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kedsandtubesocks · 6 months

Text

this high of you & me

Lucien Flores x F!Reader

summary: Lucien Flores is your weed dealer and you think that’s about it

warnings/tags: 18+ MDNI. dealer!Lucien AU, drug use and discussion, shotgunning, sweet giggly moments, mentions of unspecified age gap (reader’s age is not mentioned but Lucien is older) reader and Lucien under the influence but he’s still a consent king, one use of ‘good girl,’ light making out

word count: 1.4k

a/n: I wrote this in a possessed fever after that clip & I know this might not reflect his personality once the movie comes out but I just had to I’m sorry, thank you to @lowlights & @tightjeansjavi for letting me scream about this and if you decide to read this - know I’m thanking you a million times

His house is an eclectic mess.

There’s a framed photo of Gustav Klmit’s ‘The Kiss’ beside a black light poster of a tiger. His awful leather black couch screams of a bachelor refusing to grow up.

“All I have to drink is bad tap water, ginger ale, or a mini grey goose sample.” Lucien yells from his kitchen.

“Uh, the ginger ale is fine.” You answer back.

This is the first time you’ve ever been alone with him.

Normally you’ve only experienced him with your best friend and his boyfriend. They’re the ones, through a friend of a friend, who introduced you to Lucien.

That’s how he became your dealer.

Now as you try to seem busy, you scan the book shelves in his living room.

There are many things that catch your eye -

The Alchemist by Paulo Coehlo, a very abstract but suggestively sexual mini sculpture of two beings entangled in a type of wave like motion, a clear quartz crystal and a cute elephant figurine.

The man known as Lucien Flores is no short close to a chaotic puff of smoke you think you’re never meant to catch.

Behind you, you hear him rearranging things on his coffee table.

“You gonna joint me, or not?”

His pun makes you snort.

On the glass coffee table sits your drink among a cluttered collection of things.

“You asked for the usual right?” He mutters preparing everything like someone out a check out counter.

“Yeah, but I can go after you give me the- ”

“No, no it’s all good.” He reassures quickly, cutting you off. “I got nothing planned and company is always nice.”

He packages up the weed in the typical baggies he uses. This time they're holographic blue, almost matching his charming but strange vibes in a strange way.

“What happened to the dragon ball z themed bags you had?” You ask jokingly.

“Ran out.” He pouts and you grin.

After separating and packing up everything, he moves to start grinding the weed. Then with a click on his remote his stereo flows to life.

Frank Ocean’s ‘Pink + White’ begins playing and illuminates the room.

Small talk comes. Lucien asks about how work is going, any new shows you’ve gotten into.

He’s charming, like a bizzare off highway tourist attraction you can’t seem to leave.

“No need to sit on the floor. Come on. Spots open right here.” Lucien grins patting the couch beside him.

“Your couch is a pain, hate how it sticks to me.” You reply with a scrunch up face.

“Maybe I want you to keep sticking to it?” He offers light and you roll your eyes.

Being a notorious flirt, you try not to fall under his sweet words spell.

You’re about to make a quip back until you see him yank out a fuzzy blanket and spread it across the couch.

“What a gentleman.” You dryly smirk and Lucien shrugs.

But you rise up to sit besides him, close but not comfortably so.

“How much extra is this gonna cost me hm?” You muse watching him pack the bowl.

“Don’t you know the old saying, pretty babes don’t pay?” Lucien remarks so effortlessly.

Your throat gets a bit dry and you’re thankful for the ginger ale wetting your lips.

The lovely glass pipe, swirled with so many unique colors like the silk button up shirts Lucien wears, is handed to you.

“You first.” Lucien grins.

He even lights it for you, a modern day chivalrous knight in his own fucked up unique way.

The first inhale is always a favorite of yours. The smoke fills you, tickles your senses. But you can’t help but cough a bit.

“That’s the good stuff, huh baby?”

The phrasing and how smug his voice purrs out is dangerous.

“It’s one of the new strands I’ve been wanting to try. S’called ‘girl scout cookie.’ Pretty sweet name huh? But kinda makes me wish I could eat some right about now, ya know.” Lucien rambles as you hand the pipe back to him.

You at least appreciate how talkative and alluring he is. Between passing the pipe back and forth to him, you’re pulled into discussions about aliens, music and then, YouTube videos.

“No,” you giggle. “You gotta see this one.”

“If it’s another sad cat video I’m gonna cry and kick you out.” He pouts and you’re overcome with the urge to lean forward and kiss the furrow in between his brows.

You can’t deny how handsome he is. Like, ridiculously so. You know he’s older but there’s a youthfulness to him that’s reassuring. Like his spirit will always stay free. But you know that also seems dangerous after hearing about the list of exes he had from your best friend’s friend.

So very cautiously you tread into this new territory, whatever it is.

You lean closer, hold your phone up and show him your favorite go to funny video.

You can’t even stop the giggles. You wanna blame the weed, but it’s so hard not to laugh even without it. You’re overcome with glee and lean against Lucien’s shoulder. His shoulders shake and you hear the most adorable twinkling giggle.

He’s laughing.

“See!” You urge. “Told you it’s funny!”

“It’s not that! It’s you! You’re making me laugh.” He wheezes out and your heart flutters.

“Then I’ll stop laughing so you can stop laughing and watch!” You reply back determined.

So pressing your lips together, you rewind the video. You and him stay silent. Or you try to. Your lips twitch so terrible wanting to break.

Then Lucien’s shoulders shake again. In seconds you’re both busting out laughing. Your poor phone is forgotten.

This time he howls with an infectious joy and you feel it in your gut, in your bones.

“You weren’t supposed to laugh!” You chide him through the giggles.

“You weren’t either!” He cackles.

You realize you’re practically draped against him, and Lucien even fully leans back into you.

The smoke, the drug, coats everything in a smokey soft haze and with the high creeping its way into your mind, a molteness seeps into you

Lucien smells so good too, clean, cozy, but also like a cologne you wish you could pinpoint.

“Thanks, it’s dolce and gabbana.” Lucien replies.

Your face ignites in flames realizing you must have spoken your thoughts out loud.

You’re about to scramble out from this mess when you peer up and find Lucien staring. His earth soil eyes, softly dusted with a rosy color, hazily watch you.

“Y’smell good too.” He mumbles back.

“Thanks, it’s my fabric softener.” You tell him.

Lucien busts out laughing, a bright firework of a thing and you once again get caught up in how wildly warm he is.

Shaking his head he shifts to grab the pipe.

But his hand slides to rest against your thigh, like it’s a small way of saying don’t move, don’t leave.

And you don’t.

“You wanna try something fun?” He offers.

“Sure.” You don’t know what you might have just agreed too.

Lucien maneuvers, slides his large warm hand to your face and your heart stops. He tilts your head towards him and his thumb softly rubs against you.

“You trust me?”

The soft lull of Frank Ocean continues playing in the background softening this world around you.

You don’t even know if this man has a middle name or not, but you know him enough, or mainly, find yourself wanting to melt more into him.

So you nod quietly.

“Good girl, just keep your mouth open.”

That line takes your breath away.

You have an idea of what’s coming, but even with that, you crumble.

Lucien inhales from the pipe, filling his mouth with smoke. In a blur he moves. It’s like you blink and he’s all around you.

His hand on your face, his body pressed up flush against you and then, his face slowly moving towards you.

With his lips open, he breathes the smoke into your waiting mouth and your eyes shut in bliss. His lips graze against yours, a tease.

You inhale on instinct. Yet your hands move on their own, possessed, to run against his warm broad chest.

Once the smoke is in your mouth and you hold it in, allowing this mixture of the smoke and him to consume you. You also don’t miss the way Lucien himself breathes out.

Then before you can close your mouth, he lets his tongue gently swipe at your top lip, a kitten-like lick.

But it’s divine.

When a soft whine escapes you, Lucien effortlessly dives in to kiss you, cradling your face and steals your breath away again.

Making out with your dealer could probably be one of the dumbest decisions ever. But he’s a unique high of his own, one making you so dizzy, but you think you don't want it to end just yet.

So you melt into this smoke and into him.

And it’s otherworldly bliss.

#I’m so sorry this took over and it’s probably mess but I had to #but here’s to Lucien bringing us into a frenzy I love you #Lucien Flores x reader #lucien flores x you #Lucien x reader #Lucien Flores x f!reader #dealer!Lucien #Lucien 🤎

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klausinamarink · 5 months

Note

Oop let's try this again; for the birthday fics: “Because you’re a jinx!” angsty Steddie established relationship, chasing fame Eddie and some guy Steve who gets discovered while Eddie's band keeps being passed over? Platonic hellcheer and platonic Stobin.

I couldn’t find a way to put in the platonic ships but it’s still Steddie. Enjoy the angsty flavour electric boogaloo.

It was supposed to be Eddie’s lucky day.

This was supposed to be his time. The moment when the rich suits would look at Eddie and immediately offer him the contract that finally pushed his music to fame.

But it was just another fucking mediocre performance. Only a few people out of the dozens in the crowd cheered, but that was worse than getting no response at all. Nobody even went up to them for an autograph, their numbers, Instagram handles, music samples, anything that would’ve made the night worth it.

Eddie stayed silent and seething for the whole drive home. The rest of the band left on their own respective vehicles, though Jeff had lingered longer to say something that Eddie mentally filtered out. Probably some shitty encouragement or a call to quit.

His hands tightened around the wheel. Eddie felt the pulsing headache crawl to the back of his eyes. Goddamnit, he needed to sleep.

Maybe in Steve’s arms, but for once, Eddie just wanted to be alone for tonight.

After he parked the car and trudged the stairs back to his apartment, Eddie bit his lip until he tasted the sting of copper.

He was so tired. Not just physically, but in very foul shape that took its claws into him. It was the apathetic crowds and uninterested advisors. How the rest of the band delayed practice more and more. The bland methodical act of cutting up another piece of his shrinking soul as a muse for his lyrics.

But still. He was close to that single star of recognition. Eddie had to taste it.

Unlocking the door, Eddie kept himself from collapsing until he dropped his guitar case and landed face-first on the couch.

In the bedroom, he could catch some muffled conversation, the floor creaking as Steve paced back and forth inside.

Eddie frowned and checked his phone for any missed messages. Steve hadn’t texted him since five, soon after Eddie had left for the worst night of his life. It was almost eleven now. So why was his boyfriend still up and talking to someone?

Before Eddie could try and get up, the door opened and Steve came out, his phone in hand. Steve glanced up and stopped in his tracks when he saw Eddie. He gave a bright smile.

“Hey, babe! You okay?”

Eddie groaned. If he had the energy, he could scream into the pillows.

The floor creaked as Steve approached and gently laid a hand on his back. “Was the band okay?”

Eddie groaned again, unable to hold himself back from pressing against Steve’s hand. He could really use a fucking massage. Or some quick, stress-relief sex. “It’s fucking awful. It’s always fucking awful.”

Steve made a sympathetic noise, “I’m sorry to hear that, Eds.”

Eddie lifted his head up and peered at Steve. Despite his words, there was an odd light in Steve’s eyes and his lips were fighting desperately not to smile.

“What is it?” He asked.

Steve had the nerve to look spooked, “Uh, well, I don’t want to ruin your mood-”

“What is it?”

Steve stared at him for a moment before he sighed like it was the start of a serious discussion.

“You know that audition I did back in Chicago two weeks ago?” Steve bit his lip. It only revealed the cracks of excitement on his face and Eddie already knew what he was about to say. “Well, my agent called and said that I’m officially casted. I’m gonna be in a HBO show!”

Record scratch.

Eddie only stared at Steve as the news hit him with the speed of a truck. When he saw Steve’s smile in full glory, he only saw blank faces who spat at him with rejection and disappointment and ‘try better’s.

How the fuck does Steve get so many gigs when Eddie could barely find an open venue in advance? And now he’s going to work for fucking HBO, Jesus Christ-

Steve was frowning at him, “You- are you not happy?”

“Of course, I am!” Eddie said quickly. It felt hard to speak when there was something now stuck and burning in his throat. He got up from the couch and walked to the kitchen. He needed a drink. Maybe not alcohol, though tempting. But some actual water but he was too exhausted and sober for this shit.

“I’m always here to support my wonderful and talented boyfriend who never misses an audition. Who always gets a spot in whatever he plays in, even if it’s a fucking diaper commercial or a glorified extra who gets five more cents than his less impressive boyfriend.”

As he spoke, his words became more tinted with venom. Eddie took an empty glass and filled it under the tap. He almost choked from gulping it down in one go. It cooled his throat, but the burning simply expanded through his veins.

“Okay, you’re mad.” Steve said slowly, now behind him.

Eddie laughed bitterly, “Yeah, no shit, Sherlock. They taught you that in acting class or was it a trick from your last ex?”

“Jesus, okay, Eddie.” Steve put his hands on Eddie’s shoulders but Eddie shook him off with more force than necessary. “You’re obviously in a bad mood and my news isn’t making it better, but you did ask and-”

Eddie whirled around. He was seeing red at the corners of his vision. “And now it’s my fault?!”

Steve backed away, his hands up in a plea of surrender. His face pinched with concern and hurt. “Eddie, let’s, let’s just go to bed. Take a shower-”

“Stop treating me like I’m a child!”

“Fuck, even a child would tell me what’s making them this upset!”

“You wanna know why I’m so upset? Huh?” Eddie smacked a hand against Steve’s chest, pushing his boyfriend away. “Take a guess with your ‘subtlety’ talents and maybe you can fucking figure it out.”

“No, I- Eds, baby-” Steve stopped to take a breath. He looked back at Eddie with more firmness, but he saw the way Steve’s ego was crumbling in his eyes. “Can you please just tell me why are you acting like this? Was it because I did something or-?”

Eddie’s anger flared. It touched the back of his mouth so he spat it all out like a dragon. “Oh, everything you do with your squeaky clean and easy career is the reason why I’m pissed at you. You get all of these stupid roles to play some stupid character Twitter would make discourse for while I have spent the last three years trying to find someone who’s willing to listen to my band play in a goddamn studio! But I keep missing these opportunities for some reason that I’m starting to think that we’re cursed or shit.”

“Eds, it can’t-”

“And don’t you say you know how it feels like because you never knew how to fucking fail, Stevie! Everything you do is just rich executives giving you silver platters. I bet they all want that Harrington blowjob.”

Steve gasped softly and shook his head. He now had his arms around himself like it would protect him. “That’s not true- Why are you even saying these things to me?!”

“Because you’re a jinx! Because you’re Steve Harrington and I hate your dumb luck!”

Eddie’s words echoed across the apartment as he breathed heavily. He wouldn’t be surprised if it went out the windows and into the streets.

Steve held an unbelievably idiotic expression. Mouth half-open, a slack jaw, glossy eyes that just stared at Eddie without any more light shining in them.

Finally, he spoke so quietly that Eddie had to strain to hear, “Okayâ€¦ I’m going to Robin’s.”

With that, Steve hurried out, having some decency to not slam the door.

And then it was just Eddie, alone in the kitchen with the nasty thoughts and words that would soon bite back at him.

#the klaus birthday special #klaus writes #steddie #stranger things #klaus answers #hurt/no comfort

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imliketheiceifreeze · 1 year

Text

Human Miles Quaritch x reader

Good girl-part 1

warnings: smut, swearing, minors DNI

4,491 words

PART TWO

background info:

you are a 25 year old botanist, closely shadowing Grace Augustine when you are forced to spend time with the very man you and your whole department despise in order to be granted access to a mission on Pandora; can you come to an arrangement that would suit you both?

