#i wish the ending wasn't as ambiguous

[aeaeaexxzd]

Dogtooth (2006) Yorgos Lanthimos

[kalashtars]

just watched saltburn and then went on letterboxd..... lol what do you mean everyone didn't think this was a 5 star masterpiece

[nuclearspring]

thinking about a timeline in which benny actually just pulls off an independent new vegas thanks to a little luck and perseverance and a sufficiently dead mailman

[eternalgirlscout]

earlier today i told an acquaintance in passing that i'll often be in the middle of a novel and think "man i wish this shit were more ambiguous" and had to reiterate twice that i wasn't being sarcastic before they believed me, so this post is to say: i love when writers don't bother to explain everything, i love when stories end uncertain and unsettling, i love being required to think as a reader, i love when stuff makes no damn sense, no i'm not kidding

[gingermintpepper]

Okay, let's finally talk about EPIC's Apollo

I feel very compelled to say, first of all, that I do not dislike Epic. In fact, I am very fond of Epic and have been following its production and status very eagerly! I attend all the launch streams, I watch all of Herrans' update videos; I am, at the end of the day, a fan and I want it to be known that my words are spoken out of love and passion as much as they are spoken from a place of critique.

So really, what my problem with Epic's Apollo?

In the briefest possible terms; the choice to have Apollo be defined by his musical aspect in God Games is thematically strange. And not in the 'oh well in the Odyssey, Apollo was important to Odysseus and his family so it's weird that that wasn't kept in Epic' strange, strange in the sense that Odysseus' character arc since My Goodbye has been getting more and more obviously Apollonian and so it is positively bizarre that when we get to meet Apollo, the god seems entirely disinterested in him and his affairs. So much so that he is not even defined by any station that would indicate that he has been watching over and protecting Odysseus and his family.

What do I mean by 'Odysseus has been following an Apollonian arc'? I'm so glad you asked!

Remember Them is the last song in which Odysseus explicitly uses his sword until Mutiny where he must use it to defend himself against Eurylochus' blade. He uses it to help enact the plan to conquer Polyphemus and, due to Polites dying in that battle, Polites who wished for Odysseus to put the blade down entirely and embrace a post-war life, Odysseus also retires his sword. This is an action that symbolically separates him from Athena - and the image of Odysseus as a traditional warrior set for him in Horse and Infant - as much as My Goodbye physically separates him from the goddess and her war-ways - from this point onwards, Odysseus will no longer be leaning on Athena's wisdom or methods to solve his problems. Likewise, he will no longer be able to rely on her protection.

Odysseus thusly solves most of his upcoming problems through diplomacy and avoidance. He approaches Aeolus - a strange and ambiguous god (both in gender and in motivation) and appeals to them for help. Circe too, he approaches not with wishes to conquer or for revenge, but for the safe returning of his men and an alternate way forward. In all of these scenarios, there is some Apollonian element which is subtly interweaved alongside the influence of other gods; it is with a bow and arrows that Polyphemus' sheep is slain (and thus it is this Apollonian element which is at the root of Odysseus' spat with Poseidon), it is a vision of Penelope that warns Odysseus that his men are about to open Aeolus' wind-bag, Circe's peace offering to Odysseus is to refer him to a prophet of Apollo who has since died.

In this way, Apollo is walking alongside Odysseus for all of his journey after Athena departs - even in the Underworld, he is guiding him. It is Tiresias' proclamation that is the last straw for Odysseus, it is by the power of a mouthpiece of Apollo that Odysseus decides to embrace his ruthlessness. It is with the bow and arrow that Odysseus subdues the siren who sought to trick him, likewise, Odysseus does not attempt to undermine or escape the fate of paying Scylla's passage price - he knows of the doom about to befall the six men and quite unlike the rest of the journey until this point, he does not fight against it. This all comes to a head on Thrinacia where it is a blade which sacrifices the sun god's cow and brings destruction upon the crew once more.

My point with all of this is that when I heard the teasers for God Games years ago, it made perfect sense to me that Apollo would be Round One - he is not Odysseus' adversary and has no reason to oppose Athena's wish to free him. From other teasers about what will happen in the climax of Epic, Apollo will still be walking alongside Odysseus - it is Apollo's bow that Penelope will give the suitors to string. Likewise, it is Apollo's bow that will prove Odysseus' legitimacy and identity. That bow will be the power by which Odysseus hunts his adversaries and cleans out his palace - it is Apollo who is the avatar of Odysseus' ruthlessness, not Athena.

So tell me, truly, what was the point of having Apollo raise a non-argument in God Games? Why have him appear unconcerned, aloof and slightly oblivious? Why have him appear in his capacity as the Lord of Music at all?? And if the intention was never to make Apollo an active player in Odysseus' life like he was in the Odyssey, why keep Odysseus as a primary archer?

The answer of course is that Apollo is inextricable from the fabric of the Odyssey - his influence and favour exudes from Odysseus just as much as Athena's. In Athena's ten year sulk, it would have been Apollo who kept Telemachus and Penelope safe. It would have been Apollo protecting Odysseus from Poseidon's gaze as he travelled the seas (according to the Odyssey anyway)

Forgive me for not being excited about something that I thought was being purposefully set up. I was extremely ecstatic about all of the little Apollonian details that litter the sagas because I know where this story ends up (loosely) but all God Games did was reveal that maybe those Apollonian details were not intentional at all, but merely the ghost of the Apollo who persistently haunts those he favours, even if he cannot explicitly come to their aide in an adaptation.

[pygmi-cygni]

Playing Favorites

poe dameron x reader

summary: your position as resource agent isn't high on the christmas card list for most, but you take it seriously. As seriously as you can, while still having to scold grown men for their....antics.

@brighterthanlonelywords REMEMBER THIS THING WE TALKED ABOUT IDK IF YOU DO BUT I SWEAR I DIDN'T FORGET!! in my poe dameron post like three weeks ago lmao you gave me this idea

content: sexual innuendos, pining, flirting, banter, angst...it's a poe fic like you know why ur here

there is a brief scene where reader is harrassed, it isn't sexual or anything dw

reader is afab, described w braidable hair, texture not described/racially ambiguous

You'd taken the job for the scenery. Being from Kamino, you hadn't seen much farther than your window, let alone anything other than rain. Your parents had told you stories of the skies, promising to leave the soggy planet. In the end, you escaped on a ragtag Rebel ship recruiting pilots. Immediately upon landing at the lush landscape of D'Qar, you'd known it was the right choice. The view floored you every time.

But nothing could compensate for the amount of utter bullshit you experienced as a resource agent.

So...you decided to do barrel rolls in an unregistered X-Wing?

Uh, yeah.

Without a helmet or a pilot's license?

uhhh....

You were the epitome of a short fuse. Resource agents were essentially the Resistance's HR team. Strange, because absolutely nothing about the Resistance followed 'protocol', but you supposed there needed to be some kind of discipline in place.

No, your crew wasn't making many friends in the Res, nor were you the most celebrated, but somebody had to do it.

Though, you wished it was somebody else.

Mind melting to a thoughtless mush as you listened to a cadet stumble over excuses, you flicked through the remaining meetings scheduled.

Team training, team training, briefing with Organa....fuckkkk.

Your favorite piece of shit, Poe Dameron, had another protocol screening set for his next mission. You gotta be kidding me.

Normally, pilots had a protocol training at the beginning of their enlistment and then once every six months. It was long and tedious; going through safety maneuvers and briefing procedure to make sure everything was up to date. But, because Dameron was special and liked to play by his own rules, General Organa had started mandating his for every mission.

Which meant three hours out of your day because somebody didn't read the Terms and Conditions.

This is such bullshit.

Schooling your expression into neutrality as the bumbling cadet finished his story, you tried to stop your fingers from crushing the tablet in your hands.

Being the equivalent of a galactic HR meant that you weren't gonna be on anybody's Christmas list. Yeah, the job was tedious, but you weren't good enough at plying to be a pilot and couldn't fix a droid to save your life, so you used your skills to help in the way you could.

You were here to stop a war, not make friends.

You could feel Dameron before you saw him. The ego that shone like a halo around him was sparkling like a disco ball as he loudly bantered with his crewmates. General Organa had already arrived, and shot you an amused glance as you rubbed your temples.

Inside voice, Dameron, for the love of Hoth.

"Evening, Commander," you said briskly, gesturing towards the prep room doors, "you know where to start."

He made eye contact and grinned. "Right to business, I like it. Cute hair, sweetheart," he added smoothly. You bit back a frown and followed Organa into the small briefing station. Initially you'd been excited to wear your new braids, but his incessant flirting dampened your pride.

"Flirting with an HR officer is awfully brave of you," you fired back.

