#i understand bits an ends of a lot of things

[moonstruckme]

First time request! I'd love a poly Jily fic based on the prompt "blood swirling down a shower drain." Maybe the reader just got back from a mission that went wrong and is kinda out of it, trying to wash everything off. James and Lily find them and refuse to let them deal with it alone, just soft, quiet comfort, lots of gentle touches, and reassuring words.🥹 Thanks!!

Thank you for requesting! This turned out so much angstier than I intended. I really don't know what happened but...I'm sorry? Or for the people who are always asking for angst I don't deliver, you're welcome I think? I don't know it just happened I wasn't on the decision-making panel

cw: blood (lots of blood), reader is a bit in shock, nonsexual nudity, death (of a minor canon character, not someone we really know and love), set in canon so there's death eaters/the order/etc., quite angsty (for me at least) but there is comfort I promise

poly!Jily x fem!reader ♡ 1.4k words

James and Lily are cuddling when you come home. Well, they’re sort of just holding each other and trying to pass it off as cuddling. Any one of you going out on an assignment for the Order always makes nervous wrecks of the two left behind, but Lily and James doing their best to distract themselves, a film on the television and each trying not to look like they’re glancing out the window every minute. 

The crack of apparition outside puts an abrupt end to the facade. 

They’re both up in an instant, but Lily puts a hand to James’ chest when he goes for the door. “Wait,” she says. She leaves a spot of blood on his shirt from where she’s picked the skin by her nail down to nothing. 

James’ heart revolts, but he listens. They both listen, until they hear the two-three-two knock that means it’s you. 

Lily manages to move faster than him. She has both the muggle and magical locking mechanisms undone in an instant, opening the door to you. 

To you, absolutely drenched in red. 

It’s in your hair; it stains your clothes; it cakes your face and your neck and your hands. There’s hardly an inch of you left clean. James can’t comprehend it. Was there…was there an explosion of some sort? Did you get splattered by something? He feels sick. 

“Is that blood?” Lily’s voice is admirably steady. 

You nod. “Yeah.” 

James really feels sick. 

“Are you hurt?” She reaches for you, bringing you inside. You move like your body weighs a thousand pounds. 

“No, I’m—it’s old. I’m fine. Remus fixed it.” 

“Good old Moony,” James croaks. It’s meant to be a joke, but truly, he’d love to fly to Remus and Sirius’ flat right now to give his friend the hug of his life. If only there weren’t things for James to take care of here first. 

“What happened, sweetheart?” Lily asks, running a gentle hand up your arm. Blood flakes under her touch. 

“They were waiting for us.” Your voice is low, like it’s the sort of truth that becomes worse once said aloud. Your eyes look bigger and brighter in the midst of all the mess. James wants desperately to hug you, and yet—shamefully—he’s afraid of touching you; like despite what you say, he might find you less whole than you were when you left a few hours ago. “It was just supposed to be Dolohov there, but there were a lot of them. They knew we were coming.” 

“They did this to you?” 

“It…I…” Your gaze moves from Lily, to James, back to Lily again. You look exhausted, haunted, but worried beneath that. A moment later, James understands why. “It was Severus.” 

Lily reacts as though you’ve hit her. Her expression looks like a heart cracked open, but she doesn’t let go of your arm. 

“He used this spell,” you tell her, seeming sorry to do it, “that opens cuts all over the other person’s body. Remus was able to figure a counter-curse before I bled out. I don’t think Severus was aiming for me…” 

Even looking at your face, James is unsure of whether you mean that. The odds that Snape would try to hurt you seem equally as likely to him as those that he wouldn’t. You may only be trying to protect Lily. She looks so devastated, James wants to wrap you both up and never let you go again. 

Something Lily and James have always had in common is how they love. They may not always show it in the same ways, but once they’ve chosen someone, that’s it; they’ll live and die for them. They give away their whole hearts. James has just been luckier in who he’s chosen to give his to. His first love—outside of his family, of course—was Sirius. Lily’s was Snape. 

But, as much as James loves Lily, if Snape showed up on your doorstep right now James thinks he would kill him. 

“I’m sorry,” Lily says to you, her eyes shining. 

“It’s okay.” You extricate yourself gently from her grasp. “I’m going to shower.” 

“Sweetheart…” James reaches for you, but you ghost past his hands, only mumbling again, “It’s okay.” 

Nothing’s okay. Lily’s looking after you like her heart’s been cracked open. From the sound of it, you actually were cracked open for a while. There’s a fracture between the three of you that James doesn’t know how to fix. But certainly he’s going to try. 

“Come on.” He takes Lily’s hand, encouraging her down the hall with him. When she comes, he wraps an arm around her shoulders to kiss her hair. “It’s alright. Come on, lovely.” 

The shower is already running when they open the bathroom door. James shuts it behind them before starting to strip, and Lily’s questioning look only lasts a moment before she’s doing the same. He sets his glasses on the counter. 

“Hi,” he says, pulling the shower curtain open enough to pop his head in. You look surprised, which is a surprise in itself; you must really be lost in your own head not to have heard them enter. “Room for two more in here?” 

There is, of course, room—as if James would ever let you get a place without a shower big enough for three—but still he’s relieved when you nod. He steps the rest of the way in, making room for Lily to squeeze in behind him. You seem to have scrubbed your face clean and now are letting the water do the work on the rest of you. Blood swirls down the shower drain. 

James steps closer, giving you long seconds to back away, to let your face reveal hesitation or denial, before he kisses you. Slowly. Warmly. You soften like butter in the sun, arms coming around him as his do you. 

“Didn’t get to do that properly when you got home,” James murmurs after your lips part. 

“Yeah,” you breathe. 

He fights to keep his lips from twitching at the now-familiar dazed quality to your tone. It is taking every ounce of his concentration to not think too hard about the two stunning women he’s sharing a shower with right now. 

Since Lily is no longer up to being the asker of questions, James gives it a whirl. “Do you want to tell us any more about what happened tonight?” 

Your eyes go weary and somber. He sees your throat bob as if around something painful. “We, um. We lost Edgar.” 

Lily makes a wounded sound. “Bones?” 

James has already drawn you into a hug. You nod against his chest, choking out a weak, “Yeah.” 

“Was it…”

“It was Lestrange,” you answer before Lily has to finish asking. Not Snape. She breathes out. 

“I’m so sorry,” she says, joining your hug. Water runs in rivulets down the three of you, transferring from one body to the other, off James’ nose and Lily’s hair and your chin, pooling in all the places you’re pressed together. James fights an ache in his own throat. You’d all known Edgar, but only you watched him die. This is a grief he and Lily can only share in parts of. 

There’s lots more kisses and murmuring before you get to the business of washing. James runs you over with a soapy cloth while Lily shampoos your hair, the both of them making sure no inch of you goes unseen to. Remus has done a good job; there are no scars where Snape’s curse tore you open. As the blood clears away, James can’t tell where it originated from at all. 

He tells you how happy they are to have you home. You smile at his exaggerated jokes about separation anxiety and squeeze his hand when he presses a thumb into the corner of it, chuffed with himself. Lily apologizes again for Snape, and you both promise her she’s not responsible for him until it seems almost like she believes it. James is kicked out of the shower in disgrace after mistaking your body wash for conditioner. He warms towels in the dryer while Lily works the tangles out of your hair with her fingers. 

When you go to bed, you’re still as exhausted as you were when you came home. You move like your body weighs a thousand pounds, and there’s a haunted look about your eyes, and you don’t seem up to saying much. But you curl up with James’ chest to your back and Lily’s leg draped across your own, and you’re loved, and that counts for something.

[lieyarzy]

"The Demon Hunters spill the tea on the girl who captivated the Saja Boys."

🎤Wherein the HUNTR/X are interviewed and asked what they think about the Manager of Saja Boys

🎤Author is also thinking of creating a new scenario and is asking your thoughts about it.(read at the end)

🎤Proofread? What’s that…

(Rumi's Interview)

• Interviewer: "Rumi, as the leader of HUNTR/X, what are your initial thoughts on Y/N, the Saja Boys' manager?"

• Rumi: (Smiling slightly) "At first glance, she seems…unassuming. The kind of person you'd easily overlook. But there's a quiet strength about her, a resilience that’s captivating. She handles those chaotic boys with such grace. It's almost…magical."

• Interviewer: "Magical? Do you think there's more to her than meets the eye?"

• Rumi: (Pauses, thoughtful) "Maybe. There's a certain…aura around her. Something that's hard to define, but undeniably present. The Saja Boys are clearly drawn to it. And honestly? I understand why."

(Mira's Interview)

• Interviewer: "Mira, known for your sharp observations, what's your take on Y/N?"

• Mira: (Leaning forward, intrigued) "She's fascinating. She's incredibly composed under pressure, always one step ahead. She knows how to handle those demons…I mean, the Saja Boys. She's got a subtle way of controlling the situation without ever raising her voice. It's impressive."

• Interviewer: "Impressive, or something more?"

• Mira: (A sly smile) "Maybe a little bit of both. She’s definitely got something special. And the way those boys look at her…it speaks volumes."

(Zoey's Interview)

• Interviewer: "Zoey, you're known for your cheerful personality. What's your impression of Y/N?"

• Zoey: (Eyes sparkling) "She's so pretty! And so kind! She always has a smile for everyone, even when things are hectic. She’s like a calming presence amidst the chaos. The Saja Boys are lucky to have her."

• Interviewer: "Do you think there’s a romantic connection between Y/N and the Saja Boys?"

• Zoey: (Giggles) "Maybe? I think they all secretly adore her. It's really sweet to watch."

🎬

After the interviews, the HUNTR/X members were leaving the studio when they coincidentally bumped into Y/N near the elevator. The air crackled with a palpable tension – a mix of curiosity and a shared awareness of the unspoken connection between Y/N and the Saja Boys. Zoey, ever the cheerful one, was the first to speak, her voice brimming with a mixture of awe and excitement.

"Wow! You're Y/N, right? We're HUNTR/X!" she exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with genuine admiration.

Y/N, ever composed, smiled warmly. "It's a pleasure to meet you all," she replied, her voice calm and reassuring. "I've heard a lot about your work."

Mira, ever observant, stepped forward, her gaze intense yet respectful. "We've noticed…the Saja Boys seem rather…attached to you," she remarked, her tone a subtle blend of curiosity and playful teasing.

Y/N chuckled, a soft, melodic sound that seemed to disarm even Mira's sharp wit. "They're a handful," she admitted, a hint of amusement in her voice. "But they have good hearts."

Rumi, the leader, stepped forward, her gaze steady and thoughtful. "We've seen how you handle them," she said, her voice respectful. "It's... impressive. There's a strength about you that's hard to miss."

Y/N's smile widened slightly. "Thank you," she replied, her eyes meeting Rumi's with a hint of understanding. "It takes a village, as they say. And sometimes, even a village needs a little…magic." She paused, her eyes twinkling. "Perhaps we'll cross paths again soon."

With a shared nod of mutual respect, the HUNTR/X members and Y/N parted ways, leaving behind an unspoken sense of intrigue and a shared understanding.

P.S Author is thinking of writing a story wherein Y/N is a demon herself but the plot twist is she is a daughter of a friend of Gwi-Ma and kind of become the favorite of Gwi-Ma, which makes her older than the rest, she’s also a kpop-idol(solo) so after the Saja Boys plan to take over the “world” she kind of helped them gained fans and helped them get used to being in the human world and then…I don’t know what I’m talking about LMAO

[linnlarsnhansn]

SKAM 10 year anniversary podcast -

English translation

NRK is celebration a decade of Skam (😭) with a nine episode podcast. You can listen here

I'm collaborating with @kosegruppie who will be posting my translations and make subtitled videos with them. Make sure to follow them here on insta for all the latest!

Below the cut you'll find the transcript of the first episode (I've skipped a few summaries, the radio hosts watching the show etc, but all cast and crew interviews are there!). Enjoy!

From 03:50 

Torkil Risan: It’s hard to measure that kind of thing, but Skam has to be Norway’s biggest tv show success. It was a small productio with low budget, had unknown actors and no traditional marketing. But the show would go on to break streaming records, set the agenda for public debate and take part in changing the language both in Norway and abroad. It would change the lives of many young people and entertain hordes of adults, and not only in Norway, no. There were people using their free time to translate the Norwegian episodes to a steadily growing international audience. Episodes were downloaded both illegally and, well only illegally really. But whatever. People all over the world were watching Skam. Skam has, up until this point, nine international adaptations, with Sram in Croatia as the latest one - it came out in October 2024. And all of this, that is the Norwegian original version, is created, written and directed by one person - Julie Andem. 

