#|| .............I still suck at tagging. :|

[crwbannwen]

I was writing this in the tags but I have too much to say.

So this absolutely. Don’t unwelsh my Mari Lwyd please and thank you

BUT I’d like to add some more:

As someone completely guilty of using the phrase ‘Welsh rap battle’ over pwnco. It’s because it’s one, a joke phrase I used to use even before it became more widely recognised, and two a more understandable concept I can explain to people without boring them with rhyme and meter.

I love my rhyme and meters, so trust me I knew how the pwnco worked when I use this phrase. I like saying ‘Welsh Rap Battle’ because I think it’s funny and emphasises how cool and charming I find my own cultural tradition to an English speaking person who wouldn’t know the tradition. It’s good to alter your language for people’s ease of understanding, it’s unfortunate that the joke caught on to people who don’t understand the pwnco. (And there is a limit to changing your language: it eventually does become altering something important too much for someone’s benefit).

I will also note here, while I use the phrase ‘Welsh rap battle’ to reinforce that I like the tradition, I also know people who were ashamed of the culture and tradition and used that phrase to make fun of the dead singing horse (same issue with Scots being called a dialect: cultural shame is a big issue in Wales even if we don’t think it is). Now the tradition is being reclaimed I doubt those people still see it as something to be ashamed of. But it’s something to keep in mind when using that phrase. Intentions do vary.

But my main point I wanted to adress:

Dysgais i Cymraeg fel iaith yn ail felly dw i ddim yn siarad cymraeg yn digon rhugl i fyrfyfyrio pwnco. Dw i’n gallu creu cerdd gydag amser ond beth am y bobl (cymreig) sydd ddim yn gallu siarad cymraeg o gwbl?

So while we don’t want to remove the Welsh from our tradition, we definitely don’t want to make the tradition inaccessible to our own people.

Learning a language is difficult. The education system sucks. Welsh second language a level is torture (I’d know, I did it. Average AS result in my class was a U, it was that awful). And not everyone has the means or the opportunity to learn Welsh so we should take care never to ostracise our own people. It’s more than unfortunate that we don’t all have a good grasp on the language. So having a set Cân-y-Fari that non-speakers or dysgwyr can learn and recite helps to both immerse them in Welsh and includes them in their own culture. Same with having art or an aesthetic. Maybe you can’t speak Welsh: but you can draw. That gives you a way to celebrate your culture still and I think that’s awesome. Even in English I couldn’t improvise a poem with a strict meter. The actual tradition of the Mari Lwyd is a seemingly unattainable level of fluency to most dysgwyr.

Obviously this still needs to coexist with the original Welsh tradition (not necessarily art though, if it’s a drawing of a Mari Lwyd then it’s a drawing of a Mari Lwyd. In my opinion art doesn’t need words unless the artist wants to add words). Traditions do change and that isn’t always a bad thing. In this case it’s not something we want to do, but it’s something we need to consider doing in order to help the non-Welsh speakers and dysgwyr be included in their culture.

There is an even larger issue here to be addressed with how we treat our own people as not ‘Welsh’ enough. Especially people who have mixed heritage. There’s a big racism issue that I could unpack here as well where non-white welsh students are made not to feel Welsh enough to deserve to be involved in welsh culture. Which should not happen. Similarly with half English Welshies. We need to stop treating ourselves like we aren’t Welsh enough; it only hurts us to be denied by our own people.

And as for Krampus comparisons, I bonded with a German friend over our different but similarly unique cultural Christmas traditions so I think that’s good too. I guess it’s the simplification of it that’s the problem

So I hate how the Mari Lwyd has been ‘de-welshed’. But personally, the ability for all of Welsh people to have access to it also needs to be considered in this discourse.

Still if the tradition completely shifted to English I would be so livid.

Edit: forgot to say, while I know the Mari Lwyd isn’t a cryptid, it is a cultural creature and I see no issue with people using that aspect of the tradition as a way to connect to it. The tradition isn’t only changing, it’s expanding. We just have to make sure it doesn’t drown out the original tradition

The thing with the Mari Lwyd, though, is that it's being... I don't know, 'appropriated' is the wrong word, but certainly turned into something it isn't.

Thing is, this is a folk tradition in the Welsh language, and that's the most important aspect of it. I feel partly responsible for this, because I accidentally became a bit of an expert on the topic of the Mari Lwyd in a post that escaped Tumblr containment, and I clearly didn't stress it strongly enough there (in my defence, I wrote that post for ten likes and some attention); but this is a Welsh language tradition, conducted in Welsh, using Welsh language poetic forms that are older than the entire English language, and also a very specific sung melody (with a very specific first verse; that's Cân y Fari). It is not actually a 'rap battle'. It's not a recited poem. It is not any old rhyme scheme however you want.

It is not in English.

Given the extensive and frankly ongoing attempts by England to wipe out Welsh, and its attendant cultural traditions, the Mari is being revived across Wales as an act of linguistic-cultural defiance. She's a symbol of Welsh language culture, specifically; an icon to remind that we are a distinct people, with our own culture and traditions, and in spite of everyone and everything, we're still here. Separating her from that by removing the Welsh is, to put it mildly, wildly disrespectful.

...but it IS what I'm increasingly seeing, both online and in real world Mari Lwyd festivals. She's gained enormous pop-culture popularity in recent years, which is fantastic; but she's also been reduced from the tradition to just an aesthetic now.

So many people are talking/drawing about her as though she's a cryptid or a mythological figure, rather than the folk practice of shoving a skull on a stick and pretending to be a naughty horse for cheese and drunken larks. And I get it! It's an intriguing visual! Some of the artwork is great! But this is not what she is. She's not a Krampus equivalent for your Dark Christmas aesthetic.

I see people writing their own version of the pwnco (though never called the pwnco; almost always called some variant on 'Mari Lwyd rap battle'), and as fun as these are, they are never even written in the meter and poetic rules of Cân y Fari, much less in Welsh, and they never conclude with the promise to behave before letting the Mari into the house. The pwnco is the central part to the tradition; this is the Welsh language part, the bit that's important and matters.

Mari Lwyd festivals are increasingly just English wassail festivals with a Mari or two present. The Swansea one last weekend didn't even include a Mari trying to break into a building (insert Shrek meme); there was no pwnco at all. Even in the Chepstow ones, they didn't do actual Cân y Fari; just a couple of recited verses. Instead, the Maris are just an aesthetic, a way to make it look a bit more Welsh, without having to commit to the unfashionable inconvenience of actually including Welsh.

And I don't really know what the answers are to these. I can tell you what I'd like - I'd like art to include the Welsh somewhere, maybe incorporating the first line of Cân y Fari like this one did, to keep it connected to the actual Welsh tradition (or other Welsh, if other phrases are preferred). I'd like people who want to write their version of the pwnco to respect the actual tradition of it by using Cân y Fari's meter and rhyme scheme, finishing with the promise to behave, and actually calling it the pwnco rather than a rap battle (and preferably in Welsh, though I do understand that's not always possible lol). I'd like to see the festivals actually observe the tradition, and include a link on the booking website to an audio clip of Cân y Fari and the words to the first verse, so attendees who want to can learn it ahead of time. I don't know how feasible any of that is, of course! But that's what I'd like to see.

I don't know. This is rambly. But it's something I've been thinking about - and increasingly nettled by - for a while. There's was something so affirming and wonderful at first about seeing the Mari's climb into international recognition, but it's very much turned to dismay by now, because she's important to my endangered culture and yet that's the part that everyone apparently wants to drop for being too awkward and ruining the aesthetic. It's very frustrating.

[cosmicdahlias]

Christmas Across the Rio Grande

Logan Howlett x Reader

MINORS DNI

Christmas has come and you’re spending it getting drunk with an old, hardened Logan.

tags: age gap, alcohol use, drunk sex, couch sex, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie

sooo timeline-wise this takes place at the end of 2028. i tried to do my best research as to when caliban comes into the picture and there wasn’t much, but from what i’ve read it seems logan recruited him some time in 2029, so he will not be in this fic. sorry for posting a christmas fic a day late, i only got the idea for this two days ago 😭

Life had not been the same in months. Charles Xavier, once head and founder of Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters, had developed dementia, leading to frequent destructive telepathic seizures. One such seizure became known as the Westchester Incident, leaving the school destroyed, many injured, and some of your fellow mutants dead.

Having grown up in an orphanage until aging out of the system and spending the first eight years of adulthood on the streets, Charles was the closest thing you’d ever had to a father and the school was the only place that ever truly felt like home. In such a short time you had lost both. Even though Charles was still very much alive, the dementia left him a shell of his former self.

After Westchester the United States government declared Charles’ brain as a ��weapon of mass destruction”, leaving you and another mutant to take him and go on the run, fleeing to an abandoned smelting plant in Mexico just across the Rio Grande.

The other mutant was the notorious Wolverine, Logan Howlett. For reasons unknown to you, his appearance had changed dramatically in the last five years. Despite not being able to age he looked like he’d gone from forty to sixty in record time.

Since escaping with you and Charles to Mexico, Logan had taken to going by “James”, his actual name, and worked as a limo driver in the border city of El Paso. He would regularly smuggle in the drugs to keep Charles’ seizures at bay.

In the days before Westchester you were never fond of Logan. He was a loner, seeming to keep everyone at arm’s length, save for those he would bed. Perhaps it was his tendencies towards promiscuity when he claimed to be in love with Jean Grey, a married woman, that irked you more than his personality.

He was passed around the mansion so frequently that from what you’d heard there were times he accidentally “double booked” himself. There was a part of you, buried somewhere deep, that harbored a resentment towards him for never seeking out your affections like he did for nearly any other adult with a pulse.

Living in close proximity since being thrust into exile with him had softened your opinions considerably. The shared trauma of losing everything and everyone had brought you two closer, as close as he would allow.

December was coming to an end. The nights were blisteringly cold and the winds only served to make them colder. The poorly insulated, run-down plant did little to protect you from the elements.

You were heading back inside from painstakingly, but successfully, attempting to medicate Charles. The heavy gales howled, making it a struggle to close the door before finally managing slam it shut. You turned around to see Logan sitting on the couch, bottle of whiskey in hand. He was wearing his typical non-work attire, a white tank top and jeans.

“He finally down?” He asked.

“For now, I swear those drugs used to knock him out for longer. He wouldn’t stop going on about Taco Bell for some reason.”

“Yeah, he uh… he does that a lot now.”

You gave a heavy sigh.

“It just sucks because it makes those moments where he acts like himself again hurt more.”

“What’d he say this time?”

“He just- I don’t know- whenever he actually says my name I know it’s him in there. Most of the time he calls me Jean, but I-“ your voice began to break “I don’t know how much more of this I can take Logan, watching his mind wither away into nothing.” You said, tears forming in your eyes.

For a moment you swore you saw a flicker of concern spread across his face.

