#i wrote this all in one sitting

[naivegh0ul]

that post about ghost being into you ignoring him,,

I thirst for more

the brainrot is reeeeaaal ughhh

I wanna cockwarm him but instead of grinding and whining and complaining that I want him to fill me so good like I usually do I wanna just sit there and actually cockwarm him, pretend he isn’t there, go on my phone and maybe respond to all the guys in my DMs right in front of him, maybe linger on one dick pick from some rando just to rile him up and watch out of the corner of my eye as his twitches in frustration, but he won’t say anything about it :(( I wanna be sitting in the living room on the couch all sweet and pretty and have him come up to me and try to grind on me or get me to touch him but all I’ll do is lay there and read my book or watch my show, pull my hands out of his when he tries to pull them towards his cock for me to stroke him :(( he’d be so mad and pent up after probably only a day, and when he does get to slip his cock into my tight hole?? baby I’d pretend I couldn’t feel anything and start reading some yummy smut while he ruts into me :(( but it’s okay bc he likes it and it gets him off and makes him try harder to please me, so it’s a win-win!!

YESSS you get me this is exactly what I was thinking.

He thinks that if he gets you in his lap and stuffs you full of his cock, he'll get a reaction. Maybe have you squirming and whining. But you just sit there, on that stupid little phone of yours.

And god, if you even dare start looking at some other guy's dick pics? He gets so mad, hands balling into fists and his eyebrow twitching in annoyance. He knows he should control himself, at least on the outside.

On the inside, he's fuming. He's picturing kicking that guy's ass, beating him to a pulp and then sending you a photo of his limp, unconscious body. Just the thought of it gets his cock twitching inside you, has him groaning and bucking his hips up into you.

You're so right about sitting and looking all pretty on the couch for him. In your cute little pyjamas, book in hand as you smile and get butterflies from what's happening in the story. You haven't look up from your book in ages (it's been 10 minutes) and he really wants you right now.

He tries so hard to get your attention, pulling out all the stops. He spreads his thighs, rubbing them lightly as he groans and shifts his hips. No response. So he tries something a little more hands on, shuffling closer to run his hands along your torso and chest. Still, no response.

When he tries to grab your hand to pull it away from the book, you let him; teasing him a little, leading him on. You let him pull your hand towards his crotch, his sweats tented from where his cock is hard and leaking but you don't let him put your hand on it, simply pulling your hand back and flipping the page nonchalantly.

Once this goes on for longer than a day, and you're denying him what he wants, he gets really annoyed. He's walking around the house with a permanent hard-on, sometimes waking up to find himself grinding against your ass.

It's torture and he loves it.

When he finally manages to get his hands on you, it's over for him. He's cumming before he's even fully inside you, just the tip pressed into your hole as he moans and throws his head back. You don't care, acting as if you can't feel Ghost's thick cock stretching you out and twitching inside you as he cums.

And Ghost is determined to make you react. Anything, a shaky sigh, a tiny moan, anything. Just something to show that, yes, he does affect you. His balls slapping against your ass does affect you.

He does affect you - he does have you fingering yourself in the bathroom when he goes to bed because you're so pent up from not letting Ghost touch you - but he doesn't know that. To him, you're completely fine. You don't care when he bottoms out and cums again, choosing to rut against your ass slowly so he doesn't shoot his load for the third time.

Don't even think about pulling up some smut on your phone because that will be his last straw. As much as he absolutely loves being ignored, loves seeing your bored little expression as he fingers you open, he wants you to react. He needs you to react.

So that phone is being tossed onto the carpeted floor and you're being flipped onto your back, your legs slung over Ghost's shoulders as he puts you into a mating press and enters you again, leaning down so you're face to face and Ghost can watch the minute details of your expression, checking to see if your eyebrows furrow a little or if your eyes cloud over and your lips part.

[fabbyf1]

It Ain't My Fault (That I'm Out Here Gettin' Loose)

“You’d look much better in navy,” Max said, wiggling his eyebrows. 

And... huh. 

It wasn’t the first time Max had made that joke, but something about it now was different. Maybe it was because he was coming down from his orgasm, or because they were in Austria, or... perhaps it was because he just really loved Max. 

But he found himself saying, “Okay.”

OR: The one where a blowjob turns into a life-altering decision. It was always going to happen in Austria.

Part VI of The Warming Verse.