"I like a challenge." His smirk sparkled in the low light.

General Organa, used to your bickering, waved at the holo above the console.

"This mission is simple, Dameron, a recon on the Mid Rim. You'll be out there for around two standard days. You are required to check in every twelve hours, and return with the information here," she explained, highlighting a small map underneath the mission summary. Dameron leaned forward, brow set.

"A map....of Abelor? That's a spice trade port, General, why does the Resistance need to be involved?" His confusion mirrored your own. Organa held up a hand, continuing.

"There have been rumors that First Order informants are using the spice port to smuggle information planet-to-planet without needing to go through protocol checks. This is merely a recon to stake out the area. You'll be meeting with an ally, Rhett Mosley." A lanky man popped up next to the summary. He was mostly covered in tribal tattoos, and a pair of thick goggles hid most of his face.

Poe nodded, copying the info on his personal tablet.

"Any questions?"

At his subtle shake of the head, she gestured to you and bowed. "Continue with the protocol, ten hours until takeoff."

You both murmured a farewell and she left with a swish of her cloak. For a moment, Poe was suspended in his own head, gaze distant and stricken. Awkwardly, you shuffled around, hoping to rouse him.

He snapped out of it, and his trademark grin spread across his face. "Just you and me now, sweetheart," he said, bumping your shoulder.

"Just get in the fucking X-Wing."

You sat by, bored as Poe droned about the processes in his ship. He knew the steps, you knew he knew the steps, but because of this stupid loophole in the system, you both had to sit here for another hour.

"Maker- look, Dameron," you sighed, scrubbing your hand over your face, "I know that you're more than capable of doing this mission. I'll sign all your papers, I just want this to be over."

He paused in the middle of showing you the intricate seamwork on the inside of his security belt. A mock look of abhorrence crossed his face.

"What! You wound me, baby. I thought you loved our time together," he bemoaned, batting his dark lashes.

Your filter was slowly coming loose. "Yes, how could I forget, Dameron, how enjoyable it is to listen to your terrible pick-up lines while you bullshit your way through a protocol exam?"

This earned a small chuckle. To your dismay, a small part of your ego preened at the sound. You liked making people laugh. And if Commander Dameron happened to be the one laughing....well, that was okay too.

"No it's not," you snapped. You hated him. This was-

"What? Yes it is, I just showed you." Poe was looking at you, head tilted in confusion. You blushed, realizing you'd said that out loud.

"Right. Er...sorry, Commander, continue. I didn't...nevermind," you muttered, willing your cheeks to stop flaming. He wiggled his brows at you again.

"Feeling a little hot and bothered, Lieutenant?" Poe grinned, the pink tip of his tongue poking out. You scowled at your feet. Since childhood, your cheeks flamed like hell at the slightest embarrassment.

"That's alright," he continued his conversation, "I know I have that effect on people. Sorry to inconvenience you, honey, I know you still think you hate me."

You aggressively signed off on his report, shoving him the document and wiping the growing smile off your face.

"Good luck, Commander, you're cleared for takeoff."

"Can I get a goodbye kiss?" he called after you.

The mission, by all accounts, was a resounding success. You didn't care; still riding the high of being Dameron-free for at least a few days. The base had been, to nobody's surprise, remarkably calm and quiet for the weekend.

But, like clockwork, our favorite flyboy was marched into your office at 7 sharp, sporting a black eye and a toothy grin. His droid, a cute BB unit, was beeping frantically, occasionally rolling into his feet.

You looked up from your caf, unamused.

"Early bird gets the right hook, I see," you sighed, rubbing a hand over your face.

"Left, actually," he said sheepishly, rocking on his heels. The corrections officer that led him in rolled her eyes, snapping a salute and walking off.

"Dameron, we've had this conversation too many times for me to pretend like you didn't deserve it."

As if on cue, he threw himself across from your desk, hands folded. "No, no, listen," he wheedled, "look, it's a long story, and I wasn't trying to start anything, swear-"

"BB-8, recent log information, please," you asked crisply. Poe shot his friend a desperate look.

"Beebs," he hissed, "come on, stick with me on this one, dude!" BB-8 blinked, then rolled over to you and stuck out his little thumb drive.

You thanked him, kindly patting his tummy. Preening, the little droid circled his pilot friend tauntingly. Poe glared balefully. "I give you tummy rubs too," he grumbled.

A grainy camera feed pulled up. Dameron and another pilot, clearly drunk, were getting heated over something you couldn't make out. Truthfully, the other guy swung first, but Poe was not clear of fault.

"You slapped him with a plate," you deadpanned, rewinding to watch it again. Poe rubbed his neck.

"Well, yeah, but..." he trailed off, searching for a good excuse.

"I do recognize that he punched first, but you still antagonized him. I'll send you to my advisor and they'll do a case review for you." Eager to get on with your morning and shove Poe off your desk, you waved at him to leave.

His lower lip pushed out. Goddamn the puppy eyes, I swear to Maker.

"But why won't you clear it for me?" His voice was small, pleading. Beebs, clearly unamused, thumped against Poe's knee.

"I don't have the authority."

"But...wait, wait. I could take you by the cantina and you could ask the people that were there, and maybe...I'll buy you a drink, and we can chat for-"

"Dameron," you said again, tone gentler. "I'm sorry. But I'd lose my job."

"I've heard my company is worth it," he winked, then winced, for he'd winked with his bruised eye. BB-8 booped wearily. You felt for the little guy. Opening a desk drawer, you pulled out a small tube of varnish and gave the droid a shine for his efforts.

"Stop pampering my droid and pay attention to me," Poe complained, "he'll start picking favorites."

You sighed, looking at the pilot with a tired expression. Even though he gave you trouble, Poe was a good pilot and a good friend. He teased and flirted and drove you up the wall, but he was a good guy. You didn't want his record to be tainted, he wouldn't come around anymore.

Woah, where did that come from?

"Poe," you said slowly. He noticeably brightened at his name, putting as much into his smile as you'd ever seen. "I cannot clear you from this...event. However, if you write a written apology and an explanation I can...forget it."

He threw his arms around your shoulders and crowed in success. BB-8 whirred in surprise. You didn't lean into the embrace, too shocked to do anything. He smelled...nice. Like metal and cinnamon.

"Thanks, honey," he whispered, "I owe you one." Pulling away, he poked BB-8 in in the tummy and smirked.

"Told you she'd listen," he whispered smugly. As he whistled and strolled off, a faint blush dotted your cheeks.

He really was a sweetheart.

Night time was your favorite on base. It was quiet, solitary. Walking past the housing on your nightly check, you smiled at the sounds of muffled laughter coming from the bunks. It was like a family. Dysfunctional, yeah, but it was home.

It had been a long day. You had two hallways to go before you could collapse in your own bed. Tomorrow was your day off - you could finally sleep in.

You were playing with the zipper on your jacket as you rounded the corner.

A solid block of person collided with your cheek. Stumbling, you caught yourself on the wall.

"S-sorry, I didn't mean to-"

An unfamiliar scowl glowered down at you. Your apology trailed off. This guy was huge, probably six feet tall and heavyset. His face looked familiar, what with the sharp cut across the bridge of his nose.

Oh. This was the guy Poe had been tussling with.

"Sorry, sir, I need to get by," you said, shaken from the impact. He didn't move. Thompson was printed on his breast pocket, with a green insignia. Green Squadron.

"Heard you had something to do with this," he snarled, jabbing a thumb at his rank. Suspended.

"I..." a rush of panic swelled inside you. This is why you didn't play favorites. You buckled one time and now this guy was gonna wreck your shit. Fucking Dameron, shit shit shit-

"I..I didn't do your intake," you stammered, balking at his imposing figure. "It wasn't my case-"

"No, but pretty boy gets to fly tomorrow, and guess who took his?" Thompson was seething, eyes narrowed to slits. You were amazed that Poe had the balls to smash a plate on this guy. You wanted to curl up and cry.

Help. Help. Somebody help me oh my god I'm going to die.

There were rows of doors on either side of you. You could knock on any of them, but he'd surely grab you before you made it. If you screamed, maybe somebody would-

Stars and pain exploded and you were catapulted backwards, crumpling against the doorhandle. The wind had been knocked out of you so sharply not even a gasp had escaped your lips. Choking and heaving, you scrambled backwards. Pain was everywhere. You weren't sure where he'd hit you.

I'm going to die.

Thompson sneered down at you, making a grab for your collar. Desperately, you scratched at his face, tearing open his smashed nose. The reopened wound gushed, sticky red trickling down your fingers and into his raging mouth. You gagged, but quickly cowered as he swung again at your face.

