#you might learn better ways of doing things

[theonottsbxtch]

I LOVED YOU FIRST | FC43

an: guys i’m so sorry for the atrocities i’m about to cause by posting this, i’m especially tagging @obxstiles to make sure they don’t miss it and that they cry muahaha there MAY be a part two to this

summary: for as long as she’s remembered she’s loved franco, wether those feelings were ever reciprocated she doesn’t know.

wc: 4.4k

She remembered the sound of wheels against gravel. Even as a kid, Franco was fast—kicking up dust and stones as he went, all edges and adrenaline. They grew up on the same street, a road that was more dust than pavement, cutting through a small town nobody had ever heard of, deep in the countryside of Argentina. Back then, he raced down that road on a beat-up go-kart that rattled and threatened to fall apart with every turn. But he didn’t care. Even at eight years old, Franco could talk of nothing but cars and speed and the shimmering, impossible promise of a life far from here.

She was the one who stood at the end of the road, cheering him on as he came barreling toward her, heart in her throat every time he cut it too close. She told herself that’s just what friends did—waited around to see the other one make it back in one piece. But there was more to it, even then. She’d never told him, of course. Franco had always been too focused on the next race, the next finish line, to notice much about her that wasn’t familiar. It was easier that way. They were friends. That was enough.

Years passed, and with them, his childhood kart became a racing simulator, then an actual car, then a series of wins that only proved what she’d always known—that Franco was going somewhere.

Last year, his parents sold their house so he could go further, could reach another level she couldn’t quite see. He moved in with her and her family when he wasn’t racing, and for a few months, it was as if they were kids again, laughing late at night, plotting his future as he spilled out every dream he’d ever had. That was the year she started imagining he might finally see her the way she saw him.

But he didn’t.

Instead, Franco saw everything she wasn’t: the girl from another world, polished and magnetic, with a face and laugh that gleamed like the trophies he’d already started to collect. She caught him, snared him in a way that didn’t even seem real.

It was this girl—her name slipped off his tongue so easily when he let it—who went to the big events with him, who stood beside him when photographers crowded around after his races, a reminder that he’d already begun to belong somewhere else. She wanted to hate her, this stranger who was everything she wasn’t, but what good would it do?

It was easy to tell herself she was Franco’s friend. His best friend. The one who’d been there since the beginning, the one who stayed up with him on those late nights when all his dreams felt heavy enough to drown him. She’d learned to wear it like armour—the friend, the constant, the steady hand on his shoulder when his voice cracked and his confidence faltered.

No one else knew the small things about him, the things that made him human. Like how he had a superstition about not putting on his helmet until the very last second before a race. Or that his favorite thing in the world was the sound of tires on wet pavement, a soft hiss of rain and speed. Or that he used to dream of buying back the house his parents sold and giving them something better.

The nights she couldn’t sleep, she’d replay those memories to herself, like scenes from a film she’d seen too many times. They were pieces of a person she’d built up in her mind so completely, so painstakingly, that she sometimes forgot he wasn’t hers. Not really.

Now, Franco was leaving again, but this time it was different. The call had come last night, and she’d been there when he answered it, watching the way his face shifted, lit up with something she hadn’t seen since they were kids. He’d been invited to join a Formula 1 team—a chance to race against the best, a dream finally realised.

And she’d been the first person he told. “I’m in,” Franco had whispered to her after he hung up, his voice hoarse with disbelief. “I’m actually in.”

He’d pulled her into a hug, and for a fleeting moment, she let herself believe this moment was for her too—that she was a part of the dream. But when he finally let go, she could already feel him slipping away, his mind racing miles ahead, far beyond anything she could reach.

And now here they were, standing on the same dusty road they’d grown up on, only this time the road was empty. She could almost see his silhouette against the horizon, an outline that belonged to no one, not even her.

“So… this is it, huh?” she murmured, trying to keep her voice steady, her hands stuffed deep into her jacket pockets. She knew this was her job now: to be strong, supportive, even as she felt her chest tightening with everything she’d left unsaid.

Franco glanced over at her and smiled, that careless, easy grin she’d fallen in love with a thousand times. “Yeah. This is it.”

There was a part of her that wanted to say something, to tell him what it felt like to lose him, to have spent all these years beside him only to watch him walk away. But she didn’t, couldn’t. Because he needed her to be his friend, his rock. And that’s exactly what she would be, until the moment he disappeared from sight.

“You’ll be amazing out there,” she said softly, swallowing hard against the ache in her throat.

“Thanks,” Franco replied, his gaze drifting to the horizon, to whatever was waiting for him. He didn’t see her watching him, didn’t notice the way she tried to memorise every detail of his face, the way she gripped the fabric of her jacket so tightly her knuckles turned white.

Because that’s what she was: the person who stayed behind, the person who would cheer for him no matter how far he went, even if it took him far beyond her reach.

His first race was in Monza.

And Franco had made sure she’d be there.

The roar of engines echoed across Monza, the air thick with the metallic scent of fuel and adrenaline. She stood just outside the paddock, watching the mechanics scurry between cars, drivers in their fireproof suits weaving through a sea of engineers and cameras. It was Franco’s first Formula 1 race, the one he’d been chasing since the days they’d spent on that dusty street back home. He’d called her a week ago, saying he’d arranged for her ticket, that she had to be there, that it wouldn’t feel right without her.

She glanced down at her pass, fumbling with it between her fingers, her eyes darting over the crowds, wondering if she’d see him. But instead, she saw her—Franco’s girlfriend, standing just a few paces away, a beacon in the busy paddock with her polished, perfect smile.

She thought about turning around, slipping into the crowd where she could cheer Franco on from a distance, as she’d always done. But then Franco’s girlfriend caught her eye, waved her over with an easy, welcoming smile, and suddenly it was too late.

“Hi! You’re Franco’s best friend, no?” she said brightly, as if she’d been waiting for this meeting. “Franco’s told me all about you.”

She managed a smile, trying not to let her surprise show. “Nice to meet you,” she replied, her voice steady but her heart churning. This girl looked so effortlessly perfect—too perfect, really. She wanted to find something in her to resent, a crack, a flaw, some hint that would make her presence easier to bear. But the girl’s smile was warm, even gentle, and there wasn’t a hint of cruelty behind her eyes.

“You know,” she continued, turning to look at the track where the cars were being readied. “Franco always talks about how you’ve been there from the start. He says he wouldn’t be here without you.”

It was a sentiment she’d waited years to hear, but hearing it now, coming from someone else, made it feel empty, hollow. She nodded politely. “He’s worked so hard for this. I just… wanted to support him however I could.”

The girl looked at her, a spark of admiration in her eyes. “That’s really special. I think it means a lot to him, having someone who’s known him for so long.” She hesitated, her fingers twisting a ring on her hand. “I think he’s planning to introduce me to his family soon.”

A prickle of something sharp and painful settled in her chest. She managed to keep her face composed, even as the words sank in. “That’s great,” she said, injecting her voice with encouragement. “That sounds really important to him.”

The girl smiled, her gaze drifting as if she could see the future taking shape right in front of her. “Yeah… he said he wanted to wait until we’d been together for a year. He’s so thoughtful like that, you know? He really wants things to be right before introducing me to his family.” She looked at her, a touch of gratitude in her expression. “I think he got that from you—from seeing how much his family means to you.”

It was a kind thing to say, too kind. She wanted to hate her for it, but she couldn’t. There was nothing false about the way this girl looked at her, no jealousy or possessiveness. She was just… nice. The kind of nice that made her ache with the unfairness of it all, because it made it impossible to hate her, even though she desperately wanted to.

“Well, his family will love you,” she said, meaning it even as the words felt like they were tearing something fragile inside her. “He deserves to be happy.”

The girl gave her a soft, almost sympathetic smile, a smile that made her wonder if maybe she already knew—if she could see right through her, if she understood the look in her eyes, the one she tried so hard to hide.

As the engines started up in the distance, the girl reached out and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “Thank you,” she said, her voice warm. “For being there for him, for being his friend. I can tell he’s lucky to have you in his life.”

She returned the smile, feeling a heaviness settle deep within her. Franco was lucky, that was true—but not in the way she’d once dreamed he might be. He had everything now: the career, the future, the love of a woman who deserved him in ways she never could.

And as the cars roared to life on the track, she stood there beside his girlfriend, feeling like a silent ghost on the edges of his new world. She would cheer for him, just as she always had, but now she knew exactly where she stood—at a distance, a quiet fixture in his past, cheering him on from the shadows as he sped toward a future that had no place for her.

The race had ended hours ago, and the hotel was hushed, the lights dimmed in the halls. She was alone in her room, her suitcase half-packed, clothes folded neatly on the bed. She’d changed her flight back to Argentina; she would be gone by morning.

The evening had been a whirlwind—Franco finishing in P12 on his debut race, his crew and his girlfriend embracing him, his face beaming in a way she’d only ever dreamed of seeing up close. She’d stood in the background, clapping politely, just another face in the crowd, happy for him but feeling her heart splinter with each cheer.

A quiet knock broke her thoughts. She looked up, heart catching in her throat. Franco was standing in the doorway, his face lit with a warm smile.

“Hey,” he said, stepping inside, his hands in his pockets. “I was hoping you’d still be up.”

“Yeah, just… packing,” she murmured, glancing at the clothes on her bed. “I’ve got an early flight back.”

He frowned, like he hadn’t expected her to be leaving so soon. “I thought you’d stay a bit longer,” he said, a hint of disappointment in his voice. “It meant a lot to me that you were here, you know. I’m not sure I could have done it without you.”

She swallowed, trying to muster up a smile. “I’m proud of you, Fran. Really. You deserve all of this.”

He gave a modest shrug, his usual humility shining through. “It’s crazy, right? Like, it still doesn’t feel real.”

She nodded, unsure of what to say next, her hands clenching as she watched him, the words fighting to break free. But before she could speak, he went on, his face lighting up with excitement.

“Oh—and I wanted to tell you. Over the summer break, I’m planning to bring my girlfriend—” he gestured to the wall, where his girlfriend was probably just sitting in their shared room—“back to Argentina. She’s going to meet my family. I think they’ll love her.”

The words hit her like a punch to the gut. She felt herself unraveling, her heart breaking open. She couldn’t hold it in any longer.

“Why her?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Franco blinked, looking at her, startled. “What do you mean?”

“Why her, Franco?” She repeated, her voice trembling, louder this time. “Why not me? What is it about me that you don’t find appealing? Am I too loud? Too… different? Do I not fit into your world somehow?” Her voice cracked, the weight of her words finally spilling out. “What is it about me that you don’t love, that you love about her?”

For a moment, he just stared, taken aback, as if he was seeing her for the first time, really seeing her. But his eyes were filled with confusion, like he was trying to make sense of what she was saying.

“Wait—” he started, his voice halting, uncertain. “I… I didn’t know you felt—”

She cut him off, her voice fierce, raw. “I loved you first, Franco.”

He went silent, the words settling between them like stones in water, sinking deeper and deeper.

“What?” he whispered, his voice almost as quiet as hers had been.

“I loved you first,” she repeated, her voice shaking. She could feel the tears gathering, but she didn’t want to cry, not now, not here. “Since we were kids, since you were that crazy kid racing down dirt roads, I loved you. I’ve been there every step, every race, every victory, every failure. I was the one who held your dreams when they felt too heavy to carry. I loved you first.”

She watched him, waiting, hoping for some sign of understanding, some glimmer of the love she’d imagined so many times. But his eyes were wide with shock, his face torn between pity and discomfort.

He shook his head slowly, the words seeming to catch in his throat before he finally managed to say them. “But… I love her.”

The words were a knife, sharp and relentless, cutting through the last fragments of hope she’d held on to.

She let out a hollow, broken laugh, her vision blurring as she looked away, unable to meet his eyes. “I know,” she whispered. “I know you do.” She took a shaky breath, her voice trembling with a rawness she couldn’t contain. “But it doesn’t make it hurt any less.”

For a moment, they stood there in silence, the weight of years pressing down between them. She could see the guilt etched into his expression, his mouth opening as if he wanted to say something to make it better. But there was nothing he could say—nothing that could change the reality that he had chosen someone else, someone who wasn’t her.

“I never meant to… I didn’t want to hurt you,” he said softly, reaching out as if to comfort her, but she stepped back, her arms wrapping around herself protectively.

“It’s fine,” she said, forcing the words out, feeling them scrape against her throat. “I… I just needed you to know. I needed you to know that I was here, that I’ve always been here. But now…” She trailed off, her voice breaking, the words she’d held for so long finally running dry.