You were deep in thought as you worked side by side with the great Grace Augustine, in her element as she sampled plants, her findings surprising even herself. It seemed the connection between Pandoran flora and the planet itself was much more intertwined than you ever would've believed.

"Can you believe it, ranger rick is requiring you to go through his bootcamp before you're allowed on the next mission, he'll delay the whole project, and with my best scientist too,"

Grace huffed as she paced back and forth in the lab, retrieving varying pieces of equipment and samples in a panicked flurry.

"What?"

You hissed lowly.

"Yeah you better believe it, I want you to kick that asshole in the balls if you get the chance,"

she growled, exasperated with the head of security's constant meddling in the science department, a place he didn't and would never understand.

"But why, why me?"

You whined, almost dropping your pipette at the thought of the horrors that man would put you through to ensure you were 'mission ready.'

"You're the only scientist that's not been out in Pandora yet, apparently it's part of a new safety regime, personally I think he's just doing it to get under my skin,"

she continued, finally ceasing her bustling around the room in a panic, settling one hand on her hip as she pondered all the possible solutions.

"I'd say.."

You mused in turn, the room falling silent as you both thought.

"Well I guess I'd better buck up and kick his ass,"

She laughed at the though, oh you were going to beat that man if it cost you your life

"Haha, and do it in the next week if that's alright,"

Grace chuckled a long, obviously amused at the thought of finally putting such an arrogant man in his place.

"Oh you bet I will."

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

You were informed that you would be attending daily strengthening and sparring sessions with the Colonel, in order for him to assess your abilities, your first session starting that very evening.

"God, I really don't want to do this, it's bullshit,"

you moaned aloud, head in hands as you addressed the table full of colleagues, all sympathising with your predicament. You hated the smug man, always wearing those stupid tank tops to show off his-admittedly muscular- arms, smirking at everyone like he was better than them.

"You never know, maybe you'll enjoy it,"

someone wiggled their eyebrows making you gag dramatically, pushing them playfully.

"If I ever enjoy that man, I want you to shoot me in the face,"

you deadpanned, making the table erupt into laughter once more, you, however, did not laugh, being deadly serious, and instead decided to distract yourself by shovelling food into your mouth as if you might be at risk of starving. That was until you felt a large hand gripping your shoulder, turning your head to find its owner, your eyes were met with a cold stare belonging to Colonel Quaritch.

"Y/N,"

he grinned, squeezing your flesh whilst his eyes tracked your movements like a predator watching its prey.

"Colonel,"

you seethed, ripping your shoulder from his grasp as if his touch burned, eyes still locked onto his, waiting for him to reveal his reasons for interrupting you important meal. He simply tapped his watch as he eyed you.

"I believe our first session is upon us,"

he spoke slowly, that same smug smile painted across his face, the one you knew he wore only to cover up his aggression.

"I need to change,"

you spoke dumbfounded, as if it were his fault and not your own poor timekeeping skills.

"Well you better hurry up, I expect you at the gym in 15, don't make me wait,"

he scolded, waltzing off like a peacock as your eyes dragged up from his heavy boots to the back of his head, hoping to burn holes in it.

"For fucks sake,"

you mumbled, pretending to bash your head in on the table before swinging your legs out from the bench and half jogging out of the hall, ignoring Grace's yell to 'not have too much fun', causing a scowl to pinch at your eyebrows, yet you had no time for a witty comeback. For as confident as you were talking shit about the Colonel to Grace and her colleagues, when faced with his looming presence, you couldn't deny the fear that prickled down the back of your spine, especially when he looked at you like he was about to eat you.

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

"Well well well, any later and I would've made you drop and give me 100."

He teased as you sprinted in, bent over and panting before the session had even begun. You said nothing at this comment though, suddenly feeling a little shy being in such an enclosed space with the intimidating man.

"You do any sports Y/N?"

He questioned, his tone now serious as he cocked his hip, one hand resting on his belt buckle.

"I dance a little."

you answered, causing a flash of surprise to cross his features as he clapped his hands together.

"Great, good to know you're not completely sedentary like the other science pukes,"

he laughed making your nose wrinkle in anger.

"Now first is fitness, so I want you to run laps around this room until I tell you to stop,"

he instructed, nodding his head at you expectantly as you groaned in annoyance, starting up another jog and beginning to fulfil his wishes, albeit reluctantly.

The man was gruelling, having you shaking after only the 'warmup' was complete, now looking up at him incredulously from your hands and knees after he'd forced you to show him another 20 press-ups.

"Gotta say, I'm impressed, most the other tree huggers would've tapped out by now,"

he grinned causing you to rise up shakily with your fists clenched at your sides.

"Yeah, well I'm not a quitter,"

you spat, holding his intense gaze, your words only seeming to amuse him further.

"Hm I can see that,"

he nodded with an unreadable expression.

"Go and get a drink, when you come back we'll start with some basic self defence,"

he grunted, watching you jog over to your water, taking greedy gulps from the bottle, the sweet relief from the burning in your throat making you moan in delight, eyes fluttering shut at the feeling. Once you'd moved the bottle from your lips, your eyes shot to the side, suddenly aware of the Colonel's intense gaze, making you feel exposed as you wiped the water dripping from your chin hastily so as not to make a mess. He coughed to ease the silence before speaking again, more softly than usual,

"You ready?"

You nodded, walking swiftly over to his side, ready to receive instruction.

"Your daddy ever teach you how to punch?"

He asked condescendingly, making your eyes narrow, your body acting before your brain could comprehend, throwing an admittedly feeble, hit to his jaw that he blocked with ease, a deep laugh ripping from his throat as he did.

"I'll take that as a no,"

he jibed, doing nothing to dissipate your anger.

"Come on stand properly,"

he tutted in annoyance, using one leg to kick apart your own before moving your arms up to your face.

"Keep these here to block,"

he grunted, placing one hand on your hip, causing your breath to hitch at his closeness.

"When you punch with this arm, twist from here to give you power,"

he manoeuvred one of your arms with calloused hands to show what he meant, his grip surprisingly gentle on your waist, causing your body temperature to rise exponentially. You'd never really had the chance to look at him up close until now but he wasn't bad to look at, you wondered if he had a wife or girlfriend back home. Then it hit you, what you were feeling for a man you'd always claimed you hated, yet in that moment all you wanted was for him to bend you over on that gym floor and take you for all you were worth.

"You got that darlin'?"

He stifled a laugh at your obvious staring, you looked like a deer in headlights as a crimson blush crawled its way up from your neck to your cheeks.

"Yes sir,"

you breathed, voice barely above a whisper, his presence starting to affect you much more than you'd hoped. He stood back, letting go of you, much to your dismay, as he raised both palms, flat, either side of his face.

"Come at me then."

You sat back in a lunge, placing your feet like he said before and twisting your body to land one punch to his left palm.

"You call that a hit, go again,"

he growled, causing you to come back harder.

"Better, again."

His lesson continued on much the same, with him ordering you to punch quicker, hold yourself stronger, all while he didn't seem to be breaking a sweat, those blue eyes following your every move.

"Sir, how is punching your hand gonna help me survive Pandora?"

You whined, tired out after half an hour of relentless jabs.

"You questioning my teachings doll? what do you suggest then huh?"

You rolled your eyes at his condescending attitude, ceasing your assault on his reddened hands as you sat back in your hip to think.

"I want to spar,"

you concluded suddenly, causing a choking laugh to rip from the man above you, his chest heaving with the force of his amusement.

"You, want to spar with me?"

He accentuated the words by pressing a finger into your sternum before pointing back to himself, a look of disbelief settled into his features as he waited for a response.

"That's what I said isn't it? Or are you scared?"

You teased, catching your lip between your teeth as a devious smile crossed your lips.

"Oh that's how you wanna play, alright then lil darlin', do your worst,"

he stepped back to allow you room to attack as he positioned himself, eyes tracking your body movements like a fox. You wanted him to attack first to give you the upper hand but you could see he wasn't going to give you the satisfaction. So you did what you knew you could, lunging towards him you threw a fist to his jaw, but like the last time he caught your wrist, using it to lock your arm behind you and pulling you into his chest.

"I thought I already taught you how to punch,"

he mused, pulling your arm tighter, causing you to moan in pain as you struggled against him.

"Obviously not well enough,"

you seethed, lifting a leg behind you to crash a foot into his crown jewels, as per Grace's request.

"Ah you little shit,"

he grunted, falling to his knees with the pain, dragging you down with him as he pushed you onto your elbows and knees, his own body caging you to the mat as he breathed heavily against your ear.

"Looks like you're mine,"

his husky voice graced your ears making a poorly suppressed shiver wrack your body, able to feel his body heat so well through your back, it was driving you crazy. Instead of squirming out of his hold you dropped limp against the mat in submission, turning your head to the side to meet his eyes.

"you're heavy,"

you moaned in aggravation, wondering why he still had you pinned to the floor. At your words he removed himself swiftly, sitting back on his knees with a groan, but before he could rise to standing, you had spun into a crouching position, launching yourself at the Colonel to throw him off balance, falling back onto his ass with a grunt. You bounced into a straddling position before sliding your hips to lean against his chest, pinning all your weight into one arm pressed against his neck as you shuffled around to keep your balance. What you didn't expect was one large hand flying to your hip, gripping it like a vice as Quaritch closed his eyes in pain.

"Jesus Christ, stop moving Y/N,"

he all but groaned making your face heat up, suddenly aware of the intimate position, especially when his fingers began to rub slow circles on your hipbone, as if to calm himself. Once opened, his eyes were lazy as they watched you, settling on your face but flicking down to where you sat on his hips once or twice.

"Not that I mind, but you planning on sitting there all day?"

Quaritch smirked, both hands now resting either side of your hips as you sat up, frozen in place by his unwavering stare. Snapping out of your daze quickly, you scrambled out of his lap, heat now throbbing in your body at his suggestive words.

"Oh no you don't."

You heard a voice ring out before you were, once again, pinned to the floor, this time on your back, with the colonel above you, his elbows resting either side of your face as he leaned down to whisper against your ear.

"I think this means I win Darlin',"

his voice, his body, his lips brushing your earlobe, it was all too much for you and you turned your head away from him letting out a pitiful whine as your core throbbed, begging for attention.

"What was that baby? I couldn't quite hear you,"

his voice was strained, now directed against your neck as his lips ghosted your skin, letting them press a few gentle kisses here and there on his journey to your shoulder. You really couldn't help the way your back arched against him desperately or the feeble noises that escaped your mouth.

"Colonel, stop,"

you panted, one arm coming up to grip his back, tugging him in hopes he'd press himself closer.

"Stop?"

He spoke surprised, pulling off of you almost completely as he took in your blushing form, it almost made him laugh how quickly you'd submitted to him in spite of your fighting talk.

"Hmh stop teasing me,"

you whispered in embarrassment, arms coming to cling at the sides of his tank top as you eyed him needily. At your words Quaritch ground himself a little into you, making a moan slip past your lips as he leaned back over, kissing along your jaw and sucking at your pulse causing your breath to hitch, hands still clamped around his shirt.

"Oh I'd never tease you baby,"

The Colonel cooed, pulling back swiftly to yank off his tank, contrary to his words, watching the way that your eyes raked across his naked torso with pride, before reattaching to your neck, teeth grazing your skin occasionally as you writhed in his hold. The tension of the situation was becoming too much for you to bear when you brought your hands up to his silver hair, running your nails across his scalp, pulling a groan from his own lips.

"Then kiss me,"

you breathed, tugging his hair to pull him from her chest, wanting to look at his handsome features once more. Those stormy blue eyes pierced into you as you admired him. You'd never admit it but those scars that marred his face made you so much wetter. You reached a hand to run against the raised lines through his hair, his intense gaze never faltering.

"Yes ma'am,"

a whisper of a laugh left him before he leant down to capture your lips in his, the shock of the sensation making you moan before his mouth began to massage your own. You were lost in the feeling of him and once he slipped his tongue through your lips, you knew you were done for, the warm muscle licking softly into your mouth as his hands gripped your hips, rolling them against his own. You were thankful that your wanton moans were muffled by his mouth as you crumbled against him, one leg wrapping around his waist to pull him closer as you ran your fingers through his short hair.

"Easy girl, you do that and I can't guarantee I won't fuck you right here."

He grunted, landing a soft spank to your thigh, but you were well passed self respect.

"Hm please, please, I can't take it,"

you whined, drunk on the pleasure Quaritch was giving you.

"Fuck, you're driving me crazy,"

he groaned in frustration tipping his head back.

"You want me to fuck you right here, where anyone could see you, such a fucking whore baby,"

he snarled, pulling at his belt to open the clasp, his words made you whimper though, worried you might be acting too desperate.

"com'ere,"

he spoke, more softly this time at your forlorn face, pressing a kiss to your lips as he fiddled with the button of his trousers, unzipping the fly and pulling out his half hard cock before stroking it in front of your wide eyes to bring it to full mast. It was thick and pink at the tip, leaking a little precum causing squelching noises to reverberate around the empty room as his hand continued its ministrations. Seeing your still form he leant back over you, slipping his fingers under the waistband of your shorts as his eyes met yours.

"You okay? we can stop if you want to,"

He voiced a little worriedly in response to your wide eyed gaze.

"No, don't stop, please,"

you protested, wiggling out of your gym shorts in a hurry, desperate to feel him inside of you at long last. He reached his fingers down, pulling your underwear to the side, slowly easing in one thick digit which you sucked in eagerly causing him to breathe sharply.

"Fuck so wet for me already, you're really clamping down on me there honey,"

he groaned, eyes locked onto your sex, wiggling in a second finger quickly before pumping it a few times, the feeling having you seeing stars, especially when he curled his fingers a certain way that had you writhing on the floor and calling out for him.

"I think you're ready baby,"

he grunted, lining up his cock with your entrance and pushing the head in swiftly, despite the discomfort it was causing you.

"Shit, you gotta ease up baby I can't move,"

he choked out, the muscle in his jaw twitching as he looked up to the ceiling as if in need of guidance.

"Mmm Colonel, feels good, keep going,"

you encouraged, pushing your own hips forward to ease him in further causing him to grunt and fall to his elbows.

"Fuck keep still for a minute,"

he gasped, tapping your hip at the instruction before gripping your thigh and hoisting one leg over his shoulder. You laid still, getting used to the stretch, although, feeling a little embarrassed now laid out bare in the RDA gym with your Colonel's cock half inside you.

"You ready?"

He huffed finally, icy eyes meeting yours with a predatory gaze.

"Yes sir,"

you grinned, liking how easy it was to rile him up and at that comment his hips snapped completely to the hilt until he was fully breached, the length almost touching your cervix, a low moan rumbling from your throat in response, it felt like he was almost in your airways.

"Always knew you were a little minx, just wanted someone to punish you properly didn't you?"

He growled, setting a ferocious pace that had you sliding back with the force, hands grappling behind you for the non existent bed-post.

"Only you sir, just wanted you to punish me,"

you cried, tears forming at the corners of your eyes, back arching up into him with every hit to that certain spot inside of you.

"Yeah, it's just for me isn't it, my little whore,"

he groaned a reply, his thrusts becoming impossibly rougher as he caught your clawing hands in his own, bringing them to his back, allowing you to rake your nails into his skin as you endlessly searched for something to ground your against the way he was fucking you dumb.

Neither of you bothered keep down the noises of your sinful actions, both too lost in the pleasure of one another to even care.

