#I am also working on getting me some very smooth rocks

[keeps-ache]

brrrba pa pa da de do ♩

[inkskinned]

it is the first snow today. i think we should all have off work, even though it didn't stick. i think there should be 4 national holidays, one for each season. happy first snow, go home and make cookies. for spring it can be the first crocus. for summer the first lightning bug. for autumn, the first golden leaf. go home, kiss your dog, feed your cat (who is absolutely already-fed but somehow still starving.)

i think we should all take more showers together, but i mean that in the soft way. i mean it like taking a nap. two years ago i had 5 adult friends in my queen bed, all of us laying across each other, head over belly over thigh over hand. any time one of us would giggle, it would ripple over each of us, like pulling on a spiderweb. kim actually needed to nap and didn't get to sleep and i am still sorry for it even though this is one of my most precious memories.

i think we should all wash each other's hair, i mean. i walk my dog and i watch someone put up twinkle lights around their front porch. alex and i just moved, and i love the neighborhood. already so many of our new neighbors have stopped by to say hello. the nice lady downstairs also collects plants, like me. she gave us her number on a pink post-it note. i am trying to decide whether to make her cookies or brownies.

i am going through a very hard time. something bad happened this weekend that i do not wish to discuss. it is hanging over me. i think of the green ribbon, and the woman who had her throat cut. it feels like that sometimes, inside of my body. like i am walking and talking despite being half-corpsed. like i am hanging on by a ribbon, standing on some kind of cusp. i keep saying - at least it wasn't worse. we are so lucky it wasn't worse. the idea is river-rock smooth now, all the edges worried off.

in this very dark night - the sun sets by 3 now - people don't need to, but they try anyway. they paint the missing light into things. i have an embarrassing number of missed calls and texts, but i feel the love from them nevertheless - hey. if you need something, i'm here. i will bring you food/puzzles/anything. i got you.

i think we should all have a big group chat where we do errands with strangers. this week i got lost in a home depot, which is wild because i'm a lesbian and we are actually hatched in a lowe's lumber section. there were two other women in the whole store. we ended up shopping together, at first by accident (we all needed things in the same aisle), and then because, well, why not. one of the ladies was taller than me, so she pulled down the screws i needed. i am agile and have the personality of a raccoon, so they sent me after anything below 3 feet. we talked about holiday plans and never learned each other's names, but did learn all the drama about each other's families.

i am making you cupcakes, because i have so much affection i want to pour it into batter. you ask me if i am eating enough per meal. i wrap your gift twice, trying to do it prettily. i get excited to give it to you, just because i hope you'll be excited too.

my parents drive an hour just to see the new apartment and to do the parent thing; standing in the kitchen saying things like "oh you'll get so much use from this dishwasher" and "well, you could paint that" and "when your mother and i moved it was uphill both ways and in a snowstorm and of course your brother was an infant." my mother brought me a plant for housewarming. i always say i love you before she leaves.

i play dnd on tuesdays still, after all these years. we all keep that night free. at one point, between grad school and marriage and all of it, we had to have a serious discussion about how to keep it running. we will keep going, we decided eventually. just to see each other, even if we don't play - you are all important to me. sebastian is not prone to affection but last night he stole my usual sign off - i love you all, be good, he said. he was laughing.

i don't love the winter, actually. i like snow in theory, but i grew up in the north, and am too-familiar with the season of "mud and sludge". i don't like being cold. but i do love something kind of soft and rare: every year around this time, people remember oh yes. you and i are human together. and i have love to spare.

it is the first snow, and something in my heart is finally warm again. i have spent what felt like the last 18 months just going-through-the-motions. it has felt blank and immediate, like i would never actually feel again. that sounds extremely trite and stupid - but that is the boring and familiar experience of depression. life just washes up against your windows, and you watch it happening. you see things that should be lovely and affecting, and it just whispers too-thin. i was desperately uncreative. uninterested in my hobbies. unimpressed by my writing. i told my therapist, often, i don't know how to find hope again.

almost sheepishly, something strange and lovely is burning in my chest. i keep not-looking at it, worried it will scamper back into the shadows again. it is skittish and wild, but it is so warm i want to sink my hands into its fur and feel it breathing. i love-hate it: if it's real, it can hurt me when it leaves again. but i am icarus-born, sun-lover and poet: i can't help myself. despite my best intentions, i am falling in love with life again.

i am planning to make cookies for my friends. alex and i are going to go christmas tree shopping. we picked out matching dish towels last night, and they have little mushrooms on them.

i love you. it does come back. yes, even after a long time. even for you. i promise. keep trying. you will wake up and it will be a day you can smile about.

write me when you get there. we will take the day off of work, and i will wash your hair, and we will both be laughing.

[strawberry-lemonade-kisses]