Charles Leclerc/Max Verstappen | 7.2k | Read on AO3

moodboard 📸 created by the beautiful @simplysimplylovely

[lilacthebooklover]

the new crk update got me bad

[lgcsujin]

Violet Flames - A SHORT STORY (wc: 470)

Many thought the world would end with a plague, or a war. Nobody anticipated for shadowy monsters to emerge from a crack in the sky. After giving up on trying to hide the situation from panicking civilians or explaining how the crack could have happened in the first place, governments focused their efforts on defeating these creatures. Specialty weapons were developed, and all young people capable of fighting were summoned to the fields. However, none of the human made weapons worked as well as the violet flames.

Around the time when the monsters appeared, so did a small group of people. They revealed themselves to be members of an elusive clan born to protect the world and demonstrated their unique ability to produce a bright purple fire in the palm of their hands. A monster that would normally drop at twenty shots to the head could be reduced to ashes by a single swirl of the violet flame. It was an incredible power, but also costly - the violet flame drained its users of their life force with every strike and many would fall dead mid-battle without any warning signs.

Thus people bowed their heads whenever they saw a user of the violet flame, showing respect to the clan of heroes that literally battled with their lives for humanity's future.

Sixty years had passed since the initial appearance of the shadow monsters and for the most part, the threat had been eliminated. The last devastating battle was ten years ago, finished by one of the strongest violet flame users of the clan. Instead of being praised as a hero like the rest of his people, however, Hyun Insoo was put to trial immediately after the battle. See, unlike the others of his clan, Insoo had the ability to draw life force from other people. On that day, he saved a city from ruin, but also ended the lives of several innocent civilians.

The situation caused great controversy and people had varying opinions as to what should be done with him. In the end, despite the pressure she faced, the clan's leader chose to preserve Hyun Insoo's life in exchange for his vow to never step a foot outside of the clan because of the risk he posed.

Hyun Insoo honored his promise and lived a perfectly normal life. He started a family and was happy with his wife and daughter. Then, several nights ago, when Insoo returned home after a long day of work, he discovered his wife dead and his child missing. He stepped outside of the clan for the first time in ten years to find his daughter and became the most wanted man in the world. Many were afraid - This was a person who could kill without touch and start a wild fire that would never cease spreading.

SHORT STORY CHARACTERS (wc: 364)

Hyun Insoo, mid 40s - 45/46ish (main)

Talented, protective and fearless, Hyun Insoo was well respected and admired in his youth by his clans people. He prayed for a safe world and thought constantly of the future. On the day of the final difficult battle, he made the decision to eliminate the threat of shadow monsters once and for all. He thought about those that he had sacrificed daily and often seized up with guilt. However, if the exact situation was to be presented to him again, Insoo was certain he'd choose the same. People called him a monster for what he had done. A part of him was sick of being called that, while the other part understood. His wife and daughter were his moon and stars. Without them, his heart felt dark and empty like the night sky. Whoever did this probably did it to lure him out of the clan. Insoo was aware, he simply no longer cared.

Hyun Kyungin, 24 (lead)

The next-in-line leader of the clan and Insoo's nephew. He was every bit as talented as his uncle when it came to his ability to work with the violet flame. Now that his uncle had broken his promise and left the clan, Kyungin was sent to kill him. He was well aware of the threat his uncle posed, but struggled internally with his task regardless because of the family tie. A good future leader should be able to make difficult decisions and know when to follow his mind instead of his heart, but...

Kwon Minkyung, 18 (side)

Minkyung's family was always moving and his parents refused to tell him why. He was independent as a kid and capable for his age. When his parents didn't come back for three weeks, however, Minkyung could no longer remain calm. He ended up on the streets and was swept up by an organization that existed to take advantage of the chaos the shadow monsters left behind. Abandoned, abused and disappointed by the world, Minkyung sometimes questioned why he still lived. His most recent task was to watch this little girl who could ignite a tiny flame atop her palm. Just like him.