JA: It became very difficult after a while to film and keep the storylines secret, because we were recorded wherever we went. Especially the outdoor scenes. Like at Nissen there were suddenly hordes of fans from all over the world when we were supposed to film, so that made it a bit difficult.    

TR: And you can’t picture what it would become like when unknown 16 and 17 year olds get cast in a new show at NRK.

JA: Before these actors got their roles, at the last round of auditions, I had a talk with each one of them where I said: “I don’t know how big this show will become, it can become nothing, but it might become big. And if it becomes big and you become famous, you give away part of your freedom - the freedom to be anonymous to people. Today, when you’re on the bus, having a bad day, no one bothers you. But after you’ve become famous, people will walk up to you and want to talk to you and you can’t get away from that. When I call you next week and give you the role, if I do, I’ll ask if you’ve thought that over, and what you think of it - because you have to think that over now.” And I said that to each one of them before they got their parts. And then I think it was Josefine who said, we talked later about what I had said, that she thought “that lady is delusional. She’s making a small P3 show”. My talk went in one ear and out the other. 

JA: It’s hard to imagine things like this for people that haven’t experienced success like that, and what it demands of you afterwards. And the freedom you lose to be anonymous. It is a really difficult pressure and it can be challenging. We thought a lot about it throughout and one of the main reasons that we ended Skam when we did, was because of that pressure on the young actors.

TR: Is this an ongoing conversation with the cast? 

JA: I always think - there’s no one outside of it who understands what we experienced with Skam. So the best ones to talk to, always, about these things are the cast and the production team, who understand it and have the same feelings. 

TR: That Skam also changed the lives of those who created it, we’ve established. I am curious about how Julie Andem, who has no clue how big the show is going to become, created these characters?

JA: As I remember it, I did loads of research with the target group to understand what that group, girls in Norway aged 16, needed, what stories it needed. And I think my goal was to develop 10 characters who could fit into a universe about them. That’s where I started. And the plan was that all the characters would develop in a way that they could carry their own season. So all of them were developed as main characters. I created them before the seasons, before the storylines. 

TR: In September it’ll be ten years since Skam was released. It was released more like an event than a traditional tv show. Short clips could be dropped at any point during the week and people in the show posted on social media. It was Mari Magnus who was responsible for these digital updates. 

MM: All the characters, even if they don’t have open accounts on social media, have a bunch of email addresses. I have a box full of sim cards and burner phones. Everyone had a facebook account. They were private, but it was so that it would feel a little real if you searched “Isak Valtersen”.

TR: Someone else that became well known to the audience, was media professor Vilde Schanke Sundet. She saw the format as unique enough that she had to start doing research on Skam while it was still possible. 

VSS: I binged the entire first season one night. I remember laying in the cosy corner at home, watching on the ipad. I went to bed at 2:30 am and thought “now I understand what they are talking about”. I was interested in analysing it the same way researchers have been interested in analysing multimedia storytelling - how the story is built, how you make the different components, what it is NRK wants with this show, what it is trying to tell. And you become so drawn into the story that the ability to analyse goes a bit up and down through the different seasons. 

TR: What makes Skam different from other tv shows?

VSS: There’s both things that make it very different and things that are very similar. Because the dramatic curves are similar to other dramas we know of. It’s love triangles, good vs evil, the struggle to find yourself, all things similar to the high school/coming of age genre. And it’s well made, but that’s not what’s groundbreaking. The groundbreaking part is how the story is told. You're doing it real time, so if you’re following the blog it will appear very close. You never know when something is coming. It’s unpredictable, it drags people in. It’s based on the needs of the audience. They did loads of research when developing the show and it appears closer when the setting is a Norwegian high school than an American one. That makes it different and innovative. I think all the fans know they are fictional characters, but they feel much more real because we are not sitting down in front of the tv to watch, they are just there in your everyday life. It’s much more at the top of your mind than other things you watch and put behind you until the next episode is released. 

TR: The way Skam was created made it special. But that was not the most important part for Morten Hegseth. 

MH: The format has been given too much credit. It was a good format to post clips in that way, but the reason it was so good was that the content was amazing. It wasn’t the publishing strategy that made Skam an international phenomenon. 

(Skip to 13:26)

TR: Before they created Skam, the show creator Julie Andem and a few others made in depth interviews with young people in the target group. And the challenges Eva has in season 1, was pretty common with the group. 

JA: What is that life like? When you’re coming from secondary school, where you have a friend group and a familiar and safe environment and you’re thrown into a new universe. Everything is starting over and you have to find your place again. But she starts out as a girl who has become totally dependent on her boyfriend. She’s been thrown out of the friend group because of the choice she’s made to be together with her boyfriend, with Jonas, and that makes her dependent on him. 

TR: A successful way to independence is to become friends with a confident, stylish and cool new girl, like Noora. That, despite being good in Spanish, isn’t as crazy about russ as the other girls Eva start’s to hang out with - Jente-Chris, Vilde and Sana, who has concrete plans to fix a spot on a russebuss. And there you have our girl gang. Do you, the listener, think they are cool? Are they supposed to be cool?

JA: Socially, in school, they are not a cool group. That’s what the first storyline is about. The Pepsi Max gang are the cool, pretty girls and the other girls are not so cool. But I think they are very cool.

TR: What about the boys, aren’t they cooler?

JA: Yeah, they do at least have cooler references and masks. I’s more important to them to be cool. So they might be “cooler”.  

TR: To actress Lisa Teige, it was a bit like starting a new school - moving from Bergen and start working as an actor in Skam. How much of Eva is really in Lisa? 

LT: In the beginning I felt very different from Eva, because she went through very different things, I thought at that time. But things like finding friends in high school, I do identify with. I didn’t have that boyfriend drama, at least so early on. But looking back at it now, I would say I see myself in a lot of the things Skam talks about. I’ve also been in girl drama, had partner problems and the vulnerability in finding new friends. But back then, I felt the need to be like “No! I’m not going through the same things as Eva right now”. But really I did eventually go through those things. 

TR: And like Eva, Lisa did find some good friends on Nissens’s school yard. 

LT: I remember I noticed they were a few years older than me. I thought they were incredibly cool. That was my first thought “shit, these are cool people with experience”. It felt very cool to be part of that group. And I have so many good memories from the set with all the girls together. Especially because there’s a lot of humor surrounding the Vilde and Chris characters. They improvised many funny parts and we were laughing so hard on set. The dynamics of the group was really good. 

TR: But Bergen, where Lisa is from, and Oslo are two different cities and they have different accents. 

LT: Some things were difficult for me, as someone from Bergen. Like when I was supposed to say vors (pre-game) for the first time, which I had never said before and I don’t think I had ever been to one. And they said vors in the Oslo dialect and it was so difficult for me. I had to call mum and dad back home to ask how I was supposed to say the word. 

TR: Eva is also one of the characters who is making out the most in the show. And here both Lisa and actor Marlon Langeland, who plays Jonas, got thrown into the deep end from the start. 

LT: We had a workshop before filming, where we got to know each other and we played some games, as warm up. But to start kissing that person is something totally different. I remember dreading that quite a lot, because we were making out the first day of filming. 

LT: And that’s the kind of thing you dread a lot, but when you first get going it’s very mechanical in a way. You don’t think about what you’re really doing and it’s like “can you place your hand there”, “turn a bit that way” and “make the kiss a bit more intense, because it looks good on camera”. 

(skip to 27:19)

TR: Mari Magnus mentioned The penetrators, the coolest russebuss at Nissen. 

MM: Penetrators has a song, that’s on Spotify and I don’t know if it has been said before, it probably has, but *whispers* it’s Tarjei. 

TR: That’s rapping?

MM: Yes. 

TR: So they guy singing lines like “Penetrators cums on your face, the weather report says flooding, it’ll rain cum”, that Tarjei Sandvik Moe, who plays Isak. Tarjei went to Nissen himself during this time and managed to sneak in several references to actual things going on in the school. And to blur the lines between the fictional and reality was one of the show’s goals. To make the show as real as possible they had instagram accounts and could start chatting with each other on friday evenings. 

MM: It was a Friday evening and Julie was probably at work and we posted a photo on Jonas’ account, a Big Smalls reference, that he tagged Isak in. And we are logged into one account each, one on Isak’s, one on Jonas’. And we decided to have some fun in the comment section, hoping that maybe three people would see it, but that these three would have such a weird experience that they in school on Monday would say “You won’t believe what I say on instagram on Friday”. So Isak and Jonas drag Eva into it, but Eva is on a russebuss. And the audience is so cool, there are fans playing along and commenting things like “I saw you in the cafeteria today” “what did you get on your maths test?”. This is week two maybe, and those things we could do a bit more strategically at the start to get the engagement going.  

TR: It’s a bit slow in the beginning, but interest in Skam grows quite fast. So to chat as the characters on instagram becomes too difficult, there’s too many others taking part in the conversation. And some audience members were more engaged than others. One of them was Julian Dahl, who was very active in the comment section. Active enough to get mentioned in the show. 

TR: You’re living alongside these characters and sometimes that creates problems. Because Eva wants Jonas and Isak to go with her to the revy-party but they can’t. Why not?

Isak: We can’t

Jonas: Why not? 

Isak: The tickets to Kindred Fever. 

Jonas: I had totally forgotten that. 

TR: You’re excused if the name Kindred Fever doesn’t ring any bells. They had a mini hype right around the time when this was released and they happened to have a concert the same day as the revy-party. 

JA: The only reason we picked that concert was because it was Oslo that day. We just thought what band could they possibly be interested in that’s playing in Oslo that day?

TR: To make the right references is hard when you’re making a show. How do you know what 16 year old boys are saying, doing and would post? Sometimes Mari Magnus asked the actors to do it themselves. 

MM: In season one we sent Isak, Eva and Jonas out on the town with some phones and told them to make some content as if they were a friend group eating burgers in town. And they came home with loads of nice stuff we could post. 

(Skip to 33:40)

TR: I’m at your disposal - you can ask questions about the show and leave your thoughts and tips. There’s many easter eggs and symbolism in Skam that might be fun to dig deeper into if we come across it. There’s a messaging function on NRK radio. You could for example ask, like I asked Julie Andem, why is the show called Skam?

JA: We had loads of suggestions and we hung big sheets of paper at the auditions where they could write suggestions for the name of the show. And we got a lot of strange ones and Ingvild Marie Nyborg, who was on the team, came up with Skam and no one of us hated it, so that was the one. 

TR: Do you remember any of the ones you hated? 

JA: I remember “the 99:er gang”. 

TR: I’ve found some questions the fans are wondering by sneaking around in some of the many Skam online fan forums: Like, who in the Skam universe is Lisa Teige? 

LT: During the auditions I very much wanted to be Noora. Especially when I was 16 I thought Noora was super cool. But I do feel closest to Eva. I recognize myself in the insecurity and the fun parts and being someone with principles. It’s a boring answer, but it is Eva. That’s why I got to play her.  

[barleyo]

Frostbitten, Forbidden.

Hector Condicionado X F! Reader (smut)

A/N: another one shot with my favorite cretin. he's so lovely, i just want to eat him in one bite. hope you enjoy reading this!

Tags: dub-con, p in v, creampie, lots and lots and lots of dirty talk, sensory deprivation (eyesight)

Wordcount: 1.1k

Hector would do anything for you. He made it abundantly clear. From the moment you met him, or rather, from the moment he saw you, he knew he would make any sacrifice, any oblation, just to make you happy. No, he didn't want to make you happy—he wanted to keep you happy. A constant state of pleasure and contentment, all due to his own efforts. 

If you were tired, he would build you a bed frame with his bare hands. If you were bored, he would come up with a story to rival the telling of Shakespeare on the spot. Sad? Paw at his vent and tell him all about it. 

Fuck, he would slice his own palms and use the blood to write one of his novels for you if you wanted to do some light reading.

The only thing he couldn't do for you right now was turn up the heat. His only purpose, his one job, he simply couldn't do. Whether there was some sort of blockage in the air filters or a malfunctioning motor, nothing seemed to be working. 

Dead winter and not a single puff of air to ease your pain. 

