#i can't even bring myself to watch further rn

[magicaldragons]

binbin had been his hope for the future

to ryu si-o & binbin, hungary had been not just a place, but an idea – a potential future – a chance at freedom. an unspoken promise to each other. it had been somewhere that pavel would never have been able to follow them.

but we see ryu si-o finally open his eyes to the reality of it all: pavel...had always been there too.

there was no way out of this existence: of the mafia and betrayal. of never being enough, and always trying too hard.

it's heartbreaking to see the look on ryu si-o's face, when he realizes that binbin never got away – that the hope he'd had all this while, never existed in the first place. he'd never had a chance at defeating pavel.

ryu si-o had only ever had two motives in life:

to defeat pavel

to find binbin

and now, there was no longer anything left to live for.

[fanaticsnail]

Snail I need you to know I got struck with the most heinous inspiration for a Buggy smut that I am cooking up rn but bc it will be a while let me set the scene

Picture this; Buggy so enamored with someone that he hasn't had sex with anyone else, and every time he masturbates he's imagining them.

So by the time they have sex he quickly realizes he's not going to last. He keeps trying to subtly stop and readjust without letting them know but they catch on and ask what's wrong. He confessed and they assure him that they want him - in whatever way he'll be, but he's not fully convinced.

They joke that if they are that desperate they can always just use him.

And both of them notice how much he likes the sound of that.

So they pick up again, only this time he's not holding back - he wants to cum early so he can watch them use him for their own pleasure like a sex toy. He's begging them to describe how they'd use him, and they do.

They mention his devil fruit powers and how they could always use him as a dildo, or detach his head and ride his face, or both at the same time. Just hearing them describe it makes him cum but he doesn't even let himself finish cumming fully before he's trying to talk through his moans, begging them to use him. He doesn't care if it hurts, he wants it to hurt, he wants to bring them pleasure at his own expense.

They detach his dick - still inside them - and ride his face. He's mostly just sucking their clit, he doesn't care that he's tasting himself because the more he slurps away his own cum the more he can taste them. Until they start humping his face more and he opens his mouth around the base of his dick to stabilize it for them. The image giving him fantasies of them using him another way by fucking his face with his own dick. The more he feels their frothy slit around the base of his cock on his lips the hungrier he gets to feel it himself, so he detaches his tongue and sends it up there. Shouting around himself at the overstimulating sensation of his own tongue wriggling past his shaft through the hot, tight warmth. Finally, he finds their G-spot and abuses it as they grin their clit into his nose. Not caring that the more they tighten around him the more it hurts.

When he feels them cum he does too. When all of a sudden they start squirting and he immediately opens his mouth to latch around their pussy and catch it, feeling betrayed when he realizes his tongue is still inside so he doesn't get to taste it in his mouth.

Once they stop shaking from the aftershocks his dismembered body pries their legs further apart and rips out his dick, his tongue flying to join back with his mouth before it presses tightly shut around his prize. Uncaring as his own warm spend leaks onto his face he moans as he finally gets to taste it.

"More."

The two successive orgasms plus the sudden rush of cold air on his wet dick makes him burn with overstimulation, but he doesn't care.

"Please, baby, use me more." his head tries to chase you as you collapse beside his head, legs unable to hold yourself up anymore. "Please? Take my dick with you, or take my tongue, you always say I talk too much, please-"

His makeup is so smeared.

"please, keep using me, don't leave me, don't let me go, don't care if it hurts. Want it to hurt. Wanna feel you when I walk-"

You've created a monster

Snail.

Snail.

SNAIL.

You can't just go around and say these things and expect me to go ahead and pretend that everything is fine. My goodness. SNAIL. I am absolutely amazed. Gobsmacked. This is bloody spicy. Bloody hell. Oh my gosh.

