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#grumpy/sunshine
thatharringrovehoe · 1 year
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This is how I KNOW this movie was written by a man. Ain't NO WAY miss 'eco-warrior' Layla Williams is picking that stale piece of wonder bread over 'grumpy cinnamon roll with daddy issues' Warren Peace. Ain't👏 no👏 way👏
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becky5203 · 5 months
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The OG golden standard Grumpy/Sunshine couple and their successors
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sadeyedsugar · 8 months
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can you tell I love a good trope filled romance hehe… anyway if you’d like to be added to the taglist for either/both feel free to comment cuties ૮₍˶ •. • ⑅₎ა ♡
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my-castles-crumbling · 4 months
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My wife and I are sitting at the table and I am listening to conan gray and she is listening to christmas music and if that isn't grumpy/sunshine....
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skullywullypully · 8 months
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Dude, what if instead of human child, y/n just bring home opossums and declare them as their children.
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Miguel:
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lexxwithbooks · 2 years
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📖: 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝑯𝒚𝒑𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒔 🧪🔬🎃
✍🏽: 𝐀𝐥𝐢 𝐇𝐚𝐳𝐞𝐥𝐰𝐨𝐨𝐝
Get the book! 🌟
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oh-my-damn · 6 months
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Please please!!! Tell us the plot for the devil inside!!!!! 😍😍😍😍😍
Your wish is my command, my dear 😌 🫡
I'll give you a short snippet of what I've been working on so far 🫶🏻
This is the fic that will have literally every single trope under the sun (hopefully). I'm going to jam-pack this fic with all the clichés in the world and I have a feeling I'm going to thoroughly enjoy doing it!
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Basically I'm going to try and fit in all of these tropes:
Enemies to lovers, grumpy/sunshine, avengers vibes circa 2012 (living in compound), avenger!reader, forced proximity, only one bed, friends with benefits, mutual pining, hurt/comfort, miscommunication, angst for the hell of it, and a hell of a lot of smut. For kinks I'm thinking definitely a metal hand kink, choking, some rough sex but also some soft sex (we like the duality of bucky), spanking, dom/sub vibes (I'm kinda considering experimenting with bucky as both a dom and sub/that they switch bc I feel like Bucky has a subby side), lots of dirty talk obviously, breeding kink/cumplay, touch starved bucky.
It will be Beefy!Bucky (circa Civil War) with manbun, but his vibes will be FATWS!Bucky bc he's sassy and sarcastic and snarky. I may also delve into him having the shorter hair later on in the story, I haven't decided yet, but so far we're doing long haired Bucky bc I love him!!!
These pics inspired me last night to get to work so here are the vibes:
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Snippet of The Devil Inside under the cut!
When you got up to get your things, that's when he approached you. Your eyes shot up at the sound of his voice, your body tensing at the question he asked you.
"You call that fighting?"
And that was that. You were too stunned to come with a retort at the time, all you could do was look at him in shock as he snickered and walked off, and you've recounted that moment in your head a thousand times by now. How he laughed you off, the look of amusement on his face, as if you were the dumbest person in the world. It was clear he certainly didn't think you were worthy of being an Avenger.
Ever since then, you've hated him.
It only intensified over time.
There was the time when he scoffed when Tony chose you to go on a mission with Bucky, Steve and Nat. Or the time when he scowled at you for grabbing a beer with the rest of them in the common room after a long mission.
Not to mention the countless times he had walked off, practically mid-conversation, if you walked up to the group he was standing with.
Yes, it was safe to say that Bucky Barnes loathed you, and you felt the same way.
Which only made it more infuriating that he was the most beautiful man you'd ever seen.
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witchersmistress · 11 months
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Tails you win
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Hello my darlings!! wanted to do something or someone new for you in this case. Captian Syverson.
Warning: Blood, violence, death and gun shot wounds.
Word count: 7.5k
my usual warning, you do not have my permission to copy or use my work in anyway, if you do ill haunt you for the rest of your days!!
Propbably gramatical errors and typos but i type to fast for my own good lol
Name pronounciatuion for the FMC : her given name is Saorise, Sheer-sha, in Irish-Gaelic means freedom
Her nickname, gifted to her at a young age by Syverson: Louhi, Lo-hee, Finnish origin, she is the goddess of Death and Disease.
Saoirse's POV
I’m wearing the dress Svyerson picked out for me. It hugs my body in all the right places and makes me feel beautiful and deadly. I feel like one of those knockout nineteen fifties actresses like Ava Gardner or Grace Kelly, ready to take on the world. Who knew that an item of clothing could make you feel so powerful? I smile at the memory of Svyerson sliding up the zipper of my dress, recalling the hunger in his eyes and the way his fingers lingered on my skin as he stared at my reflection in the mirror just like I’m doing now. Thinking about him makes me wonder if it’s possible to miss someone who is still a part of your life?
Because I do. I miss the man who could relax enough to kiss me. Who could cup my cheeks in his huge palms, fuck my mouth with his tongue and make me wonder what having sex with him would be like. Since we kissed, he’s gone back to being less handsy and more gruff. Over the past couple days that we’ve been in each other’s orbit, it’s been tense, to say the least. I’m not sure if it’s all that pent-up sexual tension or the fact that Carter has asked Svyerson to fight again tonight, this time with a man called Derby, brought in by the King no less.