She looked at him one last time, memorising the shape of his face, the boy she had loved and lost long before he ever realised. Then sat back down on the floor and continued packing, folding each piece of clothing and putting it away in silence, each one a silent goodbye.

When she noticed he still hadn’t left, that he was just watching him, she looked up at him. “I hope she makes you happy, Franco,” she whispered, her voice barely a breath. “Really. I hope she gives you everything you’ve ever dreamed of.”

She looked back down not wanting to catch Franco’s look of pity and closed her suitcase as he walked out of her room.

Walking out of her life for what felt like forever.

It was the peak of summer, the air heavy with heat and the scents of wildflowers and sun-baked earth drifting through the open kitchen window. She was sitting at the table, picking absently at a bowl of sliced fruit, half-listening as her mother hummed while tidying up, when her mother paused and gave her a look she couldn’t quite decipher.

“I almost forgot to mention,” her mother said, wiping her hands on a towel, “Franco’s coming back to town soon. Said he’ll be here next week with his girlfriend, so they can meet his family.”

She looked down, letting the words sink in, feeling a familiar tightness bloom in her chest. She hadn’t spoken to Franco in weeks. Not since that night in Monza. Not since she’d finally let herself say all the things she’d bottled up for years, only to walk away feeling like she’d left a part of herself behind.

“Oh,” she murmured, keeping her tone as light as she could. “That’s… that’s good. His parents will be thrilled to meet her.”

Her mother looked at her carefully, her gaze soft but probing, as if she could sense the ache that lingered beneath her daughter’s casual words. “I thought maybe you’d be excited too,” her mother ventured, her voice gentle. “It’s been a long time since you’ve seen him.”

She forced a small smile, looking down at her hands as she fiddled with her napkin. “Actually, I was thinking about going to Buenos Aires for a bit. Just a week or two with Tía Blanca. I’ve been meaning to go see her.”

Her mother tilted her head, her expression somewhere between sympathy and exasperation. “You can’t keep running from this, mi amor,” she said, her voice tender but firm.

Her shoulders tensed, and for a moment, she didn’t know what to say. She knew her mother was right; every time she thought about seeing Franco, the old wound seemed to ache again, still raw, still fresh, no matter how many miles or weeks lay between them. But she wasn’t ready to face him yet. Not when the sight of him with someone else would only reopen everything she’d been trying so hard to let go of.

“I know I can’t keep running,” she said finally, her voice barely a whisper, her fingers twisting the napkin in her lap. “But I can now. And I can cope with that.”

Her mother sighed softly, reaching out to place a warm hand over hers. “Mi amor, one day, you’re going to have to stop protecting yourself from the things that hurt you. It’s the only way to truly move forward.”

She nodded, her throat tight, unable to meet her mother’s eyes. She knew her mother was right. But all she could think of was that moment in Monza, the echo of Franco’s words—But I love her. Words that still stung like salt on an open wound, even now.

“Maybe one day,” she whispered, more to herself than to her mother. But for now, Buenos Aires felt like the safest place to be—far from the memories, far from the impossible hope she still carried in her heart.

Her mother squeezed her hand gently before letting go, her silence filled with understanding. “Then go,” she said, with a small, knowing smile. “But you’ll know when it’s time to come home.”

And as she sat there, her heart heavy with everything she couldn’t say, she only hoped her mother was right.

A few days later, everything was sorted and she was ready to go to her aunt’s place.

She swung her bag over her shoulder, taking a deep breath as she stepped out of the house, the warm morning sun casting long shadows across the familiar dirt road. She was just two steps away from the car when she spotted it—Franco’s car, parked at the edge of the drive.

Her heart lurched, her mind scrambling, and she muttered under her breath, “No, no, no… please, not now.” She moved quickly toward her own car, fumbling for her keys as if speed alone could make her invisible. But before she could open the door, she heard his voice behind her.

“Oye, there you are!” he called, a wide, relieved smile on his face as he jogged over, his voice bright with the kind of joy she hadn’t heard from him in years. “I was hoping I’d run into you before you left. It’s been too long.”

She barely managed to keep her face neutral, clutching her bag as if it could shield her. “Yeah, well, I’ve got to get on the road. Don’t want to get stuck in traffic,” she said, opening the boot to toss her bag inside. She avoided looking at him, focusing on the small tasks—closing the boot, brushing off her hands, reaching for the door.

He took a step closer, his hand resting on the car door as if to keep her from leaving. “I’ve missed you,” he said, his tone softening. “You… you didn’t answer my calls after Monza. I didn’t know if… I just wanted to see you.”

She swallowed hard, glancing away as she forced herself to stay calm, the last words she wanted to hear sitting heavy between them. “That’s great, Franco,” she said, barely meeting his gaze, her words quick and mechanical. “But I really should get going.”

“Wait—” He looked at her, his expression slipping from surprise to concern. “Can we talk? Please?”

But she was already climbing into the car, her hands gripping the steering wheel as she turned the ignition. She couldn’t bear to stay, couldn’t bear to let him see her break again. “Take care, Franco,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper as she closed the door.

Before he could say another word, she pulled out, the tires kicking up dust as she drove away. In the rearview mirror, she saw him standing in the drive, watching her go, his face a mix of confusion and something close to sadness. She looked away, swallowing the lump in her throat as she focused on the road ahead.

But the further she drove, the harder it became to ignore the weight of all the memories tied to each familiar street and turn. Every signpost, every curve of the road reminded her of him—their childhood spent racing bikes and kicking up dust, lazy afternoons wandering these streets, dreaming of the future he was now living.

Tears blurred her vision as she drove, the memories rushing in like floodwaters, filling her mind with images she’d tried so hard to push aside: Franco at fourteen, laughing as he beat her in yet another race down the hill; Franco, younger still, sharing a quiet moment in the field just beyond town, his eyes bright with the dreams they’d both carried.

She wiped at her eyes, her heart aching as each memory pulled her further into the past, a past where they’d been inseparable, a past where she hadn’t yet realised what loving him truly meant. She could almost hear his laughter, feel his presence beside her, as if he were still the boy she’d known, before life had pulled them down different paths.

By the time she reached her aunt’s building in Buenos Aires, the weight of the drive had started to lift, the city’s pulse a welcome distraction from the quiet countryside. She parked and took a moment to gather herself, feeling the ache from earlier settle into something softer, something that no longer felt as urgent or raw.

Just as she opened the car door, a familiar voice called out.

“¡Mira! Is that really you?”

She looked up, startled, and felt her heart lift slightly. Standing by the curb was Angelo, an old friend from summers in the city. He had the same easy smile, his hair a little longer, his build a little broader, but his presence felt exactly as she remembered—warm and solid.

“Angelo!” She smiled, the weight on her shoulders easing just a little more.

He walked over, giving her a friendly hug before reaching into the car to help with her bag. “Let me help. You’re here for a visit?”

“Just two weeks,” she replied, trying to keep her voice steady as she glanced up at the familiar apartment building, a place that held a lifetime of summers, laughter, and memories untouched by the pain she’d left behind.

“Well, then,” he said, grinning as he hefted her bag easily, “we’ve got time to catch up.” His tone was light, but there was something else in his eyes, a quiet warmth that made her feel unexpectedly hopeful.

She followed him up the steps, comforted by his familiarity and the steady, unhurried way he moved, like he knew every corner of this building as well as she did. As they reached her aunt’s door, she felt her pulse slow, steadied by his presence.

The door opened before they could knock, her aunt’s familiar face breaking into a radiant smile. “There you are, mi niña!” She hugged her tightly, then turned to Angelo with a knowing smile. “And look who brought you all the way to the door! Angelo, you’re a sweetheart.”

He grinned, shrugging. “Anything for your family, señora.”

They all laughed, and for the first time in months, she felt a genuine ease settle over her, as if she’d left more than just a town behind—she’d left the weight of everything she’d been carrying.

As she glanced between her aunt and Angelo, the ache that had gripped her chest all day faded. The streets of Buenos Aires were bright outside the door, warm and humming with life. She breathed it in, feeling herself begin to let go of everything that had haunted her on that long drive.

Because maybe now that she was here, she could forget Franco.

to be continued…?

[reshinless]

hi!!! i hope ur doing well>< can u do kinich with a shy s/o but get reaaally freaky in bed?

art creds: @ sumi_noth on x

warnings: p in v sex, anal penetration, afab!reader (no specified gender), consent king kinich, freaky ass reader, handcuff usage, blindfold usage, dirty talk kind of, but mostly praise, oral(?, eating you out),

he didn't expect your interests to be... different from your actions, or at least in public. your shy grasps on his arm if ever you were anxious, or the habit of standing in front of you to intimidate

or the flushed expression that danced across your cheeks when he complimented you. it could be the arm that grasped your waist when he knew you were uncomfortable.

well, whatever it was, it was cute in its own way.

but looking at you and comparing to then—are you really the same person...? maybe you have a secret twin!

"n- nngh! kin— pleasef- I wan' it s'bad!" you whined, feeling him strike your insides for the umpteenth time. he really didn't mind but he could see how shaky your legs were.

"y'sure? you're trembling, baby." "mmn, need more, please?"

he simply tilted his head, you looked tired. he doesn't care too much about himself since his stamina sustains for very long. but yours didn't.

he swore this little thing of yours lasted a week each month. always telling him how bad you needed him with those pleading eyes. he couldn't say no, that'd be mean!

"whatever you want, sweetheart."

he'd give you the world if possible, but he cares for your safety, so he does end up not going through with your feralness in bed. no matter how cute your whining and begging might be- he doesn't want to take advantage of the fact that you want all of him more than just seven rounds.

one time you asked him to cuff you to the bed, and he asked more than just five times. you.. want him to use his elemental skill to tie you to the bed post? is that really safe?

well, he wouldn't complain too much, pulling on the vine line like a leash if he just decided on cuffing them behind you, or grasping your hair while you take him from behind.

as long as you're okay with it ('till he notices you're visibly tired). he learns to know your limits as well, no more how freaky you are. cause he isn't with you for the sake of sex, but for you yourself.

these moments with you were just a bonus. and in which he very much treasured. oh well, back to the blurb of him slamming you from behind.

he likes positions where he sees your face better. the one he usually sees hiding in the strands of your hair, or in the softness of your palms. he promises he doesn't have a corruption kink or whatever but damn he loved the way your expression would distort to something so naughty. fuck, he needed this as much as you did.

the sounds he long sought after for back when you both weren't even together yet, he didn't want to admit- but he did fantasize this. how the lewd mewls would spill like a river from the beauty and softness of your mouth.

he couldn't help but groan right into the shell of your ear. instinctively his mouth moves, to praise you of course.

"doin' s'fuckin well for me sweetheart, just keep taking me in like that yeah?"

you could feel yourself clench at the very end of his sentence. fuck you didn't know praise could feel this good, his movements matched with the quick, lusty grunts he let out.

even when he placed the blindfold onto your pretty head. he missed your pretty eyes, the way they'd look at him with a pleading look. he could barely see how your eyebrows furrowed.

that's alright, he liked how you seemed so vulnerable, not knowing where to place your hands, and you can't predict what he'd do, or where his touch would land next (which was your entrance)

placing his lips onto the soft folds, licking you up and down with tease. hearing you moan and sob, asking him to stop edging and get to the point, but he doesn't really like when you're being a little bratty.

"take what i give you, or i'll leave you like this, 'kay?"

and you couldn't do anything but nod. his cold words sent shivers down your spine, combined with the kitty licks to your clit, the coldness of his ungloved palms that spread your legs apart, squeezing them every now and then.

really loves the way you taste though, loves how addicting it can get. you're the only drug he'd ever take.

once he's done "punishing" you, he goes right back to being the sloppy eater he is. his mouth basically attached itself to your soppy entrance.

doesn't matter if you're cumming or not—he laps everything up like a homeless man who's got food for the first time in forever.

he doesn't know what it is- maybe it's the scent, or is it truly the taste? maybe it could be the way it looks? or maybe how it feels? he doesn't get why he wants your essence so bad, but whatever magic it has he hopes it'll last him lifetimes (or at least last you a good orgasm)

overall is just "whatever you want, my love" and makes sure you get the best out of it! :)

[meameagirl]

Injury! -- Joe Burrow

Summary: Joe was away for a game and you couldn't go as he was gone you got hurt. You was freaking out but also worry to tell Joe as he at a game.

Word Count: 744

Slightly injury you, head injury, little blood , just Joe worry and fluffy

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Joe was at an away game and You had gone to a store to buy some decorations for their apartment. You just came back and set the bags on the table. You knew it was smart to wait for Joe to come home but You didn't want to wait another whole day for him to return. You start taking all the things you got and lay it out on the table. It was a little early to start putting Christmas things out but You couldn't help yourself.

