#like i said i'm reclaiming will he's mine now

[raya-hunter01]

WIP Wednesday-Bad Habit

Thank you @theninthwonder and @empressdedefor the tag. This is a one-shot I started but never finished.

“Roman!” I screamed, as his eyes twinkled with mischief, his smirk making me want to reach out and slap his ass, but he felt so fuckin’ good inside me.

“Yea, I’m here baby, daddy’s here,” he moaned as I clawed at his back whimpering beneath him as gripped my hips, bending my legs towards my head as he plunged deeper inside me.

“Baby!” I gasped at the new position as he growled against my lips.

“Uh, huh I got yo’ ass now,” his body trembling against mine as our lips found each other once again. "Let Daddy take care of you."

“Fuck! Ouuu wait,” I whimpered against his lips, gently pushing my hands against his stomach. His trust became more powerful as he swam deeply in my welcoming ocean.

“Ain’t no fuckin’ wait, move dem hands and take all this dick. Daddy, missed you, baby.”

“I missed you too!” I exclaimed unashamed as he reclaimed me. “Have you been givin’ him my pussy?” he questioned as I whimpered against him.

 “Nah, answer me, has he had my pussy?" Roman groaned snapping his hips, thrusting deeper inside me.  “Yes!” I whimpered, refusing to look at him.

 “Look at me Savannah,” he growled grasping my chin as our eyes met.

 “Tell Daddy you're sorry for givin’ away his pussy,” he groaned, grasping my hands, pinning them to the bed.

“I’m sorry Daddy, oh!” I cried, truly at his mercy.  “Good girl, Daddy forgives you,” he murmured against my lips. His strokes long, hard, and deep as I tightened around him.

  “Fuck! Yea, grip dat dick and don’t let go,” he groaned his thrusts becoming more wild as he released my hands.

On instinct, I entangled my fingers in his beautiful mane pulling him closer.

“Baby, I can’t let you go. I know what we said, but I can’t,” he growled grasping my throat, claiming my lips in a possessive kiss.

 “Me either, but I don't want to hurt him. We have to stop this," I moaned feeling overwhelmed, as we gave in to our desires.

“I don’t care about Carmelo; I care about us,” he panted as I clawed at his back, whimpering in pleasure.

"It's not right," I whimpered as he claimed my lips once again, silencing me.

 “You were mine first...You still mine." he declared hitting my G-spot over and over, as I silently prayed my legs wouldn't cramp up as my feet touched my head.

Each stroke was more powerful than the last as a low primal growl escaped Roman's lips. "I'm cummin!" I cried as he groaned in praise.

"Fuck, you're such a good girl," he moaned, claiming my lips one last time as we fell over the cliff of ecstasy together.

And just like that, I had fallen back into my bad habit…..

Tagging @southerngirl41 @reci1996 @kyleoreillylover

Taglist:

@reci24 @southerngirl41 @vebner37 @jeyusos-girl

@melaninsugababy @romanreignkisser @bebesobrielo

@arination99 @2-muchsauce @bakugoumarianawrites

@empressdede @alyyaanna @christinabae @anonandwannakeepitthatway @venusesworld @jeyusosgirl  @theninthwonder @mya2real  @justazzi @whatdoeseverybodywant @reignsboy19 wooahmiri alichesmi pytbgeezy

#wwe roman reigns #roman reigns fanfic #roman reigns imagine #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns smut #roman reigns fluff #roman reigns x black reader #roman reigns x oc #roman reigns x reader #roman reigns x y/n #roman reigns x chubby oc #roman reigns #wwe smut #wwe fanfiction

[fuckitwebhaal]

the dark urge

please do not come for me these are just my takes and opinions on the durge route, as someone who has run it through a few times and is pretty familiar with the lore in regards to the previous games. also massive spoilers below. like if you do not want any dark urge spoilers stop reading now.

The Dark Urge (henceforth referred to as DU), whether approached narratively as resisting or as succumbing, is more of a solidly fleshed out origin for a customizable player character compared to Tav. The reason for this is because the DU follows the precedent set by the previous Baldur's Gate games where the main player character is a Bhaalspawn. (If I recall correctly, that was also the intention for BG3, but it was scrapped and the origins split to allow for a fully customizable option).

I'm not going to get into the history of the Bhaalspawn, save to say this much: The protagonist of BG1 & 2, Gorion's Ward, is referenced on rare occasion throughout a DU playthrough and is implied to be dead. (Though they are never named as Abdel Adrian from the TTRPG canon, it is implied that it seems to be following a blend of canon from BG2 and the TTRPG canon). Bhaal, who had split his divine essence into his many children, relied on their deaths and a ritual so that he could return--in a physical sense--to the planes and reclaim his godhood as the Lord of Murder.

You, BG3 DU protag, are crafted purely from Bhaal's divine essence. This was confusing to me at first, because I had believed Bhaal incapable of having any more mortal children (due to not having a physical presence), but it is implied that Bhaal's spiritual and divine essence is strong enough to form you from himself, he is merely lacking the ritual that would return him to physicality. Which is where you come in. And, Orin, I guess.

Because you were crafted from Bhaal, it is implied that any cultural or genetic claim (such as half-elf, dragonborn, or whatever race you choose) is but Bhaal's mimicry of what those stereotypes should be. You're a killer, a Bhaalyn through and through, and you'll be the one to slay the world and slit your own throat on the carcasses left behind to bring about Bhaal's return. The only thing is, you got cocky. Confident. Comfortable. Careless. You got comfortable in your alliance with Gortash and Ketheric. Orin was jealous and wanted your blessing--your place as Bhaal's chosen--, so she struck you down, muddled your mind, and infected you with a mindflayer parasite. That's why you have no memory, and why you ended up on that ship.

So, here you are. You have no memories, but you have a rage and a disgrace and a vengeance you can't quite place. You've got an urge telling you to kill, kill, kill.

Pause. In previous games, the Bhaalspawn protagonist didn't have a "dark urge" that caused you to want to commit violence or murders outside of your control. (Not including Siege of Dragonspear (2016), which does include one uncontrollable murder. This DLC was released as a bridge between BG1 & 2 and came out after the pitches for BG3 had begun). It's implied that this is because of your pure divine creation--think Jesus. Think godspawn. God and mortal. That's what you are, murder incarnate.

The main crux of the DU run, then, becomes this: what do you want to do with this? There are a few paths laid out before you, but the narrative is pretty clear: you are a killer, and you'll always be a killer. This is where I first ran into my concerns with the DU; I was afraid it was going to be an edgelord-y, murderhobo-y playthrough that sacrificed story and companion mechanics for the sake of a bloody kill and edgy narration. I was pleasantly surprised to find that it wasn't the case, because the story unfurls really well no matter which way you go.

A friend of mine played the DU run totally evil; every bad option, every urge indulged, so I asked them what they thought of it. They said it "It definitely involved a lot more violence and death than [their Tav] run, but it's not like [they] murdered everyone [they] came across", and "It did feel a lot like someone very confused with themselves becoming very drunk with the power that comes with the urge".

I played my two DU playthroughs in two parallel ways. The first being Kyr; a DU who wanted to resist his urges and talked a good talk, had a good heart, but at every major moment, he failed to resist and ultimately succumbed back to Bhaal's embrace and became his Chosen.

My other playthrough is Nyris; a cynical, mistrustful bastard, he started out a little rocky, but growing with his companions caused him to reject the evil in his blood despite his other moral shortcomings; in the critical moments, he rejected Bhaal's influence and overcame.

How the DU presents to me, then, is this: nature v nurture. Which will win, which will overcome? By playing Kyr, it felt as though the nature was his driving force. It didn't matter how removed he was or how hard he tried to convince others that he could do better--how hard he could try to convince himself he could do better--he was already doomed by the narrative. Bhaal's manipulations drove him back home, and he didn't even realize that he'd been sucked back into the cult until it was far too late.

But, then, what about Nyris? To him, it felt like nurture. If you remove the cult from him, the indoctrination, what was left? A man struggling to make his own identity, but among those who reaffirmed it every chance that they could. He relied on his own strength and that of those around him to overcome, even if he was unsure, afraid, doubted. It feels like the nurture, or lack thereof, of Bhaal and the Bhaalist cult meant that he was free to grow and learn away from it.

It's something I find further supported in conversations with Jaheira and Minsc, who both talk about "their Bhaalspawn companion", otherwise known as Gorion's Ward from the first two games.

[ID: Minsc: "If Minsc did not inherit the flaming red hair of his mother, or the bushy red beard of his father, why would the spawn of Bhaal inherit his wickedness?"

Kyrran: "We should talk about nature versus nurture some day."

Minsc: "It is simple. As with all battles, the winner will be the one that carries the bigger sword."]

So, in my opinion, the personal arc of the DU and one that the player must engage with is the idea of nature versus nurture, and how your DU will cope with the revelations of their paths in light of the new memories and friendships that they have forged. That's not to say you can't always swing to one extreme; never indulge or always indulge, it's still digging into that nature versus nurture idea.

There is, also, the more overarching theme of BG3 in regards to breaking cycles of abuse, power, and control. If you lean into the idea of nature v nurture, and you realize that there were originally foster families involved in the upbringing of the DU (before said families were murdered, or the DU stolen away by the Bhaalist cult), you have to consider two things:

1.) Bhaal is comparable to both Shar and Vlaakith as gods that indoctrinate their religious followers, and

2.) Bhaal is comparable to Mystra and Cazador as those who take control of a severe power imbalance to inflict their will.

The narrative informs you, if you accept Bhaal's gift as Chosen, exactly the consequences that will fall upon you. It is the same as the consequences that are so heavily explained to you in regards to Shadowheart, Lae'zel, Gale, and Astarion.

[ID: *A gift from your god, your Father. An offering of his affection for you, or confirmation that he owns you.*]

[ID: *For a moment, the brine-pool of your brain clears. To die: to rest, to save the world from yourself. To accept, to become his prophet - in any disobedience, subject to his lash.*]

A lot of people say that the DU run is the "evil" playthrough, and it truly isn't. Just like any of the other decisions you make in this game in regards to your companion quest, it is a question of power and control. Power you give up by rejecting Bhaal is also control that he loses over you. Power you gain in accepting him, to exert over others, is also the control he will take. It's up to you how you will approach the DU, but I think it is shortsighted to say it is the "evil" playthrough if you are not fully engaging with the themes. You can make all of the good options that you can make with Tav--but you are fighting the narrative. The narrative has a plan for you. If you want to resist, you will have to fight for it.

