#[ muses have!! consistently been strong and Yet-

[pirateborn-a]

[thefirstforgottenpages]

Tag Me in!

Authors note: ikikik this isn’t my main blog and blah blah but RHEA RIPLEY???? HELLO???? never have I ever been more down tf bad for a woman in my life she’s so FINE! that being said, here’s a fic to fuel my delusions <3

Warnings: smut, praise, mommy/mami kink, strap(reader receiving), oral,frenemies to lovers, manhandling, wrestler!Reader, charlotte flair and nia jax (sorry if y’all like them), smut with a slight plot?!?!? No wayyyy!!! anddd I think that’s it 

Hope you enjoyyyy

You guys were the underdogs. The whole WWE universe knew it. Even though you and Rhea were crowd favorites, the combined strength of a tag team consisting of the Charlotte flair and Nia freakin Jax? Even you were a bit unsettled about the odds. You let out a shaky breath admittedly nervous, struggling to lace your sports bra’s corset-like ties, you groan, angered, but it quick turns into a gasp when a pair of large hands trail down your back.

Whipping around, you’re relieved albeit a bit pissed, to see Rhea smirking down at you. “Don’t you have anywhere better to be?” You roll your eyes but nonetheless a small smile tugs at the corner of your lips. Rhea chuckles, a sound that annoyingly makes your smile grow wider. “Not when you look like that.” She purrs. You grimace waving her off even though a blush dusts your cheeks at her flirtatious words.

“Ripley, I will pin you myself in that ring.” You growl back— you’re only half serious. You look her up and down before shaking your head you return to your vanity. “Nahh you hate Flair and Jax too much to do that.” Rhea rasps, her muscular arms wrapping around your waist to shake you playfully. She places her head in the crook of your neck before pulling away. You can’t help but notice the longing twinge in your stomach as she lets go. 

“Damn straight I do,” you chide cheekily, “And if you’d be a doll and let me get ready— maybe we’d win!” You give her arm a teasing shove. “Not with that puny strength we won’t.” Rhea tilts her head up grinning at your indignation. You tsk, preceding to lean closer to the vanity glass to apply your signature makeup. You’re concentrated until you look up making eye contact with Rhea through the mirror. You both look away. Rhea’s gaze focuses on the top of her studded combat boots while yours falls upon your makeup bag.

This is how your relationship was with her. You’d flirt, fight, then shyly not talk to each other. It would drive you wild. The glances. The stares. The insults. The glares. You loved to hate-love her. Irrelevant to how much  you protested to even harboring a smidgen of a crush on her, your friends would give you absolute hell for it. 

In fact, the last conversation you had with one of them— Liv Morgan, came to mind in your fazed out state. “Rhea’s only ever like that if she likes someone, she’s just really bad at… well… being nice.”  You give a small glance to the woman once more. She was infuriating… yet you couldn’t deny she was quite literally the most gorgeous, determined, and strong person you’d ever met. You shake your hand another small secretive smirk gracing your lips as you continue to busy yourself with your makeup. So here you sat, the woman of your thoughts standing tall and brooding behind you.

You didn’t know how you felt about Rhea Ripley anymore.

“You… need help with the ties?” Rhea’s low voice breaks the silence— and your swirling musings. You nod words failing you and soon feel her hands once more trail gently over the expanse of your skin. You suck in a breath as the corset sinches you in. Your breath stays held as Rhea’s hand stays at the arch of your back. Looking over your shoulder, you make eye contact with the raven haired woman. As Rhea parts her obsidian lips a deafening knock is heard on the other side of the dressing room door. “Ripley!! you’re on in 5!” Rhea and your stage name is shouted through the door at you, the noise stuns you back to the present moment once more.

Rhea’s demeanor stiffens and her hands finally drop from your waist. You swear you see a flicker of unease settle on her strong features before it’s wiped away by her signature cocky glare. Your expression nearly mirrors hers as you nudge her shoulder a Cheshire Cat grin taking over your features. “Save it for when we win love.” The term of endearment is cooed at you while a remix of your and Rhea’s theme plays signaling your entrance. And as she wrapped her arm around your waist to lead you into the ring you find yourself leaning into her muscular form unafraid of the task to come. 

Later, back in your shared hotel, you were sulking. Although you had won— much to Rhea’s teasing delight, (So much delight in fact that she had picked you up kissing you on the cheek as you clung to her beaming towards the cameras). You were deathly sore from the fight. You had taken quite a few blows from the formidable force that was Nia Jax. You murmur softly arching your back at the sharp pain. A gruff deep chuckle sounds behind you. “That bad huh?” you sigh nodding, eyes widening when you take in Rhea’s post-game appearance; Her hair fluffed out and still damp from her shower, low waisted sweatpants precariously hanging on her hips. “You look rough.” You say lying right through your teeth. With a warm realization, you found yourself wanting…her.

“Not as rough as you.” Rhea retorts, except there’s not any malice behind it. Her blue eyes soften as the soft smile she has come to love graces your features. “You don’t mean that.” You say it as a statement because you know she doesn’t. “I don’t.” Comes her uncharacteristically warm reply. Your cheeks heat at the sincerity.  

“You did good,” You muse, you don’t miss the way Rhea’s breath hitches as your hand comes to soothe a blooming bruise on her cheekbone. “In the ring I mean.” You giggle clarifying, as Rhea closes her eyes at the sensation of your smaller hand on her. “We actually make a rather good team when we’re not fighting.” Rhea mumbles, practically leaning on you with a tiredness that matched your own.

It was intolerable being this close to her, you thought. But as your gaze fluttered over her features once more, you realize that it isn’t. It isn’t intolerable being this close to Rhea, quite the opposite actually.

It was entirely too tolerable being this close to her.

The calm silence that hangs in the room speaks volumes. But your steady voice breaks it. “I think I’ve liked you for a while now.” You confess lowly, shrinking in, self conscious when Rhea stiffens. 

You relax, however, as her lips meet yours. You whine into the kiss when Rhea’s body presses against yours. There was a possessiveness to her actions that already had you shivering in anticipation. You pull away out of breath. Rhea kissed like she fought. In charge, and demanding.

You loved it.

“I think I like you too.” Rhea’s voice has a gravelly timbre to it and it sends you reeling. You don’t register her jest until her thumb swipes across your bottom lip. Her hands find their way to your lower back and you don’t hesitate to jump into Rhea’s arms as she pulls you toward the messy hotel bed. 

She practically throws you onto it. You shriek laughing, as Rhea hauls herself atop you, pressing her nose to yours. 

Another giggle sprawls out of you when her shaggy hair falls to your neck. “Rhea…” The way you say her name has Rhea shuddering. Your voice was already deliciously pitched and breathy. She couldn’t wait to ruin you she thought as her smirk deepened at your keens.

“I’m not stopping if you’re going to say my name like that again.” Her mouth is near your ear, you shudder when you hear the unspoken meaning behind them. You wanted her. And you wanted her to know that. Arching your back, you lock your legs around her, hands coming up to softly grip both sides of her face. “Then don’t stop.” 

The next kiss that Rhea places on your skin, is much lower than before. She looks up at you questioningly as she slowly lifts the hem of your oversized shirt. You nod quickly needing nothing more than to feel your skin on hers.

Your eyes roll when her second set of kisses run over your chest focusing on the soft underside of your perky boobs. “Mmm—baby-“ the pet name falls off your tongue before you can stop yourself. Rhea seems to like it however as she huffs out a husky groan of your name. 

“What do you need darling?” the sharpness of her accent shocks you, and needily, your hands weave themselves into Rhea’s raven hair. She laughs softly as you give it an experimental tug. “Go ahead sweetheart, mommy likes it rough.” Her gruff words come as a surprise to you. And at the use of her nickname, you find yourself clenching around nothing. 

You choke out her name one more time as her nimble fingers ghost beneath the waistband of your shorts. “So wet for me…” Rhea’s voice trails off in badly suppressed arousal as she pulls her hand back from your now dripping pussy. Your face heats when she holds your gaze licking your arousal off her slender fingers. She moans at the taste of you, arms coming to hold your now shaking legs open.

Rhea’s eyes darken as her tongue slips into your fluttering hole. You can’t help the whining slurred moans that fall past your lips as she continues to ravage you in ways you didn’t think possible. 

“M-mommy-fuck- please!” Your warbled mewls have Rhea shaking her head into your pussy and with a lustful discovery, you come to see her hips start to grind into the bed as she continues to pleasure you.

“You’re--mm-such a good girl for me.” There’s a choppiness to her voice that wasn’t there before and you whimper when you learn that her other hand had snaked down to play with herself. 

Rhea growls as your legs attempt to close at the overwhelming sensation. “I can’t make you cum if you do that sweetheart.” Your lip trembles as she forces open your legs with ease. The casual display of strength has your clit throbbing with a renewed need. “Rhea—mommy- I wanna cum.” Your voice is quiet, nearly inaudible, but Rhea’s keen ears hear you. Her middle finger comes to trace around your clit and that’s all it takes for your eyes to cross and your back to arch as you come harder than you ever have. You’re vaguely aware of the praises that Rhea is cooing to you as you come down from your high, a stupefied smile wobbling on your face. You smile coyly when she comes up to lay next to you. Giving her lips an appreciative kiss before trailing your hands over her torso. 

“I want this off.” You say slowly, referring to her black tank top. Rhea grins at you before lifting it over her head and throwing it aimlessly to the room. You whine softly when you find she’s braless, eyes intrigued by her pierced nipples. On a whim, you straddle her, head dipping low to greedily suck on her tits. Rhea’s head tips back at this and the strangled cry that you rip from her throat has you wet all over again. 

“W-wait.” Rhea’s stuttered croak has you tilting your head in confusion, but as she reaches for the bedside drawer she pulls out a black and purple strap. You raise your eyebrows at this rolling off her as she once again climbs on top of you, removing her pants in the process. 

“I was kinda hoping to get lucky tonight.” She mumbles before thrusting into you. It feels like the air is punched out of your lungs and all you can do is cling to Rhea’s biceps as she quickens the pace of her hips. 

“And seeing as I have,” she purrs her hand coming up to grip your neck. “I don’t plan on stopping anytime soon my love.”