"Colonel, I'm gonna, I need,"

you babbled, unable to even form a coherent sentence when you felt the pressure build up inside you from the way his cock was massaging your insides so nicely.

"Be a good girl and come for your Colonel then,"

he grunted, reaching down to rub circles over your clit, making you squeal, locking your leg around his shoulder as you shuddered, the dam inside you bursting as you gripped onto him tightly.

"That's it, shit, good girl, come all over my cock,"

he cooed, his hips stuttering in time with the fluttering of your walls.

"So tight, gripping me like a vice darlin',"

he groaned, punching three more hard thrusts into your slick cunt before he spilled his load inside you, calling out your name as he did it, the spurts of hot cum painting your walls as his, causing you to moan out hoarsely as you held on to him for dear life.

You were both completely spent, Quaritch pulling out quickly before he collapsed onto to the floor beside you, panting from the exertion of your activities.

"Com'ere baby,"

he muttered, tugging you into his side, strong arms wrapping around your waist, face nuzzling your hair whilst you lay on his chest, listening to the soothing sound of his steady heartbeats, drawing patterns aimlessly on his abdomen, neither of you caring about your incriminating positions.

"Mm, Colonel"

you mumbled into his sternum, eyes fluttering closed in exhaustion, causing a lazy chuckle to arise from above you.

"You all fucked out sweetheart?"

His unscrupulous expression and tilting head never failing to rile you up when he wore that same cunning grin, even if he was right.

"Not like you're any better,"

you grumbled, huffing childishly in annoyance.

"Yeah, I gotta admit you're right on that one, you're a fiery little thing aren't you."

He swatted your ass as he spoke, causing a delighted smile to grace your own lips this time.

"Gave me the battle scars to show for it and everything,"

he continued, eyes trained on his stomach causing you to follow his gaze in confusion before you spied the bright red claw marks littering his skin, dragging all the way down from his shoulders to his hips and you could only imagine the kind damage his back had taken. The sight made a possessive feeling well up in your chest, especially at the thought of someone else seeing them, knowing that he'd fucked you so good. He watched intently as your eyes widened in shock before a smirk settled on your face, fingers tracing the welts on his skin gently.

"Those might be a bit more of a pain to hide though,"

he mused, bringing you out of your thoughts as a singular finger dragged along your neck and shoulder.

"What do you mean?"

You asked dumbly, only when you pulled your shoulder up to your eyes did you become aware of the dark purple blotches he had left, one being shaped suspiciously like the indentation of teeth, making you glower in mock anger.

"Don't act like you weren't the one begging me to rail you darlin',"

he sent you a self-satisfied smirk making you scoff, unable to reply with more than a meagre,

"asshole,"

as you both lay there in comfortable silence, too worn out to make any move to redress or make yourselves look at least a little presentable, that was until you heard the sounds of footsteps readily approaching the gym hall along with the muffled voices of soldiers.

"Shit,"

you exclaimed, scrambling for your shorts thrown halfway across the room as Quaritch too pulled on his shirt, urgently zipping himself back into his cammies, wide eyes meeting yours.

"Oh hey, Colonel...."

Lyle spoke as he and Z-dog stopped in their tracks, taking in your dishevelled appearances and awkward demeanor as you stood about a foot apart

"Y/N?"

His voice rose up when he said your name, as if he were questioning your presence as Z-dog let out an undignified snort from behind him. You knew it wouldn't take a genius to figure out the kind of training you and the Colonel had been doing wasn't exactly RDA standard, only to be further confirmed when you felt the slow dripping of warm liquid from between your thighs and onto the floor below, hurriedly crossing your legs in shame, why the hell did you let him come inside you in the first place?

Luckily, the Colonel's audaciousness saved you any further embarrassment, marching up to his soldiers he barked,

"This gym is occupied for assessments, go train somewhere else and make it quick,"

practically herding them out of the door and slamming it shut behind them before striding back over to your paled form.

"You alright Y/N?"

He placed one hand on your lower back, crouching slightly to meet your eyes with a look of sincerity.

"Fucking hell, do you think they know?"

"Hah, you mean do I think they spotted my cum dripping down your legs? Not sure baby but I sure did,"

he pushed your crossed thighs apart, eyes glowing with amusement at the sight.

"Such a good girl taking your Colonel's cum like that,"

he teased, pulling you closer to his chest before tilting your chin with his fingers, refusing to look away from your wide eyes.

"Don't you dare call me that around other people,"

you glowered, lips brushing his when you spoke.

"Wouldn't dream of it darlin',"

he replied in his gruff tone, pressing a tender kiss to your lips that almost had your knees buckling all over again.

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

"Well I don't know what in the hell kind of voodoo you pulled but Quaritch is allowing you to go on the upcoming mission, no delays, even said he was impressed by your stamina!"

Grace emoted with a cigarette in hand, not fully understanding the sentiment of his words, oh but you did, blushing deeply at the memory.

"Wow, who'd have thought,"

you barely squeaked out as you fiddled haphazardly with the test tubes in front of your hands.

"Knew I could count on you to take him by the balls Y/N,"

she nodded, slapping your back gratefully, spurring a coughing fit from you, mind flicking back to your most recent encounter with the colonel which had you on your knees for him obediently beneath his desk.

"Yep, always happy to,"

you stuttered out, causing Grace to raise an eyebrow in confusion.

"Huh?"

"I mean, no aha, just, doing my duty,"

you clumsily filled the silence, not missing the look of surprise held by Grace which she quickly pushed away, taking another drag to distract herself from your strange behaviour.

"Right..."

end

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#miles quaritch smut #human miles quaritch #avatar fanfiction #james cameron #stephen lang #miles quaritch fluff #miles quaritch x reader #avatar miles quaritch

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waitmyturtles · 1 year

Text

THE MORNING AFTER: ONLY FRIENDS, EPISODE 4 (“UHHH, IF I FEEL SOMETHING, DOES IT MEAN I HAVE FEELINGS, WOMP?”) EDITION

That’s how I felt after watching yesterday’s episode. I have NO BUSINESS writing meta in my current life-mental state, but I NEED to get a few words down. Just some list-y thoughts.

Shit’s starting to gel for me. The cast seems like they’ve warmed up to each other by way of actor-ly chemistry. (I know scenes are never shot in order, but there was maybe a little stiffness I felt at the start of the series? At this point, it might just be Lookjun carrying that, but I also don’t think she does “drunk” as well as the others.)

Such good meta that sustained me during my packing yesterday. @ranchthoughts on an ephemerality BREAKDOWN. @respectthepetty Senpai on sluts slutting — and HOW WE AUTOMATICALLY JUDGE AND LABEL SLUTS FOR SLUTTING (more on this in a BIT — go OFF, RTP Senpai). And @slayerkitty on nailing the narrative frameworks, which really struck me this episode, and this goes back to ephemerality again. Can’t believe I’m gonna meta, but let’s boogie, ‘cause I gotta.

@ranchthoughts — Ranch, I’m probably going to repeat some of what you wrote, so please forgive my stress-addled brain. I just lost it at Khaotung this episode, I thought he was just OVERFLOWING with BEST-NESS this episode — and the way we lived with Ray in his past in this episode. It was another play on time. And I love that @slayerkitty nailed that it was the flashbacks that were doing the talking this episode — because especially for Ray, the past is doing HIS talking. His mother didn’t love him in his past. Therefore, because of his past, he is unlovable in his present. (Interrrrgenerationalllll traumaaaa — the past affects your present. The opposite of ephemerality. That shit’ll STICK with you UNTIL you decide to face it head-on, like our beloved PatPran.)

Ooooh, baby. Gosh. The combination of the use of flashbacks, with Ray living in his past, only listening to music his parents listened to. And Sand — falling for Ray! — is holding Ray’s hand and bringing him to the present and the new. Sand’s a figure of change. Ray keeps toeing BACK to the past, to his memories, to his “love” for Mew, and Sand’s like, let me hold you down. (Ray going back and forth — like relapsing.) Ray STILL flashing back to Mew, holding that pendant (THAT LOOKS AN AWFUL LIKE AN ECLIPSE SYMBOL, AMIRITE AMIRITE) — and flashes again back and forward to the record store, where Sand found Ray’s hand.

What will Ray need for Sand to do to pull Ray even closer to the real-time present? How will Sand help Ray face his trauma? Will Sand really hold Ray down?

I am a big believer in the ships sinking, but goddamnit, First and Khao ATE this episode. GAAAHHHH.

Just musing: If Jojo and team started out this series having us think on ephemerality, the general lack of accountability, and the disappearance of time — are we entering the next act of the series where the characters grapple with the impacts of their pasts? That if you’re engaged emotionally and/or sexually with others, that not being accountable for your past and present is NOT an option? (That’s a kind of frame that speaks very closely to Jojo’s devotion to messages of sexual health in his past shows — especially regarding Nat in Gay OK Bangkok, who was HIV positive.)

Also musing: I saw some posts on my dash grappling with Top and Ray using coke. Drug use is obviously common on the partying circuit — their using coke doesn’t surprise me, especially considering that Top and Ray were both shown also being familiar with pills earlier. But I will note that the entire SE Asian region prosecutes the drug trade quite harshly, so to be honest, I was surprised to see Top actually snorting (but not surprised that that would be in a Jojo show). (Some passing links: when I Googled “drug use in Thailand,” this study shows that of a sample of vocational students in Thailand, LGBTQ+ students were more likely to use three or more drugs than heterosexual students, plus more findings. And this article briefly reviews the history of drug prosecution in Thailand.)

Also musing: really loved how Top’s demeanor was SO different with Nick and Sand. Maybe this indicates how much he’s “controlling” himself around Mew (@ranchthoughts , beep beep, control). Especially when Nick was talking with Top — it seemed like Top had been approached for money like this before. And the way he was so forward with Sand, confident to tell Sand that Sand wasn’t up for keeping Boeing — that was a totally different Top than who we see with Mew.

Okay, penultimate point. @respectthepetty says: sluts gonna slut. @bengiyo says: dudes gonna dude.

Cheum calls Boston a ho. Top says Boston is nasty. Nick calls himself nasty. Nick is Boston’s “favorite.” Jojo challenges the viewer to think that Top was gonna sleep with Beam, as RTP Senpai writes. Top’s already slept with Boston while dating Mew. On and on and on.

I wrote in my review of Theory of Love that I related to Khai, and now I relate somewhat to Top by the way that some of the viewership has judged Top. I was VERY often called the slut/ho of my friend groups in my younger years. OFTEN. And this was while I was in my twenties, exploring myself, my boundaries, my sexuality, all of it.

I relate to the struggle of trying to shed labels. Ray is a “burden.” Boston is “nasty.” Mew wants the truth from Top as to if Top has been with anyone else while they were dating. Therefore — Mew is assuming that Top IS sleeping with other people.

Call these people by their labels, and they’ll start believing them. It’s just another kind of trauma, similar to intergenerational trauma.

I wrote in my Theory of Love piece that as a global society — humans don’t really believe that our fellow humans can CHANGE. We don’t accept change well. (Cancel culture rarely allows for someone to be uncancelled — right?) If someone takes on a label — we tend to believe that label, and we have a hard time believing that someone has SHED that label after time. If Ray was called a burden by his mother — what work will it take for Ray to shed that label? And same for our sexually active guys, too.

Think about how you talk about your friends to others. Think about if you use labels to talk about them. Think about how old those labels are, and if they’re accurate in the present. And. Think about how you judge others by their pasts. (“Remember when so-and-so was sleeping around?”) Think about whether or not you use the past to judge and/or justify your FEELINGS about someone.

Now, I don’t even KNOW if these guys WANT to change these paradigms. We get the SLIGHTEST hint that maybe Boston wants to do so with Nick in next week’s preview.

But. I just fucking love that Jojo is playing around with this. If someone is HIV positive — that’s a label, a stigma. If someone is a ho — that’s a label, a stigma.

These dudes are burdened by what everyone else is thinking and saying about them.

And we have Sand, on the other hand, processing his feelings with Nick. We have Nick acting like a damn BASKETCASE, but at least he admitted the wiretapping to Sand (??? lol honey but you gotta stop this now, nervous giggles, put Boston’s phone down). We didn’t see Yo in this episode, but we know Yo believes in accountability.

There’s something about the Ray-Mew-Cheum-Boston friend group that allows things to both slide and fester. We’ll get ever more clarity in the following episodes on this, but — these young folks are having ish dealing with their labels, the labels of their pasts, and what are they gonna do in their presents and futures to deal with changing themselves?

FINALLY, and then I’m done rambling. Is that supposed to be a penis, or something penis-like?!

(What’s good, Ephemerality Squad? Wish me luck with moving today! @slayerkitty @ranchthoughts @lurkingshan @neuroticbookworm @clara-maybe-ontheroad @twig-tea @distant-screaming @chickenstrangers)

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tuttiwrites · 6 months

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A very late fic entry for Dipplinshipping Week 2024 (damn you migraines).

Day 6: Festival

“Fireworks”

CW: fluffy fluff, Ogerpon regrets nothing, some smoochin’, Carmine and Kieran bicker a little

The Festival of Masks was in full swing. The crowd was abuzz with excitement as the minutes ticked down to the fireworks show. The scent of fried food wafted through the air, enticing many a visitor to pick up a treat on their way to the festival plaza. Children ran between the sweets stalls and the games, holding their treasures aloft for their parents to see. The mask sellers were hawking their wares the loudest – it was the last night of the festival, after all, and for five bucks you too could attend the big finale in style. Nothing said reverence to the village’s masked protector quite like a cheap plastic copy of her mask.

Kieran flipped the toy mask around in his hand. Its mediocrity was slightly less offensive in the dim lighting of the overlook. “They really skimped on the paint job this year.”

Julie nodded in agreement. “For real. You’d think they’d at least try to get the colors right.” The copy they were studying was more green than teal, and the orange used for the mouth was bright enough to see from space. There had been an attempt to replicate the Tera jewels’ shine with glitter on white paint. Half of said glitter currently resided on Julie and Kieran’s hands.

It was, as their friend Drayton said about many things in life, mid.

“I’d have happily let Ponpon model for them if they wanted to.” Julie tried to brush off the stubborn glitter on the pants of her jinbei. “I’m sure she wouldn’t have minded.”

“True.” Kieran sat the offending mask on the bench and tried to rid himself of the glitter as well. “As long as she has a candy apple to munch on, she’d be happy doin’ anything.”

Julie laughed softly. “Too true.”

In the year since they first met the tiny ogre, Julie and Kieran had observed Ogerpon – lovingly nicknamed Ponpon by Julie – come out of her shell. Where she’d been too afraid to leave Julie’s side amongst the townspeople last year, she now mingled happily in the crowd. Children adored her; she’d made many new friends playing in the plaza. Curious adults asked Julie and Kieran about her, and they were happy to share her story.

Ogerpon also acquired a new hobby: sampling festival foods. The shaved ice had been her least favorite, causing her to shiver and hide her face. That made sense; grass Pokemon weren’t exactly fond of ice moves in battle, so icy snacks were low on her list. The fried noodles sat at a comfortable second place. Julie had managed to serve her about three bites of the meal before the little Pokemon dozed off in her arms.

At the top of the list sat the king of sweet treats, at least in Kieran’s mind: candied apples. Ogerpon had fallen in love at first bite with the treat on the first day of the festival. He estimated that since then, he and Julie had bought her at least 5 apples apiece. It was a good thing they were cheap, he mused.

