#which is my new tag for when I have to retract something

[reasonsforhope]

Withdrew the post on a revolution in Alzheimer's and dementia treatment due to significant issues with data and evidence.

I am not trained in neuroscience enough to fully evaluate - as the below articles point out, these drugs have been receiving a lot of hype for a few years now - but the issues outlined in the below links are definitely persuasive enough that I'm withdrawing the link anyway.

Thanks to @burnishedvictory (I'm 98% sure, I accidentally deleted the post before copying the username) for pointing that out to me.

Here are the articles they linked about the issues with the data:

https://scopeblog.stanford.edu/2024/03/13/why-alzheimers-plaque-attack-drugs-dont-work/

https://www.science.org/content/blog-post/faked-beta-amyloid-data-what-does-it-mean

Anyway! Yes as a reminder/info for new followers, I do retract posts when presented with compelling evidence. If you ever need to fact-check something, you can usually hit up my ask box (tho it's closed right now) or put it in the comments/replies of the post - I'm usually pretty thorough about checking those.

I have to retract something pretty rarely - a few times a year, generally - but I try to be transparent about it when I do.

Finding a new post for today to replace it with now!

[controld3vil]

letting them pick your weapon

pairings: yelena belova, bucky barnes, john walker, robert reynolds/sentry, ava starr/ghost, taskmaster (comic ver.), alexei shostakov/red guardian x gn!thunderbolts!reader

synopsis: The fact that you value their opinion catches them off guard.

notes -> working on requests rn, but inbox’s still open !! I WANNA WRITE MORE tags/cw: inaccurate characterization/have not seen the film, minor scene mention (it’s in the trailer!), descriptions of weapons (flash bombs, bucky’s grappling hook, retractable shield, emergency teleporter, static boots, weapon gauntlet, combat enhanced gloves) headcanons can be read as platonic/romantic

YELENA BELOVA

-> believed you were joking at first. her? you have lost your mind if you thought she would be a good idea to offer advice to. but because it’s you, she’s willing to consider your preferences and style of combat. most of the team already use guns, tactical knives for hand-to-hand combat. you’re a great candidate for any challenge, so she’s not going to pick something easy. if you wanted easy, you would’ve asked someone else. 

“Well, I’m flattered you think so highly of me,” The former Black Widow turned to you with a delighted grin slowly spreading across her face. It’s obvious how smitten she is after your suggestion regarding the weaponry. Valentina had experts for those kinds of things: weapons, gear, and training. Yet, you sought her out for her opinion. Yelena rarely swoons at compliments, but you make her feel lighter on her feet on rare occasions. 

“Is it so wrong not to?” you jest with a smirk. You continued down the hallway of the Tower. The armory is built with a fingerprint pad at the end of the hall. Once you are allowed access, the bulletproof doors open. 

“You’ve got quite the selection,” Yelena notes, her eyes scanning the close-combat display. A few new additions catch her eye – one’s she’s certain weren’t there last week. It’s obvious you favor hand-to-hand combat over long-range, but she has no intentions of making this easy for you. Yelena knows you enjoy pushing boundaries, not just with weapons, but with strategy, roles, anything that keeps you one step ahead. “You’re still positive you want my advice?”

“Of course!” You beam, scanning down the aisles of the collection Valentina has managed to grab for the team. This was something you wished you had, and not just a temporary use. Still, you’re unfazed by Yelena’s pondering. “You’re one of the best I know of.” 

“That you know of,” She corrects, placing her hands on her hips. She’s thinking carefully now. What to give you. Would you like what she suggests? It shouldn’t matter as much, but Yelena now considers your combat style. The way you navigate around the battlefield, how you look both ways before crossing an alleyway. You’re very meticulous when it comes to closed operations, which is why she works so well with you. 

You see her grab something from a barrel, close to the heavy weapons. She holds it in her hand, feeling the weight of it. Her palms bounce the spherical object up and down as if it were a baseball and not something to be messed with. Yelena seems satisfied, as you can tell by the glint in her eyes when she turns to you. Her grin is devilish as she picks up a few more and lays them out in her hands. 

“Flash bombs, huh…” Your expression is neutral, studying them like an ancient artifact. You rarely use them, as it really depends on the mission. If it were a search and rescue, you wouldn’t think to use flash bombs. But then again, it’s slowly that you realize how typical your preferences are. “Never used them.”

“Exactly the point,” the ex-assassin beams with a lighthearted jab. “We rarely use flash bombs– makes it more fun when we do.” 

“So you’re suggesting them because you think they’re fun?” You crossed your arms, a smug smile tugging at your lips. You knew better than to expect Yelena to take your request seriously. She was trying to make peace with a past she rarely spoke of. But still, she had a way of making her life a hell of a lot more interesting.

“Flash bombs are like party tricks–best when no one sees them coming,” she said with a pout, holding one up like it was a priceless treasure.

BUCKY BARNES

-> question your mental fortitude. are you serious? but then he listens to you spouting about his days as the Winter Soldier. he doesn’t think highly of those days but the way you boast about his expertise is almost bizarre. do you admire him? that makes him feel oddly appreciated and conflicted. however because of your persistent pleas (you said please once!), he complies and leads you to his room. 

“Where did you think we were going?” The team leader grumbled, eyes fixed ahead as he passed Walker’s door without so much as a glance. There was a hint of playfulness in his voice–subtle, nearly invisible–but you caught it. You always did with him. 

He didn’t look at you. He rarely did when he was in one of these moods. Still, you followed close behind, practically on his heels like a loyal, overly eager puppy. And you couldn’t have looked more pleased. Because the truth was, you never expected to be allowed into Bucky’s room. 

“I mean no one’s allowed in your room,” you said, your voice light, stating the obvious. 

That made him stop. 

Bucky turned to look at you, his expression unreadable. To anyone else, he probably seemed annoyed–grim even. But you had spent enough time watching the subtle gestures to notice the truth. The slight droop in his eyes. That flicker of something softer. 

“Well– you’re the leader,” you added quickly, voice quieter now, “and out of respect, I just… never thought I’d be invited.” Now he looks at you even more deeply. Great, now he looks like a kicked puppy. 

“I mean, I appreciate the kind assumption, but really–” he pauses, eyes locking onto yours with surprising intensity. “You’re always welcome. If you need anything, that is.” 

You nod, taking in the quiet sincerity in his words. For a moment, it felt like you two had cleared the air. The weight of the conversation felt lighter, more comfortable. 

When he opens the door, he steps aside to let you enter first. 

Bucky’s room is nothing out of the ordinary. It was plain and expected, maybe, but not without hints of the man who lives there. A few photos hang crookedly on the wall. Clothes are scattered on the floor, like they were left there in a hurry or maybe forgotten. He doesn’t spend much time here, but it’s undeniably his space.  

“Sorry for the mess.” He passes by you and heads to his closet. You watch as he grabs a case, pulling it down with the kind of care that says it’s something important. You have no idea what’s inside, but you can guess. What screams Bucky Barnes? Probably a custom-modified handgun. Maybe a combat knife with a story behind it.

“Here it is,” he says, setting the case down on the bed. You stare at it, curiosity buzzing as he unlatches the safety lock. His gaze flicks to yours for a split second before he opens it. And when you finally see what’s inside, you can’t help it. 

You laugh.

Bucky turns to you, almost abruptly. “What’s so funny?”

Your eyes cross his. “Is this the grappling hook you used to destroy that military vehicle when you were chasing us?” Recognition flickers in his face. The realization hits him–it is the same one. And for a moment, his expression is as unforgettable as the day you first saw him, tearing across the empty drylands on that motorcycle like something out of a war film.

“Oh… right,” Bucky says, rubbing the back of his neck, guilt creeping into his voice. “Sorry. I didn’t exactly plan that part out.”

“It’s alright…” You said softly, placing a hand on his shoulder. The light streaming through the window catches the gleam of his metal arm, making it shine with an almost haunting beauty. “We're past that now.”

His eyes held a longing, a deep, mysterious intensity that you couldn’t quite figure out. He glances back at the grappling hook, it’s been since the beginning of your journey together as a team. He hasn’t used it since then, storing it as a keepsake, but now he’s looking at you.

“It’s yours now."

JOHN WALKER

-> gives you a skeptical look. you know yourself best, why would you go out of your way to ask him? doesn’t turn down the suggestion, but will constantly ask you why. He's been in the military, served two tours in Afghanistan. All he’s ever good for is punching things and shooting. And now, Valentina has given him a mediocre shield in place of Captain America’s. It’s safe to say he doesn’t choose his weapons, he earns them.

“I thought Yelena would be the one to ask, not you.” Walker doesn't seem just mildly annoyed; no, he’s genuinely in disbelief. No one’s ever asked him for a weapon before, and while his options were somewhat limited, he’s beginning to think that with the super serum coursing through him means he’s capable of more than he used to be. But his go-tos have always been the same: his shield and gun.

“You’re a strong guy,” you shrug casually, stripping off the protective gear you’d brought along. The two of you had just finished an operation, and the exhaustion was settling in, yet you couldn’t ignore the curiosity that spurred your suggestion. “I trust your instincts.”

Walker just stares at you, the look on his face speaking volumes. Seriously? He’s caught off guard. After everything that’s happened, now you’re asking him? But you can see he’s weighing your words, even if it’s only for a moment.

“You should trust your intuition,” he says, his tone softening just a little, though the faint skepticism still lingers. “Choose whatever you’re comfortable with.” 

“Comfortable?” You raise an eyebrow, pretending to think it over. “Well, if comfortable means picking a weapon that might get me killed, then… sure, I’m all in.” You smile, as if this were no big deal, even though deep down, the weight of your decision isn’t lost on you. “I trust you enough to make it interesting.” 

The former soldier exhales, clearly irritated, though mostly with himself. You weren’t going to give up, and he knew it. If he let this go now, you’d just come back tomorrow with the same question. You were rarely this persistent, but when you were, there’s no way of convincing you out of it. He could either make a decision now or risk you asking him again later. 

“Fine,” he muttered, scanning the armory. 

As you busied yourself, putting away gear and organizing supplies, Walker moved around the racks, his eyes flickering over the options. But the more he looked, the more he found himself caught in a mental loop. 

The rifle? Too heavy. That pistol? Not enough range for someone with your skills. That polearm? Too awkward for you to wield efficiently.

Finding a weapon that matched your needs, something that fit your style, was proving to be harder than he anticipated. He muttered under his breath, his frustration slowly building. Then he stole a glance at you, assessing. His eyes narrowed, running through the possibilities. He paused. The mission… in that moment. He remembered how you struggled to dodge the bullets while also taking down some thugs. His gaze lingered for a moment longer before he sighed and reached for something on a high shelf. 

Before he makes it down, you’re already by his side. 

“Whatcha got there?” You look eager, excited by the fact that Walker was this tolerant of your persistent pestering, that he’s willing to go through with his promise. 

“A retractable shield.” He removed the cover, and there it was. The shield was smaller compared to Walker’s, but confident in size to contract in and out like a gadget. It had a charred black matte finish, with dark silver lining across the edges. It had an adjustable cuff. It resembled similarly to a Wakandan shield, which Bucky saw during his time there. It was beautiful. “It was a prototype Valentina had ordered for me, but I never used it. I got this one already,” he gestured to his shield, clasped behind his back. 

“If you like, you can keep this one.” 

“Wait—really?!” 

“I mean— I don’t use it, so it’s all yours,” he says delicately, placing it into your hands. “I can teach you a few tricks, too, if you like.”

ROBERT REYNOLDS/SENTRY

-> extra extra nervous. you asked the guy who doesn’t need weapons or any kind of gadget to fight. if any of the members were in the room, they would be looking at you like you were crazy. bob’s first answer is no, but after seeing you pout at his refusal, he’s quick to please you. but then again, he has no idea what he’s doing. 

“Okay! Knives, guns—uh, what are you looking for?” You appreciate the effort of his trying to act like he knows what he’s doing. But he’s trying desperately to meet your expectations. Bob looks nervous, like a lamb to the slaughter in the weapons room, jumping from cabinet to cabinet, looking at all of the variety. 

“Just something new to try out,” You grin, letting his nervous energy follow him around. You stand by the doorway and watch as Bob tries to analyze each piece of equipment. 

“Uhm���are you looking for something practical or—“ 

“Bob,” that startles him, making him freeze momentarily before meekly turning to face you. He was expecting you in mad rage, yet you weren’t. You just had a cute, goofy smile on your face. “Pick something with your heart. I know whatever you choose will be fine.” 

It’ll be fine. He thinks to himself, before nodding, allowing his nerves to slowly subside. Bob takes a deep breath, and in slow strides, he reaches out to something. 

When he turns, your gaze follows, all innocent and cute. 

“Ahh, an emergency teleporter!” You’re in awe because it was something you didn’t think Bob would pick as his first choice. There were plenty of gadgets you thought of— force fields, bulletproof vests, iron-plated brass knuckles. 

“Thought it might come in handy,” he nervously laughs, fiddling with the device, not knowing what to do with his hands. “Uhm— you know, in case you have to go on missions with me— and I don’t know— if something were to happen—“ 

You could practically see his thoughts unraveling from where you stood, Bob always rambled when he was anxious. But the fact that he was worrying about your safety left a warm, fluttery feeling in your chest. 

“Hey– I get it,” you say gently, taking the teleporter from his hand. Only then does he realize he’d been speaking out loud, not just thinking it. He freezes, suddenly stiff and wide-eyed, like a deer caught in headlights. Embarrassed and tense. You offer a reassuring smile, one that says you don’t mind if anything, you appreciate it.

“It’s smart to have a backup plan,” you add. “And hey, maybe once this mission’s over, we’ll use it to teleport straight to that pizza place.”

AVA STARR/GHOST

-> pokes fun at you. jokes about all the possibilities of how you’ll slip up with whatever item she picks. obviously you don’t take it to heart, but ava’s light-hearted nature is a breath of fresh air— after so many grueling missions, her jokes are something that keeps you motivated for the next. need advice on using the element of surprise? she’s your gal! 

“I mean, come on–sneaking in with suppressed pistols but still blowing the whole operation?” Ava giggles, clearly enjoying herself while you look away, pretending to be interested in the horizon. 

“It was one of my first missions, okay?” you snap, pouting as a hot mix of embarrassment and irritation bubbles up inside you.

“Yeah, yeah—amateur,” she teases, ducking her head and biting back another laugh. 

“Oh, like you didn’t have any screw-ups when you started?”

“Don’t even get me started.” 

You raise a brow. “Well? I’m listening.” 

“I’m not telling you,” Ava says with a teasing hum as she strolls toward the armory, already scanning the gear selection menu. You trail after her, fuming. 

“I just told you my most embarrassing story, and you won’t even share yours? That’s not fair!” Steam practically pours from your ears. You’d laid bare your humiliating failure, and Ava–cool, composed Ava, refuses to give even a scrap in return. 

But instead of responding, she flashes a sly smile. “Because I got you something better.” She stops in front of a reinforced gear locker, a sleek metal container stacked with tactical essentials: vests, gloves, helmets. Everything you’d expect. But apparently, Ava has something different in mind. You pause, watching as she places her hand on the scanner. With a soft click and mechanical hiss, a hidden shelf slides out. 

It gleams. Brand new. Sleek like fresh sneakers out of the box. Ava hums before she accesses the armory, heading to the gear selection. 

“For when you’re trying not to sound like a herd of elephants,” she smirks, nodding to a pair of matte-black static boots. She leans casually against the frame, one eyebrow raised in silent amusement.

You blink at her, deadpan.

“Seriously?” 

“I mean, I can hear you walk from your bedroom to the kitchen–from my room,” Ava says, casually shrugging like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. 

You blink. That’s new information.

“Wait… I’m just a loud walker?” She gives you a pointed look, and suddenly it all clicks. “That explains why Walker’s always giving me weird looks,” you mutter, half to yourself. “Guess my feet have a mind of their own.”

Ava snorts. “No, love–you just have really bad shoes.”

TONY MASTERS/TASKMASTER

-> looks your way in deep silence. for how long you’ve known each other, you’re starting to believe tony chooses not to talk. he expresses much more with his actions, such as offering you extra bullets, or medical tape if things go south. tony is an experienced man with many talents, he’s able to copy and replicate his opponent’s moves. he’s done the same with teammates, with you when training, allowing you to point out the mistakes you hadn’t seen there before. sometimes you think he knows you better than yourself. 

“A weaponized gauntlet, huh?” you say, not even pretending to be surprised when Tony hands it to you, seemingly out of thin air. No trip to the armory, no formal request. Apparently, Tony knew you were going to ask him about this and waited for you to ask. 

You study the gauntlet closely, fingers tracing its sleek design. Every button, switch, and panel feels deliberate. Precise. You press one. Click! A retractable blade slides out with satisfying ease. Another press–a grappling line. Then a short-range stun charge. Then a blinding flash ejector. You can’t help it. A grin creeps across your face.