 I’ve never heard of him before, not on the fight scene and not as a name to be familiar with in the criminal underworld. Still, that doesn’t mean anything. Just because I’ve never heard of him doesn’t mean he isn’t a threat. It’s more likely that he is one tonight because Svyerson will be going in cold to the cage with nothing to go on. Not that I’m afraid for him. On the contrary, Svyerson is the best fighter out there. Hands down. He’ll win. He always does. He won me, didn't he? I grin at that, my bright cherry-red lips complimenting my smoky grey eyes. I’ve purposefully gone for the glam but sexy look. Instead of wearing my hair down like I usually do, with the help of Nadia, I’ve got it pinned up in a low bun that sits at the nape of my neck with tendrils of my dark hair hanging  loose at my temples,
adding a softness to my features. In all honesty, I feel like a knockout, and I’m more than ready to floor Svyerson. Satisfied with my reflection, I slid my feet into my favorite Louboutin heels, the same ones I wore that night I met the King. Who, despite my reservations, is attending tonight. Just like all of Carter’s business associates and acquaintances are. It stings a little that this night isn’t about me, or my eighteenth birthday, but about my dad and his business… Our business? I’m still not certain whether he wants me as his partner anymore. He’s barely spoken to me these past few weeks, and has certainly avoided even being in a room with me. Which is why I have to prove myself tonight. I will be the perfect Davidson. Strong, beautiful, and not to be fucked with. Whatever goes down tonight I will take it all in my stride, because like I said to Hudson, it’s not a Davidson party without a little—a lot—of bloodshed.
“Who the fuck is that?” Hudson, my best friend, asks as a man not dissimilar in size to Svyerson steps into the cage. Around us the chatter quietens as everyone focuses on the new guy who is as bulky as Svyerson but maybe a couple inches shorter. He’s so pale, he’s almost translucent, except for his face where he has a skull tattooed into his skin. If he’s going for the intimidation look, it looks good on him. Svyerson isn’t easily scared. I’ve never seen him look even remotely concerned in the cage, but there’s an edge of apprehension in the way he carries himself, and that in and of itself is cause for concern. “Is that who I think it is?” Tony, a small-time gangster who I’ve been talking to for the past ten minutes, mutters under his breath. He’s actually one of the few men I recognise here tonight. There are a lot of new faces, most of them brought in by the King according to my father, including Svyerson’s opponent. “His name’s Derby, right?” I ask, repeating the only thing I know about the new fighter and hoping Tony can fill in more details. “Yeah, it is. He’s to the King what Svyerson is to Carter,” Tony explains, the excitement in his eyes sparking concern in mine. “He’s an enforcer?” “Yeah, he worked for the King once upon a time. Rumor has it Derby banged his ex-missus and that’s why they’re getting a divorce.”
“And he’s still alive?” I ask. The King doesn’t strike me as a man who’d let anyone get away with sleeping with his wife. “Looks that way. All I know is that this fella is fucking hardcore. I heard he once ripped a man’s throat out with his bare hands.” “Fucking hell,” Hudson mutters. 
A nervous laugh bubbles out of my throat and I make a kind of choking noise trying to cover it up. “He ripped out someone’s throat, with his hands?” I repeat, hoping my voice doesn’t give away the panic expanding in my chest. “Put it this way, Svyerson might be undefeated in this cage, but Derby…” Tony smirks, “He’s the Grim fucking Reaper. Know what I’m saying?” Hudson shifts on his feet. “Fuuuuuck!” “I’m not worried. Svyerson’s got this,” I say firmly.
 “You might want to tell that to him,” Tony adds, pointing to the cage as Svyerson steps into the spotlight. “He does look worried,” Hudson comments, earning him an elbow-dig to his rib. “It’s his game face, he’s not worried,” I retorted, even though the look on his face tells me that he very much is. 
Shit.
 Circling each other, Svyerson and Derby face off. Where Svyerson is tense, Derby is relaxed in a way that doesn’t speak of arrogance, but confidence. He thinks he’s going to win. Svyerson might have the edge in height and build, but there’s no denying the fact that he doesn’t seem to intimidate this guy in the slightest. “Do they know each other?” Hudson whispers. “There’s a lot of eyeballing going on.” “Appears that way,” I reply, and when Derby drops his chin and gives Svyerson the briefest of smiles, revealing a set of gold teeth, a thread of anxiety bubbles up in my stomach. Everything feels off.
 “Ladies and gentlemen,” Carter says, interrupting my thoughts and drawing my attention to him as he steps into the cage. “Or should I say Louhi and gentleman…” He laughs at his own joke as a spotlight appears over my head, highlighting me to the room and the fact I’m the only female within it. “Oh shit, he’s not going to sing you happy birthday, is he?” Hudson mutters, raising a laugh from Tony and some of the other arseholes nearby. “Fuck,” I mutter, keeping my lips in a tight smile. “Come on up, Louhi,” Carter says, motioning me over. I want to say no, but this is Carter and no really isn’t a word he takes kindly to. Instead, with the smile plastered on my face, I head towards the cage.
 All eyes are on me, and as I stride across the room, I can see King and Rodriguez step out of Carter’s office. Rodriguez is smirking and King is watching me closely. My gut flips over. The moment I step inside the cage Carter jerks his chin, fishing in his pocket for something. A moment later he pulls out a coin and gives me a beaming smile that’s so fake, I almost wish I’d worn shades. “Carter?” I question softly, turning my gaze to Svyerson who briefly meets my eyes with an empty gaze. 
There’s not even a flicker of acknowledgement. My gut twists. I know he has to keep up pretences but fuck, that hurt. “Tonight you’re all here to help celebrate my daughter’s birthday,” Carter continues, addressing the crowd and doing nothing to temper my growing unease. “Tomorrow, Louhi will be turning eighteen, and as such I’ve arranged for Svyerson and Derby to go head-to-head, all for your viewing pleasure.” The room erupts into cheers and whistles, only quieting when Carter raises his hands. “But for tonight only we’re going to change the rules of the cage.” I glance at Svyerson with a question on my face, because we all know the only rules that apply in the cage are that there are no rules. The last man standing is the winner, that’s it.
“What?” I ask, but my question is lost amongst more cheers and whistles from the crowd. Why do I get the feeling they already know what Carter is talking about? Pinching the coin between his finger and thumb, Carter says. “In a moment I’m going to ask Louhi to toss this coin.” “Carter?” I repeat, quieter this time. He throws the coin to me and I catch it, frowning at the weight and the warmth. It’s one of those old sovereign coins that are no longer in circulation but are often mounted in jewelry as a nod to the old days. I wonder where he got it from. “Tonight Svyerson is up against Derby, a worthy opponent,” Carter continues, dragging my attention back to him as he strides around the edge of the cage.
