#and naturally for other threads one would want to bump their own so it would be on top of the front page and get more views

[an-aura-about-you]

you ever see a post where a person says a thing, another person says, "That's definitely not true," regarding the first post, and you actually DO remember the thing being true but it's such an inconsequential, niche thing that you know it's not worth it to make it an addition on that post?

[kairiscorner]

any haikyuu serious/stoic character with a gyaru gf that's outgoing but easily flustered and they just started dating 💗 pleeaasee!!!

omg. i am so tempted to make more of these, BC I CAN ALSO IMAGINE THIS FOR LIKE, SO MANY OTHER CHARACTERS I CAN'TTTTTTTTTT I LOVE THIS IDEA SO MUCH, AND I HOPE YOU DO, TOO 💓💓💓

his girl. (part 3)

summary: looks can certainly be deceiving, but he's not with you for how you look—he's completely smitten for how adorable and lovable you are as a person, as his girl.

* ੈ✩‧₊˚ hajime iwaizumi

he had never, never in the three years that he's been your schoolmate, seen you around campus with your pretty and bold clothes, with your striking hair and makeup—with that lovely voice of yours making him go crazy—never had he realized that, beneath your bold exterior, lay a sweet and shy girl that made him fall for you even harder. he had always struggled thinking of how to talk to you, how to approach you and ask you out on a date. when he finally mustered the courage to do so (after being threatened by oikawa that if he didn't make his move now, he'd get to you first) he realized that you were leagues shier than he could ever be; and that was so fucking cute to him.

now that you two are dating, iwaizumi makes it a point to call you beautiful everyday, not just because it's true and he wants you to feel that it is, but because he loves it when you get all bashful and embarrassed, when you hide behind your tiny hands in an attempt to cover your flustered face. when your make up is off and your hair is down, iwaizumi's heart skips a beat and his face gets all warm and fuzzy.

"oh, shit—i really lucked out in life; my girl's gorgeous." he blurted out subconsciously, his eyes glued on to you as he admired how you look without makeup, when you look the way you naturally do, and just... you being you. he loves every way you look and how you express yourself, and he's more than willing to shut someone who has nothing to say about you up; and for every bad thing you've heard in your life that's been thrown at you for how 'over the top' you look, he combats those words with sweet words that flow like honey of his own, and with gentle kisses to remind you how loved you are, how much he loves you.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ wakatoshi ushijima

it was hard for ushijima to take his mind off of anything but volleyball, but to work hard to make it to nationals—it used to be pretty hard, but now that you're in his life, ushijima has learned to find some balance in his life. first impressions plagued you both when you two first met; you thought of him as this big, scary, intimidating fellow, and of course he was! standing at 189 centimers and with daring eyes like his, your shyness quintupled when you accidentally bumped into him on your first day. ushijima was also taken in by how you looked for a split second, he originally thought you were one of those popular girls who were spoiled, that you probably thought you were better than ushijima, which was why you never said anything to him when you two bumped into each other. he didn't expect you to apologize, so he let it go—until you parted your lips and let out a soft apology. ushijima would never forget the feeling that rumbled in his chest as this smaller girl, who he thought he would never come to like or have an opinion of, actually apologize to him.

and from then on, after he acknowledged your apology and gave an apology back, you two kept bumping into each other here and there; it was comical, really, tendou kept teasing you two for it, saying you were both star-colliding lovers, or whatever pun he made up for it that got annoying, yet sweet, real quick. when you two realized your feelings for each other, ushijima felt sort of protective over you after you both became official. he had a habit of playing with the ends of your hair involuntarily, just fidgeting with the ends of it, threading it in between his long, thick fingers. he loved it when your small hands would envelope around his fingers to hold his hand on the way home, and he made sure you would always get home safe.

because of tendou and the rest of the team, ushijima had finally learned how to say these words with a smidge of confidence and endless love behind them: "remember... i love you. a lot. stay... safe. and... you're beautiful. i love you." he said in his usual deep, rumbling voice and stoic expression; though you could tell ushijima had to muster all his confidence and put a lot of his heart into that. you got all flustered and smiled, thanking him in stammers and giggles, making the corners of his lips turn up into a slight smile. his gaze was soft and caring, and ushijima wanted nothing more than to have you in his arms before he'd make his way home. that now became his favorite routine, wrapping his big, muscular arms around you, and gently hugging you—holding you close and burying his nose in the crook of your neck as he ends the day with a hug from you, thinking of you subconsciously, wishing silently to himself that tomorrow would hurry up so he could hug you, hold you, and say he loves you again, and again, and again.

[shinakkyo]

wednesday x tyler canon-divergence au wip

i wanted to write my own version of “what if wednesday managed to get out of jericho in ep. 01” fic, mostly as an excuse to write about tyler getting to be actually weird and the addams mansion (my beloved). i also wanted to try writing a multi-chaptered fic again instead of a long one-shot, to like reeeeeally explore the slow burn and to devote time to write about the house as a proper character (did i mention i love her?).

this fic will probably be rated M or E, but it starts pretty tame :)

please lmk your thoughts!!

cw: derogatory language, torture, death (canon typical, not overly graphic)

In some other reality, one that is bloodier in that teenage-drama-show way, Wednesday bumps into someone while scurrying through the Harvest Festival with the sheriff’s son, and it triggers a vision that makes her change her goals of Getting Out of Jericho to Preventing a Killing, and, instead of leaving behind this town threaded with her parent’s memories, she lives out her own murder mystery story, with enough twists and plot holes that any publisher would delight in turning into a full trilogy, under a signed contract that made sure the author died in obscurity and full of debt. 

Wouldn’t that be a dream come true. 

But as it stands, she is on Tyler Galpin’s passenger seat, watching the city’s lights fade amidst the trees as they drive to the nearest train station, with Thing attempting to play hangman with her on the condensation building on the window. She is only paying attention to him halfheartedly, losing on purpose even though she knew at first glance the word was “fratricide”; there are things mildly more pressing at the moment, like the anxious clenching and unclenching of Tyler’s hands on the steering wheel that looks calculated to make Wednesday demand him to stop that. And thus start a conversation.

Just when she thought the uncomfortable silence between them was getting to the good part.

He sighs an apology and takes a big breath to calm his nerves down, relaxing his posture, and Wednesday thinks that will be the end of his little show as the resident Anguished Small Town Boy, but she catches him sneaking a glance at her, and really, it was dreadfully naïve of her to expect anything else; she knows that she might as well be the equivalent to a haunted paperback edition of a Ripley’s Believe It or Not! anthology to someone like him. 

“Can I ask you something? Yes, other than this.”  There is a hint of a smirk on his lips when he catches the way Wednesday’s eyes shift from capricious antagonism to quiet amusement at his quick amendment. She nods, and he looks back at the road, the cliché maneuver to feign nonchalance that Wednesday didn’t think she’d see in person so soon.

“Was Nevermore that bad? I mean, I get wanting to leave Jericho as soon as you arrive in that town, but… I don’t know, the students there seem happy. Like it’s worth it all.”  There’s curiosity in his voice, but also something that sounds a little like envy, a feeling that Wednesday finds difficult to comprehend when she thinks of what in that school he could be envious of. 

She decides to entertain him, given his puzzling generosity that so far is working to her benefit. “I suppose, all high school experiences considered, it’s not quite as vexing.”  She pauses, focusing her look on his profile so their eyes meet, and holds a stare contest that he, naturally, loses. “The student body was just full of your common American high school clichés, though. Teenagehood is the same whether you’re a normie or a gorgon, after all.” 

Tyler frowns in confusion, mouthing to himself what the fuck is a gorgon while looking at the road, and it makes the corner of Wednesday’s lips twitch minutely in what only an Addams could tell was a smile, her expression remaining neutral to anyone else. The time she spent in Jericho was enough to have her thinking like a simple minded girl when she observes that there was something about this boy that made him feel more deserving of her attention than most, enough to prompt her to ask a question to keep the conversation going.

“And you? Why is that the sheriff’s son is so angst-filled over his provincial hometown that he would aid an outcast in her escape, but not go away himself?”  The question apparently surprises him, his eyes widening as his hands clench around the steering wheel once again. Wednesday waits for his answer but she’s getting bored by the minute with this, there’s not much he could say that would be actually interesting, and she doesn’t really care about the mundane day-to-day drama of small towns built on racist history. 

He relaxes again after they pass a sign with the directions to the train station, some miles away from them still. “There’s not much to it, really. I spent a year at a boot camp for… misguided behavior, now I guess I’m repenting. It’s hard to just leave when your dad is the sheriff, too.”  Wednesday catches him glancing at her, searching for a reaction, probably wanting to see shock or surprise on her face. There’s a glimpse of disappointment in his eyes when he doesn’t find it, and Wednesday takes pity on him just for her own continued amusement, taking the bait.

“What exactly was your misguided behavior? Did you kill someone?”  Another car passes by them at that moment, and for a second there’s an unnatural flash of red on Tyler’s eyes, but his expression is relaxed and amused, like he thinks Wednesday’s question was a joke and he didn’t think she was capable of those, so she dismisses the red in his eyes as a reflection of light. “No, actually… I destroyed a Nevermore student’s mural and beat him up, for no reason other than being stupid, I guess.” His self-deprecating tone takes a bitter turn when he continues: “There were others with me, those guys bothering you at the Weathervane, but I was the one who got blamed for everything.” 

That was exactly the kind of meaningless misdeed Wednesday expected to hear, something so completely abecedarian when it came to the typical activities of a high school boy that she couldn’t help but huff in amusement. At least her short stay in Jericho entertained her with its microcosmic banality, as if she had spent her week at a theme park of stale white bread americana, reminiscent of that summer camp she went to as a child. 

They could see the signs pointing towards the train station now, more lights coming into view the closer they got, and as Tyler was doing a right turn to get to the station’s parking lot, his phone flashed with a notification from where it was sitting inside the cup holder. “Can you check what that was for me? If it’s a text just tell me who the sender is.”  He looked worried, and Wednesday supposed that maybe they were already past his curfew, she wasn't paying attention to the time.

She reached out to pick up his phone at the same time he reached out to change gears, and in that fraction of a second where their hands touched, an electric current replaced the blood in her veins, lighting her up like her least favorite electric chair, and the last thing she felt before her vision went black was Thing, running up her arm trying to keep her head upright as she passed out.

She doesn’t recognize this place.

Rough stone walls with unnatural scratch marks, the putrid-sweet smell of decay, specks of dust glittering in the air when she looks around and hears before she sees a figure— curled up against a corner, heavy chains around its neck, ankles and wrists, breathing erratically.

She gets closer to it, the sound of her footsteps echoing loudly in this cave-like place, as if she was trying to make herself noticed and intimidating at the same time, and the figure against the wall curls up even more, making himself smaller. She's close enough now to see it’s a boy, naked and covered in a thin veil of sweat, with red distressed marks where the chains are rough against his skin, and needle-like punctures on his arms. 

Wednesday stands right in front of him and lifts his face up with the toe of her boot, a bright red that makes her want to itch with allergies, and Tyler Galpin looks back at her, hair disheveled and eyes red from tears but hollow with fear, his pupils dilated as if he was high. She doesn’t understand—

“Well, you were useless after all. I should’ve known, and yet I put my trust in you—” She gets interrupted by a slurred mantra of “sorrysorrysorrysorrysorry” from Tyler, his voice small and hoarse, and kicks him on his throat, making him choke and gasp when the chains pull against his neck with the impact. 