This was so him. 

Tony embodied versatility in his work. He didn’t rely on brute force–he struck with speed, precision, and timing. This gauntlet? This gauntlet was just like him: tactical, efficient, and sharp.

“Thank you,” you say softly, still a bit in awe as you reset the device to its default mode. Your eyes are locked on the gauntlet, taking in every detail. But Tony’s? His eyes haven’t let you once. 

If the circumstances were different, you might’ve mistaken this moment for something romantic.

“It’s pretty neat, has everything I need,” you say, trying to fill the silence with something, anything. You don’t mind the quiet, not really, but sometimes the stillness between you feels too heavy not to break. Tony doesn’t reply. Not verbally, at least. But you can tell his focus has shifted, drawn in closer. He’s leaning slightly toward you now, just enough for you to notice the space closing. 

You feel compelled to try the gauntlet on. As you unfasten the straps and slide it onto your wrist, it clamps down, not tightly, threatening. More like a perfectly fitted bracelet. Secure and purposeful. There’s a subtle hum as the device calibrates, adjusting to the shape of your hand. The pressure eases, and it begins to feel more like a part of you than an accessory. Almost like a second skin. 

Tiny scanners flicker along your fingertips, mapping them precisely–each digit now linked to a specific function, a silent promise of the power you had. You lift your pointer finger, and almost instantly, a blade slides out with fluid precision. 

“This feels like straight-up nanotech…” You murmur, raising your wrist toward the ceiling light, eyes wide with wonder. You probably look like a kid on Christmas morning. If a civilian saw you now, they might assume you’d completely lost it. 

“Where did you even get this?” you ask, unable to hide your curiosity. Tony tilts his head, deliberate and unreadable. You already know he won’t answer, but that never stopped you from asking him pointless questions anyway. It’s become a quiet repetition between you. 

You lower your arm, bring the gauntlet down to chest level–just enough to create a sort of invisible line between you and him. A barrier, but a playful one. 

“If you ever need it,” you say, mimicking his earlier head tilt with a smile, “just ask.”

ALEXEI SHOSTAKOV/RED GUARDIAN

-> very excited. so excited you asked him! alexei is really a lovable guy— even though he often doesn’t use any weapons or gadgets, he thinks of his teammates whenever he goes out window shopping. he sees a new brand Glock 19 by the window? yelena would love it! an energy stabilizer on the dark web? bob’s gonna flip! but you? good old you get special treatment because he’ll personally get you whatever you want. 

“When I heard you needed a new weapon, I was so happy!” Alexei beams as the two of you make your way into the living room. His accent thickens with excitement as he waves a hand. “Not in a bad way, of course, but it’s good, da? Trying something new!” 

“You get me, Alexei,” you say, arms crossing instinctively. Apparently, you weren’t the only one picking up on your growing restlessness. Same weapons, same tactics, and same rhythm, it all started to feel stale. You figured switching things up might help you see things differently. 

Everyone on the team had their niche. Alexei, with his brute strength. Bucky, his guns, and that metal arm. Ava could phase through about anything. Everyone had their thing. And you? You’d been stuck in the same position for far too long. 

“That is why I was so excited when I found this,” he says, crouching to pull a box from under the couch with a mischievous grin. 

Your brows lift, your curiosity piques. “What’ve you got?”

“Close your eyes!” he orders, and you obey, hands outstretched like a kid waiting for a surprise. Behind your closed lids, you hear the ripple of tape, the crinkle of bubble wrap, and then clank... a solid metallic sound, followed by the stretch of fabric. Then something is gently placed into your palms. 

It’s lighter than you expect. Smooth and flexible, but as your fingers trace further, you find the contrast, the cold, hard metal beneath the fabric. 

“Open your eyes!” he announces, barely able to contain his excitement. 

You do. And you’re impressed.

Combat-enhanced gloves, sleek Kevlar-weave across the surface, making your hands feel impossibly light and agile. Carbon-titanium plates reinforce the knuckles and strike zones, and the inside? A smart gecko-grip polymer, designed to boost grip on any surface. 

You stared, stunned. Not just by the gloves, but by the fact that Alexei went through the trouble to find them. Valentina might have gotten you something, if she wasn’t constantly ranting about budget cuts. But this? This came from someone who genuinely wanted to help. 

“You really are the best,” you say, laughing softly as you wrap your arms around his neck, the gloves still clutched in your hands. He lets out a big, satisfied huff of a laugh, and when you pull back, his smile nearly outshines the room.

Who could hate him? You hadn’t known Alexei that long, but somehow he already understood you better than most. 

“I know you like your shooting and whatnot,” he says, mock innocent. You roll your eyes and give him a playful jab to the shoulder. 

“But I also know,” he grins, “you really like punching things. So I thought–'Hey, you know who’d love combat gloves?’”

You can’t stop smiling. It actually hurts a little, but you don’t care. 

“Then I saw them, just sitting there in the market! I couldn’t believe it. Like the universe wanted me to buy them for you!”

“Universe said received,” you say, voice bubbling with gratitude and affection. You look down at the gloves, then back at Alexei. You’ll get him something too. Not because you owe him, but because it’s rare to be known like this. And his gift? 

It’s perfect.

[parfaitblogs]

daylight ❀ s. reid x reader

in which communicating with your boyfriend is scary, and spencer reid can't stand to see you cry.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: comfort/fluff! tags: reader avoids her issues... for a little bit. that's kind of it. it's just fluffy and simple! word count: 1.5k a/n: something short & sweet because i thought it was cute and i write the most when i'm procrastinating assignments... um… inspired by a conversation sam willow and i were having a few nights ago🫂 reminder that pretty girls cry when they’re confronting somebody!!

Spencer Reid was not oblivious to all things in the world. In fact, he was rather perceptive compared to most people. Psychology degree and human behaviour-based job aside, he noticed things. 

A lot of it was good. He knew exactly how to wake you up on mornings he started earlier than you. How to keep you half-asleep enough to allow you your return to sleep, but also awake enough to ensure you'd remember him kissing you goodbye (there had been an argument a few months ago about it — you thought he had left without a word). He knew your go-to Thai order from the restaurant down the street, and he knew which pair of wooden chopsticks your favourite were to pull out of his kitchen drawers. 

He was also observant enough to know something was wrong. 

He was back from a case. A long one, that had worn him down enough that he felt like a pile of creaking bones when he re-entered his apartment earlier that afternoon. You had returned from your own job an hour after that, and despite the initial excitement that came from your boyfriend being back in the state again, you were a bundle of nerves. 

And he knew that.

You were on his couch, legs across his lap and back up against the arm, his hands resting comfortable in the dip between your two knees. There was a quiet episode of New Girl playing on the television (you had convinced him to watch it after he had sat you through every Star Trek movie), but your thoughts were anywhere but the sitcom you had been using to entertain yourself as of recent. 

"You've been awfully quiet," Spencer said, piercing the less than comfortable air settled around you two. 

"Sorry," you answered, tearing your gaze from the screen to look at him, meeting a worried expression you had somewhat expected. 

Hands ran up and down your legs, erupting goosebumps along the skin. "Is something wrong?" 

"No," you immediately shook your head and forced a smile onto your face. "Nothing's wrong."

He furrowed his eyebrows, lips parting in that confused look he always had on his face when he was thinking, and he stared at you for a few seconds longer, before, "Yes there is."

Profilers. "Seriously, Spence. There isn't. I'm just kind of tired tonight."

"I am as well," he said, hands stilling on your legs rather abruptly. "I was in Idaho for a week. I'm also exhausted. And usually my girlfriend is a little touchier and more talkative than this when I come home. So I'm assuming something's wrong."

"You're assuming incorrectly, then," your shoulders shrugged.

He said your name chidingly, and it was at that tone of voice that you retracted your legs from his lap, instead tucking your feet beneath yourself, gaze dropping to the couch cushion. 

"I just missed you," you told him, a slight stretch of the truth. 

"I missed you too," he said, and your shoulders softened. "But that's not all it is."

You blinked, before you fell silent, shaking your head instead. 

"Talk to me. What's happened?" his voice was achingly soft, your heart shattering in your chest to the point you wanted to take back every thought you'd had over the past week and burn them to ashes. They didn't mean much now in front of him. Not when he was reminding you of how kind he was. 

"You barely talked to me," you said, hands dropping to your lap, and you fidgeted with them under his gaze. "I never knew what was going on. You didn't call once, except for when you landed."

"I was really busy, honey," he answered, and you could hear the frown in his voice. "If I had time to do anything other than the case and sleep, you know I'd have talked to you more." 

"I know," your voice shook, and you could feel your emotions overriding your brain. As usual. So, you kept your head down. "But I would've liked you to tell me that, at least."

You heard him sigh, and curiosity got the best of you as you lifted your gaze, inspecting to see if he was sighing out of irritation or not. He wasn't — just exhaustion — and that made you feel a little better.

"I know for next time then," he said, and he met your eyes, which had watered since the last time he looked at you. Which wasn't very long ago, and so he was drawing his eyebrows together, again, confusedly. "What's that? What's wrong?"

On instinct he leaned forwards, and you let him shift his body closer to yours, hands coming up on either side of your neck. You sniffled, trying to suck the tears threatening to fall back into your eye sockets. 

"I can't communicate," you mumbled, quietly, a tear escaping and dripping down to the lower half of your cheek. 

"You communicated pretty well just then, angel," he said, voice soft as he caught the remainder of the tear and swiped it away with his thumb. 

"Yeah but—but now I'm crying," you moaned, pathetically, more tears slipping down your face. His lips twitched — though not in humour, you noted — as he adjusted his hands to your jaw, thumbs continuing to wipe falling tears. 

"Yeah. That's okay," he answered. "You've got a flood of hormones going through you right now, and so your body reacts to it in the best way it sees fit. In your case, it's tears."

"I hate it," you mumbled, and this time he did laugh a little, nodding his head. 

"I know," he said. "Are you feeling embarrassed about communicating with me?"

"I guess," you replied. "I don't know. I think I just..." you trailed off as your voice disappeared, breath beginning to hyperventilate acutely. "I—I just feel kind of sil—silly."

You cursed each sob that broke up your speech, and yet his gaze and focus on you never once wavered. In fact, his touch seemingly had grown softer, and the concern in his eyes had only grown. 

"You aren't silly," he said, once he was sure you weren't going to continue speaking. "If me not talking to you for a week upset you, I'd say that's pretty reasonable."

"I don't know..."

"Want a secret?" he asked, fingers poking into your cheeks enough for you to crack a small smile. You only nodded your head in response, chest still jolting with each sharp intake of breath. "I have to physically restrain myself from calling you every hour on a normal day."

"You're lying," you mumbled, and his smile only widened, a bashful laugh leaving his lips. 

"No, honestly. I have so much I want to talk to you about during the day, and I need to remind myself that you're busy and at work too."

A few uncontrollable tears dripped down your face, and your gaze dropped to the top of his shirt, though the smile never left your face. "I don't believe you."

"I wish you would, but that's okay," he said, evidently seeing right through your defying statement — you believed him a little.

His forefinger and thumb caught your chin, and he tilted your head back up so his eyes could meet your glassy ones. 

"I'm sorry," you murmured, before he could get a word in.

"For what?"

"Crying."

"Do you take in anything I say to you?" he chastised, though the smile on his face eliminated any fear of him being genuinely irritated, and so your shoulders simply shrugged. 

"Sometimes," you said, and his eyebrows shot up. 

"Sometimes?" he repeated back to you, and you had to bite your lip to keep the amused expression off your face. He was smiling back at you, before his face settled into something more serious, as he continued, "I don't mind you crying, angel. It breaks my heart to see it, but I'm not sitting here and judging you for it. You know that, right?"

"Yeah."

"Good," he finalised with a short nod, and you sniffled with a nod of your own. 

"I mean, technically, crying is good," you said, tongue poking between your teeth as you forced back a smile. 

"Yeah? Why's that?" 

"Releases endorphins and oxytocin."

He huffed a single laugh through his nose, nodding his head. "Yes. It does."

"I know things," you grinned. 

"You do," he agreed with a nod. "My smart girl."

"Yeah. Don't ever forget it."

"I could never," he replied, and a comfortable silence enveloped your two bodies, your heart fluttering in your chest. 

"Can you tell me about Idaho?" you finally asked him.

"You really want to know?" 

You nodded your head, and he sighed, but complied regardless. And you eventually found your head in his lap, staring up at him as one hand danced gently over the skin of your slightly exposed stomach, the other entangled in your hair, brushing through it. 

And he told you about the case he had been away on — it became glaringly obvious behind why he hadn't called or messaged you at all — and consequently eased any other remaining worries behind it.

And it dried your tears up.

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated ♡

[littlejuicebox]

Dadstarion prompt (sorry if I missed the boat on this!) - insecure postpartum Tav, struggling with their new body. Maybe some body worship from Astarion 👀? (Personal experience - I really struggled postpartum with adjusting to my new body, it changed in ways I never even imagined). Thank you and just want to say I love your Astarion 🥰

Adore You

Thanks for your request! Not 100% sure this is what you were looking for, but I already had a mostly finished piece I was working on that definitely fits the body-worship and Tav struggling with her body parts of this prompt. It's smut, though, and when the smut gods bless, I cannot deny their gifts.

Glad you love my Astarion! I adore him. And he adores his Tav. ;)

Summary: You are struggling with your post-partum body. Astarion is here to remind you that he still adores you.

This follows my Dadstarion section of my AstarionxReader series. But no worries, you can read it as a OneShot. Here’s the gist: Astarion is mortal and you have three children together. Gale, named after the Wizard of Waterdeep and the twins. That’s about all you need to know! See my other fics for more info and storylines.

Tags/Warnings: smut with a plot, body image issues, angst w/ comfort, PiV, fingering, oral, light overstim, light daddy kink, breast milk, breast milk drinking, all the depravity i'm generally known for tbh, light creampie kinda?

Word Count: 2.8K

A/N: I'm an unhinged degenerate and no I won't apologize. Also women’s bodies are amazing and can produce life and are beautiful and my Astarion appreciates that about his Tav okay?

“Thank the gods for the nanny,” Astarion says with a dramatic sigh as he enters the bedroom, closing the door quietly behind him, “Gale was about to make me read ‘P is for Peacock’ a third time and I was close to ripping my hair out, darling.” 

You chuckle softly as your husband greets you from where you’re seated at the vanity with a brief kiss and then moves to the small table in the corner of your bedroom to pour himself a goblet of wine. 

“And the twins?” He asks as his eyes watch the red liquid fall into the cup beneath it. He takes a few sips as you speak before setting the cup back down on the table.

“I’ve just fed them not too long ago and now they’re both asleep. Having Winifred to help me get them on the same schedule has been wonderful.” You respond as your husband nods and prepares a second, smaller goblet of wine, which he brings to you.

He settles himself beside you while you finish braiding your hair for bed and hums contentedly, “Perfect.”

Astarion’s hands wrap around your midsection and before you can stop yourself, you feel your body tense under his touch. The silver-haired elf pauses and frowns before retracting his hands, “Do you not want me to touch you, darling? You need only tell me.” 

You sigh and shrug as you finish off the half-portioned goblet in one long drink, mostly to avoid your husband’s gaze,  “It’s not that, it’s— it’s stupid.” 

“Look at me, little love.” He whispers, his fingers coming under your chin as they gently coax you to face him and meet his gaze. He moves forward and presses a soft kiss against your lips before continuing, “I love you. More than anything. You know this. Now, won’t you tell me whatever is the matter so that I can help?”

Your husband waits as you gather your thoughts. It’s complicated, it’s embarrassing. You know it’s silly, and vain, and yet you can’t help yourself. And you aren’t quite sure how to verbalize it all.

“I hate my body.” You finally say, your voice cracking as you speak, and something about finally saying that evil little thought aloud causes tears to spring in your eyes. 

Astarion’s mouth falls open in surprise and then he furrows his brows and quickly wraps his arms around your shoulders, not knowing what to say or do apart from physically enveloping you in his love. 

You continue on, speaking into his neck, sniffling as a few more tears run down your cheeks, “After Gale, I quickly returned to my previous weight. I hadn’t had any stretch marks. But carrying the twins— it’s different, Astarion. And I was expecting it to an extent but I just— I hate my body and I hate the way I look.” 

There is a moment of silence as your husband simply holds you against him, allowing space for your tears. When he speaks, his voice is a soft murmur into your hair, “Not that you should care what I think, but I adore your body, darling. And I love everything about the way you look.” 

You scoff and withdraw from your husband with teary, reddened eyes narrowed at him, “You have to say that.”

“I do not have to do anything,” He retorts, arching his eyebrow in a challenge, “Weren’t you the one that taught me that?” 

When you don’t respond, Astarion continues on, knowing he’s won. He takes your hand in his, gently lifting it to press a kiss against your knuckle. 