It tore him up inside more than you would ever know, watching you toss and turn in bed, layering yourself in blankets that hardly helped. He tried for days to fix it himself. He borrowed tools from Tony, but hell if he knew what he was doing. Bang a wrench against the grate? Plead with the thermostat to co-operate? 

He felt like mold. Worse, actually. At least mold gave the world penicillin. What was he giving his beloved? Hypothermia? 

Your poor, freezing legs kicked under the thin covers in discomfort. He knew he had to do something, and he had an inkling of where his mind wanted to go, but it just seemed risky.

Then again, he'd take any risk to satisfy you. 

Your body was shaking inconsolably at this point. You were miserable. Days of straight ice and still air were starting to get to you. Truly, you were convinced it was colder outside your home than in it, but you wouldn't run the chance of finding out. You wanted nothing more than to drift into sleep, but it was too cold to even hope for a good night's rest. 

Just as you began to give up, you felt the bed dip beside you. That wasn't right. You lived alone. 

You tried to scream, but a quick hand covered your mouth. Was this the end? Jesus, why you?

"Hush, my love, it is I."

Oh. 

You slacked in Hector's grasp. You had heard his voice many times, and although it sounded a bit different outside of the vent, you still felt its comforting tones wash over you. That didn't change your confusion. Why was he out of the vent?

As if he could hear your thoughts clicking, he answered, "I couldn't stand to see you like this. Suffering, when I can do something about it."

You hummed against his palm in understanding. Your eyes flicked across the wall in front of you as you laid on your side. You wanted to flip over and see him. You tried to resist the urge, to respect his privacy, but your body acted on its own.

Hector quelled your movements sharply, firm hand turning your head to face the wall again. 

"You know I cannot have that." His calloused hand covered your eyes instead. He cupped his palm over them to keep you both literally and metaphorically in the dark about his appearances. "Don't focus on anything but my warmth. Let me help you, amor."

He hastily fidgeted with his belt, popping the buckle with overly eager hands. 

"Let me make everything up to you. Please."

"Don't you know what it does to me to have this power over you?" 

Hector had gotten much more into this than he thought he would. Obviously, a chance to get this close to you, to touch you, was heaven, but to have complete control?

This was the stuff of fantasy. 

Total domination, zero vulnerability. An opportunity to act on all the depraved things he had said to you in the vents without the fear of being judged for his looks? Sign him up.

"To have you at my mercy? To have all of your trust?" He bottomed out, pushing your face into your pillow. Gentle, as to not hurt his precious girl. "I've wanted this for so many moons. So much wasted time—god—if I knew it could be like this..."

You moaned a strangled little noise into the fluffy pillow. He hated not being able to hear the full extent of your pleasure, but there would be time for that another day.

"That's right," Hector said, voice syrupy and warm as he spoke to you, "I would've taken you much earlier."

His hands gripped your hips and forced them upwards. He dreamed about this. It nearly felt like deja vu, seeing as how he thought of bending you into these nasty positions many times before. It was almost too good to be true. 

"Maybe I would have snuck out of the wretched vent early in the morning to visit you." 

What a tease.

"Or maybe late at night. Late when you think nobody hears you, touching yourself in the dark." His hips stuttered. He didn't want to cum yet, not until you did. He wouldn't forgive himself if he messed up yet again. "I hear you. I hear every sound, every little noise you make. I turn the air up. Make it nice and loud, so nobody else gets to enjoy the show you put on."

Despite the slight uncomfortableness of the angle he put you in, you could see why he did it. He was hitting deep. Deep and purposeful. It was too much for you to handle, especially with his teasing. 

"If only you would have asked me for help. I would've been out in a heartbeat." 

A sexy, but flagrant lie. The sweet vent-dweller took to hiding deep in the vents when you masturbated, stroking himself recklessly while trying to silence his breathing. He was far too nervous to actually do anything about it and far too ashamed of eavesdropping. 

"Next time you need pleasure," he choked out, feeling your gummy walls flutter around him, "call for me."

If he had any shame in the current moment, he'd be horrified at how quickly he came after you. He was simply waiting for your body's permission before he blew.

"I'm always here for you, love."

[fanged-fanfics]

Can I request headcannons for transformers x gn human reader who said they could hold their whole world in their hands then gently cupping their face?

☆ The World In Your Palm — Transformers x GN Human Reader ☆

Genre: Fluff || they/them pronouns for reader || No warnings needed

A/N: Features Optimus, Ratchet, Bumblebee, Starscream, Soundwave, and Megatron

────��─.𖥔 ݁ ˖˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ──────

Optimus

ᯓᡣ𐭩 "Can you now? That's quite the goal"

ᯓᡣ𐭩 He thinks it's another cute little human idea initially. A bit of a naive one maybe, but most earth ideas for "shooting for the stars" always confused him a bit. He also sort of sums it up to a hyperbole and doesn't ask much more about it

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Until you offer to show him. That gets his attention. Humans are capable of incredible feats, yes, but how were you planning to prove such a thing? Much more visibly confused, he leans down like you ask him to

ᯓᡣ𐭩 As soon as your palms cup his cheekplates, he's even more bewildered. After thinking about it for a second, he chuckles, leaning into your touch as he uses a large hand to pull you a little closer. "That's very clever" he says with a smile "looks like I can hold the world in my hand too"

Ratchet

ᯓᡣ𐭩 "Uh..huh. Good luck with that"

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Completely doesn't understand the setup. The whole world?? This one? The giant ball in space holding billions of people? What's that supposed to mean? He assumes you're trying to bait him into a joke or something

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Then you ask him to lean down, and he's even more lost. If this is some sort of practical joke you'd learned from others, he wasn't excited for the outcome. But because it's you, he trusts it, bringing his face close enough for you to reach

ᯓᡣ𐭩 When your hands cup his face, he's even more lost. He runs the situation over again in his heads a few times before it actually lands. He acts exasperated to cover up how flustered he is, lightly patting your head. "You humans, I swear... cute trick, kid"

Bumblebee

ᯓᡣ𐭩 "Oh yeah? Go ahead, try, I wanna see it"

ᯓᡣ𐭩 He's amused at the idea. He knows you're likely not being literal, but he wants to see where it goes. He's had a lot of fun learning human jokes so far, what's one more to the list?

ᯓᡣ𐭩 He leans down as soon as you asked, excited to see the expected punchline. He can't exactly see where it's going yet, but knowing you he hopes for the best and waits expectantly

ᯓᡣ𐭩 When your hands land on his face, he has to take a second to get it. There's a bit of a 'is that... it?' moment where he's still waiting for the joke. Then it clicks all at once, and he gains a very obvious blush on his face. He cups his hands around your head, grinning widely "Well I can hold my whole world in just one hand! Beat that"

Starscream

ᯓᡣ𐭩 "Ha! That bold, are you? Is there no end to your feeble little plans?"

ᯓᡣ𐭩 He sounds a little mean about it, but it's just his usual teasing. Sort of in a 'that's nice honey' kind of way. He of course argues that if anyone is fit to carry the world, it would be him, obviously

ᯓᡣ𐭩 It takes some convincing to get him to kneel down. He pretends like he's oh so busy and has so many important things to do, but inevitably gives in and indulges your whims

ᯓᡣ𐭩 The second your hands reach his face, he gets it immediately. He stammered a bit, chuckling as he tried to brush it off. He didn't want it to be so obvious that something so small could fluster him, but he couldn't help it around you. "Ahem- well- you're very brave for being so forward! But I suppose I can allow you to hold on for a moment longer"

Soundwave

ᯓᡣ𐭩 "Improbable. The world is too big for human hands"

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Takes your words at direct face value. He's trying to be honest and let you down easy. He's got no idea how you somehow convinced yourself you were strong enough to pull that off, but he feels like he has to bring you back to reality

ᯓᡣ𐭩 He's only confused when you ask him to come closer. What does this have to do with your claim? He leans down of course, but he doesn't understand what's happening

ᯓᡣ𐭩 When your hands hold his face, he just pauses. He's about to correct you, but before the words can fully leave his mouth, he realizes what you're trying to say. He sighs from his vents as he holds onto your wrists. "I see. I.. can hold the world in mine, too"

Megatron

ᯓᡣ𐭩 "Aiming big, aren't we? Your time will come"

ᯓᡣ𐭩 He indulges your comment. He's promised you the world, everything his servos can carry. Of course it'll all be yours someday, he'll make sure of it

ᯓᡣ𐭩 He leans down at your request, though he of course asks what you're planning. He can tell by your little grin whenever you've got something brewing in your head, but he allows it for the sake of it

ᯓᡣ𐭩 He catches on the second you hold his face, and he chuckles in amusement. "Ah, that's what you meant" he said, leaning into the embrace "clever... for a human" he teases lightly

[birdie-in-arcadia]

Always

This was an anon request, and I honestly had a lot of fun writing this despite the subject matter. Thank you for such a great ask anon, and I hope I did it justice! Enjoy <3

CW: angst, verbal fight between Vessel and fem!reader, reconciliation, fluff, and suggestive content at the end

Word Count: 5.3k

It started in the little ways. The late replies, the sidelong glances that never quite land. The way he pulls his hands or lips away just a second too early, almost like warmth and love has become something he doesn’t yearn for the way he did before. 

You’ve been trying not to notice, to shrug it off. You tell yourself he’s tired, and that tour wears on everyone, which is inevitably true. That if you give him space, he’ll come back to you in his own time. But it’s been weeks, and that quiet ache in your chest is getting harder to ignore. Every time you reach for him, literally or metaphorically, it feels like his edges are sharper than they used to be. Not angry or anything, just… untouchable and distant. 

And even now, back at the hotel, he barely looks up when you speak. You’re perched on the end of the bed, arms wrapped around your knees, watching him dig through his overnight bag. Your hair falls over your arms, tickling you occasionally as if to say, “lighten up”. But you can’t, no matter how hard you try. 

“Did you want to get breakfast downstairs in a bit?” you ask, gently. Not needy or clingy, just hoping he’ll want to be with you. 

He hums noncommittally. “Maybe. I’m not sure I’m up for it.” His tone is flat, yet loaded. You simply nod and take a deep breath before replying quietly, “Okay. I can bring something back up if you’d rather stay in.” 

“Maybe.” Another one-word response. You want to rake your nails through your hair and rip it out at the roots in frustration. You don’t understand what you’ve done to deserve such... silence. It’s all maybes with him lately. No certainty, no weight or sincerity. Like every answer is a placeholder for the thing he wants to say, but won’t. 

You try not to show your disappointment or frustration. Instead, you stand and stretch, offering a faint smile. “I’m gonna go see if the band lounge has that ginger tea again. Might help my throat.” 

“Yeah,” he says absently, his gaze now cast on his phone. “Good idea.” 

No offer to come with you. No kiss goodbye. Just the rustle of his joggers as he reclines in the corner chair and the low hum of traffic outside the window. 

You step into the hallway and let the door click quietly shut behind you, swallowing the lump rising in your throat. Your gaze is fixed on the floor beneath you as you wrack your brain, attempting to think of anything and everything you’ve ever done wrong or said sideways that could’ve hurt his feelings or pushed him away. You mentally ask yourself, “Am I too much? Do I need or ask for too much from him? Is he tired of me, or has he found someone better?” Nothing makes sense. You’ve loved him as much as he’ll let you, you give him space when he requests it, and you give him your undivided attention all the same. 

It was such a perfect relationship up until about four weeks ago. You try as hard as you can to think of something that could’ve been pivotal enough to warrant such distance. Was there an argument or a disagreement of any kind? Any harsh words or slammed doors? Absolutely nothing comes to mind, and it’s driving you mad. What did I do? 

You blink hard and shake your head, turning your focus to the elevator you’re approaching. You click the down arrow button and stare at its flickering orange glow, letting your mind run wild with what ifs and circumstances and possible answers to an impossible equation. 

The lift doors opening brings you back to reality and your eyes dart up as you see yours and Vessel’s dear friend II standing near the front of the lift, bracing himself on the handrail along the side. He smiles at you as you step in the rig, standing opposite him. You lean against the wall as you hear II’s Welsh lilt ask you which floor you’re going to. “Lobby, please.” you answer simply, your tone too deflated to hide. His face drops from friendly to concerned as his brows furrow slightly. 