[cal-writes]

some superpower/superhero au musings. that ideas been floating around my brain for a while. dont know where its going you know how my plot bunnies are but enjoy this sampler

-

"Have you figured it out yet, Surgeon?" Robin smiles serenly. She sits on the stairs, knees knocking together, her elbows resting on them and her chin propped up on both her palms.

He scowls at her, eyes narrowed. Law knows what she means but he won't admit it because it would reveal himself to be knowable. "What do you mean?" He juts out his chin.

She doesn't buy his feigned obliviousness but she humors him. "Zoro's abilities. You have been trying to discern their nature, have you not?"

He exhales through his nose and looks off to the side.

"He would tell you if you asked." Robin continues and Law glances at her from the corner of his eyes.

"I know." He says. Zoro has said as much. But Law isn't going to ask, at least not yet. It's a matter of personal pride and spite. Law doesn't owe people favors, they owe him favors. He demands answers, he doesn't ask for them. (Bepo would be telling him how unhealthy that is right about now if he were here.)

Robin considers him, head leaning to the side. She hums. Out of all the Strawhats, Robin is the person Law would consider his equal in temperament which is to say, out of all of them he is the most cautious around her. From what redacted history of hers that he has managed to unearth, he knows they've had a similar development. She is calculating. Always listening, even without sprouting ears everywhere. He needs to consider his words carefully.

"You are a curious man." She tells him, chuckling good-naturedly.

Law looks at her from above. "In more ways than one." His lips pull into a sharp smirk.

"Indeed." Robin says easily. "Have you made headway in your discoveries?"

Law squints at her, trying to gauge her angle. She might be simply curious - which Law believes to be the least likely. It could be a test, trying to see if he lives up to his reputation - possible, thought Robin seems largely desinterested in people she doesn't consider to be a threat (an insulting prospect in its own right, that Law is no longer considered dangerous to her, but he did work hard to earn their trust so he supposes it is to be expected). Maybe it's caution - there is a reason Zoro's abilities aren't public. Many people with abilities don't bother hiding the intricacies if they even can. But Zoro does. Whether that is for his own safety or someone else's is yet to be determined. 

"Some, I'd say." Law admits, trying to sound casual. Whatever Zoro's talents are they are subtle. He can rule out a healing factor definitively - even if it weren't a passive ability but one Zoro had to use consciously, Chopper is too concerned for him every time he is injured for there to be an easy fix. He has considered some form of super strength but ultimately ruled it out. Zoro was strong, occasionally supernaturally so but it was inconsistent. Law's leading theory on that front was some sort of adrenaline manipulation that would grant Zoro the ability of hysterical strength on command. He has yet to confirm that theory. The easiest would be to ask for blood samples but even with everything, Law knows they aren't quite there yet.

Other possibilies are some sort of enhancement, be that in reflexes or speed or general aptitute. Zoro is - as his alias suggests -  a demon with a weapon and almost impossible to beat one on one. He is fast but Law wouldn't say unhumanly so. A common public theory is that - as his name suggests - Zoro was either posssessed by or possessing someone and the otherworldly entity of whichever nature granted him his abilities.

Law had dismissed that one easily. Possession would indicate different personalities and quirks but Zoro's body language and fighting style are consistent - even when using something other than a sword. If he was possessed it was permanent.

He had considered the possibility that Zoro was normal. Well, as normal as any of them. Many of his talents could be chalked up to rigerous training and experience. Perhaps he had started young, had the natural talent and dedication to keep up to speed with other super powered individuals. From knowing the man, Law can entertain the idea. But there are too many things that trip him up. Too many things that don't make sense if Zoro truly had no other abilities.

Law has been staying with the Strawhats for a few weeks now and there are some things he has taken note off. Pieces of the puzzle he is sorting into piles before he knows where they connect.

Zoro trains, a lot. Both with weapons and without to the point that Law is quite sure that whatever ability he has is unrelated to his weapons. He's just as dangerous with his swords as he would be with Nami's staff. It's not a surprise. Zoro takes a lot of pride in his body and his prowress.

More confusing are Zoro's other eccentricities.

Zoro doesn't touch things. Law is almost mad it took him so long to take note of it. Obviously there are times when Zoro does. Out in the battlefield, doorknobs, light switches. Technically, literally, he does touch things. But at home, in the space he feels safe, Zoro goes out of his way to avoid touching things. Law would believe him to be a germophobe of some sort if he hadn't seen the man lick blood of his sword. So, no. It's probably not about germs. He just doesn't touch things in a casual way. He doesn't read books or magazines, doesn't use a phone, at most he will make himself tea or pour himself a glass of something to drink. He doesn't cook, nor does he do the dishes. For all Zoro and Sanji bicker constantly, Sanji always prepares his meals, even small snacks and doesn't nag him for not cleaning up after himself.

It might be a trauma response. Maybe he is sensitive to textures for unrelated reasons. Law can't quite define what to make of it yet.

Another thing is that none of Zoro's clothes are store bought. It seems innocuous but once Law noticed it, he could not let go of it. The Strawhats were vigilanties so money could be tight on occasion but he knows they aren't above stealing if they need or want to. None of the others seem to have a similar clothing style. Nami in particular wears fancy brands and designer clothing constantly. So it's not a matter of supply. Zoro isn't so vain he would be particular about it either. Law has seen him wear all number of things, especially if a battle dragged on long enough to destroy his wardrobe. He isn't opposed to wearing regular manufactured clothes. He just doesn't if he has the choice not to.

Perhaps it ties into the texture thing. Law will have to pay close attention to it.

Robin is still looking at him, unpreturbed by his long pause. "If you need a hint, do let me know," He scowls and it makes her chuckle. "It's quite entertaining." She says.

"Glad to be of service." He grits out.

"I am just wondering why go through the trouble. It must be thrilling to you to try and unravel the mystery." Robin tells him and Law's breath stalls in his throat. Something in her tone makes him feel warm.

He swallows hard. "Hardly a mystery. An annoyance, more like." He says, dismissively. Robin makes an inquiring sound. "I need to know what you all are capable of to make plans. Keeping it a secret needlessly complicates things."

"But it's not a secret." Robin says, bemused and Law feels himself bristle.

"It's not exactly common knowledge either." He throws back.

Robin hums again. "I suppose not but if you are expecting a grand reveal, I am afraid you will be disappointed."

"Zoro already said it's not what I'd expect." Law says. Zoro technically said 'it's not a big deal' which hadn't been helpful at all. If it wasn't a big deal, why make a thing out of it?

"That is apt. I remember being quite surprised when I was told." She says and now Law knows she's teasing him. This whole conversation is pointless.

He huffs. "I'll find out, won't I?"

Robin smiles. "Will you?"

[thecurioustale]

My New Book Is Out! | Tokens of Zeal

My new book is out!

Buy it! Buy it now!

That's right: In secret, on January 2 of this year I began writing a book of essays. Some of you may know that I have an online journal, which I created in the summer of 2003 when I was just 21 years old and have kept up with ever since. For my new book I went back to the journal and read through it, entry by entry, drawing out excerpts of interest that became conversation pieces for 81 various and sundry essays reflecting on my past life and past thoughts.

The essays are short, often very short. They are less challenging than my usual writing, I would say. My purpose was not to advance my personal frontier of philosophy and intellectual thought in 2024, or to reach a niche audience of deep thinkers, but instead to reflect sincerely on some things I've seen along the way and muse upon how my thoughts have changed and stayed the same over twenty years.

I mention this to you because I am a bit worried that anyone who reads this book might think there's not much to me as an author, and might be dissuaded from reading my works of fiction when those books eventually come out, so I'll lampshade that by adding that I wrote this book in two-and-a-half months. Make of that what you will. I told myself I wouldn't self-sabotage the book by needlessly saying negative things about it, and I am proud of it, not only the fact that I finished it at all, let alone so quickly, but of the actual contents too.

This book is "Volume 1" in a hypothetical series, as it doesn't cover the entire twenty years of the journal but only the first four months, from August to November of 2003—at which point the essays had reached "book length" (lol). So really this book is a snapshot of my life in the latter half of 2003. At that time, I was fading out of college due to financial hardship and other issues, and did not realize that I would never (as yet) return.

I have been wanting for years to go back and reread my journal, and writing a book out of it was the perfect impetus to finally do it. I think a few things stand out about the Josh of 2023:

First, my principles have remained remarkably consistent, but my awareness and understanding of the world has grown drastically, and so those same principles have led me over time to some different policy views and worldviews on some things.

Second, I was a 21-year-old arrogant block of cheese, full of hormones and self-conviction, and that definitely shows up at times in ways that I simultaneously am not proud of and yet which I admire for their sheer gall. There is something very magnetic about the old me which doesn't exist anymore.

Third, following up on that point, it was pretty inspiring and encouraging to revisit the old me, with all that native optimism and drive. I don't express those qualities anymore because life has worn me down and also because I have come to recognize that humanity's problems are a lot more stubborn and irremediable than I thought. By glimpsing into the past, I couldn't help but be cheered on by the old Josh's proud, utopian sense of human inevitability. It lifted my own spirits in the here and now!

I made the mistake of announcing the book on Patreon right after I finished writing it, i.e. back in mid-March. Then I had to wring my hands every week about how post-production was taking longer than expected. Between the irritating realities of formatting a book in software not properly equipped to format a book (never write a book in Google Docs), the complexities of my detail-oriented manner and strong vision regarding the cover design (and engaging for the first time ever with modern generative AI, and having to learn those ropes), and sustaining illnesses and other life priorities and so on, it would take me another two months in all to finally reach today, where I can now publicly declare:

The book is done! It is for sale right now. It is called:

Tokens of Zeal: Words from a Vanished Age

(Caption: Book front cover of Tokens of Zeal: Words from a Vanished Age, by Joshua Calars.)

You can buy it through Amazon in either paperback or e-book format. (I recommend the paperback version for aesthetics as it is much truer to my design vision for the book's layout and appearance, but my profit margin is actually a dollar bigger with the e-book version, so really just go with whichever version you prefer.) It is available in the US as well as in basically all the other countries that Amazon has expanded its publishing service into. If you need help finding a link to a particular version, give me a ping and I will point you there (if there is a "there" to be pointed to). This is my second published book, following Prelude to After The Hero in 2015, and the first book to be published in print.