“I’m thinking of bringing in some extra help.” He said.

“And what? We risk someone else knowing that we’re harboring a fugitive?”

“With me working that leaves you as the only one here most of the time. If god forbid something happens while I’m out and he hurts you, what then?”

You fell silent. He was right, you couldn’t keep caring for Charles alone when his seizures could be so dangerous and unpredictable. You had no rebuttal.

“Fine, but finding another mutant won’t be easy.”

“I’m well aware, but I’m done talking business, you look like you could use a drink.”

Logan extended out his bottle of whiskey, a rare invitation for you to join him. You smirked and took it.

“Look at you actually wanting to interact with someone for once.”

“Don’t make me regret it.”

You sat next to him on the moth-eaten couch, drinking a few shots worth from the bottle.

“Thirsty?” Logan asked with a cocked brow.

“Shut up, it’s been a long day.” You retorted, downing another shot and handing the bottle back to him.

Between the two of you the whiskey was finished within half an hour, leaving you significantly intoxicated, him slightly less so. When drunk Logan was far more open, and for the first time since Westchester you actually saw him smile. As the night progressed the two of you reminisced about life before Mexico and shared life stories you hadn’t told each other.

“A cage fighter?” You giggled.

“Yeah, went by Wolverine back then too.”

“Wow, too lazy to even try to come up with another name?” You teased as you looked down at your phone and read the time, midnight of the 25th.

“Oh shit, it’s already Christmas.” You said.

“Honestly wouldn’t have known if you didn’t say anything, the days just run together at this point.”

“No kidding, everything’s so different now.”

“… Yeah.”

A wistful silence hung in the air for a moment before you spoke.

“You know it’s hard not to miss the holidays back at the school… can’t say I miss Jean’s cooking though. I know how you felt about her, but that woman could not season food to save her life. I’m pretty sure she thought salt was too spicy.”

Logan gave a chuckle.

“Can’t disagree with you on that one.”

“I think what I miss most was seeing the kids all happy on Christmas morning, growing up in an orphanage I never got that for myself. Thanks to Bobby they always had a good snowball fight.”

“I miss that kid. Him and Rogue.”

“Kid? They were both pushing 40.” You laughed.

“They were kids when I met them and that’s always how I’ll remember them. Especially Rogue.”

“I always thought she saw you as like a father figure.”

“She definitely did, no matter how many times I told her not to.”

“I miss her so much, she was the first one other than Charles to make me feel like I belonged there. Fuck, I just miss all of them. It was only five years, but it was the best damn five years of my life, actually having something like a family.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean.”

You gave a wry smile.

“And in the end out of all of the X-Men to be stuck with of course it had to be you.” You teased, elbowing him playfully.

“You say that like it’s a joke, but you really had it in for me.”

“I mean I did, but you didn’t exactly come off as a nice guy.”

“I can be a nice guy, you just never tried to get to know me.”

“Would you have let me though?”

“Maybe.”

He looked at you in a way you’d never seen from him before, it made your heart do a backflip.

“You know, even if I wasn’t crazy about you back then I’m glad you’re here with me.” You said.

Logan raised a brow.

“Why’s that?”

“Because as much as I hate to say it, I’ve grown to like you.”

“A mistake honestly.” He chuckled.

A cold desert wind suddenly blew against dilapidated smelting plant. Frigid air crept in through the gaps in the walls, eliciting a shiver as it hit you.

“Cold?” Logan asked.

“Y- yeah.“

“Alright, c’mere.”

Logan pulled you against him, wrapping his arms around you. His body radiated an incredible amount of heat, a more than welcoming feeling in the bitter temperatures.

“Holy shit, you’re like a fucking furnace.” You said.

“Yeah? You like it?”

“God yes.”

His hands began to wander down to the small of your back. You traced the outline of his pecs with your fingertips. He looked at you, eyes betraying an intense desire as he cupped your cheek, coming in close.

“Merry Christmas, Logan.” You whispered as his lips met yours.

Starting slow and soft, Logan’s kisses quickly turned more passionate, a distinct hunger to them. He moved his hands to your waist, pulling you onto his lap. You felt his hard cock press into you through his jeans. You rolled your hips against him, causing him to let out a growl. He lowered his head, kissing and gingerly biting your neck. You moaned as his teeth scraped against the soft skin.

His hands began to drift to the hem of your shirt, gathering the fabric in his fingers and slowly lifting it over your head. He unclasped your bra, sliding the straps off your arms and tossing its aside. You watched his eyes take in the curvature of your breasts.

“Good fuckin’ god, you’re perfect.” He whispered, cupping one of your breasts and circling the nipple with his thumb.

Logan’s hands fell to your hips, tugging down your jeans until they landed on the floor with your shirt. His fingers circled your clit over your panties, the thin barrier of fabric did little to keep you from turning into a whimpering mess.

“Goddam, I love those little noises.“

Logan dipped his head down to kiss your neck again, you moaned and began to grind yourself against him.

“Hmm, getting excited there, princess? Feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Uh-huh.” You whimpered.

“Yeah? Let me make it feel even better for you, babygirl.”

Logan hooked his thumbs in the waistband of your panties, sliding them off your legs. He slipped a hand between your thighs, dragging his fingers along the slit of your dripping pussy.

“So wet and worked up for me.”

Logan returned his fingers to your clit, you dug your nails into his shoulders, the feeling of direct stimulation was almost too overwhelming. It had been far too long since you were last touched like this, or even touched yourself. You weren’t going to last much longer.

“F- fuck, I’m- I’m so close.”

“There you go, that’s it. Cum for me, princess.”

Logan pulled you into a kiss with his free hand as you came undone on his fingers, the electric pulses of your orgasm surging through you.

“Oh god, Logan.” You moaned against his mouth.

Logan kissed you aggressively as your orgasm faded. He dropped his head to your breasts, peppering kisses to them as he spoke.

“God, you’re so hot when you cum. You need to see what you’re doing to me, babygirl.”

Logan’s hands moved to his belt, unbuckling it, he unzipped his jeans and freed his already throbbing cock from his boxers. Logan took your hand in his, guiding it to wrap around his shaft. You gathered beads of precum from his head, using it to lubricate the length of his cock as you stroked him.

“Fuuuck, your hand feels good, but I need that pussy. You wanna ride me, princess?”

You nodded.

“That’s my good girl.”

You shifted yourself to hover just above is cock, sinking down onto him, barely taking more than his head before wincing as you felt his massive girth stretch you wide.

“You alright?” Logan asked.

“Y- yeah, just been a while. Not used to one this big either.”

“Then take it slow, princess. Don’t rush it.”

You continued to lower yourself onto his cock, following his instructions to go slow. A small shudder escaped his lips.

“Fuckin’ Christ, you’re so tight.”

You reached the hilt of his shaft, feeling him throb inside you as you began to lift and drop your hips.

“Attagirl, just like that. Nice and easy.” Logan said, his hands moving to your waist, pulling you closer.

“Christ, living with you was starting to drive me crazy. I could barely take seeing you in the summer, your ass in those little shorts. You don’t know how many times I had to jerk off because of you.”

You blushed and whimpered at the thought of Logan getting so worked up over you.

“Hmm, you like that, babygirl? You like knowing you made this old man stroke his fat fuckin’ cock to you?” He grunted as he grabbed your hips, thrusting up into you.

You nodded.

“Use your words, princess.”

“Y- yes, sir.”

“Good girl.”

You moved yourself up and down on his cock, sliding him all the way out until only the head remained before taking his full length back deep inside you. Logan’s eyes wandered over every inch of body. His hand moved to one of your breasts.

“Fuck, I can’t get enough of these tits, and this ass.” He growled.

He raised his hand and brought it down sharply on your ass, eliciting a yelp.

“Sorry, princess, couldn’t help myself.”

“N- no it’s okay, I like it.”

“Oh? You like it rough, huh?”

“Y- yeah.”

“Well, guess I gotta fuck you senseless then.”

In one swift motion Logan grabbed you by the waist, picking you up and throwing you down onto the couch on your back with him on top of you. You barely had a second to adjust to the new position before he forced every inch of himself inside you. He pinned your wrists above your head as he fucked you with a punishing speed.

“How’s that feel? Am I rough enough for you, princess?”

“Y- yeah. F- feels so good.”

“Attagirl.”

Logan’s breathing hitched, his hips stuttering.

“Christ, that tight little pussy’s gonna make me fuckin’ cum. Where do you want it, babygirl?” Logan panted.

“In me, I need you to cum in me. Please.” You whined.

“Jesus, I know you’re not on the pill, but keep begging like that and I’ll have to knock you up.”

“Oh god, please. I don’t care if we’re unprotected. I need it, fucking breed me.” You pleaded.

Your words ignited something within him. He thrusted furiously into you at a blinding pace, his breathing becoming ragged and heavy. He leaned down and sank his teeth into your neck and gave a loud growl, slamming the full length of his cock inside you as he came hot, thick ropes deep in you.

Logan gave a last few thrusts, his breathing beginning to settle. He pressed his forehead to yours.

“Jesus Christ, princess, it’s been way too damn long since someone’s made me feel that good. I hope you know this is not a one time thing, you’re fuckin’ mine now.”

You laced your fingers in his salt and pepper hair, kissing him passionately. He pulled out and you moved to dress yourself, but were interrupted by him grabbing your waist.

“No princess, you’re staying with me.”

He picked you up and carried you to his room, setting you down on the bed. He laid next to you, pulling you to him with your head against his chest. Between the exhaustion of the day and the warmth radiating from Logan, you felt your eyelids grow heavy. He kissed the top of your head as you drifted off to sleep.

[maevesque]

A/N: Ahahahahaha... Remember this post? Yeah, bye. I'm hiding after I post this.

@rafayelsheart tagging you, because... AAAA I fucking did it.

His voice is low and husky, tingling your senses as he brushes his lips along the outer shell of your ear, whispering softly, "wake up, kitten." And you instantly stir awake from your sleep, fatigue still clings to your eyes but you pay no heed to it as your eyes meet with Sylus's.

You smile, eyes sparkling in between the sleep-spelled gaze, and you look divine in his eyes. He pulls you closer, and without seeming, captures your lips in a heated kiss. Your tongues dance, tasting each other as he pulls you closer, hoisting your leg over his waist, making you feel his hardened member.

It's slow at first, your hand moving to wrap around his aching cock, stroking him slowly as you two continue your rhythmic dance against your lips. It's coupled with a beautiful thrum of his soft, puffed out moans. Oh, how you simply adored how he sounds melting in your hands like this.

"Kitten," he groans against your lips, "are you really going to continue teasing me?" His tone rough with desire and a morning rasp.

You smile, shaking your head, knowing that you can't stand teasing him any longer, not when you ache to feel him filling you to the brim so early in the morning. The thought of your bodies rocking to a steady rhythm as passion fills the air was a trip to ecstasy you didn't think you needed.