Why is she saying these things? That was not her voice, but she knows it, she—

“Did I give you permission to speak? Like this you’re no better than any of those other freaks, did you know that? I’m so disappointed, honey.” Her tone is deceptively sweet but her words are cold, cutting, and Tyler looks up at her with hope and then confusion, like a trained dog thinking he’ll be taken for a walk, only to find himself at the veterinarian to get neutered. 

She thinks she sees a reflection of copper hair in his eyes, but she can’t remember—

There’s a syringe in her hand now, and she can actually smell the fear and panic in Tyler’s sweat, acidic and salty mixed with the distinctive iron of the blood now dripping from where the chains cut into his skin. He’s shaking like a cornered animal, and Wednesday feels her mouth curl in a saccharine smile when she gets close to him.

There’s no way her face could pull such an expression, she’s physically incapable of it, no way, no—

“In the end that girl left you, didn’t she? See how nobody wants you close? How you’re only good as a tool, as a toy? And yet you had the audacity to betray me. Honestly, baby boy, you did this to yourself.” 

She holds him by his chin, brushing a thumb over his cheekbone in mocking tenderness, catching a tear in her manicured nail, while her other hand pushes the needle deep into his neck, and his eyes go from wet and pleading to a dull emptiness in a matter of seconds.

Wednesday chuckles as she sees his wrists falling limp to his sides, and a hint of blue tinging his lips.

The sound of a body slamming down on the ground and the rattling of chains echo in the cave.

[hleevrsworld]

Threads of Fate

N.R

The rain poured down relentlessly, each droplet a heavy reminder of life's unpredictable nature. You hurried along the crowded streets of Seoul, umbrella barely shielding you from the deluge, lost in your own thoughts. But as fate would have it, a collision interrupted your reverie, sending you stumbling and jolting you back to the present.

"I'm so sorry," you blurted out, flustered, as you tried to steady yourself.

The stranger, a young man with captivating eyes, flashed you a charming smile, his concern palpable. "No worries. Are you okay?" he asked, his voice a soothing balm in the midst of the chaos.

Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment as you nodded, a mixture of gratitude and surprise washing over you. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just not paying attention, I guess."

His chuckle was like a melody in the rain, a bright spot in the dreary afternoon. "It happens to the best of us. Here, let me walk you to your destination. Wouldn't want you to get lost again."

And just like that, Ni-ki entered your life, a whirlwind of charm and kindness. With each step you took together through the rain-soaked streets, conversation flowed effortlessly between you. It was as if you had known each other for years, not just a few minutes. You found yourself sharing things you had never told anyone, opening up to this stranger in a way that felt both natural and exhilarating.

When you finally reached your destination, you couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment. You didn't want the conversation to end, didn't want to say goodbye to the stranger who had brightened your day.

"Thank you for walking me here," you said, trying to keep the sadness out of your voice.

Ni-ki smiled, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Anytime. Maybe we'll run into each other again sometime."

As he disappeared into the rain, leaving you standing on the sidewalk, you couldn't shake the feeling that your encounter was more than just chance. There was something about Ni-ki that drew you to him, something that felt like destiny.

From that day forward, Ni-ki became a constant presence in your life. You bumped into each other at cafes, bookstores, and even on the subway. It was as if fate was determined to keep bringing you together, weaving your lives together in ways you couldn't explain.

As your friendship blossomed into something deeper, you found yourself falling for Ni-ki in ways you never thought possible. He became your confidant, your rock, the person you turned to when the world felt like it was crumbling around you.

But just as your relationship seemed to be reaching new heights, tragedy struck. A devastating loss rocked your world, leaving you reeling and unsure of how to go on.

Ni-ki was there for you, offering comfort and support in your darkest moments. He held you close as you cried, whispered words of encouragement when you felt like giving up. It was during those long nights of heartache and sorrow that you realized just how much he meant to you.

And then, one day, as you sat together on a secluded beach, watching the waves crash against the shore, Ni-ki turned to you with a look of determination in his eyes.

"There's something I need to tell you," he said, his voice soft but filled with emotion.

Your heart skipped a beat as you turned to face him, anticipation coursing through your veins. "What is it?" you asked, breathless with anticipation.

Ni-ki took a deep breath, his gaze never leaving yours. "I've known since the moment I met you," he confessed. "You're my soulmate, the one I've been searching for all my life."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you reached out to take his hand, feeling the warmth of his touch seeping into your soul. "I've always known," you whispered, your voice filled with love and gratitude. "You're my soulmate too, Ni-ki. Always and forever."

And in that moment, surrounded by the beauty of the world and the love of your soulmate, you knew that no matter what the future held, you would face it together, hand in hand, hearts entwined in an unbreakable bond that would last for eternity.

[bhaalbabebardlock]

~ Nature's Gifts ~

Masterpost | All works | AO3 Link

Chapter 6- The Weave

Important tags: Dom!Gale, soft Dom gale, uhh weird astral sex? Idk okay, m/f, please check out other tags on AO3!

Summary:

This chapter is a retelling of Gale's Act 2 romance scene.

“I want to… begin our story. Write our own thousand nights that we turn into a masterpiece. To be with you, in the most intimate way possible, expose myself to you and you to me. To know all of you. What do you say?” She leaned her head back against his chest, tapping her fingers on the cover of the book.

Masterpost | All Works | AO3 Link

Excerpt is below the cut, full chapter is posted on AO3!

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

Chewing on her lip, she bumped his shoulder with hers, her voice soft. He'd been so quiet the last few days, since Elminster had found them. So pensive. He seemed to have pulled into himself, just when she thought they were starting to get closer. Any conversation about the necrotic magic in his chest ended with his silence. She wasn't sure this discussion would go any differently.

“Is it really just the stars that's got you out here looking so mopey all by yourself, Gale?” He sighed, pulling his hands into his lap.

“No, I suppose not.” She studied him while she waited for him to continue. She wasn't one to push, and she knew he would continue when he wanted to. So she took in all the tiny details.

He was beautiful really, in all the painfully human ways Astarion wasn't. All of the little imperfections in his face where there was only smooth marble in Astarion's was one of the things she, possibly, loved the most about him. The reminder of the life he had lived so far. The looming darkness of the humanity they shared between them. She thought about it often. Druids lived long lives. But not forever. Not like Astarion would. And Gale? Even less time.

She swallowed around the pain of that for a moment before returning her gaze to Gale's face.

NSFW Below the Cut!!!

She moved her hands up, threading his dark hair around her fingers to pull his mouth closer to hers, awash with the complex simplicity of the intimacy and magic burning between them. His tongue sliding against hers, the taste of spearmint and parchment filling her mouth. Sparks of sheer pleasure, living electricity, broke out across her flesh as his fingers slid between her legs.

“Ah, you're already so-” he dragged a finger over her lips, grazing it teasingly over her entrance, making slow circles around her clit but not touching it.

“So ready for me. I do enjoy how eager you always are.” Her breath caught, a moan tumbling out of her throat as ran his finger over her clit with just enough pressure to drive her mad, but not enough for her to find any relief. She pressed down against his hand, seeking more contact, only to let out a frustrated groan as he pulled his hand away.

“You know Tav, I do think you could ask for what you want. If you're polite enough, I'll consider giving it to you.” She whined once more, biting her lip as she stared back at him.

“Please?” She pouted, sticking her lip out. He chuckled, grazing a knuckle over her folds again, making her shiver.

“Something tells me you can do better than that. Come on, Octavia. Beg me.”

“Gale, please, I-”

“Ah. Right now, I think it would be more fitting if you called me ‘sir’, don't you? We can take that further… later.” Heat coiled and clenched inside her stomach, between her thighs, her breath catching in her throat. Oh.

“Please, sir, I need you to touch me. I need your fingers in me, on me. I need your cock. Please, please Ga-, sir. Please.” His smile was almost better than everything around them. Adoration and lust and something in his eyes that was just a little darker, a smidge of something deeper shining through as fingers not quite as gentle as usual pressed into her hip, his other hand thrusting a finger up into her unexpectedly.

She cried out from the sudden pressure, the feeling of his fingers curling inside of her as he added another one. She felt everything, the ecstasy of it in every molecule of her being, experiencing pleasure in a way that she had never been able to before.

“Gods, you are so gorgeous like this, when you're coming apart for me.” She whimpered, pressing kisses to his throat as she bucked against his fingers, unable to think outside of the hazy cloud of all consuming heat spiraling through her. She wrapped her legs around his waist, feeling his hard length settle against her stomach, his thumb brushing over her clit again making stars burst behind her eyelids instead of just in the air. She felt herself clenching around his fingers, burying her face against his neck as she moaned and writhed, riding out wave after wave of ecstatic pleasure.

The Rest of This Chapter on AO3!

Masterpost | All Works

[quandaryqueen]

I read your other soul mate posts and absolutely loved them. So I'd like to ask for one of my own. Feel free to ignore this if you don't want to do it. BTAS Jon and Ed with a red thread of fate that can be interacted. Like you could pull on it and the other would feel it, but the Reader is really clumsy and more often than not winds up giving it a yank that would send the boys flying. But some times it ends up saving them too.

Tangled

BTAS Edward Nygma X Reader

BTAS Jonathan Crane X Reader

Soulmate au! Gosh I have the mental image of the reader, due to their clumsy nature, getting tangled up in the strings and ngl it's a cute little image but anyways--! I just love red strings of fate and I am ELATED at the fact that someone has requested it! Thank you 💝

💚 Edward Nygma

First of all, he is mentally cursing at his soulmate to mind their steps! Honestly, one of these days you'd pull him alongside you and it would result in catastrophe!

So when he held a little get-together with Gotham citezens in an event venue as hostage, somewhere in the crowd was someone getting their ankle through their strings so violently, they managed to cause others to lose their balance... Including Edward. But Edward has had a good look at the catalyst of the trouble, and he knew.

Not long after that little trip up of yours, you have somehow got yourself caught in your string and stumbling, resulting for your soulmate to be yanked forward, almost bumping against a nearby civilian. See? Catastrophe? Not to mention, humiliating!

He wouldn't admit it, but you have saved him sometimes. Save for example, the time where he wasn't minding his environment and he would have almost been snagged by a vehicle by the crossroad if you didn't trip in your own strings again.

"Watch it!" He exclaims, not bothering to pick himself up when he barely clung to a podium to catch his fall. He didn't need to follow the glowing red string tied around his finger, he fucking knew it was you. He locks eyes with you at the back of the other hostages, on your stomach with sheepish eyes greeting his narrowed ones. Fantastic, so this is how he meets his soulmate.

🧡 Jonathan Crane

As much as possible, he tries to level himself down whenever your little trip ups occur. He simply can't let your little hiccups make a fool of himself in front of others, but if he did, he tries to remain stone-faced. Let no one say that the Scarecrow is ever caught off-guard. In rare occasions though, you do catch him off-guard, even pulling a yelp out of him.

Gosh he can't blame you though, as sometimes the strings do get in the way in ways that he finds inconvenient. Like, imagine tripping on the red string and getting caught by the Bat. You're clumsy, but you couldn't be him.