If you do read it, first of all thank you! It's an honor that you would take the time. Second of all, I would love any feedback you care to offer. That's not a platitude either; feedback is hard to come by and I really would be interested in anything you have to say, good or bad. You can e-mail me, DM, reblog this, drop an ask, or tag me in an independent post. Whatever you like! Feedback will help me greatly when I eventually get around to writing Volume 2. And feel free to leave a review on Amazon, whether good or bad (though hopefully you enjoy the book); I am told it pleases The Algorithm. But most of all, if you enjoy the book, tell someone about it! Your word-of-mouth is currently 100 percent of my advertising budget, lol.

That's all. I wrote a book; it took four-and-a-half-months; it's done now; and it's the first time I've ever gotten to hold a book that I wrote in my hands as a physical thing, and that's pretty neat.

[nerdieforpedro]

V - Thighs

Only Parts of you Mr. Morales Series

Frankie Morales x Belinda (plus size OFC)

This fic and my blog are for readers 18+ MDNI

Word Count: 489

Summary: Belinda's question throws Frankie for a loop, but he makes a quick recovery.

Warnings: unprotected P in V, cockwarming, aftercare (because Frankie's a gentleman), thigh riding, implied oral sex (male receiving), an actual adult conversation in there...somewhere

Notes: This one is very smutty. Surprisingly so, but also sweet I think.

Main Masterlist/ Frankie "Catfish" Morales Masterlist/ Only Parts of you Mr. Morales Series

“Did you want to move in with me Frankie?” Morales hears Belinda’s question but just looks up at her. She’s warming him from above, letting him soften within her before they clean up and get some sleep. Her eyes are slightly watery, making them glow from the soft bedside lamps they’d left on in the room. Leaning her forward, Frankie lays Belinda on her back, but remains within her. “Frankie, I-” He doesn’t want her to speak quite yet. He just wants to remember this moment, one he’d never thought would come and he wasn’t sure she wanted.

“Belinda, you’re sure you want me to? It’s not just because we’ve been, whatever we’ve been doing.” Finally, he pulls back and follows his normal routine of cleaning them both up. She follows him to the bathroom and stands behind him while he’s running the water to warm the washcloth. Belinda’s hands ran along his back and she peeked her head around his broad frame, her chin nestled against his upper arm.

“I wouldn’t have asked you if I didn’t want you, Frankie. You can come home here with me.” Her hands travel down his body from his back, torso and then to his thighs. Strong enough to support her, strong enough to collide with her own from the front and back. They carried Frankie along in life and he looked damn good in the cargo pants he often wore. He met her gaze in the mirror, closing his eyes. It sounds perfect to him. Frankie pictured it in his mind, coming home at night to her on a consistent basis. “We’ll make it a home for the both of us. Just think about it.”

Turning to face Belinda, Frankie lifts one of her legs and places her foot on the top of the closed toilet seat. He takes the warm washcloth, cleaning her as he kisses her forehead, then neck. “I don’t need to think about it, Belinda. My apartment lease ends in two months but I’ll move things in before then.” He switches the washcloth to his other hand and cleans himself, putting it in the sink. She was going to take the cloth and put it in the hamper but Morales took her by the hand back to the bedroom. Sitting on the bed and pulling her on top of him. “Mi bizcochito (My little cake), ride my thigh.” She grinned and stood back up, running her hands down his chest. Fingers glided over the swell of his belly as she squatted and placed herself at Frankie’s altar. 

Dotted with small coarse hairs, she watched as the muscles tensed in his thighs when she bit into one, flicking her tongue along his skin. “No, you’re going to let me take care of you for a bit, Morales. Stay still for me.” Belinda’s osito (bear) growled at her concentrated efforts before they shared lunch in their future dining room.

Nose, Hair, and Hat. Arms

Believers in Frankie's Thighs: @yorksgirl @megamindsecretlair @guelyury @magpiepillsjunior-deactivated20 @legendary-pink-dot

@bitchwitch1981 @katw474 @rosecentury @rhoorl @mysterious-moonstruck-musings

@trulybetty @maggiemayhemnj @schnarfer @rav3n-pascal22 @bishtrouille

@alltheotps @pedroshotwifey

[dollsome-does-tumblr]

some ted and rebecca musings in a post-3.04 world

a thought i’m taking away from the ted/rebecca 3.04 interactions--

i think it’s so interesting how rebecca keeps taking too much from ted and yet she’s just not picking up on it. she catches that he’s not quite okay in fleeting moments and she genuinely cares, and i think she likes him so much, but then whenever she’s reminded of her rupert-induced pain, everything else goes out the window. like, i think rebecca has finally accepted as part of her reality that ted is really on her side, even if they’re not the hang-out-all-the-time super-close besties that, say, she and keeley are. maybe it even feels more powerful somehow because it's this polite, almost courtly love-style connection (ft. way more puns than your standard white knightery) but she also knows he’s pretty ride-or-die for her. biscuits with the boss is still going strong after a year and a half! (the mind boggles. think about the logistics of that!) she’s safe with him. and so asking ted to fight for her against rupert, because he’s occupied this sort of guardian angel role in her life for awhile now, feels really natural to her. and because ted has always been so supportive of her and she probably associates him with almost being a salve to the hurt that rupert inflicted on her, i don’t think it’s really occurring to her that this pressure is taking a lot out of him. (and in fairness to rebecca -- as far as we know, he hasn’t told her how he’s doing in detail for a LONG time. and he was the one who said “our” when discussing them vs. rupert in the s2 finale!) but i think that now that he’s spoken up to michelle, he might be on the way -- in the next few episodes -- to reaching his breaking point re: keeping quiet about how rebecca is stressing him out and asking too much of him. (as a friend, if not as her gaffer. and there’s a tricky space to occupy right there!) and i’m not sure how well rebecca would take that at first.

also, just for more agony: how much of their behavior might be informed by their marriages and those relationship patterns?

idk, i just think there’s a lot of good juicy tension and echoes of their s1 conflict going on here and i really hope the rest of the season explores it! please!!!! let jason s and hannah w destroy us with their beautiful acting!!!!! they have the range!!!!!! and maybe it could resolve in, oh, i don’t know, them both getting some experience in healthy communication in a human relationship as they figure it out together!

or rebecca totally got over the rupert thing when she saw him being such a consistent scrub in 3.04 and all of this is already resolved. only next week will tell!

tl;dr -- i like the idea of ted and rebecca having a lot of messy stuff to work through before they get to happier times together. (and the happier times will happen!!!!!! i’m manifesting it!!!!!! 💜) because they have truly accumulated so much mess at this point. and wouldn’t it be a shame to waste it??

[eorziapple]

The Cider Press ;)

Did a little bit of smut fiction on Ao3, posting it here because some folks aren't there.

Also posting below so folks dont have to go off site to read :)

She didn’t register the rocking of the ship, normally this deep down it was enough to require her to focus her breathing and stance to avoid the lurching of her stomach. The only thing she could truly focus on at the moment was her own heartbeat, the feeling of strong arms holding up her thighs as she was lifted up, and hot breath that tasted of aged, smooth, smokey spirits. Her lips opened to invite that taste in, and her eyes closed as she welcomed the passionate kiss wholeheartedly.

It had been quite some time since she experienced a kiss, and quite frankly she did not recall the experience being so… bombastic, intense, it didn’t feel this… she didn’t feel this need before. She gripped the back of Klynt’s neck, pushing back against her, sighing into her lips as she felt one of the hands holding her up wandering down her thigh to find the hem of her dress, pulling it up. She could feel Klynt’s grin as the hand ran up her inner thighs. She was surprised with how welcome she felt for the sensation. ______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

“It’s exciting, isn’t it?” Apple mused as she meted out her portion of dinner, a broad smile on her face as she looked upon the woman who had become more of a common fixture in her life in the last few months. “Sailing? Bit of the same as it ever was, if I’m bein’ honest.” She replied with a shrug. “Food sure is better than yer average sailin’ slop, I’ll admit.” Klynt flashed a grin back, Apple had to admit Sebastian had a wonderful talent for cooking for a large group like this, she wasn’t sure she could pull off meals for this many mouths as consistently as he could. “No, just well… Tural! I’ve been hearing stories of it from the merchants and mercenaries for so long, and now we’re heading there!” she chuckled, “I guess I’m just used to being back at the lab, with everything being brought back, never been on the field crew for this kind of thing.” Klynt shrugged again, “Probably need to get used to it, you’re not so terrible in a brawl these days. You may be surprised but the way folks talk it seems you’ve changed a good deal since the shadowy bastard started piggybacking on ya. All too keen on new experiences and all that.” Klynt flashed her a smile as the Hyur finished filling her plate. “I’ve plenty more experiences to show you, should you ever want to learn to climbing the mountain.” That playful wink again. Apple smirked back, “not sure if I’m that fit yet, but our sparring sure helps with that!” The Roegadyn responded with a chuckle, shaking her head and giving Apple that ‘poor little thing’ expression like her mother used to. It was a bit of a confusing reaction, Apple was sure she missed some sort of cue, or maybe it was some sort of in-joke she wasn’t privy to?