The way you've set the scene right off the bat is impeccable, truly. I was immediately left too stunned to speak. I was assembling dinner and was like: "Oh? I got an ask? Oh it's from that beautiful Snail! That sweet, beautiful, lovely Snail who always has such kind thoughts and words to share. Oh let me see what they've got to- OH, WHAT THE FUCK, OH MY GOSH, BLOODY HELL!!!"

Had to take a minute to compose myself before I got back to cooking my cassoulet 💀. I had to perch atop my kitchen counter for a bit. Heights brings me an aura of calm 👌.

When you drop the full fic, you have to tag me, love. Oh my gosh.

Everyone. Everyone. Look at what the amazing @sexc-snail is whittling. I'm still stunned.

@feral-artistry @sordidmusings @writingmysanity @since-im-already-here @lostfirefly @vespidphoenix @carrotsunshine look at this!!!

[effervescentdragon]

Piarles “we shouldn’t be doing this”

Por favor 🥺🐶

@mssr-monagato i love you.💕 this is only written because i got inspired by @hourcat @wolfiemcwolferson and @singsweetmelodies writing series of wonderful ficlets and i need the softness. (shooting myself for that gaffe rn btw) ❤️

The days are cold, but the nights are even worse.

Pushing through the lines on the Eastern front is hell. Charles knew people who thought Hell was hot were absolutely wrong. Hell was frozen land and frozen toes and frozen noses. It was cold metal of rifles and clumsy fingers that pulled the triggers. It was red streaks on dirty snow that used to be white once upon a time.

Charles used to love snow. In his memory, it was always pure white and it was always synonymous with joy. The muddy, red-and-brown streaked snow his boots fall into underneath his feet brings him only sorrow. It feels like a metaphor for this war, or maybe for life.

"You're so romantic, calamar," Pierre tells him when Charles shares his thoughts with him that night. They are both on watch. They rarely separate these days, and the watch is no exception. Their unit is sleeping in an abandoned house they found on their way East, always East, always further into the desolate freezing enemy teritory. "How do you still think of poetry when we are-" he waves his hands around, shaking his head "- here?"

Charles chuckles softly. There is no fire, they don't dare light one in case they are discovered, and the night bites at Charles' cheeks. The sky above them is covered in clouds, and the moonlight isn't enough to see anything clearly. It would be beautiful, if Charles weren't so cold all the time.

"Don't you think it's beautiful?" he asks Pierre. "There is beauty in despair."

Pierre shakes his head. "No," he says, much more sharply than Charles expected him to. "There is nothing beautiful in fucking despair. There is nothing beautiful in death, Charlo."

"You're Catholic, Pierre," Charles says, hurt for some reason. "Isn't that the whole point? That death is something to welcome?"

Pierre's brow furrows. He puffs out a breath of air and it's visible, that's how cold it is.

"I thought so," Pierre says after a moment. "I really thought so. And then we came here, and..." he trails off. Charles keeps looking at him, waits him out. "There is nothing beautiful here."

Charles smiles. "You're beautiful."

Pierre flinches, looking arou d with wide eyes. "Charles," he starts, a bit frantic, "we can't-"

Charles moves closer to him. "Why not?" He's whispering now, close enough to Pierre that he can hear Pierre's every breath. "Nobody is here. Everyone is sleeping. Our shift changes in two hours. There is nobody around for miles." He presses his cold nose to Pierre's cheek, breathes the next words to the corner of Pierre's mouth. "Why not?"

He feels more than sees Pierre swallow. "We shouldn't be doing this," Pierre says. His breath is warm when it hits Charles' skin. He's too cold to get aroused properly, but ut doesn't matter. It's not about that. It's just about Pierre.

"But I'm desperate," he whispers. "Desperate to kiss you. Desperate to feel you. I haven't tasted you for days, I haven't had you for months, Pierre, I can't-"

Pierre kisses him. Their rifles clank against each other, and they separate for a moment. Nobody stirs; nobody comes to check on them. They move the rifles out of the way, and in a moment Pierre is pulling him close, his mouth warm on Charles', his cold nose pressing into Charles' cheek. The leather of his gloves presses into Charles' neck and Charles shivers, desire and cold mixing and making his head spin.

