#couldn’t tell if I wanted to add this to the previous post or make its own post but trying to add it to prev post didn’t work so I’m taking

[lazlolemur]

Ended up coloring the sketch to distress ^^

[scoonsalicious]

Unwanted: Chapter 23, Undressed - Pt. 4

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, alcohol consumption, bad decisions.

Word Count: 291

Previously On...: Sam was on the phone with Bucky when you got back to the safehouse. Just hearing his voice (and Cunthrage's, for good measure) was too much and you needed to get out.

A/N: I'm sorry these parts are so short, but that's why you're getting three in a row! Just remember-- the faster I post, the faster it's over!

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when new story parts drop, please follow @scoonsaliciousupdates

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917!

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

Taglist: (Sadly, tag list is closed; Tumblr will not let me add anyone new. If you want to be notified when I update, please Follow me for Notifications!) @jmeelee @cazellen @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @blackhawkfanatic @buckybarnessimpp @hayjat @capswife @itsteambarnes @marygoddessofmischief @sebastians-love @learisa @lethallyprotected @rabbitrabbit12321 @buckybarnesandmarvel @fanfictiongirl77 @calwitch @fantasyfootballchampion @selella @jackiehollanderr @wintercrows @sashaisready @missvelvetsstuff @angelbabyyy99 @keylimebeag @maybefoxysouls @vicmc624 @j23r23 @wintercrows @crist1216 @cjand10 @pattiemac1@les-sel @dottirose @winterslove1917 @harperkenobi @ivet4 @casey1-2007 @mrsevans90 @steeph-aniie @bean-bean2000 @beanbagbitch @peachiestevie @wintrsoldrluvr @shadowzena43

Tumblr will not let me directly tag the following: @marcswife21 @erelierraceala @jupiter-107 @doublejeon @hiqhkey @unaxv @brookeleclerc

You were nursing your fourth Malibu and pineapple, more than a little drunk. The beachside bar was loud, a touristy spot, and if you weren’t halfway to plastered, you’d probably find its faux-tropical theme charming. Your brief quasi-interaction with Bucky was leaving you feeling restless and reckless, and you felt the urge to make some bad decisions.

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing in a bar all alone?” asked Bad Decision as he walked over to you. You looked him over. He was attractive, in a generic All-American kind of way, with shaggy brown hair and blue eyes. Not the crisp ocean blue that haunted your dreams, but close enough that you pretend in your inebriated state.

“I’m sorry,” Bad Decision said after you’d been silent for a moment too long. “It’s a horrible pick up line. Could you, maybe, pretend to write your number down on a napkin so my friends” he pointed behind his shoulder to a table “don’t roast me for failing miserably?”

You looked behind him to see a group of guys watching the interaction with intense interest.

“How old are you?” you asked him.

“Twenty one,” he said proudly, as though surviving this long was an accomplishment. “My buddies and I are here on break from UOhio.”

You raised an eyebrow. “I’m from Dayton,” you told him.

“No shit!” he said, and he was overly delighted, like a chocolate labrador waiting for a ball to be thrown. “Small world, huh?”

“Sure,” you said, scrutinizing his physique. He was muscular, but not in the way you wanted. But he would do. “Tell me, UOhio,” you began, throwing back the rest of your drink, “do you want my fake number, or do you want a quick fuck?”

<- Previous Part / Next Part ->

[minleeeknow]

track five - ‘greedy’ ft. lee know

‘pairing’ - 이민호 (lee minho) x fem!makeup artist

‘genre’ - fluff, angst, frenemies to lovers??

‘tw’ - angst, 14+, light swearing, hurting, comfort, fluff at the end

‘word count’ - 0.6 k

‘to get tagged’ - pls reply to the taglist post, this post or just ask me

‘lee’s notes’ - lowercase intended, not proofread, yn is korean (its easier for me to write), it’s okay to cry

pls note, reblog, anything &lt;3

~

‘previous track’ > ‘next track’

‘masterlist’

~

“jagiya–” minho’s voice murmurs softly in your ears, his strong arms wrapping around your waist. you hiccup, stifling a sob, pulling your hood down further, covering your face.

lee know wipes away the tears from your cheeks and takes off your hood. “hey, look at me.” his low voice calms you. minho looks into your eyes, his brown eyes filled with concern.

“what happened, yn?” he asks, taking your hands and rubbing them gently with the palm of his hand.

“it’s stupid,” you mumble. minho raises a brow. “so what, you called me, you’re crying, and you don’t want to tell me anything,” he remarks wryly. 

you feel a flicker of energy and say hesitantly, “can you buy me a taro milk tea? please?”

minho snorts and gives you a look. “you’re so lucky you’re cute,” he sighs as he gets up. you flash him a weak smile and a heart and see him flush and look away.

when he comes back he’s holding an iced taro drink and coffee. he hands you yours but before he lets you take it, minho says, “no! we’re going in the car and you’re going to tell me what happened without spilling your drink or tears.”

“that was a one time thing!” you protest, wiping salty tears from your eyes and you obediently follow lee know out. 

as you sit in the passenger seat of his car, you brace yourself for a full-on interrogation, but it doesn’t come. instead minho just sits there, quietly sipping his coffee.

“it was because of these girls,” you blurt out suddenly. you feel heat rise up to your cheeks as lee know casts his eyes on you. you swear he’s silently judging you and all chance of being with him has flown out the window. like yesterday.

“they were saying that i didn’t deserve you, that i was ugly, that you looked better with them, that–” you ramble, not pausing to filter your words. “they said that they couldn’t believe how you could love someone like me, someone who’s freaking desperately in love with you but to scared to admit it–” you clamp your mouth shut. “shit.”

“oh?” minho’s eyes fly open but he somehow manages to keep a straight face. you sink farther into your seat, totally most definitely embarrassed. 

“mmf,” you mumble, burying your face into your hands. you pretend to be sad again, not even going to try to peek through your fingers. you can feel lee know’s intense gaze and shiver involuntarily.

“so freaking desperately in love,” minho muses coolly, echoing your words. “so you love me, huh?”

“stop trying to make it worse,” you complain into your palms, pouting. “it’s not like it’s ever going to happen,” you add, trying to talk yourself out of it. “i’m not pretty anyway. i just exist and happen to know you.” you almost laugh when you feel tears sting your eyes again.

“shut up,” minho mutters and pulls your hands away from your face to kiss you. the kiss is softer and gentler than any other time he’s kissed you.

“minho–” you mumble into his lips, unable to pull away while your brain is screaming minho minho minho MINHO MINHO MINHO. he’s intoxicating and you can’t stop your mind from thinking about how soft his lips are.

“so are you going to be my girlfriend, yn?” minho asks smugly, running a hand through his hair.

“so mean,” you shoot back. “you’re soooo pretty and then you ask if i can be your girlfriend?” you sigh dramatically.

“well?”

“minho! what do you think?”

~

‘perm taglist’

@goldenjupiterz @adestayskz @piercidh34rts @imsiriuslyreal networks ! @/k-labels

[weepinglilvessel]

-Based on a previous ask

If you're taking suggestions for other names for eclipse au iterators, i was thinking sliver of straw could be sliver of stars. Stars and constellations / etc tend to be very important to religions and their surrounding mythology which i think works well with slivers 'mysterious' vibe and also their lore as it is right now. (That we, the viewers know, anyway.)

Additionally, unparalleled innocence could easily be tied to the 'daytime' version of the sky (so the opposite of sliver of stars, since the stars only appear at night.) In the daytime, the skys got clouds and like poets singing its praises for being pure and clear or dark and stormy and 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘳𝘺. Could also give innocence a wilder temper because of this?? Could also jab at their canon actions and repaint that in an interesting new way.

I also just did a quick google of the name ino, because innocence could be shortened to ino, and the name relates to both poseidon thalass, and galini. Thalass and galini represent sea and calmness respectively, which could further tie into either the sky and its wild ways. Poseidon is..poseidon.

It would follow the current theme of (character) vs (character), even if only by personality and not conflict between the two specifically. Though a conflict would be neat 👁

Also making sliver of straw sliver of stars would make her partners with Moon Moon considering yk,, moon and stars,,,,, which would also relate back to the mentor-ship between the two. The stars surround the moon, and are also far, 𝘧𝘢𝘳 older and more experienced than the moon could ever hope to be.

Also the visual idea of the stars falling and dying and leaving the moon alone in the night sky is so. So. Hfjdhshsgggz

-no sleep anon

Also im so sorry this is so LONG i just really like space themed things 👉👈 i dont know of sliver has a eclipse name yet but idk stars are neat. I dont know if i shouldve broken this into two or something so um, sorry if this really floods your ask box

AHEM anyways,

To get this out of the way, I won’t be talking about UI in this post specifically just yet because I’m still working on how she will contribute to this Au more. BUT I will keep her idea in mind.

SLIVER ON THE OTHER HAND WOOO!! Sliver of Stars, I’m liking that quite a bit! I thought about her design and thought I would change it up just a little to match the name a bit. Of course her personality I gave her still stays, but I did adjust the colors.

A lot more purples and reds, cream colors and dark colors stayed, and sparkles of course. I was gonna make her more blue because of the dark blue night sky, but I also wanted to keep some of her reddish tones in like the original. So I went with a sunset/sunrise type thing, but dark enough that you can still see stars.

Then we have the constellation. I was searching up a star constellation the was more on the mysterious side and found the scorpion one. It fit kinda well tbh. Blindfold with X stayed, but I did get rid of most of the X’s in the other design. I might add a few more back in but I’ll decide that much later.

Now here is my little thinky process for Lunar Moon and Sliver:

Moon was like Pebbs at the time. Curious of her older iterators intentions/ways of thinking (this was during the time Moon was just built). Sliver taking note of this and allowed Moon to hang around her for quite some time, telling Moon things that she couldn’t comprehend at the time and giving advice if needed. Moon looked up to Sliver a lot and followed in almost every single step she took. That was until Sliver died unknowingly, leaving Moon with questions to be forever unanswered.

Spiraling into her even more aggressive attitude and snarky behavior as an unhealthy way of coping (you can thank another anon for this idea)

How tf did I get here, this was about designing and I started rambling COUGH

Anyways, don’t worry about the ask being long, I don’t mind. Besides, this was a really cool idea and I appreciate it, so thank you❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎

(Wrote this at 2am we sleep deprived together XD)

[rotworld]

7: Metamorphosis

(previous)

the girl goes home. you visit an old friend.

->sexually suggestive. contains mild gore, ear penetration, terato, mentions of drugging, mentions of child trafficking and child abuse.

.

.

.

The last leg of the journey is always a thing of wonder. You unfold your crumpled, egg-stained map and marvel at the neatness of the reality, the momentary certainty of things. This is the understanding you carved out in a corner of the world. This is how far you’ve come. The Drift is mercurial. It won’t last. These cities will have scattered again, these roads you thought you knew winding in strange, new ways. But for now, for just a moment, you bask in a sense of wearied accomplishment. You are still here, despite everything. 