 He looks pumped. No, he looks wired, there’s a jittery kind of energy pouring off him. It’s not fear, but excitement, and I’m not a hundred percent sure it’s the natural kind. His pupils are blown wide and he’s sweating. “As usual anything goes. The only difference is that tonight we allow weapons.” “What?” I exclaim, my Irish accent slipping through,  my eyes widening. Again I find myself looking at Svyerson and this time he shakes his head minutely, warning me not to protest. Swallowing hard, I bite back my concern and say nothing. Carter raises his brows, looking between us both as he notices the silent exchange.
“Louhi will throw the coin. If it lands on tails, Svyerson will get to choose his weapon of choice first. If it falls on heads, Derby will.” He motions over his shoulder to someone in the crowd. “Bring me the weapons.” Rodriguez steps into the cage, wearing his usual shit-eating grin. I grit my teeth, hating the way he smirks at me like he’s in on the joke and I’m the fucking punchline. Maybe I am. Standing between Svyerson and Derby, Rodriguez waits for further instruction. 
On the large silver tray are several weapons. Notably, a twelve inch butcher’s knife with a slightly curved blade, a pair of knuckle dusters with clawed tips, nunchucks, a crowbar and finally, a baseball bat. Jesus Christ. This is madness. I stride over to my dad, pressing my hand against his arm. “Carter, what are you doing?” I hissed. “Why? What’s it matter to you?” he replies, eyebrows arched. “Toss the coin, Louhi,” Svyerson orders, his heavy Texan accent  cutting in. The sheer fact he calls me Louhi and not Darlin or Saoirse has me feeling all kinds of ways, and the look he gives me makes my stomach flip and my spine tingle with fear.
 Rodriguez, the prick, laughs, adding to the already building tension. What the fuck does he find so damn funny? “Yes, toss the coin, Louhi,” Carter adds smoothly, turning his back on us all and moving to stand at the edge of the cage as he addresses the crowd. “Tonight the winner is the last man standing. This is a fight to the death.” “No!” I shout, unable to stop the word spilling from my lips, but it’s just background noise, lost as the crowd goes wild. Like a pack of baying wolves they’re out for blood. This is a fight to the death. To. The. Death.
 “NO!” I repeat, striding over to Carter, anger firing in my blood and my heart beating out of control. I grab his arm, unconcerned now at how this looks to the crowd, to him. “What the hell are you doing?!” Whilst the crowd goes fucking crazy, Carter grips my elbow and forcibly pulls me towards the centre of the ring where Rodriguez stands with the weapons and Svyerson and Derby eyeing each other up. “I’m doing this for you!” he hisses. “What do you mean, for me?” I reply, glancing at the Svyerson who shakes his head subtly.
Carter ignores me and Svyerson looks away, leaving me in total confusion as Carter once again raises his hands to quieten the crowd. “Louhi is about to toss the coin. Let’s see who gets to choose first.” “Do it,” Svyerson insists, softer this time as he meets my gaze. A thousand words and a whole host of emotions pass across his features. “It’s okay. I’ve got this.” This time Derby laughs. He steps close to me and I freeze, not because I’m afraid that he might touch me, but because if he does Svyerson will lose his shit and show everyone how he truly feels and he’ll wind up dead anyway. “Toss the coin, sweetheart, let the fun begin.” Derby purrs, making my  skin crawl,  I toss the coin. The crowd falls silent as the gold sovereign flips in the air. I watch it in slow motion as gravity pulls it down, my stomach dropping out at the same pace until eventually I catch it, covering the coin up with my hand.
 “Call it,” Carter demands as my racing pulse fills my ears with white noise. Slowly I lift my hand, my eyes dropping to the coin nestled in my palm. “Tails!” I announce loudly, a rush of relief that’s quickly overridden by a powerful dose of fear, because it doesn’t really matter if Svyerson gets to choose his weapon first, he could die anyway.
“Tales you win, heads you lose,” Svyerson shouts as he steps towards the tray of weapons, picking up the butcher’s knife and gripping the handle tightly. He taps the tray twice with the blade, pointing it at Derby. “And the fighters of this club never lose!” Then he turns to me and places his left hand over his chest, right where my handprint is tattooed into his skin. My stomach flips with apprehension and dread, but also love. I love him so much it hurts. “Svyerson—” I begin but around us the crowd go apeshit, and my words are drowned out by their hollering. “I know,” he mouths. “I know.” And whilst the crowd might not be aware of the unspoken words between us, my father certainly notices. The look he gives is deadly. He knows. When the crowd settles, Carter steps forward and withdraws his gun from the holster at his hip, placing it on the tray. “Let’s up the motherfucking anti, shall we?” he rasps out in a laugh that has all the blood draining from my face. “Dad?” I question, shaking my head in disbelief. “That’s not fair.” “My club, my rules!” he snaps, jerking his chin at Derby. “Choose.”
Derby smirks, or at least I think he does because I can’t really tell beneath his skull tattoo. He glances at the gun and I wait for him to grab it. Only he doesn’t. He picks up the crowbar instead. Rodriguez looks as shocked as Carter, but the crowd doesn’t care, they want a fight not an execution, and that’s what they’re going to get. With a tight jaw and even tighter voice, Carter addresses the crowd one last time. “May the best man win!” he yells, then grabs my arm and pulls me from the cage and marches me towards his office, shoving me inside before I can even blink, let alone watch the fight unfold.
 The moment the door slams shut behind us and Rodriguez—who has followed us both into the office like a bad fucking smell—the crowd goes insane. “What the fuck, Carter?!” I round on him, trying and failing to disguise my fear as my gaze flicks to the window in his office and the fight unfolds in the cage. Derby wastes no time and lunges for Svyerson, who ducks, the crowbar missing the top of his head by mere inches. Fuck! “What’s the problem, Louhi, afraid of a little bloodshed?”