So... Meeting you. That's a fun little story.

Nonchalantly meandering about the mall, when he stumbled upon the Halloween section, in which he entertains himself by perusing along with isles of plactic pumpkins and autumn themed candles. As he tries to reach to smell one of the candles, he stops to steady himself when he fells a pull. It would be an expensive mistake if he were to stumble forward.

Weirdly enough, he hears someone squealing from the other side of the shelf. What an odd coincidence. Then when he looked down, he sees the string tied on his pinky finger glow red. Oh.

Anticipation pits at the bottom of his stomach as he walks by the next isle, tracing the trajectory of the string with his gaze, only to see the end of it connect to an individual's ankle, as they try to set themself free, muttering under their breath. How did you even get yourself caught?

"Ahem." With Jonathan clearing his throat, you looked up to see him.

"Sorry, can I help you?" You nervously smiled up at him. God it was so embarrassing that you haven't even made the attempt to get off the floor yet.

He gestures at the strings and he watches realisation unfold from your features. Well, this should be fun.

[stxrfclls]

‘ alp navruz, cis man, he/him, 35 / 350 , illyrian ’ ― cauldron save you. it seems kerim cevik has finally made it to the capital, the war lord of an illyrian war camp from night court is said to be intelligent and is said to describe themselves with the ability to swap between serious and silly with a snap, dark looming wings that never manage to bump into anything, a silent observance while forming thoughts and with all of this in mind their reserved nature always seems to get them into trouble. may the mother hold them as they navigate this unthinkable time. ; written by honey. 

𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐬

full  name  .  kerim cevik

age  .  35  appearance  /  350  actual

sexuality  .  heterosexual

occupation  .  war lord of an illyrian camp

species  .  illyrian

loyalty  .  the night court

height  .  6'5"

𝐝𝐞𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐬

growing  up  so  remote  didn’t  give  kerim  many  ideas  of  the  world  outside  of  the  war  camp.  he  trained  night  and  day  alongside  his  fellow  illyrians,  hoping  to  never  be  needed,  but  planning  for  the  worst.  it  made  for  a  rather  grim  upbringing,  never  having  a  childhood  as  he  was  nothing  but  a  warrior.  the  only  connection  the  young  boy  had  to  any  true  sentiment  was  his  twin  brother,  someone  he  was  closer  with  than  any  other.  their  mother  was  far  too  busy  tending  to  the  young,  father  one  of  the  hardest  trainers  in  the  place.  they  were  left  to  their  own  devices,  expected  to  perform  and  be  the  absolute  best.

the  pressure  on  his  shoulders  made  kerim  a  rather  quite  child.  he  learned  to  observe,  plan,  think,  and  speak  when  his  thoughts  were  fully  formed.  he  was  not  rash,  not  brazen  like  his  brothers  or  untamed  like  his  fellow  warriors.  kerim  truly  became  the  image  his  parents  wanted.  any  goofy  tendency  was  hidden  behind  closed  doors,  a  perfect  warrior  when  anyone  else  was  looking.  it’s  why  there  was  nos  surprise  when  the  former  war-lord  of  the  camp  took  the  young  boy  under  his  wing,  a  special  interest  in  a  potential  successor.  the  man  never  had  children,  but  as  he  aged  he  realized  that  running  a  camp  was  not  the  rest  of  his  life.  kerim  proved  to  be  a  potential  answer  to  the  problem  the  war-lord  found.

years  would  pass,  and  kerim  would  become  the  most  skilled  in  the  camp,  the  best  trainer,  a  leader  who  cared  for  his  fellow  illyrians  but  pushed  them  to  be  the  best.  when  the  war-lord  was  ready  to  leave,  retire  and  take  a  step  back,  the  night  court  general  had  no  questions.  kerim  became  the  new  war-lord  and  has  served  in  the  position  for  nearly  4  decades  now.

kerim  can  come  off  as  intimidating  and  stoic,  but  he’s  really  just  quietly  watching  things.  around  his  warriors,  it  ranges.  those  he  trusts  the  most,  he  can  be  goofy,  make  sarcastic  comments  that  seem  entirely  serious,  and  snap  right  back  into  war-lord  mode.  to  most,  he’s  a  good  leader,  respected  by  his  illyrians  and  always  striving  to  do  them  right.  he  doesn’t  yell,  he  doesn’t  show  anger,  and  he  pushes  them  to  be  the  best  knowing  they  can.  he  can  be  a  bit  difficult  to  get  close  to,  but  once  you  are  he  very  much  is  loyal  to  a  fault  and  will  do  anything  for  the  people  he  loves.  he’s  loyal  to  the  high  lord,  not  understanding  why  any  other  camp  leaders  would  feel  otherwise.  his  camp  is  well  known  for  being  one  of  the  most  progressive,  but  also  producing  some  of  the  best  warriors.  they  also  have  a  special  legion  of  women  who  are  very  difficult  to  get  into  and  feared  for  their  skill. 

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬

on  main  : 

other  ideas  : 

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬

✦  𝔨𝔢𝔯𝔦𝔪 𝔠𝔢𝔳𝔦𝔨  *⁎  ,  ✦  𝔨𝔢𝔯𝔦𝔪  ⁑  threads  *⁎

✦  𝔨𝔢𝔯𝔦𝔪 𝔠𝔢𝔳𝔦𝔨  *⁎  ,  ✦  𝔨𝔢𝔯𝔦𝔪  ⁑  inspo  *⁎

✦  𝔨𝔢𝔯𝔦𝔪 𝔠𝔢𝔳𝔦𝔨   *⁎  ,  ✦  𝔨𝔢𝔯𝔦𝔪  ⁑  dev.  *⁎

✦  𝔨𝔢𝔯𝔦𝔪 𝔠𝔢𝔳𝔦𝔨   *⁎  ,  ✦  𝔨𝔢𝔯𝔦𝔪  ⁑  image  *⁎

[saltminerising]

clearing up some natdom stuff

alright so quick disclaimer, I can't speak for the entire flight or the planning team for DtB, but as someone who's pretty involved in nature dominance efforts, I want to address some of the comments that ppl have brought up. also this isn't intended to be an attack on either nature flight members or earth flight members, this is really just me summing up my own thoughts.

I think most of the critiques so far have been very fair and understandable, and I've had my own share of frustrations with the way events were run this year. sorry folks, buckle up because this is a long ass post.

Discourse Related Stuff

1) regarding the one FRD thread about "noo guys earth is the grinch that stole christmas", as far as I could tell the original post was made in a lighthearted manner and I doubt it was made in genuine bad faith. To be fair, some of the comments do seem a bit petty, but the vast majority of natdom members I've talked to have been very chill about the whole ordeal. In fact, most of the comments that seemed to have rubbed people the wrong way were probably made by nature flight members who have had less experience with dominance. Yeah I get that it can be frustrating to feel like your flight's being accused of stealing dominance, but cut people some slack, not everyone's intention is to blame your flight, sometimes people who don't have the whole picture misunderstand the situation and comment stuff. (response to this post and this post)

2) regarding the DtB raffle update regarding extra tickets offered during frigidfin expedition, yeah I'm not going to lie, that probably could've been worded better by the organizers. I totally see where you guys are coming from. I think the intention was to incentivize stuff, but sort of implying that earth stole dom from you is probably not a great way to go about convincing people to help you. (response to this post)

3) also yeah not to be the devil's advocate or anything but just the way dominance works on fr means that earth exalting more dragons than usual usually bumps them up to first place. that's just how it works. if arcane flight was the smallest flight, the same would be true for arcane. it's not really fair to blame an entire flight for being small, and i don't think anyone is blaming earth for wanting to get money during frigidfin, but like yeah it can kind of be demoralizing to have pretty much the de-facto FR dom powerhouse flip you during a solo conquest, because that usually means that if Earth really wanted to, they could beat you without breaking a sweat. (response to this post and this post)

DtB Raffle Related Stuff

1) Some "confidential" behind the scenes information fresh from the Natdom planning discord, I will say that the whole raffle tickets addition thing was a pretty last-minute fix for a problem that we didn't expect. thanks OP for being understanding. (response to this post)

2) yeah also ngl, if I were an OOF person who wanted to participate in DtB and then saw that there was NO exalt payout for sending dragons, I would turn around and nope the fuck out, even if the badges were pretty. I totally get that. I want my dragon cash. in the future, one potential fix for this would be to just have the DtB badges available as a randomized extra you get for sending dragons into the raffle or the PB. Something to track on a personal spreadsheet like the randomized badges that Ice did for IvW years ago. maybe next year, I guess. (response to this post and this post)

TL;DR

Earth flight wants to make money (like any other flight does). It'd be illogical to fault an entire flight for wanting to exalt dragons for treasure during an exp bonus season. For people who are genuinely upset over the board flips during the week, because that the way FR dom works, Earth just has a slight game mechanic advantage, and that there were no ill-intentions or "evil Earth flight trying to steal dominance."  It's just how the game works lol. 

Nature flight wants to celebrate DtB, which has been a pretty longstanding tradition for Natdom. The shift from a fundraiser profit push to a conquest push is new this year, so adjusting the old badge-buying framework to a conquest push style has had its fair share of issues. Understandably, there was a bit of confusion and frustration within the flight regarding the board flips, but I genuinely don't think the majority of Natdom felt "entitled" to a win and "didn't want to work for it," it's moreso just no one expected frigidfin to fall during DtB, and the way DtB is structured really isn't a straightforward conquest push (which honestly should've been changed for this year but it is what it is.)

the tl;dr for the tl;dr

bro fr dominance just wacky like that lol. the wonders of miscommunication really do form the basis of epic drama and tea, but DtB is over. i'm just gonna pack it up and go home until the next push happens. 

also saltmins, if my links break i will throw fists. links in order if they break

1a) https://saltminerising.tumblr.com/post/703295074096807936/man-i-dont-even-think-the-nature-dom-post-read-as

1b) https://saltminerising.tumblr.com/post/703267464621981696/as-im-active-in-dom-and-in-earth-i-was-gonna-try

2) https://saltminerising.tumblr.com/post/703235930288488448/the-tone-nature-dom-used-in-their-post-about-how

3a) https://saltminerising.tumblr.com/post/703334083950952448/posted-p-much-the-same-thing-abt-the-earth-stole

3b) https://saltminerising.tumblr.com/post/703332820450525184/to-the-person-here-complaining-about-how-earth

1) https://saltminerising.tumblr.com/post/703335359972573184/why-are-people-calling-nature-entitled-when

2a) https://saltminerising.tumblr.com/post/703350533141004288/the-problem-wasnt-just-the-joke-though

2b) https://saltminerising.tumblr.com/post/703325260566675456/yeah-the-nature-thing-comes-across-as-so-entitled

[of-substandard-parts-a]

HEADCANON // SHADOW

In some timelines (depending on when the thread is situated and whether it’s an AU or not) Lore owns a black cat called Shadow (so, this will either be in-between “Brothers” and “Descent” or after “Descent”). Originally, Shadow is a fabrication passed on from my time roleplaying Lore on Twitter; she was introduced to him by the Data I wrote with and now, she has her own little headcanon post.