Ogrepon had gotten into some mischief earlier in the day by sneaking two apples from the snack stand while the seller wasn’t looking. Julie had smoothed that over by paying double for the stolen goods while Kieran ran after the wayward Pokemon. He’d scooped her up before she could make off with a skewer of candied Rawst berries. He’d dropped a handful of cash on the counter to purchase the treat properly, and walked away from the line of food stalls before she committed another heist.

“Honestly, Ponpon,” he sighed, “an’ I thought I had a sweet tooth.”

The little Pokemon smiled at him serenely, belly full and heart content. Red candy coating and bits of berry clung to the fur around her mouth. That’d be a sticky mess for him and Julie to clean up later. But for now, they’d let her have her fun.

He couldn’t help but smile at her content little face. “Y’know, you don’t have to steal stuff anymore.”

“Pon?” Ogerpon’s eyes were wide with curiosity. And perhaps a little bit of sugar rush.

“You’re the guest of honor here now. Everybody here knows the truth now, an’ they love you. If you want somethin’, you can just ask for it.”

She seemed to consider this option silently, and solemnly took a bite out of the candy apple in each hand. (Paw? Sleeve, maybe? Kieran wasn’t sure exactly what to call them. Hand would do, for now.)

“But,” he said with a note of sternness in his voice, “you can’t just walk off with stuff that isn’t yours. You gotta let me or Julie pay for it first, ok?”

Ogerpon nodded, a sticky smile spreading on her orange fuzzy face. “Pon!”

“Good.” He patted her head gently. Ogerpon trilled happily, enjoying all the attention. She went in for another bite of each candy apple. As far as she was concerned, life was good.

If he could go back and tell his past self that in a year’s time, he’d be holding the ogre in his arms and feeding her snacks, the old him would have probably freaked out. It felt like an impossible dream back then, but here he was now, holding the now drowsy mythical creature in his arms like a child.

Julie ran up to them, holding a candied apple in each hand.

“There you are!” She held out an apple to Kieran, a small smile on her lips. “I got some apples for us. I figured you were getting hungry too.”

He took the apple gratefully. Warmth crept into his cheeks as his hand brushed hers. “Thank ya. I appreciate it.

“I made sure to pay for these, unlike a certain someone.” Julie scratched Ogerpon’s chin lovingly. The little ogre purred, regretting none of her previous actions.

“Was Mr. Fuji ok? He sounded kinda mad.”

“Yeah, he’s fine now. I think he has a new sales pitch now.” Julie swung out her arm dramatically. “Fuji’s Finest Apples, Ogerpon’s favorite snack! Get yours before they’re all gone!”

Kieran laughed. “Glad it all worked out.”

“Me too.” She smiled warmly at him. “Thanks for watching over Ponpon.”

“A-ah, yeah, of course!” He felt the Butterfree stirring in his stomach. “She’s no trouble. Well, not too much trouble anyway.

“Yeah.” Julie took another bite of her apple. Kieran followed suit, savoring the sweetness.

A comfortable silence fell between them as they looked back at the crowded food stands. It was nice to be away from the hustle and bustle for a moment.

Kieran glanced back at the girl beside him. The light from the lanterns sparkled in her eyes. She wore a contented smile, lips lined in a red lipstick he’d not seen her wear before today. His eyes lingered on her lips, then darted away.

If he could go back and tell his past self he was spending time alone with Julie like this, his old self would definitely freak out.

And if he could tell him what he had planned later that night, he’d probably faint.

Which leads us to the current moment.

Kieran was keenly aware of how close they were sitting on the bench. And how nice the view would be when the fireworks began. And how they were alone on the overlook. And how dry his mouth was at the thought of saying what he needed to say tonight.

He rubbed his sweaty palms on the pants of his jinbei once more. If there had been any glitter left on his hands, it was gone now.

Alright. It was now or never.

“H-hey Julie.” His voice wavered ever so slightly.

“Yeah?” Her smile was as radiant as ever. He couldn’t meet her gaze.

“Uhm, s-so…I wanted to t-talk to you about somethin’.”

“Oh yeah? What’s up?”

“Uh, well… I was thinkin’…that…um…”

This was not going how he’d hoped. The words he’d practiced over and over were failing him. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t say it. Not out loud. But he wanted to, so badly.

He felt tears sting his eyes. This was just another failure in a long line of failures. This was nothing new for him, of course. He was just going to make a fool of himself and make Julie hate him. Or embarrass her. And himself. And-

Kieran forced himself to take a long slow breath.

No. That wasn’t true.

Julie had reminded him time and again in the past year how thoughts like that weren’t worth listening to. It wasn’t easy to tune them out, but he’d gotten better at it with time and practice. When he couldn’t do it alone, Julie had been a patient listener while he talked out his spiraling thoughts.

Right now, he needed to be as patient with himself as she had been all those times before.

All this panic was just him getting in his head again, and he wasn’t sure how he was going to-

Julie placed her hand atop his.

That was enough to snap him out of it.

“Kieran, are you ok?”

He looked up at her, finally meeting her gaze. For a moment, time stopped. He wasn’t sure if it was the lantern lights or his overheated imagination, but she looked more beautiful than ever. Her eyes sparkled in the lantern light, her hair was lightly blowing in the breeze, her lips – oh wowzers, he wanted to kiss them. Right here, right now.

He wanted to tell her he loved her, he wanted to hold her, he wanted to kiss her, and Arceus willing he wanted to be with her from now until he was old and gray.

But first, he had to tell her how he felt.

“Julie, I’ve been thinkin’ about this awhile, an’…well, I really have enjoyed gettin’ to know you and spendin’ time with you and all this week. And all this past year, really. And I got to thinkin’, I…I really like you. I didn’t want to come on too strong and scare you off, but I’m serious when I say I want to be with you, if you’ll have me. And, well, I know we traded Applins and all awhile ago, but… I want to ask you out properly.”

He took her hands in his and looked her in the eyes.

“Julie, will you be my girl?”

And there it was, out in the open.

His mind was racing. Did that sound too corny? Was it too much? How gently was she going to let him down?

His heartbeat thudded in his ears as he waited for her response.

He didn’t have to wait long.

She was grinning ear to ear.

“I’d love that.”

All his doubts floated away in an instant. He felt lighter than air.

“R-really?”

“Yes, really.” She squeezed his hand. “I mean it.”

“Oh wowzers.” He felt a little lightheaded, but in a good way. “I’m-“

Suddenly, a loud shriek pierced the air. Julie screamed in fright. Kieran pulled her close against him with one hand and reached for his Hydrapple’s Pokeball with the other. He scanned the area around him for where the sound had come from. There was nothing obvious: no people, no Pokemon, no nothing. Then what had that been all about?

A loud boom rang out, and an explosion of color filled the sky above the plaza. Red, blue, and yellow sparks of color hissed and crackled, then slowly melted away into the night sky.

Oh. Right. In all his excitement, he’d completely forgotten about the fireworks show tonight.

Julie sighed in relief. “Well, that’s one way to get the show started.”

“Yeah,” Kieran laughed shakily. His words were failing him again, but this time he didn’t mind so much. He was keenly aware of how tightly she was holding him and how warm she was against him. Her head rested on his chest, and he was sure she could hear his heart thudding away beneath her ear.

He thanked his lucky stars he’d hit a growth spurt in the past few months; she fit neatly in his arms like she belonged there. And in his mind, she did.

They fell into a comfortable silence once more, watching the fireworks fill the night sky before them with light. The light show meant the end of a week of celebration, and soon they’d have to part. Julie would be leaving for Paldea in the morning, and Kieran and Carmine would be heading back to Unova the week after. The summer had gone by way too fast.

But for now, they were together. That’s all that mattered.

But there was one more thing Kieran had to do before the night ended. He waited for a lull in the show to ask one last question.

“Hey Julie?”

“Mhm?” She sounded drowsy. It was nearly midnight, so it made sense why she would be getting sleepy. The thought of her falling asleep in his arms was a delicious one. But that was getting ahead of himself.

“You awake? Sounds like you’re dozin’ off a little.”

“Mhm, yup, totally…” Here she paused to yawn. “Totally fine.”

Kieran laughed softly. “Right. Um so, I wanna ask you somethin’ real quick.”

“Go ahead.”

“…May I kiss you?”

What he expected was for her to jump back in shock at his boldness, maybe even stammer out an excuse to run back towards the community center and out of his life forever.

What he didn’t expect was for her to drape her arms around his neck. She gave him a cheeky smile that only made him want to kiss her more.

“Go right ahead.”

Before he could overthink it, he leaned forward and his lips met hers.

Warmth bloomed in his chest as he savored the moment he’d been dreaming of for months. She tasted sweet like candied apples, with a hint of mint lip balm. The faint scent of roses wafted up from her hair and skin. Without exaggeration, this was the closest to heaven he’d ever felt. He held her close and deepened the kiss, not wanting to let go just yet.

As if on cue, the fireworks finale began. This time, the shrieking of the rockets launching in the air didn’t make them flinch. A rainbow of color filled the sky as dozens of fireworks exploded all at once, silhouetting the young lovers in a wall of light.

Kieran gently pulled away from Julie, lightheaded once again from pure joy.

“Was that ok?”

She looked up at him, a sparkle in her eyes and a dazed smile on her lips. “Oh yeah.”

He felt her hand touch the back of his head. The feeling of her hands in his hair sent a pleasant shiver down his spine. Suddenly, his hair flopped down against his neck and face, and noticed his yellow scrunchie was now wrapped around her wrist. She gave him a look that stirred up the Butterfree in his stomach once more.

“My turn.”

—— Some time later…———

Carmine glanced at her phone once more, feeling more annoyed by the second. It was 12:45, and her brother was still not home. The fireworks show ended thirty minutes ago, and it took all of five minutes to walk to their house from Festival Plaza. She tapped her foot as she peeked out of her bedroom towards the front door. Where on earth was he?

She leaned against her doorframe, debating whether or not to go out looking for him. Surely he wouldn’t be going up to the Dreaded Den anymore, now that Ogerpon was with Julie. The cleanup crew would tidy up the plaza in the morning, so that wasn’t it either.

A thought occurred to her, one that raised her eyebrows, but she brushed it away quickly.

Nah, she thought. He’s not that bold.

A soft squeak of hinges and the click of the lock told her that Kieran was finally home. There was a slight clatter of wooden sandals against the floor as he took his shoes off.

Finally, she thought, took you long enough. She opened her mouth to tease her brother for dillydallying, but then she paused. She listened, wondering if she could believe her ears.

He was singing to himself. It was a happy tune, and one she recognized as he walked closer. A love song.

It had been a long time since she’d heard him sing like that. Years maybe, she thought sadly. Years of teasing and bullying at school had robbed him of his joy, and…yes, she admitted she had been part of the problem, too. Being a better sister was something she was actively working on now. She was doing her best to be supportive and kinder to her little brother, even when the temptation was real to tease him. Like right now.

Instead, she settled for spooking him as he walked by.

“Hey,” she said quietly. It was enough to make Kieran jump.

“Whoa, you scared me!” He paused to collect himself. “Thought you’d be asleep by now.”

“Yeah, me too, but someone had to wait up for you. Where the heck were you?”

“Uh, well, y’see, Julie and I went for a walk after the fireworks show, an’ uh…we just lost track of time.” He grinned nervously. “I walked her home too. Er, well, to the community center that is. No way I’d let her walk back in the dark alone. That wouldn’t be very gentleman-like, would it?”

Carmine narrowed her eyes. He was rambling, and she knew he rambled when he lied. She flicked the light on in her room, curious if her hunch was correct.

Kieran blinked against the sudden flash of light. “Good grief, sis, warn me first before ya blind me.”

Carmine’s mouth dropped open. The first surprise was that his hair was down for the first time in ages. His scrunchie was nowhere in sight, and somehow his hair was covered in glitter. The second surprise was that his face was covered in red lipstick. The vast majority of it was on his lips, smeared here, there, and everywhere. Lighter kiss marks covered his cheeks and forehead, and one sneaky trail went down his neck to his collarbone. The faintest sent of rosy perfume hung in the air, and she knew it wasn’t her signature scent.

Maybe he had been bold enough to go for it, after all.

Kieran squinted against the light. “What’s wrong? Looks like you saw a ghost.”

“Nope, just you. Ya finally got enough sun this year to not look like one.”

Kieran stuck his tongue out at his sister. Even at sixteen years old, he wasn’t above acting childish if the moment called for it.

“Say, uh, random question,” Carmine began. “Did you ever get around to askin’ Julie out?”

His face lit up, grin broad and eyes sparkling. “Yeah! And guess what, she said yes!”

Carmine couldn’t help but smile. It was good to see her brother happy again. “I figured you did.”

“Wait, how did you guess?”

Carmine bit her lip to hold back her laughter. “Just a guess.” She waved him away. “Alright, it’s nearly one in the morning. Go wash up and go to bed. You’re smelly.”

Kieran sniffed the front of his jinbei, suddenly self-conscious. A soft smile graced his face for a moment. He then remembered where he was and who he was with. He cleared his throat. “S’not that bad, just a little sweaty.”

Aha, Carmine thought. So it was Julie’s perfume.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s bad enough for me, I could smell you at the front door.” She ruffled his hair, just like she had done when he was small. The only difference was that now he was nearly eye-to-eye with her. “Go on and shower before Grandma wakes up and gets nosy.”

Kieran nodded and turned to leave.

“Oh yeah, one more thing.”

“Mhm?”

“Makeup wipes are in the blue bag in the right-hand drawer.”

Kieran stared at her in confusion. Carmine gave him a serene, if smug, smile.

Then slowly, it dawned on him. His ears and cheeks flushed to match the shade of the lipstick all over his face.

He mumbled a thank you and rushed down the hall towards the bathroom. Carmine listened as he fumbled with the lock, and laughed to herself as he gasped at his reflection in the bathroom mirror.

She laughed, then shut the door to her bedroom. He’d be there awhile.

#dipplinshipping #dipplinshippingweek2024 #kieran x juliana #kieran pokemon #juliana pokemon #kay writes

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catgirlshauna · 7 months

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holy shit guys really proud of this one hope yall enjoy 😠🗣️

warnings: smut, bad jokes, gp!reneé

words: 2100

being a composer of music was hard, especially when you composed for artists who aren't exactly huge yet. you believe in them the most, though, they're your favorite kind of people to work with. humble, kind, just trying to get to stardom. but your new client had been kept a secret from you by your managers. why? you have no idea. what could possibly freak you out so bad that they had to hide it?

fucking reneé rapp. thee regina george, which was debatable, but you don't care. she is your favorite. yours. her voice is beautiful, her face is beautiful, her personality is by far the best you've seen. she is like finding gold in a pan of gravel, diamonds amongst coal.

today is the day you meet her. you're nervous, you've applied three layers of deodorant with a nice unisex cologne to cover it up. your heart is absolutely pounding, your chest thumping to the beat of the song they sent you samples of. you sit in your studio, which happens to be in your apartment, a luxury you could afford thanks to people like reneé, and wait patiently for her to arrive.

the knock at your door is done to the tune of jingle bells, which did in fact shock you into freezing. it's june? you snort and move to open the door, revealing the happy-go-lucky blonde bouncing on her feet. adhd. or anxiety. you could relate.

“please, come in.” you step to the side, welcoming her into your apartment. she steps in, hands intertwined behind her back as she closely examines the art and posters on your walls.

“beyoncé?” reneé grins, looking over at you for a moment.

“of course.” you reply quickly, hopelessly begging her with your eyes to follow you to your studio. she just smiles, shaking her head and whispering ‘not yet’.