There were tears this morning. Albie drew a map of his own depicting his family’s corner of Verlinda, landmarks painstakingly rendered in colored pencils scribbles and labeled with shaky letters. A little cottage in the forest, surrounded by trees, bordered by a stream and many smiling animals, is labeled “MY HOUSE.” He wanted to make sure the girl would be able to find her way back someday. She has it on her lap, neatly folded, clutched in her small hands. 

“It’s close,” you tell her. 

She watches the scenery with rapt attention, memorizing every detail. “Close,” she agrees, glancing at you in surprise. “How know?” 

“See the dirt? It’s kind of a reddish color. And that spicy-sweet smell is from the mulberry gardens.” The sign is just over the hill, exactly as you remember it; a metal slab suspended between old wooden posts, bearing elegant lettering and a curling ribbon design. “Welcome to Compass Hill,” it says, and your heart beats faster in recognition, anticipation and dread. “I grew up here,” you add softly. 

[NOW PLAYING ON THE RADIO: HOW YOU REMEMBER BY AZURE RAY]

Roads into Compass Hill are long, decorated promenades of flattened cobblestone and stately scenery. Here is the visitor’s center, glass-paneled and flower-filled like a Victorian greenhouse. There is a lakeside sculpture garden with abstract figures and lanterns dotting the winding footpath. In the distance, the city’s crown jewel, a sprawling campus of red brick cathedrals—the head office and processing factory of Compass Hill Textiles.

“This used to be an awful place,” you say. “Someone might tell you the story later. Not to scare you, but because you should know. People would bring children of the road here because the company would pay them for it.”

You slow as you drive past the textiles building. They’ve kept it maintained, you notice, maybe to avoid suspicion. The lawn is trimmed, the hedges bordering the path up to the front steps neatly manicured. There’s a water fountain with an angel perched on top. The plaque set into the stone commemorates an ancient patriarch of the Dewitt family, a name emblazoned all over town. It was the Dewitts who built the mill, after all, a dynasty of textile magnates made wealthy by the harvest and refinement of exquisite silks. 

You point to the factory. “I used to live there. It looks nice from outside, but most of the space is for machinery. Rows and rows of rattling, whirring things that took up whole rooms. The kids who couldn’t weave slept in the cramped, overheated basement, right under all the noise. Eventually, we’d get our license and start delivering silk.” The girl studies the building with a small frown. “It’s different now,” you assure her. “The factory’s closed. Nobody has to sleep on a concrete floor anymore.”

There’s a gate just beyond the factory. Curling wrought iron arches form symmetrical shapes where they meet, an insectoid body with large, sweeping wings. You can hear something just faintly; a buzzing hum. A faraway melody. The gates pull apart with a loud metallic clattering, welcoming you inside. In your rearview mirror, you see a large shape on the roof of the old textile factory. It crouches, spreads its wings, and flits away. The girl sits up sharply, startled and curious. 

“Probably went to tell everyone we’re here,” you say.

“Everyone?” she asks. Something catches her eye and she turns back towards the window, her eyes widening.

“Everyone. You’re home.” 

Beyond the gate is the true, new Compass Hill, built on the bones of the old. Structures are soft and rounded rather than angular, wispy, cloud-like material woven across the city skyline. Gossamer threads sparkle in dazzling neon shades and subdued earth tones alike. The schoolhouse is a powdery blue dome with rocks and flowers woven around the entrance, while the open air marketplace is adorned with rippling canopy shades and decorative arches. Everything is silk as only Compass Hill knows it, exquisite color and unbelievably versatile texture. 

But the girl isn’t looking at the buildings. She’s looking at the people. Peering through honeycomb windows and ambling into the street, a crowd gathers, curiously chittering, all around your car. You stop in the middle of the road to let them see her, and for her to see them. Scaled skin and shimmering carapaces, wings and claws and softly clicking mandibles, bristle-thin hairs and thick, curly manes. The people of Compass Hill are as varied as the silk they spin. A child with slender vespid wings and gangly, striped arms comes right up to the window and the girl stares back at her with tears filling her four eyes. 

“Home!” she wails. “Home! Home!” You unlock the door and she tumbles into the waiting arms of family she has only dreamed of. A woman, pale pink and violet with a mantis’ tapered abdomen and sharp, hooked fingers, gently works the knots from the girl’s hair. The hum rises, louder now, a gentle, rolling melody of a thousand voices harmonizing. It’s the Song, welcoming you both. When you step out of the car, you’re swarmed with gentle touches and fond nuzzling. 

“You’re back.”  There’s a pleased purring beside your ear as four soft, lightly furred arms encircle you from behind. You recognize her quiet, higher-pitched notes before you see her. Chiffon is one of the oldest weavers in Compass Hill, her great wings as thick and heavy as a blanket. She slips in front of you, taking each of your hands in hers, the other two free to cup your face. Her four eyes arch in worry. “Where have you been? And where are you going?” 

“I’ll have to show you my map. It’s been a long trip,” you say. Chiffon chitters with laughter, a sound echoed all the way down the street as she passes the joke through the Song. “And I don’t know where I’m going yet. I was in a hurry to get here before the next shift.” 

“Your hand…” She’s gentle with it, fingers worrying the skin all around your bandages. “I’ll have a look at this later. You’ll stay the night. Rest. He’ll be so happy to see you.” Your smile wanes. Chiffon squeezes your hands, reassuring but also pleading. “Please,” she sings softer. “Please go see him.”

You hear a delighted warble, the melody rising. The girl looks startled, clutching a wad of fresh, glistening silk in her hand, small string still connected to her mouth. The color is like a sunrise, a blue ombre glinting with strands of gold. One of the old weavers bends down and shows her how to braid it, tying off the ends so it doesn’t fray. “That’s hopesilk,” he says, pausing his singing so she can understand him. “Very strong, and very pretty. Someone believes in you very much.” 

You wipe at your eyes and nod at Chiffon. The crowd parts for the two of you as a slow, undulating note enters the Song, a bittersweet melody. They’ve missed you. They wish you’d stay. 

The Dewitt estate is at the very edge of town. Similar grand manors and luxurious homes dot the hills but the others are old, fallen into disrepair. The fences have crumbled, the stately brickwork has eroded, and mulberry branches snake out of the broken windows. They are Verlinda’s by right but remain, dilapidated and unoccupied, out of respect for the children of Compass Hill and everything they have endured.

It is only the Dewitt estate, all the way at the top of the hill, that is still maintained. Someone cuts the grass and trims the hedges. Someone fixes the roof when it leaks. Someone leaves food at the door. As you get closer, you hear a piercing scream from somewhere inside. “How is he?” you ask. 

Chiffon feels your worry. She chirps a Song of one, fluttering and bird-like. “He’s…better, I think. He spends less and less time here.” She stops when you reach the front porch of the manor. Her wings are drooping, the larger ones folded around her like a shawl. “But he’s still…well. It’s rather shocking inside.” 

You march up the steps before you can lose your nerve. There’s another scream—fearful, but also furious. You thought it was just mindless shrieking before but now you can make out words, “wretched” and “ungrateful” and “horrible, abominable thing.” The door is cracked open. The foyer is a mess of broken glass and overturned furniture, old blood stains crusted into the carpet and stuck to the wallpaper. A silver platter has been flung against the wall, shattering a plate and splattering mashed potatoes and a chunk of cooked meat. 

There is a man standing in the middle of the foyer, chest heaving and red in the face, screaming at something in the corner. You recognize Mr. Dewitt. He looks more sickly than you recall, sweat shining on his gaunt face. You’ve caught him in the middle of a tirade not unlike the ones you remember from childhood. He was always short-tempered, liable to fly into a rage at the slightest inconvenience. “I want to see my son! You can’t keep him from me! Just you wait, just you wait until they hear about this down at the factory!”

He whirls around at the sound of your footsteps and his wide, bloodshot eyes brighten. “Oh! Oh, it’s you!” he calls, grinning deliriously. His eyes are hazy and he’s not quite looking at you. He wobbles forward, looking inebriated. “You’ve come at the perfect time! I need to get a message down to the factory. Good practice for a courier, hm? Some incompetent let one of the weavers cocoon itself and now we’re stuck with this.” He gestures to the corner, the thing looming there silently. “It’s making demands. Can you tell them to send someone?” 

You hesitate just a second too long and he’s screaming again, berating you, calling you a stupid, useless road-mongrel. The thing in the corner lunges forward then, faster than you can see it move. There’s a rush of air and a flash of movement. It lands heavily on top of the man, slamming his head into the floor. It’s your friend, the boy who grew up in this awful place with you. Older now, much bigger, casting a wide shadow with his wings outstretched. You see him tangle his claws in the man’s thinning hair, yanking his head higher. You see him lean in, proboscis unfurling. 

“Hello,” he sings. Four eyes peer at you beneath stark white fringe. In adulthood, the silver ones have also turned deep, inky black. “Hello again. I was just thinking of you.”

His proboscis plunges forward like a needle and there’s a sickening crunch and a spurt of blood as it pierces Dewitt’s ear. He shakes and flails uncontrollably, mouth stretched open in a horrified, silent scream, but your friend holds him still; one hand on his head, one on his shoulder, the others easily keeping him pinned beneath the weight of his enormous body. Your friend, the Singer of Compass Hill, vibrates with a welcoming melody, his wings flapping in contentment. His proboscis goes taut and there’s a sick, slurping sound, another gush of blood dribbling down Dewitt’s face and neck.

“Why…is he…?” You swallow your revulsion. The Singer tilts his head slightly, the change in angle churning and squishing wetly against something in Dewitt’s head. The vibration of the song drones just louder than the gurgling screams Dewitt makes.

“He’s drugged. Not certain where or when he is. It’s the same thing he used to give me and all the others.” The Singer’s primary eyes are focused on feeding, but the smaller secondary ones rotate, fixed on you. “You don’t feel bad for him, do you?”

“I’m worried about you.” 

The Singer drops Dewitt, proboscis yanking loose with a wet, ripping sound and slithering back into his mouth. He came out of his cocoon differently than all the others. No one else has emerged quite so large. His frilled antenna scrape the high ceiling, his legs bend strangely, and he has six long arms. A ring of thick, white fur circles his neck and drapes over his shoulders. There’s similar patches of fuzz all the way down his body, thinning out across his belly and limbs. His fingers are long and dexterous, warm when they reach out and graze your cheek. 

His eyes have changed the least. There are mandibles on either side of his jaw, pearl-white and flexible, a proboscis curled up inside his mouth, but you’ll always recognize his eyes, no matter the color. 

“Is he dead?” you say quietly, staring at the body lying limp and face-down on the carpet. 