I expanded on this. https://www.tumblr.com/strawberry-lemonade-kisses/788824131662708736/courting?source=share

~~~~

Think about Gyomei who is so nervous when he first starts courting you. He always brings small gifts with him, hair pins, flowers, books. He doesn't know what you like yet so he brings a variety of things, going off of your reaction to them. The second you mention loving the meat buns from this certain stall two towns over he shows up with them, no sweat, light work. Your reaction is everything to him. He's quiet, let's you talk as you drag him through the woods to your favorite sunlit waterside spot.

"so then I was explaining to Mrs. Temi that demons are real and that you spend so much of your time and energy fighting them only for her to call me a silly girl who needs to stop reading! Can you believe that?!" He's grunting in agreement, steps careful behind you as you finally come upon the spot. The smooth rock surrounded by trees that open up just for the sun. "I like to sit here and enjoy the heat when I want to get away, plus if you put your feet in the water it's a good balance." Your leading him to the rock, laying out a blanket from your bag and setting up a small picnic while he stands there, a statue in the sunlight. Moments like this give you the opportunity to really take him in, his unerving height and large stature should scare you off but you find him so endearing, knowing his personality is the opposite.

"you can sit down now" you reach for his hand, guiding him down to the picnic. "Are you hungry? I packed fruits and even some chicken skewers, then of course you brought the buns which I am thankful for. Your such a good man." He's beaming at your praise accepting snacks as you offer them. "Do you like any animals? I really like watching deer, they show up on the other side to drink" he hummed, taking a bite of the chicken skewers.

"cats" he was turned towards you as he spoke, baritone shaking your existence.

"cats" you mimicked, studying him, trying to imagine what he would look like with a furry companion. "That's endearing. You would make a very good cat owner, your thoughtful and careful, you move with purpose. Your also warm which is a big thing for them" he nodded along

"I have a few" he wasn't going to mention that a few actually meant over 10.

[backtothefanfiction]

Professor Peter Parker

Summary: The first day of college nerves are suddenly made worse when you realised the guy you f*cked last night is your new Physics Professor!

Warnings! 18+ ONLY! This is some of the filthiest smut I have ever written and posted on here yet. Female reader and pronouns, Age gap (everyone is of legal age, Peter is a very young Professor), Oral (F + M Receiving), Dirty Talk (so much fucking dirty talk), praise kink, edging, P in V, Peter Parker (YES he does need his own warning), One Night Stand... or is it?, ITS SEX PEOPLE, JUST STRAIGHT UP SEX WITH A LITTLE PLOT FOR ADDED TENSION AND POW!

Word Count: 4.9k+

A/N: Consider this my formal application piece for the literary prostitutes society. There are no words for this, so I'm just gonna type/sing Don't Lose Your Head from Six. "Sorry not sorry but what I said, I'm just tryin' to have some fun..." But seriously though this was so self indulgent and I can't believe this came out of me. It's very much giving Aria and Ezra in Pretty Little Liars but older and much more Peter Parker. Also I am really sorry about if the tense keeps changing, I sometimes have a problem with finding my rhythm and I really cba to spend the time working it all out and changing it.

First day of college. Standard level of nerves for a first day. Are you running on just a couple hours of sleep? Sure. Still a little tipsy from last night? Okay, yeah, maybe just a little, but that’s a good thing right. Takes the edge off. But then again numbers and science had never let you down before. You can do physics. You’ve got this.

You took a deep breath, hand hesitating on the door handle. ‘This is the first day of the rest of your life.’ You said to yourself, breathing deeply.

You found a spot somewhere in the middle of the room. Not so eager you were at the front but you also didn’t want to hide away in the back. That and you were pretty sure you were due for an eye test and if you sat any further back you wouldn’t be able to read the board. You got out your notepad, flipping open to the first page, your fingers smoothing across the fresh paper comfortingly. You reach for a fresh pencil from the novelty pack your Mom had bought you especially for your first week, knowing you prefer the feel of writing in pencil than pen, the ink always getting smudged on your hand from your messy scrawl. You pluck the one with tiny zebra all over it from the clear case before placing it back in your bag. Your fingers drum the back of the pencil on your page nervously as you wait. You tried not to overthink things as your stomach began to churn. Had you really turned up this early? You took a quick look around the room at the other 5 people who had actually been there before you. ‘Hey,’ you reasoned to yourself, ‘at least you weren’t as early as them.’ 

You yawned. Damn you were tired. Although you had this early class, when your new room mate suggested you go out with the guys who lived across the hall you couldn’t say no. To be fair, it had been a good night all considered. You had met some new people, exchanged a few numbers, agreed to go to the end of semester drama club performance even though the term had only just started, drank way too many jello shots, got snuck into a local bar and then ended up going home with a tall brunette with the softest yet devious brown eyes you had ever seen who completely rocked your world. 

You absentmindedly rubbed your thighs together, squirming slightly in your seat as you thought back to his head between your legs. The lewd moans he’d pulled from your lips echoing around your brain. It sent a fresh new wave of arousal straight to your core.

‘Not the time or place.’ you berated, instead forcing your mind back into the classroom and the task at hand. ‘Physics of Matter with Professor Peter Parker. He was probably middle aged’ you thought to yourself. It was always the case with classes like these, middle aged men finally leaving the lab for the first time after finally completing their life's work, now relenting to their wife’s begging to spend more time with the family. Or older men with white hair, wrinkles and tweed, desperately holding on to their independence, understimulated by the idea of retired life when all that knowledge of matter and the universe was rattling around their brains. ‘Young hot professors were only to be found in the movies or on TV’ you daydreamed as you tried to distract yourself from the growing pit of nerves in your stomach.

You check your phone every few seconds as other students file into the room, finding their own seats as you count down the minutes. 5 minutes… 3 minutes… 2 minutes… 1 minute… … He’s late… 1 minute past… 2 minutes past… 3 min-