His fist smashed against the door, and you mentally apologized to whoever was trying to sleep. Air was becoming harder to swallow, and you realized his hand was twisting your shirt too tight around your throat.

uh oh uh oh fuck you sputtered and gasped and tried to smack him off, but he grabbed your wrists

fuck-

You fell backwards; rolling out of his grasp and into a dark room. Something yanked your shoulders backwards and you were shoved into darkness. Finally able to suck in a breath, a bloodcurdling shriek ripped from your bruised throat.

A large hand clapped over your lips. You wailed louder, trying to escape the sweaty palm.

stop it stop it HELP stop stop SOMEBODY FUCKING HELP

A ringing in your ear, punctuated by a loud male voice.

"Stop it," he hissed, removing his hand from your mouth. You panted and struggled against the forearms bracing your stomach. The first punch had landed on your sternum, and the entirety of your torso was screaming in pain.

"Hurts," you whimpered, trying to shove away. The man let go and you collapsed forward, gagging from the pain. A small night light glowed in the corner of the room, highlighting a familiar mop of curls.

"Poe," you wheezed, sitting up against the door. A muffled commotion could be heard outside - likely your fellow officers finally detaining the rogue Green pilot.

He nodded, wiping his brow. Grabbing the light from his desk, he brought it over to look at you. The warm light added a softer glaze to his eyes. He looked bleary. You'd probably woken him up.

"Hey, sweetheart," he said, gently coming to sit next to you. You sniffled, still shaking.

"Don't move," he whispered, free hand coming up to carefully inspect your face. You didn't look at him, ashamed to be in this state. The light he was holding was for a child - shaped like a small cartoon Bantha. Cute, you thought listlessly.

Trembling, you could still feel Thompson's hands around your throat. You choked again, throat constricting around nothing. Fear still pierced your bones, and you folded forwards, sobbing into your knees.

Poe, surprised, swore and set the light down. His hands fluttered over your back, unsure of where it was okay to touch. He settled for your hair, petting the plaits gently as you cried.

The sounds outside had long quieted before you ran out of tears. A cold bottle was pressed into your hands. Cool water trickled down your throat. You swallowed gratefully. The room, still dark, brightened again as Poe flicked on another night-light.

Your lower lip was trembling, this time with embarrassment. You could feel Poe's concerned gaze tracing your face.

"You need to go to the medbay?" His gravelly, sleep-warm voice was quiet, hand still running over your hair.

You shook your head.

"Anything broken?"

Feeling around your ribs, you winced. Bruised, nothing broken. Again, you shook your head, clutching your water.

Poe nodded, scooting to sit next to you. You sat together, slowly coming down from the cortisol spike. Your limbs still shook, heartrate erratic against your aching chest.

"You're okay in here," Poe murmured, "Thompson may be strong, but he can't break through doors." You shivered, ducking your head into his shoulder. He understood, falling quiet again

Your throat was raw, and bruises pulsed under your skin. Eye contact was impossible, the embarrassment forcing your eyes down. You looked like a wreck - hair falling loose and bruises littering your body. The spot on the back of your head throbbed from the impact with the door.

Poe's fingers traced lightly, and you whimpered when they hit the sore spot. He retracted his hand quickly, apologizing rapidly.

"Hang on, hang on." His warm shoulder disappeared, and you sniffled at the loss. He returned a moment later with an ice pack, which he gently settled on the back of your head. The cold was soothing.

"I'm sorry," he said, gaze mournful. "This is kinda my fault, isn't it."

You squinted at him in the low light. "What?" Your voice was raspy.

"I made you get him in trouble, right? If I hadn't..." he gestured off towards your office, "y'know, then...well, you'd probably be on Thomspon's nice list."

You huffed a dejected laugh. "No, it's-" you cleared your throat, taking another sip of water. "it's okay." It wasn't, not really, but you didn't have the energy to be mad.

"I see why you don't play favorites," Poe said, smiling sadly. You gave him a half smile.

A soft beep came from your left and you turned. BB was tilted questioningly, large eye blinking.

"Hey, beebs," you whispered, reaching out to poke his antennae. He whirred and nudged your hand. "I'll be okay, it's just a couple bruises."

Your mind was still reeling. Poe scratched his friend's tummy then turned back to you.

"Why don't you stay here for tonight?" His eyes were genuine and concerned. You looked at him wearily. His hair was ruffled and cheeks flushed from sleep. Cute.

What?

"I won't try anything, promise," he reassured, hands raised placatingly. "I just don't want you walking around like this."

You swallowed and nodded. Poe took the water and the ice pack, setting them nearby. He hooked his arms under your shoulders and lifted you gently, stabilizing you when you swayed.

"You should really get checked out," he said, frowning."

"It's okay," you rushed, stumbling back. Poe grabbed your elbow to keep you from falling.

"It's okay to need help, you know. Nobody's gonna get mad." His eyes were gentle. Your lip trembled again, and you tried to pull away. Instead, Poe pulled you into a hug.

Your sob was muffled against his sleep shirt. He shushed you, hands tracing warm circles over your back. It's okay. It's okay. You'll be okay. Don't worry.

He really did smell good, you thought groggily. Cinnamon was comforting, and you started to sag in his arms. Poe carefully laid you on the lower bunk, pulling the blanket up to your chin.

"Which do you want?" He asked, pointing to the wall. Fighting to keep your eyes open, you blinked.

"Huh?"

"Which night light? I have a bantha and R2-D2."

At your blank stare, he blushed sheepishly. "I'm scared of the dark."

You snorted and pointed to the Bantha. Poe nodded, "a respectable choice," and placed the little light next to your pillow.

He sat at the foot of your bed, pulling out a tablet. You watched him, eyes growing heavy, as he pulled up a muted holovid, his hand stroking gently on your calf. Sleep came swiftly, and you drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

You woke at noon, shuffling under a thick warmth. A familiar warm smell curled around you like a blanket. Blinking blearily, a black mass of curly hair was crammed into your shoulder. Poe's head was three inches from your chin, and he was snoring like a bear. He was laying on top of the blanets, hand fisted over your chest. He reminded you of an infant, snuggled against any source of warmth.

Ignoring the ache in your chest, you petted his head and drifted back off.

join my taglist if you want, just comment or message me! it didn't mean to become so angsty lol idk what happened

xox bye bye

[gh0stbeeee]

Random Death Note headcanons

L has a bit of an overbite, he had braces as a teenager but he never wore his retainers so it came back a little.

Misa was a little ragamuffin as a kid, she loved going outside and being messy with her hair unbrushed, but she realized she couldn't put her hair in twin tails if it was knotty so she improved her hygiene as she grew up.

Light has always wanted to grow his hair to his shoulders and part it in the middle because he thought it looked really elegant, but he never did because he was worried people would think he wasn't respectable.

Also, Light was a bit chubby when he was young. He developed an eating disorder as he grew up because of how family and other adults would comment on his body. Keep in mind this was healthy baby fat, and he is now perpetually a little underweight.

L has a ridiculous metabolism, so despite his diet he is naturally skinny and light weight. In contrast to Light, he wishes he could gain a little weight.

Misa knows Light doesn't love her. She stays with him because he became a rock in her life despite his coldness and manipulative nature, and he keeps her grounded. She is scared of independence, due to ptsd. Light isn't aware of this exact reason, but neither does he seek to know her. His optimism and confidence eases her anxiety, just as Misa's blind worship encourages him. Toxic af for eachother.

Light is on the aroace spectrum, but he never sought to experiment to find out what exactly he is. He is completely neutral to both genders, with a preference for intelligence. (Sapio.) He never learned the proper terminology for sexuality beyond hetero and homo.

L is completely ambiguous in terms of sexuality. He has attractions, but they disappear quickly and he never acts on them. He suspects he is aroace spec, but he never confirms it.

Lawlight was violently timid. Their passion for eachother was insane, but neither knew what to do with it. One minute they were kissing chastely, the next they were beating the shit out of eachother. They had sex a couple times, but they were more focused on the intimacy and mind games than the pleasure.

Misa was comphet and her obsession with Light stopped her from exploring herself (and Rem her monster girlfriend that loved her more than her life.)

Near found the HQ security footage years after the Kira case ended and to say it made his opinions of L and Light more complicated is an understatement. (I want to write this fic.) He saw L's true morality, and the endeared relationship between L and Kira. He saw innocent Light, and thought that he wasn't so bad.

[folkookie97]

❝fighting for our love❞ — jjk

— SUMMARY: ❝Jungkook always hated arguing with you. But your relationship was doomed to this habit since you rejected his wedding proposal.❞

— PAIRING: boyfriend!jungkook x girlfriend!reader

— TYPE: angst | non-idol!au, established relationship

— WORD COUNT: 585

— WARNINGS: argument, couple issues, ambiguous/open ending (?), curse words

— NOTES: maybe Seven's MV teaser drove me crazy and i wrote this shit almost crying.