#anyways. i will probably add on more to this. at some point. #fiwb meta #bg3 meta #bg3 #baldur’s gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 spoilers #durge spoilers #the dark urge #baldur's gate 3 spoilers #dark urge spoilers #bg3 dark urge #bg3 dark urge spoilers #spoilers #spoiler tag #meta tag #meta

[cruelfeline]

So, for all of y'all who aren't familiar with Dwarf Fortress, I'm going to explain why it's such a phenomenal game.

Dwarf Fortress is a colony simulator that's been developed by two brothers since 2003. A few weeks ago, it finally released on Steam with a UI that even i can understand. It is the grandfather of things like Rimworld and Minecraft.

So what makes it different from all of the other games in the genre? What makes it different is that it simulates a world beyond your colony. A world with gods, monsters, civilizations... a whole history outside of your colony. A real, living world for you to play in.

I can better explain this by showing y'all what happened to my latest fortress. The one that experienced Wereanteater Armageddon.

My dwarves were having a nice time. I'd just figured out how to build instruments and was outfitting the new tavern properly when-

Surprise! Wereanteater.

Said wereanteater eventually turned back into a goblin and ran off-map, but not before infecting some of my dwarves. Which led to... well...

Absolute massacres every month. With more wereanteaters each time. Which eventually led to...

One lone dwarf, haunted by the ghost of one of the many slain, sitting next to the werecorpse of his last companion. They'd fought to the death the moment they'd last transformed, and he was the survivor. But, of course, he couldn't move.

So! That was that. Fortress destroyed, time to move on. I abandoned the fortress and decided to start anew.

But! Where did our wereanteater come from? What was his story?

In Dwarf Fortress, everything has a story.

So before starting a new fortress, I went ahead and checked the Legends mode: the mode that has the whole history of everyone and everything written out for the player to read.

First, I found my fortress' record, and I scanned down to where the deaths began.

There we go... the attack started with a goblin named Azstrog Terrorhymed. Who is that? Why does he turn into a monstrous anteater?

Here he is, in his entry, biting my dwarf. And... actually beating her to death with Sensedterror Explained, which another entry says is a book he wrote. About some sort of horror-pit he had a nightmare about. Huh.

And looking further back, we can see that, about twenty five years before he came to my fortress, he profaned the Abbey of Shafts in a settlement called Gearedopened. Possibly due to having some bad experiences with gambling and false friendships. This resulted in someone called Ngalak cursing him to become a wereanteater every full moon. And who is Ngalak?

Ngalak is apparently a dwarven god associated with caverns and mountains. And also:

Azstrog wasn't the only creature he's cursed with wereform for profanity! There are at least two others potentially running around. So that's... comforting.

And as for Azstrog? His entry says that he settled in the Fair Mines after dooming my fortress. Checking that entry, we find it to be a lair. A lair that now contains a wereanteater. A wereanteater who was once a goblin who seemed down on his luck and, in a moment of forgetting himself, ended up the object of divine wrath. Which in turn led to the violent deaths of about fifty dwarves in the fortress of Knowring twenty five years later!

This is why Dwarf Fortress is so amazing! There are plenty of games that will introduce an obstacle for your characters to face, but how many will ensure that that obstacle had a whole life of his own prior to ever meeting you?

On second thought, I think I'll reclaim Knowring, rather than starting a new fortress. And I'll bury its many dead, take over its workshops, and see if I can find the Fair Mines.

See if I can find Azstrog Terrorhymed again. See if he's still alive, or if he's met his end one way or another.

But first: time to build dozens of tombs!

#dwarf fortress #cf plays df

[things-arent-what-they-seem66]

PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE hear me out, can we please get a one shot where Adam is being hit on a by a random sinner and the demon isn’t letting up on the flirting. Until Adam is suddenly hoisted over Lucifer’s shoulder while Lucifer is giving the demon the mother of all glares as he says, “this ass is MINE!” And slaps Adam’s booty while stalking away

PLEASE I NEED SUSTENANCE

Well since you asked so nicely ;)

Adam just couldn't seem to shake this loser, he followed him all around the club. He just wanted to have a nice time out with his boyfriend and friends, but no this asshole was insistent on trying to fuck him.

"Come on baby, I know you want it. Playing hard to get is fun and all, but this is getting silly." The sinner said as he undressed Adam with his eyes.

Gross.

"How many fucking times do I have to tell you to get lost, prick face! I have a boyfriend." Adam growled, this was just getting annoying.

The sinner snorted. "Really? I don't see him."

"Turn around." The sinner turned to see Lucifer standing behind him, relief flooded Adams insides. "Now you see him."

"I don't see much. Piss off short stack, I'm taking him home." The sinner found himself on the floor, pain in his throat from where Lucifer punched it.

Lucifer stood over the guy, red wholly red and a glare on his face. Adam squeaked when the king reached over and slung him over his shoulder. "This ass is mine!" He slapped Adam on the ass for good measure. "He's royal property, so back off." His voice went all demonic and low.

When he turned to leave with his boyfriend, Adam gave the asshole on the floor the finger. "Bye, bitch!"

"Let's get you home my dear, apparently I need to reclaim what is rightfully mine.~" Lucifer purred and Adam shivered.

"Why wait til we get home? We have the limo." Adam suggested and he earned a grope to his ass.

"I like the way you think my love."

#adamsapple #lucifer x adam #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel lucifer #ask

[spahhzy]

*In a different dimension*

Salem: Alright, Arc. I literally have you in a different dimension their is no one to save you now from the torment I will instill on you!

Jaune: Oh no please have mercy!

Salem: Yes, where Cinder failed, I have succeeded! Prepare yourself it's going to hurt...a lot.

Jaune: Please, before you torment me, take out my scroll and let me show you something.

Salem: Ha, it doesn't matter, I have full command of this dimension, so I'll humor you.

Salem reaches into Jaune's pocket and pulls out his scroll, she puts said scroll in front of him, and using his nose, he opens up his photo gallery and clicks on a picture before pulling back as Salem looks at the photo.

Salem: What am I looking at Arc?

It was a photo of some ducks in the back of a police car that Nora and Ren were driving.

Salem: Why do you have ducks in the back of a cop car!? Is this some kind of game!?

Jaune: no ma'am we don't take selling drugs on our streets lightly.

Salem: Drugs? What drugs their ducks!

Jaune: They were selling Quack!

Salem: ...

Jaune: ...

Salem: You're so going to -

Suddenly, the ground started to shake and quake as the sky began to grow dark before suddenly

Salem: What the hell is going on!

Jaune just smiled.

???: Mine! Mine! Mine! Mine!

Salem: Who is that! Who could possibly be that STRONG!?

Like a comet or meteor, one Yang Xiao Long crash landed successfully in front of Salem.

Giving a thumbs up after eating rocks, Yang stood up at the gawking Salem before going to reclaim her boyfriend but not before giving her the finger before shooting off back to home with her Jaune in a bridal carry.

Salem: I-i-wh-what?

Back in Remnant.

Weiss: SHE TORE OPEN A WHAT!?!?!?!?!

Nora: Tore open the fabric of our dimension, no biggie.

Blake: I'm surprised you didn't go after her Ruby.

Ruby: I'll let Yang win this round...

#jaune arc #ruby rose #yang xiao long #rwby salem #dragonslayer #weiss schnee #blake bellodona #nora valkyrie

[a-faggot-with-opinions]

Oh, and since I have to clarify it for a fucking airhead like you - I never said you have to face extreme homophobia to be gay. I said you're so drunk with your straight privilege that you fetishize real oppression by calling yourself a homophobuc slur, the equivalent of which is shouted in countries like mine by homophobes while they're killing actual gay men (not trans identified females like you, that is). Learn to fucking read.

me and a cis guy kissing

homophobe: faggots!

cis guy: actually, while i am a human male, my boyfriend here has a vagina.

homophobe: so he can't reclaim faggot?

me: nope!

homophobe: oh my god i'm so sorry! I'll leave you alone now.

@genderkoolaid

#asks #transandrophobia

[masha-nikita]

Better have a good enemy than a crazy friend (cont.)

I re-used Rommel from a previous work, because I like this Rommel but dissatisfied with the other work :/

Two Scorpios. INTERESTING.

The whole thing started with this post. The said friend finally agrees to help a little bit with fanfic. She doesn't speak English and I'm clueless with omegaverse; that is a problem LOL.

Here goes nothing.

They’ve been through this ritual for… how many days now? Making love in abandonment till the slim golden dawn undulates across the desert’s pale dunes. The intercourse continues well into morning hours, when the sun begins to burn their fragrant skins a little, and the inside of Rommel’s lower belly laden with his enemy’s alpha seeds.

“Indeed, this grand scenery does not exist in Europe.” Monty says as he sits up, “here, in Africa, this is the hill I am willing to die on.” Then, he smiles at his own military humor. Rommel lazily eyes him, still basking in post-coital bliss. He could only make out “Europe” and “Africa” from the other man’s monologue.

Montgomery along with his squad captured Rommel when the daring Fox got too close to the British base, during a foolhardy scouting mission with limited supplies of his necessary medicines. Once Montgomery accidentally triggered his enemy’s omega response, the Fox becomes Monty’s willing POW-- even his iron will had to bend before this primitive drive. Rommel knew it was his own blunder, and a terrible one. He has no right to complain.

Rommel grabs the English man’s hand and places it on his abdomen, muttering a few German words. Monty playfully wanders his hand downwards between his thighs. The Fox snaps it back, places Monty’s hand, yet again, on his flat belly. Seeing Montgomery in the mood of messing around, Rommel gives up communication, punches him squarely in the face, gets up, collects his clothes, promptly walks off towards the general direction of the Afrika Korps.