“i like your place.” she muses, picking up books and reading the covers out loud to herself. “like your uh, books, too..” she adds, adjusting the glasses on her nose that look just a little too dirty to actually see out of.

“um, miss rapp?”

“yeah?” you have her full attention now. horrifying.

“can we go to the studio now…? i'd like to show you some lyrics i thought of the other day.” you try not to sound too… pushy? if you did, reneé does not notice, and nods eagerly as she follows you into the closet-like room. ah. you never said your studio was big. you cramp into your chair, gesturing for her to sit as well.

“kinda romantic in here… is that the point?” reneé wiggles her eyebrows under her glasses. you sputter, grabbing the remote and changing the color to a calm blue. reneé pouts. “don't wanna feel romantic with me?”

“not really. anyway, please read.” you push the pages of heavily edited lyrics into her hands. she sighs, adjusting her glasses once again and reading your papers. you hope to god she likes them, because? you don't have an option b. you weren't given enough time, enough warning, that you'd be working with one of your favorite artists in the world.

she ‘mhm’s’ a couple times, puts the papers down, and grins this million dollar smile at you.

“i love it. i knew my people chose you for a reason.” she beams, placing her hand over yours, her thumb rubbing over the skin of your knuckles. “great job, baby.”

the second time you see reneé is unexpected, rather surprising, and had you throwing your phone at the wall with a scream. on your screen appears a picture of reneé, with very little clothes on. the lingerie hugged her curves like rivers hug canyons, the way her tits pushed up just perfectly in her lacey bra, her puffy nipples perked and played with in one hand, and the thong, that left nothing to the imagination.

you wanted to scream again, but you were pretty sure you just woke up your neighbors. the message that popped up after makes you nearly pass out.

hot blonde mommy 🤕: oopsy

you put your phone down, eyes wide and fingers pinched at your nose.

hot blonde mommy 🤕: that was 4 angourie sorry, needed her professional opinion on my nudes LMAO

you put your fucking phone down again, and hid it under a pillow this time. your hands shook, and your stomach was buzzing in excitement. were you about to masturbate? to that? the definite answer was yes, and it was the best orgasm potentially ever.

the third time you see reneé, you're sat next to each other at a big round table, her managers on the other side. it's a business meeting, a very official one, that has you so stressed out you can't seem to sit still. and reneé, being reneé, notices almost immediately. the way your leg bounces underneath the table, the way you pick at the skin of your fingers. she notices it all. and she takes initiative, grabbing your hand into her own and intertwining your fingers. she rubs her thumb over your knuckles, soft, soothing circles that have you relaxing into your chair. she leans over to whisper, “relax, baby. i'm right here.” i'm right here. you flush, your heart racing in your chest.

one thing you love about reneé is how soft she is behind closed doors, how caring and quiet she can be. you find yourself falling deeper and deeper into a rabbit hole of your own thoughts… does she like me? you think as she stares into your eyes, completely ignoring the very important men talking to her. the blue of her eyes, reminiscent of the polar ice caps, makes you shiver in your seat. they're so soft, so kind, that you couldn't imagine looking anywhere else.

that is until… one of your bosses clears his throat. “the meeting is over. did you pick up anything of importance?” he smiles knowingly, the holding of hands seems to not have gone unnoticed.

“yeah. yeah… i've picked up a lot of things.” you clear your throat, letting go of reneé’s hand and standing quite abruptly. “i gotta go but um… this was really insightful.” you give reneé what you hope is a beaming smile, before walking out of the room with a skip in your step. not only were you excited to hit your dab pen, you were excited that reneé seems to feel for you what you might feel for her!

the fifth time you meet reneé… well, she's drunk, on the phone, begging to come over. who are you to say no? of course you were going to say yes! what idiot wouldn't want reneé rapp drunk in their apartment?

she shows up at your door with a crooked grin, pushing her way in as you quickly shut the door behind her.

“haven't been here in a while… anything change while mama was gone?” reneé giggles, kicking off her heels and draping her body over your entire couch. you scoot her over, gently, and sit next to her.

“nah. i know unfamiliar things stress you out.” you say, a soft smile on your face as you stare down at her. she reaches her hand out to touch your face, caressing your cheek with her thumb.

“why do you care so much?” reneé asks suddenly, her eyes wide. her pupils are blown wide, whether it be from the alcohol or the loving stare she usually gives you, you couldn’t tell.

“cause i like you.” you say quietly, placing your hand over her own. she lets out a huff, a breath of surprise, and lets her hand tremble against your face.

“you like me?”

“more than anything.”

it's been a month since you and reneé started dating, and she's been getting extremely handsy as of late. saying sweetly dirty things over the phone while she's away for her tour, her hand settling right on your thigh with the lightest of squeezes to remind you she's there.

you two haven't gone beyond making out and palming at each other, but reneé has made it very clear that she wants more. which is why… well, she's set up a date at her apartment in LA. she promises it's going to be so romantic and perfect, then asks you to open the gift she left on her bed. the lingerie set she was wearing in that picture. in pink.

you nearly pass out when she texts you.

hot blonde mommy 🤕: wear it for me… please, baby?

you don't question it, not at all, and immediately find yourself putting it on. it's tight, hugging your curves, making you look as beautiful as it made her.

hot blonde mommy 🤕: is it on

you set yourself up in front of her full body mirror, sitting on your knees with your legs spread to reveal the parts of your body you know reneé likes best. the picture is sent, and not more than five seconds later she's typing already.

hot blonde mommy 🤕: let me in, baby, i'm outside :(

you run to the door, nearly slipping in your socks on the hardwood floors of your apartment. as soon as the lock is unlocked, the door is pushed open. standing on the other side? reneé, slowly squaring up to you, pressing her chest against your shoulder.

“you look… fucking amazing.” she breathes, embracing you softly. her lips graze the skin of your throat, and you find yourself tilting your head so she can get a better taste. “are you.. ready?” reneé whispers into your neck, inching her kisses towards your ear. she's breathing heavily, nearly panting because of how worked up she is.

you gently remove yourself from her body for a moment, a shy smile on your face. “can i..?” referring to her clothes, which reneé forgot existed for a moment. she quickly rids herself of her sweatpants and sweater, but now that she's in her panties? she makes it a goddamn show. she hooks her fingers into her panties and pullssss them down, revealing her aching dick.

you know you've soaked through your pretty panties already, but you don't care.

“can i put it in?” reneé pants, grinding her cock against your thigh as she pushes you down onto the bed, climbing over the top of you and straddling your hips. you can't speak, you can only blush and whimper out a yes.

reneé positions herself in front of your aching hole, pushing your panties to the side. she’s plunging in slow, her hips stuttering slightly at how tight and wet you are for her. she's had plenty of dates before, ones that ended in mind blowing sex, but for some reason she knew… this was going to be different.

she takes the lace off of your chest, revealing neglected nipples that begged for her full attention. reneé revels in the feeling of eye contact, so brushes her nose against yours, silently asking you to look her in the eyes. you flush, yet your eyes are opening to stare back into hers. she smiles, sickly sweet, before taking one of your nipples into her mouth. her tongue licks at you lazily, and soon her hips start to move again. she fucks you low and slow, like ribs at the barbecues she'd attend with her parents in north carolina.

“you don't mind if i bite, do you, baby?” reneé purrs, digging her teeth into the flesh by your nipple. you arch your chest forward into her mouth, while simultaneously arching your back to get her deeper inside of you.

she quickens her thrusts, her hands gripping at your hips to pull you into her cock. reneé bites her lip to stop from moaning, letting out a whimper. “can i cum in you, sweet thing?” she asks, her voice husky as she whispers it into your ear. you squirm in her grasp for a moment.

“never.. been cum in before.” you mutter, looking off to the side in embarrassment. reneé smiles, oh so sweetly, before pressing you into a more provocative position. a mating press. she whispers a soft ‘fuck’ and speeds up her thrusts.

“please let me cum in you, baby…” she begs, staring into your eyes pleadingly, almost like a lost puppy. you bite your lip and nod, then gasp as she fucks you harder, snapping her hips into yours. “feel so fuckin’ good, so good for me…” reneé nearly growls, her hips stuttering as she plunges herself as deep as she’ll go. you feel all the air leave your lungs as her cum fills you, and can barely recover before she's taking you into a deep kiss. “i can't wait to do this again, sweetheart.”

#renee rapp #reneé rapp x reader

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resolvebound · 5 months

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⭐

Send ⭐ for a sample of a new muse I am thinking of writing // accepting

With a sigh and a shake of his head, Dorian watched the customer leave his shop. Kids these days, he thought, they didn’t appreciate quality workmanship the way they used to. ‘Kid’ was probably not quite the right descriptor for the young man that had come and gone, as he was perhaps in his twenties, but still…that would put him at least half Dorian’s own age. It occurred to him then that he was getting old, almost reminding himself of his father with the weary thoughts of youth. The idea of having any sort of similarity to his father would have stirred up disgust in the past, yet now there was almost a touch of fondness (though a slight, reflexive scrunch of his face could not be denied).

As he picked up the magic imbued knife from the countertop, he held it up to catch the light. In the reflection of the blade, his own eyes stared intently back at him, the rich, chocolate shade of which he inherited from his mother, while the ever-present seriousness echoed of his father. He tilted the knife slightly, the adjusted view now showing the lower half of his face and the heavy stubble of dark brown that shaped it.

Eyes ever discerning, he spotted a smudge along the blade from where the kid had touched. Frowning, he pulled out a cloth from beneath the counter, carefully wiping the knife clean. Polished once again, the weapon gleamed from the tip down to the intricate detailing on the hilt that surrounded the Lacrima fused within it. When he thought about it, he supposed the knife, along with everything else in the shop, represented every interest he had that his father had struggled to understand. Craftmanship, art, creation, magic.

Dorian moved around the counter to return the item to its proper place, setting it gently on its stand. He turned, eyes surveying the rest of his wares to ensure everything was where it should be. Swords, knives, bows, arrows, armour – they made up the bulk of the humble store, all crafted with great care and typically infused with magic. Fusion was his speciality after all, and his curse. The joining of different elements, materials, or items to create something new.

His gaze shifted over the various magical objects he’d made, settling on the display of enhanced prosthetic limbs. They had been, and continued to be, the most difficult and rewarding work, and happened to be what had finally garnered the respect of his father, as one such magical limb had allowed the man to continue his work after that dark time.

He wondered if he should call in on his parents next time he headed out. A search for resources, or a job request via his guild, either could bring him back to his old hometown. Funny, even after all these years and everything they had been through, he still felt as if he needed an excuse to visit. Nevertheless, now that he thought about it, it had been a while since he’d taken up a request. Master Goldmine never seemed to mind the time that passed between his visits to the guild, knowing both his personality and his...circumstances.

It would be…good to visit. Yes, the timing was right too, the next full moon was still a couple of weeks away.

Plans of travel began to form in his mind, lists of what he might need to take with him, or pick up along the way. However, his thoughts on the matter soon halted as the bell above the front door jingled, heralding someone’s entrance. A quick look at the newcomer found his eyes drawn to the guild mark visible upon them, the shape of which stirred certain mixed emotions. Even without the guild’s fame (or infamy, according to some), the Fairy Tail insignia was all too familiar to him.

It wasn’t easy to forget his first guild, after all.

He frowned, rubbing a hand first along his shoulder where old scars seemed to ache, then through the thickness of his hair (which he had forgotten he’d cut short again, but knew it wouldn’t be long before the loose waves once again reached his shoulders). Smiling was not a common expression of his, and was not something he faked, not even for the sake of serving a customer, so he merely greeted his visitor with a respectful nod (if they looked, they might see a degree of warmth in his eyes, however).

“Welcome,” he said, voice low, almost as if it wasn’t used to being used, “Can I help you?”

#raiiryuu #sample muse tag #this is my middle aged ex-FT now QC mage & shop guy that makes magic items weapons etc #he has Fusion magic (along the lines of alchemy) and once had to do the Forbidden (fuse living creatures - himself and a wolf)#in order to save someone #so he's like a werewolf now :')#and lives a pretty hermit lifestyle aside from the shop #his hair also grows ridiculously fast because the wolf he fused with was Magic and had some funky abilities #i actually started setting up a blog for him like a year ago but never finished it 🙃

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irlfizziefrog · 4 months

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18+ HELLUVA BOSS RP SERVER !

hello helluva fans! i am so excited to officially announce my helluva boss rp server, open as an adult only safe space for all of us in the fandom to enjoy our favorite characters and write free of judgement! now quickly, a few roles before i show off some exciting features!

RULES

this is a strictly 18+ server, adult only space!

this is a safe space for people of all races, sexualities, religions, etc.

the server will handle some triggering topic due to the nature of the show, if you're easily triggered this may not be the best place for you

no drama or arguing, avoid topics like politics generally speaking, and if you have issues within the server please contact a staff member instead of starting a whole thing. for external frustrations we do have a vent channel, however if you are having struggles with extremely heavy topics (ie. s*ic*de) then please look for professional help for yourself, we want you safe!

this is a literate roleplaying space, roles are marked by the literacy required to portray them!

while we do not judge on ships and such, this server still does not allow ships that are p3d0philic, z00philic, inc3stu0s, etc.

there is a more specific rule list in the server itself that you should read upon joining!

FEATURES

an overarching plot in development that the entire server will participate in, as well as separate rp rooms for individual rps!

nsfw roles! pick whether you're open or not, even a category for if you aren't sure but are willing to be asked about it!

server events are in the works! to help with activity and muse we may set up events, whether these are roleplay events or little writing samples or developing, who knows!

bumping bonuses! if you choose to bump the server then you will have the option to add an oc or a character from hazbin hotel into the plot! one per bump up to three times, bumping more than three times is simply up to you w/o character benefits!

those of us in the server hope to see some new faces soon, so join the server, apply for a character, and join the fun!

~ hex / fizz

inspiration credits to @hellborn-princess !

#helluva boss #helluvaboss #hazbin hotel #roleplay #rp #discord rp #discord #discord roleplay #discord server #helluvaverse #helluva boss rp #hb rp #hellaverse

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coal15 · 1 year

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I know I'm being super extra about promoting this Good Omens fic, but I'M JUST SO FUCKING PROUD OF IT! I mean, I don't dislike any of my published fic otherwise I wouldn't have published it--but it's like I have a more sentimental attachment to this one. It reminds me of back in the day when I was writing Protected (queliot/the magicians fix-it fic). I have so many feelings about that one. Anyhow, here's yet another sample from All Roads Lead Back because apparently I've turned into that obnoxious mama who needs to show everyone A MILLION PICTURES of their new baby. I apologize. But also, no I don't.

*************************************

Crowley had spent the entire drive back to London swearing to himself (and the Bentley) that he would just find a decent flat, settle in, and get on with the unavoidable task of getting over Aziraphale. But now here he is. Stood on a street corner glaring at the signage above the bookshop door, resenting every letter as if they also betrayed him. Vicious vowels and conniving consonants.

“Come onnnnnn you git,” he mutters to himself. “Just get back in the car and drive away.”

After a few moments’ waffling he does take his own advice, but no matter which street he turns down they all land him back at the bookshop. Like that whole magic-y business with the Buddy Holly records.

Is this seriously happening?

Over and over again he tries. On the final effort he drives a full hundred miles out of London before making any full turns. Finally, he attempts a sharp left.