The basics of Shadow: Shadow operates on half a braincell, but she’s very sweet and affectionate — despite Lore’s copious attempts to teach her how to single out humans and attack them, didn’t work, unsuccessful. She is a bit of a quirky little cat and craves loves attention. Her favourite spot to sleep is on Lore’s chest — he’s kind of like a big laptop charger, just like Data, so his chest is the warmest and most comfortable place to doze off on. The feline has some equilibrium issues, so she sometimes bumps into objects or miscalculates her jumps and falls on her face. She enjoys being in the presence of other people and cats; she’s very easy-going and, unlike Spot, does not try to escape Lore’s quarters — unless she really misses him.

Background information: There are literally numerous ways regarding when, where, and how Lore crossed paths with the cat, one of them being after “Descent” when he was not deactivated but simply put into custody, so he could defend himself before Starfleet would make their final determination (whether to deactivate him and ship him off to Daystrom, or reintegrate him into society with adequate guidance and counselling). While Starfleet contemplated their next course of action, Lore was permitted to wander around the ship with a security detail or his brother.

1. After meeting Spot, on the few occasions Data and Lore were in his brother’s quarters, Lore caught himself growing a certain fondness for the orange tabby — he was much less focused on hurling sarcasm at Data when his feline was present. Hence why Data proposed to take him to the cat shelter on the Enterprise and introduce him to the cats that were still available and required an owner. Naturally, Lore pretended to be disinterested, but within minutes — probably seconds — upon laying his eyes on Shadow he caved and adopted the black feline.

Or after “Brothers”...

2. In 2367, shortly after the conclusion of “Brothers,” Lore raced through Federation Space searching for a planet on which he could blow off some steam after his encounter with his father, Doctor Noonian Soong, and his brother, Data. He wanted to take out his anger on anyone or anything. He had travelled several lightyears and eventually found a planet — the perfect candidate to unleash his wrath on. The android stumbled upon an abandoned village and started to ravage it, and it was not until the influx of contradictory emotions overexerted his circuitry that he ceased his irateness and sat down. Several hours elapsed, during which Lore had been preoccupied, staring at his damaged hands and the puddle beneath his feet, watching the rain create ripples in the superficial pool of water, until his auditory sensors suddenly detected the light, but irregular footfalls of a creature behind him. Immediately, he leapt to his feet and was ready to toss rocks at whatever was approaching him, but when he saw the black feline, drenched, muddy, and injured — Lore didn’t know whether he’d been responsible for the limp — he sat down again, waiting for the cat to reach him. The black cat immediately started to rub her face against his shins and meowed softly, trying to jump on his lap, but her injuries impeded her from performing the act, and at that moment she looked just as forlorn as Lore. He decided to take her with him to his ship and nurse her back to health. Initially, he didn’t want to keep her, because he was afraid he might hurt her, or would fail at being a good owner, but the second he had cleaned and bandaged her, and she curled up beside him and fell asleep, he came to the conclusion that retrieving the cat to the planet would be a cruel thing to do, and thus, decided to offer her a forever home on his ship.

Another alternate universe...

3. During the intervening time between “Datalore” and “Brothers,” Lore had been involved in all sorts of shady, but lucrative affairs. He’d worked alongside pirates, black market vendors, merchants, and successfully deceived his competitors. At some point, he even ended up commandeering a nicked Romulan Warbird (more about this in another headcanon post that is specifically about this AU). Anyway, long story short, during one of his many errands to some dodgy planet near the border with the Ferengi, he visited a black market to procure “new” parts for the Warbird to get its cloaking device operational again. Shortly after he’d found all the necessary ingredients to finally complete his hard labour, a band of Nausicaans ran into him. Lore rebuked them and neutralised two of the six that constituted this band, promising to eliminate every single one of them should they make another attempt on his life. Miraculously enough, they stood down and the band of rogues and Lore each went their own way. However, they had barely parted ways when a black feline hobbled after him and meowed to garner his attention. Annoyed, Lore tried to shoo the cat, which attracted the Nausicaans’ attention again, and they immediately advanced, claiming that the cat is theirs and would make an acceptable dinner. At this unpleasant revelation, Lore shuddered in disgust but decided not to meddle in their affairs. Unfortunately, the feline seemed to be aware of her fate and, with a lot of effort, clambered into Lore’s bag, unbeknownst to the android and the Nausicaans. When he returned to the Warbird, and opened his bag, the black cat jumped out and started to run around the bridge, knocking equipment over and accidentally activated systems which Lore quickly had to disable or abort. A brief chase ensued in which the cat ran amok and Lore tried to capture her. Eventually, she managed to sneak into his personal quarters and hid and curled herself up in a small ball under the couch. While she snoozed, Lore lay down on his stomach and watched her sleep, thinking that perhaps having a little companion on board this humongous ship might not be such a bad idea after all, and decided to grant her asylum.

[lost-soul-in-time]

"Beg me for it." [tug] [palm] for Aaron?

Aaron had to be one of the most self-centered people he’s ever met.

Sure, Oliver thinks it’s amusing to irritate him, but just the man’s smirk when he manages to annoy him makes him want to smack it right off him. He didn’t like how he treated Ace, how he seemed to think he was better than everyone, how he could never keep his mouth shut, how disrespectful he is. It all made the spirit want to pull at his own hair from exasperation.

He especially hated how easily he pushes him against the wall and tells him to beg for what he wants. Cocky bastard.

His personal space is being thoroughly invaded, and the worst part is that this isn’t one of the things he hates about Aaron’s presence. It’s been too long since anyone has made any form of physical contact with him, and as much as he’d like to give in and relieve some of the tension in his body, all he does is turn his head away from the other’s searing gaze with a clearly forced scowl.

It doesn’t stay in that position for long however, because he feels a rough hand thread into his hair and force his head to tilt back. It faintly bumps the wall behind him, and he could only imagine the smug face on the murderous brother’s face as he shudders.

“Don’t test my patience, babe. I could always leave you to get off on your own.” With the unyielding grip on his hair, Aaron uses it to make him look back down at him (after he had dragged his teeth along Oliver’s neck, teasing the prospect of biting down but not giving in to the temptation just yet).

“Go on then. Beg me for it, be a good whore.”

Fuck.

His resistance falters, and when he feels a hand drift down to palm at his clothed cock, the moan it earns is impossible to conceal, the sound nearly punched out of him through tightly sealed lips as he tries to subtly roll into the touch. It’s a blessing that Aaron’s been this patience so far, and any other person may have given him what he was asking for… but no. Oliver wanted to test his luck, push and prod at every button he could find and see how far that patience would last.

Considering his nature, it shouldn’t take much, right?

Through gritted teeth, he laughs with a slight quiver, a daring look in his eyes. “Make me.”

Aaron smiles, an unkind and malevolent thing. Oliver swallows.

[seeingteacupsindragons]

Weird Questions for Writers Ask: 1, 19, 30, 33 please

1. What font do you write in? Do you actually care or is that just the default setting?

I write in Constantia. I actually made it the default on all the writing software on my computer. I prefer serif fonts, and Constantia has just this bit of character while still being totally readable.

I did use to have a Thing where every story would have its own font and color, and I mostly haven't changed those back, but, uh, yeah, I don't do that anymore.

There was also a period where Palatino Linotype was my default, but I've switched over

19. Tell me a story about your writing journey. When did you start? Why did you start? Were there bumps along the way? Where are you now and where are you going?

This is going to be a long answer, because my writing journey has been long.

The first story I remember writing was when I was 6. I stapled a bunch of loose leaf together and decided when I filled it, I would have reached the end. That's not how anything works, but to a 6 year old, it kind of is.

You may recognize the age of 6 around the same time many kids really start to be able to write sentences. I was a very early reader and loved books deeply since, so it made sense to me at the time I would use my words, once I had them, to write my own.

I've written fiction off and on--almost always on, and more on the older I got, ever since. By the time I was in middle school, authoring because The Thing I wanted to do. I went to college for creative writing. Did my first NaNo at 17. Finished my first (different) novel at 18. Queried agents with a novel for the first time when I was 21, just after I'd graduated.

So, yeah. I've been writing for a long, long time, probably longer than many people following me on this blog (because you don't have to be that much younger than me for that to be true), and been actively pursuing education and growing as a writer for....most of that time.

I like to think it's paid off in my skill.

30. Talk to me about the role dreams play in your writing life. Have you ever used material from your dreams in your writing? Have you ever written in a dream? Did you remember it when you woke up?

I've written a couple dreams down as "This is interesting, could write about it," but with the nature of dreams, they always require a lot of work to turn into anything that could be writable that I don't think I've ever actually written a single one.

33. Do you practice any other art besides writing? Does that art ever tie into your writing, or is it entirely separate?

I've dabbled in lots! Drawing was definitely the one I did most, longest, and best, and the one I do most often these days (although not that often). I have historically drawn a lot of my characters. I made a few very very bad attempts at comics as a child.

And if you count role-playing as an art and a game, maybe that. My dad taught me how to play D&D by the time I was about 5 or so, just old enough to play, but pretending to be other characters with your friends and doing character improv (without even necessarily writing it down) is a very creative act and I think a form of art. It's another way to play with storytelling, in my experience.

I think after that, it's probably...sewing? My mother always made my costumes for Halloween growing up, and once I got old enough, I had to help with costumes. I still do a lot of the work to make my own costumes. I'm not real good, but I always have good design ideas, I think, and I like dressing up and putting pieces together that I've purchased when that's necessary. I have soooo many costume pieces hanging around. And so, so much extra cloth and thread and cording and shiz.

My apartment has the remains and bits and pieces of many arts I've tried over the years. Origami paper. Jewelry-making supplies. Stickers and tissue paper and calligraphy pens and charcoal and fancy pencils and erasers and construction paper and markers and Bristol paper and--

Creation is Good.

[grieverled-moved]

"i want the k"

He wasn't normally an affectionate man. Key word being 'normally'. If he were to think back on the past, to how hard he tried to keep a distance from those around him, how often he'd brushed off touches of any sort to keep himself shelled off, protected from what bubbled away beneath his skin. A longing to give into that urge to hold & be held . . . he never would have expected himself to swim within it so easily in the present. There are still some hurdles to overcome, some bumps in the road, days where his skin crawls, feeling trapped when a hand claps around his own or any other part of him too tight for comfort - that urge to run & the panic that flares when something lingers in an overstayed welcome.

But he was getting better. Easing up, softening. While on the surface it seems not much has changed, he's proud to say it's not the same behind closed doors, in rare moments of stolen quiet calm - where he's walled off, able to lower his own in privacy to unveil that gentler part of himself to someone he trusts.

He'd never have expected it to be Seifer of all people, but in a way, he's far from surprised it'd progressed to this point given how similar they were in some ways, that thread of understanding remaining intact despite all the years & obstacles faced. Despite everything, he still feels that connection in a way that makes the progression feel so much more natural.

Lazy fingers weave themselves between warmer ones, feeling the steady thrumming pulse that beat in reassurance beneath. He gives the hand in his a calling squeeze, curling against the blonde with a content sigh, soaking up the closeness in the early morning hours within the dimmed light of the room. Could never keep the lights fully off, for reasons he'd rather not explain to anyone else out loud - his mind is smoothed back down before it wanders any further, eased back as he draws his focus down to the other with sleep-tinged sights.

