#pls pls pls rb so it reaches more people!

[three-headed-monster]

as dylan cozens would say, let’s fucking go!

[pesteringchum]

ngl the pettiest thing i do on a daily basis is like an art post, read that the post has one of those “btw likes are worthless. if you like but don’t rb this post youre actually destroying artists” type things at the bottom, go “damn :/ ig youre right,” and then unlike the post

[icarryitin]

Effortless

spencer reid/gn!reader

coming into this from a fandom where my last fic got literally 11 notes (half of which were my own self-rbs) the reception for workplace hot was heartwarming, pls accept more pre-relationship work crush goodness as thanks🧡🧡

masterlist

word count: 1.6k// warnings: absolutely hopeless pining, this man is so so clever but so so oblivious

“Chicken.”

“Did you know, the origin of ‘chicken’ in reference to someone who’s afraid can be traced back to the use of ‘hen-heart’ as a synonym for ‘fainthearted’? Its first documented use was in the York Mystery Plays - which are considered to have been written prior to 1450.”

“Chicken.” Morgan repeats.

“Shut up.”

While his second response is decidedly less eloquent, Spencer’s pretty sure he can’t fact-dump his way out of this particular conversation.

It’s not exactly a secret - his giant, all consuming, world ending crush on you - at least, it’s not a secret from anyone except you. He’s past being embarrassed about it when one of the others brings it up, as long as it’s not around you. That’s happened exactly once, and Spencer’s automatic response was to chatter about the migration patterns of a specific type of bird he’d read an article about the day before. Ceaselessly. No matter how much everyone else had begged him to stop, until the previous subject was well and truly forgotten. So when you’d asked a leading question about another kind of bird? He was more than happy to oblige. You’ve always done that, listened to him. It’s nice.

It’s probably what got him in this mess in the first place.

Somewhere along the way, a routine developed itself. He remembers the first day you asked him to elaborate on something he’d started on earlier in the day, trivia about the fluctuations in the popularity of a specific make of car. It had ended up being useful in the context of the case anyway but, more importantly to Spencer, the tidbit had you cornering him in the kitchen to ask him about it. And now it’s just what happens. You potter around to make your lunch, he chatters about the most recent paper he’s read like your own personal podcast.

It’s a comfortable friendship, solidified by little things like that. Though they’re not all that little to him, if anything they’ve only deepened his feelings for you - he doesn’t let on, for your sake, he tries not to.

But his affection sneaks out in other ways.

He gravitates towards you without realising it, just to exist in your space. At the round table, on the jet, at crime scenes, in whichever office the local PD have cleared out for the team. He’s never hovering, but he’s not not hovering. Just working parallel to you. It’s why he likes the bullpen, for all its hustle and bustle, because he can look at you out of the corner of his eye whenever he wants to. He can spin his chair to face you, stretch his legs out across the aisle, and let a wave of sheer steadiness wash over him. Sometimes it’s you, reaching over to hand him something or abandoning your post completely to perch on the corner of his desk. Spencer thinks that’s what it might be, the peace you seem to exude that quiets his busy mind - the kindness you extend to victims and their families that flows through your very veins. It follows you like an aura, there’s very little he won’t do to be bathed in it whenever he can. It’s all led to a unique dynamic that means you’re paired up together more often than not.

You move around each other unconsciously now, leaning over maps and files and evidence. Swapping pens and ducking under one another’s arms as you both scribble away at the board. It’s almost choreographed, natural. Everything is with you, and that’s what gets him. There’s a part of Spencer Reid’s brain that is dedicated to considering his actions in relation to the people around him, running in the background like a computer programme, but he doesn’t have to run it around you. He doesn’t think, for once. He just does.

It’s effortless, second nature, to make space for you. The same as it is to leave a seat open for you, even if it’s the only one. To nudge you gently when you’re too far in your own head to realise you’re picking at your skin. You’ve started nudging him back in recent weeks when he does the same, chewing on the inside of his lips and paying absolutely no mind to the damage he’s doing. You notice, you care enough to stop him. Just like you’ll leave an empty space on the nearest desk for him to hop up on. He’s not sure if you realise you’re even doing it. Clearing perfect Spencer-sized spots at every precinct and office you’re set up in, because you know he prefers it to the chairs. Which makes his own actions feel a little less overt and, in turn, lets him breathe a sigh of relief. Maybe this is just what good friends do for each other. He can call you that, at least, if his own fears won’t afford him the chance to call you anything else.

Though, he’s not sure he could stop himself from taking care of you in his own way if he tried. Mostly because he’s not trying in the first place.

He didn’t even realise what he was doing, the first time he turned to you to double check your protective vest was secure. Narrow fingers tugging on straps, barely even processing the inviting warmth of you underneath them, he’d been too focused on making sure you were as protected as you could be. And then he’d walked into the Unsub’s home ahead of you anyway.

Spencer never walks ahead of you, anywhere. He’s always ushering you in first, something drilled into him by some unknown force, his basest of instincts - you’re ahead of him into the office, into precincts, into crime scenes, even into the elevator. But in a hostile situation? He’s first through the door every time.

So much so that it’s routine now, wherever the case, whoever is around. He grasps the shoulders of the thick vest and wiggles it, he rips the velcro straps off at your waist only to secure them again. A little tighter, and he’s quietly grateful that you let him. The heat of you at his back is reassuring when scenes aren’t secure. To know that, based on his experience anyway, the Unsub will more than likely jump out ahead of him - and he’ll be the one between you and the bullet. Which is maybe a little dramatic, but it’s the truth.

“Ready, boys?”

Doctor Spencer Reid has never claimed to believe in any god, but he makes sure to thank something for the interruption. Anything to get himself and his giant crush out from under Derek Morgan’s microscope.

It’s Emily who speaks, Emily who tosses protective vests at him and Derek, but Spencer’s eyes are focused on you entering the office behind her. You’re concentrating on your own vest, securing straps that’ll only be repositioned in a minute or two. But you still do it yourself each time, as if you’re not expecting him to come over and double check your work. There’s no way you haven’t noticed by now. That he’ll do it every time, that he doesn’t do it for anybody else, that he spends twice as long checking on your vest than he does securing his own. FBI emblem emblazoned on his chest, Spencer crosses the room dutifully to conduct his little ritual.

Velcro isn’t quiet. It pierces through the background noise when he undoes the buckle at your side and tears it free, but his eyes don’t move from the task at hand. Yours are heavy on his face, the way they always are when he gets this close. He pretends not to notice.

“Thank you.” You whisper softly. So softly that between the chatter and gun checking behind him, only the two of you can hear.

It’s only now, now he’s certain your vest is snug as possible, that he allows his careful gaze flicker to meet yours. He struggles not to take a step back with the force of it.

“Of course.” He replies, reluctantly pulling his cold fingers out from the warmth beneath the shoulders of your vest. His smile, small, self-conscious, is returned tenfold and beaming. The same way it always is. He doesn’t know how you do it - see the things you see every day and still manage a grin wider than the Río de la Plata. Maybe he can’t explain everything.

He catches a movement over your shoulder, it’s Morgan. Arms folded at the elbow, fists tucked close to his chest, as he makes the exaggerated movements of a chicken. Head bobbing and all. The teasing support, because that’s all it is, is nice to have - but there’s not one member of the team who understands exactly why he’s so afraid to say anything to you. In an ideal world, he wouldn’t be. He’d be able to pull you aside and tell you exactly how many days it’s been since he’d met you, started crushing on you, fallen absolutely hopelessly in love. It kind of all started at once, if he’s being completely honest. And in that ideal world, you would smile that billion kilowatt smile and tell him you love him too, and even the paperwork from the bureau wouldn’t matter. This isn’t an ideal world, however. He knows that better than most.