His hand trails down, fingertips drumming until he reaches your entrance, his long slender digit dip into you, slowly stroking your insides, one finger becomes two, and the third has you begging softly, panting against his ear.

"More, please."

Sylus smirks, his eyes darkening with desire.

"Since you asked so nicely." He says, positioning himself to your entrance, "are you ready?" He asks, wanting to ensure he doesn't hurt you, not when the light teasings are sprinkled with gentleness and care.

You nod, reaching back tug at one cheek, opening yourself more for him and he growls, his hand gripping your hips before pushing into you in a languid movement, drawing up a gasp from you that he swallows before he eases his head back, pushing his fingers into your mouth, that you wrap your lips around to suck your slick off, your eyes closing as you savor the taste of yourself on his fingers.

He groans at the sight, unable to help himself as he delves his tongue back into your mouth, greedy to taste yourself on your tongue. The kiss was hot, wet and simply messy, but that's something the two of you never seem to mind.

He continues pushing as he feels you adjust, your walls hugging him perfectly snug, he has to stop himself from coming right then and there. A groan tumbling from his lips once he bottoms out, a soft whimper escaping you as her walls squeeze around him.

"So tight, kitten," he grunts softly, his hand gripping your ass as he begins to move, his cock sliding in and out with ease.

Your whimpers being coupled with moans, fill your room with the sound of soft skin slapping against each other, and your pretty noises that Sylus absolutely adores.

He picks up the pace, his groans becoming louder, his grip on your hips tightening as your bodies move in sync, panting against each other's lips, swallowing each other's moans as he moves against you.

Your moans gradually grow in volume, a pleading, "harder," renews his fervor as he obliged to your request, his thrusts becoming harder, holding you in place by your hips as he pressed deep, deep, deep inside you.

The two of you get lost in tangled limbs under soft blankets, the sun continues rising as your bodies move in harmony.

"I'm... I'm close..." you moan as you grip onto his shoulders.

He rolls the two of you, now hovering as he uses this angle to piston his hips, easily hitting your sweet spot mercilessly.

"That's it, kitten," he grunts in between his encouragements and now relentless thrusts, "come for me."

And you do, a loud moan muffled the moment he captured your lips as you came, coating his cock with your essence, and he helps you ride out your climax.

Once you come down from yours, you pull him closer, your ankles locking behind him as the back of your feet pressing against his ass, making him press deep inside you once more. You trail kisses up to his ear and nip at the earlob, a pleading and sultry whisper, "come inside me..."

And who is he to say no, his eyes darkening once more, and even more so when you guide his hand to your neck, his brow cocking upwards as the smirk returns.

His long, slender digits curl around your neck, applying pressure when needed as he snaps his hips, feeling him nearing his own release.

"Come for me, Sylus..."

The smile you give him as he tightens his hold around your neck has him growling in pleasure, your breathless command and the squeezing of your walls has him spilling into you after a few more thrusts.

You hold onto him, clinging to him even, as he rides out his orgasm until it's spent. He takes care not to crush you as he wraps his arms around you, easing to the side to lay with you, and when you feel him slipping out, you squeeze your walls much tighter than before.

It makes him chuckle, brushing your hair behind your ear.

"Alright, alright... I won't go anywhere," he reassures you, a kiss to your forehead as he tucks your head under his chin, his own eyes closing as he hums softly.

"Rest," he commands, though his tone is gentle, "we can go out later."

He also makes sure that he adds black-out curtains on their list of things to buy before allowing himself to drift off to sleep to meet with her once more.

[creative-anchorage]

Tags by @melon-soda:

#THIS #i have so many thoughts fucking hell #people need to think about the kind of person it would make you into to go out of your way to harass others

#like no matter how much they suck or how bad they are you still shouldn’t cause problems with people you literally don’t fucking know #like...walk away from it. don’t add fuel to the fire that you never needed.

#also it IS ultimately the same line of logic many bigots use to justify their hatred of oppressed groups #you can argue its not the same bc its not bigoted all you want but it still makes you mean and tbh i find a lot of people fall down this #pipeline of sorts with it.

#the more comfortable you get being cruel in any sense the less accepting you are of those around you #at least in my experience

"Don't let the internet turn you into an asshole" didn't mean "find an acceptable minority of people to be mean to so you can continue being a bully" it meant. As a general rule of thumb. you should not be a dickhead to strangers on the internet

[buttsmasher]

Brett (Edited & Reposted)

Trigger Warnings/Tags: Face Farting, Farting on Tongue, Willing Victim, Mouth farting, Passing out from Farting, Gay Face Farting

Your hunger, it’s insatiable. This should disgust you but it’s all that you’ve ever wanted. You can smell his musk from here, and you’re literally salivating. You can’t stop yourself. You rip open Brett’s blue boxers and reveal his slightly fuzzy ass.The musk immediately intensifies and you dive in nose first.

You huff on his manly musk as you rub your nose all along his crack. “Someone’s excited.” Brett jokes as you continue huffing. “Don’t worry bud, we have all day. No need to rush.” He lightly scratches your head as you keep sniffing loudly.

PFFFFFFTTT PFFFFTTT

The first fart hits your nose and you sniff hard. All you want is that fucking scent in your body. You can’t get enough of the warm feeling on your face and you end up poking your nose right through his tight hole.

PFFFFBBRFFFTTTTT

The muffled fart shoots right up your nose and you feel your dick straining in your own boxers. You hungrily huff on that musky ass in front of you as your nose hairs burn from the toxic farts.

PFFFFBRBRB PFFFFTTT PFFFFTTTT

“I just don’t understand how you can be enjoying this.” He gyrates his hips and pushes your face around in his dirty crack. “I mean all the other faggots usually beg for mercy at this point. I’m not complaining, but you need some therapy.” Brett laughs lightly as he lifts his right leg up slightly.

PFFFFFFFFFFFFFFRBRBRBRBFFFFFFFFFTTTTTTT

Your eyes water as you inhale that long 15 second fart up your nose. Your whole body is shaking from the lack of fresh air getting into your system, and your eyes begin to cross. You briefly pull away sucking in a large breath before diving your face back into the disgusting ass in front of you.

You start licking up and down Brett’s crack getting to get a taste of the superior man’s musky ass. It’s disgusting, and you should be pulling away but you can’t stop yourself. It’s so addicting and that taste is overwhelming.

PFFFFFFFFBRBRBRFFFFFTTT PFF PFF

The farts hit your tongue as you start to swipe up your tongue. You didn’t think the taste could get worse, but as the farts burn down your throat you start to cough and gag. You pull away just for another second before pressing your nose right back against the dirty pucker. “Wow, took that like a champ didn’t ya. Open your mouth back up, I want you to taste this one too.” You quickly do as he says, even though you still feel like you’re about to throw up.

PFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF PFFFFFFFFFFF

The farts are airy, not much sound to them, but that doesn’t affect the taste at all. You’re in pure pig bliss as you swallow the farts down. You pull away so you can cough. As you cough you continue to stare at his perfect manly ass.

“Good piggy. Let the fart flow through your body. Let it intoxicate your mind. My ass is your god.”

“Yes sir.” You manage to get out between coughs. “Your ass is perfect sir.”

“Yes it is.” He takes his hand and gently guides your face back to his ass. “Why don’t you praise it with your tongue.”

Your mind is hazy, but you get what he’s telling you to do. You lick lightly at his pucker, as your hand gently squeezes your hard cock. Your right hand squeezes his ass cheek as you make out with your god. “Good piggy. Show your god your devotion.” You take your hand away from your cock so you can pull his cheeks apart giving you better access to his musky hole. “You’ve been such a good little piggy. Lay on your back so I can reward you.” You do as he says without question.

He sits right down onto your face making sure that your nose pops into his hole. He sighs contently as a silent fart gets pushed up your nose. “Good luck tryin’ to get away from my ass now.” Not that you wanted to. “Let’s see how long you can last without passin’ out on me.”

PFBFBBBFFFFFTTT PFFFFRRRRTTTTT

Two more farts blow right up your nose and you swallow them with ease. You instinctively reach for your dick and he slaps your hand away. “No touchin’.” He grinds his ass down onto your face.

PFFT PFFF PFFFFF PRRFFFT PFFF

Short farts start to assault your nose and you feel Brett moving above you. “Fuck piggy, I can smell those up here. Get sniffin’, I don’t want to smell my brew.” You inhale loudly, losing any of the fresh air you had left. Your mind gets hazy as you wallow in his ass stench. “Better, but I can still smell my ass.” He grabs your cock. “Let’s make this more fun.” His hand strokes your hard cock slowly. “If you cum before you pass out, then I’m gonna have to lock your puny cock in the cage for a week.”

PFFFFFFFTTTTTT PFBRBRFFFFTTT

Your face is warm and you’re having a harder time focusing on his words. Mixed with the fact that his hand is skillfully working on your cock. You’re already close to begin, but adding Brett’s hand, it’s dangerous.

PFFFFFFBRBRBFFFF PFFFFFFFFFF

You physically lose the ability to inhale anymore, and you just feel yourself starting to black out. Your mouth falls open as you completely relax your head against the ground.

PFFFFFFFBRBRBRF PFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFTTTT

You can hear Brett saying something above you but it doesn’t make sense. Then you feel it, you feel your balls start to constrict and you know you’re shooting your load. Your hips lift off the ground and you can feel cum land on your stomach. As soon as you’re gushing cum, everything fades to black. All you hear is Brett laughing and something about a cage. You probably won’t wake up for a few hours, but by that time Brett’s already shot his load all over your face and locked your cock in the tight cage.

[hollyhomburg]

Before I Leave you (Pt. 79)

(Sneak peek)(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: It's Hoseok's turn to breed you through your heat, but Namjoon won't let him have it easily.

Tags: Heat sex, knotting, group sex, Sub! m/c, Dom! Namjoon, Sub! Hobi, d/s, threesome, comparing knots, Cumplay, size kink, big dick Namjoon, womb fucking, belly bulge, slight inflation kink, breeding kink, clit torture if you squint, overstimulation, voyeurism, squirting, messiness kink, inspection kink, humiliation kink, implied cuckolding, very brief human furniture, implied puppy play, puppy space Hobi, collars, dominance displays, porn without plot,

W/c: 10.7k

A/n: ahhhhh here it is <3 the second part of last chapter that i split last minute <3 more filth but at least it's hobi filth <3 keep your eyes wide open on the ending! this one is a bit of a cliffhanger <3

Previous part - Masterlist - First part

Namjoon leans down, pressing a kiss to your nape. Meanly pressing in further, harder. You are so hot inside, the heat fever tearing through you now that you have a little food in your stomach and more energy to burn. Warm and wet and tight. Your eyes roll back and Hobi can do nothing but watch.