He really should go back to bed, possibly might still - but the urge to make sure the other is there, that he'll still be there when he wakes up next, it sticks enough for him to stay clinging to the other gun-blader until he feels the pull again.

He's not a clingy person, not normally so affectionate or tender by nature, not one to show his softness so openly unless there's a specific reason that draws him to, over-ridden with care or worry - but here, it's easy to forget it when he leans over, just enough to mumble an apology in case he woke the other up before kissing the edge of Seifer's jaw with a groggy sort of focus before he starts to doze again.

Send me 'I want the K' and I'll generate a number                       ➤ @burntchild [ ; ] 9: Jawline Kiss

[pleasantanathema]

Reiner Braun | Instinctual Invitations

Pairing: Reiner Braun x Fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ Only)

Warnings: ABO Dynamics (Alpha Reiner x Omega Reader), Breeding, Marking, Mating, Knotting, Heats, Ruts, Frenemies to Lovers

Word Count: 5k

A/N: Part of my Nine Muses Event to celebrate 9k! Follow the link to read other fanfics I’m writing to celebrate. This was definitely a labor of love. I’ve fallen back into my appreciation for ABO dynamics, and Reiner just screams “perfect mate” to me. 💜

          No one made suppressants stronger than Hange. They never divulged just what was in their special concoction, but all you knew was that it was damn near impossible for someone to discern that you were an Omega.

           You’d even fooled that naive, arrogant, hubristic Alpha partner of yours for years. There was a particular disdain you held for Reiner. You could never really name it, but all you knew was that working with the giant man made your instincts sour. He seemed so good on the outside, all prideful charm and heavy pats on the shoulders of his peers, but when the two of you worked cases alone, his charisma always had a bite to it.

           Maybe it was because he could tell there was something equally off about his “Beta” partner, maybe it was because he had some pent up rage inside him he only let seep out around you. You didn’t know, you didn’t care. You were patiently waiting for him to be re-assigned to the Behavioral Science Unit like he’d requested last month, but Erwin’s dawdling with the request had you worried he wasn’t about to separate his most successful Scout partners, even if they didn’t get along.

           “Is my bow tie straight?”

          Reiner asked you to hold his drink while he fiddled with the offending cloth.

           “Yeah.”

           “You didn’t even look.”

           The whiskey from his glass was expensive, sliding down smooth when you took a drink. Rei let out a very frustrated noise, so loud and huffy it had the guests of the award ceremony glancing toward him. The hotel ballroom was crowded, filled with elites from Military Police, Scouts, even the fucking Garrison. There were too many people here to watch you and Reiner stumble over the acceptance speech; there were too many people here to judge that Scouts were being awarded this time around.

           “Now your fucking lipstick is all over it.”

           “Oh please, it tastes like cherries, you’ll get over it.”

           Both of you were nervous, flattered but timid about being given a Meritorious Achievement Award for all your fieldwork done killing and documenting titans around the outer-wilds of the city. Fighting for survival in the trees was less stressful than trying to make a good impression on the brass as you received one of the highest honors.

           You took another gulp of his drink before passing it back, trying to stave off the very worrisome nerves twisting in your gut. Sweat was forming at the nape of your neck, staining your palms. You shifted uncomfortably in your heels, feet feeling heavy.

           It made you feel some better that the usually proud Alpha next to you was just as worried about giving a speech in front of Dhalis Zachary. The Premier was known for being strict, for demanding that military appearance be of the highest standard in front of donors.

          Reiner was still fucking with his tie, angry muscles about to rip the threads of his tuxedo.

          “You look fine,” you sighed, toning back the bitterness. You moved away from the balcony railing, wrapping your fingers around the black polyester ribbon and tightening it into sitting straight under his square jaw. But for some reason, you couldn’t let go, nails gripping into the fabric.

          “Are you okay? You looked scared to shit,” Reiner plucked your hands off his tie, holding a wrist in each burning hand, “I can do all the talking, you know. You can just stand there and look pretty.”

          “Y-yeah, I’m fine.” You weren’t. You knew this feeling, it was old and familiar, a churning pain laced with need slowly brewing in your belly, making you sick.

          But your suppressants would take care of the issue, surely it was just your nerves that were making those heats you’d forsaken start to claw at you.

          You hadn’t gone through a heat cycle in three years. Hange had suggested you take time off once a year to let your body go through it’s natural process, but you’d been so damn busy that you’d neglected to do so. Besides, you never had any issues, just a few flare ups when a particularly good looking Alpha close to their rut got near you.

          This time was different, though, you could feel it. This flame wasn’t going to be extinguished once it got started—you’d have to go home after the gala and curl up, stop taking the suppressants in the morning so your heat could come to life in the next few days.

          God you dreaded that feeling, cunt always quivering and squeezing around nothing, sweating in a blanket nest that only carried your scent and maybe a lingering, nameless male scent from a one-night stand.

          “Hey,” Rei moved his hands to rest on your shoulders, shaking you, “get your shit together. We’ll be awarded in a few hours and then we can go the fuck home. Tired of being around your bitchy ass anyways.”

          His hands were too hot. They were sweaty like yours, making you feel dizzy.

          “I’m gonna be sick.”

          You could feel it. Reiner could smell it.

          “What the fuck is wrong with y—”

          He dropped the last syllable, golden eyes turning into molten amber the moment your scent hit him full force. You thought he’d take his hands off, that he’d give you some space, but those instincts to protect must have taken over because he was pulling you closer like that would help.

          “You’re a Beta, you don’t go into—”

          “Omega, Rei. I’m a fucking Omega and I don’t need you telling anyone about it.”

          You whispered your confession, eyes going glassy as you looked around the room, saw faces turning in your direction. Most of the old men here were mated, but that didn’t mean the building brew of the heat of an unmarked Omega wouldn’t catch their attention. Your neck throbbed, scent glands betraying you and pumping beneath your skin.

          You felt like clawing at Reiner’s chest, digging your fingers into the perfectly pressed designer shirt and burying your face into it to be overwhelmed by Alpha presence. You thought you could stave this off, but the nerves, this proximity to an Alpha...you needed to get the fuck out of here.

          “You’re going to have to take the award for-for both of us,” oh now you were stuttering, you were losing it, Reiner’s deeply masculine scent making you feel like a puddle. You hated these instincts, hated how it made you feel weak, hated how he smelled like the most inviting bakery and familiarity and how it made you want to fall to your knees and beg for the aching hole between your legs to be stuffed.

          “You can’t get home on your own, do you know how many Alphas would kill for—”

          You were pulling away from him, grabbing your purse so you could scrounge for those emergency suppressants to hopefully curtail this heat.

          The pills were absent, your resolve fading as you felt like crumpling into the floor and clutching your stomach. You knew people were starting to notice, noses in the air to find out where the overly sweet smell of an Omega was coming from.

          “I don’t need your help.”

          “Who else knows?” You didn’t like how the rumble of his voice made your skin tingle, made your panties feel too tight, wet.

          “Hange, Levi, the higher ups. They know, they saw it on my app-application. Said it would be…” you were starting to lose your train of coherent thoughts.

          “...best if no one knew?”

          Omegas were scarce. Omegas were weak. But you’d proven yourself in your training, you were too valuable for Commander Erwin to deny your approval into the Scouts.

          “Just—just tell people I got sick. That the stupid little shrimp hors d'oeuvres... f-fuck me,” you meant to say something else, something like they fucked with me, but all you could think about was how those strong hands felt on your shoulders and how they would feel so good pawing at your hips as he plowed into you to relieve your stress.

          Making a beeline out of the ornate, crowded ballroom, you had to excuse yourself as you bumped into a few backs and sides, stumbling over your feet as the clawing need in your stomach made you lose focus. You just had to get home. Grab a cab. Hope it’s not an Alpha driving, just get home to your nesting pillows and bury your fingers into your—

          Reiner was calling your name. If he was your Alpha you’d be stopping in your tracks to listen to his commands, but he wasn’t. He was your terrible, annoying...strong, capable, definitely had a fat cock…

          You didn’t know what you were thinking about when he finally caught up to you, pushing you outside the front doors. You wished it was winter, but it was a hot summer night, which just made the heat in your body worse, made your scent heavier, floating on the humidity. And there were people around, lobby boys taking in bags and tired families dragging their feet inside. Still the fresh air felt good, or at least it did, until Reiner invaded it with his scent again.

          “I’ll get you home,” he placed his hand on your lower back, palm touching bare, tender skin from the low cut of your dress, and you came undone. You pressed yourself into his thick chest, wrapping your arms around him and fisting them into the back of his shirt. You could hear him grunt at the contact, the two of you never the type of partners to go beyond a pat on the back or a punch to the arm.

          “N-not gonna make it home…”

          “Fucking shit I always knew there was something different about you.”

          He was dragging you back into the hotel, firm hand around your wrist.

          “I can’t help how I was born.”

          “Yeah but you could have fucking told me.”

          You quit your bickering as Reiner paid for a hotel room, you pressed to his side and trying to mask the scent of ripe, ready to fuck Omega underneath simmering Alpha. You snatched the key card on the counter from a very concerned concierge, listening but not really as she explained there were special rates for those in heat.

          “I didn’t want you to know.”

          People were staring now, the smell of Omega becoming so heavy it even bothered you. Rei tucked his arm around your waist, leading you toward the elevators. There was a sour, thirsty taste in your mouth as you listened to your heels clink upon the marbled floor. The scent of arousal was on him, but it wasn’t his fault, just his biology reacting to yours.

          You straightened your shoulders as you saddled up next to him in the elevator, watching the doors slowly close.

          “Reiner—”

          “Shut up.”

          He was on you in an instant, heavy body pressing you into the mirrored wall.

          “I should have known,” his voice was low, like he was divulging a secret, “a little Omega under my nose all long.”

          You gasped as one of his hands skimmed up your thigh, thumb swirling circles upon your skin.

          “D-don’t do this here, I can’t—” you couldn’t take it, you were putty in his hands, already looping a leg around his thigh and fussing with the buttons on his shirt. You needed to feel his skin, needed to drown in the scent of an Alpha.

          You were half way through peeling his shirt off his pectorals, that goddamn bowtie still in place, when your throat began to hurt. Reiner actually laughed at you when you paused your hasty undressing, having to cradle the left side of your neck as your scent glands throbbed, begging for teeth to be sunk into the sensitive skin to be marked, claimed.

          “Don’t you dare think about m-marking me,” god you wouldn’t be able to stop stuttering until you were stuffed with something, until you were able to chase away the aches before they returned again in a few hours.

          “But isn’t that what little Omegas want?” He was toying with you, grin so cocky you felt like sinking your thumbs into his smile and hurting him. His fingers were under your dress, dangerously close to your aching sex. His hand was so hot against your skin, so calloused and strong. You felt like Icarus, like you were flying too close to the sun. The pad of his index finger curled against your panties and you could have sworn you were already burning.

          You lifted your lips to catch his, only to have him turn his cheek as the elevator chimed, signaling your arrival to your floor.

          You followed in his steps, tracing your dress hem from where his giant palm had touched it, your fingers moving it even higher to try to alleviate the warmth stemming from between your legs. The keycard was heavy in your hand, like it was about to open a door to something wicked.

          “I-I can take care of this myself,” your placed your back against the door to your room, “and I’ll pay you back for the fees, just let me—”

          “Just let you what? Go fuck yourself in misery for the next five days?”