[adriles]

when we’re done with our overwhelming grief we’ll eat i guess

[rinneverse]

cw a little suggestive towards the end, mdni please and ty :)

alhaitham is the type to seethe quietly in his jealousy.

he’s not outwardly possessive—no, because he lets the stranger talk to you—his pretty girlfriend—about his thesis plans, about his academic feats, and you sit there with a smile plastered on your face, nodding your head as you listen to him prattle on and on and on.

alhaitham nearly bends the book in his hand into pieces with what he claims is annoyance. not possessiveness, no, that was out of character. he was just… annoyed, that this random man had the gall to interrupt his reading session with you.

that’s what he tells himself, at least.

of course, how was he supposed to know you were dating the akademiya scribe, when alhaitham was possibly the most low-key person ever? the two of you were quiet about your relationship, content to share it between yourselves. only your close friends really knew the extent of how deep your “friendship” with the scribe went.

as soon as the man leaves (not without leaving his number for you, of course), and the two of you are blanketed in the quiet murmurs of the akademiya library, alhaitham sets his book down. he turns to you.

he finds you staring at him, amusement flickering in your eyes. alhaitham tilts his head, all feline grace, his eyes narrowing into slits as he asks, “what?”

you shake your head mirthfully, crumpling up the slip of paper in your hand and tossing it into the nearest bin. alhaitham feels his shoulders un-tense just a fraction at the sight.

“nothing,” you say, but alhaitham knows you’re lying.

so he leans closer to you, grasping your chin in his hand as he tilts your head back and forces your gaze to meet his.

“liar. what is it?”

you smile. wide and wider it grows, and you reach a hand up to brush alhaitham’s cheek. he barely suppresses a shudder at the gentle touch.

“i didn’t think you to be the jealous type.”

“i’m not.”

“then what was that all about?” you hum. you’re… amused by this. amused by him grappling with his emotions. alhaitham feels his lips twitch downward.

if you didn’t know any better, he would appear to just be frowning. but you did… and it was like he was pouting. you giggle.

“i am annoyed,” alhaitham says, stressing the last word, “that we were interrupted by a stranger. nothing more.”

“nothing more?” you parrot, your eyes gleaming with amusement. “sure. and i’m the grand sage.”

alhaitham bites his tongue, pulling his hand away from your chin. his fingers flex—he has to stamp down on his self-control. being found in a compromising position in the library would surely wreck the both of your social statuses.

but the thrill of it… seeing you bent over the table, utterly wrecked under the careful ministrations of his hands—getting to mark his claim on you...

he quickly shakes the dangerous train of thought away.

“do you want to go home?” you suddenly ask, a coy smile dancing on your lips. he must have been obvious where his line of thinking was going, if you managed to catch on that quickly. the grin on your face tells him that you did.

alhaitham pretends to ponder it. grabs the book he set down, turns it over in his hands, then shrugs.

“sure. kaveh shouldn’t be home for another few hours.”

his voice was bedroom-soft, and the tone in which he said it—nearly purring—has heat pooling in your core.

“alright. let’s go?”

he wordlessly rises, holding out his hand for you. there’s a small part of him that feels a maddening satisfaction when you let out a pleased hum, followed by a surprised yelp as he gracefully slides an arm around you.

someone nearby makes a “shh” noise, and he completely ignores it. you giggle out an apology.

it was utterly unlike him, he thinks, as he guides you through the library with his arm wrapped around your waist, slowly moving to rest his hand on the small of your back when the two of you exit the library.

maybe he’ll try being more public in his attention to you. that would most certainly keep this from happening again.

[harbingersglory]

hii could i req an soft dom arlecchino x sub/fem reader?? something w a really needy whiny reader n maybe like a mommy kink or thigh riding IDK tysm for ur time !

{☆} characters arlecchino {☆} notes drabble, fem reader, sub reader {☆} warnings 18+ content

"Slowly, doll. We're not in a rush." Arlecchino reprimands lightly, squeezing your hips with just enough force to keep you unmoving on her thigh– she was still being gentle, but the subtle warning in her tone spoke to how easily she could push you against the desk and turn you into such a mess that you couldn't even remember your own name..just that you were hers.

But the barest hint of stimulation from her slacks pressed against your throbbing cunt had you twitching, barely able to form words. All you could think about was the scorching, twisting need building in your stomach, desperation for relief slowly climbing until you'd think she was doing this on purpose to drive you mad.

"Please– 'm a good girl, right? I've been good.." You choked out, only to be met with the rough, husky laugh echoing in your ear that made you feel dizzy with a rush of need, her nails gliding along the skin of your hips as she pressed you down even more firmly– you couldn't see her face but it was easy to imagine the crooked smile twisting her lips at the way you inhaled sharply and tried to buck against her thigh.