He turns and jabs the button with a calloused thumb, and the doors close, trapping you in this space with him, and you just know he’s gonna ask what’s wrong. It’s in his caring nature. Like clockwork, you hear that same voice ask, “You alright, babe?” He’s called you that platonic nickname since he first got to know you nearly six months ago, and you’re used to it by now. It holds the same endearment as “buddy” or “pal” or even “dude”. 

You sigh as you turn your gaze from the dingy steel walls of the moving rig to meet II’s, and you can see the concern on his features. You quickly decide how much you wanna tell him, and you reply, “Yeah, just... I dunno, Ves seems so distant lately and I don’t understand why. I’ve been thinking all day for the last few days about what I could’ve done to upset him or push him away, and I got nothing.” You shrug as you finish, and II’s face goes from an expression of concern to one of sympathy as he nods his head along to your words. 

“Sorry, love. Ves just gets like this sometimes when he’s got something on his mind. He was like this right before him and his last girl broke it off, for example.” II says before he realizes his implications. As your eyes go wide and your brows arch on your forehead, you feel your stomach drop through the floor of the lift. His own eyes widen, and he immediately backpedals. “Uh, no wait, I uh- shit- I didn’t mean- that's not what I-” he splutters, his hands flailing in front of him as if he’s physically grasping for the words. You chuckle lightly at the sight. 

He sighs and runs a frustrated hand over his face before dropping it limply to his side. “I didn’t mean that’s what’s gonna happen with you two. It was just an example, and a horrid one at that. Sorry about that.” he says, his tone heavy with embarrassment. His cheeks are red as his gaze fixes on his Nikes. You chuckle again as you reply, “It’s alright man, my heart only stopped for a couple seconds.” He lets out a nervous yet relieved laugh as he runs a hand over his hair, and the rig comes to a stop. 

He steps out first, and you follow behind as you ask, “You thirsty too?” He turns back to glance at you over his shoulder, and he slows down to walk beside you. “Nah, just wanted to grab more of those Lifesavers gummies. Fuckers are addicting.” You hum in agreeance as he asks, “What’re you gettin’?” You point to the coffee and hot water bar a few feet away and reply, “Hopefully one of those ginger teas if they still have any.” He hums again as he makes his selection and pays the clerk behind the counter. 

“I was actually headed up to talk with him about tomorrow’s gig after I grabbed these. D’ya want me to talk to him about what you told me?” II asks as you both walk back toward the lift. You ponder for a moment, hands comforted by the warmth of the paper cup in your grasp. After a few steps, you reply, “No, that’s okay. I’ll talk with him about it tomorrow on the flight back. I appreciate it, though.” II simply smiles at you and nods once before you both step back into the lift. 

You make small talk about venues and light rigging and sound systems as the lift takes you back to your floor. Eventually, it comes to a stop and you both bid your farewells as you step off, leaving II, as his room is another floor up. 

Your mood slowly falls back down into “what did I do to upset him” the closer you get to your room. As you approach the door and unlock it, a pit forms in your stomach as you open the door and step in, finding Vessel gone. 

You pull out your phone instantly, nearly dropping your fresh tea, and you check your messages. Did you miss the chime of a text message? Apparently you did, because you have one new message from Vessel. 

It reads, “Grabbing drinks with III. Don’t wait up.” 

What the fuck? Your face screws up as you reread the message three times over, incredibly confused as to why he’d want to grab drinks considering he’s recovering from addiction. Worry and guilt sweep through you as you wonder if he’s drinking again because of you. Tears prick the corners of your eyes, but you blink them away in frustration. 

Wait. Didn’t II say he was going to talk with Vessel about concert shit? Did II lie to you or is he just misinformed? You sit your cup on the counter nearest you, and you frantically pull up Find My iPhone. You zoom in on his location, and it indicates that he’s still in the hotel, and so is III. 

A bone-chilling realization washes over you, and your stomach churns something nasty as your mind flies through all the possibilities. III’s still in the hotel, and so is Vessel. Are they together? Is Vessel in another member’s room? Or is he in someone else’s room entirely? 

A myriad of emotions flood through you as your veins fill with fire and ice and your heartrate catapults. There’s no way, right? Vessel has been cheated on in the past, so he’d never... right? You aren’t certain of that, and it makes you vehemently nauseous. However, you are certain of one thing: you have to find him now. 

You storm out of the room, emotions in a whirlwind as you stare down Find My iPhone, stomping in the direction of his location. Your brain is a tsunami of thoughts and possibilities. What if he’s just in one of the guys’ rooms? What if they’re just relaxing and maybe gaming, and you storm in there like a bat outta hell for no reason and embarrass yourself? 

You shake your head, and one thought lingers: regardless of who’s room he's in, you’ve been lied to. Your chin trembles, but you deny your eyes any release of salt; not until you know for sure. His location leads against a wall in between two rooms. Huh? You refresh the app, and it still shows the same place. Maybe it’s up or down a floor? 

You turn confusedly and head for the lift you were just in with II. You press the up-arrow button since II said he was going to talk with Vessel, and you're kind of banking on him being up there with II. You tap your foot lightning fast as the rig moves slowly upward, the gravitational pull downward not helping your nausea in the slightest. 

Once the door opens a few moments later, you step out and follow his location directly to II’s room. Okay, this checks out, but why did he say he was getting drinks with III? You form a fist, knuckles forward as you raise your arm, but just before you knock, you hear your name.  

Their voices are low but still audible in the quiet of the room. You freeze, not intending to eavesdrop, just… uncertain. The way he’s speaking is different; tense. 

“I don’t know how to explain it,” Vessel mutters. “It’s like… the closer she gets, the more I feel like I’m going to fuck it up.” II doesn’t respond right away. 

“She’s everything. Sweet, steady, and forgiving. And I can’t even hold a conversation without it feeling like a lie.” Vessel continues. You blink as the words land, your heart dropping into your stomach. 

“Every time she looks at me like I’m the moon and stars in her skies, I just feel like a fucking fraud. Like she’s in love with someone who doesn’t exist anymore. I feel like I’m living in someone else’s skin when I’m with her sometimes,” he continues. “Like I have to pretend to be this perfect version of myself or I’ll lose her.” He lets out a shaky breath. “But the worst part? I think she’d be better off if I did.” 

You don't hear the rest. Your ears are ringing and roaring with your blood. But you don’t need to hear it, nor do you want to. His voice cuts through you like a razor, sharp and brutal. The weight of it lodges in your lungs, and suddenly you can’t breathe. You stumble back a step, hand pressed to your chest, mouth slightly agape. Your heart pounds in your ears as you catch yourself on the wall across from II’s door. 

I feel like I'm living in someone else's skin when I'm with her sometimes. She’d be better off if I did. He can't be fucking serious.

You turn, quick and quiet, and walk straight back to your shared room. Your hands are trembling when you unlock the door. 

The air in the room still smells faintly like his cologne; amber, smoke, something earthy. You shut the door behind you and lean against it for a moment, the silence loud and suffocating. Your brain immediately goes to war with your heart.

He doesn’t love you. He’s been pulling away because he’s already gone; emotionally checked out, just waiting for the right moment to say the words out loud. You’d been holding on to hope that it was in your head. That maybe he was just stressed. Maybe he was trying. But you heard it. Not from a text, not from a rumor. From his own mouth. 

No, you know he loves you. From the way he clings to you at night like you're his lifeline. The way he always checks in on you no matter the scenario. He brings you along on every tour, to every show just so you feel included. All the times he's held you while you cried and put you back together with just his voice and vocabulary.

She'd be better off if I did. His words ring through your head again, shattering any semblance of logic or hope that he still wanted you around.

You cross the room in a haze and start pulling your things together. Toothbrush, charger, whatever clothing you could find strewn over the floor haphazardly. That hoodie you always wear to bed that still smells like him catches your eye, and you feel your throat nearly close up as a sob threatens to tear from it.

You step over to the end of the bed where the hoodie lays, and you pick it up and take a deep inhale of its scent. Agony surges through your chest like a knife to the heart and your knees nearly buckle as your combined smells lilt through your sinuses.

You clutch the hoodie with white knuckles, your face contorting into a mixed expression of anger and grief, and a sob pummels its way up your throat and past your lips. You throw the hoodie onto the floor and turn from it, picking up what's left of your belongings on the floor and surrounding tabletops.

You divert your eyes from the article one last time and deny yourself the relief of fully crying. Not yet. You stomp into the bathroom and grab your toiletries from the shower wall, knocking down one of his bottles in your wake. You groan as it tumbles down, echoing through the bathroom. You leave it where it lies as you rush back to your bag and stuff it all in with shaking hands. 

In a last ditch effort to feel in control of something, anything, you make the bed. As you finish, you hear the familiar crinkling of a small aluminum packet underfoot. You wince at the sound, at the memory, and you bend to pick it up and discard it in a nearby waste bin.

You bend and hover over the desk and tear a page from the hotel’s notepad. You pick up a nearby pen, then pause, staring at the blank paper. A single tear falls onto the sheet, wrinkling it. And then you write: 

"If you wanted me to leave, you didn’t have to disclose it secretly to II. I wish you’d just said it to my face." 

You fold it once and place it on the bed. You give the room one last look, and then you’re gone.  

_______________

“…I think she’d be better off if I did.” Vessel’s voice trails into silence. II says nothing at first, he just lets the words of his struggling best friend settle. Vessel had been waiting outside II's door as II returned from grabbing his snack in the lobby with you. He'd let Vessel in without a word once he saw the helpless look in his eyes.

Vessel leans against the wall, head tipping back, eyes shut. The room smells like lemon floor polish, burnt coffee, and old carpet; cheap and forgettable. A fitting backdrop, he thinks bitterly, for the way he’s been acting lately. 

“I mean, fuck,” he mutters, scrubbing a hand down his face. “She gives me everything. Patience, kindness… all this love I don’t know how to process. And what do I do? I shut down. I shut her out. I can feel her slipping away from me and I just keep letting it happen.” 

II sighs, arms crossed. “So talk to her, man. Don’t let your head run the whole show. If you’re scared, tell her. If you love her, and I know you do, show her.” 

“I do,” Vessel breathes. “God, I do. I’ve never-” His voice catches in his throat. He clears it, blinking hard. “I’ve never felt like this about anyone. Not since... you know. It’s terrifying, being vulnerable again. But I don’t want to lose her. I’d rather die trying to let her in than watch her walk away thinking I didn’t care.” 

II rests a hand on his shoulder, solid and grounding. “Then go. Tell her that, all of it. Before your silence speaks louder than your words ever could.” Vessel nods, heart thudding against his ribs, determination coursing through his veins. “Yeah, you’re right. Thank you, man. I’m going now.” 

He turns, heart already racing, and opens the room door. The hallway stretches ahead of him, silent, like it knows what's coming. His feet move rapidly toward the elevator, and he jams the button. He all but jumps inside when the doors open, and he mashes the floor number until the rig is moving again. He’s grinning as he descends at a slow pace, ecstatic that he’s about to go fix everything with his girl, and maybe even make love to you if you’d let him. 

The door clicks open with a familiar sound, the keycard light flashing green. He steps inside, voice low but warm. 

“Baby!” His cheerful greeting rings through the small room. 

He’s met with silence. He frowns as he notices that the bathroom door is open, and the lights are off. 

“Baby?” he tries again, this time laced with a hint of confusion. Still nothing. The room is quiet, way too quiet. His eyes scan the space. The bed is made, the chair in the corner is empty, and the closet door is slightly ajar. 

And then it hits him. Your things are gone. The tote bag that always slouches beside the dresser? Gone. Your travel case of skincare and scrunchies that typically adorn the counter? Missing. The sweater you wore this morning, cream colored, soft, probably still faintly scented like you? No longer tossed over the arm of the chair where you always leave it. 

His blood runs cold. “No…” he breathes, stepping forward. He checks the bathroom, heart lurching. Nothing. Your soaps are gone, even your microfiber hair towel. 

His hands start trembling as he crosses back to the bed, eyes darting over the blankets, the table, the floor, anything. “Maybe she just ran out for food”, he thinks. “Maybe she-” 

Then he sees it. Folded once, an unpinned grenade on the center of the bed, his given name, not the moniker, not a pet name, in your handwriting unmistakably on the hotel paper. He picks it up slowly like the bomb that it is. His eyes trace the words. 

If you wanted me to leave, you didn’t have to disclose it secretly to II. I just wish you’d said it to my face. 

The paper trembles in his hand. He rereads it.  