“No. I won’t let him die yet.” The Singer takes your hand in three of his. He turns it over, letting out a low hum in concern at the sight of bandages, the missing finger. “I’ll keep him here, just like I was kept. Except he has the luxury of a house when all I had was that cramped cell in the mountage wing of the factory, a bedroom shaped like a coffin. I’ll use him as he used me, without remorse. He can die when I have nothing to gain from him anymore.” 

You tug on his arm, pulling him down to kneel in front of you, and embrace him. The Singer rests his chin and mandibles on your shoulders. His hands all knead the front of your shirt, just like when he was a boy. “I came here to complete a delivery,” you admit. “It’s a child. This is her home.” 

The Singer hums appreciatively, nuzzling against your neck. “Yes. Good. I heard the Song. She’ll be safe here. She’ll decide what to do with her own silk. No one will keep her from cocooning and growing up.” His proboscis darts out, tasting the sweat on your throat. “Hope…savory. She grazed on this. You fed her well. There’s more hope here, as much as she could ever want.”

You rub his mandibles and he purrs. “You can have some, if you want. Hope, and whatever else I have.” You feel the vibration of the Song gone slow and deep with interest. He flicks one of his mandibles against your lips, tempted. “You have to eat something other than grudges,” you say gently. 

“I can’t stomach much else. But…” He crouches further, pulling you into his lap. You’re settled on one of his thighs, half-turned away from him. He brushes your hair out of the way and caresses the shell of your ear, stroking the lobe with his thumb. “I’ll go very slow. Very gentle. It’s been a long time.” 

Now that you’re actually here, clutching the fur on his upper chest, your stomach is flipping nervously. He’s right, it has been a long time. You haven’t fed him since you were both younger, shortly after the change came—he, young and clumsy and still figuring out his new, enormous body, and you, just old enough to drive the Drift. One more time, you’d agreed, before you left town. He couldn’t make silk anymore but it didn’t matter. He just needed to remember how you tasted.

“Hold onto me,” he sings gently. “It’s alright. Hold on tight. You won’t hurt me.” You don’t want to pull on his fur but he pushes your hands more firmly against his chest, encouraging you to dig your fingers in. He clutches your shoulders, your waist, your hips—his grip firm but not bruising. He tries to relax you. He nuzzles against you, splays his mandibles and leaves little kisses along your chin and cheek. His proboscis darts out and flicks against your lips, teasing. He trails higher, following the curve of your jaw. 

Your breath hitches when he reaches your ear. He kisses it. His proboscis traces the shell, explores its shallow dips and grooves. Slowly, he lick his way closer to the hole and you let out an involuntary shiver. His hands squeeze all at once in reassurance and hold you still.

“Will you give me something sweet? Something light and airy?” One of the hands on your hip moves inward. Long, graceful fingers slip into your pants and settle on your heated sex. He traces one fingertip slowly up and down, faint and featherlight. Your hips chase the friction. That’s the moment he’s waiting for. You feel his proboscis, cold and smooth, slip easily into your ear canal. 

True to his word, he’s slow and gentle. The penetration is a gradual slide, navigating impossibly small spaces to lap at something not entirely physical, nestled at the intersection of thought, feeling and memory. You feel it like the wet slide of a tongue against some place sensitive and you stiffen, eyes rolling back in your head. It’s too much—too much something. Not quite pain or pleasure, not quite anything you can name. But it’s too much. Explosive heat and sandpaper on your nerves, an avalanche of overstimulation. 

The hand between your legs barely moves. It’s just two fingers, slender and nimble, rubbing so, so slowly. Up and down. Up and down. Your underwear is damp with your own want and he collects it on his fingertips, uses it to lubricate his steady rhythm. He strokes you right to the edge of madness, crooning softly. You feel the Song behind your eyes, in your brain. You feel all the love it carries.

Your hips jolt and your flinch violently in his grasp. You gasp, or maybe you scream. Your throat is raw when you drift back down into awareness, feeling his proboscis snaking back out and exit with a faint, wet pop. Soothing liquid dribbles out of your ear in his wake, something to numb soreness. You sag against him and catch your breath. He trills, smoothing his palms up and down your body. The hand between your legs comes out of your clothes glistening and sticky.

“What was it?” you asked. Your words are slurred, your tongue still clumsy. “Wh—what’d you taste?” 

He wipes the excess fluid from your chin, pressing one last kiss to your ear. It’s starting to tingle. “Nostalgia. Exhaustion. Hope. And…” He pauses, turning your face towards him. “You’ve been having nightmares.”

He lets you avoid the subject and bury your face in his fur. He Sings, swaying gently. You shut your eyes and left your mind drift. Tomorrow, you’ll be leaving. Maybe you can deliver silk, just like the old days—but this silk will be better than Dewitt’s ever was. Made by children who are happy, woven by adults who care about them. Tomorrow, you and the girl will have to say your goodbyes, and you know she’ll ask you about home because she’s kind. And you will smile and lie or maybe say nothing at all, happy for her but stinging with agonizing envy. 

“You could stay,” goes the Song, every time you hear it. “Make this home.”

You don’t answer. You never do. The Singer holds you while he still has the chance.

(next)

[somthing-lavender]

Evan the victim (C.C rewrite part 1)

So 6 people voted that they wanted to see my fnaf au/rewrite/my own personal interpretation of the characters, so here I go. Instead of going with my original plan of explaining Will or Mike, I’m doing Evan cause I feel like it.

Nothing is set in stone. This is just an overview of the current state of the story.

Tw Talks of child abuse

Part 2 (will add link when I post it)

Born July 23rd, 1976

Evan was always a quiet kid, and always sorta forgotten. He never fought back and kept his thoughts to himself. Surprisingly, he was quite the sassy child in his mind. But no one but his; mother, brother, sister, and imaginary friend knew. He was also very unfortunate as he always witnessed the worst things, which people may not even realize he was there.

Late at night, when he woke up from nightmares, he would go and find his mother. He was always closer to his mother. His father was always at work and didn’t pay Evan much mind when he was around. Some nights instead of finding his mother in her bed, he caught his parents arguing. Or more of his father shouting at his mother. And one morning she was gone. Micheal said at night she took her stuff and just headed out the door.

After this it was up to the 13 year old Micheal to take care of his siblings' needs. He usually just made sure his siblings were fed and told them to get lost. He would drop them off at Fredbear quite a bit too, and hoped adults there would do something if his siblings got hurt.

One night Evan caught his father physically abusing Mike. The previous cycle of catching his 2 caretakers fighting late at night continued, just slightly different now.

This led Evan to be terrified of his father. If he was willing to do that to Micheal, what is he willing to do to Evan? He was terrified of anyone in a springlock costume as there was always a chance it was Will. Even the character of Spring Bonnie scared him due to the association. People thought it was the animatronics themselves he found scary.

His brother started taking out his frustration onto Evan, bullying Evan by scaring him and locking him into rooms. So that was one more family member to be scared off. He ended up just crying always, as he’s always in a nightmare he couldn’t escape.

His family wasn’t all bad. Mike was decent, even caring, at times, and there was always Elizabeth. She was one of his few, if not only, friends and helped keep him company. She would never believe what he told her about their father, or make excuses. She and Fredbear were the only ones who knew why Evan was really scared of Fredbears, but even she found it silly.

Fredbear was the only one who understood. Understood his thoughts no matter how bad he was at wording them. No matter how illogical his worries were. (Note in my au, the irl Fredbear was just a normal plush + an imaginary friend. No spying plush theory).

His father eventually realized Evan knew the situation with Mike. He would tell Evan “I'm doing it for you. He hates you anyway.”

On his 7th birthday, July 23rd 1983, his brother played a prank on him where his head was shoved into Fredbear. He was helpless once again. He could do nothing but cry. His tears got onto the sprinklocks, causing the whole custom to shut into place.

Shut its mouth close.

Last thing Evan heard was an apology and promise.

[furrylibrarian]

Pokemon Hot Take:

HMs were a cool idea and their removal has directly harmed the overall gamefeel of newer titles.

I understand that for most folks it’s annoying to carry around a dedicated HM ‘mon or sacrifice precious move slots on their strong teammates.

But I think having the Pokemon you’ve caught and trained help you explore the world and open up new paths is so cool, and it emphasizes the ideas that (1) Pokemon are not just fighting machines, and (2) Pokemon help people experience the world in ways they couldn’t before.

It also makes it so progression gates can be more naturalistic and believable. This might just be me, but a path being blocked by rocks I need to smash is way less intrusive and obnoxious than an NPC standing directly in front of the city gates telling me to do the plot thing.

And there’s layers to getting HM access! It isn’t just strictly main story progress! An HM might be in an out-of-the-way dungeon that you can clear out at the first opportunity, or later when you feel more prepared. There’s anticipation to be built by separating when an HM becomes available and when its corresponding badge is won.

Furthermore, HMs force players to expand their Pokemon roster at least a little bit, and to think about which Pokemon to bring into a given area (Who knows the right HM, who can afford to miss some EXP, and who can I afford to bench for now?).

Assist Pokemon as we’ve seen since Gen 7 don’t scratch nearly the same itch. They’re functionally no different than a key item, since they’re unlocked solely through story progress and your own collection/active team of Pokemon has no impact on your access to field skills. Miraidon and Koraidon are an improvement, since they’re part of your team from the start and their upgrades must be actively sought out. I like them, and they work well for S/V’s open-world design. But I think I’d like them less in a game structured more like previous generations.

Again, I understand and respect the stance that HMs are bad because they’re often useless in battle and people don’t want to compromise their team’s overall capability. I have an idea for a modernized take on HMs, but I’ll hold it off for another post, since this one’s already pretty hefty.

TL;DR: HMs are cool because they enhance the general themes of the series and because they add more choices to teambuilding.

[frogfacey]

I hate to be like. That Guy who rolls up like heyy are you the Frogfacey of Tma band au from 2020(?) entitled Bizarre Love Triangle fame. I went back to look for the fic bc I wanted to do some fanart but couldn’t find it and was like. Oh Dear. Its one of if not my favorite fic of all time & I guess this is all to ask if 1) you’d accept fanart or it and 2) if there’s any way to get an archive or pdf copy? I adore it and miss it so dearly </3

And if you aren’t that same author I am apologizing profusely I hope you have a nice day / night and disregard this completely

rest of ask -> (*got the year totally off base. 2022 I believe :’) again i am so sorry about this whole deal, I hope you’re doing well regardless and if it is in fact your writing you’re insanely skilled + I adore the way you characterized everyone in it! Tma goths in an awful little band is in fact the best way for things to go.