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Her body felt extremely hot, perhaps it was, in this time of summer with all the humid air, but it was different. Sensations felt more intense, the feeling of her back pressed against the wooden beam feeling its coarseness and the sharp pain of the occasional splinter as she squirmed. She felt most intensely the air against her skin, the feeling of a tongue meeting with her breast. She felt the weight of her skirt as it fell down her legs, and above all, the confident, experienced fingers -finally- delving into her. She couldn’t help but gasp, her back arching up as she felt the pleasured relief after all that build up. “There we go…” Klynt’s words were smug, she was clearly having fun with this, and it was like honey in the young Hyur’s ears. In a moment of uncharacteristic boldness. Apple gripped Klynt’s hair, pulling her face away from her chest, pulling her closer for a fiery kiss. Or at least as fiery as the inexperienced girl could emulate. Her boldness was rewarded, as those talented fingers pressed in deeper and curled -just so- causing Apple to moan loudly into Klynt’s mouth. Apple’s aetheric tattoos began to glow a light blue, the physical reaction affecting her internal aether, clearly. Klynt pulled back to take it in, “Swive, tha’s fun..” she said with a chuckle, before lifting Apple up, pulling her legs over her broad shoulders, Apple couldn’t help but admire that strong back, those scars, the tattoos, many of which she recognized as tributes to the navigator or other tributes to sailing superstitions. She didn’t get to admire for very long though, as Klynt’s head promptly dipped between her legs. Despite her limited experience, -this- trick was entirely new for her. She liked it. She liked it quite a lot, it seemed. ___________________________________________________________________________ “You know Klynt pretty well, right Seb?” Apple queried Sebastian, the always weary looking Hyur, who had the misfortune of sitting across from Apple on this particular evening. He raised an eyebrow at her, “I feel like I’m getting roped into someth-“ Apple cut him off before her could finish, likely because he was speaking the truth. “She keeps talking about ‘climbing the mountain’ and winking and smirking at me, I’m not sure why she’s so insistent about that? I’ve never been very outdoorsy, you see, and my upper arm strength is a long way from-“ Seb cut her off now, with a deep sigh and the pinch of his brow. “She is the mountain, and wants you to climb her.” Apple looked completely befuddled at that, “Why would I cli-“. “Sexually.” He explained.

A long pause this time. “Oh… -Ohhhh-“ Apple’s eyes went wide, Seb seemed grateful at least that he could drop it at that and enjoy his meal, though he couldn’t have avoided noticing Apple getting about as flushed red as her namesake. He smirked a bit as he saw the calculations being made in her mind.

Apple hadn’t considered herself terribly interested in sex, she’d had a few experiences, sure, but they were awkward and she didn’t feel like she’d gotten much outside a mostly painful experience that left her feeling a little too vulnerable in the end. But then again, she had fantasized about Zoissette, caught herself daydreaming about her, and had gotten so frustratingly sullen and depressed when she and Y’shtola had confessed their love for each other right before Apple had committed to such a confession as well. Klynt had been her sparring instructor for months, and now that Seb has put the idea in her head. She had caught herself admiring the well-built woman who had been teaching her. Those muscles, the hair, that damned smirk Klynt flashed all too often. The confidence. She had to admit as well, Klynt had a reputation amongst her peers, one that Apple found herself very curious about. Did.. did she want that? Apple blanked for awhile on that question. Minutes passed before she came to her answer, slowly standing, leaving her food half uneaten as she walked over to Klynt, who looked up at her quizzically. “Y-yes.” Apple said, a shaky start to be sure, but she was awfully nervous.” Klynt looked puzzled, “Yes what?” she responded, her confusion clear in her voice. “I would like to climb the mountain.” Apple was so very matter-of-fact about it that it took Klynt a moment to absorb what she was saying, and Apple was already halfway out of the mess hall by the time she got to her feet to chase after her. It’d be rude to say no to an invitation she laid out, after all. ____________________________________________________________________________ Apple was now -very- aware of the rocking of the boat now, every sway and bob could be felt, and her stomach was churning to be sure, though perhaps not for that reason. She reached up with shaky hands, looking up at…. All of Klynt. Her well-toned abdomen, shapely legs, all those scars, and the lovely tattoos that marked her body. It was not unlike enjoying the galleries back in Sharlayan, so much about the site she beheld was so genuinely artistic. Of course, as she looked up, there was that cocky grin. “Jus’ treat it like our trainin’. If ya make a wrong move I’ll correct ya, though you’re a fast learner, mayhaps I won’t have to.” With that encouragement, her eyes moved to the task at hand, an artistic, welcoming site of its own. She took a deep breath, gripping the back of Klynt’s thighs with both of her hands, couldn’t help but feeling so small in this moment, and her head settled right in between her legs. As she moved from tentative kisses, to exploratory tastes, she eventually dove in, emulating her unexpectedly new lover’s technique, eliciting a deep sigh. “Swiiive me.” Klynt exhaled from her lips. Deep, meaningful poetry in Apple’s ears.

Okay, she liked this.

She liked this a lot.

[realmackross]

PARTIES: @loftylockjaw, @realmackross TIMING: Mid-February outside of Hallow Eats SUMMARY: When Wyatt decides to try and take care of a bug problem, with Mack offering him a helping hand, the two are caught in the crossfire of some very strong pollen. CONTENT WARNINGS: Drug manipulation tw (Bumblekára pollen), drool tw (very brief mention)

“Okay, seriously, how does no one else hear that?” His coworkers just looked at each other and shrugged, and Wyatt huffed. Obviously none of them had his fantastic sense of hearing, which was only working overtime right now because he was partially shifted. He worked among other supernatural townsfolk and a handful of humans that were quite aware, but cool about it. His golden eyes flashed as he moved away from his workstation in the kitchen, slitted pupils searching for the heat signature to accompany the buzzing, scratching sound he was hearing. Moving out of the kitchen and into the main dining room (they hadn’t yet opened), Wyatt felt a tiny vibration start to kick up. He moved along the interior walls of the building, but it was proving fruitless. Also it kind of sounded like it was coming from… higher up? 

Heading outside, Wyatt circled the building, his reptilian gaze turned toward the awning above him. Ah! There. A mass of warmth up higher on the structure, just beyond the fire escape that came down from the second floor. The lamia took a running jump at the ladder to grab it and drag it down, nearly losing his grip as it jerked to a sudden stop far sooner than it should’ve. 

Dangling there, the lamia squinted up at the ladder and growled, thrashing his body around to try and knock it loose. That’s when he heard footsteps and felt eyes on him—quickly blinking his eyes back to their more human blue and hoping that whatever scales had been peeking out from beneath his hairline weren’t noticed (probably not, from this distance), he twisted around to look at the person standing at the mouth of the alleyway. 

“Salutations,” he laughed. “Don’t, uh… don’t suppose you’d be willin’ to give the ol’ feet there a tug n’ help me get this ladder down, wouldja?”

—

There had been a lot running through Mackenzie’s mind lately. Situations that continued to replay over and over again haunting her, but also frustrating her. It had been around two months since she had lost control and raged through town, and it seemed like ever since, she had been living in a whirlwind of emotions. Her attempts to move forward and get on with her life was like an ebb and flow and some days were better than others. And of course, the best thing being her new relationship that was forming with Elora. But there were still moments when she felt as though she just wanted to let go. Let loose and not worry. And today was one of those days.

Venturing out earlier than normal, Mackenzie decided that maybe rising with the sun, would lift her spirits some, especially with the days getting shorter. It had been a while since she had made the choice to go eat at a restaurant for breakfast. Most mornings consisted of staying at home and having a smoothie of various body parts (unless it was brain day) followed by a few pancakes doused in cinnamon as a treat. But today, she had decided to go for something different.

As she made her way down the quiet sidewalks of the small town with the few early risers that were already out and about, she had almost made it to her destination when she heard a voice from…up above?

Mackenzie, with one half-raised eyebrow in confusion, cocked her head to the side as she looked up to see a man hanging from a ladder, “Uh…salutations? I’m sorry, the last time I heard that word was when I was like eight after watching Charlotte’s Web…” Blinking a few times, she sighed and walked towards him, “How did you get up there anyways? And what are you doing?” Reaching up, she grabbed onto his shoes and began to tug as hard as she could.

—

“Guess I’m old fashioned like that,” Wyatt mused, adjusting his grip on the ladder with a grunt. “Oh, well, I jumped! I was tryin’ to get the escape ladder down, so I can get up there and see what the heck is livin’ in our wall. But it uh, got stuck.” Feeling her pulling on his feet, he adjusted his grip again and squinted his eyes up at the ladder, willing it to release. Something started to grind, and he could have sworn he was moving very slowly. “Ah! Yeah! Just like that! C’mon, nearly there—” The ladder gave and they were suddenly falling very rapidly, and without much thought, Wyatt let go of the ladder with one arm to instead grab onto the stranger and stop her from cracking her head on the pavement from the sudden inertia of the not-so-little man dangling above her. They hung there for a moment before Wyatt heaved her up so she could regain her footing, then let her go and grabbed the ladder with both hands to start hauling himself up it to get his feet on the first rung. “Many thanks!” he called down to her, a bit out of breath by the time he got his feet on the ladder and could take a short break. 

He leaned back, staring up at the spot where the sound was coming from, blinking again and shifting his eyes back to their reptilian state. The heat signature was there, clear as day, and it looked… yeah, this was a bug problem. What kind of bugs was the question, but whatever they were, they had to go. Wyatt just wanted to know what to tell the exterminator. He was… going to have to get into the wall, probably. Something he’d not considered until now. Damnit. Shifting back to blue and looking down at the girl, his gaze then scanned the alley. Ah. 

“Uh… one more favor, if you don’t mind? Can you hand me that cinderblock over there by the dumpster, ma chérie?” He squatted back down and held a hand out toward her. “I’m Wyatt, by the by. So you know who to warn your friends away from,” he added with a chuckle.

—

Mackenzie listened as she continued to tug, until she felt a slight shift. Her mind had been on not getting squished by the man hanging just above her head, but when the ladder started to drop, the zombie realized she needed to move. However, down they went together — her, the ladder, and the man casually hanging from it. Luckily, like a true southern gentleman, she felt her fall being broken by him, before he was helping her back up. It had all happened so fast that Mackenzie didn’t have time to think, but once she had regained her composure, she was watching him attempt to move up the ladder once again, “You’re welcome…I think. But you said there was something living in your walls? Any idea what it might be?”

Stepping back, she looked upwards with a squint as the sun peered down into her eyes, “Is it even safe to be climbing up there? I mean you are going in without any ideas of what might be lurking.” And with this town, it could have been anything. “I’d just be cautious if I were you.” Letting her eyes fall from the brightness and the pain it was causing, Mackenzie heard him ask for the cinderblock. Now, what is this man up to?

“I don’t know what you’ve got in mind, but sure. Hold on.” Going over to the dumpster, she picked up the cement block and carried it back over to the man still standing on the ladder, “Mackenzie. And honestly, right now, it feels like friends are few and far between, so I don’t think you have anything to worry about.” Raising the block up with both hands, she passed it off to him, “What do you plan on doing with that?”