“I adore your hands. Which have both slain monsters and soothed our children,” He whispers before trailing kisses up your arm and to your neck where he presses another reverent kiss against those little fang scars. 

“I adore your neck, which once provided me with sustenance I hadn’t known in centuries.” 

Your face is beginning to grow hot under his devoted attention and compliments, and you move to shrink away from your husband, but he gently grabs you by the waist. He leans into you and brushes his nose at the meeting point between your ear and neck as he inhales the smell of your skin. 

“Why are you trying to hide from me, darling?” He asks with a little sulky pout, his chin resting on your shoulder. 

“I’m not, I—“ You begin, but Astarion quickly shushes you. 

“Then just be quiet and let me adore you, hm?” He asks before running his tongue against those fang marks, making you shiver. 

You nod slightly and your husband grins, “Good girl. Now, come here.” 

Astarion pats his lap and you slide to sit upon his thighs, forgetting your finished goblet on the floor underneath your vanity stool. He rests his chin upon your shoulder as the two of you gaze in the mirror together. 

“Do you remember when I used to do this all the time?” Astarion asks, not truly waiting for a response before his long fingers trace down the side of your neck, brush along your collarbone, and then wander toward your waist, aiming to untie your dressing gown. He moves slowly and watches your expression in the mirror, waiting for you to give him any indication to stop. 

But you didn’t want him to stop. Despite your feelings about your body, you still deeply crave your husband’s comforting touch. 

The silky fabric slips down your shoulders and pools around your waist, baring you before his adoring eyes. The elf smiles and presses a kiss to the back of your shoulder, still watching the two of you in the mirror. 

“Beautiful,” He whispers as he peppers a few kisses up your shoulder and the back of your neck, igniting a trail of goosebumps across your skin.

Astarion slowly drifts his hands up your sides before moving to cup a heavy, milk-stretched tit in each hand. The sensation causes you to wriggle. 

His tone is reverent, almost a whisper as he turns his head just slightly and flashes a toothy grin, his lips brushing against your ear as he speaks, “I adore your breasts, which have fed our eldest and now feed our twins.”

He chuckles salaciously before saying the next part, “And which, on more than one delicious occasion, have also fed me.”

Your husband lightly teases circles around your nipples as he finishes the line that he knows will cause you to blush and then gently nips at your ear lobe, earning him a gasp. You feel Astarion’s arousal pressing into your backside as he continues to caress your breasts and uses two fingers from each hand to tease and stimulate your nipples. You arch into his touch and your thighs press together as you feel a growing slickness between your legs from his attentions. 

One of your breasts begins to leak milk, and when your husband feels the warm liquid dripping onto his fingers he hums and brings the digits to his lips. You watch in the mirror as Astarion dips the two fingers into his own mouth and licks them clean while continuing to tease your other breast. 

It isn’t long before that one begins leaking, too, and your lover chuckles in delight as he watches the liquid gold trail down the bottom of your breast and languidly drip down your stomach. 

The elf brings two fingers to slowly swipe up the stream of white liquid. Then he brings those same fingers to your lips, prompting you to open your mouth.

“Good girl,” He purrs before pressing those two digits against your tongue. Astarion lingers for a moment and you shut your eyes as you eagerly wrap your lips around his slender fingers and suck. You hear a little hum by your ear and feel your lover’s cock twitch in delight underneath you as he observes the scene.

“You are a vision, love.” He murmurs, as he slides his hand away from your lips, “Now, let me take care of you the way you deserve.”

The elf gestures for you to stand, causing your robe to completely slide off your body into a pool on the floor, before he quickly spins you and then hoists you onto the vanity desk. The smallest flicker of that arrogant rogue dances across his face as Astarion moves forward to dip his tongue into your mouth. He unhurriedly teases your tongue against his as he roams his hands up and down your torso until you're panting and moaning softly into his mouth. 

When he retracts, his pupils are filled with lust. His hands come to quickly pull his shirt over his head and then undo the laces of his trousers. Before long he’s standing in front of you in only his small clothes. 

Astarion grabs your hand and guides it to the bulge straining between his legs as he asks, “Do you feel what that divine body of yours does to me, little love?” 

“Yes– my love, I want–” You begin as you eagerly try to delve your hand inside your husband’s undergarments, desperate to free his gorgeous cock. But he catches your wrist and stops you with a soft tut and a playful glint in his eyes. 

“Soon. But not yet, darling. I haven’t quite finished adoring you yet. And I’ve got the best seat in the house.” He teases, before settling himself back onto the vanity bench and grinning mischievously up at you, “Now, be a good girl and open those beautiful, plush thighs of yours for me, won’t you?” 

You oblige, and Astarion takes a moment to admire you, fully barren to him and already soaked with arousal. His arms come under your knees, spreading you wider for him, as he grips your thighs with his hands. Then he turns and begins pressing tender kisses up your thigh. He makes slow work of the task, humming contentedly on his journey toward your sex and always lingering longer in the spots where you’ve developed stretch marks. 

By the time his face is right in front of your mound, you’re positively leaking for Astarion and he groans appreciatively at the sight. 

“Beautiful. I will never tire of seeing that gorgeous cunt dripping for me, darling,” He murmurs and before you can respond, your husband is delving his tongue between your folds and eagerly feasting upon your juices. 

You moan in delight when Astarion brings his tongue to trace around your clit, so familiar with your preferences that it doesn’t take long for him to coax you toward your peak. His tongue dances expertly around the swollen nub, each pass causing your pleasure to build. Two of his long, pale fingers slide into you, meeting no resistance, and he slowly pumps the digits in and out of your walls. 

You grasp onto Astarion’s curls and whine when he adds a third finger, and he knows you’re close, so he continues his ministrations and adds more pressure as he curls his fingers just so. His other hand comes up to find your nipple and tease it between his fingers as you climb the final steps toward your climax. 

A final flick of Astarion’s tongue, a final stroke of his fingers, and you burst with pleasure, whining in delight as your thighs tremble on either side of his head. Your walls spasm and send another gush of arousal onto the elf’s face. You begin leaking breast milk once again. 

“Delicious,” Your husband murmurs as he pulls back slightly to admire the glistening of your sex and then presses forward and takes one more lap of your sensitive folds, causing you to buck into his mouth as he chuckles against you. Astarion languidly runs his tongue up to your stomach, lapping at the thin rivulets of milk running down your torso and covering his face in a shiny layer of your juices and breast milk.

Then he stands to his full height and finally— finally— steps out of his small clothes. His pale cock springs proudly from its confinement, dripping thin strings of pre-come from the reddened tip, just for you. 

“Get over here, Astarion,” You eagerly demand, voice hoarse from your cries as you hook your legs around his torso and pull him against you. 

“Anything for my little love,” Your husband responds, voice full of gravel as he runs the underside of his cock against your slit, using it to lubricate his length. 

And then the head of his cock presses into you and your mouth falls open as Astarion buries himself to the hilt. His thumb comes to lightly tease your still-tender clit as he slowly rocks his hips back and forth. He’s watching your face intently as he thumbs circles around that needy, engorged bundle of nerves. 

You use your legs to pull the elf deeper and he grins before lowering his head so that it’s right by your ear. He takes the lobe in his mouth and suckles gently, causing you to whimper.

“You’ll do one more for me, won’t you darling? You always look so gorgeous when you do.” He coaxes, his mouth so close to your ear his breath tickles the sensitive flesh. And then he’s pitching his hips just slightly, aiming to hit your favorite spot with the tip of his cock. He’s gasping and grunting now as his own need for release starts to overpower him.

You’re almost there. You’re keening with each thrust from Astarion and your walls are clenching tighter and tighter around his cock. 

He moans in response at the sensation before pressing his thumb harder against your clit and rubbing it with single-minded intensity, working you toward release. You begin to relentlessly whimper again and Astarion smiles, his eyes locked onto yours as he watches your face contort in the feeling of immense pleasure.

 “There you go, little love. Let go for daddy.” He whispers, bringing his other hand to palm the ample flesh of your ass. 

And gods, you do. 

The second orgasm ripples through you harder than the first, and you have to clasp your hand around your mouth to stifle your moan. Your walls are pulsing around your lover’s cock as you ride the wave of ecstasy.

You go almost slack and before long Astarion is ripping your hand away from your face and pressing his lips against yours in a bruising kiss as he begins to rut wildly into you, shaking the vanity with every thrust. 

“Gods, the things your body does to me,” He growls as he pulls away from your lips, snapping his hips at a punishing pace as he chases his own release. Astarion’s hand is clutching firmly into your bottom, gripping so tightly there’s sure to be bruising tomorrow. His curls fall in front of his face and his ears begin to turn red as he continues to fuck you into oblivion.

Your husband is trying with every fiber of his being to hold on, to stretch out the delicious sensation of his cock plunging in and out of your walls, but every stroke into your tightness is pushing him further and further towards his peak. He snaps his eyes shut, shaking with the effort it’s taking him to restrain himself, to continue enjoying the feeling of your flesh gripping around his.

You are so thoroughly fucked that you cannot do anything but hold onto your lover and keen underneath him as he continues pounding into you.

 “Darling— hells — my love, you’re so tight, I can’t— I’m—“ 

And then with a sudden, sharp inhale of breath, Astarion is burying his thick length inside your walls and trembling as his cock twitches, relentlessly releasing its spend. He gasps into your ear as he slows his hips, but continues to rut, using his still-hard length to press his seed deeper into you. 

His praises come out in an incoherent string as he continues to languidly rock his hips back and forth. You cup his face in your hands as you kiss him, and Astarion smiles into the kiss, finally stilling his hips as his cock softens between you two. 

“Come here, little love.” He whispers, hooking his arms underneath you. You intuitively wrap your legs around your husband’s torso and he easily carries you to the bathroom. When he finally places you down, he brushes a few strands of hair from your face and then places a tender kiss on your forehead.

“Now let’s get you cleaned up.” He says, turning to start the tap before tossing a glance over his shoulder and chuckling lightly, “And then I have to fix your braid, dear… I’m sorry to tell you that I ruined it.” 

“I think you might have also bruised my ass,” You respond, turning to flash your bottom at Astarion. 

He drops down on his knees to examine the curve of your ass, one nimble finger brushing against the blooming blue marks. You let out a little whine in response, the flesh still tender. 

Astarion presses his lips onto the bruise and lingers for a moment. Then he pulls away and frowns slightly, eyes glossing across the marks before he looks up at you and says, “I’m sorry, darling.”

“It’s okay,” You respond, glancing back to grin over your shoulder. You see your husband peering up at you, the picture of devotion, “I enjoyed it.” 

“Did you, now?” He asks with an amused smirk, his eyebrow cocking in that signature arrogant way of his. 

You nod just slightly as he places another kiss against those little bruises. His hands travel up your thighs, brushing against the wetness dripping from your sex and onto your legs. Two fingers tenderly stroke between your drenched slit. 

“Hmm, and what do we have here, little love? Is this something else that needs cleaning? Won’t you let me take a look?”

You blush but oblige anyway, leaning forward over the counter and exposing your sex, leaking with Astarion’s seed and your arousal. 

He grins and licks a long strip between your folds, causing you to buck slightly and whimper at the stimulation on your still-sensitive cunt. 

“Too sensitive? Want me to stop?” He asks gently from behind you, one hand wrapped around your thigh.

“No, keep going.” You urge him, bending forward to further reveal yourself to him, eager to feel his skilled tongue pressed into you once more. 

A small groan of appreciation from your husband is all you hear before he delves his tongue back between your legs, working to clean up the mess he made. 

The bathtub overflows and spills water onto the floor before he’s done adoring you. At least for tonight.

[luctus-flos]

⠀⠀ ♰ ⋅⋆ ─── ꒰ ⠀luctus flos ⠀˖︵ ⠀150+ follower event ⠀ ♱ ₊‧

⠀ ⠀. ༉‧₊˚. ends . . . october 20th ୭ 𓂋 ˚.  submissions to be entered under the tag: ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀'#luctus f105' ໒꒱

Simulated Universe: You enter a room and find a person sitting at their desk, glancing over various copies of what seems to be the same paper. There is the distinct smell of wax melting, and you can see variously shaped stamps, seemingly customized per each person corresponding to the letter. Simulated Universe: The person pauses and lifts their head up when you enter, and offers a warm smile. "Good day," they greet, "I apologize for the rather messy interior. I would have properly cleaned had I expected someone today... though, these letters must be distributed soon. I do hope you understand." Simulated Universe: You choose to ask what the letters are for. The person glances at one of the letters, than back at you. "Ah... it's an event I am hosting," The person picks up an envelope, and offers it out to you. "The event is to celebrate the amount of patrons I have received in my short time of opening this shop. A list of challenges, all holding different rewards... I as well shall extend an invitation to you to join." Simulated Universe: The envelope is packaged with care, and the stamp shows a flower in the middle. The wax itself is green, but the flower's outline has been decorated with an ornate gold. At the kind invitation, your hand reaches out.

chapter⠀I ⠀⠀✧⠀about the event

‧₊˚౨ৎ you have been cordially invited to join the 150 follower event of luctus flos. this event shall span for 5 weeks, and shall contain titled prompts per each week, in which editors of all backgrounds are invited to use these titles as inspirations for their creations. all types of edits are allowed, ranging from layouts to moodboards, and all are welcome to partake in the event, so long as they do not involve any relation to subjects on luctus flos' do not interact list, listed in their rentry for more information. the event, of course, will contain prizes for those at the end of the path, varying from placements, which shall be decided based on points. I kindly wish to see you at the event.

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ♰ ⋅⋆ ─── ꒰ ⠀with warmest regards and love, ⠀ ♱ ₊‧

chapter⠀II ⠀⠀✧⠀rules for the event

‧₊˚౨ৎ I do hope you understand, patron, that all things in life have their rules. this event will be of no exception; the rules, however, are quite simple; so do not fret.

i.┊if you meet the criteria of the 'do not interact' section listed in my rentry, I will be forced to retract my invite to you. thank you, and have a good day if such a rule applies to you. this rule as well applies to the media used in the event; if the media comes from harmful intent, you shall be disqualified without second thought.

ii.┊all edits are allowed in this event; do not feel as if you cannot participate simply because of what you edit; I shall accept all entries equally. as well as that, flags will be accepted as part of the event's allowed entries.

iii.┊every graphic submitted as an entry to this event should be of new creation; remember, patron, you have the week to create something new and beautiful, so do not fret or rush, as late submissions shall be accepted for up to a week after the week's prompt has passed.

iv.┊though the graphics will be measured based on points, do not fret; these points are not handed out purely on personal decision. these points are distributed based on met requirements, which shall be explained below.

chapter⠀III ⠀⠀✧⠀the points system

‧₊˚౨ৎ participants will be ranked by points earned per each edit; with each prompt offering challenges to go along with the prompt, harder challenges offering more points. each entry into the event shall default to +10 points, and more points can be added for each challenge completed. do not fret; submissions without added challenges will be equally as valued as those with. the amount of points per challenge shall vary, and will be listed next to the prompt of the week, and will be entirely optional, though will offer a way to earn more points, which will of course, push you up the leaderboard towards greater prizes, which I shall list below.

⋆.˚  first place shall receive ⠀˖︵ ⠀⠀a personalized layout for any preferred site + a png divider of choice, along with a fully customized logo  ༘ .˚ ⋆.˚  second place shall receive ⠀˖︵ ⠀⠀a personalized layout for any preferred site + a png divider of choice  ༘ .˚ ⋆.˚  third place shall receive ⠀˖︵ ⠀⠀a personalized layout for any preferred site  ༘ .˚

‧₊˚౨ৎ I do hope the prizes are of high enough quality for you, patron... and ah, I should specify- these prizes shall be personalized, and will not be posted for public use unless published only as a display image, and not as free to use graphics, in which I shall ask you for permission first to post the contents. I do hope you understand. and it seems now, with everything out of the way, I may speak of the prompts. they shall be posted weekly.

chapter⠀IV ⠀⠀✧⠀the prompts

‧₊˚౨ৎ each prompt shall correspond to a different week, and each will have an announcement post, which shall announce the beginning of the week, as well as the prompt's ideas. below, however, is a masterlist of all the prompts to come.