          God he looked so tempting, so big. He towered over you, scents of sex and earth and spice, like black cardamum and the bitter burn of peppers. You wanted to sink your fingers into his blonde hair and pull, pull him down to you, into you.

          But you reminded yourself you’d be patiently waiting for him to leave your life. Mating with him could have him sticking around, could have the two of you fucking up and getting attached.

          “Y-you have to accept the award,” you were literally slipping into the floor, gut twisting so badly that it felt like you were being ripped apart, your heat bursting into full bloom after his teasing touches. Reiner caught your upper arms to keep you up, making you whimper, and you knew the last thing you wanted was to be alone, even if it meant ruining yourself on Reiner’s cock.

          “Your scent has made me harder than I’ve ever been in my fucking life. I paid for the room because I’m staying in it, sweetheart.”

          He took the card from your weak fingers and shoved it into the reader, a big, heavy palm pressing against your stomach and pushing you into the open doorway. He kept his fingers on you, twisting his knuckles into the fabric of your dress.

          “Rei, don’t—”

          “I’m so fucking tired of playing games with you.”

          The threads snapped with a twist of his wrist, the delicate front of your dress parting as the heavy hotel door slammed shut. His hands were rough, quick, tearing and pawing at your dress, your bra, and all you could do was moan and kick your heels off to be forgotten on the floor.

          He pulled his crisp black jack off his shoulders, tossing it onto a desk chair, trousers and everything underneath following.

          “I-I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” You were already on him, pressing your naked chest to his and standing on your toes so you could bury your face into his neck. You couldn’t help but to purr, that soothing musk of Alpha encompassing all your senses. Fingers sunk into his body, your tongue hot against his skin as you laid kitten licks to his throat.

         ��“No wonder I can’t stand you,” Reiner’s hands were gliding down your back, admiring smooth, willing flesh, “why you make me fucking crazy.”

          “Please shut up and fuck me.”

          His tempting hands found your neck, thumb petting at the sore, pounding spot on your throat. It only made your scent stronger, made you keen and practically fall into him.

          “Kiss me first, like you mean it.”

          You didn’t have to be told twice.

          Any fight you had left dissipated when his tongue slipped into your mouth, hands still encased around your neck and keeping you pliant for him to taste. Your nails sunk into his shoulders, toes hurting from strain as you pushed your mouth up into his. God he tasted so good, like the first taste of food after starving, and your body had been starving for years. Unknotted, unmarked, your body was screaming for him, looking for an Alpha to fill you in ways that your measly attempts over the years never could.

          Violence was on the tip of his tongue, you could taste it, feel it in the way he started to squeeze the delicate column of your throat. Rut was kicking in, the overwhelming pheromones of Omega making his body respond, ready to knot, ready to devour.

          Slick was pouring down your thighs as you kissed him, body overly ready for him. Your stomach was twisting in coils, so painful that it made you gasp and pull away from his kiss, ready to fall into the floor if his hands didn’t keep you on your feet.

          “H-hurts, so, so bad,” you whined, trying to focus your breathing.

          Reiner started slowly moving you back toward the bed, thumbs now petting at the apples of your cheeks as tears started to form in your lower lashes.

          “Shh, shh, it’s okay, Alpha will take care of you.”

          Normally, the thought of Rei referring to himself as Alpha would repulse you, make you gag at how arrogant he was, but in this moment it made you so weak, made you moan as he crawled over your body on the bed. You were so little under him, dwarfed by brawn, small prey begging to be snatched and taken.

          His title was on the front of your mouth, ready to fall out, for you to call him what he was to you, but the sliver of sense you had left kept it at bay. You knew calling him Alpha could put you in a heat induced headspace you might not be able to come out of, might have you making lusty, hasty decisions that you’d regret once this god forsaken heat was over.

          “Rei-ner,” it was forced, he could tell, the syllables stuck to your tongue.

          He nuzzled into your neck, purring as he fell into the intoxication of your scent glands. Hands raked over your body, each touch jolting you like electricity, the webs of nerves under your skin coming alive as he toyed with you. Your legs spread instinctively to make room for his hips, but he kept his weight off of you, propping himself on his elbows.

          “So fucking perfect,” he mused, thumb trailing along your swollen lips, smearing the lipstick he’d complained about earlier, “should’ve told me sooner. I would’ve fucked you through every heat.”

          His words made you coo, made your fingers weave into his blonde hair and pull him down for another kiss. You couldn’t get enough of his taste, whiskey and fire and something sickenly sweet, like pure honey over powdered sugar. Reiner was still holding back, you could practically feel growls stuck in his chest when your hands eagerly wandered over his plush pectorals.

          So big. He’d be such a good protector. Such a good mate.

          “Need you, need you, Rei, p-please,” you shifted your hips as you spoke, ready to flip onto your stomach so he could take you from behind. It’s how you got through all the heats you ever had before; face down in pillows, letting some Alpha fuck you senseless like nature intended. But his hands stilled you, pinned you down below him.

          “Wanna watch your face as I take what’s mine.”

          The tips of your ears felt scorched from his words and the blood in your body flushed under your skin.

          His. You wanted to be his, fuck, you wanted your Alpha, needed him, need him to knot you and—

          “Take me, f-fuck, I hurt so bad,” you were crying again, the pain in your womb like a knife sawing through flesh, twisting and turning.

          “Gonna take such good care of you.”

          And you knew he would. That’s the way Reiner was. A protector. A provider. Arrogant to mask the sweetness, prideful to hide the humility.

          Big hands cupped your cheeks as his cockhead brushed through your folds, sending your neck flying back as you screamed just from the relief of feeling him spread your overheated slick.

          “Gonna fill you to the brim with my cum.”

          That broke you. Your last little grip on your sanity was remembering that Hange’s suppressants didn’t mix well with birth control. You hadn’t been on the pill for years, and with how strong this heat was, how repressed your body had felt, you were probably more fertile than you’d ever been.

          “Fuck,” your hands found his face, and when he looked at you, you sailed away in the gold currents of his gaze, “breed me.”

          His massive cock started to sink into your tight hole, the copious amounts of slick gushing from inside of you making his penetration easier. But even still, he was so engorged with blood and hormones ready to knot that his fat cock struggled to breach that first tight ring of muscle. You hissed, not from pain, but from relief, so ready to be full that no amount of stretching would detract from your pleasure.

          Heavy hands were on your hips, pulling you down to take all of him in. He was finally growling, your walls constricting around him and making him go absolutely mad.

          “Gonna breed you, Omega, give you my babies, f-fuck yes, have you dripping with cum.”

          The blinding pleasure was almost devastating, making you feel numb, making you feel like this was all you ever needed in the whole goddamn world—all you needed was Reiner’s cock to bring you rapture, to have you ascending to the holy planes that zealots coveted.

          “Move,” it was a quick plea, your legs curling around his waist in encouragement, “please, please fuck me, breed me.”

          He started a slow pace, but was enough to have you spiraling, eyes fluttering shut as you got lost in him. One of his hands swatted at your cheek, just enough to sting.

          “Eyes open. Watch me, be with me.”

          You tried your best to obey, but the drumming of his cock in your cunt had you seeing dark spots even as your eyes opened again. Reiner kept his hand on your face, locking it around your jaw so you watched him as he fucked you, his beautiful, defined cheekbones tinted pink as he became overwhelmed with his rut.

          How many times had you looked at him before? How many days had you spent working alongside him, doing your best to avoid looking at him? He got under your skin, made you feel weak. Maybe this was why, maybe you were repressing just how much you wanted him. Maybe he was meant to be your—

          “Alpha,” you breathed it out, let it fan over his ears, let it sink into his psyche.

          The word felt like a relief, like a sin. That attachment you feared was already caging you in.

          His pace kicked up to something brutal as you acknowledged not just his biology, but his title to you.

          You screamed so loudly that it hurt, had your throat burning as your moans bled into whines and mewls as he took from your willing cunt.

          A cacophony of sex filled the hotel room, the sound of primal grunts, shrill little screams, of flesh against flesh, balls slapping against your ass, his cock ramming into your squelching, drooling pussy.

          “That’s right, fuck, you’re mine, Omega. Mine.” He repeated the last word a few more times as he bent your legs farther back, straddling your thighs with his muscular legs as he folded you into a mating press. His cock began to stroke that sweet, spongy spot inside of you at the new angle, drilling into you at just the right curve to have you cumming before your body could even enjoy the build up.

          You shattered, cunt clenching and as you were so pleased to orgasm around a thick Alpha cock. You were babbling nonsense, even thanking him for letting you cum. Just a string of pleas and AlphaAlphaAlpha pouring off your tongue and melting into his sweaty skin.

          Your orgasm had your scent fresh in the room, had your neck fucking pounding with the need to be bitten, to be claimed.

          Reiner could smell it, could smell your insatiable need, instincts picking up on words you just couldn’t say.

          “Let me have you,” he demanded it between kisses to your shoulder, lips trailing up and stopping at the saccharine reek of your scent glands just below your jaw.

          He wouldn’t claim you without permission, he wasn’t that kind of man, wasn’t that kind of Alpha.

          You fell into a symphony of moans, neck tilting back in instinctual insinuation, but mouth still unwilling to make that plea. But then his scent overwhelmed you again, like spicy hot peppers and the sweetest sugar flooding over your body. You knew that scent by heart, had smelled it in smaller increments every day for years, had tried to ignore it, but now you couldn’t.

          His cock was swelling inside of you, his ruthless pace and your lingering orgasm edging him closer to release. The hand on your hip had bruised your skin, perfect indent of his palm, his long fingers, etched into your skin. The other was pulling at your neck, pushing your face to the side as he skimmed the bridge of nose along your skin, waiting, wanting.

          “Omega,” he purred, calling you, begging you, “please, yours, mine.”

          He was losing his thoughts too, drowning in instincts and euphoria.

          Your fingers laced in his hair, pulling his mouth closer to what he wanted.

          “Yours, Alpha, f-fuck,” your acceptance was loud and clear, even through the fog and sounds of sex. One bite was all it took, teeth barely sinking into your skin. You cried from how good it felt, that ache finally silenced as his tongue lapped over that patch on your neck that could now only belong to him.

          A bond was tightening, something scientists still couldn’t fully explain—being marked, claimed, it tethered you to someone beyond all comprehension. It was like making a deal with a devil, selling your soul, and for you, it was an admittance to attraction and acceptance of intimacy that you felt with Reiner.

          The act of marking had his cock swelling inside you, knotting you and spilling his seed into your depths to stay. That overbearing fullness had you tumbling over the orgasmic mountain again, had you clinging and screaming, colors you’d never fucking seen before bursting in the corners of your eyes and traveling over your body like fireworks. You shivered in his arms, quaked, fell apart, and he held you. Purring, comforting, like he’d finally brought you home.

          Time didn’t seem to exist, lines between pleasure and pain so blurred that you couldn’t even feel the burn in your legs from being spread open for so long. You stayed in that mating press for what felt like hours. Reiner kept kissing at your neck, letting his scent blend in with yours.

          You’d never smell the same again. You’d always be tainted with him, carry bits of his scent with you forever. The thought didn’t even bother you, just brought you comfort, made you purr as your fingers lazily threaded through his hair.