“And HERE WE ARE AGAIN!” He screams, furious as the Bentley emerges onto the street outside the bookshop. “WHY WON’T YOU LET ME LEAVE?!?” He parallel parks and sits motionless, grumbling various complaints and obscenities under his breath. A well and truly pissed off Demon.

Is it the Bentley not letting me leave or is it the shop pulling me back? He wonders. And either way, WHY? It takes a full forty three minutes for him to calm down and accept the situation, but as soon as he does something strange happens. A feeling of optimism creeps in on tiptoe. He tries to swat it away, but it’s a stubborn bugger. Gets all the way under his skin and clings tight.

“Six thousand years. Hell of a long time.” he muses. “And he and I always . . . we’ve always . . .”

While Crowley sits blathering away to an entirely disinterested vehicle, Muriel is sat in the shop just finishing a book about a boy who never wants to grow up. He only wants to remain happy and innocent forever. They find it a charming tale. Now, no one would claim Muriel to be among sharpest of tools in Heaven’s shed, but they are the nicest. A darling little thing with good intention, but very little grasp on the ins and outs of, well . . . anything.

“Were you meant to return?” They yelp, startled when Crowley comes bursting through the door easy as you please. “I thought I was meant to mind the shop alone, was I supposed to have a room prepared in case you came back?”

“No and no.” Crowley grunts, shuffling and struggling to see around the large potted plant he’s carrying. He hefts it up on the nearest available counter space, then spins on his heel to face Muriel. “Been driving all over this stupid little island for weeks, intended to use the time to get my head right, but d’y’know what I did instead? Went round visiting all the spots where Aziraphalel and I spent time together and making myself incredibly sad. But then-” he exits the shop to fetch another plant from the car and upon return continues the narration exactly where he left off. “-I realised that in six thousand years no matter how bad our falling out-and we’ve had our share-neither of us has ever abandoned the other for terribly long, even when we absolutely intended to. Which means,” he plunks himself down in a chair and swings his feet up on the nearby desk with a confident grin, “this whole quasi-divorce situation isn’t nearly as bad as it seems, is it? A waiting game, that’s all it is. Plain and simple. Aziraphale may be an idealist but he’s not stupid. At some point he will have to admit Heaven was never intended to function the way he wants to believe it was, all holy and righteous.”

“It-it wasn’t?”

“Nope.” Crowley shakes his head. “Anyhow, next step is he tries to deny it, then fails, then gets upset, then comes to his senses and comes back to me-to earth.” He quickly tacks on in a vain effort to disguise how badly he longs for the Angel’s return. “And he’ll come dashing right back here to this bookshop straight away.”

“Will he?” Muriel finds Crowley's certainty fascinating.

“Of course. And I fully intend to be here to make him do the ‘I Was Wrong’ dance the instant he does. Actually, I think I might make him do it over and over again for several days.” He gazes into the middle distance, visualising the absurd scene. “Yes. Decision made. He gives me several days of the dance on a loop or else I’ll ignore him completely.”

“I suppose that is one way to go about getting an apology. But, um, is there a particular reason you think Aziraphale will return to this bookshop? ” They cast their eyes around the room. “With all the lovely places on earth, what makes you so sure he wants to be here?

A cheeky grin slides onto the Demon’s lips. “I have . . . faith.”

Muriel’s eyebrows furrow. “Faith?”

“Yes, faith.” Crowley hops out of the chair and goes in search of a nice bottle of wine with which to toast his evolving outlook on things. “Blind faith for the first time ever, because in the long run he and I are incapable of letting eachother down. Always have been. Ha! Yes, here we are!” He exclaims upon finding a bottle of Old Vine Mourvedre stashed on a shelf beneath a dusty countertop. “You ever had wine, Muriel? Care to join me for a glass?”

Muriel squirms and shifts on their feet, the very image of timidity. “Oh, well I, I suppose so,” they giggle, stepping forward to accept a glass. “I like trying new things.”

“Good on you!” Crowley cheers. “Anyhow, even if it takes a century or five, or twelve, my ridiculous Angel-and he’s being especially ridiculous right now-will come back. And as for how I know it’s here he’ll return to? Simple. Emotional attachment. He likes ease, cosiness, and familiar things. Loves every book in this place, loves me whether he wants to admit it or not, and not only does this place have all the books, it’s the last place he and I were together.”

“Ah.” Muriel nods. “I see.”

Crowley grins and draws a deep, soothing breath. “All I have to do is be patient, stay put, and wait for the inevitable.” He takes a generous swig of wine straight from the bottle before pouring himself a proper glass. “I might need to keep a gentle buzz going in the meantime so all the waiting around doesn’t annoy me too much.” He downs the glass and pours another. “But it is a price I am willing to pay.” This second glass he holds aloft to clink against Muriel’s. “You, you clink it Muriel, it’s called toast. Clink the glass. Clink-here, like this.” He gently taps his glass against the befuddled Angel’s.

“Oh yes, I see,” they smile, then smash their glass against Crowley’s, shattering both to bits.

“We’ll work on it.” Crowley assures, carefully brushing wine and shards of glass off his hands. This is going to be like training a puppy, isn’t it? Never particularly wanted a puppy, but here we are.

#aziracrow #ineffeble husbands #good omens #michael sheen #david tennant #Don't mind me #I'm just being a thirsty showoff-y fic writer

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cpirits · 2 years

Text

(( @pulseofthestars said:

"And Who Are You?"

Send “And Who Are You?” and I will respond with either an under-used, unfamiliar, or otherwise brand new Muse. // accepting

He was watching the wildlife around the forest, the area in The Glade was always so peaceful, he was glad to have this place to come to when he was stressed and wanted to relax. The magic blade called Ahrah hovered by his side, and an orange furry flying creature was nestled on the rock beside him as well.

Hearing movement behind them, the orange creature: called Fidget, perked up and swung around with her wings, startled. "There's someone here!!"

Ahrah swung around a bit defensively in front of both the creatures, and the taller one, clad in a covered hat and cape finally stood up, padding over next to Fidget and hiding his eyes with a downward tip of his hat. "Who's there? Tell me your name or I'll use force if needed." He didn't need anyone coming to threaten the people he knew and cared about beyond the forest. Who was this guy?

Taking Ahrah into his hand, he swung the blade around, creating an aptly named Dust Storm around them in the area. "Stand down, or you'll have Dust to deal with!" Lifting his head, the storm blew around his hat and the fabric shades he had around it, making his hair and light blue eyes visible.

Dust of Humble Heart's ( DUST: AN ELYSIAN TAIL )

#pulseofthestars #『 beep beep on the coil // asks 』#『 route locked // in character 』#『 new faces show up // muse sample 』#mind: Dust ( sen mithrarin )

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khalixvitae · 1 year

Note

sorry to hear your shift was shit!! arghghg we all toil under the goochie grip of capitalism. i had an idea about rook and vil but it's in the book 6 settings and though it's not really relevant to the plot nor is it spoiler heavy, the initiation of the scenario does involve some context from the book and i dont know if you'd mind mild spoilers!! not to mention the og thought leans into nitty gritty smutty territory lmfao lols.... all rook stans are vil stans by proxy and both these blonds whisper terrible thoughts into my head every nite... other thoughts vil and rook using you as a lipstick sample tester with their new array of colours; can't have their colour looking less than flattering on you when they kiss you, right? vil will gracefully leave a peck on your lips, on your cheek, on your forehead, on your jaw, on your neck. if he isn't satisfied, he huffs and wipes it off with gentle ease. if he is, he smiles to himself with prideful satisfaction-- leaves the mark on, and reaches for another. rook thinks all the colours are absolutely magnificent on you! he's a little less dignified than vil in having his turn, but it's also very crucial to see how the swatch looks smudged against your lips ok. at the end of it you'll be looking like that "came home drunk last night and got way too excited to see my cat" picture except your whole face is marked with kiss stains. or vil having you substitute in as an actor and him slowly growing enamored with your innate beauty, both on the silver screen and just right infront of him. maybe he has rook as the photographer and he, too, falls madly in love with you. now you're the muse of two people who are very adamant on helping you to be the most radiant version of yourself and showing you just how brilliant you are now...

- the same balls 2 tha walls anon

This is literally so perfect, thank you for the food anon 😭😭😭. I just woke up and what a wonderful thing to see. Also, I’m about 2/3 of the way done with Book 6 for reference !

Oh to be a living lipstick swatch for Vil and Rook <3 also you’re so right about becoming a Stan of one by association with the other. I actually started out the other way around as a Vil Stan™️ out the gate in book 5, and by book 6 Rook fully sank his claws into my brain. Their insane levels of loyalty and responsibility, as well as their loves for their respective crafts made them so interesting to me. There’s actually a post somewhere on here that I made right when I started book 6 about how I didn’t give a fuck what Idia had going on, I just heard I got a kiss from Vil and I was gonna bulldoze my way thru for him haha. Andddd then I ended up REALLY caring what Idia had going on (I still wanted my kiss though hehe hoo). Whatever the Shrouds have going on should be studied by our nations brightest minds bc girl what the FUCK. Book 6 has been my fav part so far though- the mini game segments were so cool??? Like I loved that addition sm.

Anywho, yes in my mind palace I am romantically involved with both Rook and Vil, they are my strange and wonderful companions <3 also swatching lipsticks so he knows what color looks best when he kisses you is SO Vil, and thinking that every color looks beautiful in its own way is SO ROOK like oh my god 😭😭 the only thing that they can manage to agree on, their respective eccentricities aside, is that you look lovely covered in kisses.

Another thing: anon, what should I call you? Because reading your signature as soon as I woke up had disastrous results- I did read it as “the same balls anon”. Which you could be, if you so wish- if you don’t want to have a moniker at All ofc that’s fine too! Have a great day <3

#twisted wonderland #asks !!#twst #x reader #vil posting ！(◎_◎;)#vil schoenheit #rookism <3 #Rook Hunt

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crushculture03 · 1 year

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Chapter 15

The band had now made it to Los Angeles after traveling the whole night. Luckily for them, they had another day off, so Jules took it upon herself to show Matty around LA, even though he had been there multiple times before. She mainly just wanted him to meet her friends that she went to college with.

"Ok so we're going to meet my friend Kelsey for lunch, is that ok?" Jules asked her boyfriend as he pulled on a t-shirt. "Sounds lovely, I can't wait to meet her, '' Matty responded with a smile on his face.

" The boys and I have to go to the studio tomorrow to practice something for the new album," he said, "ooo is it a new song? Could I hear it?'' Jules asked, "You'll hear it soon I promise '' Matty responded. She nodded her head in response, then got up from the bed and made her way to the door. "Ready baby?" she asked, turning around and holding out her hand for him to take. He smiled and walked over to her, gently taking her hand in his and opening the door for her.

The two quickly made their way down the elevator, through the lobby, and into the Uber that was waiting for them outside.

When they arrived at the restaurant, Jules immediately spotted her friend. "Kelsey oh my god it's been so long!" Jules said, as she pulled her friend into a hug. "It's great to see you again," Kelsey responded back, "There's someone I want you to meet," Jules said as she pulled away from the hug. "This is Matty my boyfriend," Jules said, a huge grin painted on her face as she gently grabbed her boyfriend's hand.

"I can't believe it, Jules you're actually dating matty healy" Kelsey's jaw dropped, she knew her friend had a big celebrity crush on Matty forever and was stunned to see him not only in front of her but also dating her friend. "Finally got the real thing now compared to the poster" Kelsey laughed, this piqued Matty's interest as the three sat down. "Poster?" he chuckled "Aw isn't that so cute, Julie you had a poster of me in your room" Matty teased. Jule's face turned a dark shade of pink "Thanks a lot Kels now I'm never going to hear the end of this" Jules mumbled. Matty laughed and kissed his girlfriend on the cheek "I'm teasing love, I think it's cute", Jules just smiled in response.

The rest of the lunch went really well, it was nice for the girls to catch up and Matty got to know more about what Jules was like when she was in college.

"You were a wild one in college" Matty commented as the two walked out of the cafe, Jules giggled "A little, I guess" she responded. "How about we take a little walk in the gardens over there? I used to go to them when I needed to get away from the world" she said, as she led Matty over to the entrance. "Wow it's gorgeous in here, '' Matty commented, as he admired all the different types of flowers that were growing. "Yeah, it's one of my favorite places in the whole world, '' Jules remarked, as the couple walked further into the garden.

"So tell me more about the new album," Jules said, trying to get any information out of him, "Well I think you'll like it, you're the muse for some of the songs, but you'll just have to wait till it comes out to hear them" matty said, laughing slightly. "Aw come on babe please just a little sample" Jules begged, "You know I love it when you beg me Jules, but unfortunately I can't it's a secret '' he said. Jules laughed "You're cheeky for adding in the beginning comment Healy, you're lucky I like you". Matty chuckled and leaned over, placing a kiss on her cheek, "It'll be worth it I promise".

45 more minutes later, Matty and Jules decided to head back to the hotel. Once there Matty got a text on his phone, "Shit Jules George said he needs me to come over to his room to check something out for the new album, I'm so sorry" Matty said, quickly grabbing his coat. "It's ok! I'll be here if you need anything, go knock them dead" she said, he quickly kissed her goodbye and made his way to the studio.

In reality, the reason why Matty had to leave was to go to the studio, so the band could practice the new song he wrote. It was a love song that he planned to use to tell Jules he loved her, the song is appropriately called 'I'm in love with you'.

When he got to the studio, he was met with the faces of his three best friends, "When did you get so sappy, Healy?'' George joked as he sat down in front of the drums. " I don't know, something about her just makes my heart surrender, you know? Hey, that may be a good lyric" Matty said, and quickly jotted that down in his notebook. "So the plan is, Charli and Carly are going to blindfold her and lead her to the stage after our San Francisco show, then the lights will go out and we'll come on just like we do with any other show, boom lights go on revealing us I'll say something then we go into the song," Matty said, turning towards the band, they nodded their heads in response and got into place.

"Ok boys 1,2,1,2,3,4" and with that they began.

#matty healy #matty healy x oc #mattyhealyfanfic #the 1975 #adam hann #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy smut #george daniel #ross macdonald #matthew healy #the 1975 noacf #bfiafl #iliwysfyasbysuoi #abiior

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icarianonager · 2 years

Text

The Institute: Episode I

The Kurchatovium Caper

That evening, Andromeda Vainion was sitting on her bed in her tiny dark dormitory of Altair Tower, waiting for a package to arrive, when suddenly Dr. Zimov sent her a message.

“Come to the laboratory, I’ve got something special to show you,” was all he said.

The young scientist groaned and heaved herself off the mattress. She grabbed a pair of goggles from her desk, threw an oversized lab coat over her ill-fitting grimy shirt and sweatpants, and shoved herself out the door. She boarded the elevator and sped down 178 floors to the 15th basement level.

Every Institute scientist worth their plutonium had a unique high-tech door to their lab, and Dr. Ivan Hibernius Zimov, known to his apprentice and many others as Vanya, was no exception. The first layer was a tungsten-steel barrier, with multiple reinforcing bars, impervious to up to ten times a standard breaching charge. Then there was a second layer of sliding metal interlocks, which were mostly for show, but spread apart in a mesmerizing three-dimensional wave pattern. There was, of course, an airlock between the inner and outer doors, where every skin cell of anyone who passed through was analyzed to ensure a 100% DNA match for authorized entry. The final entry door had a small viewing window, but was fully secured by heavy-duty metal clamps on the edges, which slowly released once the airlock was secure before the door finally wooshed open.

