me.

“There’s just a lot on my mind,” I said. “I’m worried about our future. Whenever I read the news I feel like our progress is regressing.”

“What do you mean?” asked Arja.

“I just want people not to look down on us,” I said. “But there has been so much stuff going on recently. You know that scammer pretending to be a monkey recently?”

“Yeah, that was a strange story,” said Arja.

“But wouldn’t it have unforeseen consequences? Our country is already so otherkinphobic that somebody might see it as the last straw.”

“Maybe, but I bet people will forget it soon,” said Arja. “That’s just our little zeitgeist.”

“And have you heard about that scandal with that boxer at the World Pet Fair?” I asked about one more story.

“But she isn’t even otherkin,” said Arja.

“Exactly,” I said. “And if she isn’t then why people won’t even try to find out what dog they are protesting against?”

“Some people just don’t touch grass,” Arja said.

“I don’t think it’s even possible to encourage them to,” I said, sighing.

“I guess we should just focus on the positive, huh?” said Arja.

I tried finding a story I could mention that seemed fitting.

“Hey, there actually is an otherkin tortoise in the World Parapet Fair!” I remembered.

We both celebrated the revelation. But then I relapsed back into doomthoughts.

“I don't know whether I should cheer for her or against,” I said. “I want people to understand that at some point the difference disappears. And for that to happen we need to show that we are playing on equal footing. And does that mean we should just constantly lose?”

“Birdie…,” Arja tried to stop my rambling.

“It just feels rotten that this whole thing revolves so much around gambling and trying to keep things fair so that bets would be interesting…,” I continued.

“Birdie, what did you promise yourself recently?” Arja said suddenly.

I knew exactly what promise Arja was talking about. “That I shall stop worrying about stuff I can’t change with my voting rights.”

“People are always gonna get angry about sports,” said Arja. “About everything. Just enjoy the show and root for your favorites!”

“You know what? You may be right!” I said. “I am gonna root for the tutel!”

“Heck yeah! We’re gonna root for the tutel!” said Arja. “Anything else on your mind?”

There was one more thing worrying me. But that was a bit personal and I didn’t think it was worth sharing.

“Um… Yes, but… This is going to be a little bit silly…,” I said.

“That’s fine, go on,” said Arja.

“Well… There’s that remake of The Raven coming to the cinemas soon,” I said. “The original was kind of my egg cracker and I just really want the remake to be good. But the vox populi is already calling it bird crap.”

“Yeah, that was silly,” said Arja. “I guess there’s only one way to find out if people are right and that is to wait.”

“Hey, you wouldn’t want to get a bad sequel to How to Raise a Dragon, would you?” I noted how Arja might find herself in a situation similar to mine.

Arja opened her eyes more wide than I’d ever suspect her dragon body would let her. “True,” she said and we both laughed.

Maybe laughter is the best weapon against bad news from the world?

*************

Yeah, the recent stuff around the Olympics made me worried. Same with that remake of The Crow. But I guess sports and movies are about enjoying the show. So yeah, remember to cheer for Valentina Petrillo in the 400m T12 run!

[the-eeveekins]

Time to get some things off my chest I've been holding onto for a while, especially with regards to the Gundam community and G-Witch.

A solid chunk of the complaints I see about the show boil down to: person/place/thing wasn't as developed or given as much screentime as it would have if the show was 50 episodes, and it's potential was wasted as a result. And it just feels like a chunk of Gundam fans cannot get over a show NOT being 50 episodes, and that things can only reach their full potential if they are 50 episodes.

There's almost no adjustment of expectations for what the level of development, detail and screentime would be for a 24-25 episode length series. Just the belief that because it's less than the amount you'd find in a 50 episode series, it's automatically inferior.

And the way some people describe what they expected out of certain things, you can absolutely tell that they've been spoiled by the UC and don't have even remotely realistic expectations for a fresh AU without any sequels or supplemental content. The UC has been around for 40+ years with so much content to the point that nearly every minute detail has been explained and even over-explained. And certain fans have gotten so used to having every little detail spoonfed to them about a series that anything less is lacking or a plot hole.

Like, I seriously recall someone complaining that G-Witch didn't explain the treaty or agreement that banned the use of physical ammunition in space and that it was a plot hole! Or that the show didn't explain where Peil was getting it's doubles from? Or what characters like Guel and Shaddiq were like growing up?

Yes, G-Witch undercooked some of it's elements, probably because they expected to get more episodes than they did and added enough side and background content to give them 50 episodes worth of stuff if it got extended. But wanting the show to explore the detailed background of every side character, faction and location isn't something you're going to get in most AUs. Especially one that was only 25 episodes and more focused on telling a Shakespearean tale of two families than a large political war drama like most series.

And lastly, most of the complaints about the character development can be boiled down to one thing: most anime fans are used to having a character's thoughts and emotions spoonfed to them. G-Witch never once gets into the heads of it's characters and lets your hear their thoughts or feelings, leaving up to the viewer to interpret them based on their actions, reactions and knowledge of the character. And in a medium dominated by battle shounen, where characters constantly explain their every action and you constantly see every thought, I think a lot of people have gotten terrible at understanding character development that doesn't rely on it.

It's why there's so many complaints about Suletta not developing at all until late S2 despite developing a TON over the course of the show, because the show doesn't slap you in the face explaining it to you. Her personality doesn't go through a major change in the show because it doesn't need to, and S1 clearly shows her gaining more confidence and stuttering less around others as the season progresses. It's honestly not that subtle at all, the show just doesn't spend time explaining to you that it's happening, it just shows it happening. And that goes for a LOT of elements in the show people claim were too subtle or not explained well enough.

It's also why so many people claim Guel has the most development in the show, because his personality has to change drastically due to how awful he was (and tbf, he still ends the series as a pretty awful guy), and since it's such a major change, people claim he has the most developed character arc in the show because it's not subtle in any way.

It's not like G-Witch is a perfect show or free from criticism, but holy shit so many of the complaints I see boil down to unrealistic expectations of a two cour series or poor media comprehension/literacy. And that's not even getting into the people just hating on the show because they're sexist or homophobic.