— RELEASE DATE: July 13, 2023

— CROSSPOSTING: ao3, wattpad, spirit fanfics

Jungkook wasn't a contentious person. What he looked up to the most in his life was tranquility; he hated being surrounded by conflicts. Arguments stressed him out and even gave him an intense migraine. It was almost as if his head could explode at any moment. He always felt like his head would explode at any moment during these situations.

The habit of arguing with other people surely has never been present in his life. However the past few months triggered his mind with an almost masochistic habit. A sudden change in his routine accustomed him to disagreements and made him competent when he needed to defend his point of view.

Jungkook always hated arguing with you. But your relationship was doomed to this habit since you rejected his wedding proposal.

"Can you at least look at me while we're arguing?" You gestured impatiently and let the silverware fall onto your still full plate.

For the first time that night, Jungkook brought his deer-like eyes directly to the woman. Her delicate face looked so pretty with the flush on her chubby cheeks and the slightly parted lips; a consequence of your breathlessness.

You looked so fucking beautiful that Jungkook almost felt guilty for his mean behavior that night.

Just almost.

"We're not arguing. You are." He calmly sipped the wine that had been served just a few minutes before.

"You must be fucking kidding me." A bitter laugh escaped your lips as you clenched fists to refrain punching your boyfriend's face.

"I'm not." Jungkook shrugged after putting the glass of wine back on the table. "Have I ever been a bad boyfriend to my darling before?"

His rhetorical question carried such a bitter tone that it instantly made you feel nauseous.

Your stomach hurts as much as your heartbroken. Intrusive thoughts about flipping over every table and smashing every piece of the restaurant flooded your mind as you noticed a smile on Jungkook's lips.

You knew it wasn't appropriate to get angry in public. However your boyfriend's expression carried a sarcastic acidity that made you consider losing your first offender stabbing his tattooed hand.

"You're a fucking asshole."

"Seriously? I'm an asshole for not fighting with you?"

You overwhelmed by Jungkook's sadistic insolence under the curious gazes of the other customers.

"YOU'RE AN ASSHOLE FOR NOT FIGHTING FOR OUR FUCKING RELATIONSHIP!"

An absolute silence settles in the establishment as your scream comes to an end.

The mocking expression fades from Jungkook's face as the absence of sound takes over. He allows himself to stare at you with wide eyes and noticing dense tears flowing down your cheeks.

Jungkook knew he had no right to wipe away your tears when he was the one who made you cry. Despite everything the desire to comfort you in his arms never leaves his heart.

Jungkook remains seated when you curses at him in a pained whisper and walks towards the restroom. Time passes while he recalls about the past few months and regrets all his choices that brought your love to ruin.

He wished he hadn't proposed to you during a family dinner.

He wished he hadn't gotten angry when you said you weren't ready to get married yet.

He wished he had understood your reasons.

He wished he hadn't been a terrible boyfriend to you because of his wounded ego.

Jungkook wished never to argue again with the woman he loved so much.

Jungkook would fight for your love. He would fix it.

[violetmarkings]

Perfect | Kim Seungmin

Genre: Smut (18+)

Pairing: Stray Kids Seungmin x female reader

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: porn with very little plot, their relationship is kinda ambiguous in the beginning - so a fwb (?) to lovers kinda thing, Seungmin is a sex god and this mainly focused on female pleasure, so service dom seungmin x sub fem reader, edging (f rec), overstimulation (f rec), vibrator (used on f), v fingering, protected penetration, multiple orgasms (f), dirty talk, reader gets called slutty (lovingly), worship (f rec), use of the green - yellow - red safe word system, they are actually in love i swear, soft aftercare ofc, and very fluffy ending

Enjoy! 🍵

You were standing at the crossroads between love and absolute sin. And somehow, Seungmin was the bridge to both of those things at once. You counted almost five orgasms that night.

The first time, he teased and edged you through your panties, with skillful fingers. He was spooning you, his breath hot on your neck as he kissed it every once in a while, encouraging you, humming along to every sound escaping your lips; as if he was agreeing with you about how good it feels. Rubbing your pussy and clit, stopping every few seconds to make sure you don't cum too early, Seungmin was making you feel so good and so safe.

Unfortunately the edging didn't last very long because through your panties, he couldn't quite grasp how close you are. You came, relaxing into putty into his warm grasp.

"We're continuing, right?" He asked you, to make sure. Of course you were continuing. Your appetite was barely awakening, and you needed so much more from him. You were craving every single thing that you knew only Seungmin could grant you.  Nodding sheepishly at him, you turned to watch him fish out your vibrator from the drawer.

You and Seungmin had somewhat of an agreement. A mind-blowing sex agreement.

You've known him for years; worked on assignments with him, met him again at a part time job, got wasted with him a couple times, shared with him your deepest secrets. And one day you told him: that you have a fascination with certain kinks and that you wished you had someone to explore them with.

"I can do that." Is what he replied with and you didn't know if you were supposed to be laughing, crying, mortified or excited. There was definitely a spark, a connection between you and Seungmin since day one - in the idea that you had impeccable teamwork in whatever you worked at together. And he was, of course, very attractive, kind and a great person overall - when he wasn't being a menace. However, your kinks needed exactly that, for him to be a menace to you. You wanted to be edged, teased, overstimulated and tortured with pleasure until you couldn't think straight. And Seungmin took up the challenge.

So after the first orgasm, he brought out your bullet vibrator and, without even taking off your clothes, he placed it inside your panties, turned it on and pressed it onto you, making sure the panties were keeping it in place. The vibrations began to deliciously settle into your nerves, and Seungmin was moving the vibrator up and down to stimulate you as intensely as possible. The air grew hot very fast, and soon your hips were moving with a mind of their own to chase after that vibrator. You were struggling; clearly wanting it - wanting to cum again, you were craving it desperately. Seungmin was heavily amused watching you.

He made such a self discovery by volunteering to help you out. He liked it, a lot. He wasn't sure if he liked this kind of kinks in general (because he gets to tease as much as he wants) or he likes it because it's you. When he finds the courage to, he'll realize it's actually you he likes the most.

"C-cumming!" You warned him, and he was woken out of his thoughts. You orgasmed again, thighs shaking. He climbed further up your body, pulling your pants and panties down to grab the vibrator, which he pushed even tighter into your puffy clit to overstimulate you. You cried out, physically trying to fight him off with shaking, hip jerking and your nails burying into his arms. But he wasn't planning on stopping, dragging that sharp pleasure on and on, whimper after whimper sounding from you as you rolled your head on the pillow frantically.

It was so hot. Your body was so hot. Like your engines were overheating, like there was suddenly no more air to grasp onto. It was torturous, but pleasurable in unexplainable ways.

He didn't let the device slip even for one second, taking off all of your clothes with just one hand, including your shirt that was beginning to stick to your skin.

He could look at your pussy now. Really look at it, watch it twitch - the wet, leaking mess it had become. Your juices were sticking to the vibrator, making slick noises as Seungmin continued to play with you. Suddenly, he maneuvered the vibrator in his hand in such a way that it was extremely lightly grazing your clit, instead of pressing into it like it was before. It was a completely different kind of pleasure now, one that wasn't so hot and thick, it was light and ticklish, and it was replenishing your hunger for another orgasm.

"You're so slutty." Seungmin mumbled, and then he looked directly into your eyes. A pang of pleasure shot through your body at the eye contact, especially because he licked his lips. He was parched, hungry - not for food or water though, for you. His hard on was becoming uncomfortable. "I love it." He continued. "I love how slutty you are." He was still moving the vibrator up and down, very lightly rubbing your clit and letting the vibrations do the rest. His fingers were beginning to feel numb from holding it for so long. "God, look at you. So wet." You have no idea how, but he got you close to a third orgasm. "You're so sexy. I could watch you forever." He kissed your knee, your thigh, left feather light kisses on your belly. You wanted to caress him, grab him up and kiss his lips, but you were doomed to tightly grasp the bedsheets.

So close. So, so close. The pleasure sharpened and sharpened, until it finally freed you. You came again, but this time around he just helped you ride out your orgasm, body shaking and arching, legs locking around his body. Then, he turned off the vibrator. Your chest heaved, your head dizzy and ears muffled.

He moved up your body, leaving pecks on your chest, neck and then all over your face. You giggled, hand slightly shaking as you finally tangled it in his hair. You turned towards him, being met with the most beautiful, chocolate puppy eyes. They were full of admiration. He locked lips with you, in a quick but soft kiss that spoke volumes to you.

Kissing was never off of the table in your arrangement with Seungmin. Weirdly.