—

“Pests, probably. As for what I’m gonna do with this…” he took it from her, grinning at it in his own hands for a beat. “Why, gonna put a hole in the wall with it, what else!” Wyatt answered Mack as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. He approached the spot and, rearing his hand back, prepared to strike with the cinderblock, hoping to break through whatever cheap siding this place had been built with.

What the shifter couldn’t know was that these were no ordinary bugs. In fact, they weren’t bugs at all. They were bees, but not your average honeymakers. And they weren’t supposed to be here, of all places, noticed only thanks to the lamia’s heat vision, since they had been otherwise dormant. It was getting colder out, so that made sense. But dormant or not, the moment the wall came exploding inward right next to their hive, they were awake. And mad. 

The raucous buzzing could be heard even from where Mackenzie stood as the hive thrummed to life, slipping out of their hibernation to defend their home. Residual pollen from the springtime feeding still clung to the Bumblekára’s little fuzzy bodies, and as they flapped their tiny wings an an angry, threatening sort of way, a cloud of that pollen came billowing out of the hole Wyatt had made. The hole he was now pressing his face up to to try and see if it was wasps or what. (No one ever said he had a healthy sense of self-preservation—he was a ring fighter, after all.) 

He coughed, pulling back from the cloud, eyes wide. “What the fuck?” The coughing continued, the pollen irritating his lungs and making him feel dizzy as he stumbled back from the wall, grabbing onto the railing of the fire escape to steady himself.

The cloud sank low into the alley, engulfing the whole area in a thick, colorful, dizzying haze. 

—

“Right? So you’re gonna break a wall and anger whatever’s in there. This should be interesting.” Mackenzie wasn’t worried. She was dead after all. If anything had decided to come out of the hole she watched the man now busting into the siding of the older building, it wasn’t like it could hurt her right? So she stood by with her face aimed upwards watching as he made an effort to beat an opening. It was only then, when he was successful, that Mackenzie could hear what sounded like buzzing. Her ears hadn’t been the absolute best, but she knew bees buzzing, and it was only confirmed when she watched them zip out of the hole bringing a cloud of dust with them.

With the plume of pollen surrounding Wyatt, Mackenzie watched as he stumbled, reacting on instinct ready to catch him if he were to fall, but there was some relief when she noticed him catch the ledge and hang on. However, it wasn’t pleasant seeing the haze seeping downward soon to engulf her in it, only to leave her coughing and trying to fan it away. Great. Something that apparently could affect her. Pollen. But it didn’t take long for her to stumble forward looking for something to grip while the world started to spin around her, “What the fuck?”

Closing her eyes and trying to steady herself was proving to be unsuccessful, “Wyatt! What did you unleash!?! She had been waiting for the stings, but they never came. Instead her mind started to race as if she were under the influence of something unpleasant at first, but oddly turning into something more enjoyable. At least for the moment in time while she leaned up again the building the man had just knocked a hole into.

—

“I dunno…! Bees?!” The lamia tried to take a deep breath to settle the dizziness in his head, but breathing was hard in this damned cloud. He ought to get out, really, but… he was distracted by the way he realized his hands were changing. The fingers grew longer, the skin began to turn a sickly green, and… and… oh. Oh. 

Wyatt gave a small start as he realized he was slipping into an involuntary shift, alligator scales sprouting on his arms, neck, and face, his pupils thinning into slits while the irises turned a golden yellow. But even worse than that, there was something going on with the girl—something weird. Weirder than him? Hard to say. He leaned over the railing, his concern for dropping from such a height gone as the hallucinogenic rampaged through his system. The girl, Mackenzie, was growing horns. Or was it antlers? He didn’t know, didn’t care, except that it was fuckin’ wild and he wanted a closer look. 

Allowing the shift to continue, putting an unfortunate strain on his clothes, the lamia scampered down the steps to the landing where the ladder was connected, staring at her. 

“What’s with the head decorations?” he called, not realizing that he was fully imagining all of it. He climbed up onto the railing, heaving a sigh as the shift rapidly accelerated and left no trace of a human behind, just a reptilian monster that resembled a bipedal alligator, draped in what had once been Wyatt’s work attire. He dropped from the fire escape, landing in the alley with a thud that rattled the nearby windows before standing upright again and reaching for her imagined antlers that were sprouting higher and higher from her head. A quick glance down also revealed to him (or so he thought) that her face was… growing fur? Like his scales, but very much not like his scales.

Wait a minute. Was she like, a deer person? What the fuck?

It was then that the lamia felt his stomach growl.

—

Mackenzie closed her eyes trying to find balance, but the smells…Oh mylanta, the smells of fresh cooked meat had her mouth watering. And as she opened her eyes again, she let her gaze shift until she noticed the alligator plopping down to the ground with a hard thud. Mackenzie startled at first, but suddenly more curious than anything. And as he moved in closer to her, his large gatory arm extending out towards her, she couldn’t help but see it as something battered and deep fried, the tiniest bit of drool seeping from the side of her mouth, until he said something about head decorations, “What? I don’t have anything on my head. Do you always walk around looking like a snack?”

The young zombie had managed to push herself off of the wall as she inched closer, her eyes glazing over to pure white nothingness, but her brain and ability to talk still there. If she had caught sight of herself in a mirror, she would have seen nothing but rot and decay, but apparently her gator friend was seeing something else, “Hey! We should go get hot sauce. Like the hottest sauce known to man. Some of that Carolina Reaper shit that everyone talks about. That long, freshly battered tail you’re sportin’ right now isn’t going to marinate itself.” She wandered over to it and slowly leaned down to lift it up and observe it, “You know…this would totes make a super cute purse too and boots…You could make a lot of money, man.”

—

“I mean… nice of you to notice, but I think I’d count myself as a whole damn meal. Five courses n’ all,” Wyatt countered with a laugh. The deer-girl’s interest in his tail was, mm… hard to describe. Not threatening, because he was big and had lots of teeth, and she was small. And had… probably flat teeth, or whatever deer have. Not a threat. Not a problem. Kinda weird, though. She would make a decent meal…

Pulled from his thoughts as Mackenzie picked his tail up from the ground, the lamia let out a crocodilian hiss of breath, then followed it with a snort. “Yeah, well, I need that tail for things. Things that don’t involve purses, boots, or hot sauce. Ain’t you like a vegetarian, anyway? I know gator is the most scrumptious of the meats, but I never seen a deer eat meat before.” He turned to face her, pulling his tail free of her grip. “Me though… I eat lots of meat. Hell, I live on it. N’ you…” He dropped down onto all fours, ready to lunge at her with massive, gaping jaws. “You’re the one lookin’ mighty tasty right about now.” He recoiled and then sprang, far more agile than a real alligator would’ve been on land, and therefore, far more deadly. Not that he realized his chosen prey was already dead—might not have been interested, if he knew that.

— 

“I bet you would.” Mackenzie licked her lips. Forget the tail, there was a lot Mack could feed on. From his hind quarters to his cute little prehistoric looking arms and of course that funny little brain that kept telling him she was a deer. But her trance was broken, when he ripped his tail away from her and out of her grip. Instead of dwelling, she shook her head a little and looked back at the gator man as a whole, “Too bad, you’re a walking high end designer bag that could fetch a lot of money.” She shrugged.

Turning around, not paying any attention to him down and ready to lunge, Mackenzie started to walk forward and just in time too, because if she had stayed in the same spot, she surely would have been gator food. It was the Bumblekára pollen that had her so carefree and nonchalant about things. So much so that it almost gave her an air of coolness that she only turned on when she was acting for the camera, “And why do you keep calling me a deer?” She narrowed her eyes thinking about the question, before turning back around, “I guess if you like your meat dead and rotting. I mean, I would say I’m more roadkill than Bambi.” She started laughing at her own joke as she turned back around to face him.

—

His jaws snapped shut and caught nothing but air, and he grumbled. That should’ve been… a lot easier. He felt weird. Confused, almost. Obviously it was affecting his ability to hunt. “Because you are a deer—what you mean, dead and rotting? You don’t look dead to me.” Wyatt paused, narrowing his eyes at her and craning his neck forward to give her a good, long sniff. 

Okay, so she didn’t smell like the dead things he normally came across in the woods, but she definitely had some kind of… aura about her. The lamia stopped for a moment, thinking hard about what Owen had said. There were more than just vampires. And—duh! Caleb was dead, too! And he didn’t smell dead. Was this deer girl like—

Oh, wait. She wasn’t a deer. The fur and the antlers were suddenly gone, leaving in their place one very normal looking girl. The lamia huffed out a breath and lifted his head again, rising up onto two feet. “You’re… not a deer. And you’re dead, like my—like a guy I know. Okay. I’m—” God, stringing together a coherent sentence was hard. He glanced up at the hole in the wall where the bees had retreated, and the sky still glittered and sparkled with the haze of pollen they’d blasted out at him. “I think… maybe… we shouldn’t be in this cloud,” he thought aloud. “But… um. I can’t… someone might see.” And if he shifted back, he’d be naked. And he really didn’t want this random person seeing him naked.

—

“No, I am not a deer. And yes, I am dead.” Normally Mackenzie wasn’t so carefree with who she revealed her true identity with, but this guy was a huge humanoid alligator that looked like he came straight out of the Peter Pan cartoon that she had seen many, many years ago as a child. “And you’re a walking-talking alligator.” Mack looked him over once more, until he mentioned the pollen cloud. Letting her eyes glance up, she noticed it was still lingering.

Mackenzie had only ever been high once in her life, and it had been enough for her. Not something she had ever desired to feel again, but here she was, except this time, it was totally different, “I think you’re right.” With the realization of what was causing their hallucinations, life seemed to suddenly start to cut back through and… “Oh…uh. Yeah, I mean, I can offer you my hoodie, but that’s about it.” She looked over to see his other clothes in shreds on the ground. Man this guy must have had a closet full of clothes. And then some.

Quickly glancing around, she spotted a small souvenir shop across the street. Why anyone would want Wicked Rest souvenir’s she’d never know. It seemed like leaving with the scars of what this town could do to you was enough, “I have an idea! Go hide somewhere…like over there in the shadows. And don’t breathe.” Easier said than done, at least for a walking dead person. “I’ll be right back!”