Montgomery does not treat him like a POW. It’s his own blunder. Rommel thinks to himself in utter frustration.

“Wait! I apologize! What is it you want to say? I'm listening!” Montgomery catches up to him, his face freshly swollen from the punch. He has nothing on him but his iconic black beret and underwear, a rather pathetic sight for this good general, but one that gives Rommel the illusion that the otherworldly love between enemies is possible.

Rommel sighs, damn this language barrier, damn that this barrier is powerless against enemy penetration into his soul. He carefully brings out a medal from his uniform front pocket, places it in Montgomery’s palm. It is both small and light and incredibly heavy, its color creamy porcelain blue.

“I am a man of duty, both to my country and my wife. I cannot further blacken my already tainted conscience.” He says, in a tongue he knows the other man does not comprehend, “But I do owe you. I’ll bring this child to you and reclaim my honor, eventually. I’ll be a part of their life until the very end of mine. This embodies my highest promise to you.”

Montgomery could tell it is the renowned Pour le Merite, prized treasure of all the 3rd Reich's officers. His heart sinks a little.

“Here.” Monty takes the golden badge off his beret, his movements clumsy with haste. “This represents me, all those politicians, and the civilians back in London recognize my status by this symbol. May it be with you, as though I am with you.”

“Thank you.” In a low voice, he speaks the only English he knows. Rommel's intention is to come back for his medal, but Monty has a hunch, they'll never see each other again.

///

Tension runs high in the OKH headquarters. Both Halder and von Brauchitsch are absent. Hitler throws the papers flying across the mahogany table. Apart from that, the room is eerily silent.

“I am not going to approve of your discharge, Field Marshal Erwin Rommel.”

“Since I am also implicated in the conspiracy case, Führer, I…”

“Don’t Führer me, you traitor, you whore!” Hitler snaps at him, already showing signs of nervous breakdowns, “Goebbel has been working his head off to promote you as our Reich’s prominent alpha hero! Only a few of us knew what you really are. You have that little extra bit to make you a whore.”

“There never have been any intention in my heart to betray you, Führer . I am speaking with my soldierly honor and utmost honesty. You knew me.”

“You used to be my personal security, but that was in the past. I don’t think I know you anymore.”

True, the trust has been broken completely. Rommel holds loyalty to his country, but not to this angry mess in front of him. Not anymore.

The Führer’s bloodshot eyes darts around his neck: “where is your blue cross Pour le Merite? What is that thing on your chest?”

“It is Field Marshal's gold wire embroidered badge…” Rommel paused, “of the British Army.”

“so you are literally in bed with Bernard Montgomery. I mean, physically and who knows what else, Is that so?”

Rommel understands at this point, in Hitler’s eyes, it is further confirmation of high treason. This whole conversation is a demonstration of his political naivety.

“Who else knows about this... scandal? Does Von Rundstedt know? Your wife Lucy?” Hitler motions the slightly visible bump in Rommel’s belly. Rommel shivers in disgust. He feels exposed.

“My trustworthy chief of staff Alfred Gause does. No one else.”

“Gause runs a good staff. He does not keep a good eye on you for me, however.” Hitler coldly comments, “Does HE know? I mean, the other father.”

“I cannot confirm that.” Rommel whispers.

“I bet that Brit doesn’t speak even a little bit of German. You may as well fuck all day and not exchange a word.” The Führer’s voice is loaded with irony. Rommel falls into a grey silence, a hint of red flies onto his cheeks.

“Old friend,” Hitler changes his tone, a manipulator that he is, “I could still find it in me to forgive you, on one condition: you take a bite of one of these bitter medicines.”

Two black boxes, one contains a cyanide pill, the other an abortion tablet.

“Choose, it’s Führer’s order.”

Rommel chooses; hands steady, his gaze dark. The choices are cruel, but one of them allows him to not break his promise. He’s a man of duty, after all.

“Don’t you beg for mercy?”

“I obey your order, mein Führer.”

He leaves with the pill option. An SS officer escorts him outside.

Friend- Hehe I am satisfied with the historical accuracy.

Me-

#wwii germany #3rd reich #erwin rommel #desert fox #fanfic #bernard montgomery #omegaverse #there is no historical accuracy here thank you very much #wehrmachtblr

[lets-try-some-writing]

For your "secret of Primacy" Au! I'm wondering how exactly Megatron would visually and verbally react to fighting Optimus after learning the truth about him and to learning that Orion aka one of Megatron's oldest friend has been dead. and how the team handles it after Optimus is back to interacting with them? I hope this counts/works as a request? I'm not used to sending in requests.

This totally works a request, no worries. All I need is an idea of what you are asking for :) I have waited SO LONG for someone to express an interest in this particular AU of mine since its one of my favs. Can you tell I like hurting my blorbo? That said, here you go!!! Suffering and some degree of comfort!!!

Previous part here.

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙

Megatron was made aware of Optimus's nature by accident. For several weeks all he knew through Soundwave was that for whatever reason, the Autobots were suddenly treating their Prime far differently than they usually did. They were protective, taking hits for him more often, even dragging him around and very rarely allowing him onto a battlefield with them. His first instinct was of course to assume that his greatest foe had been injured or something of the like. Optimus's medic was notorious for getting anyone and everyone to obey when health was involved.

But that did not seem right, not when Megatron observed the Prime from a distance through Laserbeak.

On the rare event that he was out and about, Optimus stuck to Ratchet like glue more often than not. The Prime walked with confidence and then shrank in on himself rather sporadically. It almost seemed like he couldn't determine if he felt powerful or not. There were also several occasions where he was reported simply... wandering. Ratchet was there with him, but he seemed more like a tired guardian than anything else as Optimus meandered around different locations with engraving tools of all things. It was downright baffling to watch the Prime, leader of the Autobots, wander through forests with his medic before plopping down to engrave. It was strange enough to not even have Megatron bother to try and make a plan around the event. It had to be a trap. There was no way his old foe was casually enjoying nature and drawing as if he were a sparkling fresh out of the Well. At least that was what Megatron assumed until he finally felt like getting some sort of answer.

He had not planned it, but when he arrived to oversee the extraction of energon from a new mine, the Prime and his team were quick to arrive on scene. Immediately Megatron became acutely aware of the fact that the Autobots formation was off. Usually Optimus took to lead, serving as their heavy hitter and primary shield. Now though he was held back, hidden as much as a frame of his size could be, behind a wall of his fellow soldiers. The Prime never allowed his soldiers to guard him in such a manner, and it seemed he was thoroughly uncomfortable with it. He still readied himself for battle, but every time he attempted to step forward and reclaim his normal position, the scout was quick to hold him back. A sparkling protecting his Sire was not unheard of, but treating Optimus Prime of all mecha like a rookie? It confused Megatron, but it also gave him something to work with, a sore spot to prod at.

With his Vehicons quickly forcing the Autobots to space out a degree, Megatron flew into action, charging at his foe with every intention to use this seeming weakness to his advantage. If the Prime was injured, then all the better. He could eliminate him or injure him further. And if it were Optimus's mental state causing the issue, then Megatron was well equipped to make his life infinitely worse. However when his blade met Optimus's, there was something different in the Prime's optics. A strange emotion that Megatron had never witnessed before. Whatever was going on with Optimus made him falter, and that eventually gave Megatron the chance to knock him to the ground, ready to deal the killing blow.

He had no intent to actually bring down the blade, not when Optimus's mask retracted and fearful youthful optics gazed up at him. But of course even before he could call a retreat, Ratchet was on him in a nanoklik. The medic shoved him as much as a mech of smaller stature could and proceeded to stand above Optimus, his welder out and flaring. His field flew wide, filled with parental protectiveness of all things as he all but demanded Optimus flee.

Ratchet: GET OUT OF HERE!

Optimus: Ratchet-

Ratchet: MOVE IT!

Optimus: I cannot just leave you here-!

Arcee, moving to grab him: Sir, come on!

Bulkhead: We'll cover you! Get back to base!

Optimus: I will NOT leave you here to fight alone!

Ratchet: Take Bumblebee with you! I will not see sparklings die on my watch!

The medic seemed to immediately regret his words even as Optimus got up and moved, the scout tailing behind him. They vanished into their groundbridge and Megatron took to the skies, too baffled to care much for trying to slaughter the remaining Autobots. By the time they left, Megatron finally had the words click.

'Sparklings'

Ratchet used the designated glyph indicating that there were more than one. Considering Optimus and Bumblebee were the ones to flee, only half of the equation made sense. To imply that Optimus was a sparkling- it was an impossibility. Megatron knew Optimus long before he was Prime. There was no way he was secretly younger than at least a million vorns. And yet, the more he saw and the more he heard, the more suspicious he became. Megatron could not help but have Laserbeak follow Optimus on his outings, getting close enough to listen and hear what was being said. Was it a risk? Yes. But was it worth it? Megatron liked to think so when he finally caught enough information to leave him reeling.

It started off innocent, with Ratchet and Optimus in a field looking up at the stars. It was almost disgusting if not for the awe filled look on Optimus's face that did not fit his chiseled structure. But as time passed, the discussion was so strange and reality rocking that Megatron could hardly believe it.

Optimus: My Sire was named after some of these stars?

Ratchet: Yes. From what I gathered, Alpha Trion was rather fond of constellations and found Orion trying to eat some of his star maps of the ones from this sector of the galaxy.

Optimus: And that gave him his designation?

Ratchet: In part. There were other factors, but he did gain part of his designation from that incident.

Optimus: And how did you gain yours?

Ratchet: I threw the tool I am named after at one of my fellows as a newspark. The name stuck.

Optimus: What do you think my Sire would have called me if... if he were here to see me?

Ratchet: ...

Ratchet: I do not know. I was never very well tuned into Orion's mind. However, you two share a fondness for knowledge. I think he might have given you a name derived from his own.

Optimus: That is... somewhat comforting.

The command deck was totally silent on the Nemesis as Laserbeak's audio transferred back. Megatron replayed the clip over and over again, not fully believing that what was said truly occurred. Laserbeak had no been spotted, that much was certain. That meant that there was no way the Prime was acting to lay out some elaborate trap. What was being said had to be genuine, or at least believed to be genuine by one or both of the mecha involved. It was too outlandish to be real, but then again, the facts told Megatron all he needed to know.