“Okay, okay, settle down!” A voice called out as the classroom door opened, far younger than she expected and slightly familiar. “Welcome to Physics of Matter,” the voice continued as he made his way towards the board, picking up a bit of chalk and lifting it to the board as he spoke, “I am Professor Parker, but please,” he said dropping the piece of chalk back onto the little shelf at the bottom of the board, “call me Peter.” He said finally turning around.

SHIT!

DOUBLE SHIT!

You dip your head towards your page as you sink a little bit down in your seat. Hopefully he won’t notice. ‘FUCK!’ your head was suddenly screaming as all those memories of the night before flooded your brain again. His messy hair. His naked body. The way he had moaned into your cunt- FUCK!

You subtly glanced around the room from your head's dipped position. This had to be some new prank show right. There’s no way this happened in real life. There had to be cameras. He’s an actor right? Ashton Kutcher was about to burst through the classroom door shouting “YOU’VE BEEN PUNK’D” any second followed by the actual Professor Parker, right? Right?

“Now I’m not gonna ask you to get your books out this lesson,” he began to say playfully, his voice carrying around the room as he walked back and forth in front of his desk surveying his new class. “Today is about you getting to know me and me just going over all the things we are gonna be covering over the course of our year together.” He said, talking a lot with his hands. “As much as I’d love to start getting into equations with you, I’ve learnt that that tends to be futile during our first lessons. I mean, just by a show of hands, who went out drinking last night?” Professor Parker asked and a shower of hands across the room went up, Peter’s gaze scanning across the faces of the raised hands as he continued, “Keep your hand up if you’re still a little bit drunk-” his voice cut off as his eyes finally landed on you, his own oh shit face befalling him.

You felt your skin crawl as people lowered their hands and began following his gaze to you. You moved your hand up to your face as you sank down in your seat further. ‘Stop staring. Stop staring. Stop staring!’

8 HOURS EARLIER 

“I couldn’t help but see you staring.” He said as he sidled up to you. ‘Holy fuck’ he was gorgeous. Tall, lean, perfectly messy brown hair and the most delicious biceps (not too big) that were flexing under the cuffs of his fitted T-shirt you really just wanted to wrap your fingers around and squeeze. Damn. “Is she okay?” He said turning to your friend.

“Yeah she’s just-“ your roommate started before nudging you and breaking you from your hypnotised gaze on this absolute Adonis of a man. “She thinks you’re really hot!” she shouted over the music to him.”

He raised his eyebrows as he gave a small chuckle, flattered, as you cringed. They both laughed at you. “Do you wanna dance?” he asked as he took your hand.

“Yes, she does!” your friend said, pushing you off your stool. His other hand comes out to steady you as you almost slam into his chest. You blush before turning to give your roommate a death stare. 

He flashed one of those charming smiles again before he began to guide you away from her and to the dance floor. His hand doesn’t leave yours as he starts to bop and bounce, easing you both into the music. You slowly relax, smiling as a giddy feeling churns in your stomach, as you begin to bop with him to the music.

The music swells and he gives you a twirl under his arm before he pulls you closer to him. “So have you got a name or am I supposed to refer to you as flower for the rest of the night?”

You frown. “Why Flower?” 

“Isn’t that the name of the skunk in Bambi who is all quiet and has those big eyes and blushing cheeks and-”

“Don’t call me Flower.” you quickly say, slightly embarrassed by the way you had gone all goo goo eyed and helpless over him.

“Okay, then what can I call you?”

You hesitate for a second as you think about giving him your real name but what would be the fun in that, especially if this only turned out to be a one night stand. “Trouble.”

He laughs, his head dipping to hide his amusement. “Is that so?” he says from beneath his lashes. “Fine, if that’s how we’re playing it, you can call me Professor Brat Tamer, Professor for short.”

You feel your arousal soak your panties the moment he says it, the words going straight to your core. What have you gotten yourself in for? It’s like he knows too from the way he’s smirking. He turns you, pulling you back into him, his hands resting on your hips as he begins to grind himself against your ass. “Now, are you gonna be a good student?” he coos against your ear only loud enough for you to hear. “Or are you gonna be like your namesake says and cause me a whole lot of trouble?”

He can feel the way you relax your body back against him, your eyes closing as you relish in the feeling his words elicit in you. 

You smirk as you look back at him, “I’m sorry Professor, but you may have your work cut out for you.”

An hour and a half later he’s pulling you into his apartment, your back slamming hard against a wall of exposed brick as your mouth latches onto his. Both of you had done so well keeping your hands to yourself the whole way back, but the moment you got through the door it was like a starting pistol had gone off, both of you suddenly in a race for pleasure.

You moan against his mouth as his tongue slips between your teeth. You can taste his final Jack and Coke he had had before you left. Your skin felt like it was burning under his touch.

“Fuck.” You gasp as his mouth is suddenly moving across your jaw and down your neck, his teeth and stubble grazing you slightly in his hunger for you. 

“God Trouble, you sound so fucking pretty.” he coos against your chest, his hand moving to paw at your breast, bunching it up to spill over the top of your dress as he leaves wet kisses across the skin.

Your fingers wrap around his messy tresses as you pull his head back up so you can connect your mouth with his again, a small growl escaping his lips at the slight pain. You kiss him messily, both of you breathing heavily before you push him back, allowing you room to drop to your knees on the hardwood floor. Your fingers immediately begin to fight with his belt buckle, the sound of the metal clinking sending arousal straight between your own legs.

“Fuck.” He pants as he looks down at you, his hand reaching to cradle either side of your face as you pull down his jeans and his boxers in one swift pull. “Uh, baby, baby, baby.” he coos as you take his length into your mouth and immediately begin to work your tongue up and down his cock.

His fingers move away from your face, grabbing at the hem of his t-shirt and you watch as he pulls it up and over his head, exposing the rest of his body to you. Fuck he really was gorgeous. “Oh my god.” he cried out when you began to swallow his length down your throat, your nose pressing to his pelvic bone. “Uh,” he said, his head tipping back, “she’s not trouble, she’s fucking perfect.” he says as he drops his head back forward to watch you, his thumb reaching to wipe away a stray tear at the corner of your eye.