But Namjoon's pace stutters. It's understandable. This is the 5th knot he’s given you in as many hours. It's sometime after mid-morning and it's been probably around 30 hours since he's slept at all. Namjoon's only human. Even the pack alpha can't last forever.

Hoseok's honestly a little surprised that Namjoon hasn't tapped out yet, that his knot isn't ready to fall off.

But Hoseok watches his pace falter and Hoseok's lip lifts. It's an instinct to growl. Namjoon spies it, hackles raising.

Alpha instincts are a peculiar thing.

“You think you could do better?” Namjoon taunts, a little playfully. Arms bulging as he holds himself up, trusting harder into you. Almost in retaliation. Hobi blushes and looks away, successfully chastised.

Hoseok shouldn't be intimidated, Namjoon might be the pack alpha, but Hobi has still seen him put his shoes on the wrong feet before and leave the house- too many times to count.

The growl comes out of his mouth before he thinks better about it.

Namjoon stops moving.

Hobi clamps a hand over his mouth in surprise and the snarl becomes a whine. “Yes! No! Maybe- I think I-.” Hobi hovers unsure, bashful at being caught snarling at the pack alpha. Across the nest Jin lifts his head, woken up by it, hair all fluffy.

Namjoon is not one to let this kind of thing slide especially not during a heat.

Namjoon slides out of you, long and hard and hot. You whimper. You don't like feeling empty. You try to push back on him but are stopped by a hand pressed blank your pussy, Namjoon's fingers brushing your hole, fucked open and messy. Gaping just a little and dripping a pretty spiderweb like strand of cum down onto the nest.

You whine. Loud and grating. Hoseok's instincts make him want to gnash his teeth. It sets him on edge. Across the nest, Yoongi turns, distracted from his task of trying to convince Jungkook to suck on a straw instead of trying to suck on his dick. Alarmed at the sound of your whine and the desperation in it.

“Alright alright, calm down,” Namjoon says, kind of laughing through it, kind of high. Namjoon is the picture of restraint- he's not a knothead. He's not like Hobi. He doesn't snarl and push and fight at another alpha challenging him- No.

Namjoon looks at Hobi, a mean glint in his eye. Namjoon can get a little scary when he's got something to prove, even scarier when he's got a job to do.

Your collar is there by the edge of the nest, taken out when Jimin put on his, black with a golden puppy tag, the twin to Hobi's red one. Your pink one is showing its wear. It's worn at the hole in the buckle, the one that fits you nice and loose. Perfect as a handhold.

Namjoon points and Hobi gets it before he's even registered that he's following a nonverbal order. Flushing as he takes off the bell and then tries to hand it over.

But Namjoon just eyes your throat expectantly.

Making one sub-collar another is- well-

Hobi's hands stutter, shaky with anticipation as he tries to fit it around your throat. It takes him several tries to get it latched properly. Namjoon’s cock twitches as Hobi looks up for his approval. You push into his hands, purring loudly. No longer displeased at not being filled if you can teeth at the scent gland on his wrist.

Namjoon pulls back and away from you. Heavy cock throbbing and pulsing dully. There is a bit of whiteness, leftover cum, that covers Namjoon’s cock. Milky at the tip and pink. your pussy lips are also red and a bit inflamed from the ceaseless friction of his balls flopping forward and hitting where you’re sensitive. namjoon pries you open with two fingers, showing hoseok that you’re already so wet on the inside, full of Yoongi and Jimin's and Tae’s cum not just Namjoon's.

But not Hobi's, not yet. Namjoon should fix that.

Namjoon lets you go and reaches for Hobi's collar and puts it on him with out a word. so deep down in alpha space that even his teasing goes quiet. He tests the give of the collar, pulling hoseok this way and that until he’s satisfied with it. Hoseok whines at being pushed around, tugged almost until he falls over, but he lets Namjoon do it. Obedient.

Namjoon pulls him over to where he sits behind you, almost between your legs.

Namjoon palms blatantly between your legs checking with a dimply smile to make sure Hobi's watching. You mewl. But Namjoon just grins at Hobi. His fingers still hooked in his collar.

You mewl loudly and Namjoon puts his fingers back where you want them. His words summoned at last. "Oh don't be a brat, alpha's right here pup."

Hoseok's cock twitches at being manhandled, especially when Namjoon slides that hand down Hobi's midline, feeling him up and Hoseok lets him. Hoseok would let Namjoon do anything. he doesn't even flinch or growl when Namjoon pushes his thigh apart and pushes down his boxers. Palming his cock, examining him. Wrapping his big hands around it and testing where his knot will form. where it's already half popped. Rubbing at the sensitive skin and slight bulge with talented fingers that have Hobi panting in seconds.

It gives Hobi no small amount of pride that his hand does not cover all of Hobi's cock. He's still sizable. Hoseok's scent fluffs out a little stronger at that.

Namjoon has one hand in you, hooked into your hole to soothe you, and the other wrapped around Hobi's cock. he has both of his pups, right where he wants them. He tugs at Hobi's cock once, twice.

“Show me then, show the pack alpha that you know to breed.”

Coming Saturday December 28th @ 5pm EST (time Zone Adjustments Below)

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @steddieholidaydrabbles.

You'll Poke Your Eye Out

Prompt Day 25: Christmas | Word Count: 541 | Rating: T | CW: Lingering Upside Down Trauma, Language | Tags: Future Fic, Post S4, Eddie Munson Lives, Established Relationship, Christmas at Wayne's, Eating Nuts (Not Like That), Hurt/Comfort

Steve sits on the couch at Wayne's, a large stainless steel bowl in his lap, the nut cracker tool in one hand and metal pick in the other.

Eddie walks by behind the couch, brand new Polaroid camera hanging around his neck. It's been a full morning of Eddie taking pictures of anything and everything, laying the instant pictures out across every flat surface.

"You'll poke your eye out," Eddie says flippantly as he keeps moving. 

Well, that's not the plan, but if he does, maybe it'll have been worth it.

Because nothing, nothing, says it is Christmas like the big bowl of partially cracked open pecans on Wayne's coffee table. Steve had never had anything like it in his house while growing up. A big bowl of in-shell nuts, just sitting in the living room? His mother would have never allowed such a thing. The mess that could have even potentially been created would have given her hives.

Steve doesn't know where Wayne gets the nuts, or why they are such an integral part of the Munson family tradition, but he's grown to anticipate them every year.

The first time he'd seen the metal tools, they seemed kind of like medieval torture devices. Eddie had to show him how to use them: Putting the pecan between the metal claws, squeezing until the shell breaks. Then using the pick to dig out the meat. Eat. Rinse, repeat.

Sometimes it's walnuts, but it's usually pecans.

It gives him something to do with his hands, and he prefers that most of the time. He can't just sit still. Idle hands, and all that. Keeping his mind busy, even in this mundane way, is the best thing he's found to keep everything running smoothly. Steve knows Eddie bounced back from his tangle with the Upside Down almost totally unscathed. 

Steve didn't. 

That's not true. Not totally. 

He thought he was fine. The first year, even the second, he'd had no problems at all. But in time it snuck up on him, and knocked him to his knees. Eddie picked him back up, and he's been picking him up ever since. 

The physical scars he can deal with just fine, but the mental scars that were hidden away where he couldn't even tend to them fucking suck, and he prefers to keep busy.

So, today, he cracks nuts. 

When Eddie finally sits down next to him, Steve starts cracking them for him. One after another, handing over the small slivers of nuts, and occasionally entire halves in perfect condition. He'll be better at it by New Year's. The rust will be shaken off, and he'll be able to crack more without breaking them into small pieces. It just takes time to acclimate, he knows that and accepts it. 

It is what it is. Nothing is perfect, definitely not him, and he doesn't expect to be. Not anymore.

At the end of the night, he picks his empty shells out of the bowl, and tosses them in the trash. Eddie runs the Dustbuster around the couch, and it's like Steve never made a mess at all.

Tomorrow, Wayne will have refilled the bowl and Steve will start the process all over again, Eddie at his side.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddieholidaydrabbles and follow along with the fun!

Notes: I feel like I often explore Eddie struggling after the events of S4, but what if Steve felt it more? What if Eddie bounced back like a cat using one of his nine lives?

[gay-jewish-bucky]

Some amazing tags from @achaziel

#bringing this back bc people are being mean as hell today #listen i get it. it sucks being a minority culture during christmas. #many of the same things bother me as they do jews from solely jewish families #but i’m tired of the constant negging of things that are obviously for interfaith families #and the constant ‘i hate christmas and if you don’t there’s something wrong with you’ posts #and the constant blanket statements of how jews are spending the 25th #they’re basically just ‘if you’re a REAL jew you SHOULD be doing this!’ #there’s a difference between having cultural traditions and casting judgment on people who don’t fit in your box #sorry but i love my goyish family and i love celebrating christmas with them #and i’m not about to let a bunch of bitter motherfuckers ruin that for me #this is solely from a jewish/christian family perspective but i’ve noticed a lot of similar issues with other types of interfaith families #people treat us all like we’re strange and constant outsiders #they act like we’re not truly devoted to being jews #and like our existence somehow offends the rest of the jewish community #it can be as simple as calling a magen david tree topper antisemitic or as complicated as shunning interfaith families at services #but they both still hurt the same and they both need to be addressed #AND ANOTHER THING! #(bc i just reblogged but still have thoughts) #i also don’t like the need some seem to have to be like ‘love interfaith jews! but hate how all the decorations are interfaith…’ #like really? you think that’s supporting us? #maybe learn the difference between an actual useful and nice item for interfaith families and half assed jewish rep#bc these are NOT the same thing and i’m tired of us being treated like we’re something less than jewish#quite frankly an oy to the world pillow is not the same as a red pickup truck hauling a christmas tree that’s been painted blue #one is funny in a lot of interfaith households and the other is just laziness on the designer’s part #you don’t have to personally like an item to make the distinction between ‘not for me’ and ‘not thoughtful towards jews’ #if you think all you’re seeing are decorations for interfaith families you are either a) in the presence of the interfaith holy grail #or b) totally ignorant as to what it looks like to be in an interfaith family #our existence is not to your detriment and i’m sick to death of the underhanded ways people are finding to get away with saying that #it’s the same as my old temple that was welcoming on the outside but judgmental and honestly cruel towards interfaith families in reality

Friendly reminder that interfaith families with a Jewish partner and a Christian partner exist (as do many other configurations of mixed family structures), any holiday decor or greetings cards you see combining Christmas and Hanukkah is more likely than not intended for that specific audience. You don't have to like seeing the two combined, but when you go out of your way to make snide comments the only people getting hurt are people in interfaith families, not the companies making the products.