Megatron spent the next few weeks embroiled in never ending questioning, so much so that he largely forgot to leave the Nemesis as he tried to determine if it was some elaborate scheme or not. But in the end, he and Soundwave agreed. They needed truth. He required answers from the source.

As such, Megatron waited until Optimus went on one of his wanderings, specifically the odd ones where he meandered alone. They were rare, but soon enough, Megatron took to the skies with the intent to meet his foe and figure out exactly what was going on. He couldn't have arrived at a better time when he landed and found Optimus weeping in the grass on an open field, too wrapped up in whatever emotions he was dealing with to even notice Megatron's arrival. A part of him wanted to blast the Prime then and there, but the EM field flowing toward him told of loss, grief, and the longing of a sparkling. It was too strange to not inspect.

Megatron: Prime, what in the pits are you doing?

Optimus: Megatron-!

Megatron: Peace Optimus. I mean you no harm this cycle... I merely want answers.

Optimus, wary and ready to flee: I will give you nothing that could harm my Autobots.

Megatron: I only want to know who you are.

Optimus: Who I am?

Megatron: That's right. I heard your recent conversations with your medic. You referred to yourself as though you were two beings, calling Orion Pax your 'Sire'. Why?

Optimus: I...

Megatron: Well?

Optimus: ...Did you really think the Council would ever allow a pawn they cannot control to roam freely? Orion was pure, perfect to lead. He was too good. And so they made me.

Megatron: So you are Orion's sparkling?

Optimus: In a sense. The Matrix takes those offered and tears them apart to forge a Prime. I am the product of Orion's offering. His sparkling in all but name.

Megatron: Then all this time-

Optimus: You fought a Prime. My Autobots treat me like a sparkling now that they know my origin. It is strange and I am not fond of being seen as weak, not when I have led my mecha to war since my creation.

Megatron: ...

Optimus: Orion Pax is dead, and I am his replacement. I have led our kind to war without thinking too deeply on it because it was what was required of me. Is that the answer you sought?

Megatron: I did not expect you to tell me everything.

Optimus: I have not told you everything. Only that which is important. But... I felt you should know. My Sire was once someone dear to you after all.

Shaken, Megatron could only stare in shock at the mech who he now knew to be a stranger. He could sense no lies in the Prime's words, nor was there any reason to lie. Optimus spoke the truth, and that hurt more than Megatron thought it would. He suspected it, but now he knew. Orion Pax was dead, and he would never be returning. Removing the Matrix would do nothing. Killing 'Optimus Prime' would do nothing. Orion was gone, and with him, any real connection to the mech sitting in the grass beside Megatron.

His spark panged with sorrow, but amidst it, a desire bloomed. Optimus was all that remained of Orion, and with the reveal of his nature, he revealed a weakness. He wanted some sort of parental care, that much was clear. If Megatron could offer that, he would not only secure an important ally, but also keep Orion's legacy safe. It was merely a bonus that his morals were indulged by caring for a sparkling as well.

A grin spread on his face as a plan formed, and within a klik, he extended a servo with an offer.

"Come back to the Nemesis with me. No harm will come to you. And there, we can talk. I will tell you of Orion if you in turn tell me more of our origin,"

#transformers #maccadam #transformers prime #optimus prime #team prime #ratchet #bumblebee #bulkhead #arcee #megatron #secret of the primacy au #megs over here getting his world SHOOK #but he knows how to use it to his advantage #grieving later #plotting now

[harleyshahas]

If you're taking requests - Blackice for the touch prompts? 👀

33. Tasting their smile Or 45. Feeling their temperature

(Or 58. "Forever Mine" kisses from the kiss list, I'm indecisive and like giving options lol)

(Also I (platonically) love you too ♡)

33. Tasting their smile for @gilly-moon

Jack's smile was always so bright, so welcoming, so warm.

Maybe that didn't really make sense for a creature of ice and snow, but he was warm. His eyes sparkled like the rising sun with his fun and mischief, and his smile was just as blinding.

It pissed Pitch off.

It pissed him off because he had watched Jack from the shadows, had seen that smile waver and fall, had seen those eyes grow hazy with tears that never fell, had seen the cloudy storm of emotions play out, and it was all just as beautiful. Jack's moods could affect his winter if he wasn't careful, and more often than not, especially in the beginning, Jack would forget this. He would bring his fun and snow, the children would play, but the moment a child walked through him that fun would shift, darken. Clouds would roll in, and what had once been a soft flurry perfect for sledding would grow and grow until fat flakes nearly blinded all who were caught in the blizzard. Parents were left confused, children fearful, and Pitch loved nearly every second of it.

But that damn smile always came back.

Even before Pitch attacked the Guardians he wanted to see that smile wiped off that pale face, wanted Jack to let loose with his power, watch the world be covered in ice. But instead he had to watch Jack prance around with those damned Guardians, had to watch as they took his best chance at reclaiming his power, had to watch as Jack smiled and laughed with them.

It made him sick.

Even now, after three years of quiet exile, he watched as Jack played with the children in the little town they shared, smiling and laughing and throwing snowballs. The kids here actually saw him, they played with him, going so far as to tackle him to the ground and pile snow on his head. Jack laughed all the while.

Pitch watched. He watched every day that Jack was around, tasting his deeply buried fears ofThis won't last andThe next time they'll walk through me like the rest andWhen will they leave?

Jack's fear continued to sustain him even after all these years. Pitch wasn't sure how he felt about that.

It wasn't until one day close to Christmas after a rather exciting snowball fight that Jack finally noticed him. The sun was setting, casting an orange and fiery glow to the snow and Pitch marveled at the way it didn't melt. The children said their good-byes to Jack as their parents called them home, all of them giving the winter spirit a hug as Jack gave them a near teary smile. As the last one left, the boy who had stood against Pitch that fateful Easter weekend, Pitch had sneered, his low growl echoing in the following silence. Jack whirled around.

He saw Pitch at the base of a nearby oak tree, Pitch contemplating briefly if he should run, but he decided against it. This confrontation had to happen sooner or later, so why not sooner? With that in mind, he stepped out of the shadows, crossing his arms as he leant against the tree.

Jack's eyes were wide as he stared at him, mouth dropping open slightly.

Pitch smirked. "What's the matter, Jack? The rabbit got your tongue?"

The younger spirit shook his head, but his eyes remained wide. "You're alive..."

Pitch snorted. "Course I'm alive. It takes more than some Nightmares to kill me. Did you really think you'd seen the last of me?"

"No - I didn't..." Jack trailed off. His staff was held loose in his hands in his shock.

"Fear is a powerful thing, Jack," Pitch continued. "If left to itself, it grows and festers. It survives."

"Is that what you do?" Jack asked. His bright eyes cleared, his brow rose, but still he did not raise his staff. He took a step towards Pitch.

"It's what I've always done," Pitch stated quietly. He watched as Jack came to a stop barely three feet from him, watched as Jack watched him. "There will always be fear, therefore there will always be me. I didn't lie about that."

Jack's brow furrowed and his grip finally tightened on his staff. Pitch did not move. "Then what did you lie about?"

"What use did I have in lying?" Pitch said. He pushed off the tree, Jack tensed his grip, but the Boogieman only placed his hands behind his back, gripping one wrist with the other hand as he brushed past the small spirit. "I laid all my cards on the table that day and everything I said, everything I offered, was true. It's your choice to believe it."

"Choice..." Jack muttered. Pitch glanced over his shoulder. Jack stared down at the snow with a bitter twist to his lips. "You chose to attack the Guardians, the kids, even if you can never fade away?"

"What use is living if you can't share your life with someone?" Pitch watched as Jack's head jerked up, staring at him once more with wide eyes and mouth open. Pitch took a step to half turn to him.

"Family..." Jack whispered near brokenly and Pitch could only nod.

"I definitely didn't lie about that."

Silence fell over them. Jack watched him with that heartaching expression, his eyes hazy with tears that could not fall, and Pitch didn't comment on it. He stared down at Jack, gripping his wrist so tight his nails were starting to break through his skin.

Jack was... achingly beautiful, even in his melancholy. He had seen the rage, the bitter anger and resentment, the fearful turmoil, every time those bright eyes looked at him back then, and every time he was so, so beautiful. All the love and light and laughter was meant for everyone else, but this, Jack's most deeply buried feelings, all the ugly faces he wouldn't dare show the children, those were meant for him.

Pitch turned away. Something bitter and vile was clawing up his throat, his nails digging into his skin. Shadows roiled around him, the darkening night darkening further.

He didn't want those ugly feelings. But he did deserve them.

He took a step away, the nearest shadow wrapping around his foot as he prepared to return to his lair.

"Hey, wait a minute!"

Pitch stopped. Jack darted forward on the wind, stepping down just in front of him. He chewed his lower lip between his teeth, something shining in his eyes Pitch had never seen before, not to him.

"What?" he asked. Pitch wasn't sure if he sounded tired... or confused.

Jack chewed his lip some more. His grip tightened and loosened on his staff. "Do you wanna... I don't know, have some fun?"

More silence was swallowed up by the snow around them.

"What?" Pitch was definitely confused.

Jack snorted lightly, covering his mouth. Pitch blinked down at him. "Sorry! I mean, you just... seem like you could use some fun in your life, I guess." His eyes were sparkling in a way they never had before at Pitch.

Pitch loosened his grip on his wrist. "I think your idea and my idea of fun are two very different things, Jack Frost."

Jack was definitely grinning behind his hand. "Maybe, but I think there's a way we can meet in the middle. There's a Christmas horror movie playing at the local theater." His hand dropped and his grin was mischievous. He looked up at Pitch from under his lashes. "Wanna help me scare some humans?"

The smile that tugged at Pitch's lips was slow, menacing, and positively delighted. He bowed with a flourish, holding a hand out dramatically. "Lead the way."

Jack laughed and hopped in the air, Pitch followed from the shadows. He was led to a cinema, popping up from the shadows behind a small crowd of humans already in their seats and waiting for the show to start. Jack landed next to him. He gestured to the back row where no one was sitting, and Pitch followed him. From there, they had a decent view of the movie goers. The audience was silent with anticipation, the title card played, and the tension was palpable.

