#and it is in moments like these that i have to hope and pray that nobody i know irl knows my tumblr 🙏

[caladblog]

i know right know everyone's (correctly!) obsessed with arno for throwing that Molotov cocktail onto the jamis/remy slow burn but i have to impress upon u all just how unwell i am about how luck/maldoror is about ludovica seriously they're like

i'm an evil god. i'm ten thousand past lives in one lesbian trenchcoat. i could kill you any moment. you're not afraid of me? what's wrong with you? be afraid. call me if you need anything. i'm only helping you out of boredom. i'm not impressed by you. you're fascinating. i want to give you the world. i want to raze the cities of your enemies. i'm not giving you my secrets. what do you mean, you're back to find my secrets?? don't you have any sense of self-preservation? oh ok that's a no then. haha same. i've got the sinking suspicion you might be dangerous to me specifically but whatever it's not like i'm the god of good decisions. i'm the manifestation of divine rage and loneliness. i'll physically fight my other selves if they try to hurt you. girl i think you got me experiencing the mortifying ordeal of being known? i don't know what's going on but here's the means to achieve all your hopes & dreams. i'm a pirate. i'm made to destroy the world. you asked me why i haven't destroyed the world yet, oh my god, who DOES that?? tell me to kiss your ring so i can smirk and call you arrogant. you're a baby. you're a speck of nothing. pray and i shall personally answer. no of course i don't have a coherent plan, why did you even ask at this point!

and that's not even as a character arc that's just like! all at once! chaotic monster feelings that stem from being simultaneously a thousand versions of the same monster but also a single person and who knows why anybody wants anything but this want is undeniable as a rising wave and they're excited to find out if they drown in it, appetite of their own appetite,,

hh.

[reshinless]

Been seeing alot of spiderman Kinich content on the clock app and this gave me an idea

Reader gets gwen stacy'd and kinich fails to save them lol then he wakes up and then they bang

──── through the phone mask

⠀ ۪ ⠀✧ synopsis. before he goes, how about a peck, yeah through his mask!

⠀ ۪ ⠀✧ pairings. spiderman!kinich x gn!afab!reader (this will end up in smut, so !!NSFW CONTENT AHEAD!!) angst + comfort (in a way?? death mention but no actual death happens! just a bad dream)

⠀ ۪ ⠀✧ director's notice. oooo i could not stop thinking about this during class!!

"mwa!" you cheer- briefly backing away as you admire you boyfriend, kinich, that puts his mask on. you pray that this spiderman stuff didn't pressure him at all.

"mmm... one more?" as he turned around to face you again. you chuckled as you tilted your head, stepping closer to the window sill he crouched on. "one more? i think you've had enough for today." a teasing tone present in you sonorously.

he gave you a pleading look in hopes to earn accolade (in which this case is a kiss. or two. or three.) you could giggle, feeling the way he still tried to kiss you through the mask he wore, concealing his identity to all, except you of course.

"mmmwa!" you brush your lips against the fabric that kept all of this a secret. you were so pretty when you smiled. he likes that little dimple that appears on your cheek when you grinned- or maybe the mole on your neck right there. mmmaybe he should count them soon.

but when there's a moment where kinich saves everyone but you, he'd never forgive himself. when there's a moment where kinich can catch everyone when they're falling but you. when there are gonna be moments that only star him, and missing you. like how a seed would long for a soil bed, or how the moonlight doesn't shine without its sun.

he was terrified of losing someone as precious as you were. for as long as you both lived, he wanted to spend as much time with you. his love language was all about spending time with you, and doing things for you, he knew you could handle yourself, but he loves knowing you rely on him for a few things (even if they're simple). so losing you would be losing a huge part of himself.

in all the years you both got to spend together, you spent it along side your best wingwoman; mualani. growing up by both of your sides, he never felt alone, or unneeded. he felt everything was finally coming together.

so when he saw the scene before him- it was you. being stabbed in the stomach by a spike below the now-broken bridge. even in death you were so pretty. your head was laid down on his lap, barely opening your eyes, just enough to let a few tears trickle down the softness of your cheeks.

"i'm.. sorry i couldn't do enough for you." were the words you whispered, holding his cheek before finally passing on to the next world.

no he couldn't handle the scene at all. and only now is when he realizes- he should spend more time. he'll make sure you won't feel like that when he meets you again. he knows he'll recognize you. he'd know you from anywhere, anytime, any appearance, anywho.

kinich wakes up in tears, clear tear stains on the place he rest his face into. your pjs have small marks, drops of tears where they'd landed off his face. your eyes flutter open a few seconds later, realizing he's no longer in your arms.

"kin? wh.. what's wrong? why are you crying?" you immediately got up to wipe the small sobs off his cheeks. "..you're still here.. thank god, you're still here." he suddenly hugs you, fitting his head into your nape. his hold was tight, and affectionate. enough to know that he's happy that you're still present.

"yeah, i'd never leave. was.. was it a dream?" you asked, massaging his scalp to soothe his stress. he could only hum in response, he felt a little pathetic to admit that he was, but it was the first step to accepting it.

"do.. you ever feel like i'm mistreating you?" his head popped up from the spot it was previously. "what? no you're not. in fact, i feel like i'm not doing enough for you, baby." you chuckle, shifting your head to front him a little better.

"you've done more than you think for me." his hand held a soft grasp on your palm, you could feel a few scars on his hand. "really? i find it hard to believe." you let out a giggle, certainly a superhero who does things to make sure the city is a safe place for all, feels like you do more? that was in your point of view anyway.

"may.. i show you how much i can repay you then? i want to show you.. i want you to feel how thankful i am that you're here."

whatever it was in that dream of his definitely helped yours come true. "mmm, someone's ahhn- enjoying, ngh themselves.." he grunted out, hitting you from behind so good, you can't do anything but sit there and take it.

you could feel every little ridge on his dick, the sweat emitting from your body, combined with the drops spouting from the pores of his palms. damn you couldn't even hold your own moans back in courtesy for the people in the next dorm. "mmmffffuckkk.. s'good kin.." you whined, you shut your eyes in ectasy

he throws his head back, groaning at the sight of your plush ass barely swallowing his shaft each time. every shlick only made you even wetter. you could feel his length twitching inside you, each time he hit your very core.

your folds felt so insanely good, wrapping around the base of his dick so well, even inside you it felt so warm. the way you were basically getting stretched out, it reached even further into you, in his observation seeing how your eyebrows knitted- he assumed you liked it like that, kissing your insides!

he slowed the pace of his sloppy thrusts briefly to reach over for the phone on the nightstand. "you mind if we take a photo, pretty? love the way you look right now, 'd hate to miss such a face."

he'd be too busy admiring your face to realize how long he'd been grinding against your precious spot. he knew exactly how to make you use the expressions he wanted.

kissing your neck hungrily, making sure you face the camera as it recorded, letting it see all of you.

watching how your body reacted to his so well, he couldn't help but coo into your ear about how good you were doing.

"such a pretty kitty, mmm? and they're all mine aren't they? he continued, on the edge of the bed- making sure you see yourself in the mirror in front of you.

"this is what i admire everyday. hnnn.. s'tight, fffuck.." he groaned into you, letting you sit on his dick, riding it while watching his reaction through the mirror.

you couldn't help but piston your hips repeatedly, you were already so wet, might as well put it to use!

he held your hand throughout everything, squeezing it every now and then to indirectly ask if you're doing okay. kissing down from your nape to your shoulder blades, you were perfect from the ground till your ears.

for what seemed like the umpteenth time, he cums inside you. warm seed shoots up into your body, creaming on his cock at the same time.

kinich who holds you by the waist, feeling his cock slowly soften inside you. still trying to catch his breath- but still makes an effort to kiss your cheek.

still makes an effort to carry your trembling body to the bathroom. still makes an effort to clean you up. still makes an effort to eat you out slowly afterwards.

he who already misses you while you were still in the room. he couldn't help but cuddle with you for a bit before going out again. it was sunday already anyway, and he spent the moments where the sun rose elsewhere (eating you out/giving bj)

kinich who loved the idea of making out with you right after, still having to go out since you both spent the whole night.. intimately. half of his mask is still on but all you do is lift it up a little, enough for his lips to be visible enough for you to peck.

he makes sure you're sound asleep before he goes, he'll be back before you know it anyway.

[monimccoythings]

The Beast Within

Sooo I was trying to write a feral!Logan but this oneshot crossed my mind and I just went along with it. I'll write the feral!logan I want to write when I finish the Wolverine's 1988 run. I think I remember mentioning back in my Retired!Logan headcanons that shall danger come for his family he would be ready and waiting. I wanted to dwell on that.

Summary: You awake only to find yourself and your daughters tied up by some unknown men that wnat to roleplay their wildest and scariest fantasies. Your only hope to survive lies on your husband; a man that gang would soon know they shouldn't have messed with.

Word count: 3087

tags: slight feral!logan, a bit of horror, gn!reader, happy ending, Logan loves his family and will kill for them. A bit ooc Wolverine.

tw: blood, death, attempted rape, non-con elements, kidnapping, swear words.

It had all happened so quickly. One moment you were entering your home with your daughters in tow, and the next, you were being knocked out by some masked men.

When you opened your eyes, you found yourself unable to move, having been tied to a chair, the cords against your wrists and ankles cutting into your blood flow. Yet you didn't fear for your life.

Desperately you looked around for Laura and your youngest child. Silently praying those assholes hadn't reached them. You nearly bursted into tears when you saw Laura tied to the couch, still knocked out like a light, but fine nevertheless; but that relief was short lived when you saw one of the men holding your youngest in his arms.