⋆𓊇ྀི ❛❛ week 1 . . . " a spring without you . " ❜❜ ₊⊹ entry + 10 points 𓆪ˊˎ˗

ৎ ˚⋅ optional challenges . . .  ˖⋆࿐໋ ˖ ° ʚ create this graphic while also including the color green .ᐟ + 3 points ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 ˖ ° ʚ create this graphic without the usage of typical shapes [ex; stars, circles, etc.] .ᐟ + 5 points ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 ˖ ° ʚ create this graphic with who you believe is a commonly mischaracterized character .ᐟ + 7 points ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

⋆𓊇ྀི ❛❛ week 2 . . . " under blaring stage lights . " ₊⊹ entry + 10 points ❜❜ 𓆪ˊˎ˗

ৎ ˚⋅ optional challenges . . . ˖⋆࿐໋ ˖ ° ʚ create this graphic while also including the color brown .ᐟ + 3 points ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 ˖ ° ʚ create this graphic without using the color red .ᐟ + 5 points ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 ˖ ° ʚ create this graphic with an actor character of some sort .ᐟ + 7 points ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

⋆𓊇ྀི ❛❛ week 3 . . . " a taste of nostalgic soda . " ₊⊹ entry + 10 points ❜❜ 𓆪ˊˎ˗

ৎ ˚⋅ optional challenges . . . ˖⋆࿐໋ ˖ ° ʚ create this graphic while also including the color pink .ᐟ + 3 points ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 ˖ ° ʚ create this graphic without using any type of lace in the edit .ᐟ + 5 points ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 ˖ ° ʚ create this graphic with two characters who are no longer friends .ᐟ + 7 points ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

⋆𓊇ྀི ❛❛ week 4 . . . " the sea of our shared dreams . " ₊⊹ entry + 10 points ❜❜ 𓆪ˊˎ˗

ৎ ˚⋅ optional challenges . . . ˖⋆࿐໋ ˖ ° ʚ create this graphic while also including two colors of choice .ᐟ + 3 points ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 ˖ ° ʚ create this graphic without using any assortment of flowers .ᐟ + 5 points ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 ˖ ° ʚ create this graphic using two characters who could be described as 'soulmates' .ᐟ + 7 points ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

⋆𓊇ྀི ❛❛ week 5 . . . " the clock, eventually, strikes 12 . " ₊⊹ entry + 10 points ❜❜ 𓆪ˊˎ˗

ৎ ˚⋅ optional challenges . . . ˖⋆࿐໋ ˖ ° ʚ create this graphic while also including the color purple .ᐟ + 3 points ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 ˖ ° ʚ create this graphic without using any type of tied bows .ᐟ + 5 points ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 ˖ ° ʚ create this graphic using a character who has large ambitions and dreams .ᐟ + 7 points ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

chapter⠀V ⠀⠀✧⠀promotions

‧₊˚౨ৎ now that the rules have been laid out... I do hope you do not mind some tags to properly share this event around to people interested. if you are included in this tag list and wish to be removed, do feel free to inform me of such. may you have a good day, and to those joining my event, I do wish you the best of luck.

@frilliette @s-sanite @vvincian @sealody @ipcventurine @necroangelz @llocket @egoismn @apersonbutmad @ubelaces @saeriji @alanangel @moskalsbluntrotation @softlovr @fyodorhouse @unknown-till @n-arcette @rookmeo @greatgeneral @drblacula @kyubao @nomkiwi @inyuoka @lovesick-level-up @ethereabun @ic-n @fashlace @valenhrt @scr-be @yukiexpress @creepysp4ghetti @matchascent @versatilityyy @c-lumbina @pinkidol @dollrelicz

[crowsofdarkness]

Fallen: Chapter Five

-gif not mine. credit to owner-

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Fallen Angel! Female Reader.

Content Warnings: language, angst, fluff, kidnapping, violence.

Summary: The new Avengers recruit has many secrets, one of which Bucky is desperate to discover.

Authors Note: This is a little AU with Bucky! It will have six chapters!

Tags: @that-blonde-girl @starfly-nicole @bookofriverr @civilbucky @jainaeatsstars @ordelixx @seventeen-x

We busted through the door that led to the roof, and when the cold night air brushed the skin of my cheeks, I let out a howl of pain. My body fell from Bucky’s grasp to the concrete roof while I writhed in pain. It had become too much, my wings were practically ripping through the skin of my back, begging to be stretched. 

“Oh fuck, it hurts,” I whined. 

I couldn’t help but feel embarrassed in front of Bucky, crying out in so much pain, but it was the worst I had felt in so long. 

“What can I do to help?” Bucky asked, resistant to lay a comforting hand on my back. 

“Just give me a minute,” I said through gritted teeth. 

My large wings dug deep into my spine and I wailed with so much hurt that a quick tear rolled down my cheek. I was crouched in a ball and Bucky ran circles on my lower back, soft coo’s of encouragement in my ear. 

“It’s alright, doll. I’m right here.” 

“I can’t hold them back, I can’t.” I seethed. “The pain is too much.” 

My breath was heavy and ragged, almost out of breath from the immense amount of hurt I felt in my spine. It felt like sharp nails were ripping the skin from my back and it was suffocating causing my vision to blur. I screwed my eyes shut. 

“You need to let them out,” Bucky urged. 

I shook my head. “You’re going to be terrified.” 

He helped me up to my feet, holding my face firm in his hand. 

“I’ve seen a lot in my life, Y/N. Nothing scares me.” 

Tears welled in my eyes. “Can you promise you won’t think anything different of me?” 

“I promise,” Bucky held his vibranium hand over his heart. “I’m not going anywhere.” 

Besides Steve, Bucky was the only one that I felt a deep connection with, despite our past. I wanted to have some kind of relationship with him, whether it was a friendship or something more, so I didn’t want him to look at me any differently than the way he did now. 

There was another factor that I was afraid of Bucky seeing my wings. I did my best to hide in the trees that night but there was no way I could go undetected by the former Winter Soldier. I knew that when I flew away he got a good look at my black wings with the one small patch of white feathers on the bottom left tip.

Whenever your wings get injured in a certain spot, no matter what the color of them are, that previously wounded area when healed would change color. It would never change back. I had those white tips for centuries.  

He gave me a slight nod, urging me to do what I feared. I only had let my wings out a few times since arriving and it was never more than a minute. 

With a shaky breath, I took a few steps away from him and let out a deep, painful scream to echo throughout the woods behind our home. Large wings exploded from my back as I stared up to the starry night sky, mouth open in a euphoric state. The feeling that took over my body when I continued to let my wings be free had almost paralyzed me and I shook my fingers, flames dancing along with the slight breeze. 

Bucky stared at me with amazement in his dark eyes, his chest rising and falling trying to steady his breathing. I didn’t have the super soldier that he did but I could practically hear his heart beating. 

“Shit,” he cursed with an airy breath and a fixed gaze.

We locked eyes and for the first time in so long, I breathed easily. The pain had vanished and the nerves that I let control me were not a weight anymore. 

“How’s the pain?” Bucky asked. 

A smile spread to my lips while I nodded. “There’s no more pain. If you weren’t here, I would have retracted them the second they came out.” 

It was his turn to smile. “And how do you feel?” 

I pondered his question for a moment. There was an ease I felt when around Bucky. Despite the past, I felt like I could show him my true self and that I didn’t have to hide who I was or what I was.

For the first time I felt free. 

“Free,” I mused while letting the fire burn out at my fingers. “Thank you.” 

As I stood in front of Bucky, who continued to stare at me with slight affection and adoration, I shook out my wings which caused a few white feathers to fall. 

 Bucky bent on one knee to pick one up and he fumbled with it between his vibranium fingers. 

“I swear I have a feather that looks exactly like this one,” he said. 

My heart began to pace, knowing exactly what he was talking about before he even did. 

When I hummed in response, Bucky continued. “In Wakanda. I found it in the woods one night and felt compelled to hang on to it.” 

He stared at it, studying it with his blue eyes, and when they darted from the feather to my wings a few times, something suddenly clicked. 

“I’ve seen those wings before.” 

I had two options; lie my ass off to him and make him think that it was all in his head. Or I could tell him the truth, hoping he wouldn’t think any differently of me. 

“Hydra sent me to kill you while you were in Wakanda. They wanted you to pay for deserting them,” I revealed. 

Bucky was back on his feet, staring at me with parted lips. 

“It was the night that Ayo spoke the words, wondering if I was free from the Winter Soldier,” he murmured. 

Tears tugged at my eyes so I squeezed them shut for a few seconds. When they opened, Bucky continued to stare at me with a hurt look. 

“When I realized that the Winter Soldier was gone, I couldn’t do it. You were innocent and didn’t deserve to die for something that you weren’t anymore.” 

He shook his head, almost not believing my confession. 

“Did anyone know?” Bucky questioned. “Steve?” 

The way his bottom lip trembled made my heart drop so I quickly shook my head. 

“No, no one.” 

With the look in his eyes I knew that it hurt him with the slightest thought of his best friend bringing someone who tried to kill him home with him. 

“If I know anything about Hydra, they don’t let anyone out of their grasp for disobeying orders.” 

I gave him a weak nod. “My sister.”

The tops of my wings faltered as the memories of my sister's  death crept back in my mind. 

“She was killed because I chose not to kill you,” I grieved. 

Regret flashed over his face when he realized that because of who he used to be, someone innocent had died.  

Bucky turned away from me, slightly shaking his head. “My life wasn't worth it.” 

“Don’t say that,” I hesitated to reach for him, unsure if he would allow me too. “I made a choice that night.” 

“Your life could have been different. You wouldn’t feel trapped here and you would have a life with your sister.” 

“It wouldn’t have been a long life,” I shrugged. 

Bucky gave me a confused look so with a sigh, I informed him that while I was immortal, my sister was not. Before my life in Hydra, I would scour the streets of whatever town or country I was living in to pass time and one day I found my sister, who was only seven at the time, living in an alley. That night, I vowed to give her the life she deserved, which she did for about 10 years before Hydra found out about me. 

Since they lost the Winter Soldier, they needed a new weapon which they had for years until that night I fled. Literally. 

“They’ll find you,” Bucky warned. 

I nodded. “Ivan set a hefty price for these.” 

I extended my wings before bringing them back to me. 

He stared at them with a light of wonder and when he reached to touch them, I brought the tip of my left wing closer to him. His vibranium fingers brushed along the many feathers but then his lips pulled together in a firm line. 

“What happens if you lose them?” 

My nose scrunched in confusion. “My wings?”

When he nodded, I let out a shaky breath, hoping I would be able to find the right way in telling him what all of my kind feared. 

“Not many have lost their wings to man but the ones that do, become mortal; the ones that survive anyway.” 

Bucky’s fingers left my wings and reached for my hand, forcing my palm to face him. “And you can shoot fire?” 

Not saying a word, I twitched my fingers to bring fire to them. 

We were still in a comfortable silence and with my other hand, I gently touched his cheek which caused Bucky to ease into my touch. 

“I’m sorry for being sent to kill you,” I muttered. 

A soft smile pulled at his lips but before he was able to speak, I let out a painful scream and fell to my knees. With shaky hands, I reached for my left wing where there was a mess of blood and feathers, a small bullet hole becoming the source of blood. 

More gunshots rang from around us and biting my lip through the pain, I encased Bucky and I underneath my wings to protect us. 

“What the hell is going on?” Bucky questioned. 

Another hiss of pain slipped through my lips when I felt two more bullets penetrate my wings. Tears welled in my eyes so he whispered a quick plan in my ear, his warm breath bringing chills to my skin, and in a quick instant, we were sprinting towards the door that led us back into the compound.

[wwheeljack]

WIP folder game

Rules: Make a new post with the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! And then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

Tagged by the wonderful @officialcombaticons for this.

I don't have many fics that are a work in progress, since I am so besot by poor writing motivation, but I have one. Exactly one. That has been sitting and brewing in my docs since I wrote 6k of it in one day in January, and have hardly touched it since. That's my HookAid fic, titled with the most remarkable "HookAid one shot" because fic titles are horrible and impossible, which I insisted on writing with the aspect of when they meet, and trying to make it make sense why Hook would actually like First Aid, rather than just... skipping to them being together. Which means it's, if I'm able to finish it, going to be stupid long and I may have to cut it into chapters lol. A little snippet of it, in case sharing some of it may somehow motivate my unmotivated self:

There was a hint of dullness in his visor though, enough that Hook realized that First Aid likely hadn't refueled since before Megatron had captured him.  “Come with me, I will show you how to use the dispenser.”  First Aid nodded, and quietly followed Hook as the crane returned to his office. He showed First Aid how to use the dispenser, using Hook's ration card. While First Aid was refueling, Hook responded to Megatron, informing him of the Autobot's status until Megatron ended the call.  With a “request” that made Hook’s energon boil. First Aid was still sipping at the cup of energon he'd dispensed when Hook turned to stare him down. Curious, First Aid tilted his helm to the side and watched Hook, his retracted facemask revealing no emotion as he sipped energon through a straw. Hook felt like he was seconds away from an energon fuel line burst. Megatron would be hearing Hook’s many grievances over working with an Autobot. With this seemingly overly kind and friendly Protectobot. Why couldn’t he have found a different solution to the complaints about Hook’s medical bay — invalid as most of them truly were. Hook was an excellent surgeon, even more so considering his lack of training within a prestigious (or any) medical school on Cybertron. The Decepticons should be grateful he hadn’t quit and left Cybertron when the war turned truly sour — than bringing a rival gestalt, and enemy faction member, into his medical bay. Making Hook have to work beside him, as if the Autobot held the same rank as Hook. To let First Aid work on any injured Decepticon who came into the medical bay while Hook watched? Outrageous!

I don't know for whom to tag, or if that includes non fic, but off the top of my head: @menasors, @constructiqueers, @0wldn0, @collisionxcha0s and @eyefocusing ? But no need to do so :)

[kitty-is-writing]

writemas day 13 + Friday Kiss tag!

thanks to @agirlandherquill for this game! there's also a sneaky kiss hidden at the end for @leahnardo-da-veggie and the Friday Kiss tag! if you want to join writemas, you can find today's prompts here!

here's another part of Luke and Theresa's story, set quite a while after the last part. some things have happened between that one and this, which I'll probably fill in eventually and post when they're done. or maybe if more writemas prompts inspire me (~˘▾˘)~

I liked the look of these ones today:

The damage was done. The ruin irreparable. It would leave scars and plenty of them, but at least, along with the pain, there remained a story to tell.

The burn of poison

Theresa watched with grim satisfaction as the unfinished temple was consumed. Vines and branches twisted through the stones, tearing the walls apart at the command of the dragon Odonia. The elite cardinals of the temple had taken one step too far, attempting to spread their control into the northern reaches, and were paying the price.

The air carried the faint, sweet tang of the poison used against the battalion sent to protect the new temple and exterminate the mages hiding in the isolated lakeside village. It burned the back of her throat, a warning that she ought to leave the area, but the destruction in front of her was too compelling a sight.

“Beautiful, isn't it?”

She glanced to her left, seeing Mark standing beside her, cold glare fixed on the crumbling building before them. He had not been the same since Hayley's death at the hands of a temple soldier.

“It's not enough. No matter how many of their temples we pull down, they won't stop. Sooner or later, we'll have to go after the cardinals.”

Mark nodded. “I know. I can still appreciate this victory, though.”

The vines ceased their movement, the stones scattered across the ground. Once proud, towering walls were now little more than rubble. The damage was done. The ruin irreparable. It would leave scars and plenty of them, but at least, along with the pain, there remained a story to tell. A story of love, of hate, of vengeance and justice. A story that had not yet ended. A story she and the others would be the authors of.

Odonia soared overhead, her favour complete, her magic already retracting from the area. A couple of the others sent up bright sparks of magic, a small thanks for her assistance.

“We're going to pay for that someday soon,”Luke breathed from behind her. “They want us to accept their teachings, you know.”

“Would that be so terrible?” Theresa asked, walking with him and leaving Mark to stare into the wreckage. “The dragons are powerful, they can help us overthrow the Sons of the Stars. If we learn what they have to teach, we could have that power for ourselves. We could do so much good for people.”

Luke had his eyes fixed on the smoke filled sky, watching something she could not see. “I don't know, Resa. It seems like getting too much for too little. I don't want to give up any of myself, no matter what is promised. I want that future we planned, that cottage with the cat and the library. I want us to live happily and have the children we picked out names for. Somehow… I don't think we'll get that if we let the dragons interfere.”

“We will have that future, Luke. I love you, and you love me. Temples and dragons can't take that from us. We will have our future because we already have the most important part of it. We have each other.”

He smiled then, scooping her into his arms and twirling in the lingering haze of fumes. “Alright then. I believe you, my love.” He kissed her, mint and cinnamon overpowering the sour taste in the air. “Now, let's get out of this hellscape. That gas William and Odonia conjured was potent stuff.”

tagging my writer mutuals!