[spookythesillyfella]

and heaven knowz im miserable now

[captain039]

PART 2 Unconventional Alpha

Alpha!Viktor x omega!reader

Warnings: Heats, suppressants, AOB, light swearing, Viktor’s not dying but still disabled, reader has chronic pain, plus size reader, nesting, Older Viktor, Professor Viktor, artistic reader, age gap reader is in their 20s +

Just finished a 14 part fanfic. Immediately starts a new one xD

Previous part <-

It became a routine. Professor Viktor would meet you around dinner in the cafeteria, with the same question. ‘What is my work to you?’

And every time for the last week you’ve struggled to answer. You’ve tried to find ways the hex core was used in your life, time and time again you couldn’t find it, not till tonight. You stare at the heating pad on your bedside table, Hex Corp on the tab. You find yourself laughing a bit at the ironicness of it all. The one thing you use daily and you didn’t even notice was from Hex Corp.

It’s a Monday night and you sit at the same desk, you wait for a bit, but he doesn’t show up. Something inside you saddens before you push it away he’s a professor he’s probably busy. You pick at the rest of your food and sigh getting up and leaving.

You sit in your room writing a part of an assignment before there’s a knock at your door. Frowning you stand wondering who it is. You open the door your eyes going wide as you see Professor Viktor standing there.

“Professor” you greet he gives you a small nod.

“I’m afraid I missed our dinner” he says and you struggle for words for a moment.

“Right, no that’s ok I figured you were busy doing- Professor things” you shrug.

“Can I come on?” He asks and you notice he’s leaning more heavily on his cane and you feel bad. You nod quickly letting him in, he sighs as he sits down at your small table.

“I’m sorry for the intrusion,” he says.

“No you’re fine” you say realising your space is a mess. You gulp a bit noting dirty clothing scattered, notes, and art things everywhere. You notice a few of your dirty bras sitting out in the open too making you grow embarrassed.

“I uh- don’t get guests” you mutter quickly trying to hide your underclothing.

“It’s quite alright” he chuckles softly and the sound makes you feel warm inside.

“Drink?” You ask opening your mini cooler.

“What do you have?” He asks.

“I’ve got, coke, lemonade, iced tea?” You say.

“Water?” He asks.

“Yes I’ve got water” you say getting him a glass and handing it to him. He thanks you quietly taking a small sip before looking at your laptop and notes.

“Assignment?” He asks and you nod.

“Yeah, we have to do a quick essay on our favourite artist” you shrug sitting down. You take a small breath in and you’re acutely aware of how omega your room smells. You quickly glance to the alpha but he doesn’t seem bothered by it. Of course, he’s not why the hell would he be? You scoff to yourself mentally.

“Interesting, who is your favourite?” He asks and you snap back to the now.

“Uh, she’s an artist from Zaun, Antina,” you say.

“Ah, she’s got talent” he answers.

“You know her?” You ask curiously.

“Not personally but I know her work” his lips twitch a bit.

“Right” you mutter shocked he knew her seeing as her work was more fantasy-themed. A small silence pasts before he speaks again.

“Have you an answer to my question?” He asks.

“Oh, yeah, actually I do” You stand up and head to your bedroom picking up your heating pad and put it on the table.

“A heating pad?” He asks and you nod.

“It’s from Hex Corp” you answer.

“May I?” He gestured to it and you shrug nodding. He picks it up his fingers brushing over the tag. You feel yourself suck in a small breath watching his long but slender fingers move over the object.

“So my work to you is a source of comfort?” He asks and you shrug.

“Yeah, that’s- yeah” you stutter a bit.

“Hm” he says lying the heat pad back down on the table.

“You don’t seem thrilled by my answer, I’m sorry it’s boring” you chuckle a bit.

“Boring? Hardly, it’s endearing really” he says almost lost in thought.

“Endearing?” You frown.

“My work brings you comfort, relief, something I always wanted” he adds and you feel yourself grow warm at the words.

“Oh,” you mumble out. You shift in your seat a bit and watch his eyes snap to the movement making you freeze a bit. His gaze is intense only one produced by an alpha and it makes your heart beat faster.

“Thank you for the drink,” he says standing up.

“Right of course” You nod and stand too feeling a shoot of pain go down your leg. You curse and lean against the table quickly making him frown.

“Are you alright?” He asks.

“Yeah sorry- just pain” you shrug off straightening yourself up with a small sigh.

“I suppose I won’t see you at dinners anymore” you joke changing the conversation.

“Why not?” He frowns his face genuinely confused.

“Oh, I gave you my answer” you gesture to the heating pad.

“You did” he mutters a small frown on his face.

“I would like your insight though,” he says focusing on you.

“Insight?” You ask and he nods.

“I’m hardly smart enough for insight” you laugh off.

“You’re more ‘smart’ than you realise Miss Y/n,” he says in an almost defending tone making you tense a bit.

“I-ok” you mutter.

“I'll uh, see you tomorrow then” you offer and he nods seemingly happy with the answer before leaving.

“Goodnight,” he says.

“Night” you call. Once the door closes you sigh leaning against the table again cursing your throbbing hip. You grab the heat pad and limp to your room before falling on it.

Viktor closes his eyes a moment trying to clear his mind. The whole room had the sweet scent of omega and something entirely you. He’d always been well at hiding his alpha nature, priding himself in being neutral in such things. You though, you stirred something in his chest he hadn’t felt since a young adult.

Viktor had shown up at the cafeteria late, having been caught up in a council meeting. He dreaded the whole talk his mind not focusing, his mind wandering to you. He always enjoyed your talks, your complete lack of interest in his work intrigued him, to say the least. When he caught a glimpse of you in his lecture he knew he shouldn’t single students out but your dazed-off look and scribbling hand made him intrigued wondering what was going on in such a mind. His guess of art was easily placed, the smudges of lead on your hands the paint marks on your clothes, but you also had the creativity in your eyes, a different view of the world. Finding out you painted the picture in the council room made him even more interested, time and time again he found himself staring at it, your initials small in the left corner. He’d always been fascinated at the eyes, her eyes holding so much longing and love and his holding desperation only a man in love could hold. He found himself always looking forward to dinners with you, your casual free speech, not fawning over an inventor but instead speaking to him as a man. Your lack of answers to his questions always intrigued him, but your answer from tonight surprised him, he hadn’t expected something mundane and simple. He meant what he said finding it endearing, he always wanted to help the world be a better place, but hearing it from you made a difference, that he helped provide you with a simple comfort. It also stirred something foreign, the need to provide more comfort to you. He had to keep himself in check when he saw you wince and lean on the table quickly, he knows hidden pain all too well, the way your jaw was tense and the stiffness as you walked. It made something in his mind switch to needing to help you, he knows the pain isn’t new with the way you acted and he wonders what happened. He had stayed back when he heard the soft curse, his ear pressing to the door and the uneven steps you made. His fingers clenched into a fist forcing himself away, his second nature begging for release.

You arrive at the cafeteria a little late, having had to move slower through the halls. You see Viktor already waiting there a thoughtful look on his face. You smile to yourself at the look, his high cheekbones and straight rounded nose.

“Evening” you greet and he looks up. You sit down forcing the pain down as you sit with your food tray.

“Evening,” he says his eyes studying you.

“So, what did you need insight on?” You ask and see the small twitch in his lip.

“A new design” he says grabbing a notebook from his bag and flipping through the pages before laying it on the table.

“What is it?” You ask peering at it.

“A new heating pad” he says and you frown.

“What’s wrong with the normal ones?” You ask.

“They’re simple, anyone can make such a thing,” he says almost scoffing.

“Ok,” you chuckle softly.

“Infuse a little magic into such a thing and well endless possibilities are present” he says.

“Magic-infused heat pad?” You ask a small smile on your lips.

“I’m very serious Miss Y/n” he says and you nod trying to force your smile down.

“Please elaborate,” you say beginning to eat.

“Well, for someone with higher pain than most a simple heat device isn’t always enough, you need the heat to go deeper and soothe inside rather than the outside. So infuse it with something as a precision rune, and you have precise usage and targeted relief” His words make sense as he speaks.

“That’s pretty genius,” you say letting out a small chuckle of awe.

“You forget who you’re talking to” he says a small smirk on his lips.

“Right of course” You grin a bit. You fall into a comfortable silence of finishing your meals. You notice something though, the strength of his scent, you wonder if it’s just you but his scent smells stronger to you. You take a small breath savouring it for a moment before you realise what you’re doing.

“A heating pad isn’t exactly revolutionary though” you try to distract yourself.

“Why not?” He asks.

“Well I mean, you’re a man of progress are you not? You’re always bringing out big great ideas, I think the council will be disappointed with such a small item” you say shrugging a bit.

“You’re correct,” he says sighing pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I don’t mean to not make it- I-“ you sigh trailing off.

“You didn’t offend me” he smiles and it almost makes you freeze at the warmth in it.

“Call it a…personal project” he adds.

“Right” you nod feeling your body go warm.

“I should head back to my room” you say and stand up feeling a shoot of pain go up your back. It’s hard not to react, you’re due for a flare-up. You barely notice Viktor before you feel his warmth, hands holding you steady. Gods he smells better close up.

“What’s the matter?” He asks voice concerned. You have to take a small breath partly from the pain and from his closeness.

“My back- it’s fin-“You feel yourself freeze up at the hand on your back.

“You’re awfully stiff” he says his hand gently moving against your back. You look at him noticing the intense look of concentration on his face.

“Your muscles are tense and knotted too” he adds.

“Uh-“ you manage and his eyes flick to yours. You notice the rise of red on his cheeks before he clears his throat and steps back.

“Apologises, I should not have-“ he looks away with a frown and blush on his face.

“No, it’s-“You don’t know what to say in a situation, you just want him back close.

[sobbingscripter]

DAY 11: Eleven Pipers Piping

☃️A Star Is Born☃️

Tags: [mlw][mdni][analingus][ass play][oral (f receiving)][friends to lovers]

❄️☃️❄️

"You know, I always thought 'A Star is Born' was about the birthing of Christ."

Your voice breaks the quiet peace between the two of you, snow falling just outside your apartment window and the low hum of the space heater is the only sound other than the faint sound of Christmas carols playing from the apartment next door.

It's quiet other than that. The soft symphony of your quiet breaths taken in tandem as you rest beside him, backs against the sofa and your eyes absentmindedly watching one of those generic Christmas movies.

A woman travels to a new city, uptight and whatnot, meets a carefree guy who teaches her how to love.

But that peaceful reverie is broken when you speak.

The laughter tumbles from Jason's lips like a waterfall, piggy snorts and wheezes slipping out in the same breath, a delightful cadence and you watch as the dimples in his cheeks deepen and the corners of his eyes crease. He's still got a few bruises on him, a plaster over his nose and a cut on his eyebrow and his bottom lip.

"How the fuck did you—" He can barely speak before he snorts with laughter, watching as you shift in your position, visibly getting ready to defend yourself.