Spencer’s been rejected before, more than even he would care to admit, by friends and lovers and parents and colleagues and strangers. But he’s not sure he could take it from you, not while you hold his heart so tenderly in your hands. Even unaware of the responsibility, you’re gentle with him.

He’ll keep you close, regardless, as much as he can without arousing your suspicion. He’ll keep making space for you and double checking your vest until every ugly confession claws its way out of him.

That’s enough, for now.

if you’ve made it this far, pls know i am kissing u gently on the forehead🧡🧡

i’m also thinking about opening requests for all things pre-relationship spencer bc mutual pining and obliviousness is my fav fav fav thing, in case anyone was interested👀

[juyeonszn]

JUST FOR ME

PAIRING ji changmin x f!reader

WORD COUNT 1.26k

GENRES kinda fluff ﹒smut

WARNINGS 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, mature language, apparently ji changmin has a secret, established relationship, a whisker away ref <3, dacryphilia lol, making out, oral (m!receiving), face fucking lol, cum eating lol, lmk if i missed anything!

SUMMARY ji changmin had a secret.

MORE hellaur hellaur!! i cannot believe i’ve written 8 of these in the past month like i’m actually sick in the head. but maybe u guys are even sicker for reading them idk… once fawntober is over i think i might spontaneously combust. ANYWAY i would like to dedicate this to the resident jichang lover <3 beam <3 consider this a late birthday gift <3 if u enjoyed pls rb!

PERM TAGLIST @winterchimez @maessseongs @itsbeeble @zzoguri

Ji Changmin had a secret.

A very big secret that he would never dare tell to anyone else. Not his friends. Not even you. Whether it was because he wanted to keep this to himself, take it to the grave type beat, or because he was embarrassed— the world may never know.

But as you cuddle into his side, sniffling over this stupid animated movie, he realizes that his big secret might be harder to keep to himself than he thought.

He’s seen A Whisker Away with you probably hundreds of times by now, and he’s seen you cry each and every time, but for some reason this is the one that gets to him. The sight of your pretty tears trickling down your cheeks, eyes slightly puffy and lips pouty, has his thinking clouded. Typical Y/N behavior, living in his mind rent free like it was your career.

He hopes the thick comforter of your bed hides just how turned on he is, licking his lips when a tear drips down your chin and onto your chest. Don’t even get him started on your pajama choice. Nothing but a thin camisole and flimsy linen shorts. Did you know that you were just one action away from sending him into cardiac arrest?

Changmin doesn’t even notice that the movie has ended and the credits are displayed, eyes still trained on the stray teardrops rolling down your sternum. It’s not until you’re reaching above your head to stretch, leg bumping into his hard on.

You turn to him with wide eyes and a gasp. “Changmin! No way you’re fucking horny right now.”

“I’m not?” His response comes out more like a question than a statement, so of course you don’t believe him in the slightest. You give him a pointed look.

“How could you possibly be hard after watching that?” Your eyebrows raise, judging him wholeheartedly without knowing the full story. Though, he’s almost certain you’d still judge him then, too. Who wouldn’t? Getting turned on by the sight of his girlfriend crying wasn’t exactly something that people would think is normal.

“That’s— uh— that’s not what— you know what, never mind. We can just go to sleep if you’re tired—” Changmin really wished you weren’t so persistent sometimes. Then again, your persistence was the reason you were together in the first place.

“No, I’m wide awake now,” you simper, a sly little smile that looks out of place paired with the tear streaks on your cheeks. “Lemme help you, Min.”

You peel back the covers, straddling his lap. Changmin groans, throwing his head back when your barely clothed warmth presses down on his erection. Your fingers card through his hair before you lean in to kiss him.

It’s slow at first, lips moving together gently as you work yourself up. One of the things Changmin loved about you was the fact that you were always so eager to please. He had a tendency of not asking for anything unless absolutely necessary, but with your keen sense of perception, you just knew when he needed a little extra care. Like right now, for example.

His hands find your hips, grinding them into his own as he nips your bottom lip. You sigh into the kiss, parting just enough to catch your breath. He slips his fingers under the waistband of your shorts but you shake your head.

“Mm-mm,” you start to pepper kisses all over his face and jaw, trailing down his neck. “Let me do the work. You just relax, okay?”

The service top he was, Changmin thought it would be a bit difficult to just let you have the reins. However, he pulls away his hands anyway, allowing you to exhibit your magic. You smile contentedly, shimmying down so your face was level with his crotch.

Changmin watches with bated breath as you haul his sweatpants and underwear down his legs in one go. He fists your hair in a makeshift ponytail, darting out his tongue to wet his lips when you leave a sweet kiss to the tip of his cock. He hisses as you wrap your hands around the base, pumping his length agonizingly slow.

His hips buck up into your hands, teeth gritted when your lips envelope the head. Your tongue drags over his slit, collecting the precum that’s begun to form. You moan when the taste of him settles, one hand sliding under his t-shirt to claw at his abdomen.

Finally, after what felt like eternity, you take him fully into the warm coziness of your mouth. Every time you gave Changmin head, you tried not to push yourself to swallow him wholly. You were afraid of embarrassing yourself by not being able to fit his impressive size down your throat. This time was different. You felt the need to provide him the best pleasure possible.

He thinks he might combust, focus zeroed in on your plush lips going further down his length and meeting your hand. Your eyes flutter open, making contact with his as you twist your wrist and start to bob your head. Changmin groans, using his free hand to fist at the sheets below you. You looked so fucking filthy like this, ass perked up in the air as you sucked him off like your life depended on it. But good God, you managed to still look absolutely gorgeous, even with the drool dribbling along your chin.

Instinctively, his grip on your hair tightens and he pushes your head down, forcing you to engulf his cock more than you already had. You gag, but steel yourself to power through. Changmin accepts his fate and lets himself loosen up, a conniving grin spreading across his lips.

“Gonna let me fuck your face, baby?” He coos, bending his knees and putting his feet flat on the bed.

You moan in approval, pulling off just to respond. “Mhm. Want you to feel good.”

“Fuck, you’re so sexy,” he bites his lip, bringing your face closer to kiss your swollen lips, your hand still jerking him off. “I’m gonna ruin you.”

He can taste himself on your mouth and it makes his release that much more exciting. You break apart, returning to what you were doing previously. This time, however, Changmin doesn’t hold himself back. He starts to fuck up into the wet heat of your mouth, cock sliding down your throat with a choked groan following each thrust.

Your eyes water, and before you know it, tears are tracking on your cheeks. He nearly whines, all sense of restraint lost completely as you continue to wrap around him, tongue swirling around the tip and running along each vein. Changmin feels insane, his orgasm building up higher and higher the more you take him— the more you cry for him.

It’s when one of your teardrops drips onto his stomach, your thumb swiping across his hip bone, that he cums into your mouth with a moan so out of character, you almost join him. You try to swallow everything he gives you, but it’s so much that you have to pull off of him, feeling it slip down the side of your mouth. Your hips roll into the bed to release some of the friction that formed.

Changmin wipes away the mixture of saliva and cum on your chin, stamping another slow kiss to your lips. You straddle him once again, whimpering when he presses up into your already sensitive cunt.

He smiles, fingers dipping into your shorts. “You did so well, baby. Let me return the favor.”

© juyeonszn. do not steal, claim, or repost.

[userheng]

𓆩♡𓆪 meeting dan heng.

synopsis: meeting dan heng.

warnings: slight spoilers from dan heng's character story. bros bold, march playing wing woman no 1, the reader has hot men disease

a/n: writing after almost two years i've lost my groove rip n e ways hope u enjoy!! pls lmk ur thoughts! <3 rb if u enjoyed :)

DO NOT REPOST/TRANSLATE.