@leahnardo-da-veggie @rhiannonhgarrard @satohqbanana @aether-wasteland-s @17panicattacksinatrenchcoat

@eli-t-spoon @bloodmoonloveletter @calliecwrites @mysticstarlightduck @kaylinalexanderbooks

@burntblanc @oh-no-another-idea @charlesjosephwrites @ryns-ramblings @aquixoticwrites

@revenantlore @theeccentricraven

[canarymemories]

put your hand in mine

rating: general audiences archive warning: no archive warnings apply relationship: sena izumi/tsukinaga leo additional tags: fluff, pre-relationship, but in a just about to start that relationship kind of way, love confessions, first kiss, domestic fluff, they are so cringe i love them dearly published: 2023-10-15 words: 2030

summary: and maybe that's why it's in that moment in their living room, months after they started properly living together, it hits izumi that he loves leo. 

here on ao3

the apartment is quiet aside from the steady, although likely unintentional beat of leo flicking his pen between his fingers. the end of it bounces of the papers resting against his legs as he pauses working on whatever new song that's come to mind. izumi doesn't mind it, just as he doesn't really mind the somewhat uncomfortable position he's in, arm circled around leo who insisted on sitting nearly directly on top of him on their couch. he'd at least managed to compromise with leo so he could still sit with his back against izumi's side to try and steal some warmth from him as he knits. 

the apartment isn't cold in any sense — leo would complain about it if it was — but it's not like izumi dislikes this kind of closeness between them, especially when it's just the two of them alone like this. it's easier without any prying eyes, well meaning or not. 

so, with the beat of leo's pen filling the room, izumi continues to knit only to realize that this movements are starting to match the beat of the noise. 

izumi glances over at leo and is met with hair resting messily against his shoulder. 

it hits him slowly then. 

there's nothing particularly special about today. it's just a day towards the end of winter, a day the two of them have off and neither of them felt like going out. that and the final cold spell of winter decided to settle in the night before and leo refused to leave the apartment. 

that had turned into them looking for things to go around the apartment, which made izumi remember that he'd been looking at making a small throw blanket, something simple to keep on the couch. there's already a blanket resting there, but what's better than something handmade?

so with a project in mind, izumi settled into the couch, thumbing through his different yarns to choose colors as leo plopped down next to him, peeking curiously over at the basket. 

"can i help you?" izumi asked, pausing his search to look at leo. 

"mm, no."

izumi, knowing that's the best answer he'd get, nodded and grabbed the yarn he decided on. 

"what're you gonna make?"

"why? did you lose another scarf?"

leo whined and pouted. "it was only once, sena."

izumi laughed. "think it was more than once."

not denying it, leo ignored him and reached out, quicker than izumi could lightly bat his hand away to feel the chosen yarn. as leo retracted his hand, he stared at izumi. 

"what?" sometimes leo's staring could be unnerving and now was one of those times. 

"can i sit with you?"

"you already are."

"but..." leo fidgeted, gaze moving down to his hands in his lap. "i mean, like... closer."

"leo-kun, i'm going to be knitting," izumi pointed out. "there's only so close you can get to me."

leo gave a small nod. izumi sighed. 

"fine, but no moving around. i don't want to mess anything up." the unspoken not wanting leo to somehow get hurt by the needles sat in the air. 

leo brightened, smile pulling at his lips. "i promise i won't move much, sena."

izumi rolled his eyes and got to work readying his materials, aware of the eyes on him the entire time. once finished and ready to begin, he shifted back on the couch. "how do you want to sit?" he asked seeing as leo's waited this long in one spot already. 

leo shuffled closer, a small pad of paper and pen in one hand. he turned with his back facing izumi's side before leaning back against him. 

"i need to move my arm, leo-kun," izumi said given that said limb was trapped between them. not like leo was leaning all too heavily against him, but still. 

"and you'll be able to move it," leo replied, shifting to take hold of izumi's arm and looping it across his chest. 

izumi paused for a moment. knowing there was no way to convince him out of this since he'd already agreed for leo to sit with him, he only quietly sighed. "whatever, but no moving and if this doesn't work, i'll make you move."

leo wiggled, trying to tilt his head back to look at izumi. it didn't work. "fine," he muttered. 

and with that, they got to doing their own things. 

there's something about the comfortable silence between the two of them that feels natural. and maybe that's why it's in that moment in their living room, months after they started properly living together, it hits izumi that he loves leo. 

now, this isn't a new revelation in the slightest. he's known he loves leo for a while, seen it in the way that he wanted to keep leo safe only to end up heartbroken in the end, having destroyed someone he cared about with his own hands. 

(he's also been the butt of far too many marriage jokes and the victim of too many shared stares between ritsu and arashi that he got it a long time ago. it just didn't really settle in until now, or rather, once upon a time ago he might've deserved that kind of thing, but with everything that happened between them, izumi tried to push those thoughts away. but now...) 

so, the distant thought of i love him that rings through izumi's head as he looks over at his roommate is not a new concept in the slightest, but there's something different about this that he can't put into words. 

having had enough of ignoring whatever has been building over the years, izumi says, "i love you."

leo happily hums, the beat from his pen skipping a beat then another before going back to the set rhythm. "i love you too, sena."

izumi presses his lips together. maybe he should've expected this given leo's willingness to say those three words like they're nothing. "no, i..." he doesn't have to explain himself right now could just keep going on with making the blanket that would probably end up being leo's without correcting him, but sena izumi has never been one to give up easily. "i mean i'm in love with you, leo-kun."

as soon as leo starts squirming under his hold, izumi goes back to looking at his yarn. the idle familiar motions of the needles in his hands slow before stopping altogether. 

"what," leo whispers, partially on his knees so he can face izumi. 

"you heard me the first time." he looks pointedly at his lap, the beginnings of his little project taking shape.

"sena," leo says, sounding more serious than izumi has heard from him in a while. "do you mean it?"

izumi sets his materials aside, still refusing to meet leo's eyes even as the other's hands rest on his shoulders. "you know the answer to that."

leo makes an annoyed little noise that's cuter than it should be. "can you say it again? just once. please?" his arms move to loosely lay atop izumi's shoulders, his body leaning into izumi's. 

now izumi knows he can't dodge this forever and he's the one who started this conversation anyway. still, he can buy himself a little bit of time, can't he? so he rests a hand on leo's lower back to stabilize him, the other moving to fiddle with the slightly fraying hem of leo's sweatshirt. finally, he looks up at leo only for him to be closer than izumi has been expecting. 

leo seems to realize this too as he backs off albeit slightly. there's a faint dusting of red high in his cheeks. his eyes don't focus on one place for long and leo's definitely avoiding looking at him. izumi quickly puts together that leo is nervous. does he look the same? he certainly feels like it.

with a slow hand, unsure of what he's doing, izumi reaches up and carefully pushes hair behind leo's ear. his fingers linger there. "i'm in love with you," he repeats with a fleeting bit of confidence, voice quiet despite there being no one else there to overhear. 

the flush on leo's cheeks only deepens as a sheepish smile crosses his face. izumi can feel warmth prickling on the back of his neck. it only takes a few seconds before leo practically launches himself — impressive considering how close they're already sitting — at izumi to hug him tightly. "i love you too, sena," he replies, muffled against izumi's shoulder. 

with a face full of leo's hair and shoulder, izumi quietly laughs, wrapping his arms around leo to properly hold him this time. "i'm glad." it's a bit of an understatement, not that leo has to know that. izumi wonders if leo can hear his heartbeat, a dead giveaway for the giddiness he's feeling. 

leo finally moves after a few minutes, though only enough to unbury his face from where he had it hidden along the side of izumi's neck. "what does that make us now, sena?"

that's a good question, one he hadn't thought about yet. they already act like they're together if the constant comments from their friends mean anything; they already live together and share a bed since leo loves to sneak into izumi's bed in the dead of night once he decides he's written enough. they already know each other better than anyone else, had promised to look over each other before living together. so, would much really change?

izumi tries to look at leo, just for him to lightly push izumi's head back in the other direction, meaning leo's still embarrassed. "i don't know," izumi decides. "we can figure it out later."

leo nuzzles his cheek against izumi's shoulder, his hair tickling izumi's neck at the motion. "okay." he stays mostly quiet after that, fingers idly twirling some of izumi's curls as he hums to himself. his weight and warmth is comforting to izumi, though he could do without the arm of the couch digging into his ribs and back, but he finds that he doesn't want to move. not yet at least. 

"hey, sena?"

"hm?"

"can i kiss you?"

izumi freezes at the question. he doesn't mind the concept of it — he's thought about it enough to not mind it — but to hear leo ask makes it all the more real. "i guess so."

leo nods, making no immediate move to do so much less get off of izumi. and despite how much he likes to hang off of izumi or cling to him if the opportunity arose, once leo finally does move, every action he takes seems so oddly measured, as if he's thinking about every little thing before he does it. 

he sits up and izumi looks at him, adjusting away from the couch arm. leo cups his cheeks, touch light enough that izumi can barely feel it, so he leans into one of the hands. that makes leo smile, which only makes the fluttery feeling izumi's had in his stomach for most of this exchange make itself known again. 

leo shifts closer, adjusting himself next to izumi to be comfortable as he leans in. izumi closes his eyes as leo nears. 

rather than an actual kiss, leo pecks his lips quickly before retreating back to his spot, a little red again and sitting straighter than normal. 

izumi gets a weak glare from leo as he quietly laughs. loosely linking their fingers together, izumi leans in himself and presses a gentle kiss to leo's lips. though it doesn't last long, it's longer than the peck leo had given him. and though there's no fireworks, it simply feels so right to kiss leo that briefly, he wonders why it took so long for him to put the pieces together. 

pulling back, leo looks slightly dazed. he opens his mouth then closes it before a look appears on his face that means he just thought of something to write. peering around leo, izumi sees the pad of paper leo hand and the pen, so he grabs it and hands it to him. leo gladly takes them and scribbles down whatever had come to mind, blissfully unaware of the fond way izumi watches him. 

end notes: title from here i have a lot of thoughts abt their relationship sdkgh like it just makes sense to me that they wouldn't really try to start anything until some point after living in florence w each other, and once they are together, idk what it is, but i don't think they would have like actual labels for what they are. like yeah they're together and dating but their relationship goes further than just that if that makes sense. i could also probably write an essay abt why izumi would be the one to initiate an actual relationship between them but that's not what we're here for adkgh anyway happy one year of izuleo posting to me this has been in wip jail since last december so congrats to this thing finally seeing the light of day too adkgh

[goofiestgoober814]

Which Do You Like More, Sweet or Sour? (a Pokémon fanfic) {Chapter One}

"Big bro? Where are you?"

The young boy Ryuugo called out. He and his brother had been playing in the forest near their home, a little farmhouse overlooking fields of Berries, with a large apple tree in the backyard.

The boy and his brother had moved here rather recently, to the Galarian countryside, with their family, and were set to enroll in a nearby academy in the fall, so until then, until they could make friends, when they weren't helping their parents, they were playing in the woods or out in the yard. This time, however, during a particularly competitive game of tag, Ryuugo and his brother got separated.

"This isn't funny anymore, Anno! Where are you?! He called out again. He was quickly growing anxious and frustrated with his elder brother, it was only about an hour or so until sunset, and he didn't want to be left alone in the dark, with so many dangerous Pokémon lurking. A gust of wind ruffled the boy's short black hair, and he looked into the direction of the unexpected sensation reflexively.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a green speck quickly dart into the underbrush. His brother had been wearing a green wristband he got from a fiend before they moved, so Ryuugo ran after it, thinking it to be his brother. He chased it for a couple minutes before he lost sight of it once again. He was left spinning in a small clearing, looking frantically for any sign of the green speck. Upon learning it was once again lost, he fell to his knees in frustration in front of a small bush.

"Dang it..! i lost him again..! Why was he running so fast?!" He huffed, out of breath and growing angrier and more anxious by the moment. Just then, the bush in front of him began to rustle. Ryuugo inched closer to catch a glimpse of what could be moving under there, when suddenly---

*SMACK*

He was hit in the face and was thrown back onto his rear. He gripped his nose and groaned in pain. He looked up with tears in his eyes to see the thing he was chasing; a little Applin, suspiciously bereft of an apple shell, and covered in mud and scratches, eyeing him with fear and hostility.

This isn't the first time he had seen an Applin, as some tend to naturally hang and skulk around his home's apple tree, but an Applin without an apple was definitely something he'd never seen.

"Whoa... you okay, little guy? I'm sorry if I startled you." He said, extending a hand to the creature. The Applin backed away, barking "Lin-LIn! Lin-Applin!" as if telling the boy to scram or he'll bite, but Ryuugo just cocked his head and smiled, retracting his hand. "It's alright if you don't trust me, I wouldn't either if I was in your shoes." He rummaged through his bag and pulled out a Razz Berry, and softly rolled it to the Pokémon.

"Here you go, these are my favorites, and the other Pokémon where I live love them too!" He grinned as he declared the Berry's deliciousness. Applin eyed the fruit warily, but it's stomach growled and it reluctantly inched forward and took a bite. It's eyes lit up and it began scarfing the Razz Berry with frightful speed. As it ate, it's scratches and wounds faded, and it's fatigue faded away as well.

"Hehehe, I'm glad you like it, little guy!" suddenly he had an idea. "Hey, how would you feel about coming with me? I can give you more Berries there, and I have an apple tree, so I can give you a new shell too!"

He opened his bag for Applin to climb into. It once again backed up warily, but it knows that this human before it has no bad intentions, and being unable to refuse the human's shining, vibrant blue eyes, so reluctantly once more, it inched forward and entered his bag. He carefully righted and re-zipped his bag, leaving a small opening so Applin can breathe. As he put the bag back around his shoulders, the anxiety from before set in again, and he let out a shaky exhale. The sky was growing redder and redder by the second, so he finally resolved to head home, without Anno, it'd be better for one child to return than neither, he thought.

*skip 40 minutes*

After walking for a while, Ryuugo finally caught sight of his house's lights. he turned to his bag. "Hey, Appy, is it alright if i pick up the pace a bit? We're almost there, so is it okay if I run?" he asked his new companion. It barked affirmatively in response. He grinned in response and hit the gas, running as fast as he could while keeping a hand back on his bag to keep it from jostling too much, though from Applin's noises it seems he's definitely failing at it.

"I'm so sorry, little guy! We're almost there, just hang on a little longer okay?" He burst out of the treeline, to the sight of his mother pacing on the porch worried, his father inside talking frantically on their landline, and most surprisingly, Anno attempting to comfort their mother. He was the first person to catch sight of Ryuugo, and he yelled "Hey, there he is! Mom, Dad, Ryuu's back!"

They all run out to greet him, and Anno pulled him into a tight hug, his voice shaky as he spoke. "I'm so sorry i left you back there..! During our game, I came up on a wild Ursaring, and I got so so scared, I... I... I'm so sorry, Ryuu!!" He cried into his little brother's shoulder, their father putting a hand on Anno's back, comforting him.

"I-it's alright, Anno, really, I forgive you, just..." he started, trying to hold his own tears back. "Let's just play tag in the yard from now on, alright?" he said, Anno letting out a little chuckle through his sobs. "Y-yeah, of course, little guy."

Their mother knelt down to her kids, and put a hand on each of their backs. "Lets just get inside, you two need to eat and rest after such a long day." She said softly.

Suddenly, though, Ryuugo's bag began rustling, and Applin burst forth, sitting on Ryuugo"s shoulder and hissing at Anno, who nearly crushed him in the bag with his hug. Everyone else stepped back in shock.

"Whoa! You have an Applin with you? And it doesn't have a shell!" Their father said, incredulously.

Ryuugo perked up, and said "Oh, I rescued this little guy when I was looking for Anno, he was really beat up when I found him."

"Wow, even he ones here are really skittish, and you earned his trust that easily...?" Anno said, thinking about whatever could've led to this. "If you were able to get the trust of such a skittish Pokémon this easily, you should become a Trainer!" Anno said, their parents nodding at each other in agreement. "I'll see about getting you into this Trainer's school, it's a little ways out into the city, but I wouldn't mind driving you if that's necessary." Their father said.

"Grab an apple from the tree in the backyard, and see if he likes it, I'll go and get you a ball for him!" His mother said, turning and walking back into the house. Anno gets back up and walks back in too with their dad, leaving Applin and Ryuugo alone out front. He turned to Applin and, as he walked to the tree, said "Well, how about it then, do you wanna be my partner, little guy?"

Applin barks affirmatively in response once more. Ryuugo smiles and lifts Applin into the branches, and it slithers, moving from apple to apple, searching for one to settle in, then deciding on a lone green apple hanging just above it's head. Once it gets inside, it sparkles and glitters.

"Whoa, you're a shiny?! That's so cool!!"He said, jumping in the air in joy. Applin jumps too, happy to finally have a shell, but it fell and accidentally bonks him on the head, knocking him on his butt again. They both groan in pain, but they laugh it off together on the grass, a sweet start to a wonderful partnership.

~END OF CHAPTER ONE~

[lupu3o]

Fixed Issues + Launch Pad + Crossbow + Level Design

While working on my projects I came upon an issue, Unreal Engine kept freezing everytime I tried to save my project or the project auto saved, I went through the output log and saw nothing that could be causing this issue and so decided to backtrack on my steps, by doing so I realised that it works fine in older version. This led to me narrowing down my search to things I have added and It allowed me to come to a conclusion. I made the tilemap four times the size of its original size to create one entire level instead of swapping between multiple levels, by doing so the tilemap kept crashing my game and so I separated it into two different levels.