You take his length out of your mouth as you gasp for air and he thinks it’s the sexiest thing he’s ever heard. “Come here Trouble.” he says as he takes your face and chin in his hands and lifts you from the floor, pulling your lips back to his as he smashes his mouth into yours.

He begins to kick off his shoes as well as his jeans and boxers that now sit tangled around his ankles as he continues to kiss you, freeing himself so he can lift you up into his arms, your own arms throwing themselves around his neck, as he carries you to his bedroom.

You can’t help but cheekily bite at his lower lip as he stops just before the foot of the bed. “Oh she has some bite does she?” he says against your mouth. Your teeth almost clash together from how close you are as you grin, waiting to see what he’ll do or say next. “Okay,” he says as he pauses a little for dramatic effect, “I can bite back.” he says before throwing you back on the bed.

You let out a small squeal as you're caught by the mattress springs and pillows. You quickly prop yourself up on your elbows so you can see the devilish look on his face as he pulls off your heels before he stalks up the bed towards you. He leans over you, attaching his lips to yours once more, his tongue sliding deftly into your mouth and out again with every kiss until his last, when he uses it to suck your lower lip between his teeth, pulling on it. He releases it just as you’re beginning to feel it bruise, his lips instead attaching to your throat as his hands come up to pull down the top of your dress. He had already clocked that you were sans bra from how low the back of your dress was and is even more grateful now he can immediately latch himself onto your nipples, his tongue lapping at the small sensitive nibs, one and then the other.

You moan under his touch, your eyes falling closed as your head tips back, fingers gripping tightly at the covers beneath you. When he looks up at you, keening under his touch, he thinks it's the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. “Look at me baby.” he softly commands and you oblige, your chin pressing to your chest as you gaze straight into those big brown eyes. It’s the sexiest eye contact you’ve ever held. It’s like he’s fucking you with his eyes as his fingers begin to snake their way up your thighs, lifting the bottom of your dress up to your hips so he can pull down your underwear. He takes one feel of them before saying, “Fuck, trouble, these are soaked.”

You can only nod in agreement, as all words seem to have left your brain. ‘Fuck, he’s so fucking hot’ you think, as he kisses his way down your middle, over your dress until he reaches the hem where he can start kissing at your skin. You sigh, your head falling back again at the sensation of his lips kissing across your hips and then down your thighs. 

His fingers spread your legs and he gives a small nip to the inside of your thigh and you gasp at the small feeling of pain, that quickly turns to pleasure, as yet another wave of arousal floods between your legs.

“Fuck, baby, you’re dripping.” he says as his finger scoops up the arousal thats begining to drip down your thighs, bringing it up to his mouth. You watch hypnotised as he sucks on his fingers. “Damn, trouble, you tast so fucking good.” he says as he slips his fingers from his mouth. It’s so filthy. He has barely done anything and you’re a fucking goner.

His tongue suddenly crashes between your folds. “FUCK!” you cry out loudly. His fingers trace over your thighs, reaching for your own fingers which you entwine with his. He’s got his eyes closed, savouring every moan, every little gasp he pulls from you. 

He can tell you’re getting close from how your cunt begins to grind itself down against his tongue, chasing you’re high, but to allow you to have it would be too easy. He listens closely to your breathing, your moans; one… two… he suddenly moves his mouth away and you want to scream. He playfully nips at the inside of your thigh, almost hard enough to bruise. You really do scream now in frustration. “Told you I could bite.” he says coily as he mumbles against your skin. 

He licks another stripe through your folds as if in apology, as if to soothe the sting but his tongue flicks at your sensitive clit before he sucks it hard between his lips and you cry out again. “Mmmm.” he hums against your cunt, “you sound so pretty when you scream like that.”

You want to cry, you are so sensitive and overstimulated but suddenly he’s lapping at your pussy again and you’re melting back into the bed as your muscles begin to relax again with the long slow licks of his tongue.

When you both begin to feel the build of your climax again he doesn’t pull away this time. He lets you have it, your thighs closing around his head, hips bucking off the bed as the wave of pleasure crashes over you. He keeps going, his mouth lapping up everything you’ll give him until you're pulling yourself away from him. Tears well in the corners of your eyes from the over stimulation as you pant and whine and rub your thighs together, desperate for the feeling to dissipate. He grabs at your ankles, holding you still as you flop back into the pillows at the top of the bed.

“So good for me Trouble, you’re doing so good.” he says as he crawls up the bed to kiss you. 

Although he’s wiped at his mouth, the taste of you still remains and you lick it off every part of his mouth you can reach as he settles himself between your legs.

His hands slide up your thighs before they’re grabbing ahold of your waist and suddenly he’s flipping you, his head crashing into the pillows as you straddle his hips. Your lips race to chase his as you continue to pant breathlessly into his mouth, another flood of arousal soaking between your legs. 

His fingers reach for the bottom of your dress, lifting it up and off your head, leaving you finally, completely naked before him. “Fuck, trouble,” he moans as his eyes drink you in, “has anyone told you how absolutely fucking perfect you are.” You giggle and blush as you lean down to kiss him. “No. No. Look at me.” he says as he takes your head in his hands and moves you away from him so you have to look at him. He’s giving you that look with his eyes again as he holds your face in place, not allowing you to break eye contact with him for one single moment as he begins to grind his hips up against you, his rock hard cock grinding against your clit. Your mouth falls open in a silent gasp. “So fucking perfect.” he repeats. “Now tell me, trouble, how do you want me to fuck you?” You can’t think, your eyes closing as you try to focus your thoughts as his skin drags across your clit teasingly. He gently taps your cheek with his fingers, forcing you to open your eyes and look at him. “Eyes on me Trouble,” he says, “find your words, tell me how you want me to fuck you.”