"Shh. I know, doll. I've got you, just relax." She murmured in that sickly sweet tone that always had your knees buckling, the raspiness of her voice sending shivers down your spine. It was almost impossible to relax with her so close, the notes of metal lingering on her skin despite how well she presents herself– but you trusted her, despite how you know you shouldn't.

"There we go. Good girl." Arlecchino's grip on your hips loosened just enough for you to move if you so wished, and oh did it take every ounce of restraint to not do just that..she hadn't said you were allowed to, and you weren't about to spoil her good mood by being a brat. Not tonight, anyway. "Do you want to cum, doll?"

The fervent nod you offer in place of words draws a laugh from her lips, one that is almost mocking, making your face flush in embarrassment– but the sudden tap against your hip makes your mind go blank to the point you forget it all together, focused only on the feeling of her thigh rubbing against your cunt as you bucked against her thigh, the fabric slick and wet against your inner thighs. You'd have half the heart to be embarrassed about that, too, if not for the sudden brush of her thumb against your aching, neglected clit. Just that small touch has you speeding up your movements, practically drooling as you whimpered like a dog in heat.

"That's more like it, doll. Such a pretty girl." Arlecchino hummed, her other hand trailing up your stomach, between the valley of your breasts and ghosting across your throat before settling on grabbing your jaw in a firm, yet almost tender touch as she tilted your head to the side just enough for her to pull you into a burning kiss. It left you lightheaded, grinding down against her thigh as she claimed your mouth as her own, her thumb still ghosting over your clit sporadically.

She'd spent so long teasing you, constantly touching you but never where you needed her, that you already felt like you were going to snap like a wire. She must've been in a really good mood, then, when she pulled away from the kiss with an almost predatory lick of her lips, yet she settled on pressing kisses to your skin rather then the usual sharp bite of her teeth as they sunk into the curve of your shoulder.

"Are you close? Go on. I want to see your face when you cum– you look the prettiest when you finally break apart, doll." Arlecchino mused idly– as if she wasn't talking to you while you continued to rub your aching cunt against her thigh, chasing your own release through shaky, strained breaths. Her thumb swiped over your lips, brushing strands of hair stuck to your skin from your face– at the same time as she swiped her thumb more firmly against your clit, creating a vicious contrast that had you both melting at the barest hint of almost softness from her and the touch of her hand between your legs, dragging you into an orgasm that leaves you trembling and, had she not shoved her fingers into your mouth, screaming, tears pooling in the corners of your eyes.

"All done, little doll. Take it easy." She murmured, voice so quiet you almost didn't hear it, thumb swiping across your cheek to wipe away the stray tear, her hands pulling away to settle on your sides. "You did well– good girl. Let me take it from here."

[jungwondazed]

18+ only / emotion heavy sex w heeseung

i think there’s a loneliness hidden deep inside heeseung that is sort of masked with his flirty and bold interactions with fans. he’s charismatic, no question but i like to think there’s some of us who can kind of see through that.

i believe he longs for a love so deep it could heal the innermost parts of him, the parts of his childhood that he couldn’t live out regularly due to the stress of trying to debut. growing up in the spotlight under strict scrutiny and never having the chance to be like any other young adult, leads me to believe that heeseung craves a genuine relationship.

he’s gentle with you, patient. he plays his role of a man well. protective, caring, and nurturing you in the times that you need. when you come to him about personal problems he nods with every sentence you express, he tilts his head at your hurt, and wraps his hand around your fingers, reminding you of his presence. heeseung is anything but abrasive and abrupt, he is the wind blowing through a field that follows you every way.

he loves so hard that it hurts. there is no getting mad at him, he’s never wronged you of any sort. he’s sensitive, more than most guys are. as tough and head strong as he is, when he welcomes someone like you into his life that turns him into a vulnerable man there are softs spots that you must tip toe around because loving him is learning the parts of him that needs healing.

with his emotions set in place, it translates over to how he takes physical affection, and he is a fool for it. heeseung would never casually sleep with anyone, his values and life experiences has shaped him into a guy that can only get off if it’s with someone he desperately loves.