"Well, look who's finally up! I'm so glad you could join us."

You mentally counted them, There were about five burly men. All masked, to conceal their identities. A shiver ran down your spine when you saw they were all armed.

"Why are you doing this? What do you want?" Your mind went overdrive with the amount of possibilities. Where they from an anti mutant group? Have you been found out?? Logan had made sure your tracks were covered so nobody would know who and what he and the children were. Where they robbers, then?

"Hmm why would people do what they do?" The supposed leader of the group dramatically pondered. "Us humans always worry about norms, etiquette, social behavior, we repress ourselves..." you let the man rant about how our real animal natures were suppressed by society, you didn't care too much for that, too busy finding different ways to free yourself and save your kids.

"So, to answer your question. We do this for fun. Because we can. Because we aren't afraid to show who we really are." You felt the blood in your veins freeze when you felt the disgusting hand come near your crotch. These people were insane. If they were just robbers, you could just let them take whatever they wanted and wait until they left. Material things could be replaced, but his words implied something much much worse for you.

"Please, just take what you want and leave!" You knew you had to do something, anything just to keep those men away from your babies, just buy enough time for Logan to-

Logan! Yes, he would sense something was wrong, and come for you all! You just-

The man licked a long streak from your collarbone to your cheek, his hungry depraved eyes mirroring those of his accomplices.

"Oh, we are going to take it indeed." He licked his lips in anticipation, his fingers lazily undoing the buttons of your shirt. You felt the cold air in your exposed skin.

"Listen. My husband will come soon. You need to leave now that you can-"

He forcefully grabbed your chin, forcing you to look into his empty cold eyes. You didn't find any source of empathy or humanity there. His free hand started to unbutton your jeans.

"Then, he can watch."

The lights went out after that, startling the man and his crew. Some let out a few curses.

"Shut the fuck up! It's just the fucking lights!" The man bellowed towards the rest of the group. He signaled with his head towards the most dimwitted looking member. "Beta! Go check the fuse box!"

The man obediently complied with his orders. The fact that you could barely see, didn't do well for your nerves. They could strike any moment.

Minutes passed and the dude nicknamed 'Beta' hadn't returned. Which was weird, because the fusebox was in a small broom closet at the other end of the cabin, and the cabin wasn't really Charles Xavier's Mansion. You could tell that the man giving the orders was already starting to lose his patience.

"Dumb fuck, can't do shit by himself..." He mumbled. "Gamma! Go tell that stupid bitch to hurry the fuck up!" He turned towards you a terrifying smile on his face "I just can't wait to see the look in your eyes when we break you and the kids."

That was enough for you to lunge towards him, parental instincts activating like crazy. Unfortunately there was little you could do with your limited mobility. He grabbed a fistful of your hair and pulled painfully, you felt tears burning at the corner of your eyes but you refused to give him the pleasure of watching you cry.

"Listen here you little slut. Only I get to bite, only I get to kick, and when I'm done with you l, you'll be-"

"Alpha, he ain't here!" 'Gamma''s voice could be heard from the hall. That only fueled 'Alpha's' impatience.

"I ask him a simple task and he fucking gets lost! Look better or none of you are having a piece of this whore!!"

His eyes turned back to yours. A hungry, wicked look crossed them. His mouth went towards your neck, as much as you tried to resist you couldn't pull away from his strong hold in your hair. You let out a scream when he bit you, praying that he hadn't bitten hard enough to draw blood, but that only seemed to encourage him, just as his tongues was lapping at the bruising bitemark you heard someone scream from the end of the hall.

"OH FUCKING SHIT!!"

*bang*

*bang*

And then nothing. That seemed to alert the group, the leader, Alpha, immediately pulling away and releasing you from his vice grip.

"The fuck was that!?" He commanded "Beta! Gamma! Answer now!"

No answer.

With your heart in your throat you quickly took deep breaths, trying to recover a sense of calmness and normalcy that you knew was long lost. But you had to. Your kids were still unconscious you needed to protect them.

"Sigma. Get out and secure the perimeter."

'Sigma' didn't look very convinced but as long as he released your little baby girl everything would be fine. You could practically feel the hesitation in him as he lowered your daughter onto the nearest armchair and quietly exited the living room, gun in hand.

"Whatever the fuck is trying to screw with us, is going to learn this 'pack' doesn't go down easily."

Minutes passed of eery silence, each minute felt like agonizing hours. You thought it would never end until you heard a blood curling scream followed by the sound of glass breaking and something splattering against the walls.

That's when you heard it. An animalistic snarl. It was faint, but it was definitely there and filled your heart with hope like no other. This time you were surely going to cry from joy.

He had arrived.

You were saved.

Tears fell freely down your cheeks, you couldn't help the broad smile that formed in your features.

"Oh God he's here. He's here..." You repeated over and over like a mantra, as if you couldn't quite believe it.

"The fuck is this bitch talking about??" He backhanded you so roughly that you thought you saw stars, the sharp pain in your cheek was nothing compared to the huge relief you were feeling.

'Alpha' turned towards the last remaining member of his 'pack'. "What are you waiting for, dumbass?? Lock the fucking doors!"

The other guy didn't move for a few seconds, obviously scared at this dramatic turn of events. The tension between him and the leader was so thick you could cut it with a knife. You were sure he was wondering why he should risk his life for a plan that was going awry with each passing second. Maybe he was also considering shooting down 'Alpha' and be done with it.

Before he has time to live up that fantasy, he found himself looking straight at the end of 'Alpha's' Magnum. This was no longer a fun game for them. It had stopped being a game when 'Beta' hadn't returned.

"Lock. The fucking. Doors." 'Alpha's' voice was unusually quiet and full of promises of a world of pain if he disobeyed his orders. There was no other choice but to follow his lead, as always.

With trembling hands, the poor guy put the safety lock as best as he could. Once done, he breathed a sigh of relief, believing him safe.

Until a massive arm, broke through the glass of the door and grabbed him by the neck, lifting him a couple of inches off the ground. The man kicked and struggled, trying in vain to reach for his gun. When the hand released him, he hurriedly went for it before he was grabbed again but was stopped by three metal claws piercing through his skull, killing him instantly. The man fell to the ground like a ragdoll.

"Shit." 'Alpha' whispered, feeling for the first time that night true fear. "Shitshitshitshitshit!" His panic grew as he saw the killer of his 'packmate' kick the doors open as if it was nothing.

You couldn't see him, but you knew he was pissed like he had never been before.

*BANG*

*BANG*

*BANG*

'Alpha' fired bullet after bullet towards him. A single shot would have taken down a grown man. But this wasn't a normal man. Oh no, they had just gone after the family of one of the most dangerous men to ever live.

Logan slowly stepped into the moonlight and your breath caught in your throat. From his beard, to his clothes, blood was dripping, but not from the gunshotwounds, those were already healed. His sharp teeth, bared in a feral snarl were stained with blood, having used them to tear through flesh and bone. The icing on the cake were his eyes, those eyes that looked at you with so much tenderness and lust, that crinkled with happiness when they saw his little ones run towards him; they were just empty, void of any rational thought.

You shuddered at his primal display.

The man known just as 'Alpha' took a step back. For all his talk about how he didn't repress from his animal urges and how he was an alpha male, he found himself small and insignificant in the presence of a real animal. Every adamantium coated bone in Logan's body exuded dominance, power, strength; it was overwhelming. 'Alpha' knew if he didn't play his cards well he would end up like the rest of his 'pack' or worse.

Cold sweat formed on your forehead when the gun pointed towards you.

"One more step, and I'll shoot." His voice was deadly quiet, but you could hear the fear hidden behind all that bravado.

Logan stopped, a low growl building up in his throat. His eyes quickly darted towards yours and returned towards his enemy. You knew you had little time, as long as the 'Alpha' kept his eyes locked on Logan's; he wouldn't dare shoot you unless he wanted to have the slowest and most painful death there was, he just needed to think for a better plan of action, which gave you a wonderful opportunity to ponder about how you were going to get out safely, you had to act fast enough to give Logan some margin.

As quiet as you could muster, you started balancing yourself from side to side. Each second that passed increased your chances of ending up with a hole in your chest. A couple of swings more and-

"AAAAAAAAARRRGGGGHHH"

'Alpha' roared in pain when Laura out of nowhere, sunk her teeth and bone claws on his leg. Unfortunately, as a reflex, he accidentally pressed the trigger.

You would never be sure about how you got so lucky that night, as you fell sideways with the chair, the bullet barely grazed your shoulder. You had evaded death miraculously and there was a new hole in the wall.

Logan didn't waste his opportunity. Before 'Alpha' had the chance to kick Laura off his leg, he freed his claws and with a swift motion slashed his yugular vein with two clean cuts.

The blood splattered on his chest and face like a fountain. Alpha's body went limp and fell lifeless to the side. You let out a sigh in relief, as tears ran again freely down your cheeks.

The nightmare was over.

But not for Logan.

For a couple of seconds, he just stood there, breathing heavily, and coated in blood. Laura stood at his feet, looking at him apprehensively, as if sensing there was something wrong.

"Logan." You called for him reassuringly, but he didn't even look at you. You doubted he had heard you. His fists were clenching and unclenching, his knuckles were turning white. The veins in his arms bulged against the swollen muscles. His breaths came out in short puffs of air. Whatever he was feeling right now, you needed to pull him out of it.

His head turned sharply when he heard your youngest stirring. He looked at his bloodied hands and finally looked at you with a mixture of panic and dread. He didn't know what to do.

"Laura. Laura, sweetheart, untie me." She snapped out from her stupor and quickly tore through the cords, freeing you at last. You massaged your wrists, hoping to return your bloodflow back to normal. As much as you'd have loved to rest there was no time to lose.