Also I am happy to message off anon to talk about this I just didn’t want to like. Throw my full weight at potentially the wrong person so to speak </3)

OMG yeah hi thats me! I deleted it lichrally just bc I haven't felt like writing in a whole like two years and it was making me have unkind feelings towards mine previous writing and I felt bad about having a perpetually unfinished fic sitting on the 'net when I had a whole planning document dedicated to it lol (said document says that it was conceived of in 2021 but idk if thats when I posted it). As of lichrally three seconds after I've finished writing this sentence its been put back up! :^D also I started relistening to the magnus archives a few weeks ago so I'm probs going to continue writing it I can like tell u the rest of the plot outline if u want. ripley frogfacey the magnus archives throuple fanfic lore

also yeasyeas I shall cry u may make fanart! I'm still very fond of it I have some of my own doodles relating to it somewhere that I might add to the fic upon reupload. watch this space and all. As a sidenote my hashtag fandom related sideblog is @podgemod which I am presently not that active on but that may change.

[arshipweek]

AR Ship Week - Fanwork Recs in 2023

This is the second weekly post in the lead up to Alex Rider Ship Week.  Only 3 weeks to go!

This week we’ve got a selection of shippy fanwork recs submitted by members of the fandom, two years after our previous rec post in 2021.

**Please note that I haven’t listed all the details for the fics so take care to read the tags on AO3 before diving in!

Yassen/Alex

An Uncivil Contract by fredbasset Yassen and Alex are very well written in this period fic. The plot twist is great. I can’t get enough of it. 

There's Something About The Way You Are by countessrivers Very intense, twistedly hot and excellent writing. Alex's rather unusual turn ons feel spot on and Yassen indulges him perfectly 

The Boyfriend by Suzie_Shooter  An interesting view on Yassen being Helen Rider’s boyfriend with a sprinkle of canon.

Lionceau by Too_Many_Rooks This is one of the fics that really got me in this fandom and made me want to stay, I'm a big fan of reverse verses and role reversals and this one hit all the right spots. The inherent madness to Alex's character adds a dash of adrenaline while reading and I cannot wait to get back to this fic when it isn't so fresh in my mind to rediscover it entirely!

Paying the Price by Suzie_Shooter Love this sequel. The dynamic between Yassen and Alex is beautifully written.

Pillars of Sand by Nanimok This one-shot of an aged-up Alex in university is both a unique and bittersweet one; he’s not completely in dire straits or sucked into a hopeless future, yet at the same time, he hasn’t escaped MI6’s grasp, either. I adore Kyra in this, mostly because we haven’t seen much of her in fics as a side character to Yalex driven stories, but also because there’s hints of her push and pull with Alex the way I’m highly anticipating Series 3 will. I love the touches of humor, but most of all, the Yalex! Yassen gentleness, the way he wants Alex to find peace in a way he never could, the way he actually tells Alex as much instead of keeping it to himself, closed off and private. The Yassen we get to see has communication open with Alex and it’s obvious they care for one another… and this tenderness amidst all of Alex’s internal struggle was such a breath of fresh air, for both me, the reader, and for Alex whose safe place at the end of the days lies in Yassen. Nanimok captures their dynamic in this AU brilliantly and somehow makes Yassen’s brief appearances feel so impactful; I can’t help but draw parallels between what we’re experiencing from Alex’s limited POV with Alex himself because that’s what the writing in this fic invokes for me.

Run With Me by Polarnacht Alex being afraid for Yassen is just perfect. Angry car sex is a bonus!

The Call of Blood by TheOtherBlue Very hot Vamp!Yassen AU with sensual blood drinking, a little danger and sexy times.

Don't Need A Gun by BoldAsBrass A very sensual seduction of Alex.

Stalking His Dreams by Rirren A great exploration of Alex dreaming/hallucinating about Yassen after season 1 and very hot. I love the blurring of reality and fantasy/dreams and the way it makes you wonder what really happened.

Estrov Tattoo Parlour by Too_Many_Rooks I love tattoo parlor AUs and damn does this one deliver. From Yassen's complex back story to Alex's tortured life in the present day, I couldn't get enough! Especially with the detail in Yassen's tattoo at the end, a must-read!

Duty Of Care by Suzie_Shooter Goodness, Suzie’s writing is always a bullseye straight into my heart. This Yalex fic plays a lot with Yassen and Alex’s dynamic, especially in its exploration of one of my favorite tropes/conflicts for this fandom: Alex’s incredibly complex feelings about Yassen the assassin and having to come to terms with what that truly means. The way Alex ultimately chooses to lie to MI6, the large part he plays in awkwardly accompanying Yassen’s recovery from injury, the sugary sweetness of Alex’s concern conveyed through the get-well-gift-basket even though he’s no clue the first thing Yassen does or doesn’t like. On our assassin’s end, I absolutely adore the rare and arguably one in a blue moon injured/whumped!Yassen, bloodied and battered. He’s so not okay and I’m quite fond of seeing Alex as the caretaker and more competent one of the dynamic, albeit temporarily. We love to seen tens of hundreds of iterations of the two of them meeting for the first time since Yassen’s [fanfic] survival of Eagle Strike and how that conversation might go—in this fic, it was succinct, honest, and apologetic, and an extra kudos from me about Alex sounding quite amenable to the potential of working together with Yassen! There’s Suzie’s usual beats of humor weaved in between the banter that always makes the dialogue between the two amusing and highly enjoyable, and a plot that somehow makes your stomach twist and turn like a rollercoaster or as I like to think: it’s always fun to try to guess where things are going and even more fun to see Suzie’s execution of the amalgamation of action, common loved themes such as Alex feeling unmoored since Ian’s death, the most evocative emotion, and a unique flavor of Yalex that you can check out in all her other works!!

Safe Houses by fredbassett An incredibly funny series of Alex corrupting Yassen's safe houses and his heart. Their chemistry throughout each single fic is off the charts.

Perform Under Pressure by Polarnacht A great one-shot of Alex being so fixated with Yassen, his stare is enough to get him through a very usual performance. 

Striking the Chords and Blowing the Flute by countessrivers This fic is very, very hot, with some great dubious consent and power imbalance. 

Wintermute by wewillalwaysenduphere I absolutely love cyberpunk romances and the film noir aspect to this fic makes it even better. The author's sense of detail with the setting and attributes of each character, coupled with the mysterious past of both Yassen and Alex is excellent, chef's kiss!

Quietly into the Night by loony_lucifer (LoonyLucifer) This is an older fic, but very, very good. A fourteen-year-old Alex is forced to join Yassen and the criminal he's helping to escape on a road trip. There's some great tension as Alex at times doesn't seem to realise the nature of the danger he's in and fascinating Yassen/Alex scenes.

Lonesome Pines by Suzie_Shooter I like the Christmas rom-com / thriller vibe to the story, it was both very dreary plot-wise and gleeful trope-wise with the bodies coming up and Yalex bickering about it, something I look forward to reading again next Christmas!

The Fictitious Fiancée Affair by Suzie_Shooter An amazing take of fake dating with a bit of Angst, great plot and many feelings - and the ending Yassen and Alex deserve.

A pathway into his very soul by Myulalie Amazing Siberia and royal sex, that’s all you need to know.  

The Full Boyfriend Experience by BoldAsBrass Yassen captures Alex and wants him to be his boyfriend. This fic is incredibly hot and also hilarious, with some lovely descriptions and very witty dialogue.

Blowing in the wind by kelkblr Great mission fic, very immersive with a possessive Yassen and a happy ending.

To The Sea by Suzie_Shooter A wonderful roadtrip of healing and finding each other among the jumbled up pieces of their lives.

pebbles in a stream by ireliss A beautiful tragedy of misunderstandings and missed connections.

The Art of Drowning by kelkblr This is very dark but I love the older and tired versions of Yassen and Alex in here, both traumatised by their lives and finding some kind of understanding in each other.

Smut it up before September ends by Myulalie Excellent collection of short smutty one shots.

The Well of Silence by Polarnacht A great exploration of sensory deprivation trope, very sensual and warm, with just a bit of despair and humor.

Target Practice by RavenJames A beautiful, bittersweet fic with a very grey Yassen and a sexually charged atmosphere between Yassen and Alex. 

Fake It Till You Make It by Polarnacht The title pretty much sums it all up - Alex and Yassen are made to act as boyfriends until they realize the pretense isn’t in the picture anymore.

The Final Mission by OctarineTheColorofMagic Great fic about betrayal and finding a safe heaven in an unlikely place or rather with an unlikely person.

True Love's Kiss by Polarnacht An amazing one-shot of Yassen finding a way to make Alex hold on and survive by true love’s kiss.

Dancing by Polarnacht A perfect series to get sucked into Alex and Yassen story.

Other

A Matter of Time by Polarnacht This fic has such a fascinating premise, with Yassen returning to the past and being offered his past self for the night... Includes both hot sex and some great Yassen character study. Yassen/Yasha

The Darkest Places in Hell by fredbasset Dark but not between the pairings with a lot of comfort. I enjoyed the relationships between all of them, Tom/Alex, Yassen & Alex & Tom and the hints of Yassen/OC were amazing, the OC is very fleshed out and intriguing. Tom/Alex

Only Once in Paris by Zombieheroine Really wonderful thoughtful fic that explores Yassen's relationship with sex really interestingly. John/Yassen

under observation by galaxylentil The fic does a lot with a small number of words, and really fleshes out the clone's characterisation. I love the little cameo by Julius at the end. Sasha/Alex

[waters-and-the-wilde]

HEY @kyliebyelie I had a weird couplea weeks but I did say I would yell about Nureyev and Vespa some more so *launches enrichment pumpkins*

also OG post thread for anyone who wants context it was just getting a little unwieldy

First off! re: Nureyev still being willing to bet on the hope that Juno would still vouch for him – I’ve also been thinking about how he had to be willing to bet that it wouldn’t backfire on Juno. Like, ‘you have no idea how much I did to keep the Kanagawas off you’. The fact that tying Juno’s name to his own work could have very easily painted a target on him. Even if he couldn’t have known that Buddy and Jet were going to pull a ‘come with me if you want to live’, the fact that he put Juno on their radar suggests that he trusted Buddy to begin with. To not threaten Juno, or to use Juno to threaten Nureyev. Jet talks about how the criminal reputation informs a potential employer that their prospective is reliable, but it also must work in reverse – that a potential boss won’t screw you over.

re: Nureyev being a fan is something I think about A Normal Amount

You’ve absolutely nailed the whole vibe of their communication styles, the chain reaction of politeness/rudeness → perception of emotions and control → measurement of honesty → how that exacerbates the friction, like that is such a good breakdown goddamn.

to add to that since I am constantly frothing like the cappuccino about the concept of 'solid coping mechanisms that backfire in the wrong situations' so for your consideration: one of those pesky little first rules of thieving being 'don’t rise to the bait’. Oh it was intended for Being In Situations with weird rich people or standoffs with other criminals, but when it's his default setting for responding to things, it's just gonna just drive the wedge that much further every time Vespa questions his integrity and he doesn't show where he keeps his Give A Damn. (And it's probably even harder to untangle as a 'no that's for jobs not your personal life' thing when it still has its legitimate applications in his personal life, bc Juno’s own survival reflex MO is ‘how fast can I piss somebody off to find out what I need to know’ and that ability to stay focused and letting him know when that's uncalled for is probably extremely necessary for the both of them)

‘Vespa is terrifying’ – okay so funnily enough! i'd been telling @one-joe-spoopy (pssst hey come look I've got enrichment pumpkins!) about my headcanon of 'ranked order of members of the Carte Blanche crew by how much they scare him and why number one hands down goes to Rita,' which is a whole post in itself but long story short, I think out of everybody he gets the most sense of security around Vespa (though she probably still does terrify him, like, a normal amount and for the exact reasons you described, especially pre/during Man In Glass.)