As soon as you step foot in the Astral Express, your whole body lights up with excitement. 

You’re finally starting your journey to other planets and your joy couldn’t be contained. Your eyes take in your surroundings, a beautiful view of a bed of bright stars—you have to hold yourself back from almost reaching for them. 

“Hey!” 

A voice breaks you out of your reverie, you look for the source of the voice not finding anyone in front of you.

“Down here!” 

The voice speaks once more and you finally look down, coming in contact with the most adorable thing you’ve ever seen.

“Oh…hello?” You say with hesitation, taking note of the unfamiliar creature.

“I’m Pom-Pom, the conductor of Astral Express,” The unknown creature introduces themselves. “You can come to me whenever you need help! But don’t cause trouble!” Pom-Pom expresses with a fiery passion, and you don’t know whether to coo or actually be scared of the little thing.

“Well, alright, you’re the boss.” You simply nod, trying to hold back a laugh at the adorable entity. 

“The Passenger Cabins are that way so you can keep your bags there. And the archives are the first door but um…” Pom-Pom pauses for a second. “There’s a guy called Dan Heng that practically lives in the archives but you’re free to visit that area! I have no clue what he does all day in there.” Pom-Pom’s petit body seems to deflate in defeat which once more makes you want to let out an audible coo but you refrain. 

You recognize that name easily—Dan Heng. After all, he’s one of the people you’ll be accompanied on your first journey, the other one being March 7th. You’ve never met these people but you trust Himeko’s judgment, after all, she’s the one who paired you with them. The only piece of information she gave you about them is that “You’ll have fun,” which excites you but also worries you, but you push that away for now.

“Thank you, Pom-Pom, I’ll be mindful of that.” You smile before bidding Pom-Pom goodbye, they wave back telling you to follow the rules.

You make your way toward the cabins, locating yours fairly quickly. You settle in nicely. You feel a bit lethargic already but the enthusiasm of finally being on the Astral Express keeps you from getting a shut-eye. Rather, you decide to explore different parts of the Express. Freshening up quickly you venture out of your cabin, taking in the sites of the surroundings around you. The view of the vast shimmering galaxy almost bought you to tears. You’ve finally reached your goal. You’re a Trailblazer now. After working meticulously for years and honing your skills, you’ve achieved your aim and you couldn’t be happier. 

Walking around for a bit more, observing the decor around you, you head for the main compartment, and as soon as you descend down the stairs you’re greeted by a cheerful voice.

“Hello! You must be our new companion, I’m March 7th!” The girl with bright pink hair and blue tips introduces herself and her cheerful demeanor brings about a smile on your face. 

“Hello, March, it’s lovely to meet you.” You say, holding out your hand for her to shake and she does so with enthusiasm. 

“So you’re coming with us, huh? Are you ready for some fun?” She asks with a wide grin on her face, clasping her hands to the front, and it makes you feel at ease. 

“Born ready, I’ve been waiting for this.” You reply, patting your prized polearm, a proud smirk on your lips. March nods in response, and suddenly she takes out her camera. 

“I have some pictures—wait have you met Dan Heng yet?” She asks, pausing her original question. 

“Oh no, not yet, I think he’s in the archives, Pom-Pom told me,” You respond and March lets out a sigh. 

“He’s always coped in there. How about you go introduce yourself to him?” She suggests and you think it over for a moment…you don’t really know what this Dan Heng character is like so you feel slightly nervous, but ready to meet him nonetheless. 

“Sure, I’ll see you after then?” You say, smiling warmly at her, and she nods back with eagerness. 

“Come back soon! I’ve got awesome pictures to show you!” March shouts as you leave for the archives room, you wave back, giving her an affirmative nod. 

You knock on the door of the archives room, even though you don’t really need to but after Pom-Pom information about how he practically uses the place as his room you deemed it fit to knock before entering 

You enter, immediately met by Dan Heng’s figure standing towards the bookshelves, nose buried in documents. You clear your throat, hoping to get his attention, all you receive in turn isーwell nothing. He doesn’t turn around like you’d expect him to. 

“Hello, are you Dan Heng?” At the mention of his name, he turns around, and suddenly you’re met with one of the most attractive men you’ve laid eyes upon. His eyes look captivating, one of them lined with the colour red, and some of his hair fall over his forehead. 

“That’s me.” He curtly nods. “Do you need something from me?” 

You’re completely taken away by him. His cadence sounds so…enticing. His attire makes him look dashing, and of course, this Dan Heng is easy on the eyes—you can’t seem to pull away your gaze from him. 

You hear him clear his throat, your blatant staring as been caught red-handed. 

“Is there something you need?” He repeats, facing away from you, finding the carpet of the express far more interesting—Dan Heng hates how his cheeks are tinted slightly red. Your staring definitely did not go unnoticed.

Your skin warms up, embarrassment flooding your veins.

“Oh yes—I’m, Y/N, I’ll be accompanying you,” You answer. “I thought I’d introduce myself.” Dan Heng seems satisfied with your response, nodding in silence. 

“You should take a look at the data bank to familiarize yourself with the upcoming surroundings, so you know how to protect yourself…although I will be there as well to protect you,” He pauses for a second, before clearing his throat, a faint blush once more spotting his cheeks. “I’ll leave you alone for a while.” Dan Heng states, and leave the archives before you can get a word one. His behaviour startles you a bit, but you don’t pay much mind, you already pegged him as more of an introvert from the descriptions of March 7th and Pom-Pom. You seat yourself comfortably, pulling up the archives to research just as Dan Heng advised.

As soon as Dan Heng leaves the room, he takes a deep breath to calm himself. 

He knew you. 

Dan Heng remembers you from his days in the IPC. You didn’t seem to recognize him and he’s thankful for that. He’s changed a lot, so he didn’t expect it either it. But he remembers you quite clearly. He saw you working diligently from the sides, always getting along with people and helping people whenever you can—him also being one of those people. You showed him kindness and he’d always appreciated it. But meeting you again was never on his agenda. He walks to the main hall of the express, seating himself on one of the couches for the jump that will commence soon, it was uncommon for him to be in the main compartment during jumps but today he had a change of heart.

Soon enough, Pom-Pom made the announcement for the jump, which bought you out of the archives room as per the conductor’s orders. 

“Y/N, over here!” March’s cheery voice calls you over, and she quickly grips your hand dragging you over to where Dan Heng was seated and she pulls you down to sit with her.

“Are you ready for your first jump, Y/N?” March inquires, “It feels weird the first time around but it’s pretty fun!” 

“I’m a little nervous honestly,” You answer honestly, lips curving into a timid smile. You’ve been preparing yourself yet, of course, fearful thoughts reside. It’s your first trailblazing expedition after all. 

“You’ll be okay, as long as you hold onto something since it’s your first time, I assure you. How about you hold Dan Heng’s hand? I’m sure he’ll help out a fellow partner right?” March suggests, a broad wicked grin on her face. You can’t tell if it’s you she’s messing with you or Dan Heng—you audibly hear him heave a sigh. You shake your head at March, her smile matching that of a Cheshire cat, while you feel the heat rise to your cheeks.

“Oh no, that won’t be necessary I’ll be fine—” 

“You can hold onto my hand if you feel comfortable. I do not mind.” 

Dan Heng’s answer leaves you both flabbergasted. March’s mouth falls open but she recovers quickly, her lips stretching into a teasing smile once more. 

“Well, then I’ll leave you alone!” March leaves without explanation and you’re about to call for her to ask where she’s going but Dan Heng answers for you.

“She does this every time. Trying to stand throughout the jump, trying not to fall.” 

You simply nod, not knowing how to respond, you’re embarrassed to say anything simply put. March’s suggestion and Dan Heng’s agreement put you in the spot.