"Are we feeling good?" He asked you.

"Mhm." You hummed happily.

"Want more?"

"Yes, please. Need it inside." You were insatiable. You kissed Seungmin again and he couldn't help but smirk.

Crawling between your legs again, he watched your arousal leak out of your patiently waiting hole. He pushed two fingers in, curling them to chase after your gummy wall. You moaned, as if you were waiting to moan that whole night. You could finally feel it, that sweet drag inside of you. He opened you up, pushing his fingers against your walls, then began to pump them in and out, his palm slapping into your clit with every thrust. But it wasn't enough, it just wasn't. Your body was beyond sensitive, and it wanted something bigger, something more substantial.

As if he could read your mind, he got up from the bed, the loss of his fingers leaving you feeling empty. He took his clothes off and grabbed a condom, struggling to roll it around his raging hard on. He waited so patiently for this, and laughed maniacally at the string of whines and moans leaving you as he rubbed the tip of his cock against your swollen clit.

"So greedy and so eager." He teased and you nodded, biting your lip. He took that as challenge, softly fucking his tip inside of your hole. "Don't worry, I'll give you what you want and more."

It already felt heavenly when he was just fucking you with the tip. But then - then he pushed himself in deeper, and deeper. He went slow at first, dragging his hard, hot and heavy dick between your walls. You could feel him in every inch of you, in your body, in your mind, and in your soul. You were so wet, squelching so loud as he moved, that he was able to glide in you so easily, with absolutely no pain. He grabbed your hips to adjust you on his dick, lifting them in an angle.

"Help me find your spot, baby." He asked, and you shimmied your hips in his grasp, arching and angling yourself so that his dick was hitting you right where you wanted it. Like the obedient puppy he is, he began to pound into your g-spot, eventually his hand landing on your clit to rub it. Overwhelmed, your body began to burn, body shaking terribly as all of your senses overloaded. Feeling you clench so hard and shake, Seungmin slowed down, thinking you came.

"Did you come?"

"I don't know." You whined. "My body is so sensitive, I can't even think anymore." Even though you were whining and mewling, you were smiling; and so happy to be at Seungmin's mercy. You were never this intimate and vulnerable with anyone before.

"Do you want us to stop?" You definitely didn't want him to stop. He spent way too little time fucking you. Your walls were still craving the push of his cock.

"No, not yet. I'm not satisfied yet." For a second, he looked at you like you were crazy. But then a look of worry replaced it.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah." From worried, he went right back to cheeky as he heard the lust in your voice. What a demoness you were.

"My naughty princess." He whispered into your neck.

Yes, you were a little crazy to want more when your thighs were shaking with every thrust. But that's something he loved about you.

How crazy you were.

Wrapping his arms around you tightly, Seungmin spun you two around so that you'd be on top. With a sparkle of mischief in his eyes, he watched you move to find your preferred riding position, giving him a view of your body, that he found to be so beautiful, so perfect. Sweat was rolling down your sides, and that tortured and passionate look in your eyes was driving him insane.

You couldn't quite make yourself cum. You tried, riding him, hands pressing hardly into his chest, into his very heart, rubbing your clit with desperation as you moved. But it wasn't good enough, so he decided to help you by thrusting up into you. You collapsed into his chest at the pleasure, and he rolled you around again, to be on top and retake the lead. Lifting one of your legs up for better access to drill your hole, he decided it was about time to wrap up.

Like the absolute maniac he was, he grabbed the vibrator again and showed it to you.

"May I?" So courteous. It was pissing you off.

"You may - hnng!" Seungmin knew this was the most certain way to make you see stars. It took a couple of seconds, too. All he had to do was thrust a couple of times, let the vibrator go wild on your clit and you were convulsing, screaming, clawing at him.

He kept going through your orgasm, chasing after his own high while you were in hyper-drive, clenching so tight around him your pussy might as well swallow him whole.

"Color?"

"Ah, yellow-!" It was a simple system, really. Green meant go, yellow meant it was almost too much, and red meant stop.

"Can I finish and wrap up?" As if you were crazy enough to ask for another one after all this. But even if you did, he wouldn't agree to it. Yellow is enough for him to stop - he doesn't ever want to hear red come out of your mouth. Thankfully, you agreed to end it.

And finally, you milked him dry. He came into the condom with a grunt, stopping the vibrator and stuttering his hips into you. You both breathed hard, one more spent than the other. You've always been impressed by Seungmin's ability to not cum unless when he intends to - how even in the world does he withstand it?

After he caught his breath, he pulled out and went to clean up and throw away the messy condom. He came back to pick you in his arms, carrying your naked body to the bathroom where he gently cleaned you up and allowed you to empty your bladder and untangle your hair.

When you came back , he already tidied the room and organized a cozy spot for you on the bed where he could wrap you in blankets and cradle you in his arms.

"How are we feeling?" He asked again, and you grew so, so fond of this sentence.

"Perfect." You reply, smiling at him, and he grins back. He's radiating happiness, and if you're not wrong, he's never smiled like this around anyone else but you. "Can we become official tomorrow?" You mumbled into his chest, and his heart didn't skip a beat, it skipped multiple.

"Are you serious? D-do... You wanna be my girlfriend?" Finally. Finally he could be allowed, to love you so deep, in such a disgustingly shameless way like he desired. He hoped he wasn't dreaming, and that his sex goddess was actually, really going to become his.

"Yes." You reply, booping his nose with your finger.

"I would love nothing more." Yes, yes, and a million more times yes. Can you even begin to imagine how happy you're making him?

"Perfect." You say back, kissing him briefly before burying your face in his naked chest.

"Perfect." He copies you, leaving tiny kisses on your hair. "You're perfect."

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©violetmarkings do not copy or repost

[tea-space]

THE HUNGER GAMES THE BALLAD OF SONGBIRDS AND SNAKES MOVIE SPOILERS

So I watched the TBOSAS movie today & I have thoughts. It is good as its own thing I think they did a great job to put the most important things into this one movie. Since they couldn't squeeze everything in the movie it took some liberties to cut off & change moments around a bit.

I think the changes they made to how the 10th hunger games play out was a great change. And I loved that they kept the violence.

The movie didn't show any of Coriolanus inner monologues which is a shame it's my favorite part of the book but having the audience come out and interpret how Coryo feels themselves isn't so bad either since Tom Blyth's portrayal as Coriolanus snow was magnificent.

The movie focused more on Coriolanus relationship with the prominent characters & sadly cut a lot of interactions with his other classmates. Especially Clemensia we don't hear or see her again after she gets the snake bite or even if she's still alive.

The chemistry between Tom Blyth & Rachel Zelger was amazing it really shines through to their character's relationship. Regarding the snowbaird relationship they added a new moment that wasn't in the book replacing a scene in the book. We got only one kiss from them in the movie contrary to the many kisses in the book.

The last part in the forest cabin between Coriolanus & Lucy Gray felt really tense like they were about to kill each other right there & then I loved it. Tom Blyth's performance really shined through this part, the hurt & betrayal he felt after he got bit made him look scary.

The fate of Lucy Gray was left as ambiguous as it was in the book. But we clearly get to see Coriolanus shoot her down but nothing more other than the birds singing the hanging tree which paranoid him. I wished they addressed the part where they erased the records of the 10th hunger games but it wasn't mentioned.

The ending showing Coriolanus full transformation to a villain was chilling I can really feel he carried a different vibe then what he was like in the beginning of the movie.

Overall a great film to show the beginning of the hunger games & how it developed to what we know it as down the line. A villain origin story showcasing how Coriolanus experiences shape him & how he rose to power. Like Coriolanus said snow lands on top.

[froggibus]

once again no pressure or rush!!!! but could you maybe do either ashe or sombra smut with a gn/trans masc reader? they're both so pretty and i love them aaaaa

ps: make sure to drink water and do self care!!!!!!!!

-🐕💕

Ride Em' Cowgirl - Ashe

Pairing: soft dom! Ashe x gn! reader

Genre: smut/nsfw

Word Count: 1k

Summary: ashe won't let you cum until she gets to ride your perfect, perfect face

CW: bondage, soft dom! Ashe, gn! reader, oral, face sitting, slight suffocation, Ashe calls reader ‘buttercup’, abrupt ambiguous ending, pure smut no plot

hey puppy anon! so sorry it took me so long to get to this one! i was really excited to write some ashe on this blog but i've yet to try writing a trans reader & wasn't sure how to navigate it! (if you have any tips i will gladly take them! i just didn't wanna accidentally trigger someone) i would love to write some more ashe in the future if you have any ideas! hope you're doing well ^^ also it is CRIMINAL we don't have an ashe comic yet

“Well,” Ashe coos, her usual Southern drawl thick with lust, “don’t you look good enough to eat?”