Due to how my game kept crashing I lost a number of things such as my launch pad and so I had to redo it, luckily for me I remembered how to make it and so I was able to make one with ease but this time adding a paper sprite to it so it suits my game.

Due to how the launchpad kept pushing me lower and lower each time I jumped twice on it I decided to add a delay to it so my character doesn't constantly jump on it, by adding a delay it helps my character be able to jump on it once again and getting the full power of it.

With the crossbow I had to make two actor blueprints, one for the actual crossbow and one for the projectile, starting off with the Projectile event graph, I had to add projectile movement to it and turn the gravity to 0 so that it can actually move from side to side in the direction that I tell it to. I also changed its speed in the projectile movement to tell the actor how fast to move.

Once that was done with I went into its event graph.

In the event graph I made it so that the arrow can actually cause damage when coming into contact with the player character and then having it destroy itself once the character is over with. From other actor I had to drag in an equal node and set it to "get owner" so that I can have it come out the turret once the code nodes for that are done. If the projectile detects a turret it fires into the direction the turret is facing.

I also turned the actor to be editable in order to be able to change its fire interval from faster to slower depending on how I wished it to be.

With the Crossbow actor it was quite simple.

All I had to do was give it a fire projectile command as you can see above and a command to spawn the arrow wherever the turret is placed, by casting it spawn actor projectile to scene the projectile can figure out that the turret is it's "owner" and allows for the entire thing to function when put together.

I ended up running into a number of issues with the projectile not spawning because it kept colliding with the tilemap and so I had to go into the tilemap, give it a tag called Ignore, go into projectile to give it the same tag called Ignore and that seemed to fix the issue and so the projectile started firing.

Once this was over a new problem came into play, the projectile would go on until it hit something and so it ended up loading my levels because it would collide with them. Due to this issue I went and created a wall that the arrow can collide with but the player can still pass through which allowed for the issue to be fixed and once the arrow collides with it the actor destroys itself. As of right now I have 3 levels and I am aiming for 4 levels total with the forth being the end of the game, each level has a different aspect to it and includes a different mechanic in each as to keep it a little diverse.

The big white blocks in the levels are to keep the player from going a certain direction, I figured the game would look better if the player could see stuff to their left even though it is not accessible. The first level is simple with there only being normal spikes.

The second level is slightly bigger and a bit more complex, in this level I implemented some retractable spikes at the ending right before the player gets to level 3. This level also introduces the launch pad to the player with them needing to use it to go upwards, from there they have a couple of options, go left/right/up to collect more points or go right and down to the ending where once they get past the spikes level 3 loads up.

The image of Level 3 is slightly tinnier due to when I get close to it, it becomes insanely bright since I used black colours in it. This level is where I actually introduced the turret mechanics, added a launch pad that launches the player to the right onto a platform which leads to another launch pad going upwards towards some retractable spikes, this level makes the player need to go right and then backtrack to the left to reach the final level which is in progress as of right now.

[fishhateme]

i completely agree with dannielricciardo's addition!! i think that, while he was obviously very strong during most of his career, daniel doesn't have the same resilience towards public criticism that maybe max/oscar/others did (i say this with love). he was always very aware of what people were saying about him (not, like, lando levels though), and was visibly interested in 'the narrative', so to speak (he positioned himself as one of, if not the first, stars of dts, he was always insisting that his relationship with max was nonsexual, presumably because he was very aware of what the fandom was saying, and, as a whole, he's always been a bit of a showman. personally i love that about him, but he undeniably wanted to present a certain image of himself) So, to come into 2023 with your confidence having taken such hits during the mclaren era only to be immediately hit with an injury, a very long recovery, and immediate intense scrutiny during 2024 (and imo ageism with the whole liam thing), one can only imagine how hard it was for him to face the press and the public who were expressing nothing but disappointment and a sense that his career should have essentially been over ages ago. what op says about the revisionism after the liam flop is real - let's not forget what the atmosphere was surrounding daniel, every other comment was along the lines of him having to pack it up and for rbr/vcarb to stop 'wasting space' on him when there were rookies waiting in the wings

(as a side note i feel like a lot of us feel very angry -and rightfully so- because several (talented and capable!) drivers - capable just like daniel - are being given soooo much more grace for their difficulties adapting to new teams or getting good results, especially when daniel was a glorified punching bag after a certain point of the 2024 season)

It makes sense that this took away something that he'd always carried with him - call it his instinct, his passion, his fearlessness, his lack of doubt, maybe some of his trust, whatevs -, even as a child in the lower formulas, and (i risk getting very parasocial here but i feel like i sort of crossed that line with my first post) of course that would be mentally distressing, to lose that certainty you always had. i understand the initial impulse of retracting and hiding away to lick your wounds, but as i've said before, i think amidst all this pain he made the decision to sever himself completely from motorsports, which (regardless of whether it was the right decision or not) represented a vast majority of his entire life, personality, professional and i'd even say social environments (i know i sound farfetched here but it must be WILD to go from being surrounded by hundreds of people which work as a team for and with you to being reduced to yourself and maybe a personal assistant you talk to a few times a week, and we shouldn't forget that, because daniel chose an isolating path to try to heal)

he's gone from a wild, frenetic (and surely stressful and unsustainable, don't get me wrong) lifestyle to one that seems... quiet. I brought up this particular word in my original tags because I felt it was important - daniel isn't a quiet person. but lately, everything around him seems very quiet - a big empty mansion in la, a quiet, empty schedule with nothing to do most days, a quieted down personality that used to love the spotlight and now suddenly doesn't

i particularly liked the way dannielricciardo put it, which i thought was very very masterful: "he can't do anything right, according to you, so he will do nothing, so there's nothing to criticize him for or to ask of him. you can't ask a dead person for anything."

this newfound quietness of him, it feels like we're all grieving him even though he's still alive. And although I'm all for personal reinvention after a particularly painful or traumatic event, clearly this reinvention of him into this supposedly chill, therapy-speaking guy who doesn't care if he gets fucked over or if he needs a haircut or not is continuously threatened by the slivers of the old daniel shining through when he thinks nobody is watching - the constant deleting of moments from the past, late at night and sporadic, which feels almost tainted with some form of rage or bitterness that doesn't fit with the idea daniel is trying to sell of a happy, fulfilling life

i don't know. maybe i'm getting too narrative-obsessed or parasocial or whatever, but i can't imagine this being the new normal for so much longer, it's like he's punishing himself for the fiasco of last year by denying himself parts of his life which undeniably brought him happiness. even if he were to manage keeping this up, i'd hope he didn't, because keeping yourself quiet in a little box for fear of coming out and being judged seems like a sad fate for such a (usually) happy driver

"but I don't THINK this is the life that he wants" I am reading your tags and nodding so fucking hard like he's our but a man who is doing mentally well would not be privating 200 Instagram posts while getting wine drunk on a Sunday afternoon. Literally that "could a mentally ill person do that" core etc. he is forcing himself to want the life he has

op you read my mind!! I'm going to take the opportunity to go on a long (looooong) rant, because I've been dying to talk about this

For context this was on the tags of that latest post of danny saying he's done (again) that's been going around, I said that I wish him nothing but peace and quiet but I don't THINK he wants peace and quiet, and here's the thing - I really don't. I've been trying to keep quiet about it because a part of me felt like it was disrespectful to comment on a real person's mental health, but also like, yk, he's absolutely never going to see this, so I might as well get it off my chest

These past few months of daniel hanging out in LA and doing kind of... nothing? don't seem very genuine to me. And obviously you might say none of us know what's truly genuine, but Daniel has been in the public eye for over a decade and a half, and throughout that time he's been very consistent with his personality and aspirations. Sure, the wdc dream is discarded, but he always spoke about racing with love, and he's made several remarks about liking to do things, needing to do things and keep himself busy

So for him to call it quits altogether immediately seemed odd to me? Especially when he chose to do kind of... nothing at all?

In the tags I raised another issue that I think is important - Daniel's spent 30 or so out of his 35 years doing some form of racing. To stop doing that cold turkey would imply some form of hatred towards the sport, and despite all the (rightful) anger that's been going around about rbr/horner/helmut 'stealing' or 'taking' his love of it, so to speak, I don't think that's entirely correct.

It's surely there, somewhere - practically everyone who leaves F1 still involved themselves on some other form of motorsports, even Seb goes to the track sometimes or does some event (of course, you might say seb ended things on his terms, but while I think that's important to note I also think the larger trend as a whole points to drivers loving racing even when they leave a certain category, which tracks with the whole, y'know, risking their lives for the love of it aspect)

now let's circle back to the whole instagram delete spree thing, because i have some thoughts on that, too: I'm not the first person to say this and I won't be the last, but there is not a single time in a person's life where they're more self obsessed than when they're depressed. I say this both from personal experience and just talking to people - when you're not well mentally, you start getting paranoid about how people perceive you and, above all, try to manicure your image because you feel perceived in a way that makes you uncomfortable (the discomfort can come from being perceived as weak or whiny or whatever, and it doesn't happen to everyone, but id say it stems from the feeling of failure that a prolonged emotional distress can sometimes cause).

Now, important disclaimer, I'm NOT saying daniel is depressed, because I don't know daniel and I don't have the info to get to those conclusions, it's simply outside of what I could realistically infer from his behavior! What I AM saying is that just from an onlooker's perspective, he doesn't seem very fulfilled, and the fact that he repeatedly goes back to old posts from years ago to trim and trim and trim some more seems obsessive. Once or twice at first, sure, but he started deleting posts half a year ago and he's sporadically been doing so ever since. This might just be me, but even if you're not happy about the way your past turned out, a happy person doesn't feel the need to change it for the world, y'know?

a few months in perth just catching up with his family after so many years living out of a suitcase seemed both logical and healthy to me, but like, months and months of staying in la where you seemingly don't hang out with anyone except your asshole comedian friends (who coincidentally are the exact type of macho dude to say shit like men don't get depressed or something equally as ignorant and harmful as that, bffr) doesn't seem fulfilling, stimulating or just plain fun, even after taking into account danny's -sometimes odd- preferences about how to spend his fuckload of money

To me, daniel has been coming across lately as kind of a lost man, for lack of a better word.

He was clearly more deeply hurt by Singapore than he'd rather admit, but in the middle of that he started turning down any and all offers - even ones that would've made him happy!

F1 hurt him, yes, but F1 is only a sliver of the motorsports world, even if it's the most publicized. In his rejection of anything motorsports related, he's isolated himself from his homebase, and he kind of left himself jobless (as a mere peasant I'll admit that I'd love to have the kind of money to travel around the world for months without worrying about money in the slightest, but I imagine it eventually gets old, especially when there's nothing very mentally stimulating for you to do - let's be so fr, Daniel isn't going to be picking up a book about medieval history or something like that to pass the time). op said something that I loved and that really seems to encapsulate what I've been trying to say - "he is forcing himself to want the life he has". it really seems that way, it's that simple - i think he cut off too much too early and in the midst of his pain and betrayal, and now he's either too scared of getting hurt/ridiculed or simply too proud (though that wouldn't be very much like him tbh) to go back, even if it's on a different category, so he's stuck living this retired lifestyle when, newsflash, the retired lifestyle barely fulfils regular 70yo retirees, much less people who are still so, so young (and yes, 35 is young in the grand scheme of things, look at h*lmut marko ffs)

And like, I KNOW I've given it way too much thought and this is starting to enter rpf territory but like... I don't know. I can't help but wonder. He tries so hard to look happy but I feel like his smile doesn't reach his eyes anymore. (Just for the record I was originally going to respond to this ask saying something light hearted and not nearly as unhinged, along the lines of 'daniel is on his publicly fine but privately crying in the shower after downing a bottle wine by himself era', which was a joke, obviously, but then I reread it and it didn't feel like a joke at all? So anyways, here's this parasocial feverish ramble instead, hope it was semi coherent if only for the sake of the lovely @dannielricciardo)

[arachine]

૮(ˊ ᵔ ˋ)ა ... i'd follow you anywhere .ᐟ

ᥫ᭡ pairing :: neteyam sully x avatar! reader

ᥫ᭡ genre :: mature

ᥫ᭡ synopsis :: in which reader uses her new avatar body to finally show neteyam just how much she loves him… + based off of this thirst!

ᥫ᭡ general tags :: 18+ (explicit sexual content, explicit language), minimal angst (?), lots of fluff and banter lol

ᥫ᭡ content warnings :: characters aged up to 20, oral (m receiving), cum swallowing, dacryphilia (v tame), corruption

ᥫ᭡ word count :: 2.5k

ᥫ᭡ note :: guys this is what happens when i ask for thirsts!!! i get carried away and never know when to stop ;(( anyway, here, have this while i work on my annual dick analysis for jake & quaritch.

“Where are you taking me?”

“Shh, you’ll see, kitty boy,” you giggled, tightening your grip on his wrist.

Neteyam shakes his head, tongue in cheek. He could never say no to you—not that he wanted to…he always wanted to play with you. He’d follow you into the depths of hell, or whatever the na’vi equivalent of hell was. Yeah, he’d follow you there, he thinks—definitely.  

The boy relinquishes all of his motor skills to you, allowing you to drag his body further into the forest. He mirrors all of your agile movements, jumping when you jump, running when you run—and then you come to a halt, turning around quickly to face him. You’re so close—too close, the sudden proximity disrupting his equilibrium.

“Don’t go falling for me now,” you grab his forearm before he can fall, pulling him back up with a wink. He scoffs at this, mumbling something sly under his breath. You were always so quick-witted, with quick reflexes to match, too. To anyone else, this would be annoying, but to him, they were your most admirable traits. It’s what made him fall for you.

“Ha, ha, can you tell me what we are doing all the way out here now?” he raises his hands, gesturing to the clearing that you were now standing in. You smile wildly, pursing your lips together in avoidance. The boy reaches behind you to pull your tail, tickling your sides until you surrender.

“Okay, okay, just s-stop it already,” you belt out, “I wanna show you somethin’…gotta be nice to get it, though.” He retracts his hands, letting them fall slowly to his sides. Just what were you planning?

Grabbing his hand this time, you usher him to follow you with a tilt of your head. You lead him to a tree surrounded by shrubbery, a spot that, up until now, only you were privy to its whereabouts. The perfect place for privacy.

Letting go of his hand, you push him down to sit on the forest floor, with his back resting against the bark of the tree and you nestled between his legs. His pulse quickens. What was so important that you needed to drag him so deep into the forest? In such a secluded place, nonetheless. 

“I’ve been wanting to try this with you for a while,” you start, voice so low, just barely above a whisper. His eyes squint in confusion, but he remains silent—listening, as to not scare you from continuing. 

“You know, growing up in a shack with grown men…you hear a lot of things,” a silence, “things only men talk about.” Your eyes flitter to his, unmoving. 

“like, the things they missed doing on Earth, the girls they miss fucking—and what they’d do to have a woman’s lips wrapped their cocks…” The last bit comes out more hushed, gently kissing the shell of his ears. His tail reacts to you before he can, swishing in jagged movements, exposing his excitement. 

“Has anyone ever kissed you down there?” your eyes flit to his groin. 

He shakes his head eagerly, “No, I have n-never heard of this…nobody has ever…”

“Can I?” you tilt your head, flashing him your best doe-eyes. It was fun teasing him, a feeling that you’d never grow tired of. From first glance, to first introduction, you’d been bound at the hip since you could talk. Everything he did, you did, and vice versa. If you were feeling sick one day and couldn’t play, then shit, he was too. If you wanted to jump off a cliff one day, he’s jumping with you!

His loyalty to you was unyielding, grounding. And as the years passed, and the two of you transitioned from bright-eyed little kids to gangly, awkward teens on the cusp of adulthood, you started to realize something. That you wanted to be all of his firsts. 

Determinedly, you set out to do just that. On his thirteenth birthday, you kissed his cheek. A scintilla of your love, stained onto the expanse of his face that served as a mental reminder that this boy was yours—promised to you, and only you. 

Then, three more years passed. The boy with the rounded cheeks and toothy smile, had begun to change. It started out slow, though, then the differences became more gradual. 

The first to change was his face. What was once round and doughy, had now become slim and sharp. And then it was his physique. No longer was he the awkward child with gangly limbs, and a head too big for his body (as you liked to put it). No, he was much more…different. And each and every one of these changes, a testament to his inevitable journey into adulthood. 

On his sixteenth birthday, you kissed him. Once. But in that one kiss, you poured every ounce of love that you’d collected over the years. Every thought, every wish, every yearn, went right into that kiss—another piece of your heart that you carved just for him.  For him to have and hold, to keep safe. 

And when it was over, you pulled away with a smile, and a dagger of a tongue dipped in poison, ready to deliver heartbreak. 

You’re a man now, you uttered. I wanted to give my best friend his first kiss. And that was it, that was all it was ever going to be—because you were human, then. Still a weak, measly, little human who spent all her time living in a false reality, chasing something (someone) that could never really truly be promised to you. Not until you made the change.  