You shake your head as you close your eyes again, really unable to think. “Options.” you say breathlessly, your eyes flying open, before he can punish you for breaking eye contact again. “Give me options.” 

“Okay.” he concedes with a small nod and a smile. “Okay, pretty girl.” he repeats again soothingly as he pulls you back down closer to him, his lips kissing you sweetly and encouragingly, aware he’s over stimulating your brain. “I can fuck you like this.” he says as he looks into your eyes. His hand slowly trails down to wrap around your throat, his other hand still cradling the back of your head as he flips you again. “Or I can fuck you like this.” he says as he continues to slowly grind himself against your sex. “Or,” he says as he lowers his head down to the crook of your neck, breathing you in deeply as he speaks directly into your ear, “I can flip you over and fuck you from behind.” You sigh as his words go straight to your core again.

“The last one.” you say breathlessly as your eyes close.

“MMM.” he hums into your ear as his teeth nip at your jaw, satisfied with your response. He pushes you back into the bed slightly as he lifts himself onto his knees, his hands moving away from your face and you watch him eagerly as you await his next move. He leans over to the bedside table, reaching into the draw for a condom, lazily tugging at his length with one hand whilst he uses his teeth and the other hand to open it up. You’re almost starring as he’s rolling it down the length of his cock, fully taking in his erect size. He smirks when he looks up to notice you nibbling at your lower lip.

“Come here, trouble.” he says before he’s flipping you over, your head finding a comfortable position on the pillow as he lifts your ass into the air. 

He slides his fingers down your opening before placing two fingers slowly inside you, stretching you out and you let out another breathy moan at the feeling. He pumps them in and out of you a couple more times before he slowly lets them slide out of you, his fingertips dragging agonisingly across your clit before he uses them to pump his cock again a couple times, shifting himself into position.

His fingers grip tightly onto your hips as he lines himself up and slowly pushes himself inside you, your back arching with the stretch, head shifting as you let out another moan of satisfaction into the pillow. “Mmm, let me hear you baby.” he says as his hand removes itself from your hip to reach for the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair as he turns your head back towards him.

“Fuck.” you hiccup as he pulls himself out little by little before he’s slamming his hips forward against your ass, pushing himself in even deeper.

“Fuck, trouble. So fucking tight for me.” 

You lose all ability to speak as he begins fucking into you, slowly building his pace until he’s fucking into you at a wicked speed. You want to scream again, your face screwing up in ecstasy as his cock continuously hits that spot inside you that makes you want to explode. His other hand reaches around for your throat, pulling you back up as he leans over you so he can stick his tongue back into your mouth. It adjusts his angle somehow, making the feeling in your cunt even more intense. Your mouth falls open as he holds it there, you’re panting and moaning into his mouth. “Look at me.” he encourages as his thumb rubs soothingly across your jaw. You can’t help but obliged. 

It’s too much. It’s the hottest, most filthiest sex you’ve ever had. You know you’ll never be the same again. Nothing, no one, will ever compare to this. “Please, please, please.” you find yourself repeating as your eyes close again. You’re so close and he knows it because your cunt is constricting like a vice around his cock. 

He moves his hand down to circle at your clit between your legs. “Come on, trouble, give it to me,” he coaches, “Fuck, baby!” he snarls against your mouth as he smashes his lips to yours again, pulling at your lips bruisingly. 

You pull your mouth away from him, wailing, gasping for breath as your body convulses around him, his pace only slowing slightly to help you ride out your climax. “So good.” he coos, “My trouble, so fucking good for me. Atta girl.”

His pace is steady as he feels you begin to relax again but you’re still so stimulated. You’re surprised he’s still going. “Your turn.” you say to him breathlessly and he smiles. When he doesn’t say anything you decide to push your luck. “How do you want to fuck me?” you coo, now you’re the one who’s eye fucking him.

You watch as he closes his eyes, head falling back. He chuckles then, something low and devious. He suddenly pulls out of you. It makes you feel so empty. You’re about to whine but then he’s flipping you over and pulling your legs together and then over his shoulder as he bends you in half. He lines himself back up with your entrance and slips back in with ease and you gasp as he bottoms out, the position making him hit that devastating spot inside you instantly. He leans all the way over so he can kiss you, his mouth swallowing every moan, gasp and breath that leaves your mouth as he pounds down into you like something fierce.

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.” you whine as the sensitivity grows too much. His pelvis is slamming against your clit with every thrust. Now you really are crying, your eyes rolling back in your head as you feel yourself clamping down on his cock again. 

“Oh my god, baby.” he says. “You’re so fucking wet. So fucking good. Such a good fucking girl.”

It’s a guttural wail you let loose into the room as you cum and his head dips down as he buries himself in the crook of your neck, his thrusts growing even faster as he chases his high. “Stay with me, Trouble,” he says, trying to ground you. He lifts his head, hand reaching for your face, forcing you to look at him. “Just a little bit longer, baby, just a little bit-” but he can’t finish his words. He’s so fucking close. One pump, two- he suddenly stills as he buries himself inside you, his forehead pressing into yours grounding you both as he pumps his seed into the condom inside you. You whine at the feeling of his cock pulsating against the still extremely sensitive spot inside you.

“You did so good.” His voice reassures as he strokes soothingly across your cheek forcing you to look at him as you breathe deeply and heavily in your come down. “So fucking good.” he says as he kisses your forehead before slipping out of you. 

With his body no longer crowding you you fully relax back into his sheets, your eyes closing as you try to regulate. You think you might even pass out. You think you may even have blacked out for a second, but you know you haven’t as your eyes fly open and your body jumps at the feeling of a cool damp cloth between your legs.