“Would you like to hold onto my hand? If you feel comfortable, of course.” Dan Heng shocks you once more by holding out his hand for you. 

His cheeks have a rosy tint, the dark eyes not meeting yours.

Well…he is cute, isn’t he? Nothing wrong with holding a cute guy’s hand, right?

Boldness overcomes you, and you slip your hand into Dan Heng’s. He’s startled, his blush darkening, the tops of his ear matching his crimson cheeks, he didn’t actually expect you to do it, even though he offered. 

“Thanks, Dan Heng, I feel protected already.” You express, tone flirtatious, a lingering smirk on the corners of your lips. Dan Heng nods, tearing his gaze away from your face—definitely to hide his flustered self. His hands are rough, but they’ve also got a certain softness to them. Despite being calloused, his hand looks delicate. It feels good. Your hand intertwined with his feels lovely. Dan Heng’s thoughts aren’t far from yours—he’s never felt such things before, holding your hand…it wasn’t what he expected. He feels at ease as your hand rests in his. 

Only a few moments later Pom-Pom’s voice blares through as they announce the jump, as they count down. You see March steel herself, chanting some sort of mantra that sounds something along the lines of, “I won’t fall over,” on repeat. 

“Don’t be nervous, you’ll be alright,” Dan Heng’s voice suddenly rings in your ears, he’s closer to you than before, his husky yet gentle voice whispering in your ear. 

“Thank you.” You express your gratitude in the form of a smile. Dan Heng returns it with a tender smile of his own. 

Pom-Pom’s countdown finishes and you’re about to be sucked into the vortex, grip tight on Heng’s hand.

“You’ll be alright, just hold on to me.” 

That’s the last thing you hear before the jump, before the start of your new journey and endless memories. With your newfound companions and the one that’ll occupy your mind for a long time—Dan Heng.

Yeah, you’ll be alright. 

[jackhues]

the devil and the runaway! au - prologue

note: prologue's here, finally! hope you guys like it! remember to like, rb <3 (also my tags aren't working for some reason, so pls rb if you see this!!)

the devil and the runaway! au - navigation

add or remove yourself from my mafia! au taglist

I should’ve left Monaco when I had the chance.

You should’ve packed your bags months ago and fled to another country — Hell, you should’ve fled across the world. Somewhere in South America perhaps. You knew enough languages to live comfortably in quite a few of the countries, didn’t you? Nico would be a little upset, but he would adjust quickly.

I should’ve left Monaco, you thought again, your eyes on the large figure falling to his knees, then the ground.

“Nice shot,” a raspy voice near your feet spoke.

Your hands shook violently, but you still weren’t able to let go of the gun. 

“I don’t even know how to shoot this thing,” your voice was shakier than your hands.

“Yeah, well, I’d say you did alright,” Charles Leclerc, the Devil himself, spoke, propping himself up slightly to see who you’d just shot. He looked back up at you, “Darling, I’m gonna need you to call someone for me.”

“The police?”

Charles barked out a laugh, before abruptly hissing and grabbing his abdomen. “That’s funny, but I can’t laugh because it hurts. No, you’re calling someone else.” He gave you a pointed look, “Someone who can help a little more than the police in this situation.”

“I left my phone inside,” you whispered, your fingers still gripping the gun.

“You wouldn’t be able to call with that anyways,” Leclerc continued, sucking a breath through his teeth and laying back on the gravel sidewalk.

The moon lit up your dusty street, just enough for you to make out the dark outline of liquid pooling beneath him.

“You were shot,” you muttered, staring at the blood. There was a lot of it.

“Yes, that’s why I ended up collapsing and dropping my gun in your hands,” he said, as if this interaction were an everyday occurrence. For him, it might’ve been. “Now, if you could just reach into my pocket, pull out my phone, and call someone for me.”

“One of… one of your people?” you asked, still rooted at your spot.

Despite the bloodloss, you could see Charles Leclerc roll his eyes. “Yes, one of my people, as you so eloquently put it. Now, if you could snap out of whatever trance you’re in, I would appreciate it. You shot someone, maybe he’s dead, maybe he’s not. No one knows. But I’m not dead yet, and I’d prefer to keep it that way. So you can either call one of my people or keep pressure on the wound while I call.”

You blinked, part of you surprised that he’d managed to get that many words out despite the fact that he lost more blood than he should’ve.

“I’ll call,” you decided, going through his pocket and grabbing his phone. The gun remained glued to your other hand.

“The password is five-four-six-two,” he grunted, doing his best to stay awake. He misread the look on your face, “I change it multiple times a day, you won’t be getting anything from knowing that.”

Despite the situation, you rolled your eyes, unlocking the phone.

“Go to contacts, call Lorenzo,” he grunted, his breathing coming heavier now. “Make sure you say blue ribbon the second he picks up.”

“Why?” you asked on instinct, searching up the name.

Charles decided to indulge you this once, “Because otherwise, you’ll have a whole lot of my people coming in, looking for a fight.”

You gulped, turning away from those blue-green eyes, and clicked the contact Lorenzo. There was no picture, no extra information to tell you who the hell you were going to be calling.

“Is this it?” you asked, turning the screen so Charles could see.

“Yeah, call him,” he told you. “And make sure you say—”

“—Blue ribbon,” you said the second someone picked up.

There was a slight pause on the other end of the line, “Who is this?”

“Charles Leclerc has been shot,” you ignored the question. “He’s out here on the street, bleeding, and he told me to call you.”

You heard frantic shuffling on the other end of the line, someone barking out orders, a car starting. 

“Tell me everything.”

You told Lorenzo what had happened that night: you stepped out of your cafe/home to throw out the garbage, a figure practically ran into you while you were locking the door. Stumbling, he’d put a gun in your hands, before collapsing to the ground. Another figure followed closely behind, holding a gun in the air, aiming in your and Charles’ direction. Instinct took over, and you held the gun in the man’s direction, pressing the trigger. The man fell over, and hadn’t moved since then. 

“He’s losing a lot of blood,” you told Lorenzo, eyeing the pool of blood beneath Charles. It was getting a lot larger than you’d like.

“We’ll take care of it,” Lorenzo promised.

As if on cue, a silver Mercedes pulled up in front of you, the passenger door opening before the car even stopped. 

You watched the olive skinned man step out, phone pressed to his ear. He gave you a quick glance, nodding, before pocketing the phone.

The disconnect tone blared in your ear from Charles' phone.

Lorenzo Leclerc, the oldest of the three Leclerc brothers. Even though he was the oldest of the Brotherband, rumour was that he was too soft to lead. He never missed any of his shots, but he never raised a gun unless he was protecting his family. The role of the Devil was passed on to Charles by Lorenzo himself.

You stood awkwardly as Lorenzo knelt next to Charles, whispering in rapid French.

Even if you’d been in Monaco for nearly three years now, you didn’t speak French well enough to understand half of what they were saying.

You diverted your attention as the driver side door opened, depositing a dark skinned man in braids. You barely had time to register his profile before he raised a gun towards you, still walking closer.

“What the hell?” you shouted, your hands raised as you moved backwards.

“What’s your name?” The man said, still making his way towards you.

“Y/N Meadows,” you answered, eager to get the gun aimed away from you.

The man hesitated for a second, but continued forward.

“Dude, what the hell!”

“Drop the gun,” the man said, his own still pointed at you.

You looked at the gun in your hand, forgetting you were holding it. You placed it on the ground, your hands once again raised. Your fingers missed the feeling of being wrapped around it already.

The man took another step forward, and you took another step backwards. The door to your shop dug into your back, telling you there was no place to go.

The dark skinned man kept moving forward, taking his time as if he enjoyed seeing you look for an escape. The key was still in the lock, but even if you managed to get inside, there was nowhere to go. The Ferras would catch you if they wanted you, and the Brotherband that leads them… well you hoped Charles wouldn’t end you.