"Because like... The title sounds... Biblical, you know?" You answer and Jason shakes his head, that snowy streak in his hair a complete contrast to the inkiness of his hair, undertoned by a faint red.

"No, no I do not know." He snickers.

"Like... You know how the wise men followed the star? And the star seemed to like... Appear out of nowhere, or at least, it wasn't as bright? And like, I was like, 'oh, the star that the wise men followed to get to like, the miracle baby'."

Jason stares at you, a dark brow raised and arched as he listens to you ramble, motioning with your hands. Manicured fingers, that enunciate each of your points and those rosy lips, forming words that he has no intention of storing in the 1 megabyte memory card that is his brain.

"Jason." You snap your fingers in front of his face. "Are you even listening to me?"

"No I'm not." He hums. "You know, when you talk and laugh a lot, your eyes crease in the corners?"

Jason leans forward. "It's really sexy."

"...fuck—..shit.. don't stop..."

You feel like the bottom of the barrel. Allowing yourself to be bent over your coffee table, just because someone said your smile lines were sexy.

But you don't dwell too much on it because Jason's nose is nuzzling against your slick entrance as his tongue circles your clit. His strong, scarred hands spread your ass cheeks apart, and he spits down the cleft, watching the way your puckered hole spasms at the unusual sensation.

And Jason groans, pressing a thumb against the hole and slowly tracing it, just as he sucks your clit into his mouth, soft, pursed lips pressing adoring kisses to your needy pussy.

"Fuck, you taste so good."

Jason breathes out, long lashes fluttering as he continues to tease your ass, feeling the slow pulses and he groans, tongue diving between your slippery folds.

It's stupidly good, and you can barely focus on the drool that drips down your plump bottom lip in a thin glob, your mind too fucked out to realise it.

You're pushing yourself against Jason's face, your back arched and your hips wriggling because you just need something to soothe that little burning feeling in your gut. Something to fill up your empty cunt, that seems to ooze with slick, clenching around nothing.

Jason shifts, kicking your legs further apart and slowly, you feel your hole welcome something so.... Warm. And wet. And slippery.

Jason fucks you with his tongue, skilled fingers teasing your asshole while the other hand flicks across your clit, and he groans as you spasm on his tongue, slick sputtering out of you as he keeps tonguefucking you through your orgasm.

When Jason's tongue curls against your perineum, dragging the wet muscle slowly along your fluttering hole, you gasp. Nails digging into the sofa and your cheek pressed against the backrest and he hums, a laugh slipping past his lips.

"Maybe we should switch positions."

Jason mutters almost thoughtfully, broad hands massaging the globes of your ass, the fat of your hips and your thighs. And he presses a kiss to the small of your back.

His hands are rough but they're so gentle against your hands, as he guides you carefully, your knees pressing against the cushion of the sofa.

"Come on, pretty," Jason hums quietly, resting back on the other sofa, his broad body dwarfing the furniture.

"Pop a squat on Daddy's face."

[queer-of-hearts]

Yes! All of this! It makes me pretty emotional as an American. There are so many parallels. Swap out Magister class for the owner class in the US and a lot of it lines up.

The US sucks but the people? Well some of them suck too, lol

but also! pretty much everyone I've ever loved and cared about was born and raised here. Kind, caring, compassionate, community-minded, forward-thinking people grow from here. There's a revolutionary spirit that flows through so many of us. There's so much to love and so much to hate all at once. It's painful and beautiful and awful and lovely.

Neve Gallus and Shadow Dragon Rook sharing Tevene culture and all of the things they LOVE about Tevinter and it's people will never not make me emotional.

As an empire and a power, Tevinter has a blood-soaked legacy of harming bith the world and its own people. But the people themselves? Your average Soporati? The communities they belong too?

Vibrant, lively, loving. Traditions and stories and songs going back generations, growing and changing over the years.

I really feel like dance and communal meals are BIG there. Festivals during the Annums bringing whole neighbourhoods together in Minrathous.

Neve and Rook teaching Bellara a Tevene circle dance in the dining hall, singing a somg as best they can between laughter. Rook sharing foods recipes they love with notes from Neve and just... Letting everyone see the joy in their world.

[38sr]

I know this is gonna be a strange one, but I do have an industry question;

I've been looking for a job for the last 4 years post-grad, I've tried every bit of advice I've gotten over my 6 years in school and 4 years out. Is it too late for me?? Or more so what advice would you have at this point?? I'm starting to feel really negatively about this venture, and getting a day job has been just as difficult;;

Hello Sky! Hope it's okay to call you that. Ah post-grad job hunting.....I don't miss that period of my life at all. Before I begin, just want to preface that what I say going forward is strictly from my perspective/experience. I am not the absolute of the animation industry so if what I say doesn't align with you, you do not have to follow it haha. Alright, advice for post grad job hunting.... Well, I think I want to start off giving a bit of context for the animation landscape these past 4 years that has been rough for everyone (trust me it'll come back around to your question): 1.) COVID Pandemic

This one might be a confusing for some people because when COVID hit in 2020, the only facet of entertainment that was able to keep going was animation. If you remember, during this time streaming numbers went up because people were stuck at home, every studio was launching their own streaming platform (HBO Max, Disney+, Peacock, etc.) and celebrities were given animated shows because live-action had stopped dead in its tracks. This period allowed artists outside of California state to get hired because what's the point of capping the talent to the local area when we're already working remotely? In short, it was a boom. But an exponential boom rather than a gradual boom. You never wanna grow too fast because you'll crash out quicker (and harder) which leads us to our second factor.... 2.) Netflix's first ever round of layoffs in summer 2022, streaming actually isn't profitable?????

In short, this year is when Netflix's growth finally stopped and was the beginning of The Great Animation Contraction. Other studios who were looking to Netflix as a the new model of distributing/creating entertainment had realized Netflix wasn't invincible. As well as their business model. So naturally, they got scared and and take action (aka layoffs). I was affected by these layoffs while working at Marvel Studios and many artists got laid off at studios to save face from the mistake that was streaming (though at this point studios were still double downing on it). Also, around this time live-action was slowly restarting thanks to vaccines and social distancing protocols. So those celebrity studded animated productions dwindled down (and also they caused so much havoc for us animation workers because most of those celebrities had no animation production experience). Which now leads us to...

3.) Mergers everywhere! Yeah, uh, mergers fucking suck. People kept losing their jobs because companies kept absorbing into each other and multiplying their debts to ungodly dollars amounts! Apparently no one took a math class and understood if you multiply any number by zero you will always get a zero. These merger also caused more shows to get shelved and canned, making the job market even slimmer. And by then we get to 2023 and the....

4.) WGA, SAG and TAG Contract Negotiations By now, studios have realized that streaming is losing them money because it costs a butt load of money to not only create a streaming site, but also maintain it, update it, create new media for it, acquire established franchises for it, and maintain the current library. Streaming shows aren't being advertised like they used to on cable so shows don't last beyond one or two seasons. Worker contracts are becoming shorter and shorter (I had a co-worker who had a 3 month contract! Isn't that insane?). And what happens in the midst of this streaming meltdown?

WGA, SAG and TAG are gearing up for their contract negotiations. And as we know SAG (actors) and WGA (writers) did strike which good for them! But now there are no live-action jobs and once again, animation (TAG) is the only one running because our negotiations don't officially start until 2024. At this point, so many animated productions have been cancelled left and right for the sake of "saving money and cutting costs". And the effects were very much being felt in the animation work force. Some animation workers were starting to leave the state of California to more affordable cities, some getting day jobs as baristas, hell some leaving the industry all together. It didn't help that studios were kind of withholding production greenlights 'cause 1) they're greedy corporations 2) these strikes were putting pressure on them. And when we did enter 2024 for our contract negotiations, that contraction was at the tightest. The job market for animation had become so bone dry that you have director-level talent taking entry level jobs to stay afloat. But because of that new, emerging artists are blocked out from breaking in. Anytime a job listing would go up people would go in a frenzy and try every thing they could to get the job. That's how little shows were in production this year specifically. Of course, by now it is public that TAG has ratified the contract (meaning we will not strike). But up until then, studios were quite literally waiting with baited breath for the duration of negotiations. A ton of stuff was in development but nothing was getting a greenlight in fear of a strike. So many animation workers at this point have been laid off for at least 2 years, got priced out of LA county, or got so burned by the industry that they left for a more sustainable paycheck. At this point of the post you're probably thinking, "Why is she talking about all of this and not answering my question?"

And the reason for that is because I what to highlight you didn't miss your chance. You unfortunately graduated at a time where the circumstances were not good for breaking in for the past 4 years.

I'm not saying this to deter you from animation either. I just want to be transparent and honest about the current state of animation because it really has been bleak for the past 4 years. So it's not your fault but rather the industry was just in a seriously bad drought. Both emerging and veteran artists have been struggling to find work and when they do it didn't even last for 6 months. Hopefully, with the renewed contract studios will start greenlighting productions again so everyone isn't fighting for one job opening. But I can't tell 'cause I am not Raven Baxter haha. But what advice can I give during this tough time? Start developing your own projects. Things may be pretty dry right now but now is the time when you can create and develop your own original stuff that can be used in your portfolio. Short or long form, showing progress videos, just create. Because once you start working it's gonna be hard to find that personal project time (trust me I'm going through that right now haha). Also, you'd be surprised how just doing your own thing can garner the attention of someone who does have the power to hire you. How do you think I got to work on the shows I have in the animation industry? Almost all of my jobs happened because I was just creating my own thing and it just happened to match the sensibilities of a show produced by a Hollywood studio. And if I had any additional advice... it would probably be don't think that Hollywood is the only way you can tell your stories.

This one is more of....a recent revelation I've had after going through a pretty bad work experience but Hollywood isn't the only way you can be a storyteller. Whether it's comics, games, streaming, animation, or film....the Hollywood system isn't the end all be all. And by Hollywood system I'm referring to breaking into a big studio like Disney, Nick or something and trying to get your own movie/tv show to win an award or something. That system often works for a certain group of people and fails other groups. That's why I say develop and create your own thing because you might find something that fits your creative voice more than Disney or any other Hollywood studio. Maybe that's inconsiderate of me to say as someone who's been incredibly lucky to work in the animation industry for almost 8 years now....but I still wanna be honest that there are other avenues that isn't the Hollywood way. All in all, please don't give up or beat yourself up. The current state of animation within America was out your control and resulted in many artists struggling to find a job. You aren't too late. In fact, I would say now is your time to do your thing in preparation for when that hiring boom comes again (or you can just take another route to tell your stories). I hope that answered your question!