Basically the concept I’ve been toying with (and I think moreso in a later, probably post-Cyberbots context given some time to settle in) is that her opinion of him is decided and earning her approval under the circumstances is What We Call A Non-Starter. When he's reflexively trying to manage everyone's expectations and invested in their approval, and realizes in no uncertain terms that he can't win Vespa over as long as the name thing is a going concern, the pressure’s off a bit there. Though not in the healthiest of ways, necessarily, if he’s just more comfortable with letting her believe what she wants about him because that’s how he usually deals with people.

And another aspect of this sense of security dovetails with your previous points about how Vespa and Juno are more reactive than performative, how they wear their principles on their sleeves and others recognize them as genuine. I bet Nureyev absolutely knows better than to make the comparison in her earshot, but I can see him just sorta unable to help liking her for the same reasons he’s drawn to Juno – he can brush off a little belligerence from someone whose integrity speaks for itself. Vespa abides by her own codes as well as visibly aligning herself with Buddy’s – she’s pissed about not knowing his name but won’t coerce it out of him even when the requisite leverage is right there – and like you said, she would be insulted by the idea of using underhanded means to get him fired. He knows where he stands and possibly figures that trying too hard to fix it is just going to piss her off further. And it's not like he's gonna stop being dramatic and making his gay little jokes and smooching Juno in the mess hall, he just needs to focus on comporting himself as a reliable crewmember and establishing himself the hard way with time and Buddy's family bonding activities (and yeag he wants to Get A Good Grade In Crewmate which is Normal To Want and Possible To Achieve).

oooh also I’m a little fucked up on the idea of him on bedrest with his broken leg and getting filled in on what he missed during Shadows, realizing that Vespa thinks he’s got it in for her right around the same time he’s having an epiphany that he trusts her to keep him alive and patched up even if she never likes him as a person and that the shapeshifting robot impostors don't stand a chance with her around. like not only is she not the thief she was twenty years ago, she's even tougher and smarter and cooler and doing it all with the brain horrors on top.

ALSO in light of Next Page I now think about ‘hey what if he’s Inherently Suspicious of Medical Personnel due to The Trauma and did he spend a bunch of his broken leg recovery time fretting that she was going to try to wring his name out of him while he was on painkillers only she never does??’ (god there’s this one fic where he and Juno get MacGuffined into kids and she’s like. ‘well shit. yeah I could find it out but goddamn. that’s a line I just can’t cross. Not Looking At It I Do Not See It’)

gah it's just. Nureyev's trust issues are so goddamn multifaceted, like. local baby boy too trusting, gets his only security ripped out from under him, tanks his shot at happiness bc the trauma gave him suspicion, becomes the suavest charlatan in the galaxy so he doesn't get taken advantage of again, craves genuine connection but hasn't actually had a chance in the last two decades to figure out what he's like around other people for any stretch of time, also still literally paying the price for the last time and can hardly bear the thought of confiding in his new connections because there's nowhere truly safe in the galaxy he's terrified of putting a target on them.

But I think about his little 'much more so than usual these days' to Juno's sarcastic 'happy now??' and that maybe he was a lot closer to an honest version of himself on the Carte Blanche. That he was getting places, that he was trusting them with as much as he could. something something 'Peter Ransom' wasn't intended for putting at least half the truth under their noses the whole time but he kinda let it turn into that the moment he let Buddy start calling him Pete.

Handful of miscellaneous thoughts on things they have in common:

- the debts thing. Vespa of all people is the most painfully, intimately aware of what it feels like to have a life that isn't one's own, so the way she approaches Nureyev being in massive scary debt with suspicion made me go huh. so I've been thinking about that one and tbh given how she internalizes shit and doesn't entirely trust herself (and god I have to imagine that she's really messed up about how close she came to killing Buddy in Time Gone By), I think seeing her situation in Nureyev's wouldn't engender sympathy because is that because she also knows exactly what she was prepared to do to get out from under it. and is just expected to tolerate the fact that they're taking their goddamn chances on him. there's this sense of 'even if he cares. even if he thinks this is real. even if he tells himself he wants to be a part of this. who's he gonna be when push comes to shove. probably not even Steel is safe.'

- They are both extremely functional under pressure and in more in their element in full on crisis mode, and are probably spending S3 figuring out what the hell to do now that they have access to things like reliable meals. privacy. affection. (pretty sure Juno is also experiencing a similar kind of 'things... getting better? after being. really bad all the time???' and having a lot of midmorning scuffles about it)

- Also they both have their shitty dads living in their brains rent-free!! and they are never ever going to talk about it but one (1) time Nureyev hears Vespa yell 'shut the hell up old man!' from another room and. sometimes thinks that very hard in her voice when Mag's advice is being unhelpful

re: feral kittens in towels - I want them to get into it that day after Heart of It All where Juno isn't getting out of bed and isn't there to get all protective, and for once she's in a half-decent place brainwise and he's riddled with eight kinds of guilt and half on the edge of a nervous breakdown and having all of his defenses shot is actually a good thing for him because she's not actually going to do anything with the upper hand except cuss him out a little bit. Like 'I was gonna cut your throat without hesitation yesterday and you're all fine and dandy about being in the wedding party? no shut up I'm not saying you can't. it's whatever. Bud thought it would be nice and I'm not against it. I am saying. the fuck is wrong with you.' hurt can sniff out hurt in-fucking-deed. I am dying inside like the fact that Nureyev himself would prevent any closure we might have gotten between him and the Lighthouse Crew after S4 is very him and also it hurts me and I need to pick it all apart with a seam ripper and see what spills out

likewise it’s hard to picture them ever reaching an actual rapport but I can’t even tell you how many times I pictured the prison break with all of them converging before Clean Break aired, where it’s like finally sunk in that he’s on their side and she goes ‘Ransom watch my goddamn back I need to kiss my wife’

also. does anybody want. some fic? I have some job interview/Man In Glass missing scenes where i am gnawing on this at all times

[all-chickens-are-trans]

It has come to my attention that some people in the Ted Lasso fandom are not aware of the importance of rainbow captain’s armbands in football, and I have too many emotions about those to not make a post. Keep in mind that I’m mostly familiar with the German Bundesliga and don’t know much about the Premier League, so if any people want to share more on that, feel free to add on to this post!

 Where it started

around two months ago, some of the cast and crew of Ted Lasso played a charity match (see here); actor Joe Street, who plays Paul Reynolds on the show, wore a rainbow captain’s armband. this, among other things, has led to some speculation that there will be a queer storyline in s3 (see here and here).

Why it matters

If you’ve followed the women’s Euro 2022 tournament recently (see here) or seen some pictures at least, and if you take the general culture of representation in media as an indicator, you might be led to believe that the rainbow armband doesn’t mean much - that it’s just a nice, but ultimately meaningless gesture of virtue signalling. And I wouldn’t even completely disagree with that. Most of the time, when players or teams give statements on the meaning of that rainbow armband, they describe it as a symbol against homo-/queerphobia in their sport - but most of them are pretty quick to add that it also symbolizes the fight against racism, sexism, discrimination based on religion, nationality, etc. The message gets watered down into a nice little message of ‘diversity’ and ‘equality’, often paired with the slogan “football is for everyone.” The rainbow in its original meaning for queer struggles and queer life is made into a non-threatening thing that’s supposed to be palpable for most people.

BUT --

But I’m begging everyone to look deeper, because there’s a reason for that. And the reason is - you could have guessed it - queerphobia in football. (I will now especially talk about men’s football because that’s what the show is about and it’s also my area of expertise. if you add women’s football into the conversation, you gain important insights, but this post is already going to be long enough, so maybe someone else will have to do that, either on this or another post.)

The reason the rainbow gets so watered down as a symbol in football is BECAUSE there’s still an unlimited amount of fear to be perceived or outed as gay/queer if you’re a professional male football player. Do you know how many active professional male footballers there are currently in the top leagues, worldwide? Two. Josh Cavallo came out in October 2021 in Australia (see here). Jake Daniels came out in May 2022 (see here) - he plays for Blackpool F.C. in the Championship League. Before Daniels, the only football player who came out during his career in the UK (and as far as I’m aware, in any major league anywhere) was Justin Fashanu in 1990. I will not link to articles or go into details, but please be aware if you google this, most articles will discuss racism, homophobia, sexual assault allegations and suicide. With a precedent like that, it took more than 30 years before any other active player dared to take that step. No matter how open-minded you think society has become over the last decades, you have to keep in mind that, despite all its claims towards the opposite, football is still one of the last safe spaces for both subtle and rampant homophobes.

Back to the rainbow armband

As far as I can tell, it was merely six years ago when the first rainbow armband appeared on a football pitch (see here) - in 2016, in the aftermath of the Pulse shooting, US-American team captain Michael Bradley wore one in a match against Ecuador. In Germany, it was especially the 2017/2018 and the 2018/19 seasons that popularized this as a regular practice for certain teams in the Bundesliga, starting with St. Pauli in 2017 (I couldn’t find an english source for this) and VfL Wolfsburg in 2018 (and initiated by their women’s team captain the previous season, see here). From there, it spread over to various other clubs like SC Freiburg, who announced in early 2021 that all team captains would wear the rainbow armband for all matches from now on (see here).

But just because this is becoming more common, doesn’t mean it’s losing it’s meaning. Just last year it became clear how very politically charged that symbol still is when German team captain Manuel Neuer wore a rainbow armband for several games in the men’s Euro 2020 (see here). The UEFA started a formal investigation against him because they prohibit ‘political symbols’ on the armband. Even though the investigation was dropped, the UEFA prohibited a request to light up Allianz Arena in rainbow colors just a few days later in the match against Hungary because it was seen as too politically charged in the current climate of queerphobic laws passed in Hungary at the time (see here). It remains an open question how the rainbow armband will be handled in the upcoming 2022 World Cup in Qatar where homosexuality is illegal. If rainbows are ruled as ‘too political’ against Hungary, who knows what the rules will be in Qatar.

And what does any of this have to do with Ted Lasso?