Your eyes shut on instinct once the barrel of the gun was pressed to your forehead. One shot, straight in the center, and you’d be dead. 

“Lewis,” Charles muttered from his spot on the floor. “Leave her alone, she shot the man who shot me.”

Lorenzo was on the phone again, still kneeling next to the injured Charles. You weren’t sure how much he saw or heard, but you were more than glad he intervened.

‘Lewis’ gave you a once over, speaking over his shoulder to Charles in an English accent. “You sure it was her? You’re not delirious or anything, are you?” 

“I’m fine,” Charles responded, flipping him off. “Go call Arthur and tell him to stop freaking out. After that, make sure you take care of the body down the street. The one she shot.”

“Whatever you say, boss,” Lewis muttered, pocketing his gun.

You remained tense as Lewis moved back into the car, pulling out his phone and calling ‘Arthur’. 

Arthur Leclerc, The third and youngest of the Brotherband. He was still a Prema boy, one who’d come by your cat cafe quite a few times. Whiskers, who was notably the most hostile cat, seemed to enjoy Arthur’s company. You never knew what to think of the youngest, so you tried not to think of him at all.

“He’s lost too much blood,” Lorenzo said, addressing you for the first time ever. “We need to bring our medic here. Is there a couch or something in there we can use?”

You looked back at your cafe doors, realizing for a second how little these boys knew you. Granted, you knew little about them too. You knew you shouldn’t invite them, especially not while Nico was sleeping. 

Despite every instinct telling you to turn them away, you knew Lorenzo had a gun on him. Considering it was his brother’s life on the line, he could always shoot you, then go in anyways. Asking was his way of extending an olive branch in your direction.

Who’d watch Nico then?

“I’ve got a second room and bed if you’re willing to carry him up a couple stairs,” you offered. “The room’s soundproofed, and you’re less likely to wake the cats.”

“Lead the way,” he motioned, slinging his younger brother over his shoulders.

Charles groaned, adjusting himself over Lorenzo’s shoulders. You watched the pool of blood, looking away as you realized it was much bigger than you thought.

“Someone will clean it up,” Lorenzo told you, catching the way you looked at the blood.

You nodded, unlocking the cafe door, and leading two of the Leclercs to the guest bedroom. You opened the door, moving aside to let Lorenzo deposit his younger brother on the bed.

“You should probably put a sign out,” Lorenzo told you. “The cafe’s opening late tomorrow. In the afternoon. We’ll be gone by then.”

You bit your tongue, resisting the urge to argue. Running a business was hard, especially when you had two mouths to feed… but opposing the oldest Leclerc could mean death. Just because Lorenzo didn’t shoot, doesn’t mean he has a problem against sending someone else in his stead.

You settled on a nod, stepping out of the room and writing out a note to stick on the door of the cafe. You texted your baristas, letting them know as well. Although, it was the middle of the night, and you were pretty sure quite a few of them would be upset with you in the morning. 

With a sigh, you looked out the cafe doors, noticing that the pool of Charles Leclerc’s blood was gone. As was the garbage bag you were supposed to throw out. You didn’t know how they did it, and you didn’t want to know. You didn’t want to be associated with the Ferras, or the Brotherband — or any other gang for that matter.

A little too late for that now, you supposed.

Shaking your head to yourself, you climbed back upstairs, past the guest bedroom. After the events of the night, you just wanted to curl up into bed next to your son, hold him close and assure yourself you’d be fine. Maybe you could move to Argentina, or even Brazil.

You weren’t trying to eavesdrop on the boys as you walked past the guest bedroom, but the door was open, and they were arguing a little too loudly.

“He’s gone, though,” you recognized Lewis’ English accent. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but he’s gone.”

“Charles, are you sure there was someone?” Lorenzo asked, his tone making it sound like they were well into the argument. “Like there was someone there and you know he fell to the ground?”

“I saw it with my own eyes,” Charles’ voice was steely. “She shot him, and he dropped. I’m pretty sure he was dead.”

“I didn’t see anybody,” Lewis said. “I was in the car, talking to Arthur the whole time. If someone came in and moved the body, we’d know.”

You held your breath, along with everyone else in that room.

It was the Devil who spoke, “How the hell does a man just disappear like that?”

[coastalwind]

Based on who I saw the most on my dash this month, as always

Pls rb so it reaches more people :)

[covenantofthedeep]

small talk; you are in love ☆

feat. | childe, thoma! summary | gradually getting more comfy w them a/n | plsplspls rb :] i hope this was close to what you wanted anon!! pls enjoy!

childe |

childe's used to stunning people into silence, but you've been nothing but silence since you met. one of your common friends had suggested that you two would be really good friends--maybe even more? you had agreed to meet with childe, solely because you figured, what could go wrong?

your first date (or... meet, perhaps) is perfect, except for the fact that you say about twenty words to him in total. he frets about it later; was he really so awful?

the second date, at a coffee shop, is marginally better, where you had tried to force yourself out of your shyness and ended up word vomiting about your feelings on straight black coffee. and then you realized he was holding a cup of black coffee, and you had wished for a giant sinkhole to swallow you up.

the third date, you're absolutely determined to make it enjoyable for both you and him. you ask him if he wants to see a movie you really like, and he agrees, wondering if you'll open up to him this time. (he's completely smitten with you, as much as he's embarrassed to admit.)

after the movie, stepping out into the blinding bright lights, you immediately start chattering. "oh, did you like the music? i swear i got goosebumps! i love movie theater popcorn so much, what about you? what's your favorite candy? honestly, i'm a little hungry, do you want to grab dinner or something? what did you think about the scene where...." you trail off, embarrassed, when childe laughs.

"that's most you've ever said to me," he marvels, winking at you.

and so you continue, dropping your thoughts about anything and everything, and, for once, childe is completely silent, and he honestly wouldn't have it any other way.

thoma |

you've had feelings for thoma since you first saw him at the kamisato estate. you were really close with ayaka at the time, and had seen him nearly every day. unfortunately, you always froze up when he approached, going completely silent.

ayaka had noticed this, and tried to push you two together, despite your protests that haven't you noticed that i can't say anything around him?

and so you wind up having a picnic together, and you have never been more nervous.

unbeknownst to you, thoma had been fascinated with you too--he liked the way that you laughed completely freely with ayaka behind her door, and how you snorted when you laughed. his aim for your picnic-date was to make you laugh like that, although, it appeared, it would be a little difficult.

it's a perfect day, with a spread of foods that would usually have you digging in, but today, you're so incredibly on edge that you've managed to spill the entire pot of tea and upend the tray of katsu sandwiches. quietly cursing under your breath and dabbing in vain at the stain of tea, you wonder why you had gone along with ayaka.

and then he beams at you, and you remember.

"here," he says, ever the gentleman, "leave that alone. it's fine, we can just cover it up with the sangayaki." he shifts the sangayaki onto the stain. "see? it's perfectly fine."

you shake your head at him and smile, reaching for an egg roll, when suddenly, the ridiculousness of it all shocks you, and you drop the egg roll and laugh. then you start wheezing, and snorting, and thoma looks so utterly befuddled that it gets you going again. a minute later, he joins in, holding onto his taiyaki with one hand.

he drops it into his lap, the chocolate spilling out onto his pant leg, and you realize, laughing at him, perhaps all you needed with him was a little push in the right direction.

[daddy-suguru]

CONGRATS ON 9K

i recently found your blog (ive seen it occasionally before. but now ive noticed it a lot more) and i love your writing ! i’ve yet to rb but i plan to later on when i get more free time def 😭

but you reached 9k for a reason so once again congrats to you and i wish you all the blessings in life bb !

i’d like to join the event pls with either tengen or sakuna and body worshipping 👀

That’s sweet of you :3 I’m happy that you’ve been enjoying my works! And I’m so excited to be writing to so many people, nervous bit excited for the support.