He watches you content as you suddenly relax once more, the cool washcloth doing wonders to soothe the hot swollen feeling between your legs as he cleans you up. You definitely black out then, completely exhausted.

You are disturbed again a few minutes later, a soft reassuring hand brushing up your legs. “Here.” his voice says softly as he sits on the side of the bed next to you, waiting for you to open your eyes and look at him so he can pass you a glass of water.

The cold liquid does wonders to help regulate your temperature and you can’t help but stare at him again in wonder as he sits before you in a pair of flannel pyjama bottoms. He leans over you, kissing the top of your head, breaking you from your sex induced stupor.

“You can stay if you want.” You nod your head, you have no energy to move yet.

“Okay.” he says with a soft smile as he takes the now mostly empty glass from your fingers. “I’m gonna go get you another one of these,” he says motioning to the glass now in his hands, “you go to the toilet, there’s a spare toothbrush under the sink, get yourself ready for bed and when you get back we can cuddle.”

You still have no words, just dociley nod and agree. You wobble slightly as you try to stand, blood rushing back to your limbs and his hand reaches out to steady you. “I’ve got it, I’ve got it.” You say as you sway slightly and wave him away.

He just chuckles. “Whatever you say, trouble.”

You crawl into bed beside him 5 minutes later, tucking yourself into his side as his arm wraps around you. “You really are Professor Brat Tamer huh?” you joke as you nestle into his bare chest.

“And don’t you know it.” he smiles, pulling you tighter into his side so he can place a kiss to the top of your head.

You wake just after 6am, sneaking from his bed with a smile on your face as you pick up your clothes before doing the walk of shame back to your student halls. The sun is just coming up and the leaves are just starting to change, you can still feel the alcohol in your system as well as the after effects of your orgasms and you know, although you’re tired, today is gonna be a great first day… or was it?

________________________-

@tarzinnia @withahappyrefrain @xenasolos @sincericida

Is this a one off? I don't know. Is there a lot of room for this to turn into a collection of shorts... yeah, maybe.

[pedrosman]

Would love to see oberyn, dieter, Frankie and Marcus stories! Especially if they are tops against a bottom reader

AN- YES YES YES YES! here is a pretty long (sorry i got carried away) one shot fic

Do you want to have sex with me?

Pairing: Dieter Bravo (the bubble) x Male!Reader

Word count: 4000 ish

Summary: you work on set as an assistant cinematographer, you have been noticing Dieter looking at you weird all day.

Warnings: SMUT! 18+ MDNI!, Dieter Bravo, fic takes place during the bubble, you are working on set, Age Gap! P in A! Unprotected, Drug use! Top! Dieter Bravo, bot! Reader, small use of y/n

Feel free to give me feedback and tips, this is my first full fic. Also very open to submission, muh luh muh only lol

I am so fucking done with this film. The directors on Cliff Beasts Six, the newest instalment of the oh-so-amazing “Cliff Beasts” franchise, aren’t interested in anything but making a cheque, and it shows. Neither the actors nor anyone on set are engaged, and there is a palpable sense of boredom between everyone.

I, y/n, aged 19, applied for this position as an assistant cinematographer to get out of my shitty apartment and finally attempt to gain some experience in the film industry. How insightful it has been. Days of sitting by as the stuck-up actors on Cliff Beasts 6 (seriously 6??) argue over a script that has probably (definitely) been made through Chatgpt. It is amusing to watch though, watching how they bicker over the delivery of a single line, whilst everyone else just stands and watches idly. How invigorating. What I wouldn't give to just tell them all to shut the fuck-

“Hey! Runner! What the fuck are you doing standing on set? We're about to shoot!”

Oh shit, I’ve fucking done it. Now these fucking A-listers are staring at me like I’ve shot their half-dead Bichon Frise, but I still haven’t moved an inch.

“What the fuck is your problem? MOVE!” the voice calls out again.

“Uh, shit... My bad” I mumble as I stumble over the fake ground onto the warehouse floor. “That was great y/n, real smooth” I think as I curse under my breath towards the hostility of the director who has been doing nothing but sit on his ass and attempt to blow 0’s with his oversized vape. But seriously, I was barely on set, not even within proximity to the actors, or where the camera was supposed to run through. I slink towards the wall, enshadowed by the stacks upon stacks of props of dinosaur eggs, embarrassment manifesting onto my face in a burning shade of scarlet. With my head mow staring so intently at the scratch marks of the floor, avoiding the gaze of every single person on Earth, I run a shaky hand through my outgrown and bleach-damaged hair. I want to disappear right now.

I stay in the shadows silently, still not daring to look up at the scene the actors now play through. Instead, I listen to their half-assed attempts of acting fearful of the blue blob that will be the mother dinosaur to all the eggs I hide behind. Seriously, this film is genuinely a game of connect-the-dots on stereotypical children's interests. It’s humourable, how absurd they sound, screaming about some random nonsensical bullshit with a monotone seriousness. Looking up, I watch the flurry of movement on set, studying how the camera pans from the actors to the blue wall behind them. It’s better to focus on the elements I came here to study, rather than the shitshow that is the film. Whilst I stare, I catch a glimpse of a man in a red jacket looking my way, hidden behind the rocks and eggs. Turning my attention towards him, I notice his clenched jaw and deadpan focus on me.

“Shit, my fuckup on set must have really pissed him off” I mutter under my breath whilst my eyes stay locked onto him. We stay like that for a few seconds, mixed emotions manifesting on my face, whilst he just stares. Lifting my eyes slightly, we make eye contact, prompting a wave of realisation to wash over his face, and he promptly turns his direction back to discussions on the next scene. It makes sense, his change in demeanour. If I was a fucking celebrity, the last thing I would want is a scandal of workplace abuse blown out of proportion.

___________

They’ve wrapped up today’s shooting. Thank God. The rest of the shoot was relatively uneventful, I was only asked to help set up a few camera scenes whilst the actors took their lunch break. However, that actor in the red jacket kept on looking my way, but only for a fleeting few seconds each time. It was bizarre really, how many times I swear I caught him staring: between scenes, during script conversations (arguments really), whenever the actors left the set. It was comical how I would see his head turn away from my direction in parallel to whenever I looked in his. What the fuck is his problem? Anyways. Hiding my glee, I turn away from the remaining crew on set, embarking back to the hotel where the cast and crew were staying. I put earphones in as I walk, putting “Never Let Me Down Again” by Depache Mode on blast and loop (tlou reference), watching the sky warp and twist with clouds straight out of Junji Ito. As I walk, I picture how much I would change about the godforsaken cash grab of a film: the story, the camera angles, the compositions, the-