So, you waited. And…waited, and waited, and waited until one day you could meet his eye without having to look up, or for him to drop down. You waited until the day when you’d be recognized as his equal. 

Today was that day, on his twentieth birthday. And so you ask again. 

“Can I kiss you down here?” 

He nods. Once, twice, then stutters out an eager yes. Gently you smooth your palm up and over his knee, the skin of his thighs, and then stop beneath the fabric of his loin cloth. Your fingers trace the area teasingly, and you giggle when his hip juts up from the sensation. So sensitive. 

Slowly, you remove the cloth from his body, and take him into your hand. He’s semi-hard and leaking pre—and warm. So, so warm. You bring it up to your cheek, rubbing it against the area before turning your head to leave a zephyr-light kiss on his shaft. You kiss it once, then twice, then kiss it again for every year you spent not kissing him. 

“What are you doing?” he laughs, “Come on, it tick—hahhh.” A whine vacates from his throat upon you licking a long stripe from the base of his shaft, to the tip of his head. Naturally, his hands find solace atop of your head. 

“So dramatic, I didn’t even do anything yet.” This time, you take him into your mouth, forcing him to watch you as more and more of his length disappears into the cavern of your mouth. 

Technically, you’d never done this before (save for the few times you practiced on fruit) so it was your first time, just as much as it was his. But he didn’t have to know that. You wanted to appear like you knew what you were doing, or at the very least, like you’d done this before. You try to remember all the things you’ve heard over the years.

1) Girls who used teeth were bad, but girls who flattened their tongues and relaxed their throats were good. 

2) Girls who didn’t use spit sucked, but girls who got really messy were good fucks. 

3) Girls who didn’t play with balls were lazy, but girls who did knew how to have fun.

So, you use an amalgamation of all of the tips that you garnered. You flatten your tongue, ease your throat so that you can take him farther, until the head of his cock hits your uvula. 

“Shhit, mmf,” he breathes, attempting to stifle a moan by digging a hand into the forest soil. Immediately, you grab his hand and place it back onto your head, pulling off of him with a wet pop.

“Keep ‘em here,” your hand fists his length, “want you to use me. Wanna make you feel good, ‘kay?” His dick twitches in your hold, because fuck, the sight before him is almost too much for him to handle. 

You, before him on your knees, with your dainty hand wrapped around him, and your face wet with drool. And you want him to what? Use you? To make him feel…good? God, if he didn’t know any better, he’d think this was Eywa playing tricks on his mind. Giving him a taste of euphoria before yanking him back to reality. 

He has half a mind to pinch himself, and half mind to poke you, because there’s just no way this is real. Bullshit. But then you’re sinking back down onto him, and swirling your tongue around his head, and using your hands to massage his balls, and—

“Fuck,” his hands reflexively push you down onto his length. His body shivers when the tip of your nose makes contact with his pelvis. You’re so warm, and wet, so inviting, he can’t seem to let go. He keeps you there until you physically can’t fathom it, and pull off of him in search of air. 

“That felt…nice,” he says bashfully, “can you do that again?” You nod eagerly, accumulating a generous amount of spit in your mouth to use as a salve, lathering it up and down the length of him before he guides you back to his awaiting cock. 

He watches intently as your lips stretch to accommodate him again. Now his hands, which are tangled in your tresses, are moving more confidently. They push and pull you, maneuvering your head gently and at a steady pace, then gradually, they increase their speed. 

Neteyam does this a few times and then allows you to take the reins. When you’re ready, you take a deep inhale through your nose, and push yourself down until you feel the weight of him hit the back of your throat. The first time was a bit easier, mostly because your jaw wasn’t as fatigued as it was now, but you persevere anyway. 

Inhale, exhale. A mantra that you have to repeat to yourself to distract you from the urge to gag. You try your best to keep your jaw relaxed and your throat open by digging your nails into the fat of his thighs. 

When you look up at him, there’s an elated expression molded onto his face. His head is thrown back against the tree, hair strewn about with tendrils sticking to his forehead, and his eyes are shut closed. 

He looks…so beautiful. That’s when you feel a tear ribbon down your face and onto his thigh. You’re unsure if it’s because of the air steadily leaving your brain, or if it’s because of how pretty he looks right now—all sweaty, slick with your drool.

You settle on the former. It had to be the air. Eventually, your lungs give out and you have to take a breather. The sudden loss of warmth forces his eyes open, and then they fall on your face. Your eyes. Doe-eyed and clouded. Cheeks stained with tears. 

“Pretty.” Is all he says, bringing up a hand to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. You work him the rest of the way with the iota of energy you have left, concentrating on the head of his cock while your hand fists him to climax. 

His abs begin to tremble and flex when you switch between hollowing your cheeks and massaging his balls. A visual indication that he was close to coming. 

“Waitwaitwait, it feels like,” he’s panicked, trying to push you away. You dodge his attempts to remove you and continue your assault, only this time, you gently apply pressure to his perineum. Unceremoniously, he pushes your head down to the hilt and you moan around him from the force. 

The vibrations from your throat makes his head feel all fuzzy. He’s so close, on the precipice of euphoria. And your hands—that are still situated on his thighs—rub the expanse of them reassuringly, coaxing him to finish right on your tongue. 

With a final lazy piston, he comes into your mouth, and the warm, salty seed that you’d been anticipating leaks down the column on your throat. Moans tumble from his lips, along with hushed expletives, and he’s shaking. The cords of muscle beneath your palm tense and flex before regressing to their natural, relaxed state. 

You remove your mouth promptly and rise to your haunches, making sure that his eyes are locked onto yours as you stick out your tongue to show him his seed. 

“No, do not swallow that, I didn’t mea—“ Disobeying his wishes, you do it anyway. Swallowing it all all down and making it a point that you did so by sticking your tongue out again. His tail flicks in response, eyes wide in disbelief. 

“Why did you do that? It’s dirty,” he caresses your cheek, wiping away the leftover spent from your mouth. 

“‘Cause I wanted to…” You counter. “And it’s not dirty, you tasted good.” 

Neteyam rolls his eyes at this, like him tasting good is too hard for him to believe. 

“Don’t believe me? Here, try it.” And then you give him the gift that you had gifted to him all those years ago. A kiss. It’s equal parts sweet and needy, different from the first time it happened, but that’s because it was supposed to be. You wanted him to know exactly what you meant. No more waiting. No more pining. 

When you draw back, breathless and dizzy, he’s still stuck in a stupor. Lips jutted out and waiting for you to kiss him again. Again, again, again. He opens his eyes, and sees you staring back at him. 

“See, I told yo—“ He takes a fist full of your hair and connects his lips to yours. This is him returning the gift. Letting you know that he got the message, loud and clear, and that it was reciprocated. Every ounce of love that flows through his heart is poured into your own; he hopes you can feel it. 

“I told you not to fall for me,” you whisper, looking up at him with an avian flutter of your lashes. Neteyam’s hands find solace on the sides of your cheeks, and then he speaks.

“I think I fell for you a long time ago.” Warmth washes over you, his sweet words and strong hands overriding all of your cognitive functions. Specifically, the one in charge of keeping you calm and collected. 

“Good, ‘cause I think you’re gonna fall for me a lot harder when you see what I have planned for you later.”

“What’s later?”

“Shh, what fun would it be if I told the birthday boy the surprise?” You grin cheekily, unaware of the way your tail swishes from side to side as you say it. Neteyam knows you’re up to no good, but he doesn’t care. He’d follow you anywhere, after all. 

© arachine 2023

[httyddragonfox]

So Chapter 106 came out, and we have some new stuff...

For starters, Nene guesses that because her and Hanako are a sorta thing, that's why Tsukasa did what he did, but then retracts that. Yeah, the kiss was probably just to mess with them.

So the assistant thing, apparently it was along the lines of "keep you in the boundary until destroy the Yorishiro path."

Another note, when people pass out, his first thought is that they're dead. That is a very childish thought, which shows his mental state might be a bit younger than 13. He also tried to offer a mouse to Nene as food which further proves my point. It's the equivalent of a young boy offering worms to someone as a snack.

When Nene finally wakes up, he's like an inch from her face. She thinks he might try to kiss her again, but no, seeing as he's so childish, it's probably due to his no sense of personal space.

She tells him that she doesn't want to destroy the Yorishiro, which confuses him as it doesn't match her past actions. Kids have a hard time dealing with change. Of course this is where it gets confusing.

With Mitsuba, Mitsuba didn't want to fight the group, but he essentially forced him to. With Nene, he's like "you don't have to do it if you don't want." Both would be a disappointing situation, but with Mitsuba he forced his hand on him. Maybe it's because he knows he needs to be nicer to girls.

If Nene doesn't want to do it, she doesn't have to, of course he needs her to. He reaches a compromise, they'll make a game out if: If she manages to get away from him and out of the boundary, she wins and she doesn't have to do it. Yet if he wins and catches her, he'll take the arm he needs to complete the job. Either way she doesn't have to do it, and they also get to have a little fun; it's like tag, but for keeps. Of course, he's not exactly listening when she says she rather not, but at least he gives her a head start.

She manages to get away from him a couple times, and he's having a blast, even when he's hit in the face that one time, he's smiling again afterwards. Of course then she yells at him to leave her alone and not come near her, and he's confused because he thought they were having fun.

For some reason, Tsukasa stops and just stares at the ceiling. This is probably because she yelled at him to stop, or he was bored of the game or a mixture of the two (She already got away from him a couple times at this point). He's probably thinking something along the lines 'If she gets away, she gets away; have to try something else.' I'm confused, because I thought he needed her to destroy the Yorishiro. Maybe he thinks Nene can't get out on her own, or maybe he's just resting...I don't think he needs to though. She already got away from him twice in their game, so I guess maybe Tsukasa is just leaving her be seeing if she can get out on her own.

When Nene gets attacked by the guardians and calls for help, Tsukasa comes and rescues her of course. He has this habit of helping people when they wish for it, even if it's not exactly what they want. He destroys the guardians, that was fun, now to get back to business. Since Nene called for help, guess she's not trying to leave anymore, now they can get back on task. Of course now Nene is a toddler, her emotional state seems to that young as well. She's definetely not going to run away now.

He probably doesn't tear an arm off of her because the point of the game was she would still leave after he took it, and she's not going to leave easily in this state. Another thing is the game is probably over, he got bored, she called it off, or her calling for help was her changing her mind about leaving. Luckily though, for whatever reason we don't see him tear an arm off a toddler.

Now it's time for Babysitter Tsukasa! After seeing how he treats his newborn creation Mitsuba, you can tell that he can be caring...in his own twisted way. So of course, I'm excited but also concerned.

Tsukasa (Toilet Bound Hanako-Kun)

There really is no rhyme or reason to whatever that kid does, but I've decided to do something perilous and crack into his mind a bit. Wish me luck, and if I don't return...remember me.

Anyways, he's always been a messed up little dude, ever since he discovered the truth about him and Amane's destiny. So who knows, maybe he's always been a bit messed up, considering he told the deity of the red house that he wasn't going to "Hold back" anymore. I'm a twin myself, so I know that spats between us can get a little violent. We don't ever see the extent of Tsukasa's insanity as a human, but I feel it was a bit more than whatever me and my sister ever got up to. This guy is obsessed with his brother; yes I feel like my life can't be fun without my sister but I'm not that obsessed with her. Just read his character stat page and you'll know what I mean.

It all started as a normal twin relationship, his brother was sickly and Tsukasa just wanted him to feel better; he realized Amane's true wish was to be healthy. So he sacrificed himself for his brother to get better. Tsukasa didn't seem to understand his family's feelings, or the fact that they would miss him. He then learned that Amane would throw his well meaning sacrifice away one day and die young, and despite saying he loved him he would murder him. This doesn't make Tsukasa distraught, it just makes him curious. Despite Amane wanting to live so badly, there is something that would make him want to die. Despite Amane loving him, there is something that would make him want to kill him. Tsukasa just wants to know what these things are; he wants these events to come to pass, to satiate his own curiosity.

Upon his return, his mother can tell there's something demented about him. She wants him exorcised. From what I can tell, Tsukasa still spends time with his brother Amane, but he also can get a bit violent with him at times. Amane refuses to tell anyone who's hurting him. In one flashback, it also seems that Tsukasa can be emotionally manipulative as well, asking Amane if he would be okay if he just disappeared.

As a Twin, I hate to admit it, when I was younger I was emotionally manipulative. I threatened to run away or kill myself when arguments got too heated. I am aware, that was not good of me. In all fairness, she did that as well, and she is aware that was not good of her. We never beat each other up, but I wouldn't be surprised if Tsukasa got that way sometimes. Little Amane admitted that if you interrupt Tsukasa from doing something he's invested in or enjoys he gets a tad violent. That is reflected in his supernatural self, only really getting upset at people if they interrupt him or try to stop him from what he's doing at the moment.

So all in all, Tsukasa is a psycho. I can't end it there though.

He does anything to satisfy his morbid curiosity, like seeing a pufferfish's insides, building an artificial ghost to see if he could, or from the after school manga, seeing if fireworks still work inside someone's gut, or seeing if he can swim to LA. Whatever curiosity, whatever disturbing thought comes to mind, he wants to act on it. A ball of chaos, as he admits in his introduction to Kou. He doesn't believe in restraints or social order, he believes every supernatural should be free to act as they please, anyone should act to true heart's desire, even if it's acts of violence, especially if it's acts of violence. Violence is the one true thing that's a societal no-no, and since Tsukasa doesn't believe in a social order, he wants violence to run rampant. He admits loves the faces of those who don't hold back anymore, faces of people like himself.

Tsukasa is an honest person, he never once lies in the series. It's a belief of mine that he believes the social order is holding everyone back, forcing them to lie to themselves in order to uphold it. Of course some people don't want to hurt anyone, but like he cares about that. When Mitsuba in the Hell of Mirrors chose to run away instead of fighting the main group, he ends up punching him telling "you can do it" in a threatening tone. He truly believes Mitsuba can defeat them easily, and wants to see that in action, but Mitsuba doesn't want to. Also, even though he doesn't lie, he does know how to spin his words in order to make it seem like someone doesn't have a choice. He tells Mitsuba if he doesn't become the new school wonder, he's going to fade away, and "he doesn't want that, does he?" He wanted Mitsuba to gain a whole lot of power for himself to go against the group, and told if he didn't he was going to fade. It wasn't untrue, but Tsukasa made him make the wish to become the new school wonder. So Tsukasa knows how to manipulate things so that both and them get what they want, maybe in an indirect way.

When he twisted Souske's rumor, it was to grant his wish to have friends. It was rather messed up of him, because at that point Souske was happy Kou was his friend. Tsukasa didn't care about that, because Souske's true wish was to have friends, it didn't matter if Souske was okay with one. According to Tsukasa, "Your wish was to have many friends, and you're okay with just one? That doesn't make sense." Not to mention when Souske went off on his own and was receiving help from Kou, Tsukasa punched him through the stomach. It seems he wants people to go through with their original wants, and not change up their plans where it is most convenient. After turning Souske into a monster, he claims that if Souske were to make Kou like him they could be friends forever. I truly think he meant this, he just had no concern for what would happen to Kou or the fact that Souske didn't really want to hurt him, he just wanted Souske to be the worst he could be with no restraint and then have him go after what he wanted. He wishes more people would act as he does. He truly lives by his own beliefs, and wants others to follow that doctrine.

After Hanako ended Souske, he wasn't too torn up about it. As I said, he's only really upset if people interrupt him. He was more happy to see his brother again. Also, it's violence against violence, why wouldn't he be for that? He likes it when people don't hold back.

What is overall end goal? What does he want? Well for right now, he sees it as a game of good vs evil. He wants himself and Hanako to "Play together" like they used to. Of course, them playing is more on the violent side this time around, but that doesn't mean he doesn't love him. Tsukasa adores his brother (he's upset when Yashiro says he's not her type), but he thinks that violently going against each other is a form of fun. He admits to Yashiro that he sees himself and his brother as arch-enemies, and he's fully embracing the role he's playing in this game they're playing. He went after Yashiro for two reasons, first to get to know her because she's friends with his brother (he fully thinks they're dating), second to go against her in this deadly game (get rid of her) because he sees her as playing this game as well. Sakura and himself vs Yashiro and his brother; he doesn't so much care for Natsuhiko and Kou, they're just there, they help out sometimes. The real opponents are them and their assistants. Getting rid of his assistant would give Tsukasa an advantage in this game they're playing, so of course it'd be the move he'd take.

Of course, he's not too torn about it when she survives. So what, they won that round; we're no longer playing that round, we're no longer addressing that round. It's also great as that means she can keep playing. He finds her quite fun, when he first met her he was impressed by her gusto and how she just went to attack him like that. He doesn't like it when she interrupts him, but he's learned to be gentle to girls. He usually goes after Nene when trying to influence what happens next on his brother's side. He put a spy on her to see how his brother handled a twisted rumor, he had Sakura influence her to go tothe 4pm bookstacks to learn more about his brother, and he used her donut gift to find a way to visit him.