You understood Logan's fear. It was already painful enough for him to have Laura watching him when he was like that, he didn't want the other one to go through the same trauma.

You quickly rushed towads him and he flinched back, still in shock. "It is okay, Logan. We're safe. You saved us. I'm going to take the girls to her room okay? He barely nodded, his eyes unfocused. You would deal with him later, now the kids were a top priority.

You would heal together, later.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

He had scrubbed the floors clean until he thought he was going to pass out from the chemicals. He had hidden the bodies or whatever remained of them in a place where he knew nobody would ever look for them. Not that they'd be missed, he supposed.

It scared him how good he was at this. He should have gotten used to it by now, after all, he was the best at what he did, and what he did wasn't very nice.

It had been to good to be true. A sweet dream before waking up and facing reality. He had gotten sloppy and his family had paid the price. He didn't even know what those had wanted, nor did he care. One single look through the window and all sense of rationality had left his brain leaving only the animal that deep down he knew he was.

What would you think of him now? Did you regret marrying him? Knowing what he did was one thing, but actually witnessing it was another. What had transpired tonight would surely define your relationship for the rest of your lives

And Laura? He had worked so hard to erase the violence and trauma of her earlier years, to give her a normal childhood with a family. And he had just pulled her back.

He buried his face in his hands, grabbing chunks of his hair. He was a monster, an animal, a mindless-

He jumped and turned around with a snarl on his face and his claws ready when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Logan's tense muscles visibly relaxed when he saw it was just you, but he was still restless.

"Logan, it's okay. It's just me" You knew exactly was was crossing his mind. After years of knowing each other, you knew that the legendary Wolverine, the man that would take his secrets to his grave, could be easily read like an open book if you got close enough.

"Honey, this is not your fault. You came and saved us. We're here because of you." You couldn't bear the thought of him punishing himself over something that wasn't even his fault to begin with.

"I should have been there with you. I should have arrived sooner, then you wouldn't have to go through-" His gruff voice sounded so broken, so terrified, there was nothing you wanted more than to cradle him in your arms. "I'm a monster." He quietly whispered.

"You are not a monster. You. Are. Not. Not a monster, neither an animal." You cupped his face in your hands, looking into his eyes sternly.

"I-I lost control. I saw you there tied up and I lost it. Laura saw it, and our little-"

"Shhhh... They are alright. They are okay in their bedroom. Laura knew you were protecting us, she has always known." You ran your fingers through his wild hair, marvelling at how his tufts stayed up no matter the situation.

You gently guide him back into the house. You don't look at the toppled chair, or the hole in the wall, or the mountain of cleaning products. Neither of you wanted to think about that. When you reached the bedroom, you undressed each other, taking your time, memorizing every string of clothing. Your discarded attires formed a dirty and bloody pile in the corner.

Tenderly, like treating a very vulnerable creature, you cleaned his face, chest and hands with a towel. You could feel the raw power stored in that massive torso and hands, you knew what he could do with those. But you also knew how careful and soft he was around you and the girls.

You put on your comfiest pijamas and got ready for bed, leaving the mess of that night for the next day. Before he climbed in with you, Logan stopped and takes a step back.

"What's wrong?" You asked.

"Wait here." He hurriedly exited your bedroom, leaving you alone, baffled at his behavior. The last thing you wanted was to be left alone after that night.

Your initial confusion gave way to tenderness when you saw him return holding a daugther on each of his thick arms. Laura blinked groggily at you, annoyed at having been woken up from her slumber. You quickly craddled her in your arms, kissing her forehead.

Holding your youngest baby girl to his chest he got in bed, his free arm pulling you and Laura closer, trapping you in an embrace. He kissed your head, his soft breaths along with those of your daughters were enough to lull you to sleep.

You were safe.

Nobody was going to get you.

He would make sure of that.

[lostgirlmuseum]

Dancing Spies

Pairing: Bucky x gn!Reader 

Words: 900

Summary: You and Bucky are undercover at a ball and he’s not ready to let go of you.

Warnings: Reader is mentioned to have hair + height implied to be shorter than Bucky. Idc how tall you are, you're 6 feet? OK well in this universe Bucky is 7ft, etc lol. No use of y/n.

A/N: IM BACK BABY! Ok not really lmao this was 90% written since April 2022 (holy shit over a year before I even started posting here.) As always, sorry it’s short, sorry if it sucks, but also I’m not that sorry if it sucks because it’s short so it’s not like I’m wasting hours of your time. Idk if anyone is even going to read this.

Also: special thanks to @questionableratatouille00 for being so patient and kind to me. ❤️

divider cred: @saradika

“I didn’t realize you could dance,” you mumbled into his ear as you stepped in time to the soft music.

“Well, there wasn’t that much to do in the 30’s,” Bucky adjusted his grasp on your waist to be more comfortable, “with, y’know, the Great Depression and everything.”

“Ah, yes, a time of great prosperity, wasn’t it?”

“Definitely.” He gave a short chuckle, and continued to gaze around at the other couples dancing around him. He wasn’t avoiding your gaze—he was simply doing his job. At least, that’s what he tried to convince himself. 

A sweet chorus of piano and violin flew through the air, enchanting the large group of people into following in time. Despite his watchful eyes lingering upon the room for the past ten minutes, he couldn’t tell you any details.

How many couples were there? What was everyone wearing? How big was the dance hall? He could only guess, as his mind was solely focused on his steps, and the person in front of him: how close you stood next to him, how he could smell the faintest scent of lavender from your hair, how your hand sat so tenderly upon his shoulder, and how he wished he could take his gloves off so he could get a better feel of your gentle hand intertwined with his right. 

“How much longer, do you think?” you whispered.

“M’ not sure. Until Steve gives the signal, which could be anywhere from now to twenty minutes.” He only allowed himself a quick glance of you as he twirled you outward and back in.

“I doubt it’ll be twenty minutes. I think ten is more reasonable.” 

“It could be twenty,” he argued.

“That would be way too long, there’s too much risk in that.”

“Twenty minutes is fine. There’s nothing wrong with twenty minutes.”

Sensing you were looking at him, he met your gaze. 

Your eyebrow was slightly arched, and you gave him a small look of confusion at his strange… passion. Nevertheless, you dropped it, deciding not to question him.

He felt a slight tug of guilt at his heart for acting weird, but truthfully, he simply hoped this moment wouldn’t end. It felt right. He didn’t want to accept that it could be over so soon.

Naturally, as if the entire room was choreographed, everyone slowed as the song ended, and another started. This song was even slower than the last, and couples pulled each other close accordingly. 

You and Bucky did the same. 

Bucky’s breath hitched at the closer proximity, and he prayed you couldn’t feel his rapid heartbeat now that you were practically chest to chest, and both your arms were wrapped around his shoulders as his rested on your waist.

“Hey Bucky,” you said so quietly, it was barely a whisper.

“Yes?”

“I get that you’re trying to be alert, but you need to stop looking behind me. It’s not natural.” 

His cheeks flushed at your comment, though he wasn’t entirely sure why.

“Yeah, okay.” He hesitantly looked down and met your welcoming eyes.

“Better,” you softly smiled.

He curtly nodded.

They continued to slowly sway along with the music. But the tune only served as white noise for him as he couldn’t tear his eyes away from you. Luckily, you hadn’t caught him staring, since you had placed your cheek onto his chest, nuzzling into the warmth. 

He liked that you felt safe with him. Safe enough to rest your head on him. Safe enough to let him hold you with both hands, and not cower at what those hands had once done. 

His shoulders relaxed at the sound of a soft sigh from your lips.

“Comfortable?” He leaned his head down slightly to whisper into your ear.

“Mhm.” You confirmed.

“Tired?” He breathily laughed, seeing your eyes closed.

“Only a little,” you mumbled, keeping your eyes shut. 

He was content with where he was. It wasn’t the most familiar feeling for him, but he liked it. 

His thoughts were no longer focused on the mission(not that they ever really were—the second he found out that the two of you were meant to be a couple dancing on the main floor, he was distracted by you and the possibilities of what would happen,) and he remained focused on you. Your soft and slowing exhales, the affection you spawned in his chest, and how beautiful your hair looked. 

Seeing you at peace, put him at peace.

He could feel himself smiling as he watched you. His tongue flicked over his lips like it always does when he’s about to make a decision. He started to lean his head down to rest on top of your head when he paused.

Is this a good idea?

Screw it.

He rested his chin ever so carefully on your head, and couldn’t hold back his growing smile when you made no effort to move.

“I wish this was real life,” you sighed. “No more fighting. Just dancing.”

Motion from above caught his attention. Steve tipped his hat—the signal. 

Bucky just looked back. He continued to sway with you, shielding you from the outside world with his chest. 

Steve, slightly taken aback at his friend’s lack of action, tipped his hat twice more.

Bucky subtly shook his head and returned his gaze to you.

“Have we gotten the signal yet?” You murmured, eyes still closed.

“Not yet,” he whispered. “Let’s just dance.”