Your body heats in response, sending a thousand volts of electricity through every nerve in your body. You squirm from where you lay on the bed, straining your wrists against the soft silk ties that bind your hands to the bed frame.

She drags a long, manicured nail up your thigh. The motion is soft but deadly, just enough pressure applied to make it sting, but never enough to actually wound you. Your teary eyes stay glued to the red of her nails as they drag up your leg, landing dangerously close to the line of your underwear. 

A small, desperate whimper slips from your lips and you find yourself wishing your hands weren’t bound so you could hide your embarrassment in your palms. Ashe chuckles, the sound so foreign from her usual lighthearted, teasing laugh that it sends a shiver down your spine.

You swallow thickly. “A-ashe.”

Red eyes meet yours through a mess of dark lashes and eyeliner. She hums in response, staring through you as she waits for what you have to say next. Her gaze is piercing, shrinking—making you feel small in that delicious way only she can.

“I need you,” you say softly, surprising even yourself by the meekness of your own voice. “Please,” you add.

She considers this, tapping her chin as if in deep thought. You wait with not a breath in your body, trying to exercise patience despite the aching between your legs. Though she always takes such good care of you in the end, sometimes she can be the absolutely cruellest on the journey there, and you have little patience left.

She sighs, as if she’s just made the hardest decision of her life. “You take good care of me,” she states, a devilish smirk on her lips, “and I’ll take good care of you.”

You nod eagerly, shifting through your restraints to slide further down the bed. You watch her through hooded, lust filled eyes as she slowly slips out of the black, lacy panties that cover her glistening pussy. The dark fabric sticks to her core from the wet of her own slick and a gasp leaves her lips as they detach and drop to the floor to pool at her ankles.

You swallow once more, wetting your lips with your tongue in anticipation as she stalks her way over to where you lay helplessly on the bed. She reaches over, cupping your face with her hands, and presses a hot, needy kiss to your lips.

You lose yourself against her, whining into her mouth and smearing her perfect red lipstick all over the both of you. She drags a nail down your cheek, running it along the length of your jaw. Her familiar taste of warm honey and sweet whisky floods your mouth, reacting like pure alcohol in your bloodstream.

She pulls away, a sloppy string of saliva falling from her mouth and sticking to your skin. You’re given only a minute to catch your breath before she’s straddling your chest, sliding back until her soaking, sweet pussy is hovering an inch above your face.

You don’t need her to tell you what she wants, you’ve been in this position often enough. You strain against your binds, lifting your head enough to prod at her clit with your nose. She moans at the contact, lowering her hips even more so her cunt just barely sits on your lips.

You dive in, lapping up her hot slick like it’s the only thing you’ve ever tasted. You swirl your tongue in figure eights around her sensitive clit, dragging it down to your throbbing entrance, and repeating the motion again. Despite the way her thighs muffle your ears, you can hear her panting above you, hear the moans that slip from her lips.

“Fuck.” She groans, voice barely more than a purr. “S’like you were made for eating pussy, buttercup.”

She digs her cunt further into your face, pressing down so hard you can barely manage a breath between your laps around her folds. Heat flares in your core at her words and you clench your thighs together in an attempt to get any sort of relief, any sort of friction.

Ashe rolls her hips across your face, digging her fingers through her silky white hair as she rides your lips to orgasm. Each flick of your tongue and each hot breath taken when she lets you up for air only spurs her closer and closer to the edge. She almost finds herself wishing your hands were free, if only so you could thrust them into her cunt and curl them into that sweet spot inside of her.

“That’s it,” she says through shaky breaths. “So good for me, chokin’ on my cunt. Fuck.”

You choke, the warmth of her pussy pressed so tight against your face you can’t possibly breathe. Still, you love it. You shut your eyes tightly and nuzzle further between her legs, taking every thrust and bounce of her hips in stride and using it as leverage to further shove your tongue into her core.

Her thighs tighten around your face, squishing your cheeks until it almost hurts, and then she’s gushing on your face. Wave after wave of sweet slick gushes onto you, soaking your lips and nose and chin and neck. You drink it all up, sucking at her entrance as she comes undone around you.

Finally, her thighs relax and she lets herself roll off of you, sweet air hitting your lungs at last. You gasp for it, drinking up the oxygen almost as greedily as you drank up her cum. Your skin feels impossibly hot, the cold air of the room like pin pricks against your post pussy-eating flush.

She props herself up on shaking thighs and pulls you in for another devouring kiss. Her tongue pops into your mouth, swirling around and tasting herself on your gums. She moans into the kiss, whether at the taste or at the way you wrestle her tongue against hers, you’ll never know.

She pulls back, red eyes peering into yours so intensely you almost forget how to breathe. Her hand trails down your bare stomach, nails just barely dipping into your underwear. “Now,” she says, mischief glowing in her eyes, “my turn to take care of you.”

You gulp, a shiver trailing up your spine in anticipation. You strain against the restraints and wonder what the hell you’ve gotten yourself into. 

masterlist | overwatch masterlist

(if you enjoy content like this, interactions go a long way! comments, likes & rbs are always greatly appreciated ^-^ !!)

[bakuhatsufallinlove]

Okay, we gotta talk about how these images were set to these lyrics.

When SKETCH first came out, lots of fan translations were floating around and getting analyzed. I have my own translation and interpretations of the song that I wanna share, at least of these five lines.

The lyrics of the chorus, which are sung as we pan over these two images, are as follows:

「居なくならないでね」

「君こそね」

能天気に約束して肩を叩く

きまってどちらかが破るのさ

今回もまた僕じゃなかっただけ

My translation would be:

-

"Don't you disappear on me, okay?"

"Not you."

Promises made in a carefree way with a pat on the shoulder.

Which of them will break, like they always do?

This time, too, it wasn't just me.

-

The first two lines are in quotations, and in my mind, they are both spoken by the subject of the song (Izuku), not the singer (Katsuki). There is some ambiguity with the use of koso (こそ), which emphasizes the word before it, often in the sense of "definitely," "for sure," or "specifically because it's [blank]." Koso is used in a lot of ways, though, sometimes as a rebuttal of sorts--

Person A: どう？ 考えは？ (Well? What do you think?)

Person B: 君こそ教えるよ (You tell me first!)

So, there is a possibility that these two lines are actually an exchange:

A: "Don't disappear on me, okay?"

B: "Hey, speak for yourself." (You're the one who might disappear.)

This would be a promise made between the two of them. You won't disappear, and neither will I.

Both lines have ne (ね) at the end, which to me suggests the speaker of the first line is continuing their train of thought, in the sense of saying "you know? ...because like, ... right?"

Inakunara (居なくなら) means to disappear, to go away, to leave, to stop existing. This line is saying, don't leave me, don't go away, don't disappear from my life. I see these lines as Izuku, the sweet little nerd, casually, lightheartedly saying, "Kacchan, don't go off and leave me, okay? Because it's you, you know? Never you." And whether Katsuki verbally reciprocates the promise or not, the feeling behind it is mutual.

The verb used for break in the fourth line is yaburu (破る). (Fun fact: The kanji used to write yaburu is the same kanji used for Katsuki's Quirk name, Bakuha: 爆破.) This is not the word you would usually use for things like "that broke his heart" or "they broke the table," which is kowasu (壊す); the meanings overlap, but yaburu is also used for broken promises.

This makes the fifth line sound like, "This time it wasn't just me who broke this promise and disappeared--you did, too."

Which... sounds a lot like Katsuki saying, "I ran away, I tried to keep you at a distance. But you are putting yourself in danger again and again--now it's you who's leaving me."

Those carefree, loving lyrics of the first three lines pan over the image of little Katsuki smiling at little Izuku. The last two lines pan over Katsuki now, reaching for little Izuku's hand as he wishes he did all those years ago. Katsuki is desperate for Izuku to not disappear, to not break that promise--but one way or another, the promise will be broken, because without a thought he chooses to give his life to save Izuku's.

Not you.

[pellaaearien]

Pell I would LOVE to see a perspective flip for Mieux Aimé of Dream working himself up to present Hob with that single beautiful undying rose

@arialerendeair you are both wonderful <3 The fact that you remember a one-off fic I wrote back in February means it's VALENTINES IN SEPTEMBER, Y'ALL!

Partie Deux

There are roses everywhere in the Dreaming.

It is Valentine's Day in the Waking world, as Dream reminds Lucienne, who keeps sending him ever more pointed looks. It is to be expected.

"Of course, my lord," she says, conciliatory. Allowing him his foibles. Valentine's Day, in its modern form, is a far more widespread observance than it had been before his imprisonment. It is as good an explanation as any.