"It won't be this war that kills me," Pierre whispers between kisses. "It will be you."

Charles grabs onto the lapels of Pierre's coat. "Nothing will kill you. Only petites morts, my love," Charles says, and Pierre chuckles.

"When all of this is done, we will go home, and we won't leave the bed for weeks, and you will die many times, and you will come back to me many times, Charles." Pierre's eyes shine with intensity. "I will bring you back every time, and then give you one more, and another, and another."

Charles nuzzles into Pierre's cheek. "You promise?" he asks softly, because he needs to hear it. Because he needs it to be true.

"I swear," Pierre replies. "I swear, my love."

Charles, despite everything, believes him.

[thomas-the-goat-of-satan]

The euphoria fandom annoys the shit out of me, more than anything else, and that’s saying something cuz I was in the MARVEL fandom..

I do like your posts tho, how would you rank the main Euphoria characters?

the Euphoria fandom tends to bother me too, just because like... they'll give the shittiest, most tone deaf take that you've ever seen, and then people will come in fucking DROVES to agree with them. "Jules is the real villain. ✌️🤪" stfu lmao. and thank you!

disclaimer: this is bound to change as more episodes come out; tbh it might even change by tonight, because these characters are so erratic.

1. Jules.

this placement is fueled only partly by spite. I just love Jules. her special episode is one of my favorite episodes, and I think that's she's extremely compelling. I genuinely think that a lot of the hatred that she receives stems from transphobia.

2. Lexi.

I'm interested. I really want them to dive deeper into her familial issues, because her and Cassie literally have the Same backstory, but their coping skills are so insanely different.

3. Fez.

is Fez a main character at this point?

4. Kat.

Kat is a dumb fuck. I don't think that's a controversial opinion to have, but I like her. the way her sex work storyline was handled in S1 isn't my favorite, I've talked about it before in a post, but most of what I said still stands by episode three, so. I like her, tho, even if I don't like how her storyline is being written atm.

5. Rue.

I like Rue! the way that people are treating her as if she's literally a demon bat from hell is beginning to make me Very angry. I obviously have my issues with her, but overall I like her plenty; I can't help but sympathize with her.

6. Maddy.

I actually really like her, especially after the second episode, but I just... I can't get over the "assisting in the framing of a dude for SA," y'know? still, I would definitely say I like her more than some of the other characters.

7. McKay.

I almost didn't put him here, because he's unfortunately not a main character anymore, but he was in the first season so I'm including him for shits and giggles. I never had any huge problems with him; obviously the way he refused to stick up for Cassie was fucked, and he was pretty controlling sometimes, but I could never bring myself to hate him just because he was given so little development and whenever something happened to him it was used as a way to further Cassie's development. I'm more just bitter about how his arc was treated at this point, especially as the only black man on the show.

8. Cassie.

I don't hate her, and I don't really want her to get her shit rocked by Maddy like everyone else seems to (I Get it, tho 😭😭), but she's pissing me off. I get her motivations, and I get that her trauma and desire for male validation is completely running her life rn, but still, it's still annoying to watch unfold lmao.

9. Nate.

one of the most interesting characters on the show, 100%. still a prick.

[pickalilywrites]

hello. I don't know if you're doing requests rn, but could you do a arumika mermaid fic??? I jus saw an amazing art of it by askmermanlevi tumblr, and now i can't stop wishing to read about it.

thank you @askmermanlevi for creating such a wonderful mermaid au w/ so many snk characters. i hope it’s alright that i wrote a mermaid au inspired by your au esp since i reused your cute design for mermaid mikasa xoxo 

To the End of the Ocean

Arumika. Mermaid AU. 

1693 words. 

Buy me a ko-fi!