You went to the garage to look for some nails and Joe’s hammer he kept here. Soon You find the hammer and nails and go back to the kitchen. You grab the Christmas Gnome and walk to the living room to put the nail in the wall and hang them up. Soon you walk back in the kitchen and grab the christmas garland and you glaze at the cabinet. “I should wait for him.” You told yourself but you being stubborn You don't listen.

You take your shoes off and only have socks on and climb on the counter and stand up on it. You look down. “Not too high I should be fine.” You said to yourself. You start putting the nail in the wall and grab the garland. You get on your tiptoes to hook the garland on the nail. When your foot slips off and you crash onto the floor head hitting the edge of the counter. You lightly groan, touch your head feeling wetness on your hand.

You start looking around feeling dizzy, slowly grab the counter to help you stand up. You grabbed a rag and got it wet with cold water. Press it on your head. You stay leaning on the counter with the rag on your head when your phone rings. You slowly dig it out your pocket seeing it was Jeo who was calling. “I swear he has super power and calls at the wrong time.” You softled said as you answered it.

You hear his voice didn't sound cheerful, must have had a bad game. “After that game I need your voice.” You swallow. He started to explain what happened but it was making your head hurt more so  you cut him off. “I did something stupid.” It got quiet on his end. Soon he says “What you did Y/N” You look up at the half hanging garland. “Might try to hang some garland in the kitchen and slip and hit my head.” You talk slowly. 

It got quiet again but you can hear he was getting up from the hotel bed. You hear him picking things up. Maybe his bag. “Joe?” Joe signs. “Didn't I tell you if you wanna hang something make sure I was home. So I can help so we can skip the whole injury park Y/N. Look, I'm on my way home. Clearly your stubborn ass doesn't understand when I talk. You're gonna listen now. Forget the damn garland and lay down just not flat.i be there in an hour or so.” You nodded even if he can’t see it. He hung up after.

This is why you hated that he called right after you fell. Were you gonna tell him no, maybe tomorrow when he was home. But that was so out of the bag. You knew it was better to listen to him and go lay down. You slowly walk to the couch and lay down on it. The rag lay on your head.

About an hour or two you hear the front getting unlocked and open. You hear his footsteps walk in. He puts his bag down and he walks over kneeling by the couch. He moved the rag. “Hey there, stubborn girl that I love.” You just groan and sit up. He helps you sit up, putting his hand on your back. “How your head darling” He asks as you lean your head on his shoulder. “Dizzy stops and the pain is not too bad.” Joe kisses your head lightly. “Maybe you learn your lesson and let me do the hanging when it comes to Christmas. Rather not have my girlfriend hurt over Christmas crap.” His arm wraps around you as you mumbles “good idea.” you snuggle against his body. And he gives you another kiss on your head. Getting hurt might have been a good thing, one Joe came home early and second the cuddles.

[thatnonameuser]

what type of yandere do you think skully would be? ...or would he be a darling 😈😈🔥🔥

So far because of the AU, I'm making him a yandere. But.. * Insert Crowley Voice Here *  For I am gracious, I’ll give you both. 

Skully is from a time where yandere behaviors weren’t exactly accepted. At that point, it was during the halfway point between acceptable and a criminal act. At that point in time, the courtship was built on affection and darlings during that time had the right to reject their yanderes. (Not without consequences, but that’s a story for another time.) 

As a result, Skully is a gentleman yandere. Polite, affectionate and obsessive, with the same amount of love he has for Halloween. 

As canon Skully is, he’s just looking for excuses to kiss you. But he slowly goes from kissing your hand like a suave gentleman, to kissing your cheek, your lips, neck, trying to make out with you, et cetera. The longer you’re around him, the less he’ll be able to restrain his originally well-tamed urges. 

In a way, he’s also a delusional yandere. Because of his affection, he perceives everything he’ll do as an act of love. Kidnapping you is just the start of a date, gifts with dubious and bloody history are acts of love, drugging and killing people is just removing possible threats to your relationship. 

One thing that’s in your favor though, Skully isn’t a big fan of change. And he’s still adjusting to the fact that all the yanderes of the present are so okay with things that once got people imprisoned or executed back in the day. So he’ll try to save you from them. If you end up staying with him, he’ll be very relaxed as a yandere, allowing you a lot of freedom. 

(One funny thought I had was all the boys accidentally accelerating the acceptance of yandere behaviors with how they behave towards you during the trip and Skully learning from it.)

Skully, as a darling, is much more relaxed about the yandere thing. Same rules about darling’s being able to reject yanderes in his day still apply. 

So his original resistance to deviate from his Halloween traditions is amplified by the strangeness of the other yanderes, because how could they be so calm with something so horrible, AND change the sanctity of Halloween?

If MC is also a darling, then let her breathe a sigh of relief. With how Skully gently kidnaps her, she might be chill and miss the friendship between the two when she inevitably has to leave.  

If MC is a yandere, then well that kidnapping may be a little rough. Specifically, they might be turned into a pumpkin after all, for Skully to feel safe enough to perform the rest of his plan.

(Regardless of which MC is, then Skully will end up doing the opposite of that first thought. In fact, Skully will end up delaying the acceptance of yandere behavior with the spread of the new and better Halloween.)

I hope this was good. I wasn't really sure about it for a bit.

[drawnfamiliarfaces]

How do Jake and June get along?

its... complicated? <;D

They are friends, don't get me wrong, but their friendship is definitely one of the more bumpier ones amongst the group.

There are some aspects of their relationship that are heavily influenced by some plot points of this AU that I dont want to reveal rn, but I can explain some other reasons why its complicated in broader strokes for now (in a bit of yapping under cut) but the short answer is probably that they get along maybe just a little better than Jenny and Ben. xD

As you know, both of their shows are very similar in many aspects, but also different in others and those differences are actually what makes those two clash more often than not.

Despite both being of magical world, and both being chosen as respective guardians of it - their positions in it are different.

Jun, was chosen by Magical Elders, or basically be magic itself, as Te Xuan Zhe, while she was very young. And while she comes from magical line, its clearly that aside of that she is human. Also, her position is not something she can just abandon, not until a suitable replacement can be chosen at least, and that can take decades until she or her brothers (or maybe other relatives) have more descendants. So she more or less has no choice at being Te Xuan Zhe, and while she doesn't necessarily resent the position itself, she really doesn't like all the restrictions that come with it.

Jake, on the other hand, comes from a line of magical creatures. And yes, not everyone can manifest this hidden magical part of them, like his mother, but they are still considered as part of magical community, since they are still aware of it (unlike Jake's dad who is human). So, while Jake awakened his draconic abilities that are inherently part of him now, his position as protector of New York/USA - is not inherent. We saw him train for that position, we saw Hailey being considered for it, we saw him lose it too! And while, yes the Dragon Council apparently has the power to seal someone's dragon side away if they fire them from that position, but it still doesn't inherently change the fact that he is from dragon line.

The reason why I brought up this seemingly not big of a difference between their positions in the magical community - is the freedom of choice that Jake has and Jun lacks. If it comes to it, Jake can resign from his position as American Dragon, but it would not mean that he would stop being a dragon or being a part of the magical community (I mean just look at retired Lao Shi). While Jun on the other hand doesn't really have a choice at being Te Xuan Zhe. Sure, she can probably return the title to her poor aging Ama, Jasmine or even find a way to pass it to Ray Ray, since their whole entangled magic thing - but it doesn't change the fact that she was chosen by The Magical Elders - by the highest magical authority there probably is - to be Te Xuan Zhe. And if she hadn't, she probably would have not access to magic and knowledge about it - she would have essentially been like the rest of their family - their parents and Dennis (before he learned about magic). This freedom of choice is not necessarilly something Jake and Jun discussed directly and openly very often, but it's a thing that is an almost palpable tension current in their interactions.

So, the second point that kinda spirals from their positions is about the authority and power. Jun, is essentially a boss of herself. It might not seem like it, but its kinda true - because she works mostly under her own power, without the Magical Elders directly breathing down her neck. Sure, Ama, Monroe and others help in guiding her, but more often than not she is not working necessarily under any orders, but on her own decisions. (It's actually a lot like Danny operates, but, well, with a lot more assistance than poor Phantom lol) In comparison, Jake, like I said, is essentially hired/chosen into his guardian position by the Dragon Council, and he is mentored by his grandfather and trained in some aspects by the Council. And while, sure, largely he also operates under his own power and makes his own decisions in regards of doing his job, there is also this constant watching from the Council and the threat of beings 'sacked' and have his powers restricted or completely sealed, like I mentioned before. It seems like such a small difference, since essentially they operate the same, but its another thing that kinda comes up in their interactions.

When it comes to less magical aspects tho, their families play a role in how they interact too. We all know that Jake has a little sister - Hailey, who seems like a perfect youngest child and often is shown to trying to one-up her older brother in the eyes of their parents. And we all know that while Jake and Hailey love and care for each other, the both clearly have sibling issues (like rivalry and feeling of inadequacy) between them. Jun, on the other hand, is a middle child, with a bossy teenaged older brother Dennis, and a chaos gremlin of younger brother Ray Ray. Jun constantly sqwabbles with Dennis (a little less after he learned about magic) and as Ray Ray's older sister, she constantly have to keep him in check. With those close relationships its no wonder that sometimes interactions between Jun and Jake can descend into similar sqabbles - it really doesn't help that Jake and Dennis have a few similarities, and that Jake has just a tiny bit of similar chaos gremlin energy that Ray Ray has; and that Jun is fiercely independant and very self-sufficient, which would remind Jake about how Hailey can be.

And when it comes to their parents, well, there is one super obvious glaring difference. Jake's mother always knew about magical side of the world, presumably that while she did not awaken her own dragon abilities she still possessed some inherant magic - and she had always been a stauch supporter of Jake's position as American Dragon (does not mean she was necessarilly happy about Jake being in danger, but since he awakened as dragon, there probably was little she could do), while Jake's father finally learned about it in the finale and accepted it and his family. Jun's parents on the other hand... are still very much oblivious, and very much human. And while its clear that they both love their kids, its inevitable that there would be some sort of distance between them, especially after all three kids learned about magic. And I feel like for Jun, being a middle child is not easy in general, but while also being a magical protector and staying close to her parents is probably twice as hard. Though, I guess to balance it out, Jake and Hailey are not really that good at getting along, at least compared to Jun, Ray Ray and Dennis, who got a lot closer ever since Dennis learned about magic.

But in conclusion: not only Jake gets a freedom of choice and the open support from his family, while Jun is literally caught in her position, and still prohibited from revealing about magic to her parents.