“Hey.” A breathless voice behind me whispers, barely audible over the drums blaring into my ears. Turning, I immediately freeze, in the realisation that this was the red jacket man, the one with the fucking lead paint stare. What the fuck does he want?

“Oh! Hey. Look man, if you’re pissed that I was standing on set, I genuinely didn’t realise. I didn’t mean to look like a dick. I’m really sor-”

“Do you want to have sex with me?” He asks.

“What?”

“Do you want to have sex with me?” He repeats, louder.

“I heard you the first time,” I reply, stunned, eyes blinking at him widely.

“Oh, well do you?” He questions, voice full of intent.

“Uhh”, what the fuck do I say? Is he fucking high?

“Yes? That's amazing, now?” he follows, oblivious to my stunned face. He grips my hand tight, and begins to pull me towards the hotel. More for his welfare, I allow him to. If he is high, I sure as hell wouldn’t want to have to deal with an overdose, pushing back the shooting back date further.

“What’s your name? Mine’s Dieter Bravo, but you probably already know that. You know, Oscar Winner?” He asks excitedly, almost desperately.

“What?”

“What’s your name?” He repeats, obviously unfocused on me, but rather the journey ahead, which he slinks across, acting like a fucking ninja.

“Oh, y/n”. I reply flatly, still stunned by his blunt and forward character.

“So fucking beautiful, you know that? You’re so fucking beautiful. Couldn’t keep my eyes off you. Please let me fuck you?” He grumbles, eyes now locked onto mine, searching, savouring me.

“Sorry, but are you high?” I question, anxiety creeping up from my stomach. I seriously don’t want this to come off badly. God knows what he can do to my career, with the amount of money and “power”  that he holds.

“Oh! Just some coke, do you want some? I’ve got a fat stash back in my room, you’ll just have to ignore the paintings.

What do I say? First, he wants to fuck me, and now he’s offering me cocaine?

“Ummm, I’m okay actually,” I reply, eyes glued to his firm grip on my hand, leading me through the hotel like a stealth mission, stopping behind couches and desks, pulling me under them to hide from various staff and other residents. I swear we crept past Karen Gillan at one point. We continue this charade of playing ninjas until we stop at a door, undoubtedly his room’s.

“Wait, do you seriously want to fuck me?” I start, a chuckle bubbling underneath my voice. “I mean, you’re a fucking A-lister and you’re high off coke right now”. This entire situation is so absurd I cannot.

“You’re an angel y/n, and I’m so pent up right now, I feel like an animal.” He replies, voice full of truth. And he isn’t wrong at all. On our journey, I had noticed him grabbing his crotch a few more times than necessary, and adjusting it quite a lot too. Truthfully, it did make me question whether or not I would submit to his desperate plea for pleasure.

“Fuck.”

I genuinely think he wants to fuck me.

“Fine. Okay. I think we can do this.” There. I said it. Listening to my own voice consent to having sex with Dieter fucking Bravo generates a wave of excited shivers across my body, mirroring the relieved smile that sprawls across his face.

“Let’s have some fun.”

___________

Inside his room, it is clear to see that the restrictions in the bubble have taken a toll on him. Scattered across the walls there are various paintings depicting almost hellish figures, staring down at us. As I study them, Dieter dims the lights and begins to undress, changing into nothing but a dressing gown. Anticipation creeps across my body, giving my head a slight buzz. Turning to me, Dieter’s chest becomes visible: scattered lightly with hair, but enough to give them a fuzzy look and feel. His thighs also peek out nicely, thick and inviting. Jesus Christ, why did the costume department dress him so ugly? This scruffy, out-of-bed look is much more attractive, and the colour of his gown suits him much better than the neon of his Character’s jacket. As I force my eyes to peel away from his body, I notice him staring directly at me. In exactly the same way as earlier today. Was that his flirting? Or dropping hints? I thought he wanted to kill me, but I guess he just wanted me. Instead of hatred, his eyes are filled with lust and animalistic intent, he wants me like a fucking drug.

“So-” I begin, stopped by his hand suddenly covering my mouth. His proximity engulfs me with his scent: musky, woody, sweaty and also quite sweet, almost floral. His dick has definitely been leaking for a while. Stepping even closer, our chests almost touching, he stares down at me, eyes burning into my own. Slowly, he removes his hand off my mouth and grabs my chin, pulling my face up to look at him. We stay in silence like this for a few seconds, both reading each other's faces, enveloped in the erotic tension.

“You’re so beautiful, y/n.”

And with that, the tension breaks, cascading us in a downpour of lust and need. Our bodies clash, pushing and pulling each other closer, our hips grinding as we kiss. His lips are chapped, but still soft, scratching over mine satisfyingly. His tongue reaches into my mouth while mine battles its way into his, both attempting to overcome the other. They connect and move over each other slickly, electrifying my body and increasing my newfound desire for Dieter. As we make out, our faces push closer and closer, his beard scruff dancing over my skin, their path leaving an electrifying buzz. I smile as we kiss, intoxicated by his desire, his desperation for sex. As we kiss, I can feel his growing boner press against my hip, shrouded by his gown that sports quite a large tent. He groans against me, a guttural sound that reverberates in my mouth. I push into that feeling further, watching him become completely engrossed in our French kiss. His hands roam freely, moving away from my face and down my arms, and stopping with our fingers interlocked. Suddenly, he pushes me down onto his bed, dipping his head down to not break our kiss. Seemingly unwillingly, our mouths depart and he stands above me.

His gown is barely holding in his package, The ribbon basically untied, but keeping his manhood hidden. It is very evident that he intends to give a show, which I think is quite comical. Of course, the fucking celebrity actor would want to take control of this scene and make me savour his big reveal.