There are those that are daring enough to explore the vast expanse of the ocean, but Armin is not one of them. The depths of the ocean have always intrigued him, and yet he has always wondered what lies past the barrier of coral that he has come to know so well. It is not that he is frightened of what lies ahead - stinging jellyfish, ravenous sharks, and vicious stingrays. He knows those obstacles will be there, that they exist in the ocean. It is his fear of the unknown that prevents him from leaving his small space in the sea. How can he abandon everything he’s ever known - the little shallow pool near the shore that he rests every night with his grandfather, the colorful reef he visits with his childhood friend Eren, and the beautiful caverns filled with gentle crustaceans that he sometimes takes shelter in when the sea is restless - for something he’s not even sure is there? He fears that whatever lies ahead will only underwhelm him or perhaps be too much for him to handle, and he will always yearn to be back home as soon as he leaves. Still, he continues to look through the vast blue waters, wondering what he would encounter if he ever dared to venture further than he had ever gone before.

Instead, he tries to satisfy himself with the tales that travelers weave as they pass by every year, sometimes showing off souvenirs that they had acquired on their travels. There’s another mermaid in particular whose stories captivate Armin the most. Although she’s the same age as him, she’s traveled more of the ocean than he ever will. Perhaps others in Armin’s position would be jealous, but Armin had never thought to be envious. He’s too busy marveling at her as he listens to the stories she tells.

Mikasa, the mermaid mentioned, sits at the center of a crowd of other curious merpeople. Although she’s been doing this for years, it’s still strange for Armin to see her like this. When they had just been merchildren learning how to swim, he never thought she would swim across the ocean. Perhaps he should have followed her.

The audience members listen intently as she describes the wondrous sights she had witnessed as she traveled the sea. Her family - all of them travelers - had just returned after journeying to a curious ocean filled with sweet water. It makes all the creatures there sweet-tempered and kind, she says, and the seagrass taste of sugar. She had been lucky enough to bring some for those who wished to try it as well.

As she passes it around, others ooh and aah at the peculiar seagrass, its pink tips and ruffled edges making it so different from the seagrass that they’re typically used to seeing. Armin, however, takes little notice of it aside from a quick glance. He’s more interested in Mikasa, how her vibrantly colored tail - glittering with scales of orange and black and white - swishes back and forth and how her gray eyes light up as she recalls her time in the strange sea. He wishes to see that same sea with his own eyes someday, but he does not believe he’ll ever have the courage to travel as Mikasa does. He’s content to just listen to her stories, living through her tales that she spins as her usually calm demeanor barely contains her excitement.

The ending of her storytelling is always Armin’s least favorite. He always wishes that such storytellings can stretch until early the next morning, but he realizes that would be silly. Still, he always wishes that Mikasa would continue with her stories, sharing the details that were perhaps lost in between. Others, however, seem satisfied with tonight’s stories, and the crowd is already dispersing. They’re off to their comfortable homes, but Armin trails behind, wondering when the next time for Mikasa’s travels will be. He’s so lost in thought that he doesn’t notice that someone has swum in front of him, dangling a piece of seagrass in his face.

“Mikasa!” Armin says, surprised. He’s thankful that he didn’t bump into her. He backs up a bit, swallowing nervously. “I … I liked your story tonight. It was very beautiful. I wish I could have seen it myself.”

“Thank you. I was worried that you didn’t like it,” she tells him. Mikasa smiles graciously and offers him the seagrass once more. It’s even softer and more colorful up close, the gentle blades of green and pink swaying with the movement of the ocean. “Here. I noticed you didn’t take some earlier, so I saved a bit for you.”

“But I don’t have anything to give you in return,” Armin mumbles. It’s traditional for travelers like Mikasa and her family to bring souvenirs, and listeners trade those souvenirs for food and other goods as a sign of gratitude for the gifts and entertainment. Armin usually only brings a shell from offshore to trade with, but he seems to have forgotten to bring one tonight.