Once. Twice. A third time. 

“No, no, no- fuck, no-” His voice breaks. 

His knees give, and he sinks onto the edge of the bed, the note still clutched between trembling fingers. The breath leaves his lungs like he’s been punched. His chest burns. His vision blurs. 

You must’ve come looking for him and overheard. Dammit, his plan of diverting your attention by telling you that he was going out with III did the exact opposite. Go figure. Regardless, you heard him. But you didn’t stay long enough to hear what came after. Didn’t hear him say he loves you. Didn’t hear him say he wants to fight for you. You think he wanted you to go. 

He drops his head into his hands, shoulders shaking as a raw sound escapes his throat; half anguish, half pleading. The pain slams into him like a wave, unforgiving and cold, clawing its way through every part of him. He presses the note to his chest like it might somehow undo the damage, but it doesn’t. It just hurts. 

“Fuck,” he gasps again, standing suddenly, stumbling, frenzied, and searching for anything that could give him an answer. He grabs his phone from his front left pocket, and he opens your thread. His thumbs hover, trembling, then he types: 

“Please come back. I didn’t mean it like that. Please.” 

“I love you. I’m sorry. I didn’t know you heard. Please just tell me you’re okay.” 

No “... is typing...”, no response. He hits the call button. 

Straight to voicemail. 

He calls again. 

Two rings, then voicemail. 

“Pick up, baby, please,” he whispers to the static. “Please, just... fuck, just talk to me. Let me explain. I swear to God I didn’t mean it like that…” 

He’s pacing now, chest heaving, phone in a death grip. And then, a miracle. He swipes down with shaking fingers and opens the location-sharing app. Your dot is still live, still glowing. Looks to be approximately three blocks down. A little boutique hotel near the edge of the shopping district. You must’ve forgotten to turn it off amid all the emotions and taxi-hailing. Otherwise, you definitely would’ve turned off your location. You don’t want to be found. 

Without a second thought, he bolts for the door. 

Rain pours against the sidewalk as Vessel sprints down the street, dodging passersby, lungs burning, the cold biting into his damp skin. He doesn’t feel any of it, not really. The only thing he feels is you. The absence of you, the shape you leave behind, like a phantom in his chest. 

The GPS dot blinks steady on his screen, his lifeline. He turns a corner and sees it, small and quaint, tucked between a florist and an antique shop. The boutique hotel you chose in the heat of heartbreak. 

He’s there in seconds, breath ragged, soaked to the bone. The front desk blurs past as he races up the stairs, skipping steps, heart pounding so hard it makes him nauseous. He follows your beacon of hope to the very door you’re hidden behind. 

He knocks once, three light sounds against the wooden door. He’s met with nothing. He knocks again, another three times, but a tad bit louder this time, in case you’re sleeping. 

“Please,” he whispers, pressing his forehead to the wood, rain dripping from his hair and trailing down the door, his fingers clenched into fists. “Please let me in.” 

Still nothing. He swallows down a sob and knocks one last time, louder this time. “I know you don’t want to see me. I know I hurt you. But baby I swear, I didn’t mean it like that. You left before you could even hear the rest.” Silence on the other side. He breathes hard, trembling hands travelling upward to brace himself as he leans on the door, and he fights the urge to break it down to get to you. Your silence completely unnerves him. 

“I was talking to II because I didn’t know how to talk to you,” he confesses, voice cracking. “I’m scared all the time. That you’ll realize I’m not what you need. That you’ll wake up one day and see what a fucking mess I am and walk away and-” 

The lock clicks, and his head shoots up to look for your face, regaining his balance and lowering his hands to his sides. The door opens just enough to reveal you; eyes red and glassy, hair tied back in a loose bun, gray hoodie zipped to your throat. You don’t say anything at first, you just look at him like he’s something wild and foreign. 

You cross your arms tightly over your chest as you prop the door open and turn, walking away from him, the sights of the city momentarily capturing your attention as you approach the window in your room. You hear the door click shut, and you feel his presence in the room as you turn to face him. He’s standing about a foot from the door, his hands at his sides, his face drawn down, his big, beautiful puppy eyes focused solely on you. 

“You lied to me,” you say finally, breaking the silence, your voice quiet but sharp. “You told me you were going to get drinks with III when you were just upstairs talking shit about me to II.” 

“I wasn’t-” he steps forward, then stops, hands raised like you might bolt. He exhales and checks his tone before continuing. “I wasn’t talking shit. I was spiraling, alright? I was telling him that I’m scared of how good you are to me... how I keep messing it up.” He finishes, and he takes a small step toward you as if you’re a feral cat he’s found outside. "And I said I was going out with III because I didn't want you worrying and wondering where I was. I couldn't just tell you I was going to talk to II because I didn't wanna risk, well... this happening..." He trails off and you mull over his explanation. You know mentally that he was right. You would've definitely insisted on going with him. You decide leave that part of the argument to be discussed later.

“You said I’d be better off without you,” you snap. “How the hell was I supposed to take that?” You punctuate your question by unfolding your arms and gesturing toward him, your brows furrowing in frustration. 

He flinches, the realization of how bad that would’ve sounded from your perspective washing over him. “I know how it sounded,” he says honestly, voice breaking again. “But that wasn’t the end of the sentence. I was saying I didn’t want to lose you. That I was going to talk to you. That I love you. I’ve just been- fuck, I’ve been so in my head lately, and I didn’t want to put that weight on you.” 

You shake your head, eyes shining. “You think lying was protecting me?” you ask exasperatedly, your arms out to your sides, forefingers pointing inward toward yourself. “But I didn’t lie about that,” he says, his tone serious. You point as accusatory finger at him as you spit, “It was lying by omission, Vessel.” His face drops. 

“I didn’t mean to lie,” he breathes. “I just… I thought if I told you I was falling apart, you’d start seeing me the way I see myself. And then you would leave.” You step back, arms crossed tightly, and your frustration is evident on your face. “And the distance? The coldness? Was that supposed to be protection too? Because it felt like punishment.” 

His face twists in anguish as the truth in your words pelts him like bullets. “I know,” he says. “I know I’ve been distant. I’ve been awful. And I hate how I’ve made you feel. I hate that I made you doubt yourself when the only failure in this relationship has been me.” He looks at you through defeated eyes, tears beginning to brim again. 

Your voice wavers now, anger giving way to hurt. “You made me feel like I wasn’t enough, or maybe I was too much. Like I was annoying you just by existing. You’ve been pushing me away for weeks, Vessel.” You feel your tough exterior cracking as the look in his eyes peels you apart layer by layer. 

He steps forward again, slower this time. “I didn’t know how to let you in without showing you all the worst parts of me.” You look at him, eyes searching, still guarded. “Ves, you already have. Remember when your family cut you off because they don’t agree with your new lifestyle? Or when we first got together and you were so anxiety ridden you practically bolted for the bedroom anytime you heard your doorbell ring? I was there through all of that, and I never batted an eye. It’s my job as your partner to see you through every chapter of life, no matter how scary or unbecoming. You know this, love. You just have to let me in.” You finish, your arms falling to your sides as a tear marks its own trail down your face, dripping from your jaw. 

His expression crumples. “And you’re still here, still talking to me, even with me coming to find you like some sort of headcase,” he says quietly. You blink fast, biting the inside of your cheek. “How the hell did you find me, by the way?" You ask him, suddenly reminded of the blaring question.

He lets out a short, breathless sound. Almost a laugh, almost a sob. “You didn't turn off your location, lovey." he replies, a slight hint of amusement in his eyes. You chuckle and run a hand over your face as you're taken aback by your own lack of attention to such a major detail. "Christ... Well, I'm glad I didn't," you reply, looking up at him through long lashes. A long silence passes between the two of you as you both take in what the other has said. Then, with trembling hands, you capitulate and motion him forward, and you move toward the bed. “C’mere.” 

He wipes his face with the back of his hand as he approaches you slowly. He perches at the edge of the bed like you might dissolve if he touches you too soon. Vessel looks over you after a few seconds, taking in your disheveled appearance. His chest aches with the knowledge that it’s his fault you fled in such a hurry, and that you’re so forlorn. You meet his gaze and allow your eyes to take in the sopping wet cat of a man next to you. Rainwater drips from his hair onto his lap below, but he doesn't seem to notice, and he looks like a man who’s been through war just to get to you. 

“I love you,” he says again, steadier now. “I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone. And I’m sorry for every time I made you question that.” You look at him, eyes glossy, heart swelling in your chest. “I love you too, Ves. That’s why it hurt so much.” 

He moves to kneel in front of you, hands reaching for yours. You let him take them slowly, like it's a test she’s not sure he’ll pass. “I’ll do better,” he whispers. “Not just today. Every day. I’ll keep choosing you.” You swallow hard, the lump in your throat rising again. “Don’t shut me out again, please,” you whisper to him, eyes blurring with tears. “I won’t,” he says, forehead pressing to your hands. “I swear it.” 

Your breath shudders as you exhale through the sadness leaving your body. You pull him up and into your arms, holding him tightly, like you’re afraid if you lets go, he’ll vanish again. You stay like that for a long time, just holding each other, letting the fear bleed out. Eventually, you whisper, “Let’s go home.” Those three simple words wash over him like a cool wave of relief, and he didn't realize how badly he craved to hear you say them until you did.

The walk back is quiet, but your fingers are laced the entire way. Once inside the room, Vessel closes the door behind you with a soft click. The lights are low, the hum of the city a dull throb beyond the shaded windows. You turn to face him, and he just stands there for a moment, eyes soft yet unsure as they flicker over your form. 

You step toward him, hands reaching for the hem of his soaked hoodie. “Let me,” you say. He easily acquiesces and lifts his arms, letting you peel it away slowly, reverently. His shirt comes next, and it hits the carpeted floor with a dull, wet slap. Your hands glide over the bare skin of his chest; cold from the rain but warming beneath your touch. He watches you like you’re shaping the skies before his eyes; like you’re the only thing anchoring him to earth. 

He undresses you slowly, hands lingering, fingers and lips exploring, and you move together like water, slow and unhurried. There’s no urgency now, just the deep ache of reunion. He lays you down with such care, like you’re thin glass. 

When he enters you, it’s with soft gasps and a whispered, “I missed you.” Your bodies meet in a rhythm that speaks more than words ever could. Not rough, not desperate. Just homecoming. Every thrust, every touch, every sigh is an apology, a promise, a thread sewing you gently yet thoroughly back together. 

He presses his forehead to yours as you move in tandem, voice trembling. “You terrify me,” he whispers, “Because I want you, all of you, forever. I want to bare my entire soul to you, my beautiful girl.” You whine as you pull his face to yours and you kiss him slowly, deeply, and so lovingly. “I’m not going anywhere,” you whisper as he moves above you. You wrap your arms around his neck and shoulders as you approach your peak. 

When you both reach your climax, it’s a beautiful release of emotions and endorphins. Your shared moans and heavy breaths curl through the room around you. You’re breathless, your eyes are locked with his, and your fingers stay intertwined. 

You lay like that long after cleaning up, curled into each other beneath the sheets, skin to skin, heart to heart. You sport only Vessel's hoodie, the same one which broke your heart earlier, and a pair of knickers, and Vessel lays comfortably in only his underwear. His nose is buried in your hair, arms locked around you like he’s afraid you’ll vanish if he loosens his grip.

His voice is low, barely a breath against your ear. “You smell like me, love.” You laugh softly, eyes fluttering closed. “That’s because I'm wearing your hoodie, you goof.”

“Oh,” he murmurs delightfully. “Then I guess I like me better on you.” You groan playfully and swat at his chest. “That was horrendous. I rescind all affection.”

He grabs your hand and kisses each knuckle with dramatic flair. “Forgive me, my darling muse. I’ll compose better lines on the morrow.” You hum, feigning pretentiousness. “I’ll be expecting a full sonnet.”

“Only if I get paid in kisses,” he jokes, smiling against your cheek. You open one eye. “You drive a hard bargain, Mister Vessel Marie.”

He smiles wider and chuckles before taking on a more serious tone. “I missed you. Even when you were still next to me I missed you so fucking much.” Your heart tightens, full and aching. “Don’t do that again, please. Don’t pull away like that. I am always here for you, sweetness,” you assure him, rubbing over the tops of his knuckles with your thumb.