And I know it sounds a bit bleak for Jun when I put it all like this. I know it seems as a very solid ground for a relationship where Jun resents Jake and etc. but BUT!!!!! Those plot points that I mentioned before come in play, and it changes that relationship dynamic a bit, and while SURE there are some resentment from Jun about Jake, its not as strong, due to those PLOT POINTS THAT I CANT REVEAL BECAUSEEE AAARRRHH SPOILERS

it would be much more fun to reveal in stories ;)

But, so yeah, their relationship is just kinda really complicated??? It's the best I could give you rn. TTwTT

[whtepony]

NSFW ALPHABET | eijiro kirishima

ft. eijiro kirishima x afab reader

warnings: no pronouns used but reader has a vagina, cucking, i think that might be it? this one isn’t too crazy y’all!! not proofread!

notes: for everyone who asked for kiri!!! he’s so husband material aghhhhhdbdndjdj hope u guys enjoy

aftercare: what he’s like after sex

i think he’s one of the most attentive partners you could have! he asks you directly what he can do for you while he’s cleaning you up a bit with a warm towel. he’ll give you anything you ask for, whether it be food, water, a shower, something funny to watch, or to just cuddle and be together. he likes to massage your hips while you spoon just in case he hurt you (even if you tell him a dozen times he didn’t). he just wants to make sure!!

body part: his fav on you and his fav on himself

on himself, eijiro likes his back and shoulders. he puts in a lot of time at the gym and it shows! he’s very proud of it and loses his mind if you compliment his back muscles. god damn. on you, he likes your legs - yeah, mostly your thighs, but really all of your legs. he loves when you wear things that show them off and has a tendency to kiss you from your ankles alllllll the way up before he eats you out. he has a picture of him laying between your thighs that was definitely his lock screen for a long while.

cum: anything to do with cum

eijiro is a smart man. unless you’re actively trying for a baby or it’s a really special occasion, he avoids cumming inside you so you have a lower chance of any surprises. but goddd if it isn’t his favorite thing in the world. he enjoys finishing on your ass or stomach but nothing compares to how it feels to paint your insides. he thinks it’s partly a possessive thing - seeing his cum drip out of you makes him feel like only he could ever do this, like he’ll be the only one to ever claim you that way. asks you soooo politely to take a picture on the few occasions it does happen and keeps them in a hidden folder that he opens when he’s missing you.

dirty secret: a dirty secret of his

he secretly would like to be cucked but doesn’t think it’d be emotionally healthy for him, so he never brings it up. he’s actually very possessive and probably couldn’t handle sharing you like that. but every once in a while, he’ll fantasize about watching katsuki fuck you in front of him, only to shake the thought from his head immediately afterwards. he’s more likely to bring up a threesome than to ever bring up this fantasy of his, because then he could be involved in some way - he’d have some sense of control then. as hot as it could be, he’s worried that his best friend would fuck you better!

experience: how experienced is he?

you’re definitely not his first, but there haven’t been very many before you. i’d say he’s probably had three or four previous partners and he clearly learned a lot from being with them! he’s a very attentive lover and a quick learner. he pays attention to what you like and don’t like, and he’ll check in with you often to make sure you’re enjoying yourself.

favorite position: self explanatory

he is a doggy and prone bone LOVERRR. literally anything that lets him look at and grab your ass. he’s an ass man and these give him a great view!! he loves how deep he can get in either position, and especially likes being able to put his full weight on top of you in prone bone. he won’t hurt you, but he knows you like being pressed up against each other like that and it gives him easy access to kiss your neck n talk in your ear. it also makes him feel hugeee bc he easily covers your entire body.

goofy: is he more funny or serious in the moment?

i think he’s a good mix of both! he loves to make you laugh but is capable of completely ruining you in the next second. he’s aware that sex is kinda funny sometimes and will take advantage of that (especially if something isn’t going as planned) but not to the point where it ruins the mood.

hair: anything to do with grooming

he doesn’t shave but keeps it in check. he keeps it trimmed fairly short and is pretty good about maintaining it, but he doesn’t mind shaving if you ask him to. he couldn’t care less about whether or not you shave bc either way he is IN THEREE. truly does not have a preference and will tell you how pretty you look no matter what. he just wants you to feel confident in yourself, so he likes whatever you like!

intimacy: how is he with the romantic aspect?

he is very tender and loving. not to be mistaken with gentle. he could be fucking the life out of you but you can still tell he’s doing it with soooo much adoration for you. this man worships the ground you walk on. he kisses every inch of your skin and tells you how incredibly beautiful you are to him because he means it! eijiro is the number one loverboy and plans out super romantic sex for anniversaries and your birthday. he’s the type of man to hit you with the trail of rose petals and candlelight before fucking your brains out just because he loves you!

jack off: anything to do with masturbation

he has a pretty high sex drive so depending on how much he gets to see you, he jerks off fairly often. he doesn’t like porn but has an album in his phone full of pictures you’ve sent him or the two of you together. sometimes if he knows you’re not busy but can’t be with you for some reason he’ll call you for phone sex because the sound of your voice helps him get off. bonus points if you’re touching yourself at the same time

kink: a kink of his

i’ve said it before and i’ll say it again. eijiro kirishima has a size and strength kink. he LOVES being bigger than you and showing off his strength in bed. a big fan of a mating press because it’s just so easy to fold you in half! even if you’re tall or plus sized he is so so strong and the way he handles you makes it seem like you’re tiny. he’s also like. huge. so you probably are small compared to him, no matter what. this extends to how big his dick is as well - he’s thick and seeing the way you literally stretch around him drives him insane.

location: his favorite place to do it

eiji just likes to have you in bed, away from anyone else’s eyes or other distractions. he likes having the space to kinda toss you around and wants you to be as comfortable as possible. he’s okay with other places around your place if you live together, but ultimately he’s gonna want to have you in bed, which also makes aftercare and cleanup easier!

motivation: what gets him going

uh, the wind? anything you do has this man bricked up. wearing his clothes? doing your makeup? talking? laughing? bending over? kissing him? he’s ready. everything you do is sexy to him. he does especially love when you initiate though; you coming to him and letting him know you’re in the mood will always do it for him. he likes to feel wanted by you, so tell him you want him! if you come up behind him while he’s doing something and start rubbing his shoulders while you whisper in his ear he will take you to bed as soon as humanly possible.

no: something he won’t do

i feel like he isn’t into degradation at all. he thinks it doesn’t feel natural and why would he want to be mean to you anyway? he doesn’t mean any of that, so why would he say it? the most you could get out of him is him calling you a slut or something but even then it takes some convincing and he’ll only do it if he’s absolutely positive you want it. he has moral qualms with slut shaming and doesn’t really like calling you anything in that vain 😭

oral: preference giving or receiving

d1 eater. munch. face seat. this guy loves eating pussy and genuinely could die happy between your thighs. he likes receiving, don’t get me wrong, but he absolutely adores making you cum on his tongue. he’s waking you up with it and putting you to sleep with it. if he grew facial hair he’d be one of those guys that has bleached patches because he is just alwayyyssss eating you out. he likes having you sit on his face and will pull you down onto his mouth if you start to lift your hips. argue with the wall he is a MUNCH!

pace: fast, slow, stamina, etc

i think his stamina is pretty average and he tends to go fast and deep. his strokes are consistent and he’s good at pacing himself so he won’t get too tired before he can make you cum. he never ever finishes before you because he’s a gentleman! he usually is done after one round but if you want more he’s happy to use his mouth and fingers until you’re satisfied.

risk: is he game to experiment or take risks?

he has no problem trying new things but it’s usually something brought up by you. he knows what he likes and doesn’t typically feel the need to switch things up unless you express that desire. he isn’t particularly risky (e.g public sex) but he’s happy to experiment privately! sometimes he’ll see a tiktok or tweet about something you haven’t tried together and send it to you in case it was something you were afraid to bring up. he wants you to be able to tell him about the things you’re curious about so you can try them together, and he isn’t particularly bothered if it doesn’t work out!

stamina: how many rounds can he go?

like i said he’s usually satisfied after one round but on occasions where he’s particularly excited or pent up he can go two or (rarely) three rounds. you guys have sex often so he usually doesn’t feel the need to go several rounds, and he also gets overstimulated pretty easily, so he needs a little bit of downtime in between!

toys: does he own toys? does he use them?

he owns one fleshlight from before you got together but hardly ever uses it. once in a blue moon if you’ve been apart for a long time he’ll bring it out but he usually doesn’t feel the need to. he doesn’t mind using toys together but i don’t think he necessarily goes out of his way to do so! but uh if he catches you using one he’s finishing you off with it before fucking you himself.

unfair: how much does he like to tease?

eijiro kinda spoils you but he doesn’t really care. in his eyes, you deserve it! he doesn’t tease you too much because if you even give him the slightest signal that you want something he’s folding immediately. he just wants to make you happy! he’s not a fan of orgasm denial, he much prefers to overstimulate you if anything.

volume: how loud is he?

like i said before he’s all in your ear lmao. i wouldn’t say he’s loud but he’s very vocal. he moans so so so pretty and gets louder when he cums. he’s fairly talkative as well, he tells you alllll about how good your pussy feels and how good you’re taking him. he’s capable of being quiet but why would he be? he wants you to know how good you make him feel so why would he ever hold it back? he doesn’t understand guys who are quiet in bed and never has. he loves to tell you how much he adores you when he’s giving you the dicking down of the century and he thinks it’s cute when you get all flustered from it!

wild card: random headcanon

he whines if you pull his hair. that’s it.

x-ray: what’s going on underneath those clothes?

whew. 6.7 inches hard and sooo thick and heavy. slightly thicker just below the tip. he has a few prominent veins and it’s so so pretty just like the rest of him!! his tip is slightly pink and tbh he leaks a lot of pre, especially when you start touching him. he’s just gorgeous. i can’t even explain it.

yearning: how high is his sex drive?

high!! his love language is physical touch and this definitely extends into your sex life. he’s crazy about you and genuinely always wants to be touching you. if you’re living together, you probably have sex four or five times a week on average; he specifically makes time for it, even if your schedules clash. he wants you to know how much he appreciates you and shows it through world ending orgasms

zzz: how fast does he fall asleep afterwards?

he gets a short little burst of energy directly afterwards, which he uses to clean up and get you taken care of in any way you might need. but honestly, he is crashing not long after. he puts a lot of effort in! once he’s sure you’re comfortable he is knocked tf out in minutes and sleeps like the dead. he gets great sleep because if you’re around, you’re basically fucking each other to sleep most nights!

[gh0stsp1d3r]

Can you make some headcanons with Brother!JJ and his Little!Sister!Reader who is autistic? Because I can totally imagine JJ, in his own way, try to make her life better and be a good brother to her. And also because it would be kind of funny to see Jj being so... Well, himself with everyone but being a big softie with his baby sister. And of course being so protective with her.

P.s: the reader can be 14 or 15.

P.s²: pls don't be bothered but I might ask for some things related to that in the future🙌😔 It's kind of difficult to find authors who write autistic readers, so I think your blog might have been a find

brother!jj x autistic!little sister!reader

A/n: omg yes!! I love this sm. writing autistic readers literally makes me feel so seen, i love it so much. im not bothered at all lol!

𝜗❀᧓ you’re correct, anon! Ever since he could remember, all he wanted was to make your life better than it was.

𝜗❀᧓ when you were diagnosed, Luke tended to be a bit of an asshole, but Jj, always your savior, was there for you. He had always tried his best and hardest to protect you from him.

𝜗❀᧓ he’s not very good with learning new things, but for you, he tries all the time. He learned about things like special interests, and how to deal with meltdowns, etc.

𝜗❀᧓ he also doesn’t mind making/buying your safety foods at all, as long as you’re happy, he keeps doing it.

𝜗❀᧓ it is kind of funny, one minute JJ can be screaming at a group of kooks or something, and the next, he’ll be worriedly glancing at you, watching over you like a hawk would her babies.

𝜗❀᧓ he tries as hard as he can to not put you in danger. When he goes on hunts, he’ll tell you to stay at the Chateau or to stay with a friend. He rarely takes you with him, even if he wants to.

𝜗❀᧓ but, if there was a situation that you all ended up in, and there’s been plenty of those, his first job is always to get you out of there.

𝜗❀᧓ even if it’s something small, like a small gathering being too much for you, getting overstimulated quickly and your eyes watering, but trying your best to suck it up for JJ. He knows you like the back of his hand, though, and quickly realizes there’s something wrong.

𝜗❀᧓ he’s also the most observant in those situations, and whenever you could potentially be in danger, he has an arm in front of you, his body blocking yours.

𝜗❀᧓ he has and will beat people up for you.

𝜗❀᧓ you can talk shit about him, but the second someone even looks wrong at you, he’s on them quickly.

𝜗❀᧓ the pogues also adore you (: jj loves talking about you and he will literally do whatever he has to do to protect you.

[rnadett]

Here is your Big Fat Hero- Cailtyn 'defender' post

I somehow get that you think Caitlyn went too far, but so did the fandom. A lot of you talk about her as a 'dictator' and compare her use of The Grey to make her sound like Hitler, it seems people forget that she purposely used it only on her targets, not on civilians or all of Zaun. In fact, she even did a bit of a favor for Zaunites in the long term.

So let’s start analyzing the important aspects in a somewhat objective way. (Don’t mind my profile picture—I promise I'll try to be objective… or maybe not, who knows?)

EVEN after her mother died, Caitlyn still tried to protect the innocent in Zaun and tried to convincing the council not to start an invasion.

She even disagreed with Vi’s opinion on using the gauntlet (Hextech as a weapon), which we saw when she discussed it with Jayce.

This was her last scene before the attack on the memorial.

After that, we can clearly see how much it affected her; it fueled her anger (Good job, Ambessa—a true politician! No wonder Mel learned from her - except she is using it for better reasons). Yet, her anger wasn’t directed at civilians or all of Zaun.

Even then, she managed to call off the invasion, which she didn’t support in the first place. And after the attack, Vi talked her down in just two minutes—a point that hasn’t gotten enough credit, especially since it was her mother’s memorial.

This scene is also telling: there’s a storm brewing inside her, and while she wants to do the right thing, like protecting innocents from war, events escalate too quickly for her to reason through them and find a solution alone. Vi staying as her only remaining pillar in all this madness.

But yeah, her anger hasn’t faded just jet, but with Vi, they found an alternative—morally gray, but still better than risking a massacre between Zaun and Piltover.