Lucienne, of course, knows better.

"Is it the dreamers who are preoccupied?" she asks, finally, on the thirteenth of February in Waking time. "Or you?"

He has no answer for her.

Under normal circumstances, he would not allow even his loyal librarian to speak to him thus. But the circumstances are far from normal.

The Lord of Dreams is courting a human. A human who might reasonably expect his lover to mark occasions such as these.

(Christmas just past had been spent in the warmth of Hob's flat, with the sweet smell of baked goods and the soft glow of fairy lights adding to the ambiance of their lovemaking. It is a memory that shines brightly for Dream. Valentine's Day is, however, a far less ambiguously romantic holiday, and Dream is unsure of the protocol.)

"Have you spoken to him?" Lucienne presses further, finding, as always, the heart of the matter.

"We have. Spoken of it," Dream answers. It is the truth. Hob has told him about his plans for decorating the New Inn, "keeping it tasteful," as he says, "so those who aren't interested can still enjoy it."

He has given no indication as to whether he himself might be interested.

"Go to him," Lucienne urges. The days leading up to the fourteenth had in fact been inordinately busy, with stress dreams taking over a large portion of the subconscious. It has not done anything for Dream's mood.

"The work-" Dream begins.

"The work is well in hand," she says. "The dreams are well practised and have their assigned roles. I am certain there will be nothing so dire it requires your direct attention, my lord. Go. Even if he has no wish to celebrate, you cannot believe he will turn you away at the door?"

No, Hob will not turn him away, Dream knows. (The knowing was hard-won, and is yet a fragile, wondrous thing.) But Dream has been mindful that he must not impose upon such extraordinary hospitality. Must not presume upon Hob's affections.

Perhaps if he brought a gift...? Or would that be presuming yet further?

In the end, he selects a single bloom, a solitary rose that had dared to bloom upon the arm of his throne. He thinks, as he does so, of the rose he had so absentmindedly brought almost to the door of their 1589 meeting, before thinking better of it. Would aught have been different, if he had? He is not Destiny, and cannot know. This rose will have to suffice.

He cannot quite bring himself to manifest directly in Hob's flat as he usually might. For the first time, he seeks the dubious comfort of the threshold: to be ejected, he thinks, would be a far greater pain than to be turned away.

It takes several eternities, or five Waking minutes, to gather the courage to knock.

Once he has done so, he is no longer in control of events. The noise of the film from inside shuts off, and he hears Hob's plodding footsteps approaching the door. The heart he does not have is in his throat, obstructing the breath he does not need, as he waits for Hob to appear. For his fate to be decided.

Hob's expression, when the door finally opens, is confusion, which quickly morphs to surprise upon seeing Dream.

"Dearling, come in," he says, welcome given as unhesitatingly as ever. Dearling, sweeting, lykyng, culver. Endearments from the time when Hob was young. Such things he calls Dream. "I wasn't expecting..."

He fails to finish the sentence, but has brought Dream into his home. Dream ought to explain his presence.

"I had thought. This day. Is for lovers," he says at last. Lovers, at least, they surely are. Perhaps Dream might be forgiven, if he is mistaken.

Hob slips his hand around the one of Dream's that is holding the rose. Even if the bloom were a Waking bloom, and capable of harming him, it would not have the opportunity to, by virtue of how gently Hob is holding him. Hob's other hand slips into its favoured position at the nape of Dream's neck, and he feels the last of the tension he has been unknowingly carrying dissipate under the weight of sense memory, of all the wondrous times Hob has held him like this. Hob presses their foreheads together, and Dream takes unnecessary breaths of Hob's human scent; of age, old books, woodsmoke, sweat, and the strength of earth.

Dream should not find the smell of humanity comforting. But it soothes him more than anything he has ever known.

"Hey, sweetheart," Hob says, and Dream shivers, to know that he is welcome. Is wanted. Is loved. "I'm so glad you're here."

[lizinthebox]

Work it Out

Pairing: Hoshi x Fem Reader

CW: Hoshi is TOXIC, oral (f. receiving), rough sex, jealous sex, a little edging, degradation, unprotected sex (don't do this), pull out method (don't do this either), a little praise but in a mean way, ambiguous ending

A/N : as always this was not proofread at all, this is the 3rd post of my ot13 series (not being posted in age order), please reblog if you enjoy it! my internet is out rn so i apologize for formatting issues :/ i wanted to get this out today! next part hopefully out tmrw :)

W/C: 1.3k

Your back slammed against the wall behind you. Hoshi's rough hands groping your body without any thought. Between gasps and pleading moans, you question how you even got in this position. One minute you were walking into the club with your friends, all of you finding your own arm-candy for the night. the next minute you were making eye contact with your ex from across the crowded club. You couldn't believe you just happened to end up at the same club as Hoshi barely two weeks after you broke up. You tried to enjoy dancing with the stranger you just introduced yourself to, but all you could focus on were Hoshi's eyes burning through you. You hadn't even been at the club for an hour when he finally made a move on you. He didn’t even speak, just pulled you away from the guy you were with, and you let him. You didn't know what his plan was, but you knew you were in no position to stop him.

Now here you are, desperately gasping for air while your ex-boyfriend makes a mess out of you. His kisses are so rough it almost hurts, but you’re too focused on your aching cunt to care. Your mind is so clouded with lust for him, you can't even remember why you broke up. In this moment, you wish you never had. "Hoshi, please," you choke out when his lips finally break from yours. You're not quite sure what you’re begging for, but these are the only words you can form right now.

“You think you can just go to the club and act like a fucking whore now that we broke up?” he asks, his words hurting your feelings in a way that makes a puddle in your underwear. "Is fucking a stranger gonna make you feel better?" he challenges, clearly overwhelmed with jealousy and lust.

“I-I wasn't gonna fuck him, I was just—“ you're cut off by Hoshi's hand sliding into your panties, quickly finding your clit and circling around it. Your legs instinctively open for him. making him chuckle at how desperate you are for him. He lets one of his legs slide between

yours and you moan at the feeling of his hard cock against your thigh. “Oh my god," your breath hitches in your throat when he suddenly slides two fingers deep inside you.

"You think he could've made you feel this good?" Hoshi asks, looking dead in your eyes

as he starts to pump in and out of you. Him questioning you is somehow making you even more wet, loving the way he wants you to only belong to him. Hoshi was always territorial about you, maybe too much, but right now it's the hottest thing in the world.

“No—he couldn't, he couldn't." you give him what he wants, assurance that nobody could

ever make you as wet as he can or make you cum as hard as he can. You knew you had no

intention of sleeping with that guy from the club, but now you're so glad you let Hoshi steal you away from him. Hoshi takes his hands away from your core to rip your black top off your body, making you moan because you never wanted him to stop.

He finally lets you two leave the doorway of his apartment, pulling you toward his

bedroom by the hips. Once you get to his room, he pushes you down onto the bed, sliding your skirt off before you can even notice. He's on his knees at the edge of the bed, looking at you like you're the hottest thing he's ever seen. "So wet for me, I thought you were done with me," he says as he spreads your legs in front of him.

"I'll never be done with you, you respond, half trying to urge him to finally put his mouth on you, half meaning every word. You’re successful and he lets his mouth connect with your heat, licking every drop of your arousal off of you. All you can do is grip his sheets and throw your head back, overcome with pleasure. You feel like you might already cum as he works his tongue around your clit, holding your legs open so you don't crush him. "Baby I'm so close don't stop." you plead, feeling the tension in your stomach getting close to snapping. Right when you’re about to go over the edge, he stops. “What the fuck?" you whine, sounding needier than you intended.

“You think I'm gonna let you finish that easily? You cum when I let you," he snarks at you, pulling your hips to the edge of the bed to align them with his waist. He's so mean, you weren't even trying to make him mad by going to the club, you just wanted to have fun and forget about your heart hurting. Now you're being punished for even daring to think of anyone other than him. Your pussy is throbbing at this point, needing Hoshi to just fuck you already. Hoshi finally pulls his cock out and you push your hips up against him, spreading your slick all over his shaft. "Stop being a brat." he comments at your neediness. Finally, he rubs his tip between your folds, softly hitting your clit each time, making you bite back moans.

Your mouth falls open, hands reaching for Hoshi's chest to slow him down as he quickly presses himself into you. You push against his chest with one hand as the other reaches down for your clit. He stops you before you can even reach yourself.

"It's my turn to touch you, " he reminds you, taking your wandering hand in his own and pushing it onto the bed over your head. His words make you regret ever dancing with that other guy, the second you saw Hoshi you should ve gone over to him, gotten yourself into his bed faster. He speeds up his thrusts, the friction making your walls burn with pain and pleasure. “See how well you take my cock, baby? Better than anyone else," his words are almost sweet, reminding you how well you two fit together.