“I won’t,” he promises. “You’re stuck with me now. I’m basically your emotional barnacle,” he finishes, and you can hear the cheeky grin shaping his words.

You snort. “Sexy.” He pulls his hand from yours and he licks the tips of his pointer and pinkie finger before smoothing over his eyebrows with them. "I try," he says, waggling his brows down at you. "You are such a dork," you say to him as you giggle. You turn in his arms just enough to kiss the tip of his nose. “I love you,” you tell him, and you've never been so serious about anything else in your life.

“I love you more,” he whispers. “Even when I’m an idiot. Especially then.” He kisses your cheek as he pulls the duvet higher around you both, your legs tangled, his thumb brushing soft circles into your hip. The steady rhythm of his breathing lulls you closer to sleep. How would you ever be able to live without this?

And when you’re nearly unconscious, he whispers to you, “Gonna stay with me, sweet girl?” You squeeze his hand as you whisper your reply, and it’s the last thing said for the night. 

“Always.” 

@deathcapbunny @yourgirlisa @houseofsleeptoken @wormm-mom @lynzeequitlollygagging @blackcherrywhiskey @thedemonofsodom @mysticmorning1 @xnikix02 Here you go! If you'd like to be added here, let me know :) I really hope you enjoyed this, anon <3<3

[colourobserver]

A lot of people are not going to like me for saying this but…it needs to be said. And no one is even going to read this but…vent time!

For starters,

MOVIE TERESA AND BOOK TERESA ARE VERY, VERY DIFFERENT.

I know that people realise that movie Teresa only got her memories later on and made her decision on whether the gladers should be given up for a cure. Yet people seem to miss the fact that this DOESN’T happen in the books. So let’s talk about some things book Teresa has done.

Just so it’s clear, I UNDERSTAND why people don’t hate Teresa. I understand people not thinking she is evil, OKAY? I get that. Bc when I too look at the situation of The Maze Runner from an outside perspective without emotional attachments to the characters I can understand the importance of doing what they could to find a cure. The good of the many and all that jazz.

Now something that people SOMEHOW seem to forget is that book Teresa DIDN’T just do things for ‘the good of the many’ and even when she did she was super heartless about it. She cared for Thomas a whole lot more than anyone else so I don’t believe it’s a matter of her wanting to save everyone too.

1. In the books Teresa knew basically EVERYTHING—even if she didn’t she knew enough—that was going to happen to the boys. At times one word could have saved lots of lives and Wicked still would have got their variables or whatever. For instance she knew Chuck was going to be controlled by Wicked to jump in front of Thomas when Gally shoots him. The same way they were forcing Gally. She also knew other stuff that was happening in the trials for like how she could have at least said something about IDK MAYBE THE BIG MOLTEN METAL BALLS THAT LITERALLY BURNT THOSE KIDS ALIVE.

2. In the end when she planned on saving Thomas and no one else. UMM SO WE JUST FORGOT THAT THAT HAPPENED? It is crazy to me how people portray Teresa as super caring of everyone and stuff bc if YOU were in the maze she would not give two shits if you lived or died. As well as how everyone but Thomas were ‘subjects’ to her.

3. Teresa’s whole ‘I love you Thomas. We’re in this together’ and not only lying to him about the fact he was going to have his memory swiped and not her but manipulating him into comforting her in that bit in fever code that she says “tell me that we’ll survive this. Tell me that we will save our friends together”—something like that anyways. She KNEW the maze was gonna kill most of the kids yet she made Thomas say that right before she let Paige drug him and wipe his memories etc.

4. Teresa’s whole ‘if I didn’t go with Wicked’s plan they would have killed you Thomas” really says a lot about her care for literally anyone that ISN’T Thomas.

5. Teresa’ reaction to Minho calling her a traitor in the scorch when she shrugged and said “I’m sick of apologising. I did what I had to to” like that is SO insensitive to EVERYTHING Minho went through! Have you no empathy???

6. Before that when she whacked Thomas on the head with a gas chamber and spear much more than even necessary has me with mixed feelings about how much she truly loves Thomas or whether she was just attached to him. Maybe it was more of a possession thing? We always talk about male love interests being possessive but not the girl…but that a whole other thing.

7. Teresa having the AUDACITY to telepathically tell Thomas when he was kidnapped and put into a white room for like ever that “wicked is good” ehh, ever heard of time and place?

I also hate the whole “you just don’t get her like I do” like yes, if you are talking about the fact she wanted to save everyone and not just a select few then YES in fact any one with a bloody moral compass can see that. You are allowed to feel that way, ofc you are. But no, you aren’t understanding her on a deeper level you are understanding something that everyone should be able to understand.

And then movie Teresa…I don’t rlly care if you love her or not. Mostly because she actually showed guilt when torturing Minho. I personally don’t like her either but I don’t hate her.

(Also I think that if movie Teresa wasn’t so conventionally attractive she wouldn’t be nearly as liked. I’ve literally had someone tell me that she’s their favourite character because she’s so ‘hot’.

Yall im in a war zone saying this but oh well.

[indiestsnake]

so has anyone else noticed the wonderful metaphors for growing up with depression in deltarune or is that just me

yes this is an essay. yes there will be spoilers HERE WE GO

okay so. speaking as a teenager here. teenagers can be a little wonky. very wonky in fact. so wonky that they spend the next week wondering why the fuck they’re so wonky yes I’m speaking from experience

and that leads to a lot of kids relationships with their parents, even really good parents, having a sort of dissconnect. It’s hard to understand and comfort someone who’s, in your eyes… not going through all that much? Or just emotionally out of wack? but it’s still hurting them in the moment, and that’s what matters. and that leads to either parents kind of disregarding their struggles or the kid just not talking to them at all

and like… tell me you don’t get that vibe between Kris and Toriel.

End of chapter four especially, but generally in all chapters you see it. despite being a very caring and overall good mom, Toriel kind of disregards Kris in some ways. like when they say “oh yeah they do that” when Kris vanishes into the bathroom in chapter 2. like

Could Toriel have known what Kris was going through? Absolutely not. but would she even believe it if they told her?

this extends especially to the dark worlds, because they are canonically not “real”. Kris can’t tell Toriel about that. Even if she believed them, she’d never really understand it nor its magnitude. But the dark world, even if it’s not real, can absolutely hurt Kris and their friends. A lot.

and that, to me… is a really poignant metaphor for what it can feel like when you come to a parent with your struggles.

I’ve literally heard my mother describe some of my sisters words as not “real” before, because she expresses her feelings in a way that can blow them out of porportion. And she’s a little right; some of it is her just being a bit loud and out of wack emotionally.

but if you frame that as Kris coming back from a dark world. I mean, yeah! It’s not real!! but it sure as hell is fucking stressful!!!! and can actually hurt them!!!!!!!

To Kris, it is the fate of the world in their hands, and it’s not even in their control because of an separate being possessing them.

To Toriel… it’s a few friendships, and emotions being overridden by teenage angst.

To Kris, it’s physically not being in control of what they say.

To Toriel it’s just them expressing things wrong.

I could probably keep going with talks of how the soul can represent feelings of disassociation and loss of control or how Ralsei contributes to this but this post is long enough so I won’t

ough. Play deltarune

[casscainmainly]

his hand on her head as they give her the routine treatment she lets out a “you remind me of him” she’s already passed out and he’s just silent

they’re so evil and disturbed and you’re right about how they are both a bit blind to how much cass actually “loves” cain

a bit blind is a stretch for bruce tbh he doesn’t even really have a clue while it’s something cass has struggled with at

MMHMMM YEAHHH the hand on her head thing is soooo wicked and evil because it's such a recurring thing (see THIS POST by @batboopp if you want to shred your heart to pieces). I do wonder how much Bruce knew about Cass' feelings? He was super in denial about her all the time, but the true tragedy of Bruce-Cass to me is that he did know how much she loves Cain.

Thinking about the myriad ways Bruce had of separating Cass from Cain, not for her sake entirely but also for his.

Batgirl (2000) #22 // #33

In both these issues, Bruce tries his hardest to keep Cass from her father, and I think part of that is because he knows that she does love him. "You feel responsible for him. Don't." <- Part of what makes this line so interesting is that Bruce is right, Cass shouldn't feel responsible for him, but he follows it up with "Do what I trained you to do." Bruce fears Cass' loyalty to David will interfere with her loyalty to him. And that loyalty has always been mixed up in their love for each other, so in a lot of ways Bruce is reacting against Cass' love for David, which he is aware of (even if he'll never admit it out loud).

In #33 too, the issue ends with Bruce proposing a new birthday for Cass (not the one David said) and giving her a gift and the title is revealed to be Father's Day. Like Bruce is clearly vying for Cass' affection, putting himself in opposition to David. He wouldn't do this unless he was afraid Cass loved David more than him.

And the thing he doesn't get is it's this possessive aspect that makes him like David. The more he tries to pit himself against David, the more his actions remind Cass of him. And this is so DELICIOUS ARIHEFUASH. It's why we have this astonishing moment from the end of #37, after Cass realises that David really was her bio dad:

C'MONNNN THIS MOMENT. This being like the second to last page Puckett wrote in BG 2000 drives me up the wall it's so good. The point of #37 is Cass realising that even though David was her dad, even though David did love her, it doesn't matter. He still hurt her. But we end with this Bruce-Cass moment, and Cass' angry expression and Bruce turning away in - sadness? Shame? Oh Damion Scott the artist you are. Inin the context of the issue it's basically saying that this lesson Cass learned with David is also one she learns with Bruce. It doesn't matter how much he loves her, he hurts her, too. And Bruce's expression is ripe for interpretation - does he also understand that? Is he sad about Cass' sadness, about David being her dad, or about what that means for the two of them?

Anyway YEAH I love your pitch so so so bad someone must write a fic about it. Bruce-David parallels foreverrr.

[ghoastixx]

omfg IMAGINE lestat cleaning and dressing up fledgling reader😭cooing softly and telling his fledgling how cute they look.

To build up confidence (Lestat with his new fledgling)

Author's note: You don't even understand, I screamed when I saw this. I BELIEVE THERE IS NOT ENOUGH FLEDGLING APPRECIATION IN FICS!!!! Like yes, let me believe I am a vampire's new favorite little fledgling, thank you. Thank you so incredibly much for this request. Since you did not specify on gender, I am going to write reader as gender neutral, but if I do end up describing body type or whatever, it may lead more towards male (yes I know Lestat is Bi, sue me.) I am almost done with 'The Vampire Lestat' book so a good bit from that is mentioned here. Thank you again! Lots of love!

(I had to look up what 'cyrano de bergerac' was when writing this and I fear it is now going to be my new reading material...)

-Ri

Things to look out for: Degradation, blood (obviously), not really being seen as an independent adult anymore (It's not forced infantilization I swear it's different,) Honest to god Lestat is his own warning, bashing on American theater (I'm in American theater,) I imagine the production is Rocky Horror Picture Show, I just feel like it's right.

God, aren't you just adorably pathetic? That is the first thing your maker thinks about you. Of course, first glances can be deceiving.

American theater is so intriguing, no? Some of these shows just lack elegance and real, true, talent. But, that is sometimes the point, right? Lestat did not have high hopes for this little...production. If anything, he only came out of curiosity and a sort of nostalgia. Something about the little hole in the wall theater reminded him of his own uprising with the traveling performers, or perhaps even what used to be his own little theater in Paris. Of course, his own theater had been...nicer than this little... honestly could you even call it a theater?

He wasn't sure why he was so picky tonight, this was a thrill, no? A rush! Something that was not perfect, and of course, sometimes art was not meant to be perfect. After all, it's not like this was 'Cyrano de Bergerac' anyways. It was meant to be silly, a little something new for him to admire... But this? This is honestly not what he expected... and he was upset.

There was no true talent on this stage, no time put into this at all, no respect. Lestat honestly was debating getting up and leaving, but then he heard this voice, and he was stopped.

God, aren't you adorably pathetic?

Why you were not a lead in this production, was baffling to Lestat. You could act far better than majority of the mortals he had watched grace the stage this night, but your voice is what caught his attention. That voice. It was so...strained. Your voice was strained. The best part? You knew.

You had so much confidence, standing up on that stage, doing your part, but all Lestat had to do was take one look at you, and he almost had to giggle at how fast your thoughts were going.