—

“Don’t breathe? You—” But she was off, and Wyatt was left to mutter to himself, hunkering down and hoping he was low enough to keep his head clear before scurrying off to the darkest corner of the alley, side pressed against a smelly dumpster. Clawed hands reached out to cover his nostrils and he begged the woman to hurry, growing antsier by the second. 

His eyes were tightly clamped shut when she returned, afraid of what he might see and how he might react if he opened them. He felt something soft dumped onto his snout and he peeked with one yellow, slitted eye. 

This was far and away from his first choice when it came to fashion, but what other alternative was there? Ugh. The lamia lifted his head and gathered the clothing in his reptilian hands, offering Mack a nod in thanks. “Turn around,” he huffed, wasting no more time in reversing the shift and hurriedly pulling the clothes on—the sweatpants and sweatshirt were ugly as sin, but at least they were comfortable and fit okay. The sandals, while not right for the season, were probably the only footwear available in that place, so he tried not to complain too much about the horrific combination of Wicked’s Rest socks and sandals adorning his human feet as he slipped them on and stood up. As he moved past Mack, he urged her forward with a touch to her shoulder, and the pair quickly left the alley and rounded the front of the building. Along the way, he bent down to snatch up his phone that’d clattered to the pavement after his gator body had ripped through his clothes, annoyed but not surprised to see that the screen had cracked.

Calling up the coworkers he’d abandoned in the building to finish prep on their own, he informed them he was actually taking the day off as something unexpected had come up. Not really caring if that was about to cost him his job, he hung up and looked down at Mack again. 

“Well… thanks for the help, even though that all went to shit.” He paused, considering the girl’s undeadness. “Hey, you like spicy food? I hear that’s the closest folk like you can get to tastin’ anythin’. Got a few recipes I’ve tried out on my undead friend, n’ he seemed to enjoy ‘em. Can make you some, as proper thanks for the…” He glanced down at himself, letting out a laugh. “... incredible ensemble you threw together for me.”

—

Mackenzie had tried to pick out something resembling a decent outfit, but it was no avail, and the frustration that lingered with the options made her want to have a talk with the owner, but she didn’t have time. Besides, it’s not like she had to shop for a naked gator man on a regular basis. Well that was a thought I never imagined would pop into my head. Which led to “3 AM” by Eminem cycling through her brain and was stuck there until she returned to Wyatt, where she successfully dumped the clothes on him.

Doing as he requested, Mackenzie turned her back to him while he got dressed, and by the time she turned back around, what she saw made her burst out into a somewhat ugly laugh, “Oh shit…that’s worse than I thought it would be!” Stifling her continued laughter, she followed him quietly as he retrieved his phone and the pair left the cloud of pollen once and for all. She had felt bad he was going to miss a day's work over this, but it wasn’t often you were in the presence of hallucinogenic bee butt dust. Besides, Mack was also pretty sure he didn’t want to be caught coming back to work dressed like Wicked’s Rest’s biggest fan. How would that conversation go?

“Uh, yeah. No problem. And thanks for not eating me. I don’t think I’d taste very good.” She laughed softly, but her ears perked at the mention of spicy food. “You have spoken the magic words. I, unfortunately, love spicy food!” Mack looked up at him with a grin, “I would very much appreciate that, and uh, you can keep the clothes. Maybe use it as a Halloween costume sometime if the overgrown Alligator costume bit gets old.” She resumed walking, “You been in Wicked’s Rest long?”

—

“Wow, thanks, your generosity astounds,” he laughed in turn, always able to find the humor in a situation… he just hoped he didn’t run into anyone he knew looking like this. “But no… just a few months. Was in Boston for some years before that, though, so it’s not that different… just smaller. And with more… dead people.” He glanced at her. “No offense. Some of my favorite people are dead!” 

The trip to his waiting car wasn’t an especially long one, and once they’d reached it, Wyatt asked Mack to hold there for a second while he reached into his glove box and pulled out a scrap of paper.

“Here,” he said, writing down his name and phone number. “Hit me up when you got a hankerin’, girl. I’ll make sure you can taste your dinner. And… hey, I’ll even cook it up usin’ that offal I hear your kind needs to stay limber, eh? Wouldn’t want you goin’ hungry.” Leaning over the car door to hand it to her, Wyatt offered a charming smile. “Now I gotta get the fuck outta here before someone I know sees me. Thanks again for the assist. Be hearin’ from you soon!”

[iniziare]

'These people are of different ages, statuses, and origins, but there is something equally peculiar to them, that is, they all share a slight addiction to pain. They like the stinging sensation when pharmacists apply herbal remedies to their wounds and enjoy the dull pain caused by pressure on their bruises. They even seem to care little if anesthetic is used or not when they are put through painful therapies. Surprised by their extraordinary endurance (...)' — Yelan: Lore (Character Story 1).

The topic of her supposed 'addiction to pain', or as fanon light calls it: her pain kink. No, and no, it's not a no because I feel any specific way towards said kink, but because the take doesn't align with the rest of her character. Yelan, arguably more so than any muse I write (even Kafka), seems to be written off as being 'the most sexual' because of how playful and seductive she presents herself as, and worse yet, the amount of both extremes of sadomasochism being tied to her character is absolutely unreal. So let me... set the record straight as to what I believe that they're insinuating, simply if you look at the consistency that this plays into. Forgive the preface here, but it's important.

'Yelan wasn't always on her own. Many years ago, she once had a team who watched each others' backs. But back then, Yelan had not yet realized that her clever tricks and ingenious traps, the skills that she took pride in, could not solve everything for her. Enemies with a strong sense of self-control would not bite her bait, opponents with cunning and calculating minds would not fall for her schemes, and those with overwhelming power would simply strong-arm their way out of her traps. Therefore, Yelan and her team paid the price.' — Yelan: Lore (Vision).

Yelan is actively responsible for the death of the entire team that she led into the Chasm. Of course she didn't 'pull a trigger' directly, but it's described as an obvious case of negligence. She's described as having been prideful when it came to her capabilities, and apparently assumed that she could handle anything the Chasm could throw at her (and her team), and she was proven wrong in the worst of ways. It was likely the result of a naive mind, and the lesson that she faced immediately had an immense effect on her, as she stopped, isolated herself, and trained until her bowstring was ridden with the blood that hung at her fingertips, and her intense dedication to never letting this happen again, resulted in her hydro vision. Yelan carries a survivor's guilt that she never talks about (and is mentioned by Yanfei during Perilous Trail: 'From what I know, she's lost comrades in the line of duty before, and then was rescued herself. Maybe being a survivor is what makes her so against seeing other people sacrifice themselves. How can things ever be the same again, knowing that your life was saved when others weren't? In a way, salvation can also be a burden.'), but such a mental burden is carried with a person throughout their lives, in many things that they do, and she is no exception. Her way of dealing with it, seems to come out through an incredibly methodical approach to her work, she investigates everything from all angles, because never again will she be neglectful, never again will she leave a single stone overturned, nor will she ever overestimate her own capabilities in planning, battle or anything else. Very simply because doing so could cost others their lives, and that's a no no.

Now you may go, 'okay Sae, but you just ranted about how methodological she is, you haven't touched on—', actually, I laid all of this out because it lies at the forefront of why a line like this is a thing:

'You have to be very careful with sweets. That powerful sense of satisfaction... it weakens your willpower and makes you relaxed. It only takes a few bites to get addicted, and with long-term consumption, you'll slowly but surely lose your edge.' — Yelan: Voice-overs (Least Favorite Food)

She's practically outright stating that she doesn't enjoy things that seem to control or rather, influence your mind in any way, and beyond that, continue to affect it well after that (addiction, and long-term consumption that leads to 'losing one's edge'). This also would tell me that Yelan would primarily likely steer clear of alcoholic beverages and caffeine ('I prefer drinks like this (tea) with a long-lasting aftertaste to things like coffee and spirits.'), or would consume only very little of either, as the former influences you directly, and the latter sends you on a sort of 'high' which results in a mental dip afterwards. It would be disastrous for someone like her if she's intent on staying very aware.

Now, after all of that, the topic on pain. The reason behind this is likely two-fold, I wouldn't be surprised if I one day learned that, on a lighter level, this is 'the least she could suffer' for not doing enough to help others. God knows how much they may have suffered in pain, so enduring even a semblance of pain may be a form of punishment. But more so, I think that this part of the first quote 'they seem to care little if anesthetic is used or not', plays into the same reason that she doesn't enjoy anything that inhibits her mind in any capacity. Anesthesia numbs you, it numbs you to touch, it can numb you to smell, it can influence your sight, it simply numbs a part (or parts) of your brain, it'll make you a lot less fast on your feet. Everything about it screams a big time 'no' for Yelan. So no, it's not that she enjoys pain, as nothing else about her character seems to insinuate that whatsoever, but everything about her character does insinuate that she's inherently methodological, and so anything that reduces (or risks) the efficiency of that part of her, is generally a big no-no.