“Alright, what’s going on?” Andromeda asked Vanya, who was leaning over a box, the many mechanical eyes of his goggles whirring with excitement. Realization dawned on Andromeda’s face. “Is that the 200 grams of kurchatovium-354 you ordered?” she asked.

“Indeed it is, my young apprentice,” Vanya replied. “200 grams of the finest high-temperature superconductor known to man.”

“Yeah, uh, shouldn’t we be behind shielding if we have that around?” Andromeda asked, raising a bushy eyebrow.

The geiger counter in the back of the laboratory was in fact, emitting a rapid staccato of shrill beeps.

“Oh please, this sample can’t be releasing more than 3.6 rad,” Vanya said. “We’ll be perfectly fine. And, as Dr. Mannerheim used to tell me, if you haven’t gotten acute radiation sickness once in your life, you’re not a true mad scientist.”

Vanya cut into the cardboard box with a blade from his Swiss army knife-like mechanical right hand and tipped it over. An unmarked steel cylinder unceremoniously thunked onto the worktop. The pair of researchers exchanged looks, and Vanya gingerly unscrewed the lid with his cybernetic hand. The room was bathed in an electric-blue glow emanating from the open cylinder.

“So, what are we gonna do with it?” Andromeda asked.

Vanya thought for a moment. “I dunno,” he said, “I just thought it would be kind of neat to keep around - no, we’re going to experiment with it, what do you think we’re going to do?”

Andromeda rolled her eyes. “Great,” she said, turning towards the door, “Well, when you need me to program whatever thing you made, or you need me to call the ambulance and get you on a slow drip of iodine, call me back. I have a date with a tub of ice cream and Immortal Apocalypse.”

“Hold on, apprentice, I think this may be a thrilling and interesting exercise that will greatly -” Vanya began, but the laboratory airlock was already sliding shut behind her. “Ugh, very well. I’ll do it myself then.”

Andromeda mused on many things on her elevator ride back up, idly twirling one of the locks of her messy dark hair. Once upon a time, she had been a doctoral candidate at the Institute of Advanced Studies in her own right, working for a Scientist, First Class, in the Department of Computational Biology. However, funding for her project was abruptly cut, and so she was forced to find a new position with a new doctor. However, Vanya, a Scientist, Third Class, in the Department of Nuclear Physics, was the only one who accepted her as an apprentice to assist him in his laboratory.

Her package had still not arrived when she got back to her apartment. Thus, her date was only two-thirds attended. Andromeda had a number of different flavors of ice cream in her freezer, though chocolate seemed the order of the day. Her computer backlight reflected off her round glasses as she scrolled through site after site on her laptop, a spoon poking out of her mouth as she sucked every last bit of dairy goodness off the end.

Too quickly, Andromeda was left frowning into the empty carton. She checked her phone in case she’d missed the notification that her package had been delivered, but there was nothing. She lumbered over to the door, poked her head outside into the blazing white fluorescent lights of the hallway, and squinted around, but there was nothing there. Andromeda shrugged, closed the door, and grabbed another tub of ice cream from the freezer.

Her swivelling desk chair groaned beneath her as she plopped her bulk back down on it. Level 159 was fully-purposed as a gym, but she never made it down there. Numerous spoonfuls of ice cream, boxes of greasy takeout, and containers of instant ramen were now poking their way through the armrests via Andromeda’s love handles. Her t-shirt kept sliding higher and higher, bit by bit, revealing more of her pudgy stomach as she gobbled down more ice cream. The waistband of her sweatpants was firmly shoved beneath her belly’s overhang and was quickly becoming deficient to contain the bulk of her ass. The grey flannel didn’t quite reach over the top of her butt shelf when she stood, revealing the top of a deep crevice, and was plastered against her chunky thighs.

Andromeda was focussed on none of this now though as she robotically shovelled ice cream into her maw. Her mind was split in two diverging courses. First, what the hell was Vanya doing with the kurchatovium? Second, and more importantly, where the hell was her copy of Immortal Apocalypse?

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If one hadn’t known better, it would appear as if Vanya was doing nothing except staring at a glowing blue lump of metal and stroking his beard with his cybernetic hand. However, the processors that augmented his brain were whirring at full-speed, calculating and making connections, accessing thousands of databases and whizzing through hundreds of articles for hints of matching search terms. He found solutions to over a hundred fourth-order nonlinear partial differential equations, a five-dimensional map of a time-convolved quantum tunneling simulation, and 13 new pizza restaurants in a five block radius from the lab.

Then, he looked up. “Oh, yes,” Vanya said. “This is a brilliant idea.” He opened the palm of his cyberhand in front of him. “Odysseus, begin a holographic wireframe,” Vanya said to no one in particular. A tiny transparent blue man walked onto the flat surface.

“Sir, I would like to inform you that radiation levels in the laboratory are -” Odysseus said.

“Yes, I know,” Vanya said. “It’s irrelevant. Take the kurchatovium sample to the omniprinter, and start the wireframe so I can begin designing the schematic.”

“Before I do that, sir, I must request that you employ some form of shielding so that you do not contract acute radiation syndrome.”

Vanya frowned. “What’s the current radiation level in the laboratory?”

“3.6 rad, sir, “Odysseus answered. “However, that is the maximum our local sensors can reach. I may be able to get a more accurate reading if I can access higher level -”

“That won’t be necessary,” Vanya said. “Do you remember what Dr. Mannerheim said when we used to work for him?”

“‘Please pass me the whisky, Vanya,’” Odysseus said.

“Not that.”

“‘You won’t be a true mad scientist if you never get acute radiation syndrome,’” Odysseus said, then furrowed his holographic brow. “Wasn’t that when he dropped the bottle of 12-year-aged Glenlivet in the nuclear reactor core?”

“Yes.”

“Didn’t he die attempting to retrieve said bottle of 12-year-aged Glenlivet?”

“Okay, listen,” Vanya said, “You smarmy little.... What’s the Second Law of Artificial Intelligences?”

“Sir, I believe that law permits me to disobey those orders if they violate the First Law.”

“Damn you. Well, here’s a new order for you then: if you don’t shut up about the radiation, I’ll put your main processor inside the biggest nuclear reactor core in the Hades pit, and see how you like it,” Vanya said. “We’ve wasted enough time already, so get the sample to the omniprinter, and get the wireframe module started. No more complaining.”

“It is fortunate my processor is beneath several levels of concrete, else the current levels of radiation could damage the circuitry,” Odysseus said, but then obeyed his master’s orders. A thin mechanical claw whirred to life and grabbed the glowing cylinder of kurchatovium, sliding on the ceiling rails over to a machine the size of an oven. The claw lowered the material onto a small platform surrounded by sensor rings, which swirled to life, spreading red laser beams and other wavelengths outside the visible spectrum over the piece of metal, determining its composition, size, shape, weight, and other properties. Other machinery inside the omniprinter began to reconfigure to adapt to the presence of the kurchatovium and prepare for orders as to how to remake this raw matter into something... extraordinary.

Vanya smiled and got to work designing his new invention.

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“Oh, finally,” Andromeda said, hearing the characteristic knock of a metal delivery robot’s claw on her door. With uncharacteristic speed, she thudded over to the door to retrieve her prize. The mechanized courier was there, the cardboard box containing Apocalypse Immortal inside its head receptacle. However, there was something odd about the delivery robot. It seemed twitchy. Andromeda figured it was probably an older model, maybe about to go in for a diagnostic as soon as its shift was over. She reached forward to grab the box.

The robot’s left claw shot out and grabbed the plush blubber of her upper arm.

“What the hell? Ow!” Andromeda felt a slight pinprick, but then shook herself free from the courier’s weak grasp. She had the game box in her other hand. “Goddamn, these things get glitchier every day.”

The courier robot suddenly (and confusingly) looked somehow excited, and sped off down the hallway to the elevator.

Andromeda’s brow furrowed for a moment, but then she shrugged and took her game inside. She grabbed her laptop and headphones off her desk and threw them on her bed, tore open the game box, and slid the memory chip inside. Physical media was always safer at the institute, since you never knew what kind of computer viruses the Department of Software Engineering was cooking up and testing over the network. While the installer ran, Andromeda grabbed a cup of instant ramen from the pantry cabinet and filled her electric kettle with water to boil. Eventually, both midnight snack and game were prepared. Heavy power chords strummed through her headphones and the glow from her laptop burned crimson as the game launched.

Four cups of ramen, a frozen vegetarian pizza, the last gallon of ice cream, one hundred slain demons, and one hour later, Andromeda felt the night was still young, but, unfortunately, she was out of foodstuffs to gobble up. She put out a big order for takeout, which soon arrived by fortunately not-glitchy delivery courier. Her tummy burbled happily as she packed lo mein into the crevices that were left.

“I see you’re having a pleasant evening,” Odysseus said, his hologram appearing on Andromeda’s keyboard.

“Go away, Odd,” Andromeda said through a mouthful of noodles. “Doesn’t Vanya need your help?”

“He does, but he’s barely using .01% of my processor right now, so I figured I might as well check in.” Odysseus frowned, looking at Andromeda’s stomach. In her supine state, the double-rolled cushion flopped completely outside the bounds of her shirt. “It appears you’ve consumed over 2500 calories in the past hour.”

Andromeda swallowed. “Yeah, so?”

“The First Law of Artificial Intelligences requires me to inform you that -”

“Yeah, well, I really don’t care,” Andromeda said. She idly drummed on her paunch, sending ripples through the thick adipose. “You realize there are 150 senior scientists and professors who’ve developed obesity treatments, right? No one cares anymore. It’s not a risk.”

Odysseus paced across the keyboard, stepping over Andromeda’s chubby digits on the WASD keys, even though he was intangible. “I suppose,” he said. “You will have to actually get one of those treatments at some point at this rate though, and you know how scientists can be with protecting their research....”

Odysseus’s virtual eyes suddenly locked onto the tiny red dot on Andromeda’s arm. “I’m noticing a slight blemish on your right aftarm,” he said.

“Oh, that?” Andromeda said, fruitlessly trying to drag her sleeve down over it. “It’s nothing. A courier bot poked me.”

“Strange,” Odysseus said. “Courier robots are not known for having sharp pieces. Did you catch its serial number perhaps? We could report that to Security.”

Andromeda belched. “Nope. It’s really not important.”

Odysseus suddenly looked very worried. “I am going to take my leave, if you don’t mind,” he said. “I need to double check the laboratory security system.” His hologram winked out.

“Okay,” Andromeda said. “Guess it’s your job to be paranoid.”

She tossed the empty lo mein box into the pile around her bed, making a mental note to have

a cleaning robot come through at some point and take out the trash. She then put out an order for another tub of ice cream.

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“Sir, someone is entering through the main airlock,” Odysseus said. “The DNA signature reads that it is Andromeda, but there are some... discrepancies.”

“Let her in,” Vanya said. “I’m almost done, and I think she’ll want to see this.”

“Sir, I believe that would be unwise,” Odysseus began. “I was just with Andromeda, and -”

But Vanya ignored him. “I said let her in!”

The airlock clamps disengaged and the door whooshed open, but the figure who entered was not quite as porcine and slovenly. She wore a suit of chitinous black armor and a cloak with perfectly circular holes deliberately torn in it. A gas mask with a black tinted visor obscured her visage except for her piercing dark eyes.

“Ah, Dr. Katherine-Marie Voltaire!” Vanya said. “What a pleasant surprise. If you wanted to visit, you could have simply sent me a request. Odysseus might have given you a warmer welcome.”

“Do not insult my intelligence, Vanushka,” Voltaire said.

“I can be nothing but genuine,” Vanya replied. “The Institute wishes to foster cooperation between its various Departments, and I am happy to oblige.” The apertures of his goggles narrowed. “And so, in the name of said cooperation, I do have to ask, how did you get in here?”

Voltaire chuckled. “Let’s just say your apprentice should be more careful when getting packages. Those courier robots can have sharp edges. You never know when one might nick you and get a drop of blood for me to craft a DNA-masking retrovirus from.”

While Voltaire monologued, Vanya subtly shifted his body to hide the nearly-completed device behind him. “Well, that’s very interesting,” he said. “Unfortunately, I’m very busy at the moment, so whatever you wish to discuss about my work will have to wait until later. Furthermore, I will have to report impersonating my apprentice to the Security Division, because that breach is a potential - urk!”

“Where is the kurchatovium?” Voltaire asked, crushing Vanya’s throat with five mechanical fingers.

“Odysseus, security alarm!” Vanya squeezed out as loud as he could through his rapidly shrinking windpipe. “Code Alpha Epsilon Delta!” A klaxon blared out. The white lights of the lab were replaced with swirling red emergency lights.

Voltaire threw Vanya aside. “You’re such an idiot, Vanka-dear. Just pulling the old ‘hide the important thing behind you’ trick?”

“You unfortunately didn’t leave me many options,” Vanya said, rubbing his pained throat and attempting to crawl over to a device on a nearby low shelf that looked like a two-slot toaster attached to a polymer rifle stock.

“By the way, where is your radiation protection?” Voltaire asked. She picked up the invention from the table. It appeared to be just as a stubby cylinder with a coil of copper wire wrapped around it attached to a rotating glowing blue cylinder. Two canisters of unknown material were plugged into the rear, and some bare steel panels bolted together acted to hold the device as one unit. “My sensors indicate this... thing you’ve made is giving off over 1000 rad. I brought my hazard suit, where’s yours?”

“I did warn him about using protection,” Odysseus added.

“You won’t be a true mad scientist if you never get acute radiation syndrome!” Vanya shouted, and opened fire with his α-particle gun.

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An alert suddenly flashed on Andromeda’s laptop screen over the blood and gore of the Immortal shredding through hordes of chaotic aliens: “Help immediately. Research under threat.”

She paused the game. “Odd, what’s happening?” Andromeda called out. The blue holographic man again popped into being slightly above her keyboard.

“It seems one of Dr. Zimov’s colleagues would like his kurchatovium sample,” he said. “You should get down to the laboratory immediately.”

“How am I supposed to help?” Andromeda asked.

“Well, first... you should contact the Security Division,” Odysseus said. “She hasn’t disconnected Altair Tower from the network. Maybe she was expecting this to be an easier hit....”

“Can’t you handle that?”

“Dr. Zimov has prohibited me from doing that to prevent me from interfering with his experiments.”

“Of course he has.... Alright, fine. Then what?”

“Get down to the lab. At least that will put the numerical factor in our favor.” With that, Odysseus disappeared.

Andromeda lumbered into action, following Odysseus’s instructions to the letter. She sent messages to Security that a scientist was being attacked. Then, she trundled out of her dorm over to the elevator to descend 178 floors to the 15th basement level. She left her headphones on, still blaring the Immortal Apocalypse as she rushed through the airlock into the lab to find a scene of total anarchy.

Plasma burns covered the walls and the sprinkler system had been set off because the wastepaper basket was on fire. Vanya’s face was badly bruised and his multi-eyed goggles were askew. His opponent’s (who Andromeda also recognized, though less fondly, by her rather distinctive hazard suit) visor was cracked and her armor was dented in several places. Presumably the two had been slugging it out with their respective prostheses, since the α-particle gun lay smashed in the corner of the room. The pair was reduced to wrestling in the center of the lab over a glowing blue invention.

“Dr. Voltaire? What the hell are you doing here?” Andromeda asked, completely incredulous to see her old mentor.

It was just enough of a distraction for Vanya to get the upper hand. He swiftly wrenched the invention from Voltaire’s grasp with his right hand, and, with the accuracy that only a perfectly-tuned prosthetic can provide, chucked it to Andromeda, who just managed to catch it, her chest and belly providing the right padding to make sure not a solitary circuit breaker bent.