You feel the tightness in your stomach growing again, knowing you can't last much longer with how hard he's hitting your sweet spot. "Hoshi, please— please let me cum," you beg, tears welling in your eyes from the stimulation. When he untangles his hand from yours and reaches down to circle your clit, you know you’re done for.

“Cum for me baby, cum all over my cock,” he finally gives you what you want. Your now

freed hand grips his sheets so hard your knuckles turn white. You completely let go, your legs shaking and back arching off the bed. You don't even notice Hoshi's strokes getting sloppier as he fucks you through your high. He's pulling his cock out of you and letting his cum shoot all over your stomach before you can even realize what's happening. His grunts and your pants mix to fill the room with the dirtiest sounds. Both of your chests are heaving, so fucked out that all you can do is wait until you catch your breath.

Once you both finally come back to your senses, Hoshi leans down to kiss your head. It's like his persona from the last 2 hours is completely gone. He looks more like the boyfriend you used to have, who would sweetly make love to you, not the new ex-boyfriend who just wanted to see you stuffed with his cock again. Your lips join with his, sweat almost dripping from his forehead. “Stay the night, yea?" he asks, and you ve never turned down that invitation, especially not tonight.

[yanderes-galore]

Here's my first request. It's a normal request for a scenario with Death from Puss in Boots.

Some time ago, we talked about the idea of ​​a cat reader taking Puss in Boots' place after the former's death, so let me refresh your memory. This is a Puss in Boots AU that takes place after The Last Wish. Many years later, Puss finally passed away, but that doesn't mean the legend is over. After the burial, another cat, a big fan of the original Puss, picks a hat, a sword and a pair of boots for themselves and goes on adventures like the original. The reader soon becomes a hero who is not afraid to put their life in danger to save innocent people. What makes this cat different from the original is that the new puss doesn't waste their lives and acts arrogantly. But, unfortunately, they have already lost three or four lives while helping people (either because they were killed in fights or due to an accident). So, the cat's desire to follow the legacy of the previous PIB and their respect for their lives (unlike the original) ends up catching the attention of a certain white wolf.

To make things less confusing when mentioning the cats, i think it would be a good idea to use Puss in Boots (his name) for the original and puss in boots (which is now just a title) for the new one.

I'll see what I can do! Intentions are left ambiguous/can be seen as either romantic or platonic. This wasn't very intense for my plot... so my bad :( I hope you still liked it though!

Copycat

Yandere! Death Oneshot

Pairing: Romantic/Platonic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Stalking, Manipulation, Some sadism, Soft yandere Death, Kidnapping (Technically), Dubious companionship.

Death never really liked cats. They always took life for granted in his eyes. All because they have nine lives they think they're untouchable.

Death has quickly proven such felines wrong... especially a certain orange cat. He was happy Puss in Boots finally learned to take care of himself near the end of his career. But eventually... the wolf claimed him too.

He thought that would be the last time he even heard the title of 'Puss in Boots'. The cat is dead and it's been years. His title is merely a legend.

But as Death watches the world of the living... he notices that name being thrown around again. The wolf had to make sure he was hearing things correctly when he picked up on the words. "Puss in Boots reborn" the people echo... so he checked things out.

Sure enough, another foolish feline has fallen for the legend. That's what Death sighed about as he watched you, a young cat, playing hero in a hat and boots, with a sword in your paws.

Deciding to keep a keen eye on you to see if you'd show arrogance... Death was surprised when you showed none of it. You treated every life you had with care... saving those around you and adventuring. It admittedly eased Death a little bit that he wouldn't have a repeat of your predecessor.

Soon Death realized he wouldn't just be watching you from a distance. Adventuring and saving others puts heroes in danger. Sometimes...

Sometimes heroes even meet a few close calls with Death himself.

Death recalls the first time he met you, the newest little Copycat. You looked so scared when he approached you, the wolf stalking over to you slowly. He really loved your fear... but now was not your time.

"Quite the little outfit you've got..." The wolf whispers. "You remind me of an old friend... but this is only your first life lost, cat."

It's then he releases you, allowing you to use your first life. You're down to eight and still doing your usual activities with care. Death admittedly found himself attached... often watching you as you save other souls.

Such a kind cat... much different from the usual troublesome felines.

Of course, as nature with your little job, you'd eventually meet Death again. Quite a few times, actually. Death liked every single one of your meetings.

He always said you lost your lives for a good cause. He appreciated that quality of yours. He only ever found himself looking forward to the day he eventually takes you for himself.

As for most, there was no way to keep Death away forever. Every meeting... every time he watched you live your life... he thought of the time he'd eventually take you away. You wouldn't like it... he knows it...

But he hopes to keep you as a companion... a reminder that cats can prove themselves.

Your lives tick down like the sand in an hourglass. Over time Death continues to meet you. His grin is wider the more accidents and lives pass.

5...

4...

3...

2...

1...

Upon your last life you feel it is time to retire. While the wolf... Death... acted as an old friend... he would become an enemy soon. You didn't want to depart from your life quite yet...

But that wasn't your decision... it never truly was...

Death was always the one who let you live.

Even if you ran and tried to postpone meeting your maker, Death would always follow. You can hear him call out to you, a whistle accompanying him. The wolf always chuckled when he saw your fear.

Truthfully... you shouldn't be scared. The wolf would never hurt you unless you fought him. He can peacefully take you to the afterlife.

You just need to stop fighting him.

He guessed it was natural you fought him. Your predecessor fought with him too. Yet... he thought you were better than that.

Your fight to keep your remaining life would end soon. Your paranoia leads to another accident. Your lives going from one to zero in an instant.

Leading to Death standing over you, a grin on his face as piercing red eyes stare into you.

"You should really consider me a friend, cat..." He whispers, leaning down to look at you. "I've helped you this far... but you were going to come back with me eventually."

"I'm not ready yet..." You whispers, Death rolling his eyes.

"Trust me... you are. In the end... this is meant to be. You belong with me." The wolf scoops you up, a sadistic grin on his face. "The wait was worth it... the chase was fun..."

The wolf begins to walk away with you, the prize he's wanted all along. He feels you struggle but shakes his head. It was inevitable...

"But it's time to take you back where you belong, Copycat. I'll take good care of you in your new home."

[darlington-v]

ok serious posting time now i think

let me lay down for this (i am laying down)

i am overwhelmed with emotion that jon says like "maybe everything works out, and we end up somewhere else" after telling martin to kill him

because like. like it doesn't work out. they end up somewhere else, but with the knowledge you have as the viewer with tmagp coming out, we know it doesn't work out.

they don't even get like to rest, like they don't get to die. like the note that tma leaves jon and martin on is doomed. and like... without tmagp, it could have been more hopeful, had you chosen to believe that?

like their ending is still so horrifically tragic, but tma pre-tmagp, jon's statement of hope was ambiguous and could be pursued, it could still be hopeful.

ROCKS BACK AND FORTH. BUT WE HAVE TMAGP. AND WHILE... SURE, WE DON'T EXACTLY KNOW THEIR FATES, BUT WE KNOW THAT JON AND MARTIN DID NOT ESCAPE THIS NARRATIVE.

SO NOW IT CANNOT BE A HOPEFUL STATEMENT. NOW, WE, THE AUDIENCE, KNOWS THE FUTILITY OF JON EVEN TRYING TO HAVE HOPE FOR THE TWO OF THEM FOR EVEN A SECOND? like I CANNOT. i cant even articulate it because it's more about whats not happening??? its about the potential? the hope of it all??

LIKE HOW CAN I EXPLAIN THE SHRIMP EMOTIONS THIS LIKE GAP???? GIVES ME??? THE LIKE. GAP BETWEEN WHAT JON SAYS AND WHAT WE KNOW HAPPENS NEXT. ITS NOT "MAYBE IT ALL WORKS OUT." THATS FOR DAMN SURE

and like ik... like maybe it DOES work out in tmagp.

but like... bare with me here, meld ur mind with me. theres a lot of tragedy in that moment and the moment that follows because the characters have no idea what immediately comes next, but we do know what comes immediately after? which is NOT an escape from the narrative. like even if it could work out for them within tmagp, it doesn't take away from the deep ache of knowing how far they still have to go? that it isn't okay, that wherever they went, it wasn't them being "okay."

this is really surface level, i dont have anything insightful to say it just made me cry. like i was very emotionally overwhelmed at the fact that the one time jon actively put effort into being hopeful, like idealistically so, that like maybe he even let himself want and hope and mean what he said, that it was a futile wish.

like... jon's hope juxtaposed by the hopelessness of the narrative got me man. the Dramatic Irony of it all really fucking got my ass.