This is because he's met her before, and thinks she's fun to play with. In the picture perfect arc, he even wished her luck in killing his brother, and sent her with Mei because she helped her realize her wish, untimely freeing her from her cell Hanako locked her in. He seems like he's on her side, as he seems to support whatever crazy idea she has; like when she's suddenly okay with dying, he tells Hanako to let her die or else he's being selfish and a hypocrite. Then again, when his brother gets the idea to break every Yorishiro and then get a wish to save her, he's all for that because that would mean much more chaos would be unleashed. So not exactly on her side, just in support of her usually not supported ideas. He just wants to see what she'd do in these trying situations, because he likes her gusto. Of course, he knows that breaking every Yorishiro would lead to her death, but he's okay with that; he was okay when he himself was murdered. He does know she doesn't like killing people, but if she does end up doing it, she has his full support. If not, well she's locked in the boundary until she does. He likes playing with her. We get to school festival arc, and Tsukasa from the past asks her to play with him again.

When time is frozen, it seems he's talking to her more than Hanako. Probably because Hanako knows most of what he's saying already. He does ask him if he would still save everyone even if meant bringing Yashiro closer to her death. Tsukasa wants him to break the Yorishiro and save everyone, it's why they broke the clock in the first place. However, he is curious on what they rather do in this situation.

Why does he do what he does in chapter 105? For starters, I think he just wanted to know what kissing was like. When he met Yashiro for the tea party and he though Sakura was dating his brother, he asked what the kisses were like, and said he heard they tasted like lemons. When that's cleared up, he asked Yashiro what his brother's kisses were like because he assumed they were dating. When that's cleared up, he asks Sakura if she would smooch him, and that was a no.

Now Yashiro and Hanako are frozen in time but still conscious, and Tsukasa is aware that they like each other (Did he see them kiss in the boundary? Maybe.) These guys aren't going to do anything, and he can do anything to them. He kisses Nene. Nene is mainly confused, as she usually is by what Tsukasa does, and Hanako is not just confused but also very upset by that. Tsukasa probably did that to know what kissing was like, but maybe to also know what's it like to kiss her (like his brother does), and lastly probably just to get a rise out of Hanako. Yeah, I don't think he likes Nene like that. He likes her as another player of the game and thinks she's interesting, but probably only kissed her because of Hanako's feelings for her, to make him feel more helpless. He does seem pretty happy after he does it, probably because it was nice, and it satisfied his curiosity.

After the kiss, he kidnaps her, saying "You're my assistant now, okay?" He already has an assistant, and Yashiro doesn't even owe him anything, so she's not bound to him. Tsukasa is an honest guy, but I'm not sure how much of this he truly meant. It probably means he's going to keep her, and maybe force her to do what he wants like with Sumire and #6. He might be expecting Hanako to try to save her, but Hanako doesn't know where his hideout is. Also the two of them are frozen, can Tsukasa get Nene out of it? How is he expecting Hanako to get out of it? These things I don't know. If he can't get Nene out of it, he probably just wants to keep her frozen body around. If he can, he might force her to destroy #1's Yorishiro. If Hanako doesn't get out of it, everyone will be in frozen torment for eternity, which could be nice. If he does, he'd need Yashiro to destroy the Yorishiro, unless they force #1 to destroy it themselves.

Another thing I'm not sure about: he's a yorishiro. If he's destroyed he'll cease to exist, so he won't get to see that world he want's to see so badly or finish his game. Did that slip his mind? Probably not. My guess is that he wants to have a final battle with Hanako, and the winner will see the world come to fruition and win the game. Maybe he'll be content enough that the world of chaos will come to pass even if he won't get to see it. Maybe since Hanako doesn't want to hurt him again, he try to force Yashiro's hand.

Anyways, with Tsukasa as a villain I'm a little excited to see how things will play out, and also a little horrified.

[mochinek0]

Agreste-Wayne 16

Alya sat nervously on the opposite side of the Parisian reporter. Nadja Chamack had long since passed down the role so she had no idea how this person would act.

"We are live on Tvi with Alya Cesaire!" they announced, "She has gained quite a bit of a reputation recently. Many of you may remember she worked for Parisian Abroad and wrote the retracted story of Adrien Agreste and Marinette Wayne's supposed love affair. Today, she is here to talk about her new blog and what led to her creating it."

Alya smiled nervously at the camera and waved.

"Um, I pretty much stated in my blog what led up to all of this. I believed in the wrong person and that person was Layla Rossi. She was a new student, in college, and quickly wowed us with stories of all these amazing things she did. I lost touch with a lot of classmates over the years. I can't say she was the reason or not. I know a few people know she was liar and I don't blame them in the slightest. I was-am, I am stubborn." Alya began.

"You posted a link with a list of lies she told in school." they declared, "Can you elaborate on those?"

"Yes. Of course." Alya answered, "Lila, um, Layla missed a lot of school. She was always saying how she was going on trips with her mother, an ambassador. She would even zoom call the teacher to tell us about her 'trips'."

"And you are sure she wasn't on these trips?" they asked.

"I didn't see it then, but she would never leave the hotel room." Alya explained, "Someone brought it up that every hotel room looked the same. She began to tear up and said that her mother's company only used the same hotel brand so all rooms should look the same. We believed her. Later, they pointed out how Lila never showed us pictures of her on any of these trips. She would go to exotic places: the Kingdom of Achu, Hawaii, the Amazon rainforest. I wish I had listened more when they said that there was no proof she was doing these things."

"Was that all there was too it?" they inquired, "No proof?"

"No." she replied, "Layla claimed to be doing these 'inspirational' acts, like feeding the homeless, building homes in Africa, helping Prince Ali with an environmental project, making clothes by hand for orphaned children and a lot more. If you're curious, you can look at the blog; most of these I did disprove. For one, the Prince Ali of Achu doesn't do environmental projects. He has charities for pediatric hospitals. Many of us donated money to the 'environmental project'. Anytime we asked her to help with something she claimed to have done, she would have an excuse. She also told us she had all these disabilities: tinnitus, arthritis, weak ankles, fractured lymph nodes, and so on. All of which sounds really stupid to say outloud, especially if she was out building homes. In fact, we've never met her parents so there's no guarantee she even was an ambassador's daughter."

"That does sound pretty....hard to believe." the reporter declared.

Alya nodded, "We were fourteen and thought we all had this amazing friend who did all these amazing things! At twenty-two, it doesn't sound plausible. There's so many mistakes, so many inconsistencies. They saw right through her. They were smarter than all of us."

"Alya, I know we asked you here to talk about you're blog." the reporter began, "We also asked some other people to talk about their experiences with Layla Rossi."

Alya looked off to the side to see who would be walking out.

'Is it Nino? It could be anyone from Bustier's class.'

Alya quickly turned when she heard a noise and saw the giant screen was trying to connect to a video.

'Did they not want to be here in person? How horrible did Lila treat this person that they're possibly going to disguise their identity?'

Alya froze in her seat. She never expected it would be them.

PERMANENT TAG LIST: @animeweebgirl @a-star-with-a-human-name @meme991001 @vixen-uchiha @abrx2002 @alysrose-starchild @fandom-trapped-03 @dood-space @moonlightstar64 @saltymiraculer @marveldcedits20 @09shell-sea09 @icerosecrystal @animegirlweeb @insane-fangirl-of-everything @blueblossombliss @nickristus-dreamer​ @thepaceperson​

AGRESTE-WAYNE TAG LIST: @danielslilangel @pawsitivelymiraculous @crystalangelluna @tomanyfandomsonmymind @sassakitty @ichigorose @megawhitleycalderonpaganus

[ererokii]

Sooo... This request thing. You're aweosme 👉👈

Ooh boy it's a long one (changed it a bit)

-Erens so cute when he purrs and when you mention his curiosity and twitching ears ears and gentle touch, so as not to hurt the reader.

-when he kinda is paying attention to, analysing the reader or protecting them its SO cute

-It would maybe end as like cuddles and things and just... Talking. To him and him grunting or just nodding or thinking replies.

-Maybe be at night.

-Maybe it would start with... Eren In human form.

-Maybe he figures out that you don't think his titan form is so ugly but still a little new and scary and that maybe you like it

- Bam if you can somehow NSFW that... Uhmm?

So he... Turns into a titan and then. Some NSFW or just. Maybe he like. Scares or teases the reader on purpose for a reaction?

-And then NSFW somehow if you wanna put that in. Sorry for the way I type I'm kinda doing it as it all appears in my head lol

-I like your cute, and desperate eren, but also attentive and caring. I haven't seen you write a very cheeky or playful titan eren so maybe that would be nice.

I REALLY ENJOYED WRITING THIS ONE. Here you monsterfuckers, take your TITAN SMUT.

WARNINGS: MONSTERFUCKING. Oral (f receiving), mention of voyeurism, overstimulation, dumbification, multiple orgasms, edging, characters are 18+.

If these themes make you uncomfortable or you rather avoid, please block the tag “AOT SMUT” WC: 1.7K

Also thank you to the amazing @galair for this beautiful art🥺 everyone go check her out

Eren stays deep within his thoughts as he hums to himself, staring up at the starry sky. His loose strands tickle the shell of his ear, itching to scratch away at it but refuses. He can’t recall the conversation before the silence. It’s always been on his mind, but he’s been inquisitive as to what you saw him as, even if he knew the answer.

Am I a monster to you? Or am I just like you?

You knew Eren was quite insecure with himself when it came to his titan powers; no matter how many times he asked you that, you always gave him the same answer.

You were never a monster; you’re just a broken human like me. 

For some reason, that has never failed to put a smile on his face. Being able to categorize himself with humans made him feel complete, separate from the monster people used to call him when he discovered the powers. 

But know that he’s aware (once again) of how you feel, does he scare you?

Maybe he could ask you--, but he doesn’t want to ruin the mood at all. Now that he thinks of it, he can’t recollect a moment where you’ve seemed scared to be in his presence, unlike other comrades who look like they’ll leak themselves any moment. 

Without even thinking, he blurts out the question. His eyes widen slightly when he realizes the words slipped past his lips.

“Am I scared of your titan form?” you ask, glancing over at him as you sit up, staring down at him from your position. “I mean, it is always somewhat overwhelming to see something so much bigger than me, and when I sit in your hands but no, besides that, I'm not.”

“Do you think it’s ugly?”

“I don’t,” you say with a smile, legs crisscrossed. “I think it’s unique. You know, just for you. I think it’s quite cute and--” you trail off, glancing over to the side. “--somewhat hot,” you cough in between words, hoping he missed that.

“Hot?” he asks, a hint of smugness evident in his tone.” You think it’s hot?” he leans up on his elbows, a smirk curled at his lips. “Why is that?”

“W-Well, I’m not going to tell you that! That’s too personal.”

“What if I turned right now?”

“Y-You can’t! Captain Levi and Hanji would come to chew you out if you did!”

“Hanji gave me the go-ahead to transform whenever I wanted to, just not to cause destruction,” he gets up with a grunt, backing up a few feet back. By the time he was in position before you could speak, lightning struck the earth, the ground crumbling from the shock. 

You dug your fingers into the ground, lowering your head from the gusts of wind. In no time, it calmed down as you avert your gaze upward, emeralds stare down at you from high above, brown tresses swooshing in the air. 

“You did,” you breathed out, releasing your grip on the dirt. Your hands are unsteady, still trying to compose yourself from the sudden change.

He’s not moving, standing as still as a statue before he drops to his knees, the birds sound asleep in the trees now awake and flying away from the commotion. Your heart feels as if it could burst from the confinements of your chest. 

Your left eye peeks open, cowering within yourself. Your body freezes when you see how close he is. His body is lowered to the ground; knees pushed in like a Sphinx. His eyes glow in the darkness, a new feeling taking over your body. 

His heavy breathing fans over your face, his head cocked to the side as if he was examining your small figure. He finds humor in your expression, nudging your body with his nose.

From the small force added, it caused your body to get pushed back. His ears twitch, the tips sticking upward. He moves forward, doing it once more.

“Eren, quit it,” you huff, sticking your arms out to keep him from doing it again-- which he’ll end up doing too. There’s no doubt that in that nape, he’s having the time of his life. 

He wonders what else he can do like this. He thinks for a minute, noises emitting from his throat. He sticks one of his hands out, shakily raising a finger, and places his hands in between your legs. 

He catches your gaze, his tongue peeking as he leans forward, barely pressing the tip against the bare skin of your neck. The new sensation causes your breath to hitch in the back of your throat, eyeing the pink flesh before gulping lowly.

Eren pulls away, looking at your skirt that happened to ride up your legs. His eyes seem to darken as his mouth closes, teeth grinding against each other. 

“Eren?” you question him as he inches closer, his head lowering slightly to the ground. You’re about to call for him again, but his tongue makes an appearance also, pushing the material up more. Your eyes enlarge, fingers curling around the fabric of your shirt-- to which looks like fear in his eyes. 

A noise of somewhat sadness comes from him, his ears lowering. 

“N-No, it’s okay, Eren,” you stutter, face heating up from his motions. If you were honest, you could feel a small wetness pool in between your legs. 

Before you know it, the tip of his tongue is in between your legs, the muscle lapping over your clothed cunt. Your arms are shaky as you let out a little gasp that sounds so cute to his ears; he can’t help but circle it around your clit. 

A predatory look is in his eyes, looking down like you were his meal. The muscle goes sound, poking at your slicked entrance. Panting, you glance down at the position and pull your panties aside, shivering from the chilly wind and hot breathing in between your legs. 

His jaw slacked; he works wonders on your needy cunt. The texture and saliva are enough to make you sensitive on the spot. Your eyes roll back as you chant his name, his tongue licking stripes up and down your folds, squelching noises occurring from his rapid movement. 

Your legs are shaking from the overwhelming sensation. God, it’s becoming too much, but you can’t stop him, nor if you wanted to. You felt as if you would fall to the depths of the earth but yet stayed in reality. 

The tip flicks at your folds, an incoherent noise getting stuck in the back of your throat when he begins to move it side to side rather than up and down. 

You’re so needy for him at this point. You want him to stuff your tight cunt with his cock, to feel him stretch you out as he fucks you to no end. Having him do this to you was on another level of ecstasy, but you would accept it if this came up again. 

The pressure he puts on your fragile body is enough to send you backward, but the way your heels dig into the ground and his gentle touches prevent that from happening. The slick left in between your thighs trickle down to your ass; the feeling becomes uncomfortable but erotic. 

“Fuck baby,” you whisper, head falling back, staring up at the sky with lidded eyes. “Fuu..p-please don’t stop,” you slur, thoughts clouding with nothing but immense pleasure.

God, what if someone caught you? The adrenaline running through your body wouldn’t even let you care about that. But the thought of someone hearing you moan out pathetically as Eren licks away at your cunt, have you moaning out. 

You wouldn’t be surprised if someone overheard. Eren’s tongue was a gift that meant to be cherished, even if that meant having him do this every day for you to get used to the sticky yet warmth radiating from the muscle.

The inside of your legs trembles, your head spinning in circles, rubbing small lazy circles on your puffy clit, desperate to be touched by his tongue. Your hole was being circled, his tongue barely pressing before retracting; the little shit was teasing you. 

One of his fingers gently places over your leg to keep you from moving so much. His finger alone is enough to make you feel weighed down. 

Your lips are moving, but nothing is coming out; no noise, no words. You’re completely out of it. Your fingers are clenching and unclenching around nothing, barely holding onto whatever it was you were. If someone were to ask you what day it was, you wouldn’t be able to tell the time of day or where you were at. 

“ ‘M gonna cum,” your voice comes out soft yet needy, shifting your hips side to side, bucking your hips to the best of your ability. “I wanna cum on your tongue.”

His eyes flicker, a stripe licked up between your folds before resting on your clit-- a place that desperately needs attention. 

Your delicate body is on the brink of defeat; an orgasm after orgasm washes over your body, and he shows no signs of stopping. You’re practically gushing at this point, your juices running down his jaw. You’ve made many feeble attempts to push him away; a growl would emit from him when you tried to do so. 

Sweat trickles down your face into your clothes, causing the front of your shirt to stick onto your skin—short breaths of air, hiccups erupting from your throat. Your eyes roll back as your body finally gives out, falling backward onto his hand that was keeping you upright. 

As you fall, a purring sound reaches your ears as his tongue finally retracts from your mess cunt, his eyes glancing at your slick sticking to you. His finger rubs the inside of your thigh, gently wiping away the transparent substance. His ears flicker as he listens to your heavy breathing, trying your best to catch the air that was taken away from you. 

He lovingly nuzzles his nose against your patella, his dark tresses tickling your supple skin. After being pushed through multiple orgasms, you weren’t even sure if you could walk or get up from this position. 

But he finally got his answer as to why you thought he was hot. 

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