If you liked it pls let me know so I know I'm not just screaming into the void.

photo credit

[sturnprime]

BREAK AND FIX, chris sturniolo 🩵

from h ꨄ︎ ⎯ hi so first time writing anything like this very very nervy

i hope you enjoy 🩵 (join the taglist here)

rain pattered against the panes of the window, a sombre reflection of the current mood that filled the atmosphere. the room portrayed an almost movie like scene with mounts of tissues scattered across the floor and a tub of ice cream haphazardly tossed beside the bed.

it had been a month and you thought it was supposed to get better, thought that the aching sensation in your chest was supposed to disappear with time but it only seemed to be getting worse. books you read fed you this dream of getting over everything easily yet you sat snuggled under your covers, eyes with red rims and nose tinted with hints of painstaking rose that uncovered your mask of emotions.

the worst part was you didn’t think any of this was affecting chris as much as it was affecting you. your mind began questioning a bunch of things; whether or not he still loved you, if his current emotions were as pathetic as yours, if he was even sorry for ending things so abruptly. none of it made sense from the way things had been so perfect one second only to entirely crumble the next all the way down to that irritating voice in the back of your head that kept telling you, you should have somehow done more to make him stay or not desire to leave.

loud ringing from your phone that was resting on your pillow pulled you out of the trance you had unwillingly slipped into, your eyes widening slightly at the suddenness and even more so at the contact name that was displayed across the screen.

your fingers danced across the surface hesitantly, silently contemplating in your head whether or not answering the call was worth it. you wanted to be strong and pretend you could simply allow it to ring until it didn’t but there was a sort of gravitational pull that made your fingers have a mind of their own. you swiped to answer the call, met with a beat of silence that had you regretting everything within seconds before a heavy sigh was heard on the other end.

“i miss you so much, y’know that? can’t stop thinkin’ about you,” his words sliced through the air and your heart like a freshly sharpened knife, crimson painting your insides in a manner so harmful, you suddenly felt as though you couldn’t breathe.

what hurt more than anything was the slight slurring of his voice that told you he was drunk. surely the saying went that drunk words were sober thoughts but it felt like clutching onto air when you searched for genuineness within his actions.

for a moment you were paralysed, unable to speak or even move as you processed what he said but eventually your words found their way out and you prayed they didn’t showcase your distress towards everything, “you’re drunk chris.”

“baby it doesn’t matter,” his words were laced with a hint of desperation and for a fleeting moment it felt like he was about to apologise for one of your pointless arguments but the moment was gone as quick as you blinked and the reality of the situation doused over you like a bucket of ice-cold water.

“chris i’m not… look just hang up and we can pretend this never happened okay? you don’t know what you’re saying right now,” each word that left you sounded foreign to your own ears, your voice lacking the excitement it used to hold when you spoke to him and in its place there was a semblance of melancholy.

there was shuffling on the other end and you could faintly hear the sound of his brothers somewhere else in the house. the toggles in your mind turned because you had assumed chris was at some sort of party but now that you thought about it, the only noise from the other end was his speech. there was no music or obnoxious chatter, just him and the now gentle sound of his breathing. it almost made you cave, almost made the barriers you had built up come crashing down.

but you had to be strong because of course you could give in but who was to say you wouldn’t end up in the same place all over again, internally pleading for a different outcome. so you ignored the craving inside of you to allow his words to drape over you like a comforting blanket, instead mumbling out a small goodbye and ending the call before waiting for his response.

the hammering inside of your chest didn’t disappear when the phone call ended, it increased and you could feel your anxiety bubbling up to the surface. the only solution you deemed possible was to sleep it out, to fall into a land of dreams where the world and the problems you were facing didn’t seem nearly as daunting.

with a reluctant sigh, you placed your phone on your bedside table as well as your glasses and got more comfortable under your sheets, pressing your eyes shut and hoping sleep greeted you as a dear friend there to take away your worries.

apparently the universe was on your side and you felt your eyes slipping closed within a few minutes and before you knew it, black filled your vision insinuating you had fallen asleep. your mind rested as you slept, the concerns that were plaguing your head before now long gone and unable to reenter the gates of your blockage.

the crepuscular rays of the sun awoke you from your much needed sleep and you groggily rubbed your eyes as you sat up in bed. with a few minutes of required mental preparation for the day, you clicked your phone on and paused when you saw the notifications. hesitance flooded your veins but no doubt this would be about the night before so you pulled it together and tapped on the notification.

chris

I’m sorry I was so fucking drunk I didn’t even know I called you last night

Can we talk?

you

talk about what?

i get it you were drunk shit happens

chris

That’s not what I mean

I mean properly talk

you

what could you possibly have to say to me

chris

So fucking much you have no idea

Please just let me come over and if you want after that I swear you’ll never see or hear from me again

One chance

you

fine

chris

Thank you

Seriously.

I’ll come over in an hour?

you

okay

what the fuck had you just agreed to? you felt dizzy with the thought of seeing him after a month but you would be lying if you said there wasn’t a little part of you that was the good kind of nervous. you and chris were no longer together but the effect he had on you had not vanished into thin air the moment he left. it may have been pathetic but even the mere sound of his name still had you fighting butterflies that threatened to let loose in your stomach.

for the next hour as you got ready for the day and had a little breakfast, you felt lightheaded. the seconds seemed to turn into minutes and before you knew it, your doorbell was ringing. it was almost comical how once upon a time chris would have stormed into your house like it was his own and announced he was home but now the ringing echoed in your ears. it was a stark contrast to what you had grown accustomed to and you felt nauseous at the unfamiliarity.

with a sickly feeling consuming you, your feet made their own way to the front door as you opened it, met with the sight of chris with his hair even more disheveled than it usually was. to others it would appear normal but you knew chris better than most and the odd angles his hair was sticking up in was a telltale sign he was nervous. it was a little comforting, the fact that you were both on the same page with your emotions for a second or so.

you moved to the side to allow him access into the house, an usual silence settling amongst you. the two of you walked into the living room wordlessly and then you slumped onto the couch.

chris cleared his throat and your eyes moved up to meet his. the different shades of his blue and your hazel flickered in recognition as you swore his breath hitched in his throat.

“i’m sorry… let me explain please,” and the pleading in his tone made you give in instantly.

yes you were weak but how could you not be when this was the boy you had fallen in love with? when this was the boy who had been there for you time and time again when you felt as though you deserved no one? you may have been weak but he made you so.

when you didn’t respond, chris took it as his opportunity to keep going, “i don’t know what i was thinking… you have to believe me when i say i fucked up. i never wanted to end it, i just got in my head and i made a mistake. a big fucking mistake please you have to understand… give me a chance.”

his pleading words were the only sound filling the air and it took everything inside of you to not console him. you had to remind yourself he was only hurt because he put himself in such a position, put the two of you in such a position. but the way his eyes were flickering with utter dread had your thoughts stilling until all you could focus on was him.

his hand moved to reach for yours and you should have pulled away instantly but his fingers felt like coming home after endless time away. your hand slot with his like two puzzle pieces and all you wanted was to be complete again. his thumbs swiped across your skin and you felt the flush before it came, felt the desire in your heart to stay in this vulnerable spot for eternity.

“chris how am i supposed to believe you? what happens when i give you a chance and this all comes back to bite me in the back? i can’t do it again, especially when i haven’t gotten over it the first time,” the words you spoke were a mere fragment of what you truly were feeling but any more thoughts lingered on your tongue until the taste became sour and bitter.

“i swear it won’t be like that. this time apart has shown me that i can’t do it without you. i love you, i love you even when i break you and it’s killing me. i want to fix things,” his voice cracked ever so slightly that you almost missed it but you knew him so incredibly well that you picked up on it instantly.

that torn up response made you want to glue him together. yes he broke your heart but your heart also belonged to him, used to beat to the melody of the both of you and you were not quite sure you wanted to stop listening to the harmonies just yet.

“i love you,” he repeated and you loved him too, despite the cracks he placed within your heart because once upon a time he had healed a heart he had never even broken.

“i love you too…” and it was not a lie, never had been since the first time you said it and he looked over the moon.

his eyes lighting up reminded you of the first time, of simpler times and it made you remember all the good moments you shared — ones you did not ever want to forget and craved to expand.

his body seemed to have moved closer, the gap between the two of you on the couch almost non existent but still it felt like lifetimes could slip between you. yet when he reached his free hand to cup your face, air couldn’t slip through even if it tried.

“can i kiss you? please,” he practically whispered and you nodded your head, silently accepting what this would lead to and even though it scared you beyond belief, chris still had a way of making you want to overcome every last fear you held as long as he was alongside you.

he didn’t waste even a second to connect your lips and the surge of electricity that shot through you was a feeling you came to realise you missed so fucking bad. he was practically on top of you as the kiss deepened and when he pushed you so you were laying on the soft cushion, you let him. his body hovered over yours and tongues collided in a rushed manner, a greeting between lovers who so desperately needed to reconcile.

his eyes held a concoction of hunger, affection and gratitude and you wanted to drink it all in. his hands moved to your top and with a silent word of agreement between you, he took it off and carelessly discarded it somewhere unknown.

he looked at you like he was seeing it all for the first time, like you were the prettiest thing he had ever seen and loved and it resulted in your heart soaring.

he pressed open mouthed kisses onto your collarbone and he spoke between each of them breathlessly, “god missed you so much… you’ve no idea… fuck.”

his lips trailed lower and lower, down your chest and to your abdomen and you fought the urge to squirm beneath him when they grazed the waistband of your skirt. it was as though you forget how to speak when he pushed the material down your legs and scrambled around to move it away from you.

“fuckin’ missed this pussy,” he muttered and you gasped when he kissed over the top of your underwear. he couldn’t help but chuckle softly at the sound but deep down he too was trying not to drive himself crazy at the small contact.

“chris…” it was barely there but he heard it and it just made him want more, made him slide the only piece of clothing standing in his way off until his pupils dilated in utter lust.

“tell me you want it,” he all but asked and from the rasp in his voice, how could you not?