I wish you well blessings too dearie :3 and I hope you are drinking plenty of water. Along with treating yourself with the kindness you deserve :3

✑ tags: fem-dom, with sukuna struggling for power, hints of bratty sub!sukuna, ceo!reader, bodyguard!sukuna, established relationship, thirsty sukuna, praise, body worship, sweet yet rough, biting, jealous!sukuna, wine drunk, biting

Your long flowy dress is over Sukuna's head while he kisses the inside of your thigh. Dragging his teeth, aching to bite down the moment you let him. He roughly confesses,

“Hated how they kept looking at you, sexy mama. When you’re mine.” Pressing your heel into his back. Dragging it up his shoulder blade. The visible shiver of Sukuna's body makes your pussy quiver.

"Re-phase that lack bit and I'll let you fuck me how you want to. For being a good boy and not starting a fight." He groans. Praise is something he never knew he craves so much. But when he acted right and you him how amazing he feels.

It gets him off more than anything else. As he takes pride in fucking you, stupid. The strict instructions you give dwindle to plead for more after the third orgasm. He had spoiled you more than the sugar baby he replaced.

Remind Sukuna, "You handled that other drunken son of whatever ceo very well and I'm proud of you Suka." His jaw clenches at the nickname. Sinking his teeth till you cry. Tensing your thighs around his head. While he digs his nails into your other thigh.

Roughly squeezing as he moves your other leg over your shoulder. The sharp, tingly pain shoots up to your pussy. Which Sukuna kisses soon after. Sucking on your pussy through your panties. Licking your clit, before lightly dragging his teeth.

Whimper at the thought of Sukuna biting down on your pussy. Pressing your legs forward, your heels resting on top of his shoulders. He slips out from underneath your dress.

Folding you in two on the sofa, while bunching your dress around your hips. Sukuna does his best to make you feel smaller. Using his bulky height, as he buries his face in your neck, mumbling,

"I'm yours, I'm your..." His voice drops lower, "good boy." His cheeks are burning while it rolls off his tongue. He bites down on your neck to hear your cries. Trailing soft kisses along your neck towards your collarbone.

Grabbing the low neckline of your off-shoulder gown he rips it. Yanking it down to show your breasts. Pulling away to stare at your breasts in admiration. To have you bent up, flustered, tipsy and needy beneath him is something he had been thinking about all night.

Ever since Sukuna watched you get ready he has been wanting to ruin you. Dipping his head, sucking your nipple into your mouth. While ripping your panties off, sinking two fingers past your lips roughly.

Smirking as you gasp, grabbing a handful of his hair and pulling. The pain of you tugging on his hair and your heels pressing into his back is making his cock throb. His own nakedness in the face of your clothes makes him too vulnerable.

Early you made him strip the moment you stepped. Through the door. Then decided on another glass. After you had teased him the entire ride by having him jerk off. But refusing to let him cum. While your moans filled the care, encouraging him to cum. Despite the command, you've given him.

You took your sweet time drinking another glass of wine. While he undressed you with his eyes. All too eager for you to finish his glass and give him the attention he has been craving all night.

He sinks his teeth into your tit. Pumping his fingers faster, massaging your sweet spot, the louder you whine. While he flicks his tongue on your nipple. Slowly he pulls away, scraping his teeth along your soft skin.

Till your tit slips out with a soft pop. He kisses your nipple before telling you, "I want to bite you all over, fondle your soft body ma. Mark your neck, and let everyone know you're taken care of. Before I have you squirt on my cock. I'm the only one who knows how to make your pussy squirt." Dipping his head down biting down on the back of your thigh.

Tensing, squirming, then becoming tense again. Sukuna lets go and moans, "Your squishy thighs are so biteable, I can't help it. Hmmm sexy mama you're dripping. Are you going to cum already?" You're embarrassingly close to cumming. After months of getting to know each other physically, Sukuna knows you too well.

Smirking and remind him, "You still can't cum until I tell you to do. Make me squirt first, then you can stuff me full. Your sensitive, fat cock can hold on till then right?" Creaming on his fingers as Sukuna says,

"How is that a challenge when you're already cumming so quickly from just my fingers, sexy mama."

✑ m.list

[messrsbyler]

Hello!! what do you think about the tag those days? do you have a fav blog? who do you think is saving the tag from dying with posts and theories?

i think the tag is slowly dying tbh and it's sad to see? the reality is that for the past year or so the tag has been kept alive (from what i've seen and my personal experience here) because of art/fic creators and analysis blogs. however, it's been a year since s4 dropped and as i've seen some people around the tag say, everything that could've been analysed or said about byler in the last season or all seasons has already been said. now, i personally LOVE doing analysis even to this day, doesn't matter if i'm probably repeating something someone else spotted and blogged about two months ago. it's fun to make those posts, but we can't ignore that they are becoming repetitive and that side of the tag is burning out. because of that, things like fics/art/headcanons/ficlets/aus are so important now.

we don't have to run out of content to enjoy in our tag, but people should be willing to step outside their comfort zone and accept that canon is limited to what can he done and said about byler. aus however open new doors that this tag hasn't really explored yet, and for some reason there's a bit of resistance? and that leads us to a dead end because then there's no new not repetitive content and the tag starts dying even with its huge following.

another issue is definitely the lack of rb in the tag. i can jump on any post in the byler tag and check the notes and i know the ratio between likes and rbs will be ridiculous. ofc i can't force anyone to rb if they don't want to, but liking a post and not rb kills a post bc it stops reaching new people who will then engage with said post and then it will reach even more blogs. liking does nothing, it's a dummy button.

rb not only allows a post to stay alive, it's also a great opportunity to create conversations in the tags and engage with other people on this side of the internet. and well if you aren't into that or don't like to add tags to every rb, a simple rb still does much more than a like.

i have many fav blogs and i'll probably forget some, but from the top of my head i have @andiwriteordie (writer and au lover) @foodiewithdahoodie (amazing takes and headcanons) @astrobei (writer and artist) @wiseatom (amazing writer) @doriandrifting (analysis and amazing takes) @emblazons (amazing takes and gifs) @mayahawkins (one of the best gif creators in the tag) @perexcri (amazing writer) @likegoldintheair (amazing writer and amazing headcanons/ficlets) @elekinetic (amazing writer and amazing scripts) @kidovna (beautiful art and aus and comics) @noodles-and-tea (art art art i am obsessed) @nnilkyway (again beautiful art) @strangeswift (writer and a fun blog to check out) and many more that i'm probably forgetting right this moment.

if you (anyone who is reading this) have a blog rec pls lmk!!! i'm always looking for new byler content!!

(if you have stonathan blogs recs uh also lmk i need more stonathans on my dashboard thanks)

[oohbuggypie]

hai Punch Out!! buddies 🩷 ive had this little series idea in my head for over a month now; i would like to call it "HOME" !! and though it would take a lot of time, patience, thinking etc., id rlly love to try my best and execute it ! but i genuinely need help to make it happen !! so first things first:

second:: i have a series of questions !! if u can, pls answer in RBs or replies section 🩷

1. what would King Hippo's island look like more in depth ? since Hippo Island is fictional, i think some unrealistic / fun elements could be added: would the sand be a unique color? would the water have unique properties? would there be specific kinds of plants that grow there? anybody that has any deeper and/or fun headcanons about what his island would look like, go wild !! realism does not matter for this one !

2. what kind of car would Macho Man drive ?? i personally have an affinity for old cars so im probably gonna lean more towards those, but more basic questions would be better: what color do you think he'd have the exterior painted? any fun ideas for his special license plate ? any headcanons for special details on the tires, steering wheel, interior, etc.? what color would the interior be?