Jack leaned in close to him, as if anyone could hear him, and Pitch indulged him, leaning down to meet him. "Wait for my signal," was all he said. Pitch nodded, then sat back to enjoy the show.

The first five to ten minutes of the movie took place indoors, but any time a character stepped outside Jack would tap his staff to the floor. The temperature in the theater dropped, and the audience visibly shivered. Some looked around themselves, their nerves lighting up and Pitch breathed it all in. Pitch caught on quickly, his shadows roiling in the dark corners of the theater everytime a character entered a dark room. Tension rose as the humans muttered amongst themselves. One even pointed at his shadows.

As the movie went on, Jack worked a breeze through the room. Someone yelped. At another point, Pitch encouraged his shadows to dance at peoples feet. More than one person jumped. At the next jump scare, a shadow tugged on a woman's hair and she screamed. The rest of the audience jumped and the tension had reached the ceiling by the time the third act had started.

Jack was shaking in his seat. Pitch glanced over, worried for half a second that this wasn't actually what he'd had in mind, that he had messed this up somehow, that he was scaring Jack away.

To his absolute shock, Jack was laughing. He was laughing so hard he was shaking, near doubled over with a hand clamped over his mouth. Delighted tears clung to his lashes and his feet practically stamped the floor through his giggles. A smile twitched at Pitch's lips.

Jack had never laughed for him before.

He leaned down. "Ready for the big finish?" he whispered against a pale ear, his voice husky with the power he had fed on, and maybe with something else he didn't want to name just yet. Jack looked up at him with shining blue eyes, sparkling like the sun on a chilly winter morning, hand still clamped over his mouth as he nodded vigorously. Pitch smirked back. "Then watch the master at work," he preened.

He instructed the shadows to calm a little, relegating them back to the corners. The audience seemed to calm with them, the tension still high, but enough to make them relax and enjoy the final moments of the movie. As they watched, Pitch moved his shadows out of their sight, snaking them up through the aisles to wait at unsuspecting feet. Pitch lifted a finger, tapping Jack's staff and Jack got the hint, providing a final chilly breeze that immediately had the audience on edge. Anticipation was thick.

And then, as the music swelled and the killer was revealed, the hero screamed and the audience screamed with him as shadows brushed against revealed skin, pulling on hair and brushing against cheeks and hands, tugging feet and poking their backs sharply. Pitch cackled as someone broke down into sobs.

As the credits rolled, the humans cheered, clapping and laughing and crying in equal measure. Pitch shadow traveled to the front of the room, standing before the humans on a pedestal of shadows, and taking a low bow. When he looked up, not a one of them was looking at him, and he expected that, and he expected the hurt that inevitably came with it, but he did not feel it. Instead, he felt warmth as there in the back, perched upon the tip of his staff, was Jack Frost, clapping wildly along with the audience and smiling that blindingly bright smile right down at him.

Jack had never smiled at him like that.

But there he was, clapping and cheering and smiling just for him and Pitch felt warmth fill his insides, felt a lump lodge in his throat. He looked away as the audience left, followed them out quickly through the shadows. Jack joined him not too long after.

"That was amazing!" the younger man cheered excitedly. "That was so cool, I've never been able to get a reaction like that! I can usually get a few shivers and some laughs, but man! I've never gotten them to scream like that! You have to teach me how to do that! How do you know how to time it so well? I've seen that movie like five times now and I still can't get it right, but you - that... that was awesome!" Jack continued to ramble, arms waving wildly as he gestured back to the theater, to Pitch, to the humans who walked by still gushing about their experience. His smile was so bright, so welcoming, so warm, and Pitch couldn't stop himself from leaning down, from tasting that warm cold with the barest brush of lips against the corner of Jack's mouth.

Jack froze.

Pitch pulled away. He looked down at Jack with a softness he hadn't felt in eons, smiling gently down at the now wide eyes gazing back at him. "I had... fun, Jack," Pitch muttered. "I'd love to do this again sometime. If you'd like."

Jack swallowed, his throat visibly bobbing with the action and Pitch wanted to taste that too. "Um... okay... Yeah, we should - we should definitely do this again..." He smiled again, slowly, softer this time, his cheeks flushing a pale purple. "Thanks, Pitch..."

Pitch smiled back. "Anytime, Jack. See you around." And then he sunk into shadow.

From a darkened alley nearby, he watched as Jack stood there a moment longer. The boy reached up, pressing his fingers to his lips. Another smile tugged at them slowly, bright and happy, and he laughed in a way Pitch had never heard him laugh before. It was gentle. It was shy. There was a joy in it that didn't come from snowball fights and sledding with children or from spending time with the Guardians. Pitch smiled.

That was his laugh. That laugh was for Pitch and for Pitch alone.

And he couldn't wait to find out what it tasted like.

---

I've never done a prompt like this before so I hope I did it right!! Thank you for the ask, you're always so good to me so I hope you like it!!

I am accepting title ideas!

#I'll edit it later #needs a title so i can post on tumblr #my writing #harley writes #blackice #rotg #jack frost #pitch black #fic #kozmotis pitchiner #not a wip look at that #rise of the guardians

[fromforeigntofamiliarity]

can you plsss make a part 2 to the Tommy x daughter when she got kidnapped fhgdyjhdd sorry, you don’t have to I just thought it was really well written ^^

Summary: Part One

Warning: PTSD

Requested: Yes.

Taglist 🏷: @literishdegree99 @kittycatcait219 @oppile91 @unknowntoyou2205 @naxxsstuff @katherinemelissa @faatxma @skinmittensgoblin @bmh-mjh-bitchessss

The Taglist are just of the people who asked for a part two if you would like to be untagged you can let me know.

"Alright that's all, please feel free to continue about your days." Tommy said as the family meeting was coming to an end.

Y/N Shelby sat in a chair back pressed against the large book shelf that stood opposite the door. 

"I have something I'd like to say." She announced as everyone began to exit. "Something I need to say." She clarified.

Freezing in their tracks they all stop to look at the young girl before looking over to her father to see his reaction. Tommy took a few moments to also assesse his daughter before taking a seat back at his desk prompting everyone to reclaim their seats. 

"And what is it that you would like to say?" Tommy asked pulling out a cigarette from his jacked pocket and lighting a flame. 

"I've decided to leave." Y/N announced her eyes scanning over the different reaction of her family. "I'm gonna be moving out next week and my stuff will be gone by the end of the month." 

The room was eerily silent as the family knew that in situation that concerned Y/N and Tommy it was best to stay quiet but present incase thing were to get out of hand. 

Keeping his eyes on this daughter, Tommy let out a sigh before removing the cigarett from his mouth setting it on his desk along side the lighter.

"Moving out?" Tommy asked the 15 year old making sure he had heard her right. "And who exactly do you plan to do that?" 

Y/N watched as he interlocked his fingers and leaned forward on the desk, at least he was taking her seriously. 

"I'm going to move in with my mum." She answered adjusting her posture as she struggles to hold his gaze. "I've been in contact with her and she invited me to come live with her." 

"And how, may I ask, did you get in contact with your mother?" 

"No."

"No?"

"You may not ask." Y/N stated knowing that anyone involved in helping her would pay a price heavier than their 'crime'. Tommy scoffed maybe he would find this situation amusing if not for the context. 

"So you, through unknown means, were able to contact the woman who dropped you off to our doorstep and disappeared without a trace and now fifteen years later expect me to allow you to just fuck off with her to god knows where?" Tommy summarized. "And you're running off with a stranger on the promises of lollipops and rainbows, does she even have a place for you to stay?"

"She was young back then, she couldn't raise a child on her own." 

"I was young too, but I took care of you because you were mine." Tommy countered. "While she was too irresponsible to take care of her own child."

"She's different now, she married to a nice man...." Y/N defended her mother. "I've got sibling...they all live in London in a nice house." 

"And how do you know any of this is true?" Tommy asked rubbing his hand across his forehead in frustration. "She could be telling you anything to get you to London." 

"I know cause I've seen it. I've been there. met them." She confessed angrily looking to her father for insinuating she was some stupid child clinging to word with nothing to back it up. "I went to meet her last month, the week I was gone."

"Last month?" Tommy asked standing from his seat coming around to lean on the side of the desk facing her full on arms folded across his chest. "When you told me you were going to visit your friend Olivia? Though I suspect she doesn't exist." 

"She's one of my sisters." She clarified avoiding eye contact for a few moments before looking back to her father's face. "I spent time with them. My stepdad is a nice man, he's a banker, he treated me nice. When mom said she wanted me to live with them he said he wouldn't mind." 

"A banker? and what is they call him?" Tommy asked reaching back over to the desk to retrieve his cigarette and lighter. Y/N was hesitant at first but know he would find out sooner or later.

"Anthony Crestwood." She sighed.

"Right, Isaiah." 

"Yeah Tom?"

"I need you to get the address of the the Crestwood family, I'd like to have a call with Mr. Crestwood and his wife." He informed the young blinder never looking away from Y/N.

"Your going to call them?" Y/N asked only slightly confused seeing as he had every right to want to speak to the couple who would be housing his daughter. 

"Yes. Yes I am." Tommy answered lighting the cigarette between his lips. "And I will be informing the Crestwood family that upon their arrival to Arrow House in an attempt to remove my child there should be no doubt in there minds that at that exact moment their home will be burning to the ground." Taking a drag of the nicotine he watched as his daughter eyes widened in disbelief as she stood from her seat. 

"You can't do that." 

"I can." Tommy replied. "I can and  I will but not if you don't make me. It's time you learned action have consequences" He said pointing at her with the cigarette between his fingers. 

"So this is how it's going to be?" She asked. "You don't care about be so that means that no one else can?" 

"I care for you, you know what I do but you have chosen to forget that in the wake of one mistake." Tommy shouted

"'It's time you've learned your actions have consequences' or does that not apply to you, just everyone else?"

"So this is a 'consequence' an attempt for you to punish me for how I've wronged you." Tommy accused.