“What’s my problem? Are you insane?! Svyerson could die!”
 I shout, snapping my head back around.
“You don’t think he’ll win?” My father questions, canting a look at Rodriguez who places the tray on the desk and smirks in that infuriating way of his.
 “What the fuck do you find so amusing?” I snarl ready to punch his fucking lights out. He holds his hands up.
 “Absolutely nothing. No disrespect meant,” he replies, completely insincere, the smarmy bastard.
 “Get the fuck out!” I snap, reaching for my father’s gun and pointing it at him. The feel of the cool metal in my hand is comforting. “Don’t be hasty,” he stutters, his fucking smile dropping as he looks to Carter. “You heard Louhi. Get the fuck out.” Rodriguez spins on his heels, not needing to be told twice. When he opens the door, I catch a glimpse of Svyerson receiving a blow to his upper arm, the tip of the crowbar scraping across his bicep. Blood bursts from the wound and I swear I can hear Svyerson’s grunt of pain over the roar of the crowd. “Svyerson!” I yell, my desperate call lost behind the door slamming shut. “It’s true then?” Carter questions. 
“What’s true?” I questioned
 “That you and Svyerson have been fucking.”
“What? No!” I exclaim, my fingers curling around the handle of the gun even as my arm hangs loosely at my side. “He’s a friend.” “Like Hudson is?” Carter asks, looking over my shoulder. I turn to figure out what he’s looking at and see that Hudson’s on the other side of the window, being prevented entrance by Rodriguez who’s apparently guarding the fucking door now. I whip my head around and glare at Carter. “What is this?” I have a question. “Hudson is a friend. Svyerson is a friend. That’s it, that’s all.”
 Carter shakes his head, stepping towards me. “You’re a liar!” “We haven’t been fucking, Carter!” I counter, my voice rising in distress. It’s not a lie, we haven’t, but not from lack of trying on my part. He laughs, and it comes out cold and distant. “Hudson is your friend. I believe that. It’s one of the reasons why he’s not fucking dead already.” “What?” I whisper, dread creeping over my skin as his gaze darkens with malice. “You’re my daughter, Louhi. You forget that I know you.” “Carter… Dad,” I pleaded. “You’ve got to believe me, we’re not together. Put an end to this madness. Now!”
Gripping my arm, he twists me on my feet and pushes me towards the window, pulling up the blind so that I can see the fight more clearly. Hudson sees the movement and shouts at me through the glass. “You alright?” I nod, warning him with my eyes to back off before he gets himself hurt, but it’s Rodriguez who forcibly manhandles him out of the way. Hudson puts up a fight, throwing a punch that hits Rodriguez on the chin and forces him back against the door with a loud crash. “Maybe Hudson has more than just smarts,” Carter says, a note of respect in his voice as Rodriguez retaliates and the pair get into a brawl. “Wonder whether he’d be up to fight in the cage?” “Absolutely not!” I exclaim, moving towards the door so I can break up the fight then put a stop to the one in the cage. 
Carter laughs, snatching my arm and yanking me back against his chest. “Yeah you’re right, I can’t have that pretty head of his losing any brain cells. I think he’ll come in handy down the line.” “Useful how? What are you—?” My question is cut short when Mark appears from the crowd and strides over to the pair, forcibly pulling Hudson off Rodriguez. Hudson’s face is pitted with rage and he spits out a glob of blood before casting his gaze to me. I shake my head, warning him not to continue, but it’s only when Mark drops his mouth to Hudson’s ear that he finally backs off.
 That and the fact Mark has a gun pressed against his side. With one last look at me, Hudson grits his jaw and follows Mark to the other side of the room, disappearing from view. “Carter! What the hell is Mark doing?” I ask, panic crawling beneath my skin. “Don’t worry, Mark won’t shoot him. Like I said, he’s going to come in useful in the future. Mark will escort him home. Make sure he gets back safe and sound,” Carter says, but that doesn’t reassure me in the slightest. It only concerns me more. Hudson’s a good guy. He’s working hard to get himself and his brothers out from beneath the stigma of being a child in care.
 Crime is the road he never wants to walk down. Another roar from the crowd has my gaze snatching back to the cage. Svyerson has just slashed his knife right across Derby’s chest, spilling blood that sprays across the canvas as they continue to fight. “Dad, you’ve got to believe me. End this.” 
“See, here’s the thing, Louhi. I don’t fucking believe you. I know Svyerson touched what’s mine!” he replies sharply, grabbing the back of my neck and forcing me to watch the fight. “Dad…” I plead, hating the way my voice gives me away. This is all my fault. Every part of it. “There’s nothing going on!” But even to my own ears it sounds false. “DON’T BULLSHIT ME!” he roars, squeezing my neck tighter, his fingers digging painfully into my skin. “Now watch the fight!” “Don’t do this,” I argue. Beg, actually.
 “This is for your own good, but if you fight me on this then I will go out there right the fuck now and shoot him in the motherfucking head,” he hisses into my ear. “Do you understand me?” “Yes,” I whisper, giving Svyerson the only chance I can because Carter is many things, but a liar isn’t one of them. Svyerson has to win this fight so that together we can convince Carter he’s wrong. It’s the only chance he has. The only chance we have. As my gaze lands on Svyerson, I silently mouth the words he’d uttered just minutes ago inside the cage, sending a silent prayer to the man I love. “Tales you win, heads you lose, and the fighters of Tales never lose.” He has to win. He has to.
Syverson’s pov
Death is pretty fucking painless when all is said and done. I don’t feel a goddamn thing, not the broken ribs, not the gashes to my arms, chest, back and thighs from the crowbar Derby is wielding so expertly. I don’t feel my broken nose or cracked eye-socket. I don’t feel the bruises  or the deep gash to my head that sent me free-falling into the arms of darkness. I don’t feel anything. But I do hear something. A scream.