[f4ggydog]

no idea why im sending this but 🫡 just got out a decently long relationship. now need lottieshauna to rail the shit out of me so it can fix me and i forget this ever happened

HEY ANON IM SORRY TO GET TO U SO LATE IN SUCH DIRE CIRCUMSTANCES BUT DONT WORRY I DID NOT FORGET ABOUT U (and I do have the juice)

lottie and shauna love tag-teaming the shit out of you. it’s become their favorite hobby honestly. of course they can’t bring it up when a stranger asks them what they enjoy doing, but they can exercise their right to your body in the comfort of their home thankfully. lottie always starts out right in your pussy while shauna’s cock takes a rest inside of your mouth. you’re gargling through shauna’s heavy dick, your moans and whimpers getting muffled by the thick flesh as lottie hits your perfect spot. lottie knows where to angle to get you going. she knows where your g spot’s located and where your legs will buck and your eyes will roll back. it’s like she’s memorized your body like a book.

shauna, on the other hand, focuses on moistening her cock up. she rams into your throat, making you spit and drool onto her length. “that’s fucking right,” she growls. “let me use your pretty little throat. it was made for me anyway.”

meanwhile, lottie’s looking over and wagging her finger in only slight disapproval. “now now shauna,” lottie coos. “you don’t want to cum inside of their mouth so soon, do you? they’ve still got plenty of room in them elsewhere.”

“i know what i’m doing lottie,” shauna grunts, holding your hair tightly and kissing your forehead. “fuck, you feel so good baby. you’re such a pretty cocksleeve for me.”

“are you sure?” lottie raises an eyebrow. “you sure their asshole isn’t another perfect place for your cock? maybe even tighter than their cute throat.”

lottie leans in closer and presses a kiss to your face.

“not that you don’t already suck cock like a champ, baby doll.”

shauna obliges and removes her cock from your mouth, swiping your lips clean of spit. lottie continues pounding into your pussy, her balls twitching and her length’s musk mixing with the smell of your pussy juices. she whispers near your ear, “she’s gonna take care of you, lovely. just like I am, okay? just relax and loosen up that pretty asshole.”

shauna dives right in, her cock’s tip barely giving prior notice before she thrusts. you’re overwhelmed by both pain and pleasure, the sensitivity driving you nuts but also leaving you yearning. you want more, even if the pain catches up to you before the pleasure does. your head’s thrown back, your lips are bitten and your body’s spasming, an orgasm already approaching. but shauna soon withdraws her cock and nudges lottie. “let’s take turns on this cute slut. i get their pussy now. you promised that I could cum in their pussy yesterday?”

lottie nods in agreement, giving in to shauna’s demands. what you do know for sure is you’ll be walking out with cum pouring out of both your holes.

[ropebunnykant]

Apologies for the incoming essay... Re. Kant and choices and him choosing to involve Style - look, nobody's out here trying to say Kant's eligible for best friend of the year! But there does seem to be a lot of retroactive woobifying of Style, attempts to exempt him from the current tangled web, etc., when, lest we forget, he agreed to try and seduce a man FOR A CAR. He then proceeded to stalk said man, and to disrupt and exploit a grief counselling session FOR A CAR. Of course Kant shouldn't have involved him (but when your options are limited and you're desperate, you're not always thinking straight), but it was Style's own a) automotive greed and b) bruised ego (after their vehicular run-in) that got him where he is today. It was a bargain that he himself suggested - it wasn't even Kant's idea! Let's be honest, he could've just said nah mate, you're alright, and what could Kant have done about it? Style is not untouched by the taint! And that's okay - let him be messy too (the fact that he'd already had a couple of fraught encounters with Fadel even before Kant introduced them was a deliberate decision on the writers' part)! He had his own agenda going into this which he'd need to apologise for regardless of the added assassin shenanigans, and once he's in the know, he becomes as responsible as Kant for what happens next - they're both faced with the same choice: confess in order to try and keep the brothers out of jail, or stay schtum, despite their misgivings, out of fear for their own lives. And they both chose the same path. All four of them have been lying to each other from the get-go, for multiple complex reasons, some maybe more valid or understandable than others, but point is that none of them are squeaky clean and ALL of them bear at least some responsibility for the colossal shitshow that they now find themselves in! And that's what makes it good TV!

(I'd also like to point out something I find interesting, which is that Kant's rhetoric with Style has always been about looking out for number one - he tells Style he's doing it to clear his record, get those charges off his back, outside the restaurant he talks about having to prioritise saving your own skin over everything else, even though that makes him sound a bit cold...but he's not doing it for himself, is he? He's doing it for Babe. He's doing it because of the repercussions that would fall on his little brother's head if anything were to happen to Kant, whether that be jail time or an early grave (though I'm not saying he'd be a-okay with either regardless!). Babe has been his driving force the entire show (as yours and others' beautiful meta has explored) - Kant does the OPPOSITE of prioritise himself, and has done so since his parents died, and that's why HE'S in this mess in the first place. But, to the best of my recollection, he never invokes Babe when he's trying to win over Style, and I can't decide if that's because it's a line he won't cross (though he did sort of cross it when using Babe as an excuse at karaoke, or does that not count cos it was a lie?), or because he truly doesn't see himself as self-sacrificing so wouldn't even think to frame it in those terms to someone else. Or a combo of both!)

I think part of the reason the Kant slander (by which I absolutely don't mean legit critical analysis or taking the well-earned piss out of him!) bothers me is because I'm conscious that First is, at least to a degree, aware of the negativity (and tagged into some of it because ppl suck), which is why every time I look online he seems to be apologising on his character's behalf. And yes, it is in jest, but, knowing he's an inveterate people pleaser, I also get the sneaking suspicion it's also partly genuine, which makes me sad.

yeah, aaaabsolutely agree with everything you’ve said here. like i think the argument about style has more merit too it, but at the same time im still sat here thinking, what was kant’s other option? because bison gives him this stipulation: if you want us to date, you have to find someone for fadel. and kant cant just cut his losses and say okay, then i guess we won’t date. he has to get close, he has to get this information. so he has to involve someone else, retroactively. and we can argue about if he should have told style the full truth from the beginning, but not only do we see the captain specifically tell him not to do that, but i think kant is well aware it would not have worked if he did. style would have blown the operation out of the water way too soon, if he even agreed in the first place which the odds of him doing without having some investment into fadel would have been very slim! like it sucks, but realistically, what else could kant have done that would have allowed him to do what he needed to? what other choice did he have?

and like you said, style is far from innocent! none of them are innocent in this! thats the whole point! and that’s the big thing, too, because it’s meant to be this complicated messy thing. they subbed in the women from taming in the shrew for assassins because it allows for this intense sort of courtship that was brought on by misogyny in the play, while also allowing us to understand that fadel and bison aren’t innocent, either. that they’re all fucked up and messy in their own ways.

and yeah, i think getting into the babe of it all just isn’t something kant is willing to do for the most part. i think he tries to keep babe out of it as much as possible, but using him as an excuse to get out of there was the most realistic thing he could do, especially when bison has already seen that protective brother side of him. and i also think that kant just doesn’t view himself highly in general. he doesn’t think of himself as selfless or self sacrificing because he knows the awful things hes had to do in order to keep babe safe and in his custody - and while maybe for other people knowing it’s for babe would help his case, he doesn’t feel that way. because obviously he wouldn’t change it, but it doesn’t mean he liked doing any of it, that he likes the lengths he’ll go. especially when i think he thinks if babe knew, he wouldn’t like any of it, either. babe already didn’t like just the lying to bison. can you imagine what he’d think if he knew kant had drugged him once? if he knew all of it was built on a false start? kant probably thinks babe would hate him for it all as much as he hates himself for it.

and as for the first of it all, i do hope despite the media literacy some people lack in it all that he knows he did a fucking incredible job with kant. i say this as someone who has been making detailed posts about first’s acting since the eclipse, but i genuinely think this is his strongest and most nuanced performance. hes made kant so, so clear and easy to understand if you’re paying attention, and i love him so dearly for it.

[ispeakforthetrees19]

Puck Me

Summary: Hockey Player Levi and Figure Skating Coach Reader make a bet...who will win?

A/N: I can't stop writing this and I'm having too much fun with it to enjoy it alone. I suck shit at fancy Tumblr HTML and theme, but here it is.

This story is based on some of my own experiences as a figure skater. This will eventually feature smut, and I will update the tags as I go. I may update again this weekend. Thanks to my beta @nilfgaardianleviosa, as always.

Cross posted to AO3.

Tags: Levi Ackerman/Reader, AU-Modern Setting, Hockey Player Levi Ackerman, Figure Skater and Coach Reader, Enemies to Lovers, You know where this is going, this will be explicit in the future, 2nd person POV, female reader.

TW: bad words, fuckboys

Words: 2.7k

Chapter 1: Teaching Tots

You step out onto the ice with Petra, fresh and smooth after the Zamboni cleaned up from morning sessions. You bend your ankles, testing your laces to make sure they’re tight enough, and start skating around the rink, warming up against the cold air.

You do some basic footwork and finally you feel warm enough to take off your jacket, leaving you in leggings and a form-fitting long-sleeve shirt. Petra is at the boards when you skate up to hang your jacket on the side; she has her foot up, stretching out her hamstrings.

Public ice is pretty dead today, maybe ten or fifteen people in rental skates starting to get on and wobble their way around the ice as they cling to the wall. You smile at the toddler bravely making their way out to the center, holding onto the PVC pipe support that kids use to stay upright. His mom calls out to him, begging him to come back to where she can’t leave the wall, too unstable in the mediocre skates with limited ankle support.

“Wanna run through jumps?” Petra asks, smiling at you with her big, hazel eyes.

You shrug. “Sure.”

You and Petra each claim a side of the ice, doing crossovers to gain speed, running through your single jumps in order, then your doubles. You’re warm now, and you take off your shirt, grateful for the cool air to hit your arms and shoulders uncovered by the tank top you have underneath.

“Fuck, my double lutz is kicking my ass,” Petra complains as she finds her way next to you. “I just can’t get enough oomph on the entrance.”

“That’s because your toe picks are weak as fuck,” you laugh, pointing to her blades. “They aren’t big enough to really dig in and get you the momentum you need to get your ass in the air.”

“But your blades are so expensive,” Petra whines, looking down at your skates.

“Black Friday still happens for figure skaters,” you remind her. “It’s almost the holidays, why not put it on your Christmas list? Not like your dad can say no to you anyway.”

Petra laughs and pushes your shoulder. “Maybe I will. Hey, are you working on your triples?”

You grimace and shake your head. “A little. Waiting for the bruises on my hips to subside before I bruise them again.”

Petra’s about to respond when you hear loud voices whooping from across the ice. You turn to look at the hockey team getting on the ice and roll your eyes.

“God, the Titans,” Petra mutters. “Don’t they have practice later?”

You raise an eyebrow at her. “Tell me you aren’t already drooling over Ackerman being on the same sheet of ice as you.”

Her cheeks light up pink, and she shakes her head furiously. “No! It’s just—ugh, he’s so distracting.”

You laugh at her embarrassment, pulling her wrist to drag her away from the boards. “Come on, let’s work on our jumps before they take over the whole ice running drills.”