          Finally, his cock became soft enough for him to pull out of you, lines of cum dripping from your abused pussy as he fell on his back next to you.

          The love hormones kicked in, had you curling around him even as you stretched out weary muscles. You were ready to sleep, ready to rest until the next wave of your heat came in a few hours and had you pleading for him again.

          But a pesky thought plagued your mind, a jealous one, one you’d never had about another Alpha before.

          How many other Omegas had wanted what was yours? How many of them had Reiner denied a claim to before you?

          “Why me?” you murmured into his heaving chest, fingertips drawing aimless circles in his downy chest hair.

          “Could ask you the same thing.”

          You sat up to look at him, to let him cup your cheek as his eyes flickered over your face.

          “How many Alphas have wanted you?”

          There was solace in knowing he had the same questions.

          “Haven’t had a heat since I met you.”

          Concern flashed across his face, that intensity you were used to seeing in his brow coming to life.

          “You won’t do that again.”

          His command made you feel warm, had your belly already pulling and churning and wanting again.

          “I won’t. Because even though you’re a shitty partner, you’re my mate.”

          That realization swept over him hard and fast, a range of emotions painting his features before he settled on a smile.

          His thumb petted your skin, bringing you in for a kiss.

          “You’re the only award I needed tonight.”

[idmakeitbehave]

Did That Just Happen?

Summary: Sleep-deprived from the latest case, you let a confession of love slip. Spencer’s positive you didn’t mean it—no matter how much he may wish you did.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x gn!Reader

Word Count: 1.2k

A/N: that’s right, another cheesy love confession!!! Shocking, I know. Also I wrote this in like an hour so do with that what you will

The never-ending case from hell is finally, blissfully over.

The team looks like a horde of zombies, all running on fumes and far too much caffeine. Even the relief of the unsub being caught isn’t enough to wipe the sleep deprivation from your faces. Everyone had just barely made it to the hotel, Hotch and Derek being the only ones alert enough to drive you all back.

There’s one last speed bump in this dreadful case—room reassignments. There was some issue or another in the booking system, and everyone’s been reassigned to different rooms for your final night.

Spencer can’t help but watch you out of the corner of his eye as everyone shuffles into the lobby, waiting for their new keys. You’re a little wobbly on your feet, and he can tell that you’re in a bit of a daze. It’s not much different from just about everyone else here, but Spencer finds himself far too concerned with your well-being in particular.

As if that’s anything new.

You lean into him a bit, and he can’t tell if you pretend not to notice the way he jumps or if you actually don’t notice. “I’m so excited to sleep,” you say, head dropping to his shoulder.

Spencer can’t manage more than a pitiful little nod. He doesn’t trust himself to speak and say anything that isn’t a ridiculous declaration of love.

The comfortable silence that takes over is broken when Hotch approaches the group with a stack of room keys in hand. He holds one out to you, and you accept it with a wide, almost goofy grin.

“Thanks, boss.”

And then it happens, so quick that Spencer almost believes that he’s imagining it: you kiss Spencer, right on the lips, soft and light and over much too soon.

“Love you, goodnight,” you mumble, as nonchalantly as if you’ve said it every night of your life.

And with that you turn and head into your hotel room just a few steps away, the door shutting behind you. Spencer blinks rapidly, staring at the door before turning back to the rest of the team. They’re all staring at him, eyes wide with both shock and amusement.

“Did that—did that just happen?” he asks before he can stop himself.

“Oh, it absolutely did,” Derek says, an undeniable gleam in his eye. “And I am so, so happy we were all here to witness this.”

Emily elbows him in the side, eliciting a dramatic oof. “What Derek means is: we told you so.”

Derek nods. “Can’t believe they were the first one to break. You better go get ‘em, lover boy.”

Hotch just barely manages to stop himself from rolling his eyes. “Okay, as entertaining as this has been, I’m going to bed.”

There’s a chorus of agreements, and before Spencer can even register it, he’s left standing alone in the hallway just outside your door. He contemplates his next move for longer than is probably acceptable, mind racing with what has just happened.

It was probably the sleep deprivation, he decides. Just a random slip of the tongue, like calling your teacher ‘Mom’ or telling the movie theater attendant to enjoy the show too. Something like that, something that would explain why you had suddenly kissed him on the lips and told him you loved him. A million different explanations run through his head, all except one—that you meant it. Because that one is simply too good to be true. There’s absolutely no way you meant it.

But what if you did?

Maybe it’s his own exhaustion getting the better of him, but Spencer’s desire to know the answer beats out his utter disbelief, and he knocks on your door.

He thinks that maybe you’ve fallen asleep when you don’t answer right away, but the door clicks open after another moment.

“Hey,” you say softly, not quite meeting his eyes.

Spencer doesn’t really know what to do in this situation. “Can I—can I come in?”

You nod, and he follows you to your bed. The two of you sit side by side, the once comfortable silence now tinged with just a hint of awkwardness.

“Why did you—”

“I’m sorry—”

“Wait. Why are you sorry?” Spencer asks. He tries to brace himself for the answer—you’re sorry you kissed him, sorry you said anything, sorry you ever knew him at all. (Spencer has quite the imagination.)

“I didn’t mean to—to kiss you. Or to say that,” you say, and all at once Spencer can feel his heart breaking into a million little pieces. And then: “That’s not how I wanted to tell you.”

He blinks at you. “What?”

You sigh. “I was just—so tired. And it kind of just came naturally? I’m sorry, Spence, I’m so embarrassed.”

You’re starting to get flustered now, and Spencer can’t help but think of nothing except how completely adorable you are.

“Not how you wanted to tell me? What does—what does that mean?”

You look up from the thread of the blanket you’d been picking at, and it’s as though the moment you meet his eyes you understand. You finally smile. “I didn’t really picture telling you I loved you for the first time in some sort of sleepless haze.”

Once again, Spencer finds himself near speechless. He watches you in disbelief, waiting for the punchline, but it doesn’t come.

Finally he asks, “You meant it?”

You nod. “Is that… is that okay?”

The question is so completely ludicrous that he breaks into a smile so wide his cheeks hurt. “It’s more than okay. It’s perfect.”

“Will you stay?”

Spencer nods. There’s nowhere he’d rather be.

The two of you are staring unabashedly at each other now. Spencer feels like his vision is going fuzzy, be it from the lack of sleep or the sudden realization that everything he’s ever needed is right in front of him. (It’s definitely both.)

In a burst of courage, Spencer pulls you towards him, the two of you flopping back onto the bed with a soft thud. He wants to bottle up the laugh you let out, to press the sound between the pages of a book.

Anything to have this moment forever.

You reach out and turn off the lights. The darkness envelopes the room, and it’s as though you and Spencer are the only two people in the world.

In a way, you are.

“Can I try it again?”

It takes him a second to process what you’ve asked. “Try what again?”

You don’t answer. “I love you,” you say instead. “Goodnight.”

If the first time had been perfect, then there are no words to describe this.

“I love you too,” he finally, finally says.

It’s quiet for a moment, and Spencer’s suddenly sure that you’ve realized your mistake, that this was all just one huge misunderstanding. The panic eats away at him for just a split second before you pull the covers up over you both. You kiss him again, slow and sure, and suddenly you’re both certain.

You’re going to say it every night of your life.

+++

Tags:

@diesinspanishbcimhispanic @myglitteringstardust @sapphic-prentiss @fandom-monium @julialuv1d @howdycharlie @fantastic-fans @saspencereid @whxt-to-write @90spumkin @idocarealot @moonstarrnghtsky @thelovelyrose @closetedreidstan @averyhotchner @tripleyeeet @rainsong01 @multifandomegan @no-honey-no @bauhousewife @shadybagelsludgecolor @idiotinnit @elldell1204 @gublersbooblers @calm-and-doctor @shadyladyperfection @homoose @wheelsup @writingintheroses @reidingmelodies @spenxerslut @imdefinitelyfloating @spacedikut @spencerreid9 @sweetandsunny @cynbx

[obviouslygenuinely]

Babygate Analysis/Conclusions: A Non-Larry Perspective

(Image Credit: Hollywood Life)

I'm prefacing this post with a few disclaimers:

After some consideration, I chose to write this without factoring in Larry whatsoever. No Larry-related points, proof, or speculation in any way. This is solely analyzing babygate from an unbiased perspective. 

I don't claim to know the entire truth. It is impossible for any of us to know.  What I conclude is based on direct evidence, circumstantial evidence, research, and analysis.

I am willing to discuss opposing views. I’m happy to talk about the topic in a civil, kind, and mature matter. I will dismiss any discourse that is aggressive, immature, and so on.

I did not include every single opinion/conclusion/piece of evidence I found. I condensed my thoughts as much as possible (and this is still a novel-length post). There are so many more points I can think of. However, babygate masterposts cover all of that; I’ll link to some of those at the end.

The conclusion points aren't in a very specific order. I aimed to list related points one after another. Aside from that, it's not in order of "hardest to weakest" evidence.

Please read “Author’s Notes” for additional clarity/input. They interject thoughts/etc. that I feel are necessary to include. 

Lastly, I included links to every source I cited in this post. However, I did not tag the Tumblr users. I’m not sure if they are comfortable with having Babygate questions/comments directed to their blogs. If you are a linked source and want to be tagged, please let me know! 

My Initial Reaction To Babygate

In February of 2020, I received several messages on LateToLarry requesting that I analyze something called “babygate”. I had no idea what babygate meant at the time. 

I learned what it meant, and prior to any research I felt the theory was so absurd. I also felt uncomfortable analyzing it because I believed I’d feel bias as a single mom. The idea of discussing a random child in depth initially bothered me, too. I declined to analyze it last year.

However, I did a LOT of research over time. My opinion has changed significantly. Below, I’ve shared my main conclusions and analysis about babygate. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy my post! 

1. No Paternity Test Was Performed Prior To The Pregnancy Announcement

Louis was/is a prominent celebrity and has a current net worth of $70 million. From legal, financial, and practical standpoints, it makes no sense for him to choose not to get a test. 

It’s unheard of in Hollywood and the entertainment industry. Any sensible team -lawyers, PR reps, managers, advisors, etc. - would not just go along with it. They are employed to protect his career and image. 

The Opposing Views

A. “Briana/Louis didn’t want to risk miscarriage with prenatal testing.”

Non-invasive testing is completely safe for fetuses and pregnant women, so there’s no medical reason for the lack of testing.

B. “Louis chose not to get the test done because he wanted to be a father and was invested in the pregnancy/parenting.”

Time has shown that this is not true. Louis does not have custody; there was a brief custody case in 2016 that led nowhere. He does not have a consistent or prominent role in the child’s life.

Conclusion

There is no logical reason for the lack of paternity testing prior to the announcement unless Louis knew he was not the father and all parties knew this to be true.

2. There Was No Confirmation Of A Paternity Test After The Birth

I’ll keep this section fairly short. A quick Google search returns dozens of conflicting reports. Many of them state that Louis demanded a paternity test shortly after birth. Other reports state that he has never pursued a paternity test. 