Frankly, I don’t know. I just made this post because the rainbow armband in the charity match got me very excited for the possibility of seeing Isaac McAdoo in one for s3. Could you imagine Isaac choosing that kind of gesture to show his support for Colin? (If that’s what’s going to happen - at this point, it’s all still speculation.) With that history, with that storyline, and with the way this show usually approaches such topics?? That feels immensely meaningful to me.

Thank you for coming to my Ted talk

[sizzlingpatrolfox]

It’s so difficult to imagine that you were a jikook shipper once? even though I’ve seen enough ex-jokers pjms😭 Kinda want to see you delusional era posts 💀

There are no delusional posts 🫡 all I talked about were moments that are out there for everyone to see and things they said, never tried to read between the lines or turn their words/actions into something else. Even while I still believed they were involved I used to say Jungkook was lacking as a partner, I would "debunk" moments and get annoyed at people's insane theories and numbers and all that.

Here are some posts tho if you're curious.

Okay there are more but tumblr won't let me add more links.

I just can't really call myself a jikooker because I no longer think they're together and their relationship is a friendship just as with everyone else in the group. I like minimoni or jihope as friends too and not for that I'm calling myself a jihoper (?

[missnight0wl]

Buckle up - there's a whole flood of datamined story chapters! Peregrine seems to be possessed, due to a cursed amulet. Don't know how to feel about all of this. I think I'd prefer for him to just have turned evil on his own, and not because of a cursed amulet. And Rakepick is nowhere to be seen during those chapters either. Sigh. And Merula took the crown from the sunken vault? There are so many unexplained issues. Coral key, Rakepick losing her pin... Curious what you make out of all of this!

First of all, sorry for the late reply!

Now, you might’ve seen this already, but I talked about the amulet already in this post, so I’m not gonna repeat myself. I just want to add that I agree with you, and I’d like it better if Peregrine turned evil “naturally”. I don’t know, the explanation with the cursed amulet simply feels lazy. Especially in its current form because JC is super sloppy about it. So, as a result, I feel like it doesn’t even explain much.

I also mentioned in the linked post that JC apparently ignores their previous plans for the story again. In one of the options in Azkaban, Rakepick can tell us that R wants to “save the world”, which suggests that R wants to execute Ryusaki’s original plan with traumatic memories. Yet it wasn’t even mentioned by Peregrine, so… I’m afraid it means we’d just have to accept that some things will not be explained at all. The Coral key is probably one of them. Rakepick losing her pin probably too… Although I had a random thought right now that maybe Peregrine used it to copy the pins for his members (I’m thinking here about these datamined models). I theorised in the past that Peregrine started using the Eye of Ra to further frame Rakepick, but I have to admit that I don’t have much hope for it anymore. I suppose it’s more likely that they decided to ruin this symbolism entirely.

There are a couple more things about the datamines you didn’t mention, but I want to address, but… I might make yet another separate post for that. But one thing you mentioned I do want to address is Merula taking the Crown from the Sunken Vault. Because… seriously? I mean, I was totally expecting that she did something in there, and I talked about it in my commentary post. But now it turns out that she simply drank some potion, so the curse in the Vault wouldn’t hurt her. And I have to ask:

Could the Sunken Vault be any lamer??

Like, JC already made it super lame. You just have to dive into the Black Lake and then you don’t even need any help because the Vault’s location was marked with the trident. Then, you have to blow up some rocks and fight Grindylows, but none of it is particularly difficult. And at last, you might get defeated by a pretty terrible curse, but you’re still not totally helpless in this situation because… there’s a potion to deal with it. A freaking potion.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure this potion was difficult to brew and whatnot. But… it just feels too simple. Couldn’t they at least say that Merula had to master Occlumency for that? Especially since there actually are hints about it in the plot (Merula seems to know a lot about Veritaserum, and it was even said in the game that Veritaserum can be used to learn Occlumency). Seriously, it’s so incredibly disappointing, in my opinion. But the Sunken Vault was quite disappointing in general, so I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.

And I think that’s it, at least for now! I’m sorry my reply is not more detailed, but as I said, the issue of Ryusaki’s amulet was already addressed separately. And I didn’t want to mix you there. On the other hand, the rest of the things on my mind is not really connected to what we talk about here. But if you’re curious about it, I hope you’ll stay tuned!

But anyway, I think the main conclusion we have to take from this is that… JC doesn’t really know what they’re doing anymore. It’s quite sad, but not surprising, I suppose.

Oh, and I'm also upset that Rakepick is not in the upcoming chapters :< I'd love to see her again, even if it'd be through more memories.

[shoppncarticles]

Every Binding of Isaac Boss: Part 2

Now we move on to the original game’s DLC, Wrath of the Lamb! This DLC added quite a bit to the game, such as many new, interesting items, alternate floor types, a new playable character, and most importantly, a decent picking of new bosses! So, let’s not waste any time and get into the new selection. If you haven’t read the last post on the base game’s bosses, I suggest you do that first.

The Seven Super Deadly Sins

The DLC adds a set of super-powered sins to make your descent into the unholy depths of Isaac’s basement that much more challenging, with each becoming a bit bigger and, usually, more grotesque. I like how Super Greed removes the subtlety he might’ve had previously and now bears a big dollar sign on his forehead, just in case you couldn’t tell how money-hungry he was before.

Pin

Pin is actually a weaker version of Scolex, one of the base game’s later bosses. Pin is another early game worm boss like Larry Jr., but instead burrows in and out of the ground, with an unchanging, unhappy expression. The poor thing really doesn’t want to be here right now, not helped by the fact that it might be the weakest of all the game’s bosses.

Widow

One of the DLC’s big changes was the introduction of various spider enemies to parallel the game’s previous selection of flies. While flies infest the Basement floors, spiders instead call the alternate Cellar floor their home. As such, an early game boss in Widow is provided to show off how bothersome the arachnids can be. I really like Widow’s design, since while it is spiderlike in shape, Widow’s body parts are clearly human in origin and make the whole thing seem a lot more unpleasant and vile in appearance. The upside-down head is definitely the best part, reminding me a lot of The Thing more than anything else.

The Blighted Ovum

Playing The Binding of Isaac for long enough will teach you a lot of medical terminology you likely wouldn’t have known about otherwise, such as with the Blighted Ovum here. This is Gemini’s posthumous counterpart, leaving the little sibling as a wispy spirit and the bigger sibling as a mostly flayed zombie. Death is anything but a deterrent for Isaac bosses though, since now the big sibling won’t ever get tired, and the little ghost now fires a giant blood laser if you ever cross its line of sight. Wild!

Gurdy Jr.

As if one Gurdy wasn’t enough, we also get a little Gurdy Jr. as well! Being far smaller than her original counterpart, Gurdy Jr. is fully mobile and can actually ricochet around the room at concerningly high speeds when given the chance. Those guts must be a lot slipperier than they look. This thing has to be scarier than any normal zombie would be, don’t you think? Imagine seeing a huge mass of internal organs sliding across the floor towards you at 40mph. One with a devious smile too, just to rub salt in the wound.

The Husk

The Caves’ alternate floor lies in the Catacombs, and there you can find the posthumous Duke of Flies. I like the exaggerated, hanging jaw of the Husk, it really conveys that this thing is dead proper compared to the still-living Duke of Flies. What’s more, the Husk is filled with spiders as well as the average flies, as if now that the Duke is dead nothing is preventing the flies from being hunted by other scavenging predators. 

The Hollow

Wrath of the Lamb sure loves its posthumous bosses, giving us another with the Hollow, the dead version of Larry Jr. Instead of traveling along a grid, the gnashing worms now move in diagonal patterns, and flies to boot, as if now ghostly apparitions of the previous worms. The thinner teeth are a nice touch too, it makes the Hollow feel a lot more monstrous and predatory in design.

The Carrion Queen

Despite being a maggot, posthumous Chub shows that the big larva has an internal skeletal system with human similarities. What’s worse, it seems to retain enough organs to defecate still, leaving nasty poop obstacles that hurt to touch and never permanently go away. That’s maybe the worst thing about it, that it just pollutes whatever room it has with disgusting fecal matter. Maybe the most atrocious boss by far, but in the way it was intended to be.

The Wretched

Wrath of the Lamb even gives a posthumous variant to its own Widow, now becoming the even more grotesque Wretched. It feels even closer to a Thing-infected monstrosity, bloated and pimply with a more accurate arachnid mouth below its eyes. Don’t be fooled, though, the Widow’s original mouth still lies above its eyes, and appears to be stitched up now. It still opens up on occasion to spew out a few spiders, though.

The Bloat

Well, look who it is! Everyone’s favorite, the Bloat! This pale, festering corpse of the urinating Peep now can only bleed everywhere it goes, and can even shoot tremendous blood lasers from its eyes at a moment’s notice, both directly in front of itself but also to either side at the same time. If that wasn’t enough, both eyes constantly bounce around the room invulnerably, as if the corpulent cretin wasn’t enough of a hassle to deal with. It’s definitely one of the more horrifying creatures in the game, a shambling mass with empty, bleeding eye sockets and pained, hanging jaw. You might even feel sorry for it if it wasn’t one of the most annoying bosses to fight in the game.

The Mask of Infamy

A giant, empty mask and heart combo, the mask continually chases Isaac with its giant, gaping expression of sorrow while the heart sticks back and attempts not to be hurt. What’s interesting though, is that the heart will get killed before the boss fight ends, and in doing so the mask instead turns to an enraged expression and cracks open in the back, revealing a peeking face hidden within. Weird!

Lokii

Loki was lucky enough to get a posthumous counterpart as well, featuring the little imp simply bisected down the middle. Now it’s a pair of mischievous twins who fight in tandem to make your day that much worse. I like that the two are separated by a clean cut down the middle, showing off the internal organs within, like an anatomical model. In practice, they don’t act much differently other than being two Lokis you have to fight, rather than one, but it’s the thought that counts, y’know?

Teratoma

Technically the posthumous version of Fistula, Teratoma is instead a grotesque coagulation of discolored half-formed flesh, teeth, and hair, named after rare, real internal growths that consist of much of the same things. What’s worse about the game’s Teratoma, though, is that instead of being filled with maggots like Fistula, it is instead infested with spiders. Very nasty, and it’s probably better to not think too hard about where those spiders might have come from and how they got inside the thing.

Daddy Long Legs

Another spider boss, only one who dangles down from the ceiling and occasionally stomps down with malformed, stretched humanoid limbs. The best part of Daddy Long Legs, though, is the lack of a bottom jaw. He looks really annoyed about it too, just look at that expression.

Conquest

A new Horseman was added to the game, and sometimes replaces Death when he ought to appear in the game. If you knew about the Horsemen’s origins you’d think Conquest would instead replace Pestilence sometimes, since it’s Pestilence who stole Conquest’s original position amongst the rest of the Horsemen of the Apocalypse in modern culture. Ah well, the blindfolded look is neat, and suits Conquest’s role as a more holy horseman alternative, summoning great light beams from the sky when he attacks.