Petra pouts but follows, and you both run through some more doubles before the hockey team starts running exercises, tearing through the ice with their abrupt stops and deep edges.

Eventually, you give up trying to squeeze in practice and just skate around the rink with Petra, staying out of the hockey players’ way.

“I’m annoyed,” Petra pouts. “I wanted your help on my double axel.”

You shrug. “They’ll get off like thirty minutes before practice so they can gear up.”

“But the ice will be ruined!” Petra whines.

You laugh at her valid complaints. “Well, if you can learn to land a double axel on shitty ice, think about how well you’ll do in competition with fresh ice.”

Petra visibly debates your logic for a moment before nodding. “I can try.”

You’re about to suggest a break for hot chocolate and a protein bar when you hear, “Oh shit!” and something solid collides into you.

Arms wrap around your waist, and you turn mid-fall, your back pressed against firm muscle of someone’s chest as you go sliding across the ice.

“What the fuck?” you ask as the arms release you to roll onto the ice.

You look over to see Levi Ackerman himself, captain of the hockey team, groaning as he pulls himself off the ice. “For someone who looks as good as you do in tights, you sure weigh more than you look.”

You sit up, glaring at his smug expression. “Excuse me?”

“Just saying,” he mutters, getting to his feet. He extends a hand out to you to help you up and you swat it away, getting up yourself.

“Can you watch where the fuck you’re going?” you ask him bitterly.

“Can you? You know we’re running drills,” Levi says, crossing his arms at your rejection of his assistance.

“I was skating forward! You hit me from behind!” you protest. “How am I supposed to watch out when you sneak up on me?”

“Pay attention, princess,” Levi says mockingly. “It’s not just your ice.”

You’re absolutely fuming, ready to unleash on him, when you feel Petra’s hand on your arm.

“Are you okay?” she asks, noticing the snow in your hair.

“I’m fine,” you mutter, looking away from Levi’s piercing blue eyes. “Jackass knocked me off my feet.”

“Jackass?” Levi questions, irritation shining through his expression.

“Yeah,” you say emphatically. “Jackass. I think it’s perfect to describe you. Or do you prefer Captain Jackass?”

“Bitch,” he mutters, skating away back to his team who are carefully watching the interaction.

“Fucking hockey players,” you grumble to Petra, who loops her arm through yours as you start to skate around the rink again. “Think they own the ice. It’s not even time for their practice and they’re running drills, terrorizing the public skaters.”

“Yeah,” she says, unconvincingly. “Jerks. But hey, at least he broke your fall, right?”

You turn to look at her, mouth parted open in shock. “Seriously? He slammed into me from behind and you’re giving him brownie points for not knocking me unconscious?”

“Well,” Petra says sheepishly. “I saw him turn so that he fell against the ice and didn’t fall on top of you. He was going pretty fast.”

You press your mouth into a line, shaking your head. “You’re a simp, you know that? An Ackerman simp. He could burn this rink down and you’d still justify it, fawning over him.”

Petra protests and you giggle at her poorly crafted excuses. You shake your head, pulling her off the ice to the lobby, where it’s warm and loud.

“Hey,” your boss says, waving at you from the rental counter. “I know it’s not your day for Learn to Skate, but we need coverage on Saturday. Can you do it?”

“Miche, come on!” you whine, sighing dramatically. “I work two of the three sessions every week. Tuesdays and Thursdays. One day more than my contract actually says, because I’m so generous and nice.”

“It’s just the tots,” he says, eyes pleading.

“Miche, no!” you exclaim, unable to help the smile spreading across your face. “You know I hate teaching the little ones.”

“Come on,” he says. “I booked a trip out of town for Nanaba and I’s anniversary and I totally forgot she’s on Saturday rotation. Please, help me woo my wife and preserve my marriage.”

“Miche, you’re really a piece of work,” you sigh. “You know I can’t say no to helping my coach.”

“I knew there was a reason you’re Nanaba’s favorite,” he says with a smile. “Thank you so much!”

“You owe me!” you call over your shoulder, walking over to the viewing bench. “Man, I can’t believe I have to cover the tots. I hate that shit.”

“But they’re so cute,” Petra protests.

You groan at her utter betrayal. “No, they aren’t! They fall and cry, and cry and fall, for almost an hour. It’s horrible. I finally worked my way out of teaching tots.”

“It’s just one Saturday,” Petra consoles. “Plus, I’m on Saturdays too! We can get lunch after.”

You pout your lips out at her. “Fine. We can get lunch.”

Your blood is pumping as you skate down the rink, edges ripping into the ice as you precisely carve delicate swirls with your blades. Loud techno music plays over the speakers as you skate, all in perfect synchronicity with the other skaters as you do footwork.

“Faster!” Coach Pixis is sitting on the boards at the side of the rink, sipping from a water bottle that certainly isn’t filled with water.

You reach the goal line and circle back to run the same footwork back down the way you came. Power class continues like this for another twenty minutes until Pixis finally dismisses you, calling it “slightly less than abysmal this time”.

As he swings his legs over the boards to walk back to the lobby, you collapse onto the ice, chest heaving. Your best friend peers at you from where she stops beside you, eyes curious.

“You alright?” she asks, out of breath herself. Petra’s face is flushed after thirty minutes of on-ice cardio.

“So...sweaty,” you groan, enjoying the feeling of the cold against your overly warm skin. “Cold feels good.”

“You’re in a tank top, you’ll get ice burn if you don’t get up,” Petra chides. “Come on, it’s almost time for hockey practice anyway.”

You reach up a hand and she pulls you to your feet. You brush the snow off of your leggings and tell her you’ll catch up, grabbing your jacket and water bottle from the boards.

The hockey players spill onto the ice, immediately skating laps at high speed forward and backward around the rink, warming up. You purse your lips, annoyed that they couldn’t wait another fifteen seconds for you to grab your shit and get off, instead making it nearly impossible for you to reach the exit closest to the coach’s room, meaning you now have to walk around the entire rink from the bench.

You decide to wait them out, annoyed with their crappy behavior. You lean against the boards, your things in your arms, for the full five minutes, watching them, making eye contact, waving at one or two that you know.

They run laps until Commander Erwin calls for them to line up on the blue line in front of him. When he does, you leisurely skate behind the group of men to get off at the exit you wanted.

They all turn around to watch you, evidently surprised you didn’t chew them out like usual for doing this. You smile at them, your eyes finding Levi’s from where he’s smirking at you. You raise an eyebrow at him and exit the ice, feeling him watch you until you disappear behind the bleachers.

Petra is inside the coach’s room already, unlacing her skates as she sits in her assigned chair. You sit in your spot next to her, following suit.

“Ugh, did you see Levi?”

You roll your eyes at Petra’s simpering expression and wide, hazel eyes.

“Why are you such a simp for him? For any hockey player? They’re dicks and they smell bad,” you complain.

“Not Levi,” she says with a dreamy look on her face. “Remember? He helped me when I cut my hand.”

“He wrapped a dirty hockey rag around your hand and told you to stop bleeding on his ice,” you say flatly. “He’s not exactly a knight in shining armor.”

Petra continues on, dithering about how Levi is, in fact, kind of an asshole but if you look past his harsh words, sour attitude, huge ego, and generally rude demeanor, there’s probably a decent guy in there. Yeah, okay.

You slip on your tennis shoes and pull Petra out to the lobby, grabbing a Gatorade and a protein bar from the concession stand.

“Let’s sit on the bleachers,” Petra says, trying to be nonchalant.

“Because we don’t spend enough time here, let’s go watch the hockey players on our break?” you ask sarcastically.

But it’s hard to say no to Petra, with her wide eyes and pouty lips. So you cave, agreeing to go sit on the bleachers, grateful for the cool metal against your back as you lay against the bench. Petra sits at attention, watching the players skate up and down the ice, practicing formations and plays.

“He’s looking over here!” she practically squeals.

You roll your eyes, scrolling through Spotify for a bass-laden playlist to mentally prepare for spending an hour with the tots later this morning.

There’s a loud crash against the boards and you jump, nearly falling off the bench. You shoot up, glaring at the plexiglass, behind which stands a smug Levi Ackerman, smirking at you. He raises an eyebrow at you and shrugs, feigning innocence. How mature, hitting the boards to startle you.

Petra gives you a sidelong glance, a slight furrow in her brows as you roll your eyes at Levi who’s wiggling the fingers in his glove in a semblance of wave. For which you return a middle finger, setting off a round of laughs between his teammates.

You look over at her with a raised eyebrow, wondering what she’s so concerned about, but she shakes her head and turns back to face the ice, eyes watching intently as they start running drills.

Later, you teach the tots a fun fishing game, where they pull out fish from the ‘pond’ you drew on the ice with a marker, and then you teach them how to skate away according to the type of fish they caught. It’s nearly time to go, and the class has been surprisingly smooth.

However, as your last student pulls out a “big fish! So big and scary!”, and you all skate backwards away from it, doing swizzles on their unsteady little feet, your smallest skater falls.

Oh fuck, here we go.

He looks up at you with wide eyes, lip trembling as he clutches his hand to his chest. He’s two feet tall, you know he’s fine, but he thinks he’s hurt, so you let out a quiet sigh and kneel next to him.

“Oh bud, that was a big fall,” you say empathetically, pulling off your gloves and taking his ‘injured’ hand between yours. “You did great though.”

“I did?” he asks tearfully, clearly wanting to have a huge meltdown but also wanting to hold it together to earn your praise.

“You did,” you confirm with a nod. “You know what I do when I hurt myself from falling? I take a big deep breath, and I shake the ouch out. Have you ever done that?”

He shakes his head no, eyes wide, and you smile at him, a little charmed by his chubby cheeks.

“Hey, isn’t that the chick you nearly took out on public the other day?” Eren nods to the ice as he throws his bag over his shoulder coming out of the locker room. “Is she a coach?”

Levi looks over and sees you kneeling down on the ice, holding the hands of a tot who must have taken a fall. He watches you shake out your hands, and the little boy imitates you. You throw your head back to laugh at the boy’s enthusiasm, quickly wiggling his whole body, and take his hand to pull him back to the other tots who have been watching curiously.

You lead them in a line that snakes around the designated area until you reach the door of the rink, making sure they all get off and into the waiting arms of their parents.

He catches your eye, thinking about how pretty you look when you aren’t flipping him off or cussing him out. You give him a hesitant smile before you’re pulled into a conversation with one of the parents.

Eren is looking at him, mouth open as he watches Levi watch you. “Uh, hello?”

Levi looks at him blandly. “Yeah, yeah. She must be a coach if she’s teaching Learn to Skate.”

Eren raises an eyebrow at him. “You look like you’re down bad. For a figure skating coach, of all people.”

“Fuck off, Yeager,” Levi says, pushing him into the wall as he heads for the doors.