3. if anybody has some personal experiences or insight into comfort places / restaurants in Berlin, Moscow, Paris, Istanbul, Dublin, Philly, Tokyo, etc., id love to hear abt it so i can get a more immersive gauge into what im working with ! just hearing abt the atmosphere, dishes served, special features, attitudes of people there (if it isn't an isolated spot), etc. would be more than enough help 🩷 this is one of the most important questions i have for this entire idea, so if u would like to ignore any of the questions, don't let it b this one !!

4. what are some general headcanons you have about ANY OF the character's personalities outside the ring ? this is not exclusive to the characters listed in the poll!! do you have any headcanons about their lives back at home ? what do u think they enjoy doing besides boxing ? outside of those questions, literally ANY headcanons regardless of whether u think they're relevant or not is super fun and helpful !!

if i have more questions ill either edit this post or make separate ones ! i don't usually ask specifically for more reach but i would def appreciate reblogs so that the poll can get some votes and i can start compiling ideas from u guys 🩷 this will def take some time and research if i can make it happen but i wanna do this so bad !! thank u 2 anybody who helps w this genuinely < 3

[cryptenby]

I saw your fundraiser and can I just say it’s so heartening to see how it’s reached past your goal. you managed the whole thing so well imo and your posts made it feel like a project or team sport we were doing together. Although I was unable to donate this time I’ve got a really important question that will hopefully help a lot of people if I get it right so I’m keen to hear what you say on it!! I’m training as an urban designer with one of my big goals to be to design disability focused housing to hopefully roll out in every city I can find partnerships in to basically prioritise people like your friend for housing security and a kind of disability union (??) owned housing situation. I’m wondering if from your firsthand experience you might have any tips on what might help your friend? other than being friendly to support animals and workers, easy access to amenities and transport, designed for most convenient cleaning (efficient use of space and efficient use of everything really) the kind of spaces that each unique disabled person might need (rather than having to adapt to a floor plan that wasn’t designed for them), being in an area where the people around are educated about disability and their housing matches the vibe of the area as to not cause any unfriendly feelings, good wifi connection and ease of calling emergency services, wide footpaths, easy street crossing, disabled carpark spots (these are just what I thought of off the top of my head) can you think of anything such a development should include?

(please answer even if you don’t have any ideas, I’ll rb and get more conversation going on it on my blog and hopefully find something workable to design, which when I draw up plans for I can tag you in if you like!)

hello! i’ve seen this, but i was sick for ages and then just didn’t have the brain space to think through all of the questions/suggestions here. initially i can say that this has some good bare bones and i think the only question i immediately came up with is: would this be permanent housing or would it be apartments for rent that are expected to be vacated over time?

you are welcome to shoot me a dm!!

tho pls try to condense it or send multiple messages as large paragraphs turn my brain off 🥲

[soildmud]

also btw guys pls pls pls reblog my art when u like it!!!! it helps me out so much and shows my posts to more people!!!!! i don’t want to take drastic measures like blocking people who don’t rb but i really need you guys to do your part 🙏🏽 i want to take my art further than just a hobby so reblogging anything of mine that you like would do wonders for my reach!!! thanks, love u guys 🩵

[laytonkissmarrykill]

welcome to laytonkissmarrykill!

requests & submissions go into my ask box. i’m currently undecided on whether i will use child & ambiguous/“debatable” characters (while changing the original kmk prompt) but i’m erring on the side of ‘no thanks’. i’m perfectly willing to have a discussion about this as i am still unsure.

i allow characters from all games, including the pw spin-off, but if their picture/information is not readily available on the wiki or similar i expect at least a screenshot of them of some sort — and proof of their age, if needed. ocs are allowed, and the same rules apply to them (“provide an image” and “adult only for now”. picrews, other people’s art and commisions are allowed as images as long as you credit the original artist, and as long as the original artist has said you can use their image. i will catch you up on this.)

also, to stop this blog from running out of content: characters can be resubmitted. generally i will cherrypick as to whom i choose to reappear, but as a general rule of thumb, leave it at least two months before resubmitting, and five before bullying me about it! (bullying here of course being lighthearted, please.)

there is only one mod, so be patient!

i have a pl sideblog that i’ve been trying to get into the habit of using more — @transaltava — so go follow if you want to read my musings (of which there will likely be very little).

personally i don’t really care what pronouns you use for me — same with titles, names, etcetera. i’m also fine with being tagged in polls to boost reach as long as they are pl related.

i have a discord account, as well as a main tumblr. don’t ask me for them unless we are friends, please.

if you make a rb speaking in the tags, i will not screenshot them for propaganda, no matter how eloquently your speech is written. please make your comments in the text field so that i can reblog them and spread the word!!

“can you substitute kiss for fuck?” “can you substitute kill for attack?” and similar questions… yes!!!!! however, these count as special requests — i may cherrypick thusly

ps;; please rb this if you have some form of following!! i really want to get this blog off the ground…

[ankhisms]

ok one lovely person said they wanted to read the writing practice i mentioned being tentative about sharing so here <3 i have some notes and thoughts as well included. since the dont reblog function is still broken pls dont rb this thanks

as a disclaimer i am very rusty with prose which is why im trying to practice it at all since ive mainly been writing poetry and not any prose for the past few years since i felt discouraged about writing prose but now im trying to get myself to practice again. also one thing im aware of is that i have a tendency to accidentally switch between tenses so if you notice that yes i know its something im working on. also both of these arent finished they have gaps between action and thoughts which ive noted in the text

for this first one i havent written the beginning establishing the setting and everything but the premise is hiromu has a dream where he and enter are sitting at a cafe in paris and shenanagins ensue. well not really shenanagins its just a conversation i think their dynamic is interesting and i wanted to explore it in a more neutral not battle related setting so thats why i wrote this

---

(beginning and descriptions of surrounding add here)

hiromus narrows his eyes, "did you hack into my dreams?"

this causes enter to scoff, "really, red buster, you wound me," he rests his chin against his palm and explains, "i havent hacked into anything. you called me here."

"thats ridiculous," says hiromu, blunt even when sleeping.

enter smiles, "oui, ridiculous, perhaps,  but it is true none the less. it would be rude of me to refuse an invitation, dont you agree?" he pauses, and leans over the table to add, "besides, i wouldnt lie to you- at least not here."

hiromu doesnt like that one bit, nor does he believe anything enter could possibly say. still, its not as if enter had invaded his subconciousness and just started torturing him with computer cables. compared to the more avian related nightmares hiromu had, this was pretty tame.

he briefly tries to recall anything he could have possibly read before, even in passing, about how to wake yourself up from a dream. unfortunately for hiromu the only thing that comes to mind is how to wake up a buddyroid from sleep mode. too bad he doesnt just have some kind of power switch like nick or usada. but maybe something similar to that could work, some kind of jolt to his system. people pinch themselves when theyre dreaming, right? or was it something about holding your breath? hiromu cant remember which one is supposed to work, so with a deep inhale he starts pinching his arms.

to enters credit, he doesnt immediately laugh like a madman upon seeing hiromus cheeks puffed out while he frantically pinches his arms. the most he lets out is a quick snort, before reaching over the table to pat hiromus cheek, "your manners are awful," enter says, "weve only just said hello and youre already trying to wake up. you cant possibly hate me that much, mon cher."

the hand against his cheek is warm. of course, most peoples hands should logically be warm to touch, but not enters. the projection of a human shouldnt be warm. did jin ever feel warm? hiromu doesnt feel keen about playing back all the moments during battle when enter had gotten close enough to possibly feel some kind of heat. thus, thinking about his avatar team mate is the better option. except he cant recall any time jin had ever felt warm either. does a dream offer an avatar more humanity somehow?