Mikasa shakes her head. “It’s fine. I already received a lot of things already,” she laughs. She watches as he takes the seagrass from her and nibbles tentatively at a blade. When his eyes grow wide at the peculiar taste of them, a smile spreads across her face and she lets out a satisfied laugh. “Ah, I’m so glad you like it! Isn’t the taste peculiar?”

“It is,” Armin agrees as he chews a little more. As he chews, he can taste a hint of the sugar-sweet sea that Mikasa had once described. He wonders if the waters there are also blue, or perhaps they are tinged with a tint of pink just like this seagrass is. Are the animals there sweet as well? Do they swim together, schools of pastel-colored fish mingling together, or do they swim in separate groups, patches of colors gliding through? Does coral grow there, and does it spiral up into violent spikes or does it bloom upward into soft branches? Can you still see the moon glisten on the surface of the ocean, or does it look different from how it does here? He wishes to ask her all of these questions and more, but he can’t bring himself to be so rude. After all, she must be tired after returning home from such a long travel.

The two of them swim slowly through the water in silence for a moment before Mikasa speaks again. “I’m grateful that you always come to my storytellings, although I feel that I can never do the sights I see much justice,” she confesses, looking down at her webbed hands. “I love that you’re so interested in my stories. It calms me to see your face in the audience whenever I return.”

Her words surprise him.  “But you describe your journeys so well! You don’t over embellish things, but the way you talk with your words and the expressions on your face … it makes me feel as if I were there with you.” Armin stops flipping his fins, allowing the sea to push him forward. “And it … it makes me wish that I had been there with you.”

Mikasa studies his face for a moment, drifting alongside him as the waves of the ocean pulled them forward. Finally, she says, “Why don’t you come with me next time?”

“What?” Armin asks, startled. He thinks that she’s joking for a moment - there are times where she makes peculiar jokes - but her expression is earnest. Quickly, he collects himself and mumbles, “I couldn’t possibly … I’m not suited for that kind of life.”

“Is that so?” Mikasa asks, eyebrows raised. She twirls around him, the swirl of water cool against his skin. “There isn’t anyone else in the world more suited to it than you. I have yet to see anyone so captivated by the idea of exploring the ocean, and there is that hunger to discover every single inch of the sea that even I don’t have.”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” Armin mumbles, but Mikasa ignores him.

“And I’ve always thought,” Mikasa continues, watching him carefully, “that traveling the ocean with you would be a lot more fun.”

It’s not that he was afraid of the unknown, Armin realizes now, but that he lacked confidence in himself. It didn’t matter what he found out there - whether it met his expectations or not. He could always return back home. He just needed a little push to finally swim past that coral barrier, and here was Mikasa reaching out her hand for him. All he had to do was take it.

“Maybe next time,” Armin replies, and it seems his answer is sufficient enough.

Mikasa reaches out to wrap her webbed fingers around his hand and gives him a quick squeeze. “It’s going to be wonderful,” she promises him. She squeezes his hand once more, a smile on her face, before swimming away to return to her family.

Armin doesn’t leave for home, not immediately. He remains drifting in the middle of the sea, watching as Mikasa grows smaller and smaller until she vanishes completely. All the while, he thinks about the adventures at sea they’ll have in the near future: encountering dangerous beasts, discovering new fauna and flora, and excavating ruins of shipwrecks and discarded human artifacts. These are things that excited him and frightened him before, but now the thought of such things exhilarates him. He can’t believe he had confined himself to this corner of the ocean for so long. Ah, but he can make up for that soon. With Mikasa, he can see himself traveling to places he had always dreamed about and going to places so magnificent he could never conjure with his imagination alone. What a glorious and curious feeling she has awakened in him, he thinks, but wonderful nonetheless. He hungers for adventure without worry now, and he knows this craving will only be satisfied once he’s traveled to the end of the ocean. And, as Mikasa has said just a few moments before, he knows it’s going to be wonderful.