"God are you kidding- No!" Y/N shouted. "This is an attempt to free myself. this is an attempt to not have nightmares every time I close my eyes because for the last few months that all it ever is! Because every time I look at your face the only thing I can see is that man laughing and telling my that my father didn't give a damn about me and believing him because I had no prove to say otherwise.  

I've tried to forgive you, you have no idea how badly I want to. How badly I want to run to you like when I was younger and think that you'd never let anything hurt me, that the worries of the world don't exist inside the comfort of your arms but I can't.

So no Tomas...I'm not doing this to you, I'm doing this for me."  

The two stood there both looking into each other's eyes it was only then that Tommy truly saw how broken his daughter was on the inside and Y/N saw how desperate her father was to keep her. 

"I fucked up. I know I fucked up but you have to see that I am trying." Tommy admitted. "That I can't make this better if you run away." 

"I know you are...but I can't get better if I stay."  

"..."

#masterlist #peaky blinder x reader #sweet pea imagine #peaky blinders request #shelby!reader #tommy shelby imagine #daughter!reader #tommy shelby!daughter #tommy shelby

[whitemancumslut]

WARNINGS! Mean!Dom!Harry, Petnames (Doll, Whore, Slut, Puppy etc…), Sub!Reader, Reader has a thigh tattoo, Not actual smut

"i'm in here!" You called out.

"It's just me, love," You heard the lovely deep accented voice behind the door and a smile grew on your face when you swung it open.

Seeing Harry leaned up against the exterior with the naughtiest smirk known to man.

"Well, what are you wearing, my sweet puppy?" Just right when he said, "Puppy," your stomach started doing backflips. You couldn't explain it but the rasp and pur in his voice always made your pussy ache. He grinned devilishly before expectedly pushing himself against you and closing the bathroom door.

"Harry, he's here," You mumbled as you continued to press a long awaited kiss on to his lips.

"No he's not." He chuckled against your lips. " sent his ass outta here," He grinned and chuckled deeply, once again. "Along with his bitch, Chris."

"No," You mumbled once again as he kissed you. Trying not to laugh at his name calling, you pulled away and spoke again, "I just checked his location. He's pulling up to the house right now." Harry cursed out loud.

"Well, shit. Them little bitches didn't waste a second, huh?"

You mirrored his grin pressing your lips against his letting him tilt you side to side.

Unable to put on a worried act you smiled into the kiss. "Looking really good tonight," You told him sweetly. He had a white dress shirt on, slightly unbuttoned at the top revealing his tatted chest. His sleeves rolled up and long hair to the side like he was about to propose a drug deal.

"I look pretty good? Oh sweetheart, you know what you are doing." He roared lowly. "Let's not dance round it," He said tilting his head to tease you.

"Walking in with Jay all over you tonight, hmm? Having him press himself against you. Is that what you like?" His eyes grew darker as he didn't even care to get an answer out of you. You whimpered when he roughly manhandled you and turned you to face the mirror.

You felt so small in front of him. Especially looking at him through the reflection. He wasn't trying to make eye contact with you, his eyes were trained on your body. He pressed his hips against your back and put his large palm on your tummy. Pushing you against him, wanting you as close as possible.

He rested his chin on your shoulder, slightly hurt your muscle but you were too interested in whatever he was finna do to care. He kept his chin in place and looked up through his long lengthen lashes to you in the mirror.

Softly sniffing your scent of A Thousand Wishes, as you do him. His eyes were piercing into yours making you wanna bust right there if you could.

"Ye' see... These pretty things," He dragged his fingertip around, tracing the cup of your large breast. His fingertips lighting you up like a million suns. "Mine," He claimed. You slumped up against his body allowing him to claim you once again. If Harry felt he hadn't seen you in so long (so long equalling two days or longer), and as usual, a cloud of jealousy would float over his head, he'll feel the need to repeat and reclaim what's his. You did not mind a little reminder every now and then, even if you didn't need it.

"Understand that, Love?" His green orbs inky and becoming almost haunting as he stared you up and down through the mirror. His accent and tone of voice sending butterflies in your tummy whilst still being mesmerized by the large tatted hands roaming your body, didnt even noticed when they flattened against the both of your boobs and his fingers clenched as he groped you harshly.

"Argh!" A sharp gasp left your mouth, dramatically leaning back in his arms, your head falling on his shoulder. He released his grip pinching your clothed nipples letting his hands fall down to your stomach. Harry placed his chin on your temple, allowing some force onto you, he pushed your head back so you can face the mirror with your obedience under his touch.

"I said," He tightened his force on your stomach by pushing down. Your insides turning like machinery and eyes squeezing shut before looking back at him through the reflection. "Do you understand?"

"Mhm, mhm, mhm.," You hummed, still caught in the moment, swarming like someone under arrest. You were gone. It's like Harry was a drug and you were feigning for him. It was an indescribable feeling, words couldn't explain the hold he had on you. All it took was two minutes to get you to melt.

"Words.

"Y-yes I understand. Yes, all yours."

"These.," His hands moved down to your thick thighs. Harry loved your thighs. He loved the tattoo you had going down your thigh from your hip, seeing it made him jump.

He roughly pinched your thigh meat tugging at the permanent ink on your skin. You scrunched your face up to the stinging pain and your eyes flicked down to your thighs in the mirror.

You winced to the small sting of pain he gave you when he slapped your skin. Right on the tattoo, he lightly scratched like a cat.

"They are practically on display for everyone to see. Don't you think, Lovey?" Ducking his head down to your ear lobe to place a soft kiss against your bone. Soon taking your ear lobe between his teeth and tugging lightly.

"Y-yeah."

He tuts pulling away. "I just don't understand why you'd put what's mine out on display for everyone to see," He teased.

You groaned, eager for him to touch you more and continue reclaiming what's his.

"O-o-oh!" He chuckle deeply pushing you away but his hands still on your waist. "Dont even get me started on this ass of yours." He quickly spun you around so you were facing him. But his eyes were on your back's reflection. Sliding his large hands under the skirt of your dress, letting them land on your ass cheeks, feeling your bare ass. Lifting the smirk up so he can see all of it.

When you turn your head to see what he was doing, you see he pulled up your skirt to see your ass. You blinked and he pulled his hand back slapped it against your ass. "Argh, Harry!" You screeched out. Squeezing your ass meat not letting the sting linger enough, making his mark. Harry shook the meat in his hand, digging his nails into you. You scrunched your face up enjoying the pain and the sensation he was giving you.

"Shush, shush," He told you quietly.

He brought his mouth down to your ear, still holding on to your skin on your bum but lighter, "Is there a good explanation for why your dressed like such a slut tonight, huh?Wanted everyone eye-fucking you tonight, huh?" His was still low and raspy making your mind go completely foggy. “Is that what it is? You being an attention whore?”

He pulled back to look you in the eye to see he had you wrapped around his finger. Your eyes were low, mouth agape like you wanted to say something. You looked like you were high up in the clouds. "Puppyyy," His voice dropped at least five notches with a slight huskiness to it.

You could feel your pussy clench around nothing, debating to lookup at at him or not.

Your still recovering from the harsh slap to your skin, slumped with his palms keeping you steady resting on your waist. He looked down at you like his eyes awaiting your answering but also filled with dominance and forcing you to opening your mouth and spit out the words he's wanting to hear.

He could see your lust filled eyes when you decided to make eye contact. He smirked knowing that you were staggering under his touch, his words making your insides move around like a game of checkers.

His head came down to yours, nudging you aside carefully placing his lips upon your neck.

"What's the reason, baby?" He cooed at you.

You whined to him, pressing your nails into his broad shoulders. "| wanna know what or who... got you dressing this way." Harry knew the answer. He knew she dressed like this just for him. He knew there was no way in hell, she dressed like this because of Jay.

Jay. The man who was probably walking around for both Harry and his girlfriend. But the thought of you two together in the bathroom didn't even cross his mind.

It took you a while but you brought your chest up, your breast slightly pushing against his chest, giving him a breathy and whiny response, "It's you, H. I dressed like a slut for you," You moaned out. "All for you."

Harry grinned against your neck making you whimper. "Please," You breathed out.

Harry pulled away realizing that she was in deep into the moment and her boyfriend had to be back by now, wondering where she was.

Not that Harry cared. Harry would literally fuck her with her boyfriend in the room next to them. But he wanted to make her wait.

"Alright, Pup. Come on," He released the hold on your waist and cupped your face with both of his hands. Your cheeks were pushed up as he tried to get you straight. Your pupils dilated and filled with desperation and lust, he sighed.

"You're going to get yourself together, come out a couple of minutes after me, greet your prick of a boyfriend, and I'll see you back at your place," He planned out the night in front of you but you were so dizzy and horny it was all muffled.

"You can't fuck me here, right now?" You whined, ignoring his orders, gripping onto his white dress shirt and pulling him towards you.

Harry kept his composure trying not to just bend you over here and forget his plan, he then tsk'd at you. "No, and you wanna know why the answers no, darling?"

"Is it because Jay is right outside? You're scared he'll-" You barked and Harry's face filled with disbelief of your remark and he immediately got the wave of jealousy mixed with anger.

"No," He immediately shut you up gripping your wrist. "This has nothing to do with Jay." He barked back. "It's because you decided to show up and dress like a slut to get me all riled up. Teasing me all night- You think I give a shit if Jay hears, sees, knows I'm fucking you? I think he’ll love the fact his precious, sweet Y/n is acting and dressing like a whore for me?” Your thighs were aching, wanting them to be on the sides of his hips while he fucked you on the sink until you were seeing stars. But your imagination stopped when Harry continued.

"Shit! Let the whole house know! I couldn't give a shit. But now, I have to punish you. Can't properly do that when in a tight space like this can we, Doll?"

You whimpered and shook your head.

"This," He said, tugging at your dress, "Should be off by the time you step foot in that house. Understood?"

#harry styles #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #dom!harry #sub!harry #subbry #harry styles hot #harry styles x y/n #domrry #sub!harry x dom!reader #dom!harry x sub!reader #harrys house #harry headcanons

[bisexualbuckleyy]

🐚🥤🍄

thank you so much for the ask!!