“please… i want it,” you let yourself go and the corners of his mouth tugged up into a slight smirk before his lips latched onto the exact spot where you needed him.

it was immediate, the way your hands grabbed onto his hair and tried to pull him even closer. the erotic noises in the air were driving you wild combined with the feeling of his tongue lapping against you. it felt so fucking good and you knew he knew it just as well because he wasn’t coming up for breaks.

he was eating you out like a starving man whilst his hands tightly gripped the sides of your thighs, “taste so fuckin’ good angel.”

you moaned involuntarily and his tongue moved faster in response, a reminder of exactly who was making you feel good. you tugged on his hair when he sucked on a particular spot and he whimpered, the vibrations against you getting you closer and closer to the edge.

“please,” your body moved to meet his mouth more and his nails dug into your side.

“please what?” he asked you, lips barely leaving their spot as the words escaped him and you whimpered at the sensations consuming you.

“god ‘m so close,” you managed to whine out and he took it as his cue to suck harder until you were nothing but a withering mess.

he loved the control he had over you, loved the way your body flailed underneath him yet you obviously didn’t want him to stop. you moaned his name like it was a mantra and he wanted to play the words on repeat for the rest of his life. god he missed the sound of your begging and whining more than he thought. he was honestly obsessed with every part of you and he couldn’t even bring himself to think of what a fool he’d been for ever attempting to rid himself of that.

“yeah? you gonna cum for me baby?” his words were all you needed and he loved that he still had that effect on you.

your hold on his hair tightened as your body let go, a blissful feeling taking over as he raised his head, his chin covered in remnants that only seemed to turn you on more.

“i love you,” he said it yet again almost like he was solidifying his emotions and for a moment it remained in the atmosphere because it only felt right to allow it to do so.

your fingers trailed to his sweatpants and he grinned widely as you flipped him over so you were now resting above him instead. “i love you too,” you replied and he leaned up to kiss you simply because he could; it was deep and passionate and telling of everything he’d been feeling for the past month or so.

you removed his articles of clothing one by one and he allowed you to wordlessly, an admirable smile on his face and adoration painting his eyes. this was exactly what he needed and he knew you needed it too from your desperate gaze that raked over his now naked body.

“come on angel be quick about it,” he groaned as your fingers teased him and you smirked, a sight he wanted to capture in his head as if it were a mental picture.

“shh, we’re doing this my way.”

TAGS @mattslolita @eyeliketoeatpoosay @chrissturniolossidehoe @middlepartmatt @raysmayhem-72 @conspiracy-ash @fratbrochrisgf @pvssychicken !

[seullovesme]

breathe. » karina

pairing ⥬ karina x reader

genre ⥬ angst

summary ⥬ she was seven breaths too late.

WC ⥬ 0.5k

warnings ⥬ su!c!de. this is a very sensitive topic so please do not continue if it makes you uncomfortable

i stared into the sunset that overlooked the city, feeling the breeze against my face as it blew my hair to the side. i closed my eyes and took a deep breath. the smell of fresh air filled my nostrils and soothed my mind, the piles of issues and bad memories left behind.

one breath.

i could hear the bustling street in the distance, but i specifically chose this location for its one purpose; that it’s far enough from the crowds so they wouldn’t find me so quickly. it gave me a chance to see such a beautiful gradient of blue, pink, and orange in the sky alone, and i hoped to see the moon and stars of the night one last time. i stood perfectly still, awaiting their arrival.

one breath.

the sun quickly faded, turning the sky a deep black with the stars decorating it. i looked up at the stars and smiled. how lovely. i loved how much they comforted me and how they helped me forget for a moment.

one breath.

my bare feet felt the cold concrete below, and it sent shivers down my spine. my shirt ruffled in the wind along with my hair, but i didn’t care enough to fix any of it. i could only smile at the moon, remembering how it was always there when there was no one.

the moon watched me fall in love, cry over the hurt, and stayed when it felt like the world was against me. the moon and the stars stayed. why couldn't she?

one breath.

i wanted to cry, my eyes ready for the overload of tears, but it wouldn't happen. i was content, so there was no need to cry anymore. it was finally my chance to be happy. forever.

one breath.

as i leaned forward, i closed my eyes. i spread my arm wide open and prayed for her happiness, no matter how many times i wished i could change the outcome. it wasn't her fault that i turned out this way, but i meant it when i said she'd be my last love. i made that promise and i must fulfill it.

one breath.

i leaped and my feet left the ground as i let my body relax. for a moment, i opened my eyes to see the moon one last time, but i couldn't see it. the tall building across from me was blocking my view. i thought about it and maybe it was good that the moon didn't have to see this. thank you for staying with me.

last breath.

karina was out of air by the time she climbed up the last flight of stairs because the elevator had so conveniently broken down. the burn in her legs couldn’t stop her, she had to reach you. the doors to the rooftop were thrown open, and she came through searching for you, her eyes scanning every inch of the area. she dropped her head in disappointment having not found you, but there on the floor right in front of her laid two pink sneakers. ones that were all too familiar. she stared at the shoes that laid on the hard concrete and she knew.

too late.

she was too late.

[mj-the-guy]

DRDT EPISODE 14 SPOILERS

My honest thought on Episode 14!!

1.) Okay.. I AM PRAYING ITS NOT ACE. Ace being the culprit seems SO UNDERWHELMING??? It just feels so narratively unsatisfying. Like why would we get a fake out death for Ace, and character moment just for them to kill him?? It feels like Arei all over again, and I just can't make sense of why Ace would randomly kill Arei.

I get that Ace heard the Areivid convo, and he could frame David- but why the fuck would he WANT to kill Arei???? To escape? It just seems so out of nowhere. It just feels SO unsatisfying if Ace is the killer. Like it just makes zero sense to me.

I just REALLY hope it's Eden for my own sake bc if it's Ace i will so disappointed man😭

2.) Also I am SO FUCKIGN HAPPY HU GOT CALLED OUT FOR HER BASELESS DEFENDING. It was so EXHAUSTING. LIKE PLEASE STFU😭😭😭🙏🙏🙏🙏

"Why would you all write me off?!?" Zawg why do you think💀

Even Nico heard her and was like:

3.) If Eden killed Arei that would make me SO UNBELIEVABLY HAPPY. It would rlly send a message to the cast about their situation if Eden was the killer. I can also see the argument about their friendship and why would we get so many scenes if they were both gonna die?

The answer to that is simple, something similar happened in Chapter 1. Xander was killed, and Min killed to protect Teruko. While Xander and Min don't really have any relations, they both had ample scenes with Teruko that demonstrated their friendship.

I REALLY WANT EDEN TO BE THE CULPRIT PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE DRDT DEV🙏🙏🙏🙏

[deadtired-highkeyenergetic]

Always Thinking of You

Apologies for yet another interruption of the usual Astarion Ancunin programme. I swear I'm still very into our beloved vampire idiot, it's just that the Transformers brainrot has invaded once more.

Summary: As the base burns down all around him, all Optimus Prime can think about is you. (set in TFP universe)

Optimus couldn't get the look in your optics as you turned away from him out of his processor. You didn't say a word, you didn't need to. He knew you well enough to tell exactly what was on your processor, he knew you were disappointed in him for choosing the humans over Cybertron, he knew you were hurt by his decision to destroy the Omega Lock. Most of all, he knew you were angry that it had come down to this.

Still, he watches as you disappear into the swirling vortex that is the Groundbridge, an emptiness filling his chest. He didn't know where he had sent you, didn't know what the future held for you, but that was for you to figure out. His job here would be done in a moment, and seeing you again…he futilely clung onto that silver of hope, knowing that such a day would never come. He would die here, leaving you alone on this Earth. No, not alone. You would still have the other Autobots, and whoever the Matrix chose to be a Prime next.

A single tear slides down his cheek as he turns to face the console, raising the Star Saber high. In the face of imminent death, he finds that he regrets a rather long list of things. He regrets that he parted ways with Ratchet like this, that he parted ways with you like this. He regrets that he'd never get to bring you to the top of Iacon Tower to see the view from there at night, that he'd never get to see how you'd react to the crystal gardens. He regrets that he'd never be able to feel your touch again, to feel your lips on his, to hear your laugh, see the way your optics light up when you lock gazes with him.

But he has to do this. The Autobot cause is far greater than his personal relationships, the both of you knew that. By doing this, he's ensuring your safety as much as he can, he tells himself, even if it's at the cost of his life. He'd meant it, every time he said he'd give his life for you. He feels his Spark constrict, a pang of guilt for being unable to uphold his promise to you.

As he swings the Star Saber downwards, he whispers one last prayer to Primus. He prays that you'll find someone new, someone better, someone who could give you what you needed, not a failure of a Prime who couldn't even keep his loved ones safe.

Then all he feels is the searing heat, followed by white hot pain. The entire base collapses on him, steel beams twisting in the flames and he feels one run through his abdomen as he crumbles beneath the weight and pain of it all. He can feel Energon leaking out of him as rubble cuts through his armour, opening the wires beneath. Everything hurts, his vision is getting fuzzy, he can barely breathe now. Sparks crawl along his arms where his wiring is exposed and he can't feel his legs anymore.

He never thought this was how he would go out. Sure, he'd thought about martyring himself many times over, before and after you came into his life, but the martyring usually came in the form of an execution by Megatron, not…whatever this was.

He finds his thoughts starting to wander to you as his life ebbs away, wondering what you're doing right now, if you've found a safe spot to hide for the time being. He wonders if you'll mourn his death, or if you'll only remember the time he doomed Cybertron with his own servos and hate him for the rest of your life. He hopes it's the former, it pains him to think about the latter. He's enjoyed all the times the both of you had spent together, especially all the stolen kisses in the dead of night when everyone else was asleep or on patrol. Those moments had made him feel like Orion Pax again, his Spark racing as he snuck out to meet you, tingles running up his backstruts as he held your servo, starry eyed and lost in your optics.