"shitshitshitshitGODIsoundlikeshittonightohmygodismymiconwhattheFU-"

He was impressed, you were aware of how tired your voice was, how this little theater was doing nothing but ruining your chances at performing for the finer people, yet you were still having fun. How curious... So, like any respectful patron...he found himself knocking on the door to the dressing room...and offering you voice lessons...

Normally whenever he got this far, he would embarrass the musical offender by showing just how much more sophisticated in the arts he was than them and then using them as a blood bag, sparing the world of their miserable vocal range. He found himself amused as this little human stood in front of him, wiping their makeup off, hair pulled back, a tee shirt and sweatpants already thrown on, as they questioned his motives with offense.

"Look man, I know I didn't really sound good tonight, but that doesn't give you any right to come in here and-" Lestat cut you off by explaining exactly what was wrong with your voice and exactly how he planned to fix it.

As the piano sang under his fingers, your voice, now less tired and looser with the help of some honey, wafted from your chords. Everytime he would stop and say you were wrong, you took the note, thanking him. It seemed whoever had been working with you on the music for this show had done a miserable job... You actually sounded much better with the tips you were being given... this wasn't the affect that he wanted. He debated just killing you right then and there, but then you said something and he almost stopped playing.

"I really appreciate you taking time out of your night to help me out, I didn't even know what I was doing wrong. You really helped me out. You play beautifully... You think you can help me out with this song?" Perhaps it was amusement or maybe pity for this kid, but Lestat became their vocal coach, and favorable patron.

Months went by and Lestat watched his pet project grow through the shows in this little muggy theater. Almost every lead roll you could've possibly wanted had become yours, flowers so many you were almost out of vases, and other patrons begging you to come to their theater, it was all a dream come true! Throughout all of this, you stayed faithful to Lestat, seeking him out for help, constantly looking to repay this 'debt' that you felt you owed him, which he thought was adorable. You gave him free tickets to the shows and the satisfaction of how well you were doing on stage, how marvelous you were to watch, and the thrill of watching mortals question your relationship to the man, often reffering to him as your 'rich uncle' and some even questioning if he was your father and you a nepotism child. He had grown fond of you, thinking this endearing, he couldn't help but wonder what you would be like when he finally sunk his teeth into you, wrapped his claws around you, and showed you just how much more potential you had.

It was so warm out tonight, his little human was so miserable it was amusing, they were basically using Lestat as their personal cooler, leaning up against his side as they finished going over lines for the next distracting show they were going to audition for. Lestat had been growing impatient, he often found himself growing lonely when the little nuisance had to go home, how lonesome his big old house had become, and tonight was no exception to this.

"Lestat, are you listening to me?" They sat up against him, tilting their head, awaiting response.

"You could have far better, ma colombe," He felt annoyance rise in his throat when they scoffed, almost a laugh.

"I could have better? Yeah right, look at me 'stat, you ain't getting much better out of this."

"I could give you better, everything you've ever wanted, and you doubt me." Their frown fell as his tone was practically laced with seriousness, they sat up completely, looking at him.

"Lestat, you know I appreciate everything that you do and have already done for me, you don't have to do anymore, you already do to much," It was his turn to scoff,

"Too much? You could have so much more and you say this is too much? Are you dense or just stupidly naive?" They just shook their head, they had long ago become used to Lestat's petty insults. He looked at the human when he felt their warm hands lay over his cold ones, and that's when he realized what he truly wanted. "I'm a vampire."

"What."

It took half an hour to calm his human down, to explain everything to them, to get them to believe. They were sitting in front of him on the table, curled into themselves like a frightened child, but they made no move to escape, nodding, a bit pale. Lestat stood up a bit so that he was eye level with them, moving his hand up to cup their cheek gently.

"Please understand, mon cher, I am not going to hurt you. I want to see you thrive under my guidance,"

"You want to make me into a vampire too." He smiled at how blunt his little human was, how adorable they were.

"I am giving you a choice, mon cher, you can leave now and never come back and pray I never see you on your own again, or you can stay here with me and have everything you could possibly want and more, including bigger and better stages."

They looked down at their lap, hesitating, which worried Lestat just a bit, but one look into their head made him beyond satisfied. "My pet, if you just want to stay here with me for me, that's fine too." All it took was for his human to nod, and their fate was sealed.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lestat was enthralled as he looked at the creation, his creation, gathering their bearings in front of him. The turning had been strenuous for his little fledgling, but it proved efficient and was finally over, their human body had just died, and his blood now flowed through their shaky body. They perked up at the sound of Lestat's laughs, brows furrowed in a morbid concentration. It sounded like music to them, a gorgeous sound they could listen to forever.

"Mon bébé, look at you," He cooed, stepping towards them. Their hair was all messy, their own internal inneards on their face, hands, and shirt. Their face was smeared with blood and their eyes a new striking color, he kneeled down in front of them, a smile of pure admiration on his face. "such a messy eater, non?" He teased, licking his thumb and pressing it against his fledglings cheek, wiping some of the blood off. His fledgling turned their head, he clicked his tongue. "Now now, no need to fuss, little one. Let's get you cleaned up, yeah?"

He scooped up his little fledgling, melting as they held onto him, nuzzling into his neck. Lestat helped his new fledgling change into a soft pair of clothes he had, already planning what their new wardrobe would become, and started to wipe his face and hands off with a wet cloth.

"My little one, look at you...you're so cute, so precious..." His little fledgling looked up at him with this new-found innocence in their eyes, like Lestat held the world, pressing themselves against their maker's every touch. Lestat could've died, he knew he would be wrapped around this little one's finger now. "Mon bébé, always so good for me, non? My sweet little fledgling, if I'd have known you'd be so precious I would have turned you ages ago..." He pressed a gentle kiss to his fledglings forehead, he began to brush out their hair.

"Oh my darling, how my stage will love you."

[n0t-evenhere]

A little reverse ask to end the night/ day.

When it comes to the BSVN fandom. I know I post A LOT! I honestly feel like I take up a lot of space. I’m at the point where I wonder if I’m helping “keeping the fandom alive” or and I just being a little unintentionally overbearing and taking up a lot of space. I’m worried I’m push others out and that I AM taking up a lot of space which I don’t want it to affect other negatively. It’s been a thought recently and so I thought who better to ask then the people who read my thing, look at my post, check on the BSHVN fandom. Don’t worry, I can’t handle the truth and I really don’t mind. Like I said I want it to be fair. For all people on the playing field. I would love feedback!

Adding on to that note, as I said before life is really changing for me. In a way that quite frankly leave me feeling…unsure. So, I don’t know if I job I got will have me on full time or part time, I don’t know. They haven’t told me and I won’t find out till Thursday from what I understand. I don’t know what my schedule will look like but, the one thing I promise to to make time for you guys and Ray, so, just be prepared for a shift and a bit of change in how and when content is posted. The answering questions. On the Monday, Wednesday, and Friday really work for me but, it might change. So, that all, good morning or good night, maybe good afternoon. Drink and eat babes. For those with a job, get that money! ❤️

[caffeineaddictedturtle]

Is this what you call self-care?

idol!Felix × afab!Reader genre: fluff, slice of life, established relationship warning(s): usage of curse words, no beta we die like man an: i explain it here

It was a regular Saturday for you, waking up at 6 AM and feeling your boyfriend's arm around you. After you turn your alarm off, you turn to look at him, smiling. His long, blond hair fell into his angelic face. It is so hard to not say fuck it and stay in bed with Felix, but you—with the smallest of movements to not wake him—get out of bed, making your way to the bathroom to get ready. After you get yourself into some comfy stay-at-home-and-study clothes, you brew yourself a cup of coffee with some coconut milk.

You've been researching for your midterm paper for a while now. It wasn't the worst topic, but selecting what's important and what isn't is where you were hopeless.

After restarting it for the hundredth time, you heard movements from your bedroom. You peeked out of the study/gaming room to see Felix's tired face, which filled your heart with warmth. "Good morning, love. How did you sleep?" He looked back at you while he grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge. "I slept well until some gremlin left from next to me way too early this morning." A smile crept up his face, reaching out for your hand so he could pull you in for a hug. He kept you close with one hand, resting his face on your head while you hid in the crook of his neck. His sweet scent filling your nose. "How's your university work going?" you scrunch your face, not even wanting to think about the research and writing your essay. "Well, I read a lot, but I do not know where to begin or what things are the necessities to put into my paper." You felt yourself wanting to throw a tantrum like the 5-year-old who you are at heart. He kissed your forehead, then put his pinky out. "Okay, I have a trade offer; once you're halfway done, we can play on our farm together." Your eyes lit up. You've been pretty hooked on Stardew Valley for a while now, especially since the new update, and you got Felix to play with you on his days off. Sadly, they've been pretty busy with their comeback, so you couldn't hang out as much. He usually got home by the time you were asleep, and you went to class or to the library to learn before he woke up, since it was soon time for your final exams. You only have one year back from your university, and you don't want setbacks, so it is important to get a good grade. Your parents would be pleased as well since you flew to another city to learn specifically there, so you want to make them proud. You link your pinkies together to form an unbreakable promise. "Okay, but no distractions! If you want to play, please play in the living room; we both know I won't ever finish my assignment with you distracting me." He chuckles and nods his head in agreement. You happily made yourself another cup of coffee, then went back to the study to work on your task. You still cannot believe it that you somehow snagged such a perfect man: he is supportive, understands your concerns, and can always accept your compromises. He openly talks to you about how he feels and bravely tells you if something bothers or concerns him. You honestly can't believe these past couple years have been real.

You've made a bit of progress; it helped that you talked with your old dorm roommates—you moved in with Felix about half a year now; you two realized that it would be the easiest since you went over any given chance anyways. They gave some good suggestions. Once you caught up with each other, you four said your goodbyes, since all of you have a lot of work to get done by the end of this month. After some time, you smelled a sweet scent coming from the kitchen. The door opened before you could sneak out to have a peek. Felix brought in your favorite cookies; it was a mixture of his classic chocolate chip and your oatmeal cookies recipe. You two perfected it while he got some time off, and you didn't have school just yet. His brown eyes looked at you proudly behind the plate of cookies with milk in his other hand. "How's your progress, baby?" He bent down to give you a peck on the lips. You waited until he put the plate and the cup down, then patted the ground next to you, signaling for him to sit down. He didn't waste any seconds, and plopped right next to you, happy that he could sit beside his girlfriend. Felix didn't want to make you feel pressured; he just wants to spend as much time as possible with you before he has to go back to endless dance practice, content creation, etcetera. You both know he loves doing what he does, but it can get overwhelming sometimes. They got cussed out a lot for the smallest of things, getting bullied and going as far as getting death treats. He was grateful for being able to work his dream job, and he is also happy that you understand what this kind of life comes with.

Felix watched you type your thoughts out in your document and started to play with your hair, which made you relax instantly. You couldn't help but melt into his touch. You leaned onto his shoulder, feeling exhausted. "I am almost done with half of my assignment; I just need another page, but I feel like my brain cells are giving up on me." He chuckled, placing a kiss on your head. "You got this; I believe in you." He started giving kisses all around your face, which soothed your tired thoughts. Felix eventually kissed your lips; the kiss was sweet and made you feel like you're under the sun at the beginning of the spring. You reciprocated immediately, feeling as though time had stopped—no tasks, no school, no pressure—just you and him tangled together in a complete state of Nirvana. Before it could get heated, Lixie pulled away, holding you firmly, so he kept up his strenght to not distract you further. "Is it okay if I play Zelda while I lay in your lap?" You saw a hint of pink on his face, making you smile. "Well, I am close to finishing it, so why not? I don't think it can cause any harm." Felix got up excitedly to get his switch with his headphones. He laid down and got comfortable, then started playing his game. He has been quite into it lately. The game was beautiful, and there were a lot of things to do. The excitement in him got you into playing it, asking for his help in some harder situations.

When you got done with half of your paper, you looked down and saw a sleeping Felix with a gaming console on the ground next to him. He looked so peaceful like this: his pink lips parted, his eyelashes casting shadows on his face, and his freckles painting constellations onto his features. You can't help but start connecting the dots on his face with your fingers, making his eyes flutter as he awakens. "What are you doing, gorgeous?" You lean down to kiss him as a response. You feel like you're going to explode with all the feelings inside your chest. "I am done with half of my paper; I didn't want to wake you, sorry." You pout just a little, earning a smile as he reaches for your face to caress it. "That's my good girl. Are you ready for some farming time?" You nod, knowing that you're going to end up either playing until the sun gets up again or none at all and will end up cuddling in bed.