Here are a few examples:

“Louis Tomlinson not interested in paternity test” - Business Standard

“EXCLUSIVE: Louis Tomlinson Demanded a DNA Test “As Soon as the Baby Was Born”” - InTouch Weekly

“Louis Tomlinson: No DNA Test Needed ... Positive Freddie's His Son” -TMZ

“Louis Tomlinson & Briana Jungwirth: WhyHe Had DNA Test Done on His Newborn Son” - Hollywood Life

This Twitter thread discusses TMZ reports that - as of 2020 - no DNA test was done.

Conclusion

There is no reliable confirmation that Louis pursued a paternity test. The media cannot come to a general/factual consensus.

Again, there is no reasonable explanation for the lack of paternity testing unless Louis knows he is not the father of the child. 

3. The Conception-To-Birth Timeline Is Inconsistent/Unreliable

Pregnancy and conception as a whole can be rather confusing; timelines from conception to birth are unique to each person. Having said that, Briana’s timeline is full of glaring inconsistencies that don’t add up. 

I’ll begin with this timeline based on bulletprooflarry’s post and my own research. Dates I’ve added myself include linked sources:

May 5th, 2015 - Louis and Briana were first seen together in public.

May 6th to May 31st, 2015 - Briana and her mom followed baby-related social medial accounts.

May 12th, 2015 - Louis and Briana were pictured together in public.

July 3rd, 2015 - Louis is seen with Briana’s brother in Hollywood.

July 14th, 2015 - The first pregnancy report is published.

August 4th, 2015 - Louis confirms pregnancy on GMA.

January 21st, 2016 - The child is reportedly born.

Based on the dates above, these are the possible dates/milestones for her pregnancy:

Scenario A - If conception occurred on May 5th, Briana was 37 weeks and 2 days pregnant on January 21st, 2016. This is considered an early-term birth and about 26% of births occur at 37 weeks.

Scenario B - If conception occurred on May 12th, Briana was 36 weeks and 2 days pregnant on January 21st. This is considered a late-term or late premature birth and about 10% of births occur at 36 weeks.

These dates matter because Briana’s alleged hospital stay was not consistent with a premature or early-term birth. She was pictured in public - healthy and holding a baby carrier - within one week of giving birth. 

(Image Credit: Daily Mail)

(Image Credit: larrysbbrbb28)

If she gave birth based on the dates above, it’s extremely unlikely that she or the baby would be out in public so soon.

Below are screenshots of an additional timeline from an archived Tumblr post. It provides excellent points about more timeline inconsistencies: 

The main inconsistencies and red flags are bolded in the post. It supports the unreliable conception timeline, and it also mentions my next point - the official pregnancy announcement. 

The post above mentions that the Jungwirth family followed baby-related accounts before Briana could possibly know she was pregnant. Here’s one screenshot from skepticallarrie proving it:

I’ve also seen several posts that show inconsistencies with the size of Briana’s baby bump. Unfortunately, the most reliable post no longer exists. You can view a web archive of Briana’s pregnancy photos, but most of the image links are broke. 

The only post I have saved is a web archive of a long babygate post. The beginning of the post contains photos showing discrepancies in the size of Briana’s baby bump. 

The Opposing Views

“Pregnancy looks different on everybody, everyone recovers differently, etc.”

Yes, this is true and a valid point! As a woman who has gone through multiple pregnancies and two live births, I truly understand this argument. 

However, the sheer amount of inconsistencies are what make this a red flag. There are too many unreliable and contradicting points to brush this off. It goes beyond the point of “well, each person has a different experience”.

Conclusion

There are a few conclusions/scenarios I believe you can draw from the information above:

Briana was pregnant prior to meeting Louis.

Briana was never pregnant in the first place. 

Both are valid to consider, but I personally believe she was never pregnant. 

(Author’s note: My calculation for dates are based on the date of alleged conception. Most due date calculators, by default, use the date of a woman’s last mentrual period - LMP - to provide estimations.

I also used Date Duration Calendar for my calculations. Accessible due date calculators only allowed me to input dates from 2019/2020. Depending on the tools and dates you use, your mileage may vary.)

4. The Announcement Itself Was Highly Unusual

This point ties into the first and third points. I don’t consider it a major piece of evidence, but it’s noteworthy due to the other points. 

So, there are a few reasons why the Good Morning America announcement stands out. 

A. If Briana got pregnant on May 5th, then she was approximately 10 weeks pregnant when the first pregnancy report was published. This also means she was approximately 13 weeks pregnant at the time of the GMA announcement.

If Briana got pregnant on May 12th, she was approximately nine weeks pregnant at the time of the first report and approximately 12 weeks pregnant at the time of the GMA announcement.

B. The public announcement on Good Morning America raises a lot of questions. I’ve had multiple issues embedding the video; the bolded link takes you to the GMA announcement on YouTube. 

Anyways, these questions/thoughts - disregarding any Larry theories -  come to mind when watching the video: 

This is a segment for promoting/discussing their album/music.

The baby announcement is the sole non-album/music related topic that is mentioned during the segment.

The announcement is not organically worked into the segment as a natural talking point.

Louis’ reactions - such as bringing the microphone to his lips and not talking - is very unlike his standard interview demeanor.

The male interviewer and the band members have noticeable facial expressions and body language that suggest discomfort, stress, or awkwardness. 

A post by skepticalarrie draws similar conclusions. Her post is much more detailed than mine, and I highly recommend reading/viewing it. 

(Author’s Note: I’ve touched upon this on LateToLarry and will make a post here eventually, but body language and facial expressions are valid. They’re valid to the point that they are used in court cases.) 

Conclusion

My conclusions here are twofold. One is that: 

Announcing a pregnancy - especially a celebrity-related pregnancy - this early is extremely uncommon and unlikely.

The announcement itself seems out of place and very forced. 

This particular point, to me, is not extremely strong evidence. I still think it’s worth keeping in mind and is relevant to other points here. So, I’ve included it either way.

5. Briana Posted Stolen Pregnancy/Baby Photos On Social Media

(EDIT: I wrote this piece before the recent release of Briana’s alleged ultrasound and don’t have time to add it. It’s pretty strong proof and can easily be found in recent babygate posts.)

Babygate posts often point out that Briana and the Jungwirth family used stolen/fake pregnancy and baby photos on social media. It’s a well-known topic that’s often discussed. 

I’m condensing this section to a few examples. I encourage additional research if you’d like to see more. 

A. This Tumblr post shows stolen baby bump photos that Briana’s cousin Ashley posted on Twitter: 

B. This Tumblr post and Twitter post show a stolen baby photo that Briana posted on Instagram:

(Author’s Note: Since I was not active in the fandom at the time, I am relying on information from other blogs and social media posts. I vetted my sources pretty well, but any false information is my own mistake.)

Conclusions

The only word that sums this up is “suspicious”. Using stolen photos of a pregnant woman/baby is not necessary if you are legitimately pregnant. That’s really what it boils down to. It lends to the conclusion that Briana was never pregnant. 

6. Photos And Videos Of The Child Are Heavily Altered And Manipulated

It is indisputable that many photos and videos of the child are heavily manipulated to alter his appearance. This goes beyond filters, lighting, and angles. 

Several detailed posts show the manipulations; here are some examples:

A web archive of all Photoshop evidence from tellmethisisnotlove

An in-depth post from genuineconspiracy that includes detailed photo evidence.

A video post from freefreddiereign that shows Photoshop evidence based on photos the child. 

There is no doubt that his facial features are frequently altered. This is easy to conclude using any free software that detects Photoshop. As a photographer myself, I can easily spot the manipulations.

(Author’s Note: I know that directly discussing the child is controversial. When I first heard of babygate, my initial reaction was discomfort about analyzing a child.

I quickly learned/concluded that his family members are responsible for heavily putting him in the public eye. All content I’ve used for research is based on the family’s posts.

Still, I have personally chosen not post pictures of the child, but the links I am sharing contain photos/videos of him.

Additionally, I used FotoForensics on photos of myself prior to writing this. It was important to me to feel absolutely certain about this point. I’m fine with sharing my own FotoForensics images if anyone is curious.)

The Opposing Views

A. “Freddie looks like Louis in pictures that aren’t Photoshopped.”

Parentage cannot be based on whether or not a child looks like his mother/father. I understand the viewpoint, but it’s simply not evidence. Additionally, thinking the child looks like Louis is a matter of opinion. 

There’s also the fact that appearance means nothing overall. Science backs up this statement very well. Examples and references:

“How can children from the same parents look so different?” by HowStuffWorks

“My Baby Looks Nothing Like Me: A Genetic Explanation” by FamilyEducation

Additionally, here is a personal anecdote. I have two sons close to Freddie’s age. One of them looks exactly like his father and nothing like me. The other looks exactly like me and nothing like his father. Despite how they look, they are both of them are our biological children. 

Conclusion

There is no reasonable explanation for altering the child’s appearance - particularly to make him look more similar to Louis. 

I cannot think of a single argument as to why the Jungwirth family would do this unless they need/want the child to look a specific way. 

7. Johannah Deakin’s Official Obituary Does Not Mention The Child

When looking into babygate, I read the argument that the child is legitimately Louis’ son because he is listed as her grandchild in Internet-based obituaries and announcements. 

I also read the counter-argument that Louis’ mother’s official newspaper/print obituary does not mention the child.  I recall seeing proof, but I did not save it at the time. I did some research and this appears to be true. 

The Doncaster Free Press is a local weekly newspaper in Doncaster, and it published an article about the funeral. The article is NOT an obituary itself, but it does list her obituary details. The publication does not list the child among the surviving family members. 

If a mistake is made regarding these details, it’s typical for newspapers to post a correction addressing a misprint. Upon further research, the Doncaster Free Press did not issue a correction at any time. 

(Author’s Note: I lost my own mother and am personally familiar with how local obituaries are written. Immediate family members - i.e. spouses and adult children - provide information regarding surviving family members.) 

Conclusion

The conclusion here is straightforward. Louis and his family chose not to include the child in his mother’s official obituary. This strongly suggests that he is not legitimately related to Louis. 

My Opinion-Based Conclusions

Update: After some consideration, I am saving my opinion-based conclusions for a separate post. I originally intended to include them here; transparency is important to me.

Unfortunately, the section became rather long and took away from the main post points. So, I’ll be working on a post that’s just my opinion-based conclusions. In the meantime, feel free to message me with any questions. 

Final Thoughts

If you’ve made it this far, thank you for taking the time to read my post! I appreciate the interest expressed for it, and I hope it lives up to expectations. 

Again, I want to reiterate this is:

Not an all-inclusive post; I narrowed down my findings to seven points.

Not a masterpost on babygate.

Purposely omitting any potential Larry-related points to remove bias. 

I’ve reread this quite a few times, and it’s as error-free as possible. If you spot any mistakes/errors, I’m completely open to making corrections. Just kindly let me know. 

This list contains references/research about babygate that I consider the most reliable. It includes Larry and non-Larry related Babygate content.

Tumblr posts tagged with babygate by Tumblr use genuineconspiracy.

A web archive of babygate posts by Tumblr user tellmethisisnotlove (her account was deactivated by staff).

Tumblr posts tagged with babygate by darkrainbowlouis.

Tumblr posts tagged with babygate by skepticalarrie.

Lastly, if there’s interest in an opinion-related post or Larry-related post, I’ll consider writing them. Feel free to let me know as you all did with this post. 

Thanks!

Amy (obviouslygenuinely/latetolarry)