“is this okay?” he asks every single time like this isn’t anything you aren’t used to. you nod, and he continues, his breath staggering when you grind down and he pushes up.

heeseung doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to this overwhelming feeling of love and warmth through genuine and meaningful sex. the way your skin presses on him, the outline of your body in the dark when you ride him, how pretty your face is so up close he could kiss every inch of it. there were days when he was so alone that even if a thousand people showed up at his door the isolation swallowed him whole. with your one body on his, he thanks all his lucky stars that he was patient enough to await for someone like you. the nerves on the pads of his fingers are stimulated by your breasts, how he loves feeling them knowing you gave all yourself to him. his grip on your waist as you fuck yourself is tight, not wanting to ever let you go.

heeseung stares at you like the world gives him a few seconds of more time, his gaze lingering down your face and body like there is no tomorrow. he soaks in the image as if there aren’t plenty of more chances to make love, yet he treats you with speciality each time.

“ah”s and “oh”s fall from his lips, some stuck in his throat when you stroke him with your walls. he feels your love in every way like this, never closing his eyes despite how good it truly feels.

“i love you, ____” he’s the first to say those three words each time, and you kiss them right from his mouth, giving it to him like he needs it.

he fucks like both of your lives depend on this one moment, thrusting up into you when you’re too tired to keep going, showing you how love is supposed to be. that we bear the weight when the other can’t, that there is a pleasure is doing the labor for our partner.

“feels too good hee,” your grip on his shoulder almost hurts but that thought vanishes in seconds when he hits it right where you love it. he keeps his pace at that same spot, listening as you tell him over and over again how good he makes you feel, how you love him so much, drinking your words up.

he presses you tight against his chest when you’re both close, trembling as each passing stroke inches you towards your high. there are moments in life heeseung looks back on that makes him think every hardship he has encountered was worth it. some of them being his first call back, first congratulations from his family, and a performance here and there. but the majority of those moments are all linked to you. memories of how you look when you cum on him flashes through his mind, because there is no closer bond in love than through feeling a moment so intense together: with you struggling to take it, spitting out i love you’s and every word of affirmation there is, he’s delighted that all the sacrifices and tears that he gave, rewarded himself with you. he cums in you deep, almost whining by the time it spills into you. he loves you so much, the feeling of his orgasm and his never ending affection for you is euphoric, you experience it in every part of you. he is raw and tender, making you feel like it was the first time after each one ended.

“i love you so much, ___, i love you, just so you kn-“ and you’re all over him again, not once letting him slip out of you.

[milf-harrington]

29. putting ear over their heart, for steddie 💕

please enjoy some domestic fluff w the barest sprinkling of angst (like a tiny smidgen, barely a paragraph)

---

The apartment was quiet when Steve got in, back from lunch with Robin down at the cafe by her university.

It wasn't the kind of quiet Steve was used to, the kind that lurked in empty hallways. A dreadful, empty sort of quiet that sunk into your bones like water in the lungs of someone drowning.

This was a new sort of quiet: radio playing on the kitchen windowsill, the window by the couch left open with Eddie's ashtray tucked next to the cord for the blinds. Music and voices and engines from the street wafted in on the breeze, immediately dampened when Steve reached up and pulled the window back down with a thud.

It was a lived in sort of quiet. An Eddie's-either-not-home-or-he's-asleep-somewhere quiet.

Considering the window had been left open, Steve was betting on the asleep somewhere option.

Trying to stay quiet, Steve headed down the short hallway and pushed open their bedroom door. The blinds were open, and the bed was half made, the pillows left piled to one side with their cases folded on top like Eddie'd gotten distracted halfway through.

Steve snorted, fond, and stepped back into the hallway.

Their apartment wasn't big- two small bedrooms, a bathroom and a kitchen/living room combination with enough space for a dining table in between - so it wouldn't be hard to track his boyfriend down.

And it wasn't, Steve found him in the second-bedroom-turned-"office", stretched out in a sunbeam, like one of the stray cats he insisted on feeding.

He had one arm sorta stretched above his head, the other resting on his tummy as he snored into his armpit, guitar and notebook discarded to the side. The vacuum was in there too, and Steve had to step over it to get inside the room.

Apparently, Eddie had made a valiant attempt at cleaning while he'd been gone.

The thing is, when Eddie cleaned, he had to make a whole thing of it- turn it into one of his roleplaying games, with outfits and silly voices, or else he'd never actually get it done.

His usual version of a cleaning costume was to just keep his hair out of his face with a headband made out of a bandanna, folded into the cliched little triangle and all, and a long sleeved shirt so he could dramatically roll up his sleeves.

Today, he'd gone as far as to put on an old apron he'd accidentally stolen from a past job working at a deli. The duster he'd shoved in the front pocket was dangerously close to slipping out, only kept in place by the angle of Eddie's hip.