And this is what they did. In the clip at the beginning of Episode 3, we see that they targeted ONLY gang members, not civilians in Zaun. I need to mention this a few times because there's already a misconception that Caitlyn and Vi are targeting or harming civilians.

But if you look at every frame, you’ll only see them going after gang members responsible for suffering and exploitation—Margot's and Chross's gangs, for example.

Oh, and let’s not forget, these were the people Isha was running from in the first place. A children!

So, Overall, this is just a continuation of what Vi tried to do in Season 1, but now with Caitlyn instead of Jayce (or alone).

So why does Caitlyn get all the blame?

As I see it, these actions were not hers alone; Vi was part of it too. In fact, this was Vi’s original plan (except the Jinx part, of course).

So, the point of my post is this: Yes, Caitlyn is heading in a bad direction, and killing—even gang members— with gas isn’t a good thing. But at this point, she and Vi haven’t harmed innocents. Despite how it looks, at least these actions prevent more innocent children, like Isha, from being harmed. Another question is where things will go now that Caitlyn has pushed Vi away (which I think was her only truly wrong action in Act 1).

Now Ambessa has taken Vi's place (in meaning of influence, not in any other way you little pervert) , and rather than calming her, Ambessa will fuel Caitlyn’s anger, grief, and self-hatred even more.

Oh my god, I love this scene. You can see the micro-expression on Ambessa's face, how satisfied she is, knowing how good she’s pulling the strings so far.

But I think we all feel that this match is far from over.

I also leave this here:

In the end, though, I believe that Caitlyn, no matter who’s currently influencing her, will have to decide her own path and who she truly is—without relying on anyone else. Even if we love her with Vi, this is something she needs to figure out ALONE.

Anyway, I might have written more in detail if Tumblr didn’t have a 10-image/post limit. Maybe I’ll make another post about the things I left out or would have expanded on.

[grison-in-space]

Stupidest of stupid questions: So humans are trichromatic, right? We basically have RGB eyes. How inefficient would it be to have CMYK eyes? Is it even possible?

You could absolutely do CMY eyes, but the K (being black) is a little more difficult because black isn't a wavelength of light so much as the absence of light. I suppose you could call the K your rods, which are best used in low light and convey things like "shadows" and "movement" particularly effectively. As a human, the most sensitive part of your retina, the part you're using when you directly look at things, is called the fovea. It is PACKED with cones, which are good for color and also tight spatial resolution; rods are found outside along the periphery of both the retinal and visual field. So we're just going to set the K aside now and think about those cones.

Honestly, tetrachromat eyes are technically pretty easy to achieve: all you need is four versions of cone-rhodopsin genes getting translated into different kinds of cone-rhodopsin cells in your retina. Old World primates evolved our trichromat eyes from dichromat mammalian ancestors exactly this way: with a gene duplication in one core cone-rhodopsin gene that allowed one of the copies to accumulate mutations until a sufficiently divergent copy fixed in the population.

So to have CMY eyes, you'd need three cone-rhodopsins with different wavelength sensitivities: one that is most sensitive to cerulean, one most sensitive to maroon, and one most sensitive to yellow. You might or might not have better color resolution than a regular old RGB human, though: color resolution is partly a function of the sensory information hitting your retinas, but it's also partly a function of how much brain space you dedicate to processing that information.

I mentioned my blind cat Arthur the other day--here's a photo:

Arthur is what we call cortically blind. As a kitten, he had an intact pupillary reflex and could probably see light vs dark, but he also had severe nystagmus, so his pupils jittered uncontrollably all the time and he probably didn't get a whole lot of useful visual input. Without the visual experience of seeing things and learning how to organize and process visual information, his brain as he developed went "you know what? fuck this" and stopped dedicating any processing power to whatever visual input he was getting.

Basically, he lost visual acuity because the information he was able to pipe to his brain was fragmented and poor-quality enough that his brain stopped bothering to process it. If I pulled his current eyeballs out and magically hooked up new totally functional ones, he wouldn't be able to do anything with them: his brain has given up sorting out the information.

So the question of whether theoretical CMY humans could distinguish colors better than RGB humans is driven by two things: one, whether having two highly-overlapping cones helps you distinguish between slightly variant light types better than very different cones, and two, whether we're extending the total visual range by moving the cones at the external ends of the range (B and R) farther apart. Overlapping but unique sensory information can be really helpful for localizing and distinguishing similar-but-not-identical inputs--that's one of the reasons owls are good at localizing quiet noises, actually, their ears are wildly asymmetrical and they can computer where a noise is made based on how loudly it can be heard with each ear, especially if the owl is on the move as it listens. Like the Doppler effect, but faster with a lot more processing power on it.

I have no idea which would be more effective, but it's a fun thing to think about!

[yourbiggestcrybaby]

Dark Side

Tom Riddle X Reader

Tom is aware you have come from a school where the dark arts are taught. He knows you can help him and he knows just how to convince you

Warnings: slight manipulation, dark arts

The restricted section of the library was quiet. Tom watched you scan the shelves, an amused smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. You were so focused, so intent on finding something in these dusty old shelves. He knew what you were searching for, even if you didn’t know it yourself yet. Power. Knowledge that Hogwarts would never hand over to you willingly.

He let the silence stretch before stepping forward, making sure his footsteps were just loud enough to be heard. Predictably, you spun around, masking the flicker of surprise in your eyes almost as quickly as it appeared. A good sign. You were sharp, quicker than most, but Tom wasn’t worried about that. If anything, it made this more interesting.

"Looking for something forbidden, are we?" he murmured, keeping his voice low, watching you like a hawk. He saw the slight shift in your expression, the hint of wariness. Perfect. You were already on guard, already trying to figure him out. Good, he thought. Be curious. That’ll make this so much easier.

“Tom,” you replied, your tone carefully neutral. “Didn’t expect anyone else here.”

He smiled, just enough to put you off balance. “Ah, yes. You wouldn’t,” he replied smoothly, moving in closer, careful to make his steps calm, unthreatening. He had a knack for knowing when to press in and when to pull back, a skill that had already gotten him access to more knowledge than any other student his age. This was no different.

As he approached, he let his gaze drift to the book you’d picked up, one you’d clearly grabbed on impulse. The wrong choice, but he’d let you realize that on your own. Instead, he raised an eyebrow, amusement in his voice. "Interesting choice,” he said lightly. “But I’d think someone with your background would be interested in… other texts.”

He saw the faint flicker of unease in your eyes, the way you adjusted your grip on the book. So, he thought with a flash of satisfaction, it’s true. Your dark arts training didn’t fade as quickly as Dumbledore had hoped. He watched your expression carefully, knowing that his mention of your past would strike a nerve. It always did. People who came from the darker schools always felt that edge of suspicion in places like Hogwarts, the feeling of being an outsider, of hiding something.

“Maybe I am,” you replied, cool but not defensive. Not bad, he thought. You were trying to keep him at a distance, trying to keep control of the conversation. But you wouldn’t last long. He’d made sure of that.

“Oh, I have no doubt about that,” he said, a hint of intrigue in his voice. He let his tone stay casual, almost amused, but not enough to hide the curiosity in his eyes. He’d learned early on that interest was a powerful tool; people always responded to the thrill of being noticed. “But Hogwarts might not have what you’re used to. Not openly, anyway.” He watched you closely, seeing the way his words drew you in. “Still, you know the things taught where you are from aren’t forgotten here. If anything, they’re just… hidden better.”

The way you studied him then, the hint of resistance, it was clear you weren’t going to give in easily. He almost smirked. Good, he thought, his pulse quickening. It’s always more interesting when they resist.

“And why are you so interested in my old curriculum?” you asked, your voice still light, but he could hear the guarded edge.

He leaned back a little, letting his posture go easy, almost dismissive, knowing how much more effective that would be than anything intense. “Oh, I’m not interested in that,” he said, shrugging slightly. “I’m interested in you.” He let that sink in, watching as the idea took root. “A student who actually knows what magic can do beyond the harmless charms and tricks we’re taught here. I’d think you know spells and techniques that others couldn’t even imagine.” He paused, just long enough to watch your expression shift. “Which, naturally, would make you quite valuable.”

Valuable. That word always worked. It was true, after all, though not in the way you might have thought. Tom’s mind was already racing, already calculating how he might use what you knew, what you dark school had taught you. And the best part was that you wanted this power, even if you hadn’t fully admitted it to yourself. That hunger—it was just under the surface, buried behind all the polite airs and restraint you wore. He’d seen it in the way you looked at certain spells in class, the ones that made the others shrink back in fear. He knew exactly how to draw that side of you out.

“Valuable?” You raised an eyebrow, keeping your tone casual. “And you think you’re the one to show me how?”

He almost laughed. Predictable, he thought. You wanted to believe you could see through him, that you weren’t impressed. But he could see it in your eyes, that flicker of curiosity. He tilted his head, letting his gaze sharpen, his expression just serious enough to make you feel like he was seeing something no one else could. “I think you have a potential that most at this school couldn’t even comprehend. Power that few would understand.” He paused, as if measuring his words carefully. “You could accomplish so much, if only you'd... let go of certain reservations.”

He watched as your expression shifted, and he knew he’d struck a chord. Yes, he thought, his pulse quickening again. Let that sink in. It was always the first step. Plant the seed, make them doubt their limitations. After that, it was only a matter of time before they came to him willingly, before they were willing to do anything he suggested.

“I know you don’t believe in the rules, not really,” he continued, his voice calm and coaxing. “And Hogwarts isn’t giving you what you need. Not truly. They’re holding you back, but you’re far too intelligent to let the Ministry’s silly morals stand in your way.”

He could almost see the thoughts racing in your mind, the way you were weighing his words, considering the possibility of everything he was offering. Yes, he thought, pleased. Think about it. Let it fester.

[naamahdarling]

You should see it. It isn't worth the risk of not seeing it if it's something that you might even remotely enjoy. Especially based on what one person says, no matter how much you admire or trust them.

He can dislike it, but if the unicorn had been buddy-movie grateful, disney-movie emotional, it would have been a very different, very shallow, MUCH worse movie. Like just, really really bad.

She's not bitchy or catty or cruel, she literally does not understand humans or their drive or their big emotions. She doesn't feel love, she doesn't feel regret. She doesn't have ambition, she doesn't desire or benefit from change. She barely wants anything. She's complete by herself. She is content.

She can't be ungrateful unless you expect what is essentially a...a kind of immortal spirit, a place, a forest in the shape of a creature, to be in any way at all human. She can't be a deity, that's an extremely human concept, but she is not a normal living thing in any regard whatsoever.

The entire point of the movie is change, and truth. Front to back, it is change and truth, and the destruction of illusions, and surviving it, and the toll that takes, and the gifts it can bring. It's full of tremendous and intense, unthinkable, incomprehensible, destructive, renewing, life-altering change. And also truth, and the unraveling of illusions, which are everywhere in the narrative, and are almost always dangerous, or hiding something that is.

The unicorn unravels everything around her by being the catalyst for change, and it is incredibly destructive. Things come apart around her. It leads to good things, usually, but it breaks everything first.

She changes on the road, she learns to care about humans enough to help them, to save their lives, and that is very much an expression of gratitude.

She just doesn't care about the wizard questing for greatness. It is irrelevant. Glory is useless. And she's right.

She doesn't experience a fundamental alteration of her nature until she is forcibly changed against her will to survive, and it is not a positive change. It ruins her. It is a tremendous trauma that leaves her empty and broken, and eventually, partly and unnaturally human. She keeps losing what she was, and it is tragic and painful to watch. Why would she be grateful for that? She wishes she had died.

She finally develops something like love, but only after she has forgotten much of what she was. Then she desperately grasps onto it as something to replace what she lost.

Her encroaching humanity is killing what she was (her first response to being human was absolute visceral terror at having a mortal, and thus actively dying, body) a trauma response that allows her to survive, to hide. An illusion.

Love is an attempt to make peace with it all, and it is beautiful enough, but also empty. You are never meant to cheer for it. Only feel for them both. It's a sticking point for some people that the romance isn't done well. It isn't meant to feel right. They leaned on it a little hard in the movie, the book does it better, but it was a "kids' movie" (it isn't) so that was a little inevitable.

Change destroys everything, and it breaks everything.

At the end, when she changes back, who is it she appears to, to acknowledge what happened? And who is it she visits and touches and loves and says goodbye to? She is grateful.

The movie/book does exactly what it set out to do, and I have to say that I don't necessarily trust the judgment of people who dismiss it out of hand.