[daydreamgoddess14]

Sing Your Own Kind of Song

Tedbecca Prompt Party 🥳

Ted Lasso / Rebecca Welton

No. 75: Soulmate AU - When you get a song stuck in your head, it’s because your soulmate is singing it. Who's singing what at Nelson Road?

~~~~~~~

Ted woke up to Aretha Franklin's RESPECT stuck in his head. He put up with it all day, even had Beard raising an eyebrow when he sang it during the morning meeting, which elicited a giggle from Rebecca.

"Alright, Ted?" She asked,

"Just heard it on the radio this morning, that's all boss." He smiled reassuringly.

"Have you heard about this soulmate rubbish they've confirmed on the news?"

"That you're hearing whatever your soulmate is singin'? Sure did, Gigi Hadid. That's some interesting barbecue sauce right there."

"Isn't it just?" Rebecca mused.

"You believe it, boss?"

"Not quite sure what I believe yet, Ted. Guess I'll see how it all pans out."

"I hear ya, if it's good, then you can say you knew all along, and if it's a steaming pile of doggy poop then you don't lose face either."

"You know me so well, Ted."

"Time to get downstairs for training. I'll see you later?"

"Thanks, Ted. Have a good morning." Down on the pitch a short time later, Aretha was replaced by ABBA. When he cooked dinner that night, it was Diana Ross and the Supremes. When he brushed his teeth before bed, it was One Direction. He tried to counteract it by ignoring the song in his head and sticking with his personal favourite, Kenny Rogers, in the hope that this madness would all blow over.

He lasted a month. During that time, there were new romances popping up everywhere. Roy only needed Taylor Swift stuck in his head for a morning to realise Keeley had been singing in the car on the way to work. Likewise, he'd been to see the latest Top Gun movie the previous night with Jamie, Isaac, and Moe, and had woken up singing 'Highway to the Danger Zone'. Keeley thought she might have some detective work to do, but Taylor Swift had done her a solid when she overheard Roy humming Wildest Dreams. They'd been inseparable ever since. There were breakups, too - Beard and Jane had not been on the same page at all, and while Beard wanted to keep trying, Jane did not. Ted was stumped, though. Whoever his mystery singer was, they were an enigma. Songs ranged from power ballads to current pop, and from obscure TV theme tunes he did not recognise - what the heck was Bullseye?! - to showtunes. He was at a loss.

Weeks went by, and Rebecca grew impatient. Her secret soulmate was predictable. It had only taken her a couple of weeks to work out that it was Ted. He listened to a lot of the same artists on repeat, Kenny Rogers, Bruce Springsteen, Dolly Parton and more country music than she even knew existed. Dolly had given her the inspiration to accelerate her plan. She'd spent the time since weighing up whether she believed it or not. She told no one and instead set out on a little game. Each morning, she'd pick a random song or theme tune to sing - trying to get more and more random and wild each day. In return, Ted had been keeping a log - looking for any kind of pattern or consistency. He found nothing. Whoever his soulmate was, they had the most varied tastes. One morning, he wakes with an unfamiliar tune in his head. He can't place it, it's repetitive and sounds like it should be known to him, but he's none the wiser. When Nate whips out his phone to show Ted a clip of the football from the previous night's TV, the tune accompanies the clip.

"Nate, what's that?"

"It's a clip of Sam's goal from a different angle?"

"No, the tune?"

"Match of the Day? You've been here 3 years, and you don't know the tune to Match of the Day?"

"I watch Sky Sports." Ted shrugged. "Anyway, Match of the Day is popular?"

"It's been a staple of British TV for years." Ted mulled over what he'd learned and consulted his notebook where he'd listed weeks of songs. Adele, Whitney, Shania, showtune after showtune… whoever they were, they liked a strong voice. Then he spotted the little outliers… Geri, Mel C, Posh… they'd snuck the Spice Girls in there individually. This, combined with the Match of the Day theme, had him barrelling out of the office and up the stairs two at a time. He burst through Rebecca's open door to see her at her laptop writing an email and softly singing the Match of the Day theme.

"It's you," he said without saying hello.

"Took you long enough." She smiled.

FIN

[gnzma]

4, 6

salty munday ; ACCEPTING

4. What are some things you are tired of seeing in the RPing community?

[ girlies (gender neutral) it's almost 2024 and there's still problems with female characters. like. i'm not saying YOU HAVE TO PLAY THEM but yknow. playing with them and being at least open to the idea of shipping. maybe treat them like human beings. dont immediately consider them as annoying as soon as they're powerful or not perfect. yknow. ]

6. Your view on Mary/Gary sues?

[ okay starting with saying that i HAAAAAAAATE those terms. Especially Mary Sue, I've seen it thrown around against female characters who just happen to be, again, Not Perfect or god forbid more or just as powerful as other male characters, or oh my god have a perfectly good relationship with a man and therefore becoming The Enemy. it's an archaic and mysoginistic term that i hope people will stop using.

now. this said. let's answer this ask as it should've been put, so talking about. overpowered characters. i have 0 problems with overpowered characters. i have a few very overpowered muses myself that i tend to neuter for balancing reasons - be it by making them obnoxious like Green, or too emotional to win consistently like Silver, or giving them actual weaknesses in combat -, but if your muse is super powerful, that's cool!! i love strong powerful muses!! the real problem, for me, is that very small, yet INCREDIBLY loud minority of people that aren't playing them with the thought of "they're likely going to win", but thinking "they ARE going to win and there's nothing you can do about it". as i said in colress' blog, roleplaying is about compromising and talking to one another first and foremost, and you can't expect things to always go smoothly for your muse only because you made them "the most powerful character ever", and you can't expect to not deal with consequences if they act rudely or, ironically enough, too friendly with someone!! just like you won't be liked by everyone in your life nor will live perfectly and achieve everything ever at the first try, neither will your muse.

we're playing in a fandom where someone with a level 5 rattata and a lot of patience can take down entire leagues. if you want to write a power fantasy where everyone will always love your character, don't involve others ]

[unblemisheddesertflower]

aches: does my muse have any frequent aches? ie, muscle aches, joint aches? how do these affect them from day-to-day? // scars:  how many scars does my muse have? where are they located on my muse’s body? how did they get them? what do they look like?  ( for riju )

stress: does my muse handle stress well? what is a surefire sign for others to tell that they’ve become stressed? how does stress affect them mentally / physically? ( for etanna )

routine: does my muse have a consistent routine in their lives? do they find it difficult to stick to a routine?  ( for buliara )

Medical things

aches: does my muse have any frequent aches? ie, muscle aches, joint aches? how do these affect them from day-to-day? // scars: how many scars does my muse have? where are they located on my muse’s body? how did they get them? what do they look like? ( for riju )

Riju has the benefit of still being very young, so not too terribly. The worst regular pains she still gets are actually growing pains - she hasn't even hit her teen growth spurt yet at the time of totk.  As she gets older, she'll have the same electrical scars that most of her family gets at some point, though because she started when she was so young, most of the pain will be minimized. 

As for scars, she has a few dings and nicks on her arms and legs from the usual training chicanery, but the worst one she has at the moment is on her left calf. When Naboris started to rear up again, several years before botw took place, Riju snuck out into the night to try to scope out the situation - at least, that's consistently the story she's told Buliara. In truth, she absolutely would have fought it, but luckily, the combination of her seal sled being entirely too big for her to really handle and a rogue lizalfos attack stopped her before she could get too far into the desert. To her credit, she was able to successfully dispatch the monster, but it left a massive gash on her leg that, had Buliara not already been on her way, probably could have done much more damage than it did. She doesn't like to think about that night, but she is rather pleased with the scar it left - smooth, dark, and unbroken from her knee to her ankle.

stress: does my muse handle stress well? what is a surefire sign for others to tell that they’ve become stressed? how does stress affect them mentally / physically? ( for etanna )

Etanna looks like she takes stress well, but the truth is, she's not flexible. She'll hold strong in any wind, but if it gets to be too much, she'll snap. Because of this, stress tends to affect her physically before it does mentally. She'll stop sleeping as well, and get to the point where she can lie in bed for hours and not feel rested. She'll feel sore all the time, and even strain a shoulder if she isn't careful. She grinds her teeth constantly and it's worse when she's under deeper periods of stress, and the teeth-grinding usually leads to headaches. She can handle this all until a point, but if it goes on for too long, or something pushes her over the edge, it's a violent explosion of temper. She doesn't have the same difficulties with her lightning as Urbosa does, but her temper is significantly worse. She's lashed out at advisors and loved ones more times than she can count, and though she feels terrible in the aftermath and does her best to make up for it, she doesn't know how to prevent it. To her mind, the entire world rests on her shoulders and hers alone. If things go wrong, she has to be the first to bear the brunt of it, and she always goes down with the ship.

routine: does my muse have a consistent routine in their lives? do they find it difficult to stick to a routine? ( for buliara )

Buliara lives for routine. She comes from a military family, by which I mean both that her mothers were soldiers and that they ran the household like a barrack. She had two little sisters and routine was the only way to keep everything in the house in order when her mothers were away on rounds. Frankly, she has a bit of anxiety when her routine is thrown off, though you wouldn't know it. She's a very good actress, so things being thrown off doesn't seem to affect her as badly as she does. Generally she falls into bad habits to cope - she'll either over eat or skip meals, lose track of time, and at her very worst starts smoking again, though she mostly quit when Riju became her ward.

[hibiscus-tome]

FFXIV Write 2022, day 28: vainglory

Vesper Bay is as lovely as G’raha had expected.

There’s much that he’s read about the place in times accumulated over the years; there’s much that he’d heard from Cid, and then the Scions themselves, about what this place had meant to those who once considered it home.

An imposing statue of the town’s chief patron — a single tavern a couple streets away from the water — a dozen tiny shops and offices and homes lining the streets — a single, nondescript office by the water that extends so deeply underground that the sand and the dust will not touch them there.

“You remained here by yourself, all those months?” asks G’raha, as they descend the steps past the front desk.

“Thou presumest that I remained isolated here against my will,” Urianger replies. “I asked to remain here while the others relocated to the new headquarters in Mor Dhona. ‘Twas my choice alone, and one that went uncontested.”

It speaks to pattern that would repeat in his insistence to remain in Il Mheg. The difference here is that it had been a younger Urianger who’d made that choice — one ignorant of the tragedies to come.

—for when he made the choice to remain here, in the Waking Sands, he’d done so with Minfilia’s blessing. It had been a different Minfilia than the one the First knew — a person more so than a symbol of hope, dear to many but not all, and perhaps not wholly aware of the role she had yet to play in this tapestry of intertwined fates.