A fucking cry of pain so loud, so deafening, that even in the throes of death it drives a hook into my soul and drags me back from the motherfucking light at the end of the tunnel. A light that shouldn’t welcome the likes of me, but does. It comes again, and again and again. Her screams punctuated with my name. 
Sy
 Sy
 Sy
 Svyerson!
 It’s familiar, her voice, and the pain within it is like a fist wrapping around my heart and forcing it to pump faster, harder, until death crawls away and the light fades, leaving me with nothing but excruciating pain and a banging fucking headache. 
Right now, I can do nothing other than feel.
 Feel the pain.
 Feel the bloody canvas beneath my cheek.
 Feel fingers pinch my skin as someone tries to roll me over.
 Feel a heart breaking open with every second I don’t respond.
 “Svyerson, please wake up!”
 Darlin.
 Saoirse.
 But try as I might, I can’t fucking move.
I can barely fucking breathe. I’m incapable of anything other than holding on to her voice, using it to ground me, to lure me back to consciousness, one painful breath at a time. More noise filters into my brain that’s rapidly trying to make sense of the situation. Memories piece together as the sound of a man yelling at everyone to get the fuck out rings in the air.  It’s Dom. Deeper voices merge with the cacophony of sound, Saoirse’s sobs a burden as she lies across my back, pawing at me now. Yet I remain still, weighted down by her grief.
 Fuck knows I want to reassure her, I want to tell her that I’m alive, that I’ve survived the single hardest fight of my life, but that would be a lie. The biggest fight is yet to come. So I lay here instead, on the blood-splattered canvas, and wait for my other senses to return one by one, drawing on every last drop of strength left in my body and gathering it together so I can do what  I must and protect the woman I love. After sound and touch, scent returns. 
The smell of blood, metallic and meaty. I’m surrounded by the stench of it. Fucking choking on it. Next it’s sight. Spots of color invade my vision as I slowly crack open my eyes a sliver. The world reappears in shades of red first. There’s blood everywhere, a huge fucking pool of it that I’m lying in. But as I focus, trying to ignore the metallic stench of butchered flesh, my gaze falls to a wide-eyed Derby, his sightless eyes unseeing, the knife I impaled him with sticking out of his gut, the serrated edge making mincemeat of his bowels. Didn’t stop him from bringing down the crowbar on my head though. The last thing I remember is blood spurting from his lips before the world went black. He’s dead. I’m the victor. Except I’m not. Not yet. Because our fight was just a show, a fucking good one at that, given death had me in its grasp only moments ago and Derby has stepped into the afterlife. The King wanted Derby dead for fucking his wife and Carter wanted me dead for loving his daughter. They both needed revenge. Looks like I fucking delivered, at least partly. “Remove the bodies. Get this shit cleaned up,” I hear Carter order, his voice a cold, unyielding hammer to my painful head. “Yes, boss,” Dom replies, the heaviness of his voice as painful to hear as Saoirse’s distress is. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he was gutted by my apparent death.
“Get the fuck away from him!” Saoirse yells, her weight pushing off of me as she stands. I watch through slitted lids as she strides towards Carter, gun in hand, oblivious to the fact I’m not actually dead. Not fucking yet, anyway. She’s holding a gun, and that makes me feel so much better because fuck knows I’ve been worrying about her from the moment she stepped out of the cage with Carter. I’d lost sight of her almost immediately, too busy trying not to fucking die and knowing that I had to win this fight in order to keep her safe from him. Except she isn’t safe. She never will be whilst he remains alive. “Lower the gun, Louhi!” Carter demands. “There’s no need for dramatics. Everyone’s fucking gone.” “Fuck you, Carter!” she replies, refusing to do as he demands. Good girl. Rodriguez, the King and Dom are standing just outside of the cage, right in my line of vision. Both the King and Rodriguez are watching this all unfold, neither paying me any attention. Clearly they think I’m dead, just like Saoirse and Carter do. Dom’s gaze however falls to me, his eyes widening a fraction as I blink at him a couple of times, willing him not to rat me out. I’m praying I’ve read him right and he’s going to keep his mouth shut.
 I’ve got one chance at this, and one chance only. He gives me the tiniest nod, then looks away. I make a mental note to buy him a fucking drink when this shit is over. “You’re a fucking monster!” Saoirse yells. I’ve never seen her so enraged, so fucking broken, so radiantly beautiful in her anger.
 I want nothing more than to stand by her side, to back her whilst she takes on her father and any other motherfucker who dares try to control her. Instead, I use these few precious moments to gather my wits and concentrate on mentally checking my body. I hurt, there’s no denying that, but that’s a good thing. Hurting means I’m alive, and that’s all I need to be to end this. “Louhi, lower the gun and behave.”
  “Behave?! Screw you!” Louhi continues, screaming at her father now, her rage undeniable. “You killed him!” Carter shakes his head. “No, he did that all by himself by fucking you and fucking me over. He knew the rules. He broke them. There was only ever going to be one motherfucking outcome. Betray me and die. End of.” “We’ve never fucked!” she screams, lifting the gun and aiming it at Carter’s chest. “Svyerson is loyal, so fucking loyal that he refused to sleep with me even when I offered myself up to him!”
For a moment Carter appears taken aback, then a smile glides across his face. “You think I’m fucking stupid? No man would ever deny themselves a hot piece of ass, so your lies are worthless to me. Svyerson made me a promise, Louhi, and he broke it when he went after you. He betrayed me.” “He didn’t!” Louhi exclaims, her broken voice taking on a hard edge as they circle one another. I watch transfixed, enraptured by the woman who’s snared my heart so thoroughly. She’s a lioness, prowling, baring her teeth at her dad, a man who was willing to sell her to pay off his debts. 
Yeah, he’s that man. Looks like The Crib Club has been a home away from home for Carter over the last six months, and all of Tales’ profits have been sunk into card games and pussy. Turns out the bastard was willing to sell his daughter to the King to clear the debts racked up by his gambling habits and addiction to pleasure. A debt that I will clear the moment I kill the cunt. Carter might be acting holier than thou right now, but he’s the fucking villain, not me, and because of that he won’t live to see another day. The moment he has his back to me, I launch myself upright. Adrenaline and the need to protect the woman I love propelling my feet forward the few paces to rip the knife from Derby’s body and then drive it into Carter’s back, straight through his heart.