He remembers the time you'd thrown yourself in front of a missile for him, screaming for him to move as you slammed into him, taking the full brunt of the impact. He'd been so afraid for you, panic seizing him as he shouted for a medic, cradling your bleeding form. The Decepticon the missile belonged to made the mistake of trying to finish off what they started, and found themselves on the receiving end of his ion blaster. He had never felt such rage in his life before then, was it the same kind of rage that fueled Megatron's conquest? A shudder runs through him at the thought, would he wage such a terrible war for you? Would you do it for him?

At least 70% of his system has shut down at this point. Everything is muffled and his throat feels dry. Fear wraps its tendrils around him, squeezing tightly as thoughts he believed he'd long locked away hear cloud his processor. He doesn't want to die, he wishes he'd never been made a Prime, he wishes he could have a normal life with you, continue to be friends with Megatron, he wishes he wishes, but this is the reality he's in. He hates how he crumbles beneath the burden he's made to carry, hates the way he breaks down in front of you when the burden overwhelms him, hates the way you're made to carry his burden alongside him. Most of all, he hates the way his burden turned friends on each other and destroyed the planet he called home.

Black is creeping around his vision, threatening to devour the world around him. Just before it consumes him, he pictures your smile, the warmth in your optics, and the cold regret of never being able to see them ever again.

When he next opens his optics, the sound of your voice washes over his audials. There's an edge in your tone, and Ratchet says something but he doesn't quite catch it. Wait…your voice? Is he not one with the Allspark yet? Why would you and Ratchet be one with the Allspark? Had he failed?

"He's awake." The ringing in his audials stop.

"I can see that. I'm not blind." You're still as snarky as ever.

"Good. Then watch him while I go and retrieve a couple of items."

"Tch." He hears pedsteps fade away as you come into view. There's not a hint of anger or hatred in your optics. The only thing he can see in them is worry, concern, and love.

He doesn't know what to say. He didn't prepare for this, he didn't expect any of this. You gently touch his helm, gaze soft as you smile at him.

"You're safe now."

"I'm sorry," he rasps. It's the only thing he can say, the only thing that lingers on the tip of his tongue. He feels the lubricant gathering at the corners of his optics, his chest constricting and you simply hold him in your arms, cradling him.

"I forgive you." You murmur, and he clings to you in response. He was so afraid back then, but the moment you said those words, all his fears melted away.

"Thank you, my spark."

[toodelusionalforreality]

Azriel x OC | Chapter 5

Relic

Both his brothers are mated. Both his brothers are happily in love. But after five centuries of rejection, Azriel doesn’t hope for such luxury in his life. When he meets the bar owner who is too mysterious even for the spymaster to decipher, his intrigue turns into more. Lines between mystery and secret blur. The more he gets closer to her, the more his instincts warn him to stay away.

Word count: ~4.6k Warning: None [not enough editing/formatting]

A/N: This is an experimental piece of work. I'm testing a writing style, so feedback is welcome. Going to pretend to be some big shot writer and dedicate this chapter to the ones who encouraged me to keep writing. And my favourite reader (you know who you are, hopefully).

Previous Chapter: Shadow

The doorknob twisted under his fingers and Azriel gritted his teeth at the soft click. Mercifully, the door made no more sound. Darkness and quiet awaited him on the other side, while a haunting aura loomed behind him in the hallway under the fading sunlight. The hag was nowhere to be found.

Everyone except Ayla had known who he was, yet something changed after that day.

The last time he walked into the bar, Raya glared from across the room stopping him in his steps. She and Uri exchanged hissed whispers before the server led him out to the streets. He croaked out a “We’re closing soon anyway” with an apologetic smile and shut the rusty door in his face.

And, the hag—gone were the expectant eyes and the grateful smile when Azriel returned the next night. Instead, he faced a creature twice as large as him with knitting needles in one hand and jagged talons out in the other. 

Nonetheless, it warmed his heart and calmed his mind that Ayla was cared for.

Grumbled curses seeped through the wall on his side. His shadows wound tight around him. Clapping his wings close, Azriel wedged through the gap and shut the door carefully, praying it didn’t alert the hag.

A second passed and another. Sweet silence embraced him.

‘We’re closed.’

Azriel whirled around.

The room seemed to stretch far and long in the darkness with thick curtains shielding the windows. Stacks of wooden trays, empty glasses, and filled crystal decanters piled on the counter. Behind it, Ayla reached on her toes and placed a bottle on the shelf. A lone lantern burned a muted golden above the bar illuminating her.

‘I really need a drink,’ he uttered the first words that came to his mind, cursing himself for the senseless fool he was.

Her hand went rigid. Ayla stilled, and time and space froze with her. If not for the wisps of hair fluttering with her every breath, Azriel would have believed so.

None of their previous encounters ended on a good note. After the last time, he needed to clarify himself. If his mate deemed him vile, Azriel preferred she hated him from close. But in her silence, it struck him. She could be the one behind her friends’ defence, commanding them to keep him away.

‘Lock the door.’ She said a moment later, adding another bottle to the display. ‘I don’t want anyone else to believe we’re open yet.’

Resisting a smile, Azriel tested the knob again. He and her, alone in the empty bar—dreams truly did come true.

Once he settled across from her, Ayla faced him. She looked at him, unblinking. 

Azriel waited. So did she. He fumbled into his pockets and his fingers caught in the leather. His heart sank. He remembered stuffing a pouch with gold marks explicitly to bribe the hag if needed.  

Ayla laughed, the sound echoing through the air, chasing away every thought from his mind. She had blessed him with her smiles before. But this, it was beautiful—more so than her melodies, like the chime of a willow.

‘I was expecting your order.’ Her shoulders shook as she picked a glass from the pile. ‘Spare your money. The bar is still closed, remember?’

Heat crept up his neck. Azriel smiled yet ducked his head low. His shadows swayed on his shoulders as if laughing along with her. Traitors.

Ayla pulled a decanter from under the counter, simpler than the ones above, and poured a mouthful for him. He took the first sip and her eyes never left his face. 

A thick sweetness coated his mouth, the aftertaste lingering on his tongue. A drink was surely an excuse for his cause, but he expected a real one in a bar. Azriel almost said so when his throat tightened. His vision clouded. Bitterness exploded along the back of his tongue before morphing into a burn that settled in his throat. An undignified cough escaped his lips.

Amusement sparked in Ayla’s eyes. ‘I can find you something light if you’d like.’

‘It’s fine.’ Azriel cleared his throat. His voice was hoarse when he got the words out. ‘I didn’t expect. . .that. What is it?’

‘Poison. Didn’t your instincts warn you?’

His shadows danced along his back and wings, but they were quiet and calm. Azriel studied her blank face as he took a subtle sniff. It smelled quite like her—a jumble of spices and sweetness. 

Ayla laughed again. ‘I’m not daft to kill you in my own bar. It’s something Raya and Uri have been experimenting with.’

‘So it could be poison.’ Azriel smiled and tested another sip. It tasted easy this time. When she paused to fill his glass, he gave her a nod.

Her eyes fixated on his shoulders. ‘And for your companions?’ 

The wavering darkness stilled. His shadows that sensed the insensible and expected the unexpected, skidded down his back as though her question had rendered them awed. One ever wondered what they did for him or could do for them. In five centuries, no one asked what they wanted.

Their whispers quieted, and in that eerie void, Azriel seemed to hear a word echo back to him. Far, far away. Ayla.

‘Nothing.’ He dropped his gaze to the drink, smiling. It only served right that they suffered his agony too.

Leaving the liquor beside him, Ayla tended to her shelf. 

It was a cold, cruel world outside. A woman who hurt her and promised worse lurked beyond that room. A court wanted to whisk her away for a reason he knew nothing of. But Ayla had no worry. She drifted back and forth, shuffling the bottles in an innate pattern only she saw until the colours bled and blended into a seamless artwork, a mosaic of reds and browns and amber in the faelight.

How could she be so carefree while her life was in danger?

She preferred the lonely, Uri had said. Even with Azriel mere feet away, she was alone, in her own world—getting her bar ready for the evening, and he was content watching her.

Cradling a bottle against her chest, Ayla leaned back against the counter.

If he set his glass down and reached a little, Azriel could trail a finger down the arch of her spine. He could feel the smooth curve of her waist under his palm. A little lower, her shirt crinkled, right above the swell of her— He tore his eyes away and cleared his throat.

‘You don’t have to act tough,’ she said. ‘No one shall know the big bad shadowsinger can’t drink. It will be our secret.’

Azriel looked up. Ayla moved down the bar, away from him, towards the unattended pile. A teasing smile tugged at her lips. And her face lacked the hatred he believed she felt for him.

Had he been wrong? The times he met with her, she was polite—ignoring her threat—and she talked without hesitance.

‘You were gone for a long time. Where were you?’

‘Shouldn’t you know that already?’ Ayla wiped the glasses and stacked them on the tray one by one. The rings on her bracelet clinked with her every move.

‘I’m a spy,’ mumbled Azriel, ‘not a stalker.’

She chuckled, so light it was almost a breath. ‘Don’t the lines blur for you?’

Always a quick question thrown his way to draw the attention from her. Azriel was used to rudeness, anger, and even snark. But Ayla, she was something else. Her words were a weapon, sharp and precise, and always found their mark.

His shadows gathered over one shoulder, coiling and threading into dark ribbons, inching towards her. Ayla glanced at them and a smile curled her lips. With that, she shattered his resolve.