The thing is- Eddie was, like, a really deep sleeper. And he didn't tend to move much. And he was sort of just lying there, bandanna wrapped around the top of his head, hair splayed out under him, head tilted just enough to show off the long-healed scars in his cheek. And Steve was, much to his own dismay, a worrier.

And it had been a good 3 years since the spring of '86, and he could literally see Eddie's stomach rising and falling with each breath but-

But.

Feeling ridiculous, but knowing he'd just get more and more anxious until it became an actual problem, Steve sighed and carefully lowered himself into a crouch. He reached out, intending to shake Eddie awake, just to make sure he would, but paused as his fingers brushed fabric.

If he'd fallen asleep in the middle of the day, on the floor no less, then he probably needed it.

So, sticking his tongue out in a habit he'd definitely gotten from the man sleeping on the floor right now, Steve carefully moved the duster and the arm laying over Eddie's tummy and threw a leg over his hips.

He knee-walked backwards until he was hovering over his thighs instead, and then carefully laid down on top of him, turning his head so his ear was pressed against Eddie's sternum.

It took a second to settle, for the sound of shifting fabric to stop and then-

thu-thump. thu-thump. thu-thump.

He laid there for a little longer, just listening, just checking, until sun-warmed arms wrapped loosely around his shoulders. Steve didn't know if Eddie was fully awake, but he didn't say anything about waking up to Steve on top of him.

Instead he let out a long, pleased sigh. Dug his fingers into Steve's hair and gently scratched his scalp, movements slow and sleepy.

In a few minutes, Steve would sit up and ask Eddie what he was doing napping on the floor and Eddie will explain that he'd been cleaning, and then he'd gotten an idea for a song and he didn't want to forget it.

Then they'd get up, Steve hauling his boyfriend off the floor with dramatic grunts and groans like men twice their age, and finish cleaning the apartment together.

But for now, Steve just settled in a little more comfortably, listening to Eddie's heart beat.

[total-drama-brainrot]

Alenoah Week 2024: Day 3 - "TDWT Ending Rewrite"

The trek to the top of the volcano was, in layman's terms, agonizing.

Searing heat, somehow simultaneously swelteringly humid and suffocatingly dry, blistered at every inch of Noah's exposed skin and burned through his lungs like hot coals with every laboured breath. The sweat that would've been dripping from his exhausted body like a faulty faucet didn't even have the opportunity to form into pearl-shaped droplets before it evaporated against the overwhelming force of just how fucking hot it was.

And yet he'd made it.

He'd gotten there first, too.

Noah had somehow managed to out-slither the slippery fiend whilst the two were stumbling across the skipping stones of a lava lake, despite the weight of his pineapple dummy causing him to falter after almost every step.

The maw of the volcano bubbled and spat embers at his feet, just a few measly inches from the cynic himself. It was time to end it; the competition, the show, his… rivalry with Alejandro.

As if the mere thought of the Spaniard had somehow summoned him, Noah heard the tell-tale clicking of heeled boots against rock behind him quickly followed by harsh, laboured panting (not nearly as desperate as his own wheezing, but a far cry from the womanizer's usual composure). Alejandro's ponytailed hair rose from the plateaued peak of the volcano, followed by a pair of thick eyebrows furrowed against sweat-sheened skin, then a pair of furious sage green eyes- and sage was the most appropriate description Noah could think of, since they burned with a competitive fire comparable to the all-encompassing heat around them.

"It's over, Alejandro. I have the high ground."

Noah's voice was a hoarse, painful rasp, though whether it was from its unbearable dryness or the tenseness of the situation, he wasn't sure. He stood firmly at the edge of the volcano, searing light illuminating the edges of his form like a foreboding halo as he held Pinealejandro almost covetingly in a bridal carry, hovering the dummy over the scorching cavern of its imminent demise.

Alejandro- the human one, not the pineapple one- continued his unwavering ascent to the volcano's peak until he was but a few insignificant feet away from Noah. His shoulders visibly rose and fell with each huff of magma-scorched breath, and the barbaric snarl he bared towards the bookworm twisted his handsome features into something wild, alight with a passion that burned at white-hot as the lava below.

Then he roared.

"You underestimate my power!"

And lunged towards Noah, carelessly discarding his own pineapple dummy (comparatively twiggier and more feeble looking than Noah's own) as he cleared the space between them in the blink of a cinder-dusted eye.