He dies instantly. He didn’t see it coming and neither did Saoirse. Her face is a mixture of astonishment and relief as she stares at me, oblivious in the moment that her dad is dead in my arms. Her eyes brim with tears, tears that never fall as relief is quickly replaced with shock, then bewilderment as blood gurgles up Carter’s throat, spilling from his lips. I watch in slow motion, breathing heavily from the exertion and pain as she tries to make sense of what’s happened. Her eyes widen and her body stiffens as realization dawns. Drawing the knife free with one hard yank, I let Carter’s body fall to the canvas with a loud thud. He falls onto his back, blood pumping from the wound and mingling with the viscous pool beneath my feet. “Saoirse,” I murmur, my arms falling to my side as I drop to my knees with exhaustion right beside Carter. His sightless eyes stare up at me, and even though I know he’s dead, I need to make sure. Ripping at his shirt, I pull it open, revealing his bare flesh. Blood oozes from the wound on his chest, streaking down his skin in rivulets. Despite the leaking blood, his chest is still. “Carter?” she whispers, her voice trembling with emotion as her gaze drops to him. “It’s over,” I reply, looking up at her.
She’s pale, ghostly, her mouth hanging open as she blinks with confusion. “Svyerson?” “It’s over,” I repeat. Only that dark part of me, the part that is more Svyerson than man, still needs to prove to her that I’m willing to cut the heart out of any man who dares hurt her, that I’m willing to do whatever the fuck it takes to protect her. So, with a bloodcurdling roar, I stab the knife through Carter’s sternum, using the serrated edge to saw through his bone. She deserves nothing less than his bloody heart, and I’m going to deliver it to her right the fuck now. “Stop!” she shouts, her demand stilling my hand. My head lifts, the rage I feel at the man who so easily wanted to sell his daughter making way for another emotion, empathy. She looks broken. 
Defeated in a way that guts me. I drop my hands from the knife handle, falling back on my arse as I watch the woman I love drop to her knees. “Saoirse, listen,” I reach for her, but she shakes my hand away, flinching from my touch. “Don’t!” “Saoirse…” But the look she gives me quietens me faster than any weapon ever could. “Dad?” she questions, resting the gun on the floor beside her then cupping Carter’s face. “Dad?” Her voice is no more than a whisper as she twists his head to the side, ducking closer to him and ignoring the twelve inch knife sticking out of his brutalized chest. “He’s dead.” My head snaps up as I watch the King step into the cage, followed by Rodriguez and Dom. I’d almost forgotten about them. Rodriguez is uncharacteristically quiet, and Dom gives me a small nod. He’s a smart man, he knows that I would never do something like this if I didn’t have a good fucking reason for it. There will be time for an explanation, but that time isn’t now. “You!” she hisses, grabbing the gun and getting to her feet, aiming it at the King. “This was you!” “No, Saoirse,” I interrupt as I force myself to my feet, readying myself to act if the King decides to go back on his word. Fuck only knows it gets my goat backing the cunt, but this is all part of the deal I made to keep Saoirse safe. “Shut the hell up, Svyerson!” I want to tell Saoirse everything, and I will when I can ensure her safety, but right now I just need to get her through this night without starting a fucking war.
 Keeping Saoirse in the dark for a short time will protect her in the long run. It has to. “You’d be wise to listen to your boyfriend, Louhi,” the King says, unperturbed by the fact she is pointing her gun at his head. “Trust me, Saoirse,” I urged, willing her to see past the carnage. To think and not act this time. At The Crib Club I made my own deal with the King after he revealed Carter’s plans. The King had said that he’d never intended on taking Saoirse for his own, and whilst I didn’t believe a word of it, I was willing to suspend disbelief to get what I wanted for Saoirse. Her security, her safety, and her father’s debt paid in full. All I had to do was kill Derby and Carter. The King would remain a silent business partner, and continue to provide fighters, taking a cut of the profits. In turn he would keep her in business under his protection, and whilst the whole part about him giving her his protection is a bitter pill to swallow, I’m man enough to know that I’m only one man, and one man does not an army make. At least not until Saoirse and I can build one ourselves. And we will.
The caveat to this agreement was that I take full responsibility for killing her dad, hiding the fact that a contract was drawn up between the two men. To be honest, after the King showed me their contract, killing Carter was the easiest fucking decision to make. Not killing the King for agreeing to it, the motherfucking hardest. I don’t like the man. Don’t fucking trust him, and I certainly don’t believe he will keep to his side of the deal, but for the time being I’m willing to let him live so that Saoirse and I can make a plan, and build a fucking army. There will come a day when we’ll both have our revenge, but in the meantime we use him, then take him out when the time is right. “This is on you,” she snarls, her rage fucking beautiful to behold.
 She may be at her most vulnerable right now, but she is fierce, and one day soon she’ll be unstoppable. “This has nothing to do with me,” the King says without even flinching. I’ll give him that, the guy has balls of fucking steel and the best poker face I’ve ever seen. “You’re a liar,” she accuses, her finger tightening over the trigger. “Saoirse, this is on me,” I say, stepping over Carter’s body and standing between her and the King, stumbling a little as my head pounds like a motherfucker.