‘Drink with me,’ said Azriel.

Her hands froze and the smile faded. She peered at him, assessing him.

‘Drink with me, Ayla.’ He said again, only gentler.

For a breath, she didn’t move. Then she abandoned the trays, glasses and bottles, and walked back to him. 

Snagging the drink from between his fingers, she took a sip. Her brows pulled together as she pressed the back of her fingers to her lips and gasped. Azriel grinned.

‘Gods, that’s horrible.’ The veins along her neck strained as she swallowed again. ‘They should not be making that.’

‘A bar owner who can’t handle a drink. It’ll be our secret.’ Azriel poured another glass.

‘Ah, so it begins. Is this how you interrogate your suspects?’ Ayla crossed her arms on the bar. It brought her closer to him.

Azriel nodded. ‘Right after a meal of their choosing.’

‘Sure, sure. We don’t want to lose them to exhaustion. And when does the screaming start?’

There were two kinds of women—ones who idolised him and ones who feared him. Neither cared who he was underneath his mask of Night Court’s Torturer. And they definitely did not joke about it. 

Azriel chuckled under his breath.

Ayla drank again. ‘It’s still not my secret to share if that’s why you’re here.’

‘Not the part where you’re involved. That’s yours to tell.’

Her eyes didn’t waver. She observed him as though she could stir through his thoughts and pull them apart until she took what she wanted. 

After a long minute, she muttered, ‘I’m starting to see why you’re a spymaster.’ She tucked a fist under her chin. ‘I’ll tell you what. You find out where Hamra is and I’ll give you—’

‘She just passed the borders of Winter. If she moves west in the next two days, she’s heading to Autumn.’ 

Ayla blinked twice. Her lips parted and closed. She shook her head and slowly, a smile made its way onto her face. ‘Not a stalker,’ she mumbled, brushing the loose strands away from her eyes. ‘I met her five years ago.’

Azriel brought the glass to his lips and hid his smirk behind it.

‘I had to stop at an inn on my way back from a trip. I never do because they are always loud and crowded. That place was no exception.’ Her brows furrowed, yet her smile remained. She stared at the wood between them, ‘I almost left until I saw her. She was cursing at three men who were trying to hold her down and she was soaked in blood. I couldn’t tell whose it was. But she was fighting back. And those who wished to help were afraid of her.’

‘You helped her.’

Ayla nodded once. ‘Not right away. I wasn’t sure if she was innocent. But, she was cornered and outmanned. One of them even had a rope to tie her down like a beast. It didn’t matter though. The next minute, she was waggling a knife at them. Almost took an eye out of one.’ She laughed, shaking her head. More hair spilt from her knot. ‘I still don’t know where she got it from. After I had her cleaned and fed, she offered me gold for my horse and promised to let me ride him if I offered her protection.’

Azriel grinned. He expected nothing less from the spitfire of a child. ‘Who was she running from?’

‘Her sire.’ Ayla hesitated for a beat, then sighed. ‘Hamra is a half-nymph. When she came of age, many coveted her for her beauty and suitors poured in from every court. Her sire is a lowly lord. After he married a high fae to keep his bloodline pure, her mother hid her birth from him. But news of her existence spread when she bore more resemblance to him than her mother. Since Hamra carries his blood and passes as a fae, like any arrogant male, he claims to the right to decide who she weds and beds to further his lordly dreams.’

Different courts, different times, but the same tale.

Anger coiled in Azriel’s gut. Hamra was a mere child. Almost as old as when Mor endured the same or Gwyn.

‘Who’s her father?’

‘I’ve spoken more than I promised.’

‘And the woman, is she here on his orders?’

Ayla stole the drink from him and took a long sip.

‘Tell me the child is safe to travel alone.’

She lifted her chin, her eyes scrutinising him. The glass hung from her fingers by the rim. ‘And why do you care?’

Azriel didn’t know what trick she was playing. How could one not care? The sight of Mor’s naked body, bloody and bruised, on the ground still haunted him. He couldn’t condemn another to the same fate. ‘Shouldn’t we when her life is in danger?’

Ayla sipped again. Another minute of silence passed before she smiled. ‘You’re kind.’

The words felt wrong even from her lips. If she knew his true intentions, that the fae had been a pawn to get closer to her, she wouldn’t feel the same.

He looked away, ‘It’s not what people say about me.’

‘Maybe you’re listening to the wrong people.’

Her gaze was heavy on him. The urge to hide gnawed at his chest. But they were alone and his shadows had their own will around her. They peeled away leaving him exposed, bare and whole. 

Aware of the little time he had before they were interrupted, Azriel stole the drink from her. ‘Is that why you refuse to work for lords? For her safety?’

‘I don’t find them reliable.’ She shrugged, ‘Most are entitled and self-aggrandising.’

‘Rhys isn’t like them.’ At the least, not after one knew him.

Ayla clicked her tongue. ‘Your High Lord must pay you well if you endorse him while drunk.’

Azriel chuckled. He itched to defend his brother and convince her that he wasn’t as evil as she believed him to be. But he wanted to stay with her more. 

‘Why the bar?’ He asked instead. Her brows furrowed. ‘You make weapons and yet, own a bar.’

‘I liked the house.’ Azriel must have failed to mask his confusion because she added, ‘It’s in the middle of the city. I have a view of Sidra and the mountains from my balcony. And on solstices, I can see every celebration. The lights, the decorations, the music. For months, I tried to negotiate with the owner. But he wouldn’t sell it without the bar.’ She sighed, waving a hand between them. ‘You would know if you saw my house.’

His heart lurched.

‘Tell me this,’ she leaned forward on her arms. ‘Doesn’t it contradict your purpose if you declare yourself a spymaster?’

Azriel grinned. Of course, his mate would be bold enough to ridicule him. ‘I have others working for me. And everyone expects a shadowsinger to spy. There’s no point hiding it.’

Ayla rolled her eyes. ‘Excuses. Admit that you’re terrible at your job.’

’You don’t even know what I can do.’

‘You couldn’t find out where I was.’

‘But I found Hamra.’

‘She probably spotted you. Your shadows aren’t as subtle as they should be.’ She took the drink from him. The warmth of her skin grazed his fingers.

Darkness swarmed and writhed over his shoulders at the insult. A low chuckle escaped his lips. ‘Why the singing?’

Ayla frowned at the sudden shift. ‘You seem to be very curious about my life. Are you sure this isn’t an interrogation?’

‘You’re not screaming yet,’ teased Azriel.

She drew a breath and the corner of her lips twitched. ‘Among my people, women are supposed to be pretty things who do pretty things.’

Azriel waited for more. But she answered with silence.

Sire. Her people. Your High Lord. Her choice of words was strange for a commoner in the north, or even a lady. But she carried no markers of the southern courts. Even when she spoke of Hamra, she refrained from naming a place.

From the way she talked of her people, only two places came to his mind. 

Azriel knew the chances were slim but, for someone whose every word was calculated, she was bound to correct him rather than reveal the truth herself. ‘Autumn?’

Ayla grinned, ‘Do I look like I’m from Autumn?’

Hewn City then. Azriel hid his smirk by taking a sip. ‘I didn’t know making swords was a craft fit for a lady.’

‘Spoken like a true man.’ She exacted her vengeance by snatching the glass from him. Her gaze lingered on his hands as she drank and his fingers twitched on their own. 

He clenched his fists and turned away. He couldn’t bear that look from her—like he was that weak, helpless boy who cried for help, someone reduced to his past and ghosts.

‘We all have scars, shadowsinger.’ Her voice carried a note of tenderness. ‘You bear yours on your skin.’

When Azriel turned back, she was peering at his fists unfazed. She didn’t flinch away with disgust or cower when he caught her inspecting them. 

Ayla opened her palms to him. ‘May I?’

The last time she touched his skin, Azriel was too lost in her to notice. This, he wasn’t prepared for, nor could he forget.

‘You can refuse me,’ she said. Her hands rested on the counter between them as a sign of reassurance that the choice was truly his. 

Many had desired what Ayla asked of him. Even Mor at one time after she learnt the truth from Rhys. But it was Azriel who always chose who and when he touched, never the other way around. The only person he ever let feel his hands was his mother once the bandages were removed.

Slowly, he offered his hand to her. At the graze of her fingertips on his knuckles, he sucked in a sharp breath.

Ayla held his gaze, waiting, allowing him the chance to kill her curiosity. When Azriel didn’t resist, she comforted him with a smile before lowering her eyes. 

For a long time, she only observed, taking in every ugly ridge and wrinkle on his skin. She held his hand in both of hers, her fingers barely touching him. Her thumbs weaved through his digits and stroked his palm, eliciting a jolt through his spine with each traversed path.

We all have scars.

What scars did she possess? Were they a reminder on her skin like his? That thought alone birthed a hunger in him to inflict pain onto the world. 

How could anyone wish to hurt her? A woman whose eyes beheld compassion instead of pity for a cursed soul like him? The one who cradled his marred hand as a sacred relic deserving of her utmost care? The one whose face softened with a kind smile as she marked every inch of his scars with her smooth touch?

‘I wish,’ Ayla breathed, ‘they had treated you better.’

Azriel realised it then. Why Mother burdened him with a loveless life for five centuries. Why Mor didn’t accept him. Why Elain was never meant to be his. 

So he could belong to Ayla. And he would endure the heartache again for eternity if Mother promised him one lifetime with her.

Her fingers stilled, hovering over his palm. ‘Did they pay for this?’

Ayla’s face was that of an ardent believer of forgiveness—warmth radiating from her every time a smile adorned her lips. She cared for Raya and Uri. She protected a child endangering herself. She sheltered a homeless hag.