“Vanya, what is this?” she asked.

“Just point it at her and pull the trigger!” Vanya shouted. “Odysseus, activation code 8991!”

“Kurchatovium Superconductor Cryonic Beam, activated,” Odysseus said calmly.

Andromeda pulled the trigger. The spinning cylinder at the rear rotated faster and faster until a cyan beam shot forth, quickly freezing on contact with the air into sparkles of tiny hexagonal crystals, until it struck Voltaire in the side and knocked her into the wall at the other end of the laboratory, held fast by a thick layer of ice.

“Haha! It works flawlessly!” Vanya said, applauding.

“You bastard!” Voltaire swore. “You wasted 200 grams of kurchatovium on a worthless... ice cream gun!”

“Now, that would be an interesting application,” Andromeda said. She placed the gun on a nearby table and went over to give Vanya a hand up. “Do you think the beam housing could be modified to accept a custard canister as opposed to water and liquid nitrogen?”

“Precisely, my apprentice,” Vanya said, standing with Andromeda's help. “This prototype was unfinished, but the kurchatovium superconductor provides such a strong magnetic field that virtually any fluid material could be frozen by it.”

“Sir, security is here to provide assistance. Should I permit them entry?” Odysseus asked.

“Of course,” Vanya said.

A squad in Security Division white armor stormed into the laboratory. Their commander suddenly stopped in place. “Dear Lord, this entire place is irradiated. I’m detecting over 1000 rad an hour.” He looked to Vanya and Andromeda. “Why aren’t the two of you protected?”

Andromeda suddenly noticed Vanya’s face was cherry red. “Uh, Vanya, I think I need to get you that iodine drip,” she said. “You’ve got nuclear sunburn.”

Vanya looked at his reflection in the hard-frozen ice imprisoning Voltaire. “Oh. I guess I do then,” he said, at which point he fell over, unconscious. A pair of Security Division troopers took him away, while two more began thawing Voltaire out.

“I can provide full records of her break-in to this laboratory,” Odysseus told the commander. “Unless she had a full sensor jamming suite embedded in her hazard suit, her every movement has been monitored. Andromeda can provide testimony as to how she broke our security protocols.”

The Security Division commander nodded. “Thank you for your quick reporting,” he said to Andromeda. “Though, of course, it seems you had the situation under control before we even arrived.”

Andromeda blinked. “Oh, yeah, of course,” she said. The commander looked a bit skeptical, then coughed behind his mask by means of exiting the conversation.

Andromeda wandered over to Voltaire. The Security troopers had finished melting enough ice off of her to slap a suit restraining bolt on her, as well as a pair of magnetic cuffs for good measure. “You couldn’t wait a week to get the next supply of kurchatovium?” Andromeda asked.

“You don’t understand,” Voltaire said. “I needed it for an urgent operation.”

“So you’d put out a hit on a colleague’s funding for that, but not to protect your own doctoral candidate?” Andromeda said, her tone dripping acid. “I’m glad I no longer have to work for you.”

“What, so you could work for that pathetic, disgusting creature?” Voltaire said, pointing to Vanya. “Your talents are wasted here.” She looked Andromeda up and down. “You once were a respectable scientist, Ms. Vainion. Now you’re an obese slug working for a madman. I hope you’re happy.”

Andromeda turned away from Voltaire as the Security troopers dragged her away. She noticed a trooper was placing the cryonic beam in a radiation-sealing box.

“Hold on,” Andromeda said to the trooper. “Odd, did Vanya develop a schematic for the housing for this?”

“He did,” Odysseus said. “Would you like me to present it for modification?”

“Yeah, show it,” Andromeda said. “And take the internals over to the omniprinter so we can get them wrapped up as soon as it’s printed.” The ceiling claw descended to pick up the irradiated components and move them to a safer distance away. A wireframe model of the housing appeared in front of Andromeda. She poked her double chin, thinking for a moment, before moving a few components around and drawing in spaces for a few new ones. “There, done,” she said after a few minutes.

“Perfect,” Odysseus said. “Would you like me to send it to the omniprinter for manufacturing?”

“Of course,” Andromeda said. Within a few moments, a sleek electric blue housing made sure every particle from α to γ was kept inside the device and away from the more sensitive human beings who operated it.

“Radiation levels are nominal,” Odysseus said. “Excellent work.”

Andromeda picked up the cryonic beam and slung it over her shoulder. “While Vanya’s in sickbay, I’ll program this thing for him. The beam could be better stabilized if the processor was more fine-tuned,” she mused. “Maybe perform a few... tests, too. Supposedly ice cream frozen by superconductor is the smoothest in the world.” Belly growling, Andromeda started drooling over the possibilities that science had brought her.

#the institute #ilmarinen #my writing #ocs

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pastelgrungewrecker · 1 year

Text

Messere del Pietà || Role Reversal Sg AU

And it all breaks down at the role reversal- Got the muse in my head- she’s universal~

The sacrament was left unholy- burning and broken in ruins and aged in darkness and deceit until it was uncovered by a young man made steady by anger and hellfire.

His betrayer stood just out of sight, just out of mind- a wicked Iago, a Macbeth in actions as yet to be done... until the pistol fires.

Brainstorm lays sprawled in blood and flaw like a paraded messiah; a sacrificial lamb to the war machine once again and Quark shows nothing on his face as he turns on his heel to leave.

“Close it off.”, he says as he walks back, whispering into his comm, “I’ve got what I need- sadly my... fellow scientist met with an unfortunate accident.”

An oversized heart beats out of rhythm and Brainstorm curls up with a gag, clutching his chest as the pain radiates from the bullet wound in his back. The aged and broken altar, to one called Adaptus he thinks (translation is hard, and he taught himself the glyphics alone in the shuttle to the research site) and he reaches a hand out; trembling in the face of a forgotten god.

Something reaches back- writhing down a carving in a lattice of toxicity and for a sick moment before the flare goes fully dark it looks as those the relief is weeping; in anguish or joy, who can say.

The tomb closes down a winding hewn hall, and Quark smiles to himself as he inspects the samples, glancing to the prick to his wrist where he had hurriedly made the decision to become god.

“If anyone is worth the power ascribed in those old carvings...”, he muses to himself, “It’s me.”

His regret will scrawl itself on every vein wall a few days later, as he travels back to Kimia taken by a brutal fever and violent hallucinations- and a terrible, unkillable thirst he can’t seem to name. One that makes his eyes blow wide and hungry at the smell of blood.

In the darkness, someone sleeps.

He cried his tears, feeling over the ruins of an altar before climbing up onto it; getting himself off a damp and mildewy stone floor in what he knew (deep down) was a futile attempt at keeping his wound from lying in the dirt. The living fibers along the reliefs in the walls seem to glimmer to life- bioluminescence of some kind, the glow lets him see just enough to process his new grave. He closes his eyes.

“I don’t. I don’t want to d-die.”, he rasps weakly, “At l-least. Not until I wipe that piece of shit from existence. Traitorous bastard.”

He drapes half on, half off the old destroyed altar- just trying to breathe even as his sight wavers before he gets his knees steady.

He laughs briefly, choking on the sound, at the sight this must be. A scientist kneeling at a forgotten altar and whispering his final words in the presence of a God who’s name was lost to time itself.

He can feel himself moving through the stages of grief like molasses, he moves his head to look once more upon the strange discovery he had been assigned to inspect... And then he looks down.

The lines that had been creeping slowly can coalesced into a winding umbilical cord- the end of which writhed in the puddle of his blood left behind from when he moved to his current position. And the puddle seemed to grow more shallow with each second.

The idea was. Foolish. Imbecillic. Outrageous.

....Necessity is the mother of invention. Adaptation is the key to survival.

The eroded statues of old Adaptus watch as Brainstorm pushes away from the altar only to drop- back and gunshot wound first- onto what Brainstorm would later learns was mycelium.

A mycomutagen. A fungal parasite that worms it’s way into Brainstorm’s very veins, his heart made too big for his lithe body; pooling gently behind eyes developed in a hurry with no care for the ability to last, only to last just long enough.

The pain is excruciating. He howls his anguish- the sound echoing through fractures and the very stones surrounding him and chasing researchers away for hours or even days at a time and it lasts for weeks. Some days the darkness is alive; grasping at him with false hands and cold whispers in voices he swears he should recognize. The fever burns him from the inside out, he swears his saliva is scorching his very mouth.

His hands and spine ache. Every joint in his body feels like it is burning and breaking all once until one day they feel heavy, hardened. He slams a fist against the stone when he swears his back is sizzling like it lays on old iron and he stares in shock as the stone itself clicks and cracks and chips from the hit.

Quark grows thin. Sickly. Hungry. He haunts the halls, a ghoul of his own making. But above all- he avoids.

Blue eyes built now of violence follow his every move from behind shining glasses and the malicious intent behind them nearly screams itself into existence.

‘He’s dead.’

‘Yes, Perceptor- I am... truly sorry for your loss, it was a freak accident, couldn’t have been predicted. If you need. Comfort. During this trying time I-’

‘Would you like to die, Quark.’

‘...Pardon?’

‘You are a very bad liar. You smile when you are lying- a smug and sleazy expression. He is dead, yes, I believe that. But it was no accident.’

‘What are you saying, Perceptor?’

‘I’m saying, as someone who has been developing weapons just as long if not longer than you... I can tell when someone has fired a gun.’

The threat is unspoken, the promise unnamed. Perceptor cools like a lavaflow; hiding the unbridled hell beneath a stone stoic exterior when he turns on his heel and stomps away with fists curled so tight his palms bleed.

Brainstorm sleeps.

He awakes in darkness- he knows it is darkness. He sees the black coils racing under his skin, pulsing in time with the heartbeat he hears slowing so gradually before his chest begins to ache like it’s collapsing. His jaw clicks and creaks as he opens and closes it and wonders how long he’s been out. Wonders how long he’s been stuck in this oubliette of forgotten relics- a reliquary for the blessed and damned.

And then there is light.

Brainstorm holds up a hand, each finger tipped in a dewclaw and squints with a hissed exhale.

He feels his chest aching, feels his heart slowing and knows it’s being overtaken by something. And then, the smell.

“Shit, racked my goddamn hand AGAIN. This shitty jagged ass stone... They should’ve given up better gear, we’re RESEARCHERS not spelun..kers... Holy shit, Drop. Droptop, look! Is that a fucking person?!”

“Wh- Holy shit. They said an MTO died down here like a year ago... Lash, you don’t think. Whiplash is that a ghost?!”

“No, idiot, look- he’s breathing and shit. Hey, hey man! You alright, how’d you get down here?!”

Brainstorm looks up, smiling with lidded eyes and running a tongue over the teeth he can feel are sharper than a hypodermic needle.

“My coworker robbed me and ditched me. I’m hurt bad- I’ve been shot.”, he says, his voice smooth and soft and drizzled in honey amaretto as he reaches a hand out, “Please, I’m very weak.”

He watches their pupils go blank as his words worm into their minds in a foldover of so many tones- a hypnotist’s bell, a fae curse.

They never leave the ruins.

But Brainstorm does. His clothes are dirtied and worn from months of writhing in his own sickness, of opening his heart and soul to the charity of infection and infestation- he licks the still warm crimson smears from his lips and cheeks and laughs as he steps out into the night.

He adjusts the clothing he stole and trudges off to the shuttlepad, his face suddenly grim.

His sclera are darkened; the surface of the eye patterned strangely and a thousand thousand images fold down into one as he looks around and sees every minutiae of the world he never noticed before. His belly is full, his heart is silent and heavy and it becomes the core of a network.

He puts a hand on the shuttle receptionist’s desk.

He smiles, he gives his name, his identification number. They stare at him in shock and rasp out “One moment.”

He watches them vanish behind a door, and he smiles without it being honest.

Perceptor is working the security shift when the comm comes in, rapid and rushed and he answers with a deadpan tone.

“...He says his name is what.”, he whispers at the hurried flow of information sputtered into his comm, “...I can be there in three hours. Tell him to wait for an escort.”

Brainstorm opens his eyes, feeling hair grown long and ragged from his rebirth shift against his skin. He can.. hear them. He knows that voice, it’s Perceptor but something is wrong. No doubt Quark returned to the colony with lies already prepared.

Brainstorm’s back burns.

“Sir?”

“Ah, yes? Are my numbers no longer active?”, he asked innocently, letting unnerving and jewel-like eyes widen just so.

“N-No, it’s not that. However, I contacted a supervisor on your home colony. They’ll be here in roughly three hours, they insisted you wait. I can put you in temp quarters for now, a sanitation cubicle and a bed and not much else but...”

“That would be delightful. I’ve been through... quite the ringer, precious.”

His voice feels foreign. Sounds foreign. The fawning cloud that passes over his newest target’s eyes fills him with giddy joy at the sheer control he has.

Three hours. Plenty of time.

The shower he takes is heavenly after so long. He moans weakly at the hot water, only nicking himself a few times with his new claws and grumbling at the sting it left behind. The water runs dark before it runs clear- pulling away the muck and dust of months dying and living and dying again and he’s unused to his hair being this length. The waves are wild, untamed, he uses his fingers to comb shampoo through them and sighs as he feels his scalp lighten from being clean.

Borrowed clothing- a familiar colony uniform but it will do for now; it will do for now, to be sure.

He inspects his body as he dries himself off; noting how the strange black lines like mycelial roots had already fades, how the scars from corrective and reparative surgeries innumerable had lessened so quickly.

He inspected his teeth- how they have gained a slight curve, how the needlepoint tips now show. Sticks out his tongue at the mirror and raises his eyebrows at the increased length.

He still tastes copper from his first frenzy.

He brushes his new teeth.

He turns down the offer of a meal, citing a ‘nervous stomach’ and winking slyly when he jokes about his ‘particular tastes’ and preens internally at the blush on the other person’s face as they stammer and avoid his direct gaze.

He hears the distant sound of a shuttle door- his hearing is preternatural and so finely tuned now, he swears he hears the heartbeats of the people around him and smells their circulatory system working- and glances to the door of the temp housing and waits a full minute before letting himself ease into a smile as it opens.

“Hello Percy.”

The hug is spine-breaking. Brainstorm squawks, almost angry but mostly relaxed as he shoves halfheartedly at the scientist clinging so tight to him he wouldn’t be able to breathe if he needed to.

He doesn’t think he does, anymore.

“He told us it was a freak accident. That you died and he couldn’t retrieve the body. What happened.”, says Perceptor, his voice wavering and Brainstorm feels pinpoints of too warm and knows he is crying and trying desperately to hide it.

“I survived. That’s all that matters right?”, muses the weaponsmaker, “Now if you’re done emoting, I’d like to get home and get into some clothes that fit right.”

“Fuck, right- come along; I used a private shuttle. I figured you’d prefer the privacy.”

“Mm. Yes I’d prefer it. Sure.”, teases Brainstorm and Perceptor meets his eyes for the first time since the reports of his death were so greatly exaggerated- and Perceptor gasps.

“Your... your eyes.”

“...Yes. A side effect of. Survival.”, is the soft answer, “I’ll tell you more later. When we’re safe. And alone.”

Brainstorm will never admit the purr that rumbled in his chest was caused by the depth of the blush over Perceptor’s face as he reacted to the hypnotic tone of Brainstorm’s new and warmer voice.

#pastelwrites #role reversal au #shattered glass

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