I fucking hate that I’m in this position, protecting the King, but it’s only temporary. His time will come. “Bullshit. What do you have on Svyerson?” Saoirse presses, stepping to the side, trying to get a clear shot at the King. I move in front of her again and she bares her teeth at me. “Not a thing,” the King replies. “I’m as shocked as you are about how this all panned out.” “Bullshit!” she shouts, fury leaking from her now. “Saoirse, listen,” I say, holding my hands up and trying my fucking best not to pass the fuck out. “This is on me. I’m responsible.” “What?” she asks, snapping her gaze back to me. “I went to Carter this morning about us. I explained everything to him. I tried to make him listen. He wouldn’t.” “And he didn’t kill you the second you told him?” I shake my head. “No. He said if I won the fight tonight then he’d allow us to be together. I took him for his word, Saoirse,” I lied, because I didn’t say a damn thing about us. As far as I was concerned he knew nothing. I only realized that wasn’t the case when he asked Rodriguez to bring the weapons into the cage. Right now I’m not a hundred percent certain which fuck told him, but given the look on Rodriguez’s face, I’m guessing it’s him. “He wanted me dead. That’s why he allowed weapons into the ring. He also wanted a bloodbath, and he fucking got one.” “Yet you survived,” she whispers, sadness brimming in her eyes as she aims the gun at me now.
“Saoirse, what are you doing?” “You killed my dad, Svyerson.” “I had to do it. He would never have allowed us to be together, Saoirse,” I say, covering up the fact that I did it to protect her. That he was the fucking monster ready to sell her off to the King to save his own arse. “And I have to do this,” she replies, her sadness replaced now with a hardness that is so much like her dad it makes my blood run cold. “We can work this out,” I say, watching as she shuts down her emotions one by one. “I will never be respected in this business if I let you walk after what you did.” “Saoirse, I was protecting you!” “Don’t you see, it doesn’t fucking matter. We could’ve found a way around this together, but you chose to murder Carter instead. How can I let that go? Tell me how?” she pleads.
“Darlin, think about this…” Dom says, his voice trailing off when she snatches her head around to look at him. “It’s Louhi to you,” she snarls. “Louhi, listen, you’re in shock,” he says quickly, and the room around me fucking spins as darkness claws at my brain. “Understandably so, but even I can see that Svyerson did what he had to do.” 
“And where does that leave me?” she shouts, her voice cracking. “Carter is dead and the club is mine.” Her gaze flicks back to me now and the anguish in her eyes almost floors me. “It’s too late for me to choose. They’ll walk all over me if I don’t do this. You know that.”
 “No one would dare fuck with you, not with my backing, Louhi,” the King interjects. “I have a reputation enough for the both of us.” “And what makes you think I want your backing, huh? This is my club now,” she snaps. “Well, see, that’s where things get a little complicated,” the King says, and my fucking stomach bottoms out because I know why that is. Carter well and truly fucked the gravy train on this one. “What do you mean?” she asks, the gun moving from my chest back to the King’s.
“In order to get my backing, your father signed over a percentage of the club to me. I now own a forty-eight percent share in the club, and that will remain in place for as long as it is profitable for the both of us or you’re able to raise two million dollars to buy me out.” “Two million dollars? You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” “Those were the terms of our deal, Louhi,” the King says, conveniently leaving out the most important part, that Carter was going to sell her to him to clear his debts and secure the deal. I glance at the King, not liking the way he’s fucking smirking like he assumes she’ll never be able to raise that kind of money. He’s a fool to underestimate her. 
“Or I could just shoot you dead and rip up the contract now,” she replies, bringing a smile to my lips. “I’m feeling particularly trigger happy.” “You could, but we both know that wouldn’t be wise. I have men who know where I am and what time I’m expected back. If I don’t turn up they’ll rain hellfire down on you. You stand alone, Louhi, with one man barely alive.” “She has me too,” Dom says. “Three against two hundred loyal men. You do the math,” the King retorts. I can see the defeat written across her face as she tries hard to figure out what to do. We both know that acting out of passion and anger now will be a mistake.
 She’s smart enough to know that what she needs is time to figure everything out, to make a plan. That’s what I’ve given her, us. Time. “You’re right, it wouldn’t be wise to kill you.” “That’s a good girl,” he replies, the fucking patronising prick. “But don’t for one second think you can walk all over me. I’m not a bleeding heart. I’m a Davidson… No, I’m Louhi and no one fucks with me. Let this be your warning.” “Understood,” the King retorts evenly. She shifts her attention back to me. “I warned you not to break my heart.” 
“I was protecting you!” I protest. “No, killing Carter wasn’t about you protecting me, it was about you protecting yourself and believing that I’m incapable of finding a solution to a problem that affects the both of us.” “That wasn’t what—” I begin, but she cuts me off. “Once again you failed to consider that I had a say in all of this. Me. I don’t need a man to make decisions for me, I need a man who’s willing to stand beside me whilst we find a solution together. You’re just like all the rest.” “Saoirse, you don’t understand…” “Don’t. Not another word, Svyerson.”
“I did this for us, for you. I fucking love you,” I say, willing her to believe me. Needing her to know, if nothing else, that’s the truth. “Love?” she laughs bitterly. “People like you and me don’t get to love.” Then she points her gun at me and pulls the motherfucking trigger.
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shortpplfedup · 2 months
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Oh what a fun ask!! 9 and 13, those are my favorite tropes. Honestly, if there was a combination of it in BL that would be my never ending favorite.
9. Fake Dating
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The execution of this trope that has brought me the most delight in BL is Gaya Sa Pelikula (Like In The Movies). Especially because Karl's landlord is his uncle who literally doesn't care whether Karl pays him rent or not, so Karl didn't HAVE to fake date Vlad for rent money, he just convinced himself that he did. Ah, the rituals, they are intricate.
13. Grumpy/Sunshine
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Shiro's so happy and smiley these days it's on the edge of no longer being their entire dynamic, but What Did You Eat Yesterday (Kinou Nani Tabeta?) is my winner. The important bit of grumpy/sunshine that often gets either missed or overshot is that you have to feel the love all up and through the grumpiness or else the dynamic isn't enjoyable: the grump feels mean and you wonder why the sunshine puts up with it. Shiro and Kenji are pitched perfectly.