hes thought about it for too long perhaps, because he hasnt replied and enter is starting to look at him curiously, and so hiromu decides he can dwell on it when hes actually awake. he lets out his breath and swats away enters hand with a scowl for good measure. enter feigns an exaggerated pout, but then he settles back in his seat all the same, keeping his hands to himself.

hiromus cheek still feels warm and itchy, but hell be damned if he lets enter know something he did got under his skin. this too is like a battle, the enemy can find weaknesses even in the smallest of movements. he restrains himself from scratching his face, opting instead to glare more at enter across the table.

his enemy looks different in the cerebral parisian landscape theyve found each other in. for one thing, hes actually wearing civillian clothes rather than his usual long coat or any of his attempts at disguising himself. with enter perched opposite of him wearing a dark turtle neck and a caramel sweater, hiromu is struck by the jarring realization that the avatar almost looks like a normal person. almost, if one didnt already know that the man sitting there was made of code rather than flesh and bone.

eyeing him carefully, hiromu thinks that he catches the slightest glitch at the edge of enters face, an abnormality that is gone by the time hiromu has noticed it. enter may have decided to wear something a little more reasonable for this encounter, but he still isnt fooling hiromu. even in a fashionable sweater theres something off about him.

the rest of his attire aside, he does still have those ridiculous goggles pushed up against his brow, because of course he does. he would fit the part of a cafe loving paris tourist better if he had a silly little beret instead of his trusty eyeware, but hiromu doesnt particularly feel like pointing that out. seeing enter flounce around in a beret isnt exactly an enjoyable thought at the moment.

(add something here)

"ive heard about people going to paris for the first time and getting sick from the shock of how dirty it is," hiromu says, "you should be glad it doesnt smell here."

enters nose wrinkles, "dont say that, you'll ruin my appetite"

"so you have an appetite? its not like you need to eat, right?"

the avatar shrugs, and carefully picks up his fork, saying, "i may have no need for food to survive, but that doesnt mean i cant enjoy it." enter takes his time with slicing off a chunk of the lemon cake between them, and continues, "theres things humans dont need but do none the less, non? your lives are so short after all, why not chase after every little pleasure."

seeming satisfied with himself, enter takes a bite, eyes closed with an exaggerated look of bliss. whatever emotion it is that enter has been trying to elicit from hiromu, hes just growing more annoyed, rolling his eyes and pointedly turning his body away from the cake.

(add something here)

hiromu stands up with a jolt, and the screeching sound of his chair breaks what little illusion of idle cafe chatter this dream had left to offer. he fumes, fists clenched with his gaze set firmly on enter, who only barely looks up to offer a smug smile.

"we," hiromu spits out the word disdainfully, "are nothing alike. theres nothing to compare between us."

despite the outburst of his dining companion, enters expression remains unchanged. if anything, hiromus insistance upon distancing himself has only amused enter further. he laughs, throwing up his hands half heartedly, as if they were old friends having a casual debate rather than mortal enemies with their blades always at each others throats.

"i suppose we should leave it at that then," enter reaches for one final bite of cake, clearly enjoying himself, "this has been lovely, you really should invite me more often, ma puce."

"go to hell," hiromu tells him, and lunges to try and land a punch against that awful smile.

by the time hiromus fist reaches where enters face would have been, the avatar has already disintegrated into a burst of code. orange numbers and the distant sound of laughter linger for a moment in the air, before hiromu blinks awake in his room.

---

this second one i wrote before the first one and im still not very happy with it and might scrap it and try to rewrite it. i couldnt decide what point of view i wanted to write it from between third person pov or vaguely enter talking so it feels muddled to me. this was mainly a kind of train of thought because i had and still have a lot of thoughts about the avatars and what it means to be human and what it means to be an avatar and if they can feel things etc along with enter and escape being their own people and having their own identities and lives. but i feel like i didnt exactly get all the thoughts that i wanted to convey across very well so again im probably going to rewrite this at some point lmao

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86 billion neuron cells, with another million billion synapses connecting the spaces in between, all sending information to and from the brain, the extremities and sensory organs having gathered data from the outside worlds stimulation in order to help the human machine function.

  from ancient calculating tables and tally sticks, to early machines reading punch cards, to alan turings first thought of the modern computer, you could trace an avatars lineage back to the very first time a human began to count just as easily as you could to any of these.

enter and escape are not any of the doomed researchers that crossed the gap between dimensions, whos data was cleanly picked apart from their miserable mortal bones and woven back into the code of their forms. perhaps you can not fault those same humans for their squeamishness at the thought of any person being undone in such a way, let alone a family member. really, nature has functioned like this long before the first digital computer ever graced the earth with its code.

when a deer falls dead in the forest its body becomes food for the rest of the life among the trees, and in time its flesh decomposes and turns to soil. another one bites the dust only to offer up a meal for the starving masses. you are born, you die, and someone finds a way to steal from you long after youre gone. c'est la vie, as we say.

think of it, dear reader, as such; a thousand photos lie before you of humans. pictures of people from across the world, some of them seeming familiar and some of them with faces unknown to you. you can thumb through as many as youd like, but in the end you will always come to the same realization that somewhere, within these people, are bits and pieces of yourself. this one, looking off camera against a gray sky, has your nose. this person, leaning against a bridge and failing to strike a good pose, has your eyes. the next person will have your smile, ectera ectera. you get the picture- ha.

even if you were not flipping through a book of old family records you would still spot bits of yourself in people far away and long dead. this, mon cher, is how i see best fit to consider what it means to be created from composite data, for i assure you one need not be an avatar to be formed in such a way. you have been strung together from bits and pieces of every person your ancestors ever loved.

love, ah. thats another subject we must discuss, sooner or later, i suppose. can a machine love? really now, i wish you would find something else to ask. anything else would be a more stimulating topic of conversation. why must we agonize over such messy details? humans simply can not stop themselves from philosophizing until theyve got nothing left to make a philosophy out of.

what does it matter if a machine could or couldnt love, when plenty of stinking humans have never even thought to act on the very principle they obsess over. love. let us not get sidetracked by such nonsense, we still have other aspects to examine.

delete that last input, page back with me, now think again on the subject of data, and of rebirth. the doomed researchers are not escape, nor are they enter, just as much as you are not the person who first gave you a specific gene in your dna. the researchers were a sample for an experiment greater than any they had ever run through before. do you get it now? do you understand? of course you wouldnt. humans are foolish enough to think they are one of a kind.

   forget about if a machine loves, just what can an avatar feel? if their coding is to be equated to the human nervous system, then is it so hard to consider that they too could find the many vices of the earth pleasurable? enter cursed himself for spoiling messiah, having given the virus too much of a taste of just how splendid human suffering could feel. he was taught pleasure too soon, and greed was already something he knew from birth. enter should have known better than to offer up a plate of food he could not continue to harvest sustainably- not yet, at least. especially when the one gobbling down that harvest throws a tantrum the moment its all gone.

really, is it so terrible to ask for a thank you once in a while? you would think that after devoting your existence entirely to a single being, you might get a few bones thrown your way. in this we could draw another parallel between the humans and machine, where enter is scorned by his messiah in the same vein as humans praying for salvation from some unforgiving god.

i am drifting off course. forgive me, you see a machine can ramble just as easily as a human, non?

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ok yay thanks if you read all or any of this honestly i appreciate it. id love any feedback anyone has including constructive criticism from writer friends but i just ask that you maybe try to be a little gentle with me and remember that im very rusty yknow but i do still appreciate any thoughts or helpful tips thank u again mwah

[squicksquak]

i wish i had more than ten options but!!!! pls participate its for SCIENCE and rb so it reaches more people