Triachnid

Another referential boss, to another of Edmund McMillen’s games, of the same name. I like Triachnid a lot, and certainly does a good job of feeling the most accurately arachnid of any spider boss in the game, even more so than its original Daddy Long Legs. The huge, glassy eye and prominent fangs give it an intimidating appearance, as it ought to have. The perspective and lighting on the portrait is really nice too. Look at the lower lighting and harsh shadows. Very cool! Just a shame, though, that Triachnid lacks a scripted item drop like other alternate bosses. What gives?

Isaac

Upon trekking through the new Cathedral floor, players are meant with the end boss being… none other than Isaac himself. The game hasn’t exactly been subtle in the past about Isaac basically fighting his own inner demons during the game, but this is definitely the most direct representation. Isaac even grows angel wings and gains holy light beam attacks as the fight progresses, as if being cleansed and accepted into heaven thanks to the Cathedral’s purity, finally ascending once the fight ends. 

???

If you’re able to progress even further into the Chest, you can fight against ???, or Blue Baby, a representation of Isaac’s own corpse after suffocating in the toy box treasure chest he locks himself in during his fantasy escapism. The fight would then seem to be Isaac realizing, and maybe coming to terms with, how the escapism will lead to his inevitable demise, but I think there’s another fight added in the remake that gives the same message with a lot more spectacle. Blue Baby fights a lot like the Isaac boss did, only now can summon flies to assist him, being a rotting corpse and all. Incredible. He lacks a lot of the holy-themed attacks that Isaac had too, as if the whole ascension thing didn’t really work out. I guess that makes Blue Baby a posthumous version of Isaac actually, huh. I never thought about that until now.

Ultra Pride

Another version of the sin mini-bosses, but I had to save it until the end, since it’s a representation of none other than series creator Edmund McMillen himself, as well as a little baby partner reflecting the programmer of the original game, Florian Himsl. They don’t do a whole lot else that the regular sins don’t, but I still find it amusing that the creator himself is one of the enemies trying to actively kill you in-game. Now everyone can get back at Edmund for all the item balancing and nerfs he’s approved of.

That wraps up all of the original DLC’s additions to the boss roster. Next time I’ll talk about all of those added by the game’s remake, Rebirth. See you then!

[Isaac Archive]

[indigoh4ze]

use your words || t.n & d.m

warning- SMUT // face riding, blowjobs, mommy kink, d/s dynamic, a lot of praise, lmk what else

sub!draco x dom!theo x switch!fem!reader

a/n- i've never wrote for theo but this idea came to mind cuz i've been seeing alot of him sooo here it is! enjoy and send in some theo requests if you have any. also i tagged my draco taglist for now since i only just added theo

taglist | << add yourself to the theo taglist | turn on notifs on @slvt4fakerealities-library to be notified when i post

looking to your right, draco’s feet were draped over the arm of the couch, his head on your lap like your thighs were his own personal cushions.

theo, who sat on the left, was playing with the strings of his joggers mindlessly, and your head laid limp against his shoulder, fingers raking through the blond hair on your lap.

draco was beginning to get whiny, squirming as he turned to nose at your thighs, almost hitting your crotch- causing you to tense mildly and inhale sharply.

“dray, y’alright?” you questioned with a knowing gaze, coaxing him to look at you, which he did, though a pout was drawn onto his lips.

“wanna go t’bed, mommy,” theo now put his attention on draco, cocking his head and scanning his eyes over the boys state, a mess with glossy eyes and flushed cheeks.

you looked over at theo for permission, wasting no time in bringing draco to his feet with the gentle touch of your hand on his bicep. once you all made your way over to draco’s private dorm, theo guided the both of you to the unmade bed.

draco immediately found shelter by your side, nuzzling into your neck and leaving wet kisses along your jawline, pulling quiet and breathy moans from your throat.

“how about you tell mommy what you want, dray, use your words like a good boy,” theo gently purred, now squatted in front of draco, two hands placed soundly on the boys knees, the pad of his thumb soothing circles.

draco seemed to hesitate, awfully flushed in this headspace, distracted by the intense whirling in his core. “w-wanna feel good,” he mumbled, though he was nudging so close to you that his words came out muffled.

it took theos strong grip on his jaw to steer him away from you, and you placed a hand on his thigh to relax his nerves. “c’mon now, be a good boy and then we can help you, alright?”

nodding, draco slowly parted his lips, “want you to touch me, please?”

“with what, baby?” now it was your turn to question, and draco looked up at you, gulping.

“dunno, mommy.”

but it was evident he did know, because he looked down and bit his lip, feeling even more nervous as all the eye were on him.

so you ran tender fingers through his hair and placed a kiss on his cheek, bringing him to lay back. the boy followed without question, then scrambled to meet your requests of discarding his shirt.

theo stood, doing the same and then moving onto his buckle, the metal clacking together and filling both you and draco with suspense of what’s to come.

“doll, wanna be a good girl and get on your knees?” theo insisted, and you practically fell to the floor, urgently doing as he asked, in return gaining a proud smile from the boy.

the brunet walked over, stroking a piece of hair behind your ears and then looking back at draco, who was sat up on his elbows and awaiting attention. “dray, how about you ask nicely, and y/n/n will make you feel really good?”

“p-please, wanna feel your mouth around my cock, waited all day f’you, please?” draco hastily blurted, a glimmer of lust molded into his gray eyes.

“good boy,” with the praise, draco’s heart swelled, and theo leaned down, tilting the boys chin up and placing a lingering kiss on his lips. draco melted into the kiss, desperately using his tongue and making theo grin slightly into the kiss before moving away.

you were simply watching from your knees, a pout constructing its way onto your lips at the lack of attention. as if reading your mind, theo spoke, “go on, bunny, suck him off like a good girl and then i’ll make that little ache in your tummy go away, how does that sound?” his soft spoken words and vibrant visage had you nodding eagerly. as a reward for your obedience, theo mirrored his previous actions, leaving a kiss on your lips and pecking them once more for extra effect.

theo aides draco in taking off his undergarments, and now it was your turn to comply to theos requests, signaling draco to move closer to the edge of the bed so you could get the perfect angle of his cock from your kneeled position. he was gripping the silk sheets with a strong hand, watching the way you took his cock in your hand and began to set a rhythm around it. your simple actions drew soft whimpers from the boy, and theo watched from where he was leaning against the wall, cock straining against the material of his boxers.

“does that feel good, dray?” you inquired, and draco nodded quickly.

“words, dray,” theo reminded the boy from the side.

“y-yeah, feels really g-good mommy,” his sentence ended with a yelp as you brought the tip of his cock between your lips, the warm muscle stroking it before fully submerging it inside the warmth of your mouth.

draco released a lewd moan, and in the corner of your eye you saw the licentious smirk drawn on theos lips, which had your cunt throbbing through your panties even more. the boy in front of you had his eyes closed, though he couldn’t keep them shut for long as he wanted to watch how well you took him.

pre-cum dribbled from his tip, and you gagged lightly around him as theo padded over to assist you - holding back your hair in a makeshift pony tail and guiding your head so his cock slid gingerly through your swollen lips. a few bucks of his hips was all it took for him to become a moaning mess, whines spilling freely off his tongue with less shame, eyes unable to keep off the sight of theos lips attaching themselves to the flesh behind your ear every now and then.

soon, draco was emptying inside your mouth, cock driving into you one last time before he dissolved into pleasure. you dragged the climax out as long as you could before gasping for air, licking your lips and lulling your tongue out for theo to show him you swallowed everything.

theo gave you a pleased smile and an affectionate kiss on your temple before standing to sit by draco. “feelin’ better?” theo queried with a lopsided grin.

“much,” draco nodded, kissing theos cheek and then looking down at you. “thank you, mommy.”

“of course, love,” you were standing now, giving the silver haired boy a kiss and then looking at theo expectantly.

“i want you to ride my face now, angel, sound good?”

“yes please.” you said with eager eyes.

“good,” theo breathily chuckled, “and draco, you’re gonna be a good boy and suck me off, yeah?”

once draco had responded with just as much eagerness- enthusiastic at any chance to pleasure his boyfriend- it had begun.

theo’s on his back, your flimsy panties discarded along with your shirt, and draco between theos legs and in front of his now exposed cock. slight hesitation came over you before you managed to maneuver yourself above theo’s face. the heat of his breath fanned against your cunt and you shivered from that alone, non stop blood rushing through your body.

finally, theo’s lips connected with your folds, already soaked from your arousal. his tongue worked deliciously against them, opening your lips and gaining access to your bundle of nerves, suctioning the nub with fervor. draco began his ministrations on theo’s cock, which had the brunet groaning into your pussy.

moans were pouring out of your mouth, fingers intertwining with the strings of hair at theo’s scalp, your free hand gripping the top of the bed frame as you slightly rolled your hips against his mouth. draco was speeding up, which meant theo was gaining more and more pleasure, resulting in you shivering from the stimulation.

“fuck— theo, right there!” you gasped as his tongue flicked the perfect spot repeatedly, swirling and sucking as wet noises echoed throughout the room, along with other sounds of groans and moans.

lifting your hips from theo’s grasp for a second, the boy peered up at you through half lidded eyes, rosy cheeks and disheveled hair making your thighs quiver. “c’mon, love, ‘m not finished tasting your sweet pussy,” he rasped, digging his fingertips into the fat of your ass before pulling you back towards him, this time not letting you escape his clutch.

theo’s tongue worked rapidly against your cunt, eventually sheathing it into your fluttering walls, and drawing a lewd whimper from the pit of your chest, “i’m coming— theo fuck, fuck please,” you were begging and blabbering as arousal dripped from your cunt and smeared itself around theo’s mouth. your orgasm took over, your body going limp as you held onto the headboard firmly and threw your head back in ecstasy.

just as you did so, draco swirled his skillful tongue around theo’s length, taking all of him and getting theo to his peak. his moans into your overworked cunt were heaven and hell, sensitivity and pleasure swirling within you as you panted above him.

eventually removing your cunt from his mouth, you sat on his bare stomach, soaking the outline of his abs with your slick, your lips puffy and achy against him.

draco lift his head up, kissing your hip from behind and then sitting up fully. theo released a sigh before sitting up, grabbing your by your underarms and pulling you down into a sloppy kiss- the taste of your juices still on his tongue- then settled you onto his chest. he outstretched an arm for draco to join- the boy crawling towards you and snuggling close to theo’s chest as well, your faces turned towards eachother.

you looked up at theo, dotting a kiss near his chin and doing the same to draco’s forehead, then settling back onto the boys comforting warmth and allowing your eyes to flutter shut from exhaustion. the last thought that went through your head before sleep fully overtook you was,

i’ll worry about the mess later.