Yes, I saw it young, in the theater, so I imprinted, but it has been a radically different movie at different parts of my life. I've identified with every character in different phases of my life, so it has had the depth to stand up to easily over a hundred viewings by a half dozen versions of myself. I know people have their issues with the style of animation which, whatever, I think it's gorgeous and I also don't consider that a reason to dismiss an otherwise good movie or show (I really dislike the animation style of Gravity Falls, actually, it bores the crap out of me, but that isn't the point). But the story itself is not like anything else I've ever seen.

If you get it, you get it. If you don't, you don't. But wanting her to be grateful and kind is...really super duper extremely not the point, and would actually be antithetical to it and ruin the story as it is. And it's missing the ways she expresses those things. If that's what you take away, that she is somehow morally deficient, you literally did not understand it, or you haven't seen it, or you have a take so radically divergent from mine I am probably incapable of understanding it.

It is so, so good.

Following the author of The Last Unicorn on Facebook is the only thing that makes being on that site worthwhile.

(source)

[system-of-a-feather]

hi, i have been thinking about the topic of fusion, and what i want my long-term goals to be, and i was wondering. do you ever feel like being fused is exhausting? not the process of fusion, i know thats exhausting because healing is exhausting. but like. do you ever feel overwhelmed due to being all parts of yourself at once? i havent experienced any fusions yet (hopefully in the future!) but ive seen people talk about how even when fused, none of the parts disappear but instead are all part of the "you" that always exists. my only frame of reference for how that feels for myself is blendy cofronting, which in my experience can be pleasant with 2 or 3 parts, but any more than that gets overwhelming and disorienting

Actually? Surprisingly? No. Not really at all honestly. The funny thing is that I used to wonder the same thing so I absolutely understand the frame of reference and perspective and assumptions that go with it, but its extremely comfortable and LOW energy to be fused for me.

The actual thing that happens is that you don't really get that "too many parts in front" fatigue like... ever or fronting fatigue like ever - at least thats how it is for me.

I relax a whole fuck ton better as a fused whole and while a lot of fusion still has me having to learn my new / fused "me" and how I operate on a baseline, thats an entirely different thing than trying to balance all the differing and contrasting parts or trying to understand and negotiate that because like... They are all simultaneously me and I VERY freely and fluidly exist as and between all of them. There isn't really "compromise" I have to make because.... we just co-exist harmoniously as one without even needing to explicitly talk about it or discuss or put intention into coming to a shared understanding, we just... do and know and its really really really really fucking easy living as a fused whole compared to being multiple parts

Like even if you were to ask me just as ONE part versus how I am now, there is not a single part in our system that has ever actually been so comfortable and so not-fatigued existing as I am as a whole

Everythings a lot more balanced, managable and our window of tolerance is STUPID fucking large - and I don't mean that in a "relative to where we used to be" or "relative to someone with as much trauma as I do" but genuinely STUPIDLY huge compared to most generally neurotypical non-traumatized not-severely-mentally ill people and I largely thank that to Post Traumatic Growth honestly.

But like... tldr, not really at all for me surprisingly. Maybe really early post fusion when I was still figuring myself out a lot but like.... Thats more so the process of fusing than being fused itself imo.

(Side note edit: Sometimes I DO think itd be better to explore a situation and issue as independent parts and so sometimes I DO operate in a more system / plural way of existing for however long its beneficial, but thats less to do with fusion not helping me as much as it is that I think a plural lens and perspective has a lot of perks in navigating complicated situations.)

Anyways tagging a few others who might have a different answer / perspective on this since they are either in a different stage of a fusion / integration and/or have a different way of existing with their fused / integrated state than me.

@hiiragi7 @reimeichan @subsystems

[calware]

You might've answered something like this before but how do you pick colours for your art? Your choices are always so striking, visually interesting and delightful. I would love to learn your ways. (also hi)

WAAHHHH THANK YOU <3 <3 (also hi!!) first of all i do have a post from quite a while back with some general tips that you can check out, but my process has changed a bit since then so i can definitely elaborate a little bit more!

observation

this first tip is not very straightforward (sorry) but something i try to do is pay attention to the colors and lighting in the real world and try to remember what moments really stick with me. like when you're watching the sunset and the light from the sky washes everything in pink and tints the buildings orange, or when it's dusk and the light blue of the sky contrasts with the dark blues of everything that's in shadow, or looking in a lake and all the greens, browns, and blues mix together in rich jewel tones

i try to keep track of these things & the emotions they make me feel (almost like taking notes in a mental journal) so i can try referencing them when i want a certain drawing to feel a certain way. AGAIN this is really not straightforward and i don't really know how helpful it actually is...? but i find that observation can be a really helpful tool and i find myself doing it a lot

references

sort of the same as the last point BUT using preexisting photos and artwork instead! this one is more straightforward because you can actually reference them as you are drawing. i said this in the other post i made but i think that looking at other images and asking yourself "how is the artist/photographer using the colors to make it look this way? how do i recreate that?" and using that as a way to study their use of colors can be really helpful. if you find a drawing that has cool colors, try using those colors in your own drawings and see how they look!

that said, i would try to avoid color-picking things directly because i find that if you try choosing them on your own you 1) gain a better understanding of what you're doing 2) have more control over what you're doing and 3) you can "push" your colors in ways you might not if you color-pick directly

play with contrasting hues

i think this might just be a personal preference, but i find that i'm not as big of a fan of monochromatic images, and i prefer it when drawings utilize a wide variety of hues. this goes especially for ones that implement more contrast in the hues (not necessarily where the colors have more contrast in value, but rather contrast as in they're further apart on the color wheel)

for example, in this drawing, everything is washed in green light except for rose's skin, which is a very saturated reddish-brown. this is sort of what i mean by "pushing" the colors because, in a realistic setting, a person sitting in green lighting is going to have a more greenish-looking skin tone (like in this drawing). you can see this in how the whites of the drawing—her hair and eyes—are greenish, but i made the stylistic choice to not do the same with her skin to create contrast between the two hues

i edited the one on the bottom to match the green-ness of the rest of the image, and the effect is pretty noticeable! green light makes people look less lively, almost sickly (which is good to use if that's the feeling you want to show, of course)

another small example of this is in this drawing where i use a couple of different hues in davesprite's body. overall, it registers as orange, but i like to ever-so-slightly introduce a bit of green to contrast with the orange, letting the lightest values tip into the greens instead of stopping at yellow to contrast with the muted red in the wings. the darkest values are purple, which also contrasts with the yellow parts. the only hue missing from this image is blue! the colors are all still analogous, and the greens and purples are a lot less saturated than the oranges and yellows, so nothing clashes and overall leads to a more subtle contrast

the colors on the top are the ones from the image, while the ones on the bottom i see used a lot more commonly—which isn't a bad thing! i just think it looks nice to use a wide range of hues because of the way they complement each other :)

other than these strategies, my process varies greatly depending on what i'm working on, so it's difficult to get any more specific than this (unless you'd like to ask about the process of a specific drawing!) there isn't really any step-by-step method i use for every drawing i make, usually i am doing something different each time based on the goals i have for the project

[mistyscenter]

I've been noticing that some people seem to be having trouble to draw Deja's hair. This isn't necessarily a jab to anyone but if you are struggling I do beg of you to look at the links here on how to draw Black hair, and specifically braids

Disclaimer: I AM NOT BLACK, in fact I'm white this is why I say to look at these references and posts made by Black people, they know this subject 10 times better than I do so please literally just check these links and listen to what Black people when it comes to Black hair and how to draw them

@/CreatingBlackcharacters has several great posts on Black characters and anti-Black stereotypes as a whole I would look at her page in general and she also has two very good lessons on Black hair here's PT. 1 and PT. 2

Very helpful guide on how to draw Black hair by cinnimani

If you use clip studio paint LovMura on Twitter has made some braids brushes and they're free

Other helpful resources on how to draw Black hair:

https://x.com/WhytManga/status/1761547571581853862

https://x.com/BlakeOhBeKay/status/1630607926086844424

Another thing is that I highly recommend following Black artists and see how they draw Black hairstyles, references are always useful to have and of course practice, practice, practice! Simply apply the same principals you would when approaching any new thing to draw and practice it, a lot, with references, sorry guys but is the only way to learn (or cheat and use brushes)

Hope this is helpful!!

(note that I might come back to this post to add even more references)

[cimmerian-chaos]

This is just our own musings on things based on our own expirience in being nonbinary, and a bit of a train of thought rambling, but comparing our understanding of these types of issues before meeting and having a lot more trans women in our life, and irl vs before, where our only expirience with trans people in general was on reddit, and a few other places. But back then we had based on lurking in both spaces, had conceptualized the struggles of trans women as "struggles of being AFAB + tranphobia" when that's a wildly different take than the understanding than what we have now.

At the time we also felt more masc leaning, and our observation plus expiriences facing discrimination irl was that transmasc spaces seemed to be either be steeped in toxic masculinity, potentially due to transmascs feeling pressure to "prove themselves" a behavior that's a pretty common expirience being AFAB, but can wind up inaverdently morphing into toxic masculinity. Or what you say and do in transmasc spaces is heavily policed. We personally aren't sure if this is due to internalized transphobia, fear of the response of other trans people, including trans women, or what, bc we didn't stick around in those spaces to find out.

It makes me wonder if part of the problem might stem from how a lot of AFAB people conceptualize what being a man means and is, not fully taking into consideration that those concepts can be intrinsically colored by their expirience in being AFAB. Gender is a social construct, and I feel like a lot of trans people will easily say that in a "fuck the gender binary" kind of way, but don't make the connection of "all social constructs influence our behavior and ways of thinking on very deep levels"

I also worry that due to the spirals of miscommunication, misunderstanding, and consequential distrust, that it'll only deepen the divides that exist between trans men and trans women. We're seeing enough of it as it is with the rise of this behavior of seemingly reinventing gender roles with a queer spin. I feel that trans men and women would be able to learn a lot from each other just by taking the time to understand each others points of view, and uplift each others voices and expiriences, even if it's something that may take time to digest. I know that we've been all the better for it.

But again, we're equally suseptable to those same biases, so if any AMAB folks have any thoughts on any of this, we'd appreciate that input.

[walking confidently into a live minefield] I can't say for sure how we reached the point where "trans women everywhere (read as: everywhere online) oppress/hate/are secretly plotting the downfall of trans men" is a thing that people think is both true and reasonable to believe, but I think at least one factor is a stupid vicious cycle of bad actors and gullible bystanders where, like. you have some guys engaging in shitty misogynistic behavior > some women either try to explain why this behavior is shitty and misogynistic (to no avail) or just disengage entirely > instead of learning from this, the guys act all wounded about it > outside observers who don't have a great grasp on the situation (or maybe don't have great grasp on how misogyny functions in general, or think that only cis men can engage in misogynistic behaviors, or have some kind of unconscious hang-up against trans women) see this and think aw man, these poor dudes are getting ragged on for no reason! > people who weren't necessarily doing the original shitty misogynistic behavior are falsely pointing the finger at trans women for "starting shit" > this is obviously fucking irritating, and no one has an infinite well of patience, so after calmly defending themselves however many times, some of these ladies are just gonna start telling bad-faith jokers to fuck off > shitty dudes and gullible bystanders go "see, they're doing it again! those man-hating harpies!" > women continue to be irritated and (understandably) defensive, tell bad-faith jokers to fuck off > and so on and so forth.

and to be clear "vicious cycle" does not mean "oh well really it's everyone's fault for being involved in the whole mess." I think there's a pretty clear cause and effect here where if you're dismissive of women's voices and viewpoints, and hold them to unfair standards, and just generally aren't very nice, they might not be very nice to you in return. and why should they be!

[sansaorgana]

— IN PERPETUITY (II)

PART ONE

PAIRING — Sauron x fem!Maia!Reader

SUMMARY — After murdering her husband, Sauron's wife disguises herself as a beautiful Elven maiden to live in Eregion and gain Lord Celebrimbor's trust as she hopes for him to forge her the Rings of Power. Her plans get interrupted when her husband comes back in a new form as well and he is thirsty for revenge.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — The Reader in this fic is a Maia, so she changes her appearance like Sauron does but I am not describing any of her forms in any details. The title of the fanfic and its vibe are inspired by the song Sugarbread by Soap&Skin. Special thanks to @dinsbeskar for giving me the most appreciated feedback before I posted this fic! 💕 I originally planned for Sauron to be the dom in this part but... oopsie, I got carried away and surprise, surprise... He is a sub again! 🤣

WARNINGS — Reader is evil-evil with sadistic undertones, manipulation, gaslighting, SMUT, choking, hair pulling, sub!Sauron

WORD COUNT — 5,660

🔞 THIS FIC IS 18+ 🔞

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

IN PERPETUITY (II)

You spent a few more decades in the North inside the very same fortress but its eerie aura was making you feel too uneasy. Adar could sense that too, as if Sauron’s death cursed this place furthermore.