You two made some lunch and plopped down besides each other. Your desks have been set against one another, his PC taking up one desk while yours is cluttered by notes and books for your university courses; you just keep pushing it back each time you take your laptop out instead of organizing it. Felix tried to reason with you or help with that mess, but that's how you were, looking unorganized yet knowing exactly what is where, always on point. That's what your grades always reflect: perfect or almost perfect scores, even though you procrastinate until the last minute. He smiled to himself, knowing how he and the boys wished they had this superpower.

You put on your two's favorite chill playlist and booted up the game. We made a lot of progress, stopping to occasionally show physical affection for each other or taking a quick bathroom or snack break. I didn't even notice how the time flied until you looked down on your watch, seeing that it had passed five a.m. "Yongbok, we have a problem. Have you checked the time?" He has been so into the game that he almost looked up into the corner to see the in-game time, realizing that this might become a problem in the future. "Oh shit, I didn't notice when it got this late. I mean, I am going to be okay; I won't work for a couple of days now, but when do you need to send this assignment in?" he asked, knowing damn well that you have a habit of sending in your tasks with one minute left on the clock, giving him a scare. One time, Chan got to see your study progress and felt his soul leave his body. He still remembers how he and Han watched how their leader scolded you about your academics and your attitude towards your learning, painting a picture of an overworked father lecturing his rebellious daughter, who—no matter what she's doing—will always be his treasure. It never got said out loud, but you became the younger sister of the group, with all the older members looking out for your happiness and safety. And Felix isn't sure that if you two ever break up—which, let's face it, is highly unlikely—he wouldn't get the shorter stick and wouldn't get scolded.

Once you two saved and logged off for the day, got ready for bed, you snuggled close to each other leaving sweet kisses on one another, fighting the strong urge to sleep. When he heard your breathing change, he knew that you were fast asleep, what he waited for all along. It makes him happy and calm, knowing you are asleep. He pressed a light kiss on your forehead.

"Good night, my love," and with that, he dozed off to sleep as well.

masterlist ║request something

[biancasaidstfu]

You seem a bit more reasonable than the others. Therefore, I’d like to know if you’ve ever contemplated the thought that maybe Nicola is actually dating Jake, and Luke is dating Antonia? I simply do not understand the necessity of Nicola and Luke to have all of this PR mess before/during/after their season ended? Why the need to keep Antonia around? What could she possibly know that has Luke’s hands tied up? I simply cannot get behind that theory. It just makes more sense that Luke and Nicola are dating other people at the moment.

Omg that’s like a years worth of info to try and explain why I feel this way and I don’t believe they’re dating these other people.

It’s a mixture of a lot of things, but I think not allowing yourself to look deeper at the industry examples out there and the overall performative nature of a lot of what we see from both Luke and Nicola is limiting your ability to see beyond what’s right in front of you.

It’s easier to accept what you see at face value which a lot of people do, rather than look beyond it. It gets complicated but it makes far more sense.

I need to really try and gather all the fine points of how I got here. But like I said it’s over a year’s worth now.

Maybe I can try and make a bit of a master list of the asks and posts on this blog that represent these things for easier access.

[corner-collects-rocks]

im curious if renee actually thought jean was the right person, wrong time or if she said it to try and give jean a chance to move on.

(this is probably gonna get rambly and stop making sense but im tired and thinking so enjoy what my head organ has chosen to provide)

i head canon renee as aroace so that plays a factor into this but; i think renee was trying to help jean move forward whilst still leaving herself open to talk to. the reason renee and jean start talking is because neil asks her to reach out. i do think they had a genuine friendship and maybe they both had feelings for each other but i dont think renee did.

personally i think renee seeks companionship over partnership. i think thats also why her dynamic with andrew works so well. i dont think either of them were interested in each other romantically but they could find value in seeking out each others company. i think she was striving for a similar dynamic with jean, and jean (bless his poor bisexual soul) was attracted to renee in part because she was beautiful but also because they don’t really have rainbows in the nest. renee was one bright thing when dealing with the torture he endured in the nest. (think of it like a one sided trauma bond, or like a “the waiter was nice to me i think they might be in love with me” type of deal)

i havent read all the EC but im pretty sure we dont get to know much of what jean and renee discuss. in general (iirc) it seems a lot of what we see from renee is her offering jean kindness and some safety in a place where all of his had been striped away.

also after jean moves out to california renee isnt something he really dwells on (fair enough moving is rough on its own, let alone leaving a cult) i understand that renee is also something jean chooses to keep private even from us the readers(shout out the literal end of the golden raven filling us in that they text REGULARLY) but from what i’ve seen people tend to think about their situationships a lot even after they move on since they tend to leave more of an impression since the human brain loves to dwell on “what could’ve been”

anyway i’ve lost my train of thought with this, if i find it i may reblog w/ more thoughts. in conclusion, jeanee (whatever their shipname is idk) works better as a platonic dynamic and renee walker is aroace and i love her!!! also petition for renee to be jeans best man at the wedding, or have cat and renee co-best man.

Sincerely, Corner

P. S. nora please please please let renee and jean hang out in the broken cage. as a treat!! like even if its only for a little bit after a game or something (trojans play at foxes stadium and they go out after or whatever) i think they deserve a debrief! and renee i think would like to hear how jeans list has grown (because oh boy has it) and my girl deserves to see some good come to her after all the shits shes seen!! renee walker ily and ur awesome and holy shit u deserve so much. i want to know so much more abt u diva. so much. please nora i am begging you.

[teethmongerrr]

Helloooo!!! The ask about tenna's history with the dreemurrs made me realize: what's mettatons whole deal and/or backstory? Like we don't have the ghost or the robot body stuff with him, so how does he meet alphys? Are we keeping the whole dysphoria and 'not having the right body'? (beams him with my transgender ray.) What's his relationship with his family like? sorry if this is unorganized, didn't really know how to word this one, keep up the amazing work!!!! I'm loving everything about this au!! :3

No apologies required this is good..

AND OF COURSE HES TRANSGENDER‼️‼️‼️

I would never take his transmasculine swag from him that’s sacrilege… important…

BUT ANYWAY LOL. He had agoraphobia inducing levels of dysphoria pre-transition ( though , I don’t think that level of dysphoria just goes away completely post transition. He’s way better now but it still bites him sometimes) but I think he’d go out every once and a while (accompanied by Napstablook typically)

I Like to imagine him and Alphys had a sort of a platonic meet-cute in a video rental store. Like going for the same movie when there’s only one left or something tee hee. And they end up watching it together at Mettaton’s and forming a pseudo human fan club (more of a film/show Fanclub. They watch movies and tv together idk LOL)

I struggle making an equivalent to her LITTERALLY designing and making his body… but the idea that she just drew him as an anime boy once or something and then he had a moment like… wait… what if I did that…. And she tells him it’s possible. Like…. What if her support alone builds him the same way. Guys. Is this thing on. Guys. Gripping the mic. Guys.

As for his relationship with his family, I can only really. Imagine him living with his cousins.. and I think the three of them had been living together for a while. (I don’t know where the parents are it’s one of those things I’ll have to think about) but I think that Napstablook is a bit older and was Mettaton and Mew Mew’s legal guardian for most of their tweenage - early adulthood years.

And Napstablook does their best obviously but being a sensitive pushover (no offense) and pretty young to be taking care of the two of them adds some struggle.

I think Mettaton, very opposite to how he lives his life now, spent a lot of his childhood trying his best to be easy to manage. forgettable.

There was a big strain in his relationship with his family that was nobody’s fault in particular. Suffocating himself out of pure habit, on a long term corked spiral until he met Alphys and he knew he had to change or die. The massively built fear of the feelings of it all making him feel like the only option was to vanish and come back someone else.

Currently he has come back that new person and told them everything and apologized. Mew mew still gets bitter but over all forgives him and Napstablook is very understanding and is more so sad that they couldn’t figure out how to reach out to him before he left.

YA! Hope this answers your question….

[soundop-central]

RE: your post about rebranding to megasound-central. I've always thought the best flavour of megop has soundwave squeezed in the middle, and the best flavour of wavewave has megatron off to the side only half in frame. Which is to say megasound too also is only improved by optimus being in there somewhere. I understand you.

AJDBWIXBWIZWH

megasoundop is the only brand of megop that i can tolerate, not even going to lie.

i just think that both of them need a sort of buffer there. soundwave fundamentally understands megatron (imo), and has a knack for coming to deep and accurate conclusions about others. meaning that if he spent enough time with optimus, he'd probably end up liking him.

ive always shipped megasound, like how ive always shipped wavewave and optiratch. there is so many of my favourite dynamic tropes wrapped up in this ship (i.e.: knight/lord, guard dog/leash holder, devotee/idol, etc.). i've always liked ships that have subtle power dynamics wrapped up in a morally grey (or straight up evil) bow. megasound has always been "universe's worst enabler/universe's worst warlord" to me.

i havent always shipped soundop. i actually pavlov'd myself into shipping it just because i came up with a really funny crack au that accidentally sent soundop careening from "silly nonsense" to "oh god, they're actually really good". soundop isn't as cut and dry to me as megasound- there arent a lot of dynamic tropes that actually fit them, so it's hard to quantify in simple terms what their relationship would be like. but its based on agreements, a mutual acknowledgment of the past and the future, respect and understanding. it's a lot of work, but it's rewarding.

i love both megatron and optimus as characters, and i totally recognize why the fandom ships them (ESP the idw and tfo side) (though, side note, i do actually like dpax; my opinion on megop is very nuanced and continuity dependent.) either way, i just dont see it working after literal millions of years of war without someone to act as a sort of mediator. whether that be in a romantic or platonic position, its up to whoever is doing the interpreting; but here's my take.

so we've got this guy (soundwave) who's basically sworn to this other guy (megatron), and the depth of his oath has become pretty muddy to both of them, even teetering on blasphemous if one looks hard enough. their (now ex-) enemy is an all around pretty Okay dude (optimus). while he's definitely tried to destroy everything they've done, they have also tried to do the exact same thing to him. and now that it's all done and over with...

well hey, why not? optimus seems amicable. he's definitely still sympathetic to them; remembering their time together before the degeneration that the war had become. maybe it would be worth it to try and test the waters.

i see it as an enemies to friends to lovers deal on all sides. everyone has to want it, has to work towards it, has to put in that effort.

soundwave is very suspicious of optimus at first, and frustrated that megatron would simply welcome him in so easily. optimus has to earn soundwave's trust. soundwave is protective of megatron- it's hard to undo 4 million years of protecting him from the very person he's now let in their home.

optimus is, understandably, a bit intimidated by how... intense... the vibe is. he feels like he's constantly in hostile territory. but he also knows that he's the odd man out. he resents having to earn his place, but also understands that if they want to have any hope at success, he needs to have soundwave's trust.

megatron is... both delighted and cautious. he's probably the one who's walking the thinnest line. it was his idea, he's the one who kept touch with optimus, he's the one who wanted to at least try. he convinced soundwave, no easy feat, and optimus, only slightly easier. he has the trust of two people that he cares very much about on the line.

it's definitely stressful.

both optimus and megatron are stubborn mechs. megatron has a temper and optimus has a no nonsense attitude. both of them can bicker back and fourth for hours, and to anyone on the outside, it would look like a normal conversation. yet, it is bickering, and despite how much both of them try to deny their own internal feelings, it does leave them a bit more hollow each time.

megatron never wants to apologize; he can only admit fault if he's given irrefutable proof of wrong doing. it's like pulling teeth.

meanwhile optimus is trying so hard to be reasonable, but also firm in his stances. he wishes to help both soundwave and megatron adjust to a life without war- while he can barely do that himself.

but soundwave, at first, would be doing this for megatron. as always, he's the self-sacrificer, the one who will do whatever is asked in order to further their goals. that much hasn't changed, even if the rhetoric has. yet, as time goes on, he slowly begins to enjoy this arrangement. which is something he never expected.

soundwave is adaptable and level headed; able to parse out fact and fiction within a blink of an eye. as he slowly grows more confident in his identity beyond just being megatron's most trusted, he finds himself growing more and more satisfied by finding another ship in the sea that is loving megatron.

anyway, tl;dr - they're gay. painfully so. theyre also traumatized and like not having a good time usually. but they're trying to fix that and make it work. and if that isn't real love idk what is.