@arcaneslut @ayaosk @kollirium @marrymetheonott @pbnjami @malfoysbiitch @shabeebaby @scentedtimemachinesheep @spaceconstellationss @fleursbabe @malfoyxxdraco23 @desiredmalfoy @fredshufflepuff @littlemissnoname13 @whaddyam3an @abigailmalfoy @cherylm @malfoybws @trashyvicks @sw33tgirl @malfoyswhxre @dracomalfoys-wh0re @dracomalfoyisminez @justaplainfangirl @narcissacore @bby-gxrnet @honky-karl @houseofhufflepuff @fredandgeorgeweasleywhore @lunar0se10 @yumicloudshp @wh0re4blaise @bella-lxhp @4kweasley @riddleswh0r3crux @sapphicprinc3ss @dracomalfoyswifeee @dawnmalfoy @1800-shutup @petitfruitmarocains @emma67 @drxsbvttrbr @jdrlia @turn-to-page-394-please @spencervera @savagelysarcasticslytherin @sluttylea @dlmmdl @blowing-mikey @methblinds @draysslytherclaw @silverdelirium @etherealdm @Imtryingbutithurts @Jbus3888 @dracomalfoysfavoritewhore @oliv-005 @alyxa07 @dracosbaibe @justasmolballofstress @mrsmalfoy @louweasleymalfoy @microwavedhampster

[pet-genius]

A complex and many-layered thing

But Harry’s anger at Snape continued to pound through his veins like venom. Let go of his anger? He could as easily detach his legs. . . .

This is the first Occlumency lesson. Harry is right, of course. Feelings don’t go away because you want them to. To let go of them when they’ve not been addressed or validated can be as hard as detaching a leg. And yet, it’s what Dumbledore asked Snape to do, and it’s what Snape had to do to survive the first war as Dumbledore’s spy. You have to ask yourself… how?

Trapped animals chew off their own legs to escape. It’s a sacrifice they make to survive.

If there’s one thing in a fic that turns me off it, it’s the idea that Occlumency shields are a thing, that Severus was so gifted at it because he’s got some power like Second Sight or being a metamorphagus. I always preferred to think of Occlumency and Legilimency as skills that can be learned, even if some have more aptitude for it than others.

Severus entered Hogwarts with the kind of life experience that primed him for developing these skills, and left it with even more. Occlumency is magical dissociation, a post-traumatic coping mechanism, and Severus has C/PTSD. More under the cut; tw: just general angst.

To survive, he would have had to develop a knack for telling how explosive and unpredictable people feel. Over his life, he faced at least two egregious examples of what Pete Walker, author of “Complex PTSD” calls “the Charming Bully”.

Especially devolved fight types can become sociopathic. Sociopathy can range along a continuum that stretches from corrupt politician to vicious criminal. A particularly nasty sociopath, who I call the charming bully, probably falls somewhere around the middle of this continuum. The charming bully behaves in a friendly manner some of the time. He can even occasionally listen and be helpful in small amounts, but he still uses his contempt to overpower and control others. This type typically relies on scapegoats for the dumping of his vitriol. These unfortunate scapegoats are typically weaker than him. […] He generally spares his favorites from this behavior, unless they get out of line. If the charming bully is charismatic enough, those close to him will often fail to register the unconscionable meanness of his scapegoating. The bully’s favorites often slip into denial, relieved that they are not the target. Especially charismatic bullies may even be admired and seen as great.

These would be James Potter and Tom Riddle, who are distantly related, I might add. Harry inherited the tendency to default to the fight response, but since he grew up the scapegoat and not the golden child, he never becomes quite as appalling, and after all, a fight response is normal when they are after you. Even so, Harry, who has both James and Voldemort inside him, triggers Severus to no end. It’s not a coincidence that the memories Harry sees when he is with him are largely horrible, and vice versa. There had to be happy or at least neutral or even boring moments, but these two detest each other, and they know they detest each other. Negative emotions and associated memories are so close to the surface they can’t be contained. This is the purpose of the Pensieve in this context - to contain the emotions. Since Severus knew what was in there when he pulled Harry out, my theory is that you don’t suddenly forget the memories you placed there, but rather you make them less fraught with emotions.

“Get up!” said Snape sharply. “Get up! You are not trying, you are making no effort, you are allowing me access to memories you fear, handing me weapons!”

Harry stood up again, his heart thumping wildly as though he had really just seen Cedric dead in the graveyard. Snape looked paler than usual, and angrier, though not nearly as angry as Harry was. “I — am — making — an — effort,” he said through clenched teeth.

“I told you to empty yourself of emotion!”

“Yeah? Well, I’m finding that hard at the moment,” Harry snarled.

“Then you will find yourself easy prey for the Dark Lord!” said Snape savagely. “Fools who wear their hearts proudly on their sleeves, who cannot control their emotions, who wallow in sad memories and allow themselves to be provoked this easily — weak people, in other words — they stand no chance against his powers! He will penetrate your mind with absurd ease, Potter!”

A lot to unpack here.

“Memories you fear,” “weapons”, “easy prey”.

Fearing your own memories, viewing your own lived experiences as weapons to be used against you, being easy prey… Severus could not be speaking louder of himself here. He is the one whose mind had been penetrated with absurd ease, he is the one who handed weapons to Voldemort, and he is the one who had to do the psychological equivalent of detaching his own leg – again and again – to survive.

I’ll argue that Severus developed a fawn response and a flight response, as fighting had never really worked out for him if it was possible at all. He had at least two more people I’d describe as bullies in his life, Tobias and Lucius.

Again from Pete Walker:

These [fawn] response patterns are so deeply set in the psyche, that as adults, many codependents automatically respond to threat like dogs, symbolically rolling over on their backs, wagging their tails, hoping for a little mercy and an occasional scrap. Webster’s second entry for fawn is: “to show friendliness by licking hands, wagging its tail, etc.: said of a dog.” I find it tragic that some codependents are as loyal as dogs to even the worst “masters”.

Remember what Sirius called him? Lucius’s lapdog. Bellatrix called him Dumbledore’s pet, Dumbledore said he dangles on Voldemort’s arm, the narrative compares Snape to a rabbit in SWM and Harry compares the Half Blood Prince to a beloved pet who had gone feral (yes, this does mean a lot to me on a personal level, yes my username is not a coincidence).

His unconscious fawn response might have been his undoing, drawn as he was to figures like Lucius and Voldemort. As an adult, I think he utilized the skills he had developed to survive in order to stitch these people up, and involuntary dissociation and fawning became Occlumency, which to me, is his signature magic. Harry needed only to banish Voldemort from his mind; Severus could not settle for this. He had to give Voldemort something, and knowing how to fawn meant knowing what to give him and how to draw himself in such a light that Voldemort would believe it. We see how he wanted to be seen by the Death Eaters: a self-serving coward who sought to hide behind Dumbledore’s apron, playing his pet. But that’s Pettigrew, not Snape. Imagine the self-immolation, the self-violation, it must have taken to convince everyone that you’re an ersatz Wormtail! Snape is a man and a prince, and the text recognizes this as Harry calls him, in the end, Dumbledore’s man, the bravest man, and as that chapter is called “The Prince’s Tale”. Voldemort thought Snape was nothing more than a “good and faithful servant,” and that his last words were “My Lord”.

But Severus had an unequaled gift for Occlumency, specifically against Voldemort, because Voldemort could not legilimens what he couldn’t feel; and he couldn’t feel love, grief, guilt, and remorse. This was Severus’s secret weapon, which would not have worked against Harry - who can feel these things, and who is also Lily’s son. I can prove it. The first time Harry gets the hang of Occlumency is after Dobby dies:

His scar burned, but he was master of the pain; he felt it, yet was apart from it. He had learned control at last, learned to shut his mind to Voldemort, the very thing Dumbledore had wanted him to learn from Snape. Just as Voldemort had not been able to possess Harry while Harry was consumed with grief for Sirius, so his thoughts could not penetrate Harry now, while he mourned Dobby. Grief, it seemed, drove Voldemort out . . . though Dumbledore, of course, would have said that it was love. . . .

Harry learned to dissociate, though fortunately in a healthier way than many of us ever get to.

Of course, Snape was a good and faithful servant… to Dumbledore, which brings us to the flight response. The chapter wherein he escapes after killing Dumbledore is called “Flight of the Prince”. He should be fighting, he had just proven that he can cast a killing curse, and yet he flees. He can literally fly, in fact: He, Lily, and Voldemort are the only ones we see pulling this off.

As a child, we see this too: He copes with his home situation by reminding himself “it won’t be long and I’ll be gone.” He is thrilled when he imagines Hogwarts, his escape; he follows Lily out of the carriage instead of confronting James and Sirius head-on (which might have saved them all a lot of pain eventually). But this doesn’t work out, we see that in terrifying detail. The next attempt at an escape is joining the Death Eaters, but this too doesn’t work out.

He can’t flee anymore.

“Severus, you cannot pretend this isn’t happening!” Karkaroff’s voice sounded anxious and hushed, as though keen not to be overheard. “It’s been getting clearer and clearer for months. I am becoming seriously concerned, I can’t deny it —”

“Then flee,” said Snape’s voice curtly. “Flee — I will make your excuses. I, however, am remaining at Hogwarts.”

Shortly thereafter:

“Severus,” said Dumbledore, turning to Snape, “you know what I must ask you to do. If you are ready . . . if you are prepared . . .”

“I am,” said Snape.

He looked slightly paler than usual, and his cold, black eyes glittered strangely.

He was ready, and he was prepared. He didn’t fly; he walked toward what might well have been his end with open eyes, armed only with the strength of his mind. Before Voldemort killed him, he looked pale, again, and terrified.

“I sought a third wand, Severus. The Elder Wand, the Wand of Destiny, the Deathstick. I took it from its previous master. I took it from the grave of Albus Dumbledore.”

And now Snape looked at Voldemort, and Snape’s face was like a death mask. It was marble white and so still that when he spoke, it was a shock to see that anyone lived behind the blank eyes.

I ask myself if this was the moment he realized he had been betrayed, that by giving Dumbledore a painless death he had secured his own. Maybe he wasn’t pale because he was scared; maybe he was pale because he was shocked. He was at his absolute limit, Occluding with all his might when he could have easily saved himself. The dam is about to break. All the memories he feared, all the weapons, the entire content of his heart is about to spill through - literally.

He fawned for Voldemort, the worst of all possible masters, but in the end, he was Voldemort’s undoing. All the ways in which he was weak and powerless against Tobias, James, Lucius, et al., proved to be part of goodness and source of his power. It doesn’t surprise me in the least that Snape is so loved. I’ve never actually seen such love for any other fictional character. He represents a kind of courage that many of us need to get by, lest we simply become evil or give the fuck up (“I wish I was dead”). A kind of courage rarely celebrated. The more time I’ve spent in the fandom in general and in the Snapedom in particular, the more I am convinced of this.