"I will not lose to someone as infuriating as you!"

Before he could process what was even happening, Noah found himself scooped away from the edge of the volcano and lifted a few extra meters off of the ground, held victoriously above the latino in an overhead lift like he was some sort or glorified barbell. The shock of which inadvertently caused him to drop his own dummy, sending the construct tumbling into the bubbling, gaping chasm below until it plunged into the awaiting magma with a barely audible 'plop'.

For a brief tension-paused moment the two remained eerily still, almost frozen in place with disbelief (an impressive feat, considering it was far too fucking hot for anything to freeze atop the volcano).

Well.

That was that, then.

…It was sort of anticlimactic, really. Noah was almost disappointed.

"Um," The bookworm began, quickly schooling his surprise at being lifted and brandished like a javelin into his usual apathetic countenance, "Are you going to put me down, or…?"

Noah's enquiry was met a bark of high pitched laughter, a sound so entrenched in sardonic humour it was practically swimming in animosity.

"Ah, but Noah," Alejandro preened indulgently, as if he were speaking to a small child, and his snarl curled into a manic grimace. The archvillain's eyes were widened to their extreme, dying wisps of ember light flickering across his gaze which trailed from the waifish nerd held above his head to the boiling magma below.

"I still have a dummy to discard of."

In other words,

THROW THAT TWIG

INTO THE VOLCANO!!!

[sctumsempra]

going insane and i need to infodump about severus snape’s patronus being a doe for a second. i personally don’t think it changed, or lily necessarily influenced it- i think it’s always been a doe, casting the charm in dumbledore’s office was meant to show that he and lily were supposed to be viscerally aligned with each other and he knows he fucked it up and that’s why he’s spent almost two decades trying to atone for what he did. on a representative level, the doe symbolizes peace, protection, and innocence, and no three words could possibly represent severus snape more.

all he wants is peace: a peaceful life for himself, a peaceful world, a peaceful school. everything he’s ever done has been to create as much peace as possible. some of it can be considered misguided from a black and white moral standpoint, but it’s what created peace for himself. for example, aligning himself with the purist views of his housemates made him less of a target for bullying- he’s not a pure blood, and they’d know, and having powerful ambitious students on your side instead of alienating yourself from everyone means you have at least a semblance of protection from harm some of the time. he becomes a double agent for dumbledore to help bring about peace from voldemort’s reign. it might not have been peaceful for him per se, but it was still with the intention of peace in some form. he tries to give other people peace- he takes a vow with narcissa to protect her son because she’s crying and scared for him, and it gives her peace. he doesn’t throw draco under the bus to save his skin when voldemort accuses him of being the elder wands owner, giving draco and narcissa peace even if they weren’t aware. it’s either for himself, or for others.

he’s the most protective teacher at the school- would mcgonagall have thrown herself in front of three kids facing a wolfsbane-less werewolf? would flitwick take the burden of an unbreakable vow to protect draco malfoy from voldemort? would any of the DADA teachers have run towards the sound of a screaming woman? he consistently vows to protect everyone and everything he can. and, leading into his innocence, when he realizes he’s only been protecting harry for him to die, it breaks him.

he’s not necessarily innocent in that his hands are clean and he’s never done anything wrong in his life, but he’s innocent in that he’s naive. he trusted voldemort enough to be drawn into the death eaters, he trusted dumbledore enough to be manipulated into his bidding. it feels like he forgets that dumbledore screws him over constantly, dangles things in front of him and takes them away, makes crude assumptions, and has left him to fend for himself essentially their entire relationship. the times that dumbledore abandons him- physically, mentally, metaphorically- he gets very upset. like it’s new information to him that dumbledore treats him like shit. from an abuse perspective, he probably had to spend his childhood mentally erasing what his parents and home were like so he could feel safe and normal, so the constant ebb and flow/back and forth of his and dumbledore’s relationship is familiar to him. when dumbledore draws him back in with whatever method, he’s right back to behaving as dumbledore wants, doing what dumbledore wants, and believing what dumbledore believes. the times that he remembers that dumbledore doesn’t care that he let the guy who’s tried to kill him or assault go, or that dumbledore thinks he wants only lily saved because he desires her romantically or sexually, or that dumbledore has only been using harry and, by extension, him (as he’s been the one protecting harry) to play the long game of destroying voldemort are the times that he’s emotional in the books. he cries, he’s vulnerable, he raises his voice, he begs and he pleads and he defers. he doesn’t do that any other time, other than when he found harry watching his memories. he trusts and he forgives (or he forgets, or he feels safer pretending he doesn’t care what’s been done to him/how he’s been treated.) a doe is perfect for him. reducing it to something like tonk’s patronus being changed as soon as she’s in a relationship with lupin or that it’s only a doe because of lily evans completely erases his entire way of thinking and behaving and being.