But Azriel had also witnessed her choke a male defending a fae. 

Which one was he—one worthy of her generosity or her wrath? 

Was he the same innocent boy deserving of justice after the blood he spilt with his own hands? Or was he a sinner for how he punished his half-brothers? What would appease the woman in front of him cradling his hand with a gentleness that rivalled a mother’s touch—that they were forgiven and shown the path of kindness, or they were ripped to shreds by his own tortured hands like they deserved?

No, the word inched closer to the tip of his tongue, ready to satiate his mate with a simple lie. One to keep her from running away from him. ‘Yes.’

The corner of her lips curled up, ever so delicately, and she murmured. ‘Good.’ 

When a frown etched between her brows, he knew her next question well. He grappled at everything he learned of her to lead her elsewhere. 

‘Can I see your dagger?’ She asked softly. 

Azriel almost laughed. One minute, his heart ached with the weight of his past, and the next, with joy and need.

Her back arched over the counter and she leaned low. She narrowed her eyes, prodding at his palm and pinching his fingertips. ‘Do you need special hilts? For your hands, the grip on them should be interesting.’

Oh, Azriel would prove his grip all right.

His shadows buzzed by his ears sensing his insidious thoughts. 

‘Maybe next time,’ he said, easing his hand out of her grip. What an idiot he was denying her the very thing he craved—her skin against his.

Her brow raised but she smiled. ‘Planning ahead, are we?’

It was neither a threat nor a refusal.

Refilling the glass, Azriel nodded at her wrist. ‘Did you make that?’

Ayla glanced at her bracelet before emptying their drink. ‘Orvin did. Leather and innovation are his specialities. I’m better with traditional weaponry.’ She poured another glass and Azriel grabbed it before she could. ‘I don’t carry weapons, so he made it for my travels.’

So close, the rings appeared more silver than gold but lacked the lustre of either. ‘What is it made of?’

‘It’s something I’m working on.’ Ayla threaded her third and fourth fingers through the rings and pulled, slowly revealing the cords. A trilling echoed in the air as they strummed from the strain. ‘See,’ she looked up at him, her eyes bright and eager. ‘It’s malleable under tension. It may not look like it, but it’s tougher than steel.’

She flexed her fingers and the rings whizzed back to the bracelet in a blink. Her smile widened.

Azriel set the glass down and reached for her wrist. Then, he stopped. When he turned to her, she nodded twice, extending her arm towards him. 

His fingers were thicker than hers. The rings barely slipped past his nails. The heat from her skin still warmed the metal. 

Ayla leaned close and Azriel held his breath. She curled his fingers, trapping the rings between his knuckles.

‘They are meant to be a little loose to manoeuvre them.’ She pointed at his half-closed fist, ‘You can’t get proper control if they’re snug. There’s also the danger of breaking your fingers during a fight.’

Azriel nodded and tested a little tug. His fingers trembled at the tension as though the cords fought back against him. Both times Ayla used it, she did so with an impressive ease that almost shamed his Illyrian strength.

She traced her fingers along the width of the bracelet. ‘Here’s where the tethers go. It remembers its form and reverts to it once you let go.’ Then she frowned, ‘But it’s not perfect yet. Leather gets worn out soon. We’re trying to replace it with metal but the slide and friction are hard to get around.’

Words tumbled out of her lips about metals and temperatures and mechanics. The more she talked, the further she edged towards him.

Azriel narrowed his eyes.

A smoky tendril teetered over her shoulder, one to the other. It coiled and wove itself with the loose ends of her hair, curving along her jaw carefully to not touch her skin. 

As the rogue shadow nudged against her collar, swaying too close to her ear, he gritted his teeth. 

Ayla looked up at his silence.

Azriel nodded, bringing his gaze back to her face. Or did she ask him something?

He stared at his hand, the rings still in his grasp. He coiled the cord around his fist like she did on that first night. She was right—he could tolerate the strain better. He tugged and her hand slipped on the table, almost knocking the glass off. She caught it before the liquor spilt on him.

‘Hey,’ she laughed—sweet and soothing. His shadows sighed at the sound. ‘Careful!’ 

Azriel released the rings, letting go of the tether, letting go of her.

But Ayla didn’t move back. She drank, smiling. 

Lights hit the crystals on the shelf right and their glow echoed around her like a gentle halo—turning her into the ethereal being she was. Her eyes sparkled with mirth and her cheeks flushed warm. She licked the remnants of the liquor from her bottom lip as she emptied the bottle and nudged the drink towards him.

Azriel willed himself to breathe. He placed his finger on the rim and turned the glass around. When he brought it to his lips, his tongue darted out to gather the wetness still stuck to it, where her lips had been not a moment ago. He took a long sip, savouring every drop of the burning nectar she offered.

Ayla stared at him—his parted lips, the column of his throat as he swallowed. Her inhaled breath stuck in her throat. As Azriel set the glass down, her eyes followed it before they flashed to his. 

Far, his mind screamed, too fucking far. 

But Azriel noticed the slight twitch of her lips before her gaze flicked to his side. A thread of shadow curled around his ear. 

A lock clicked beyond the wall. Ayla looked over her shoulder at the closed office door, sinking her teeth into her lip.

Raya, his shadows announced.

‘That’s my bartender,’ her voice took on a lower note, more melodious than ever. She swallowed a breath and turned to him. ‘We’ll be opening soon.’

Azriel waited. 

Ayla didn’t move.

He grabbed the back of her neck and pulled her to him, pressing his lips to hers. 

Metal clanked and scratched against the wood as her fingers splayed on the counter. When her lips moved with his, Azriel buried his other hand into her hair—her beautiful, silkened hair. 

He swiped his tongue on her lips, wide and hungry. Honeyed sweetness from their drink lingered on them, and beneath it, he tasted her. A shiver raked through him, every nerve in his body awakening at her kiss. When she gasped, he stole the little breath from between her lips. She didn’t resist. 

Gods, not once did she resist.

Azriel kissed her. 

He kissed her with every piece of his heart. He kissed her for the centuries he waited for her. He kissed her for the moments wasted between them, and the moments he would miss until next time.

Here.

Feet stomped close on the other side of the door.

Azriel pulled away, dropping his hands.

The door opened.

‘People generally rest in their bed,’ groaned Raya entering the room. Her mouth fell open when she spotted him, her wide eyes darting between him and Ayla.

Azriel only watched his mate. Her hair, ruined by his hands. Her cheeks aglow golden with a flush. Her lips pursed—wet, swollen, and all the more inviting.

But the light in her eyes, the playfulness, faded.

He stumbled back from the stool. 

‘Thanks for the drink.’

And he left without looking back.

[spiderbeam]

a few of my singapore gp 2024 highlights:

slay:

LANDO ON POLE AND LANDO P1 YEAHH

lando & oscar’s helmets you don’t get it i’m obsessed they’re so pretty

LANDOSCAR PODIUM WHO CHEERED

yuki’s engineer going “colapinto and perez are fighting position it could be beneficial to us” and yuki just answering “TOO MUCH INFORMATION”

someone on max’s radio saying “your old pal daniel picked up a fastest lap at the end” and max going “thank you daniel” 🙂‍↕️

giggly and smiley lando during the post race ohhh i love seeing him like this

oscar’s “so without using swear words how do you feel about what you did that moment?” OSCARR

redbull realizing that yeah checo was right the car is fucked.

pray:

alex’s dnf cause wdym last race they forgot the cooling thing and this race his car is overheating??? williams when i catch you

franco apologizing after ending p11?? you are doing great franquito why are you saying you’re sorry :(

yeah it goes without saying but max’s whole fight with the fia. getting community service for saying the car is fucked. then answering all questions “yes. no. no comment” during the press conference. saying he will hold another press conference right outside. HE STARTS A SECOND ONE. the fia tells him he can’t. and max just says “okay we’ll do it on the go then” and starts walking SURROUNDED by journalists. ohh max verstappen i really hope you understand how iconic you are.

four weeks until the next race 😃😀

bonus:

during the first lap when alex goes “franco just dive-bombed!! what is he doing?????” and all the argentinian commentators just stop for a sec and go “is he complaining about franco 😦” i laughed

one of the commentators going “yeah, ferrari says they are ‘plan a’ but you never know with this team. maybe its a bait. maybe they have a ‘plan a minus five’ and a ‘plan a plus two”

[akkivee]

the mood is still like this pic of reol, femme fatale’s writer, in between the chuuoku seiyuu btw lmao

[jakeperalta]

my period literally ruins my life I can't believe half the population never have to experience it like imagine how free it would feel to live without that constant burden

[feliciadraws]

👁️ W I T N E S S 👁️

- I've been meaning to do something with Onmyoji, the awesome @bamboorocket's Lancer AU!Waka, for a while now, but since it's Bamboo's birthday I went ahead and did a thing inspired by the current campaign she's playing him in as a birthday present!

So without further ado, Happy Birthday to the awesome @bamboorocket! Thank you so much for being one of the coolest, most awesome friends I could ever ask for 🎂🌙✨

[butchford]

Bitches will be like "damn am I overexaggerating how bad the current landscape is?" And then the top posts in a character tag that's not even involved will be "this post contains filtered tags [ship]"

[microwavetoaster-selfships]

Having Tomadachi Life with yourself and your F/Os is all fun and games until it says they don't like you/you have to watch them get hearts over someone else

Uuuhhhh I vent/rant/lose my marbles in the tags just as a heads up. Nothing HEAVY just. Very bothersome

[fayehartz]

me whne i come back once in a lifetime to like sp posts and leave once more