He wanted to go with his children to The Southlands and to turn it into a home for the Orcs who could not bear the sunlight. You had slightly other plans but his schemes did not interfere with yours.

“I shall assist you and lead your army all the way South,” you told him one evening. “We should leave this place, it is not doing me any good and I cannot waste more time hiding here,” you informed him.

“What are your plans, my Lady?” Adar asked and you only smirked at him.

“What leader would I be if I shared all my schemes with you?” You asked and he clenched his jaw. You knew what was the thing he feared the most, so you quickly reassured him. “I want your children to have their home, too. In fact, such a land of darkness might be useful to me. I am not fond of sunlight either. Therefore, as I said, I shall lead you to The Southlands and assist you on the way. But after we arrive and you settle in, I will leave your side. We will remain in touch, of course,” you nodded. “But I trust you enough for us to split for a few centuries.”

In fact, you did not trust him enough. You would never trust anyone. But you had no other choice and you simply had to abandon your army for some time if your plan was supposed to turn out successful.

“Where will you go?” Adar asked and you gave him a mysterious smile.

“I have a business in Eregion.”

Indeed you had. Mairon was gone but not all of his ideas were. You were truly fascinated by his dream of crafting The Rings of Power but… you had killed your smith, therefore you needed a new one.

And who would be better for this task than Lord Celebrimbor himself? You just had to show up in Eregion as a fair Elven maiden and build his trust slowly, a century after century… And then, using some perfectly crafted and prepared beforehand opportunity, you would push him into the right direction.

You would have your Rings.

Your Ring.

And you did not need Mairon for any of that. It would just take slightly longer time but at least you did not have to bow to anyone or share your power.

Adar could see that you did not want to answer his questions any further, so he only nodded at you but he kept staring at you with squinted eyes.

Like you had planned, you did. Changed your appearance into one of the most beautiful Elven women in all Middle-earth and showed up in Eregion, claiming to come all this way from Mirkwood to learn Lord Celebrimbor’s craft.

The Mirkwood Elves were the most secluded kin, therefore no one was surprised to see you for the first time in their lives. But for that very reason you were also not trusted much in the beginning. That was no problem. You had time. All eternity.

Step by step, you began your journey. At first you were humble and compassionate without even seeing Lord Celebrimbor much. But as centuries passed, you were getting promotion after promotion until you found yourself being the very right hand of the Lord of Eregion.

Your backstory of coming from Mirkwood was useful in a different way, too – whenever you would go to The Southlands to check on Adar and your army, Elves of Eregion believed that you were visiting your family in Mirkwood.

Everything seemed to go well and according to your plan… Well, almost.

You could still sense him. Mairon. Even after leaving the cursed fortress where he had been slain, you could still feel his presence. You told no one about it, not even Adar. You had a feeling it was caused by the bond you shared with him through your blood but should you truly feel anything if he was dead?

You could sense which feelings were yours and which were unfamiliar to you and strange – those were undoubtedly his. And the main sensation you could feel in the back of your own, always creeping in the shadows of your soul like an unwanted guest was… hunger. Deep and primal starvation.

You tried to ignore that eerie sensation because you would go crazy if you tried to fight it or overthink it. However, late at night, when you were pretending to be asleep or studying the projects of the Rings that Mairon had left behind, you could feel it growing and growing inside of you. And your iron wedding ring that had been re-forged into a necklace seemed to burn your skin at those moments, too. But you never took it off for it was supposed to be a souvenir of a life you had once lived; of a previous Age.

You were quite sentimental despite your evil nature.

And when the light of the Elves began to fade in Middle-earth, you were frustrated and terrified that you were running out of time. If Celebrimbor was about to leave this realm, you would lose all those years of progress and preparations.

And who else would craft you such Rings? The dwarves? Would your next form be of a dwarf, trying to infiltrate Khazad-dûm?

You did not even want to think of such a possibility.

Thankfully, Celebrimbor was not eager to leave Middle-earth. He felt as if what he had done was not enough. He wanted to be remembered as the greatest Elf of this Age; the greatest smith for sure. The forge kept working throughout the crisis and at the very same time Adar finally managed to turn The Southlands into the new land.

Therefore, you left Eregion with an excuse to visit your family in Mirkwood. The times for the Elves were very challenging, so no one was angry at you for wanting to see your made up mother and siblings.

In fact, you hurried to The Southlands and you were truly in awe of what your Lieutenant had done to this place.

“How do you wish me to name it, my Lady?” Adar asked as you two were taking a walk amongst the ashes.

“Mordor,” you smirked at him.

“The Land of Shadow,” Adar nodded. “Why?”

“Mairon used to describe my heart this way,” you explained and Adar rolled his eyes slightly but he did not comment.

You continued your walk in silence. For a short while now, the eerie feeling from the back of your soul had been surprisingly gone and that sudden change was worrying to you. But perhaps after all those centuries of dying down slowly, Mairon’s spirit was truly gone now, leaving an oddly empty space within you…

“Do you miss him?” Adar asked suddenly and you shot him a scolding glance.

“Sometimes,” you answered truthfully. “I do not regret what I have done but we shared a long history and a powerful bond that went above our blood pact. He will remain a part of me in perpetuity.”

“My condolences,” Adar remarked and you snorted at his words.

In the evening of that day, you hopped onto your horse and went back to Eregion where surprisingly everything seemed to still be working and all the Elves were happier than ever.

“My dear (Y/N)!” Celebrimbor greeted you with open arms as you hugged him back, confused. “What you have missed, my friend, you will not believe it.”

“I can see that I must have missed something important indeed,” you mumbled.

“Come, let me show you,” Celebrimbor walked you to his forge and showed you the papers scattered all over his desk.

Those were projects of… the Rings.

Three Elven Rings for the Elven Kings. You froze at the sight of the drawings and the very familiar concepts.

“You… You came up with that idea to save our kin all by yourself, my friend?” You asked Celebrimbor. “They are the most exquisite,” you hummed to yourself.

“Oh, no, I…” Celebrimbor laughed nervously. “Well, Lady Galadriel came here and she brought a very special man with her. He was some sort of a human king, I do not know the details,” he shrugged his arms. “Either way, he was an enormous aid to me.”

“Are the drawings his?” Your heart skipped a beat at the revelation as your eyes studied the projects even more thoroughly.

“Yes. Some of them,” Celebrimbor nodded.

“I would like to meet him,” you clenched your jaw, trying your best to hide your nervousness.

“I am afraid that will be impossible, my dear. He is gone and Lady Galadriel claims he will never return. Even if he does, I have made my promise to her to never treat with him again,” Celebrimbor explained.

“I do wonder why,” you smirked to yourself but your hands turned cold when you realised it could have been him – your husband. Back in Middle-earth and so close to you.

He was the only one except for you who knew about the idea of the Rings. The idea was his, after all. And the lines of the drawings were like the ones you kept hidden inside your chambers that had been made by Mairon.

But what was even the meaning of all of this? You had spent centuries in Eregion, still too afraid to even mention the possibility of forging any Ring yet and he showed up and pushed Celebrimbor into making the Rings… just like that?!

“That man… Did he assist you in making those Rings?” You asked your friend and Celebrimbor shook his head with a sour expression.

“No, no… He only gave me an idea and helped me to find the way,” he answered and you nodded.

“Now, when the Elves are safe... Do you not think that perhaps other races would need such items, too?” You teased, carefully.

“(Y/N), my dear…” Celebrimbor laughed nervously and put his hands upon your shoulders. “Let us celebrate this victory first and leave the worry for some other day. Tell me, my friend, how is your family in Mirkwood?”

You were organising Celebrimbor’s papers inside his office while he watched with content how his smiths worked in the forge, drinking tea and smiling to himself. Your peace was interrupted by the smith Mirdania who gathered her skirts and walked up to Celebrimbor’s study.

“That human king… Halbrand. He is back,” she announced and you raised your head immediately.

“Well, tell him to go away,” Celebrimbor avoided her gaze. “In a polite manner, of course. I believe you can come up with something.”

“But… My Lord–” she started.

“I shall do it,” you stood up and nodded at him. “This way, we will get rid of him like Lady Galadriel asked but I will also meet the man who helped you to craft such wonders,” you smiled and Celebrimbor nodded.

You walked past Mirdania and all the way down to the gates of Eregion with your heart growing heavy with each step. Your blood ran cold as you could sense him indeed.

Your husband. Your nemesis.

He was back.

All the questions about how and why were unnecessary. You knew him too well and for the past centuries you had been feeling that what you had done to kill him truly had not been enough. Therefore, you were not as surprised as others would be.

But it still felt wrong and gut-twisting to see him again. The very last time you had seen him he had been a dead body laying in the puddle of his blood after your treachery.

Approaching the gates, you spotted a ragged man of human species with dark hair and dirty tunic. You would never recognise your husband in that person if it was not for the strong feeling in your heart that he was no one else but Mairon.

His back was turned on you but you saw his body freezing when you stood there. He sensed your presence, too.

He turned around, slowly, as you watched with curiosity. His form was different now and the hair colour was not the only thing that changed. His eyes, his nose, his lips, even his height were different. But despite the brand new form, he was Mairon.

He was your husband and you would recognise him anywhere.

And you were his wife and he would recognise you, too. Your form differed now from the one he had remembered as well. Those were not the very same hands that had slain him; yet they belonged to the same person.

“Lord Celebrimbor regrets to inform you he’s unable to grant you entry,” you told him, playing your role as well as you could under such circumstances.

Short silence occurred.

“Mightn’t I speak with him directly?” He asked and shrugged his arms, deciding to play his role, too.

“My Lord is occupied,” you explained, “but he wishes you good fortune on your journey,” you added and turned around to walk away, feeling your hands beginning to tremble.

“What a beautiful necklace it is that you have, my Lady. Was it a gift perhaps? From someone special to you?” He asked and you stood still, closing your eyes and sighing before turning around to face him once more.

“From an old friend who is long gone now,” you forced your lips to curl up and form a smile. “Are you not leaving?”

“I’ll just wait here,” he informed you. “Just in case the Lord of Eregion changes his mind.”

He will not, you wanted to say, I will make sure of it.

But you could not because that would be highly suspicious to treat him this way and the guards were standing there. Therefore, you only nodded and went back to Celebrimbor, feeling the necklace on your chest burning your skin to the point where tears of pain formed in your eyes.

You were trying to make Celebrimbor remember the promise he had made to Lady Galadriel and many times you mentioned to him how dirty and filthy you had found the human king named Halbrand. Mirdania, on the other hand, seemed to be enamoured with your husband’s new form and she was his greatest advocate.

“I am retiring to my chambers,” you informed Celebrimbor on that night after working for a few hours with him and Mirdania. “I suggest you two do the same, it has been a long and tiresome day.”

“And the night is so cold,” Mirdania sighed, looking out of the window.

You ignored her and smiled at Celebrimbor before going to your chambers and locking the doors behind you. The very first thing you did was to take off the necklace around your neck but when you did, you spotted a burn mark in the shape of it.

You focused on healing yourself but no amount of your powers was enough to heal it.

“What is going on…?” You muttered to yourself. You were a being much too powerful to fail at healing your form from such a minor injury.

Nothing seemed to work, though. Frustrated, you put the necklace back on to hide the scar with it and you changed into your nightgown.

As a Maia, you did not need sleep. But lots of the nights you were actually laying in bed and taking naps, because there were not many things you could do. And tonight you had to think of a new plan because Mairon’s return was not a part of your perfect scenario.

If only you had your crown with you, you would just take it, go downstairs and stab him with it again. But your crown was in Mordor, under Adar’s protection. Taking an item so dark and powerful to Eregion would make some of the Elves sense its disturbing presence.

But the crown itself apparently would not be enough. You needed allies. And as you tossed and turned in your bed, you were thinking of the Rings crafted by Celebrimbor. If they were not corrupted by Mairon, you could use them to help you.

Your train of thought was interrupted by a rapid knocking upon your doors. You groaned slightly and stood up to open the doors, expecting to see Mirdania in them, pleading for you to help her convince Celebrimbor to show mercy to the human king waiting by the gates. She had made such an attempt many times on that day already.

But when you opened the doors, you realised that she did not need your aid to succeed because she apparently had already convinced Celebrimbor to allow Halbrand inside Eregion.