also, in a self indulgent addendum, it’s a very feminine animal, and severus is consistently aligned with femininity. hermione calls the half-blood prince’s writing feminine. he wears his mother’s clothes as a child, and lupin encourages neville to dress his boggart as his grandmother. he’s quiet and docile and tries to be non-violent unless he’s pushed to his breaking point, and even then it’s screaming or crying or getting animated. he’s emotional and frequently painted as hysterical. he gets the “woman character treatment”: to the average viewer who doesn’t think about him long enough to understand otherwise, he only desires lily. the consensus is that he chases her, he only thinks about her in the context of attraction. the line about looking at her greedily is constantly understood to be lust, and not a desire for love or a desire for a peaceful relationship for once in his life (and a relationship that only ever seems to be platonic at that). he even backs off and all but disappears from her life when he’s asked to, while james (the one with the stag patronus, the classic triumphant male character) harasses her and pursues her and behaves in a way that makes his son decades later wonder if he forced lily into a relationship. he’s behaviorally aligned with what femininity in the eyes of misogyny is supposed to be. he keeps to himself, he’s quiet, he sacrifices every bit of himself for students and coworkers and superiors and expects nothing in return, he pushes his students to be the best they can. (i’d say nurtures with my whole chest, but as the narrative comes from harry, we can’t really be sure. in my view, his house won the house cup for several years in a row which was only interrupted by dumbledore awarding a fuck ton of points to his gryffindor prize pony, his classes are seen as high performing and advanced by even dolores umbridge of all people, he only tries to punish students albeit a bit violently after several attempts of getting them to understand why what they did was wrong, which seems to be pretty nurturing in comparison to what other teachers allow and do). whether he’s trans, or had been influenced more by eileen, or he was intended to be deeply complex and contradictory and that meant that he had to have these traits, or any other of the multitude of reasons for snape being an inherently feminine character, it’s there. his patronus wouldn’t be a stag, he wouldn’t be anything overbearing and he wouldn’t be anything aggressive. it doesn’t make sense with his soul and his personality and his life. the peaceful protective innocent/naive doe, however, does.

[willowser]

the idea of ua teacher bakugou honestly makes me so sad, because you have to consider the possibility of him not making it to the end as a hero which !! is heart-breaking !!

but at the same time — there is something really cathartic i think about him growing up and growing out of measuring his worth by being number one, by being the best. and i like to think of him as a grumpy professor !! a bit like aizawa !! or him keeping a close eye on the shy, quiet students, watching out for them and always there to bully them (affectionate) along their path . or for him to be an all might to someone, a young kid that looked up to dynamight in his hay-day, now getting to follow directly under his lead.

[the-kr8tor]

It is done

[lunarharp]

things.. uh... Gentry era au

[bonefall]

As a big sibling with a lil sib with epilepsy, when they read TBC they Honestly thought if they got struck with lightning reciting the lord's prayer they'd be cured like Shadowsight is from their epilepsy. I had a discussion with them on how that's not how it works, but ge was so upset they took it away from Shadowsight that he hasn't picked the books back up and has stated that 'he hopes Ashfur wins and starts a new religion.,'

I do not even know how to respond to this besides saying that your little sibling is 100% right to be pissed and I now also hope Ashfur wins and starts a new religion.

[thickenmyblood]

hi maca :) do u already know when you can post chapter 20? im so sad about hiuh ending but also so excited for some happiness :( also, will it really only be 20 chapters or will you add one or two more? in any case, thanks so much for all the time and effort you put into this! I loved every second I spent reading this fic <3

hello!!! well, i was supposed to post ch20 on feb 1st . . . but that obviously did not happen. this month is the month though!!!! I'll try to make it happen before march.

about the chapter: yes, it's the last chapter ever. there will be no more. ever. honestly, I don't think you'll want another chapter after this considering the rough draft I'm working with is 250 PAGES