🐚: do you like or dislike surprises?

in general, yes! tbh it's been my dream for a long time to have someone throw me a surprise birthday party cause i feel like it would be so awesome. i think surprises can be such a fun way to show that you love and understand someone, but i also think it's super important to make sure that you're respecting people's boundaries when planning surprises. in reading fic, i always love a good plot twist, as long as it's not an untagged major character death or something massively triggering.

🥤: recommend an author or fanfic you love

i literally have over 1200 fics bookmarked so it's so hard for me to pick even a couple fics to recommend so i'm just gonna recommend some of my favorite authors. for thiam, my absolute favorite is @eneiryu, who writes the most beautiful incredible post canon fics i've ever read in my life and has written genuinely some of my favorite fics of all time. also for thiam, but with some really good merlin fics too, is @istalria. if you haven't read their thiam brainrot series, do it right now. @attempted--eloquence writes the most beautiful and poetic shit i've ever read in my life, i have in fact literally cried reading more than one of their fics. also thiam: @theoceanismyinkwell, @raekensarcher, @inabottlelikelightning, @chasing-chimeras, @honeyscapes, and @fallingforboys are all absolutely incredible. also to round out the rest of my most-read ships, for firstprince i 100% recommend @clottedcreamfudge, @kiwiana-writes, @hypnostheory, and @railmedaddy (who also writes amazing schitt's creek and 911LS stuff!) a recent fave of mine has also been @sighonaraa who writes the literal best ted lasso fics EVER

🍄: share a headcanon for one of your favorite ships

okay one of my main headcanons for thiam (obviously, since i literally wrote an entire fic about it) is that in the elevator scene, theo heard liam's heart skip when he said he wouldn't die for him, so he fully knew he was lying but didn't say anything because he knew it wasn't the right time. totally different ship, but i also headcanon that alex and henry get tattoos in each other's handwriting post canon, probably of their favorite lines from one of the emails or a line of poetry they both love as a way of reclaiming something that was stolen from them

#ask me stuff #asks #ask game #ask games #writing asks

[aeonophagic]

I'm really glad you enjoyed these! the translator is actually user 17979 on here, they've written some really good After God fanfics and are a good friend of mine! the other parts they've translated are: original: "His soul seemed to have left his body. He was unfettered. There was no fear or panic. He felt nothing."

original: "It does not matter. They are one and the same. I need his power. I underestimated him."

and this one is more just a funny one from our treasured translator:

I'll have you know I had about the same reaction to the "You are the story I started 50.000 years ago" line, it just brings up so many questions; VA's lore is scattered as it is and very little is given to us, so just dropping something like this in a convo I doubt a lot of people have read is so [vague hand gestures] it's quite late at night when I'm writing this so forgive any incomprehensibility: the line itself, combined with some others there ("It's tone was surprisingly laden with grief, as if it was lamenting a past that could not return") read to me as slightly contrary to VA being merely a Divine Key, it sounds like he has an amount of history in the PE; my personal idea that is pure unadulterated speculation is that VA might have started out as just a person who had something to do with the PE HoR? it would explain the fact that he repeatedly speaks to a "you" which is clearly not actually Joey in this convo and doesn't seem to be Welt Joyce either considering the 50k years thing, that is to say maybe VA even inherited the core (woo Welt paralel) of the PE HoR; considering that Vill-V does say that the Core of Reason is fucking weird [paraphrasing] and, at least if my memory is holding up, Welt did retreat into the Herrscher Core at least once to avoid dying, there's nothing saying VA couldn't have also pulled that and ended up getting his ass merged with that Fragment of Prommy and turned into the only DK we know to be sentient, I dunno I'm sleep deprived that being said the 3rd line I sent last time would imply that VA was also like not human if all of this happened... I'll just say he yoinked a body Orokapi style and call it a day cuz I think if I keep trying to get these thoughts down on paper they will actually become complete word vomit [thumbs up emoji] anyhow the ramble section ended up being longer than I intended... but the fact that we really know so little of his lore does make my brain go haywire, if they ever explain Void Archives' lore properly that'll probably all be disproven but it's what I came up with considering what we know (and I remember)

“There was no more gravity that bound him to the mortal world” I think this one is in reference to Void Archives likely using the Fenghuang Down… ouuu

I definitely think the PE Herrschers besides Elysia all being nothing more than the names of said Herrschers in the story is one of the things that blocks my road here. Me and a friend have theorised plenty of things about the PE HoR, but none can be confirmed, none are even implied!!! A character with such a nothingburger that you can just make shit up and no one could tell you yes or no. My favorite theory is that the PE HoR looked just like Otto, but a girl. Because it’s funny. But now I don’t know… I can’t sacrifice my integrity for humor… I think the idea of the person that used to be what later became Void Archives was a part of the HoR core is really interesting. It would take from the whole “artificial thing struggles with humanity”, because then they’d have already been human once, but at the same time it would be as if they were reclaiming their humanity which is also intriguing etc etc… it’s really interesting. I initially thought Void Archives’ sentience came from them being part Prometheus since she’s sentient too, but at the same time why would Vill-V merge them with her then..? Because Prometheus is an AI so she can handle the “ever expanding knowledge”? Don’t know… so much left in the air, most Void Archives lore we know is stitched together thanks to No.17 who hasn’t talked about them even once. Thank you for sharing!!! I’m having lots of thoughts…

#rajatalk #void archives #hi3

[delusionalwriter02]

The lovers that went wrong

Dazai x Chuuya / Angst / Dancing / I'm crying okay / Happy Ending

a/n : Please listen to "Youth" by Daughter while reading this, I wrote it listening to this song and it broke me even more

Chuuya's POV

I had returned to this now abandoned manor. The manor where we once lived happily with Dazai. Before everything exploded, before life left me burning with anger, burning to have had happiness between my fingers. Before, the house sang to itself, music accompanied us constantly, from sunrise to sunset, from tears to laughter, from dance to love to betrayal. I had come back to remember, perhaps to hurt myself even more than I already had. Nostalgia is the worst feeling of all.

I feel my heart sank as I remembered our last dance, a waltz. In the same room with the same radio. The same night Dazai fled, without a word. Today, I left him a message, an address, one that Dazai couldn't have forgotten, our house. I need to know, to understand, I can't let my heart bleed any longer.

Dazai's POV

I pushed open the gate, the hinges groaning in protest. The garden was overgrown, weeds reclaiming the space where once flowers had bloomed. Stepping onto the front porch, I paused, unsure of what awaited me inside.

With a deep breath, I pushed open the front door, the hinges squealing in protest. The interior was dimly lit, illuminated only by the faint moonlight filtering through dusty windows. My heart raced as I ventured further into the house, my footsteps echoing in the silence.

And there I saw him, Chuuya standing in the center of the living room, his gaze fixed on me with maybe a mixture of anticipation and apprehension.

"Dazai," Chuuya's voice was barely a whisper, yet it still echoed through the empty space between us.

My breath caught in my throat at the sight of my once, lover. "Chuuya," I replied.

Chuuya took a step forward, the shadows playing across his face. "Thank you for coming".

I studied Chuuya's features, seeing the face I used to kiss for hours. "You left a note," I began,"What is this about" ?

Chuuya hesitated, his eyes never leaving mine. "I needed to see you," he admitted.

My heart clenched. "Why now, why here ?"

Our gaze met, his eyes shimmering with tears. "Because this was where we were happy," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

I felt a pang in my chest.

"I needed to see you, Dazai," Chuuya continued, "To understand why you left."

I lowered his gaze. "My life in the mafia came to an end," I slowly began, the truth finally spilling from my lips. "I thought it was best to disappear."

Chuuya's eyes widened in disbelief, the hurt evident in his expression. "Disappear? Without a word ? Without even saying goodbye?"

I closed my eyes, I can't bear to look at him "I know I'm a bastard for leaving you like that," I finally admitted.

Chuuya's gaze was as hard as stone, "You could have told me."

"I thought it was for the best," I confessed, voice tinged with remorse. "I didn't want you to be dragged into my mess."

Chuuya reached out, his hand hovering between us. "You don't get to decide that for me," he said, his voice firm yet tinged with hurt.

I swallowed hard. "I know," I murmured, voice barely audible.

3rd POV

Chuuya's eyes bore into Dazai's, his gaze forever searching for answers. "Dazai," he began, his voice softer, "Do you want to dance one last time?"

Dazai's expression softened, he hesitated for a moment before nodding silently, his eyes never leaving Chuuya's.

Chuuya extended his hand, an invitation that carried the weight of a thousand final goodbyes. He accepted, their fingers intertwining like old friends reuniting after a lifetime apart.

They moved to the center of the ballroom, the faded grandeur of the space as a silent witness to their dance of farewell. Chuuya took the lead, guiding Dazai into the first steps of the waltz, the dance they had once known so intimately.

The distance between them seemed to melt away as they moved in perfect synchrony, their bodies silently speaking. Chuuya's touch was gentle yet tinged with sorrow.

Dazai's eyes never left Chuuya's. The walls they had built around their hearts began to crumble. Dazai's grip tightened slightly, as if trying to anchor himself in a moment that was slipping away.

"I miss this," Dazai whispered, his breath warm against Chuuya's ear.

Chuuya's heart clenched at the raw honesty in his past lover's words, the longing echoing in the hollows of the abandoned ballroom. "I miss you," he confessed, his voice barely a whisper.

The music played in their head swelled, enveloping them in a melancholic embrace. Chuuya closed his eyes, allowing himself to be swept away by the tidal wave of emotions that threatened to consume him.

"And if you're still breathing, you're the lucky ones," the lyrics resonated within Chuuya's very soul. Why couldn't he be happy ? Just happy. He didn't ask for much. Simply happiness.

Dazai pulled Chuuya closer, their bodies pressed together. "I'm sorry," he murmured, his voice barely audible.

Chuuya's eyes brimmed with tears, the pain resurfacing like a storm surge. "Why did you leave?" he asked, his voice trembling with emotion.

Dazai's embrace tightened, as if seeking refuge in Chuuya's warmth. "I thought it was the only way," he confessed, voice laced with regret. "But I was wrong."