There he stood, face-to-face with you. In yet another form but this one did not differ that much from the previous one. His ears were pointy now and Elven, his hair was blond and long. He was no longer ragged and dirty but seemed to radiate the light of Valinor and only a creature as dark as you could sense how twisted and corrupted the illusion was.

His robes were grey and humble, especially compared to yours. Even though you were in nothing but your nightgown, your clothes were the most exquisite. In the very early days you had been a disciple of Vairë The Weaver and ever since you had always had a taste for beautiful fabrics.

“Mairon…” You whispered, taking a step back because his presence was so overlooming that you could not do anything else but retreat.

“Wife,” he greeted you through gritted teeth and entered your chambers before shutting the doors closed.

“What is it with the new form? Are you trying to deceive Celebrimbor like this?” You snorted, nervously. “I shall reveal the truth to him.”

“You will not because you would have to tell him the truth about yourself, too. And that is something you will simply not do,” Mairon smirked and walked around your room. He froze at the sight of his drawings on your desk. The old ones, from the First Age. “So, that is why you are here.”

“And you? Why?” You asked and crossed your arms. “Why are you back with the living, dark spirit? Must you torment me so?”

“Torment you?” He asked, angrily, as his eyes filled with pure rage and hatred.

Before you could react, his hand was wrapped around your throat and you were pinned to the wall with his burning eyes right in front of yours as his eyelashes brushed your cheeks and you felt his hot breath on your parted lips.

“It is you who tormented me. Who betrayed me and slain me,” he drawled out.

“And you should thank me for it,��� you smirked even though you were losing oxygen. You did not need it but it was still a slight inconvenience to your flesh.

“Thank you? I shall kill you, witch,” his grasp tightened.

“If you were not reborn, you would still be that pathetic and weak Mairon I remember. But you are different now. You have changed,” you pointed out and he let go of your throat but his eyes remained cold and empty; two black abysses observing your every movement as if he was a predator watching his prey.

“The change was required. The centuries I have spent on regaining my strength, I was driven by nothing but my desire for revenge. My hatred for you,” he spat out.

“Liar,” you were quick to answer. “All I could sense was hunger. And even now, I see you do not wish to see me slain. Otherwise, you would have already killed me.”

“Oh, sweet wife, you will not know the day nor the hour. I am all in for the dramatics just like you were,” he remarked.

“You are nobody, Mairon. Sauron. I am the one the Uruk follow and I am the one for whom Mordor is being prepared to rule over. I am the very foundation of this whole realm and I am its future,” you took a deep breath in as you stated. “You are nothing but a forgotten shadow that no one wants to follow, not even the filthiest of the creatures.”

“I am your husband,” Mairon’s fury won over his flesh once more as he grabbed you with all force by your arm. “And if I am nobody as you claim, you will forever be stained by being bound to a man like me.”

“You should have stayed dead, Mairon. I will turn your life into hell,” you threatened, your anger amplified by his as they mixed in your veins. “Do try to remember the suffering our master had put you through and I shall be worse. I will destroy you for good this time. I will tear you apart, piece by piece and torture every inch of you until you beg me to release you from your pathetic life forever but for each plea I will prolong the pain,” you drawled out and he grabbed you by your hair to pull on it as his fist tangled in your hair.

“You are only giving me ideas on how to get rid of you, treacherous vixen,” he whispered maliciously into your face. “The bane of my existence,” he added angrily as his empty eyes looked you up and down, stopping for a moment on your parted lips.

And then he kissed you. Eagerly and passionately, not letting go of your hair at all but pulling on it even harder and making your head throw back as your teeth clashed.

You clinged to his robes with your fists, trying to push him away but he was too strong for you to be able to do so. His free hand tore your nightgown off of your body as if he was a wild animal using his claws to get to what he craved the most.

You whined and he broke the kiss, holding your hair in his fist and twisting it to make you wince out of pain.

“Why did you betray me?” He asked, looking deep into your eyes and even though his expression was terrifying, you could sense his pain.

“I could have asked you the same, Mairon. Why did you betray me, husband?” You whimpered, searching for an answer in his eyes but he seemed to be confused that you were accusing him of such things. “We were supposed to rule together as equals but you were too greedy, my love, too eager. Yet, you were not fit to rule, not yet. So desperate to prove your worth.”

“Shut it,” Mairon growled and looked down at your naked body and the torn nightgown at your feet. “Are you not the most vain? The form you took as an Elf is so beautiful –  too beautiful. How can they not think of it as suspicious?”

“And you? Are you not vain, too?” You snorted at him and he let go of your hair, pushing you away and making your back hit the wall.

Mairon grabbed your necklace and tore it off of you to throw it on the ground as well, revealing your burn mark. He smirked at it before putting his hands on your naked hips and pulling you closer to his body. His lips placed wet and open-mouth kisses all around your neck where the scar was and you could feel it healing as his fingers were digging deep into your bones and pulling you harder and harder into him, the harsh fabric of his robes irritating your soft and sensitive now-Elven skin.

The sensation of his lips around your neck and the pain from his rough treatment excited you. It had been centuries after the last time you had given in to the desires of your flesh.

It had been centuries after you had experienced such desires at all. Apparently, it was only him who could awaken them within you.

You whined and moaned, reaching with your hands to cup his face and to bring his lips close to yours once more. This time it was you initiating the hungry and teeth-clashing kiss.

“I have lost centuries because of you, witch,” Mairon whispered after you broke the kiss. “You humiliated me. You betrayed me. You slaughtered me. I bled out. I fought each given moment to survive in the very depths of that cursed fortress. I spent ages on regaining my strength as a shadow with no heart, no limbs – merely a mind. Yet, a woman like you is worth the sacrifice. If it was your wish for me to be reborn into a man worthy of you, let it be then,” he breathed out and you let out a twisted laugh.

“Just like my old Mairon,” you caressed his new cheeks. “New face, new body, new powers… The very same pathetic devotion,” you chuckled and pushed him down onto your bed.

You crawled up on top of him with a grin, your hair falling down on his face as he gasped and you treated his robes with gentleness similar to the way he had treated your nightgown with – you tore them off of him and threw them on the floor.

“If you wish to follow me, my sweet Mairon,” you raised an eyebrow as you lowered yourself on his hard length, hissing at the feeling you had nearly forgotten, “you will follow me as my most humbled Lieutenant. You will bow down at my feet and pledge your allegiance to your Queen,” you began to roll your hips, which brought you great pleasure but to him it was nothing but a tease. His lips parted and cheeks blushed as your grin grew even wider. “Say it, my love. Tell me that you will.”

Short while of hesitation occurred. But when you began to clench the muscles of your cunt willingly to squeeze his cock as you circled your hips, he whined and nodded.

“I promise,” he breathed out.

You knew his words were not genuine but you enjoyed playing with him for now.

“I will make you my dog, Sauron,” you called him with the name he was known as amongst the Elves. The dirty name, spoken out like filth. You watched him swallow the lump in his throat when your hips stopped rolling and started to bounce slowly on his cock as you placed your hands behind you on his thighs to steady yourself. “Say it,” you ordered, harshly.

“I will be your dog,” he winced at the feeling of your cunt clenching around him and sucking in all the precum he had spilled already from your ministrations. “I will crawl on my knees after you, kiss the ground you walked on, build altars for you and make others worship you, too. This will be my purpose; the only war I will fight for you. The holy war to convert all the unbelievers.”

“Aw, you’re so sweet, my Mairon,” you admitted and leaned in to kiss his lips while putting one of your hands on his chest now as your hips picked up their pace. It was nearly brutal now how you were fucking him and you could feel your own high coming, too. But it never ended with one with your husband. “If you truly will be as good as you promise me to be, I will let you reside between my legs and lick my cunt in return,” you teased, “for as long as you wish, my sweet.”

To see you pleased with him was all he had ever wanted. Therefore, it was no surprise that your words were enough to make him fill you up that very moment as you threw your head back, laughing, straightening your back and continuing to ride him as if nothing had happened.

He whined and whimpered for a while, which you ignored, determined to reach your high as well. And it did come shortly after but by that time he was hard yet once more and that was how it had always been between you two – once you started, it was nearly impossible to stop.

However, when the dawn came, you had to put a halt to your desires, because you both had your duties around Eregion. As the sun rose, you left your husband casually as if you hadn’t just reached yet another one of your highs and you opened the wardrobe to pick the gown for the day, leaving him behind.

He rolled onto his side and rested his head on his elbow as he watched you with squinted eyes, his hair a ruffled mess and his cheeks still blushing. He was a sight, indeed. He had always been.

“It was never your intention to share your power with me either, was it?” He asked and you snorted at that.

“Do not be a fool. Why would I ever do that?” You asked with contempt.

“You are not hurt by my betrayal. Only your pride is hurt that I dared to betray you first,” Mairon pointed out.

“You forget yourself. I have killed you once and I shall kill you again,” you reminded him and brushed your hair in a rush after putting the dress on.

And just like that, you left him inside your chambers to go on with your day with a smile.

Despite everything between you two, you were glad to have him back. He was treacherous and awful – absolutely the worst. And yet, your life without him had been quite lonely and empty. A dull grey.

And if there had to be only two creatures left in the world, you hoped it would be you and him. In perpetuity.

After running your morning errands, you walked inside the forge and froze at the sight of Mairon. He had his grey and humble robes back on with no trace of your fingers tearing them open a few hours earlier. Celebrimbor and Mirdania were standing next to him and they all laid their eyes upon you the moment you joined them.

“(Y/N), my dear. You will not believe me who our human king turned out to be,” Celebrimbor exclaimed, excitedly. “Come here, my friend. Let me introduce you to Annatar, the Lord of Gifts, the emissary of The Valar,” he beckoned you over and you approached them, trying very hard not to laugh. To see Mirdania’s eyes full of affection and admiration as she stared at your husband only intensified your need to laugh, but you managed to stop yourself.

“It is such an honour, my Lord. Forgive me for the way I treated you by the gates,” you bowed your head at him.

“There is no need, my Lady. Lord Celebrimbor has been telling me a lot about you. You are his most trusted friend,” he looked you up and down intensely although the smile he gave you was kind. Nearly sweet. “And the most beautiful Elven maiden I have ever laid my eyes upon, most certain,” he added to tease you as Celebrimbor cleared his throat and looked away, awkwardly, while Mirdania lowered her head.

“You are way too generous with your compliments, my Lord,” you only answered. “What is the purpose of your visit to Eregion?”

“Lord Annatar is here to help me with the Rings,” Celebrimbor joined the conversation again immediately as his eyes sparkled.

“Are they not finished?” You furrowed your brows.

“No, no, my dear. Remember when you told me that perhaps we should craft more of them for other races that might be in need?” Celebrimbor asked.

“You did, my Lady?” Mairon raised his eyebrow at you with a very surprised expression, which made him look quite adorably innocent but you knew that he was teasing you and you had to fight an urge to roll your eyes.

“Mayhaps,” you only mumbled.

“Well, Lord Annatar is here to help me with these designs. You were right, my dear, we cannot abandon our friends in need no matter what kin they are,” Celebrimbor seemed to be content with this idea and you gritted your teeth.

You truly wanted to punch your husband right into that oh-so-innocent face as everyone would gasp and call you a monster. How dared he? You had spent centuries earning Celebrmbor’s trust and there he was, showing up in that blasphemous disguise and being the saviour of the day without any preparations; stealing and wooing the Lord of Eregion?

Therefore, a new and wicked idea bloomed inside of your mind.

To sabotage Mairon’s plan.

“Oh, really? Well, I’ve been thinking of it, my Lord. I do not think it is a good idea, after all, even though it was originally mine,” you told Celebrimbor and his smile dropped.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I do not think any other race is worthy of those rings. Who next? The Dwarves? And then? Humans? Once we agree to craft the rings for humans, we could as well craft them for the Orcs!” You exclaimed, dramatically.

Celebrimbor gasped and turned around as if he was rethinking his decision. Mirdania was not paying attention anymore to you and standing by the window, still jealous of the praise Lord Annatar had graced you with.

Therefore, your husband allowed himself to break the play for a moment and give you a deadly look, to which you replied with a wink.

The game had started and oh, how thrilling it was, how exciting to have an opponent.

And, in the end of it all, you would either kill him once more or end up dead yourself by his hand.

Or, perhaps, your love would only flourish in this environment of constant bickering and rivalry. Perhaps you would rejoin your souls and fates like you had rejoined your flesh on the night before.

Either way, the game was worth playing.

In perpetuity.

MASTERLIST