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zenmasterlover · 2 months
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My top three tropes:
1. Who did this to you- absolute guilty pleasure trope kinda embarrassing… I just eat it up. Seeing Hyde get protective over Jackie is everything to me
2. Enemies to lovers- classic Jackie/Hyde
3. Grumpy/sunshine- chef’s kiss
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savannahjamesauthor · 4 months
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“Hades catches my gaze in the mirror, and he holds my stare as he pulls the zipper up my back, his fingers lingering at the top of my neck for a few seconds before slowly pulling away.
I turn around to face him, and my chest brushes up against his because of how small the fitting room is.
“What do you think?” I whisper, my eyes still glued to his.
“You look breathtaking,” he tells me in earnest.
I begin to laugh, caught between embarrassed and bashful, and pull my gaze from his. But Hades grips my chin, forcing my eyes right back.
“You always look breathtaking.”
- The Promise of Spring by Savannah James
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ospreyarcher · 11 months
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The push to take my books wide continues! Care and Feeding is an m/m friends-to-lovers short story, replete with MUTUAL PINING and a GRUMPY/SUNSHINE COUPLE and an ADORABLE WINGED DOG.
(Why is there a winged dog, you ask? This story was originally written for a magical pets anthology... but also what story would NOT be improved by the addition of a winged dog.)
Now available at a wide variety of retailers! Kindle, Kobo, Barnes and Noble, the list goes on... just click the link and you can pick your poison.
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deancaspinefest · 1 year
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You Could Save Me (from the way I tend to be)
Author: Rex _Writes & deathbysandblk | Artist: Henri Posting on Thursday February 23
Castiel Novak didn’t even want to go to college, but since his father is a professor at Kendrick University, the decision was made for him. Determined to get through the next four years as quickly as possible, Cas decides to keep his head down and focus on his music. In an effort to get his father off his back about ‘enjoying his college experience’, Cas joins the Acafellas, one of the on-campus acapella groups. He’d enjoy the experience more if the group leader, Michael, didn’t have a psychotic vendetta against one of the other acapella groups, or if the rising star of that group—the Jockapellas—wasn’t the cocky yet charming Dean freaking Winchester, who seemed to be everywhere Castiel looked. Will the Acafellas triumph over the Jockapellas?  Will Castiel continue to keep Dean at arm’s length? Or will Dean be able to break through Castiel’s defenses and save Cas from the way he tends to be?
Keep reading for a sneak preview!
Dean turned his desk so it was facing Cas’ and smiled, “I guess it's a good thing  I sat beside you. You could’ve been stuck with Grumpy McGee over there.”  
Castiel followed Dean’s finger across the room to a very large and rough-looking guy, who had almost sat next to him but was now stuck with the perkiest girl Castiel had ever met, Becky Rosen. He couldn’t imagine how that pairing was going to work.  “But hey! We get to work together the whole semester!” Jesus. Cas didn’t know if Dean’s enthusiasm was annoying or adorable. Maybe a little of both. Cas tried to smile back at him, but he was sure it came out more of a grimace. “This is /unusual/ for a speech class, isn’t it? The whole partner's thing, I mean.” Dean looked around as if making sure no one was listening in, and whispered, “There’s a reason for that.” Cas leaned in closer so he could hear what Dean was saying and got a whiff of his cologne. He felt light-headed although whether that was from the cologne or just the sight of Dean, was anyone’s guess. “Oh? What’s that?” “I’ve heard rumors about this professor. Apparently, he’s a hardass and wants to be taken seriously so he makes things seriously difficult.  You heard him, the pair gets one grade, so that means that people have to rely on one another for their grades. But I mean, come on, cheer up. That’ll be no problem for the two of us. We’re the dream team!” Cas just laughed in agreement, but inside he was freaking the fuck out. Dream team? Who talks like that? And why did the idea of working closely with Dean all semester make Castiel want to throw up?  He had to get out there and soon before he accidentally said something stupid. Again.
[continue reading on Ao3 on Thursday February 23]
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dragons-eat-people · 1 year
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Grumpy preds.
Sunshine preys.
Preds that want to be left alone, which is probably for the best. They're always so grumpy and irritable. This usually leads to...unappeasable complications. If a prey is unfortunate to fall into a grumpy pred's grasp: Vorish activity may ensue...
Preys that wanna spread their happiness and glee toward the pred, even if they don't enjoy it. Though, most of the time they get eaten in the process. Usually it's seen as their way of wanting to cheer up their pred! Nothing's better than a struggling meal, right?
What about the opposite?
Sunshine Preds.
Grumpy Preys.
Preds who are absolutely ecstatic! They love their prey, showing how much they wanna gobble them up, mainly for fun.
The prey isn't having it in the slightest, though. They don't want to be eaten, preferably. They try not to flinch at their pred's jokes and teases, hinting at the unappealing thought of being swallowed. How long can they keep up the 'act' though?
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absolutebl · 1 year
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Hi abl! Trust you are dope as always. Sooooo I'm watching individual circumstances and I've realized that Korea like sunshine/grump pairings, is this a thing? You can also just educate us on sunshine/grump pairings on general. Much love ❤️
Korea LOVES grumpy/sunshine. They like it in their het stuff too. So much. I do too, quite frankly.
I have this:
It's a bit dated, that post.
Be challenging to be put one together for Korea, Taiwan, or Japan, because basically that's all of their BL.
This is totally sourced in yaoi, it's really fun to draw, and everyone loves a dark brooding taller (secretly broken) seme paired with a bouncy sweetness & light uke.
Classic romance dynamic.
These days they also like to flip it and make the seme the sunshine one. Especially for a chaos bi himbo. Or throw out S/u entirely, but still keep it grumpy/sunshine.
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Opposites attract of course, but also opposites cause DRAMA. The only show that has seriously explored the ramifications of pairing these two personalities is To My Star 2.
But I'm not wild about that level of realism in my BL archetypes, so I'm just gonna say that the most classic execution I've seen of this recently was Takara & Amagi. Flawlessly executed, that one.
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scifimagpie · 7 months
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Hell: I would do anything to get her back gets her back Hell: - Hell: I didn't think this through
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