(A different warrior, fresh-faced, and not quite the Warrior of Light or Darkness, and unmarred by the many, many tragedies to come — a different Y’shtola, who had yet to be pushed to the sorts of extremes that would rob her of her senses — a different Alphinaud and Alisaie, fresh off the boat from Sharlayan and so very convinced that they could make a difference in this foreign land — a different Thancred, far too entrenched in the role the others had expected him to play that no one, least of all himself, had noticed when it had made him a target for Ascian interference.)

“Do you miss it at all, Urianger?” asks G’raha, pressing one hand against the cool stone wall of the Solar. “Those earliest days, when all the Scions had been together, I mean.”

Urianger hums, pacing behind the desk. “’Twas a different time altogether,” he muses. “To compare it to our current practices would be to draw an equivalency that may not exist to begin with. The Scions’ current processes have been defined by the near annihilation of our previous order.” His eyes narrow, as he averts his gaze downward. “By the untimely departure of friends and comrades we once held dear.”

What must it have been like, to meet in this room? To surround Minfilia at that table, to be in alignment towards a common purpose — an efficient machine, strengthened by the strong ties independently cultivated in each city-state by individual Scions. How much of Y’shtola’s work with the Night’s Blessed in Rak’tika had been informed by her work in Limsa Lominsa? How much of Thancred’s easy and consistent rejection of Eulmoran norms had been informed by his work in Ul’dah?

And what part did the Warrior of Light have to play in all of this, beyond what had been committed to the written record?

(Would G’raha have had a place in any of this?)

As if reading his mind, Urianger gives him a gentle smile. “I have no doubts, however,” he says, “that hadst thou come to us then, we would have welcomed thee with open arms.”

G’raha chuckles. “Your patience with me would have worn thin soon enough,” he says. “I was quite the vainglorious fool, back then.”

“Perhaps,” says Urianger, “yet thine presence would have been valued and respected, as would that of all others who’d pledged their lives in service to the same ideals.”

Were it anyone else saying the same, then it would be little more than pretty words — but because it’s Urianger, a certain warmth, comforting and secure, settles in G’raha’s gut.

“But to answer thine query,” Urianger continues, “yes, I do miss it sometimes. When I close my eyes and try to paint a picture of the comforts of home, of being surrounded by friends… ‘tis conversations in the Ocular of the Crystarium, as well as days spent huddled in this very building that appear with equal measure.”

“Regardless of the location, surrounded by friends both old and new…” says G’raha. He pictures Rammbroes’ camp just outside the Crystal Tower, in Mor Dhona — the Isle of Val, surrounded by fellow scholars — idle days in the Crystarium, Lyna at his heels throughout various stages of her life, all the artisans and crafters and guardsmen and apothecaries and beast handlers working together to make the city a safe haven for all who sought refuge from the Sin Eaters’ onslaught.

—and then: the Rising Stones in Mor Dhona, in a body both familiar and not, surrounded by friends connected across worlds, across timelines.

He takes Urianger’s hand in his, commits each line and callus to his memory. Let this, too, be something worth returning to — a source of comfort and warmth and security, that can only be attained in the presence of loved ones held most dear. “Come,” says G’raha. “Let’s go home.”

[ariveth]

SHIPPING INFO! ♡

Answer the following for your muse(s) so people know how shipping works on your blog. REPOST. Don’t reblog!

WHAT’S YOUR OTP FOR YOUR MUSE? Don’t really have one in terms of Skyrim NPCs! I guess I did consider Teldryn after I first created her, but the fit wasn’t quite right.

WHAT ARE YOU WILLING TO RP WHEN IT COMES TO SHIPPING? Honestly? Anything. Angst, fluff, smut, unhealthy dynamics, comfort, hateships; whatever! My faves are ships that promote character development (especially when it’s mutual).

HOW LARGE DOES THE AGE GAP HAVE TO BE TO MAKE IT UNCOMFORTABLE? As long as all characters are 21+, age gaps don’t matter to me at all.

ARE YOU SELECTIVE WHEN SHIPPING? I am, but only when it comes to the actual writing (I don’t ship based on faceclaims or lack thereof, and I don’t care whether a character is an OC or canon), and the quality of the character: I like complex, characters that have been fleshed-out with a strong presence, balanced strengths and flaws, and an established, consistent personality that I can bounce Ariveth off.

HOW FAR DO STEAMY MOMENTS HAVE TO GO BEFORE THEY’RE CONSIDERED NSFW? I think clothes-off is the cut-off, or intimate touching that becomes graphic in description. Depends on the thread!

WHO ARE OTHER MUSES YOU SHIP YOUR MUSE WITH? Basically all the characters she’s currently romantically involved with lol. There are also a few characters I can see future potential with too, for sure.

DOES ONE HAVE TO ASK TO SHIP WITH YOU? Not really, unless you want to plot a pre-existing thing! Chemistry is key, and that requires in-character interaction. If an interaction naturally ends up flirty/romantic in nature, I will almost certainly be keen to ship without having to be asked (though I do like talking about ships anyway, and about the characters, where we want them to go, how we want them to develop etc. tl;dr I’m a talker dkdflks).

HOW OFTEN DO YOU LIKE TO SHIP? Anytime, since I love shipping in all forms: flirtationships, flings, ex-lovers, star-crossed lovers; everything. And luckily, Ariveth’s character lends itself well to all of that. I’m just a lot slower to ship serious, longterm stuff because I like to get into a thread or two to test the dynamic first.

ARE YOU MULTISHIP? Sort of! I plan to have a single ship for Ariveth’s canon storyline, but I’ll consider multishipping in AUs.

ARE YOU SHIP OBSESSED OR SHIP MORE-OR-LESS? Gosh I literally don’t know dbfjsdhf. Both?? Let’s say in-between lol.

WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE SHIP IN YOUR CURRENT FANDOM? I.... feel like its controversial so I’m not gonna say lmfao

FINALLY, HOW DOES ONE SHIP WITH YOU? Ask me for a pre-established non-serious romantic connection, or just interact and lets see if it happens! Ariveth’s flirty nature makes it very easy to ship with her. 

As for endgame ships (and specifically Ari’s ‘canon’ ship): that’s something I’ll only consider doing after extensive writing. If our characters have already established chemistry and a romantic dynamic in more than one thread, and I feel like the other muse would be a good match for Ariveth, I will mention the possibility to you. This isn’t something I care to rush however, given the slight exclusivity it entails, and I want to make sure there's compatibility plus a healthy relationship/mutual investment with the other mun. I wanna be clear: I do not expect more time/effort be devoted to our ship than others at all (in fact I’d encourage equal investment among all your ships) but I’m very wary of committing Ariveth to a character whose mun neglects the ship or gets bored/goes through ships quickly. I prefer to have minimal yet quality ships. I hope you can see it from my perspective and understand my trepidation. I really want to be sure. If you ARE interested in this, interaction is the only route toward it; I will not pre-plot without proper development.

TAGGED BY: stolen off the dash  TAGGING: whoever sees this and wants to do it, steal it from me!

[closedcoffins]

@mellodiies liked this post to be forcibly given a baccano au!

i want to let you know before i actually get into this that i have literally consumed maybe 3 chapters of death note content. every single thing i know was from wiki scouring during my assigned favorites post and seeing you post about him. i know very little. i'm telling you this because i try to place crossover muses in as close to their canon situations as possible, but, you know. we're winging it i guess.

i've made the decision that mello would probably fit best as a member of huey laforet's larva. for context, from my "what's up with baccano!" post:

Larva: A group of humans working under Huey Laforet with slightly closer contact than the Lemures, who are privy to the nature of Huey’s immortality but not let in on all of his plans. Led by Tock “Tim” Jefferson.

the larva are kind of a funky little group, because it's implied that they're made up entirely of humans huey laforet picked up from bad situations as kids who are, like, "gifted kids" in some way. usually this means being incredibly intelligent, but he's also been known to try and scoop up kids who are notably strong, ambitious, or socially intelligent. either way, the group's made up of people who were either abandoned or abused in their past, or who just really wanted to do something cool and huey opened that door for them.

despite the fact that the larva become relevant in 1933 the slash, i think i'm going to say mello's first opportunity for plot relevance is in 1934 alice in jails. specifically the streets portion! i say this because we're treated to the fact that tim, the current leader of larva, is in charge of a group of lamia ( a subset of larva consisting entirely of homunculi ) in 1933, but those same homunculi minus one in particular are without tim in chicago in 1934. i think this could be a good opportunity for mello to enter the narrative, and he would therefore be caught up in the initial fight with graham specter, the siege on the russo family manor, the follow-up confrontation with graham at dolce, and the final siege on nebula headquarters to rescue 1-2 of the lamia. there are multiple ways he could go after this, but for further plot involvement i'd mark him down as following huey laforet after he and a couple of lamia homunculi rescue the homunculus of theirs that was captured by nebula.

because of this positioning, i'd also say mello is in a good place to have a large-ish role in the 1935 plotline ( i say large-ish because there are nearly sixty characters in total who appear in this plot; it's impossible for most of their roles to be overbearingly large ). since tim is also not a large part of the narrative, i'd submit mello to be one of the homunculi huey personally sends to the runorata casino-party at ra's lance everyone is attending, since huey himself has an as-of-yet unknown experiment he plans to carry out there. i'm not totally sure if huey would have TOLD mello what he planned to do, but he and the homunculi are primarily there to ensure that things go according to plan. he'd get to gamble a lot in the meantime and probably have a WHOLE HOST of frustrating interactions with some of the more intense baccano! characters.

[elysian-noctuary]

How each canon and oc muse feel about each other (JJK muses, Adrian)

bc this is my hell and this is what I think about when I have nothing else <3

Inumaki -- Tries not to show he's scared of Inumaki's technique, but is.

He knows that Inumaki means well, he's such a sweet guy.

Extremely thoughtful of the people around him.

Ino -- Ino is a very nice, chatty guy.

Can be a bit reckless, and seems to need a lot of practice with his technique.

His presence is nice and inviting.

Junpei -- It would never happen, but Adrian feels like the two of them should have a good deep talk and cry.

Probably one of the few people in the gang who could have a deep conversation. Inumaki being a second contender.

100% understands the pain and trauma Junpei went through, and sincerely wants to help.

Haibara -- My god, where has he been his whole life?

Being around him Haibara is like snuggling a freshly warmed blanket.

Feels the most comfortable trauma dumping on him out of any of the rest, besides Masoko. But still won't do it.

Masoko -- I mean... she saved his life. He owes so much to her.

After seven years living with each other, he's gotten used to her quirks and how to work around them.

Their personalities clash, yet they make such a good team.

I think they would fight each other on who saves the other.

Kumoshin -- Feels like he's gotta reel in the kid every now and then when he goes too hard in the paint.

Adrian can tell he's an extremely good kid; just needs some consistent guidance... that isn't Masoko.

Kiyoki -- He adores that she takes (life threatening) things seriously. Applauds her work in coming up with multiple plans. Guess it comes with the technique?

She's very bright for her age. Easy to work with.

Fearless. Strong. Capable. 100% recommendation for promotion.