Their dance slowed, Chuuya traced the curve of Dazai's jawline, committing every detail to memory, the feel of his touch, the warmth of his embrace.

"I never stopped loving you, Chuuya," said Dazai, his hands caressing the Chuuya's back "But I understand if you can't forgive me."

Chuuya met Dazai's gaze, "I don't know if I can," he admitted.

Dazai exhaled slowly, his gaze unwavering. "I don't expect you to".

As they danced, the walls of the ballroom seemed to echo with their regrets, their hearts beating in sync with the melancholic melody. Chuuya clung to Dazai as if trying to hold onto a fading dream, their bodies moving as one, despite the chasm that had grown between them.

Dazai pulled away slightly, his eyes searching Chuuya's face. "Can I kiss you ?" he asked, his voice tinged with desperation.

Chuuya pulled him closer, "Please, do."

Dazai placed his lips gently on Chuuya's. The world could have been burning and they wouldn't have noticed. Their hands lost themselves in each other's backs and necks, the tender kiss transformed into a battle of sadness and regret. They showed themselves vulnerable, for one night, one last dance.

Life never left them alone, they never rested, they just survived in a world that never wanted them.

But the sun came out again the day they saw the shard in each other. The shadow that would hide the horror of their lives. The world didn't want them, but they wanted each other.

Chuuya gripped Dazai's collar and brought his mouth close to his ear. "Come back. Don't let them win." Chuuya finally let his tears fall, something he had promised himself he would never do again. "Don't let me regret this life, if you still have even a little love for me, don't let me drown."

Dazai nestled his face in Chuuya's neck, "I never stopped loving you. But I won't go back to the Mafia, I promised Oda I'd become a better man.

"I'm not asking you to return to the Mafia. I'm asking you to come back into my life, not as an enemy but as the man who made me live."

"I believe I can do that."

I hope you liked it ? I love this couple but I fear in this one-shot they are a bit out of character buuuuuuttttt I really loved writing this

#fanfic #fanfiction #bsd #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs #bsd dazai #bungou stray dogs dazai #dazai bsd #dazai osamu #chuuya nakahara #dazai x chuuya #nakahara chuuya #chuuya #chuuya x dazai #bsd chuuya #bungou stray dogs chuuya #dazai #skk #soukouku #bsd skk

[perspectivestarters]

Perspective's Sentence Starters; MIDNIGHTS by Taylor Swift (Part II)

VIGILANTE SHIT

"Draw the cat eye, sharp enough to kill a man."

"You did some bad things, but I'm the worst of them."

"Sometimes I wonder which one'll be your last lie."

"They say looks can kill and I might try."

"I don't dress for women, I don't dress for men."

"Lately I've been dressin' for revenge."

"I don't start shit, but I can tell you how it ends."

"Don't get sad, get even."

"She needed cold hard proof, so I gave her some."

"Where you think she got it from?"

"Now she gets the house, gets the kids, gets the pride."

"Picture me thick as thieves with your ex-wife."

"She looks so pretty drivin' in your Benz."

"Ladies always rise above."

"Ladies know what people want."

"The lady simply had enough."

"He was doin' lines and crossin' all of mine."

"Someone told his white collar crimes to the FBI."

"On my vigilante shit again."

BEJEWELED

"Baby love, I think I've been a little too kind."

"Didn't notice you walkin' all over my peace of mind."

"Puttin' someone first only works when you're in their top five."

"By the way, I'm goin' out tonight."

"Best believe I'm still bejeweled when I walk in the room."

"I can still make the whole place shimmer."

"Do you have a man?"

"I don't remember."

"Familiarity breeds contempt."

"I polish up real nice."

"Baby boy, I think I've been too good of a girl."

"I think it's time to teach some lessons."

"I made you my world, have you heard?"

"I can reclaim the land."

"I miss sparklin'."

"Sadness became my whole sky."

"You can try to change my mind, but you might have to wait in line."

"What's a girl gonna do? A diamond's gotta shine."

LABYRINTH

"It only hurts this much right now."

"Breathe in, breathe through, breathe deep, breathe out."

"I'll be gettin' over you my whole life."

"Never trust it if it rises fast."

"Oh no, I'm fallin' in love again."

"How'd you turn it right around?"

"Lost in the labyrinth of my mind."

"Break up, break free, break through, break down."

"You would break your back to make me break a smile."

"You know how much I hate that everybody just expects me to bounce back just like that."

KARMA

"You're talking shit for the hell of it."

"It's coming back around."

"You wouldn't know what I mean."

"Karma is a god."

"Karma's a relaxing thought."

"Aren't you envious that for you it's not sweet like honey?"

"Me and karma vibe like that."

"My pennies made your crown."

"Trick me once, trick me twice."

"Don't you know that cash ain't the only price?"

"Ask me what I learned from all those years."

"Ask me what I earned from all those tears."

"Ask me why so many fade."

"I'm still here."

"Karma is the thunder rattling your ground."

"Karma's gonna track you down."

"Sweet like justice."

"Karma is a queen."

SWEET NOTHING

"They said the end is coming."

"Everyone's up to something."

"I found myself a-running home to your sweet nothings."

"All that you ever wanted from me was sweet nothing."

"On the way home, I wrote a poem."

"What a mind."

"All that you ever wanted from me was nothing."

"You should be doing more."

"I can't admit that I'm just too soft for all of it."

MASTERMIND

"Once upon a time, the planets and the fates and all the stars aligned."

"Checkmate, I couldn't lose."

"What if I told you none of it was accidental?"

"Nothing was gonna stop me."

"Just like clockwork, the dominoes cascaded in the line."

"What if I told you I'm a mastermind?"

"Now you're minе."

"It was all by design."

"All thе wisest women had to do it this way."

"We were born to be the pawn in every lover's game."

"If you fail to plan, you plan to fail."

"Strategy sets the scene for the tale."

"No one wanted to play with me as a little kid."

"I've been scheming like a criminal ever since to make them love me and make it seem effortless."

"This is the first time I've felt the need to confess."

"You knew the entire time?"

#rp sentence starters #rp sentence meme #rp sentence prompts #sentence starters #sentence meme #sentence prompts #lyric sentence starters #lyric starters #music starters #rp meme #rp memes #rp prompts #ask meme #*mystarters #*midnights

[antisociallilbrat]

We Need To Talk About It

Buckle up boys, this isn't one of my fun fandom discussion posts but I want to talk about it.

Before we proceed, Tw: for mentioned racism and csa

So I came across this tiktoker who read It by Stephen King and said verbatim "You should not read it" and then proceed to list reasons why. He has since corrected this but his point of 'it's not crazy to question why this was written' still stood. I want to talk about how this harmful to writers and just the future of fiction in general. Also I'm not giving out the name of this tiktoker because I don't want any hate being sent his way.

Two of his driving points for 'why you shouldn't read It' was the racism throughout the book and the infamous sewer scene concerning the kids. While I have not read all of the book, I am aware and have read parts of what he's talking about. And if you have read all of It and want to contribute to this post, please do, even if you don't agree with me and want to put your own input.

Let's tackle the racism in the book. Mike Hanlon was a black boy (one of the only poc in Derry if I remember correctly) growing up in a small town in the 1950's. This tiktoker's issues stems from him feeling like King 'overused' the n-word. For me personally, writing slurs that are not mine to reclaim, such as the n-word, I usually try to avoid writing in fiction but when an author does it write it in fiction (keyword there) it's much like an actor playing a racist character, at least imo. The actor themselves are not racist but the character they are playing are, just like when writers write fictional racist characters. That is what was happening in the book It. Also it's worth a note that It is intended to be horrifying and King is known for not just using 'monsters' to unsettle the reader but also real everyday horrible things. Hate crimes, violence on minorities, racism, ect, he writes these things to make the reader uncomfortable on purpose. It's a horror novel, that's the point. Other genres this could be called into question when the point of the book isn't to, ya know...scare you.

Now on to the sewer scene. This was probably the biggest point for this tiktoker on not reading It, and I just felt like they kinda just missed the point of this scene. The entire point of that scene was to signify the loss of innocence of the Loser's Club after their first battle with It. It was not written in a 'sexy' manner and it was written again, to make you uncomfortable. This tiktoker's statement that really bothered me was "we should question why this was written" and...you really don't have to. It's a horror novel, you being uncomfortable by that scene was the goal plus the deeper meaning behind it. And the implication of 'questioning why fictional writers write certain things' is so harmful because if this was to be the majority mindset, it wouldn't just stop with scenes like this. There's also the fact it almost sounds prosecutory and literature and books as a whole in the U.S. are already under attack and mindsets like this just fuel that fire.

Moving on, let's talk about Bev real quick. Look I don't like how King writes women for the most part but he's always kinda...written them as 'women written by men' and I just chop that up to bad writing. That's very prevalent with how Bev is written in It- but bad writing is just that, bad writing.

A side note, things like manifestos or harmful agendas should 100% be questioned, I'm only talking fictional works here.

So here's the thing at the end of the day, authors don't owe you trigger warnings (or so they say but that's a deeper topic I don't want to talk about rn) but if you are aware of your triggers there are tools to help you avoid them. Read reviews, ask a friend who's read the book, or google it. Goodreads has helped me avoid a couple of my triggers in books I was interested in. If you don't like or can be triggered by disturbing things King probably isn't the author for you.

This idea of 'questioning writers' or 'holding them accountable' needs to stop in its tracks. I fear the day if this ever becomes the majority mindset. Odds are this would lead to the questioning of 'why do people enjoy reading this, should we judge them?' and the answer is no. Some people enjoy feeling disturbed or scared by a book just like some people enjoy laughing or crying because of the book they're reading. It's honestly not that deep.

Also tiktoker idk if you're active in the It fandom on tumblr (im going to guess not) but again, this is no hate to you, I just deeply disagree with you.

Last statement: King was high off cocaine when he wrote It.

#i had things to say #and i said them #and im open to different opinions #stephen king #stephen king's it #it 2017 #it 2019 #pennywise #the deadlights #bill denbrough #stanley uris #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrack #mike hanlon #ben hanscom #beverly marsh