Teasingly, he starts by grabbing my hand and trailing it down his chest. I take the liberty of pinching his nipples lightly, evoking an involuntary moan. Then, he pulls my hand down lower, whilst I run my fingers through his chest hair. In the dim lighting, the glow golden, with hints of silver, no doubt a reminder of our age gap. But he doesn’t care, and neither do I. He stops my hand at the knot of the ribbon and lets go.

“If he gets to enjoy this, then so do I” I think, taking my time to admire his treasure trail and the bottom of his stomach. I playfully teeter around the ribbon knot, teasing him as he did me.

“Please.” He speaks with a whisper, eyes full of longing and need. But I can feel him hold himself back, avoiding rushing our moment.

Complying, I swiftly undo the knot, and allow the robe to fall to the sides of his legs.

Fuck.

His cock fell forward towards me with undeniable intent. It definitely reached past seven inches, and under the soft glow, the glossiness of precum over its head was undeniable. A soft gasp emerged from the depths of my throat as I stared, entranced. Dieter’s cock was going to be the death of me.

“Suck it.”

Looking up at Dieter, I could see him shift away from his desperate self towards a more dominant one. He and I both knew that this was going to be intense. His eyes held a fury in them, driven by his need to fuck. It definitely had been a while since he had got any action. I guess that many others he must have asked didn't hear him out at all. The veins in his dick were so defined, throbbing with an urgency. With each throb, a glob of precum spilt out, coating his manhood in a thick, slick lube. Fuck.

Staring up into his eyes, I leant forward and licked his tip. As I did, I watched his entire body shake, an involuntary reaction to how touch-starved he was. A moan emerged from the back of his throat, guttural and low, making my skin form into goosebumps.

I began to lower myself further down his cock, slowly pressing my face into his hair. I could smell the sweat from the day’s work that coated his cock and balls, creating a sweet but heavy aroma that caused me to moan onto his dick. I inhaled sharply, catching every whiff that I could, intoxicated. Still staring into his deep, pleading eyes, I stopped sucking and moved to his balls, placing one into my mouth and sucking teasingly, inhaling his scent. His dick lay over my face with a distinct weight, thrusting into my hair, coating my skin with his precum. Still keeping eye contact, I watched his mouth open and close, gawking and stunned by the pleasure he was experiencing. I swapped between his balls and cock regularly, making sure to never break eye contact, watching Dieter fall further and further into a lust-driven state. Whilst I sucked, I could feel his thighs shaking with ecstasy. Keeping him in my mouth, I wrapped and slithered my tongue up the base and around his head. I revelled in the salty taste of his precum, savouring every drop. I slipped my tongue under his hood, running at the base of his head. This prompted another series of involuntary moans on his behalf, stimulating my own cock to start throbbing through my clothes, desperate for touch.

Without warning, I felt his hands on the back of my head, gripping tightly into my hair. Immediately, he started thrusting into me, fucking my mouth. His thrusts were in quick succession, fueled by excessive desire. He filled my mouth entirely, his taste coating every surface, saliva dripping from the sides of my face and down the base of his cock. The room was filled with the scent of sweat and musk and the sound of his balls slapping onto my jaw whilst he let out desperate pants and groans. His movements were frantic and obsessive, gripping into my hair with a desperate need. His hands were clammy, his fingers locking and slipping around my curls whilst he fucked my face. Tears streamed down my face whilst Dieter abused my mouth, ignoring my gags and moans. My cock was so fucking hard, pressing into my trousers with a desperate need to be touched. Jesus fucking Christ.

His thrusting became more rapid, and his moans increased in volume and speed. He was growling with such animalistic intent, in total heat whilst wrecking my face.

“Ah- fuck- I’m gonna cum baby-”

His seed filled my mouth with a final thrust, letting out a hoarse and guttural succession of moans. We stayed there for a few seconds, his breathing heavy, and his body shuddering above me. His cum was so sweet and thick, forcing me to gulp down loads of mess. Pulling out from my mouth, the rest of his seed leaving him. In a trance, I felt him pushing it over my cheeks and lips, coating me with his sperm. Looking up at him whilst it dripped down to my chin, his eyes full of relief and pleasure.

“Holy Shit.” I didn’t know what to say.

“Ready for more, angel?”

Dieter flopped onto the bed next to me, his breath heavy.

Immediately, he turned towards me, planting his chapped lips onto mine. We kissed passionately, fueled by a connection previously inconceivable. His hands explored my body, tugging up my T-shirt and kneading his hands into my skin. He was rough, dominant and needing. He gripped the bare skin of my back tightly, pulling me closer to him, our bodies pressing and interlocking tightly. Reaching down the back of my trousers, I felt his finger pressing on my hole. He circled his finger around my entrance, pressing slightly, causing a moan to emerge from my lips. Removing his hands from my ass and his mouth from mine, he placed his fingers into my mouth.

“Spit.”

Instinctively, I did. Immediately, He went back to my asshole, inserting his index slowly, causing my back to arch into him. He pressed in and out, loosening my hole slowly. I couldn’t stop moaning into him, pushing myself down further against him. As he finger fucked my hole, he started thrusting bare body against me, grinding his cock across my thigh, dripping precum onto my trousers. Slowly, almost timidly, he reached down my body to my bulge, applying pressure heavily. Holy Shit. I was in ecstasy, in pure bliss and overstimulation. He unbuttoned my trousers desperately, fueled by desire, exposing my boxers to the room. The front was wet with precum, clinging to my member.

Suddenly, he straddled on top of me, pulling down my trousers and boxers to my ankle. Immediately, my cock sprung up to my belly button, leaving a small pool of precum. Removing all my clothes fully, leaving my body exposed to the dim room, he lifted my legs, resting them on his shoulders.

He quickly lubed my hole, pushing his finger deep into me as he did so. It shocked me, engrossing me in a sudden wave of pleasure. Then, positioning his dick, I felt his member push into me slowly, meeting resistance from my hole, straining against his girth.

“Fuck, so goddamn tight”, he grunted, pressing slightly harder. With a satisfying pop, his tip entered, arching my neck back. I looked deep into his eyes, unable to generate sound from the pure ecstasy. Gently, he inserted his deep length inside me, making low cooing noises, soothing my discomfort. Eventually, he was fully inside me, my hole wrapped around his cock. We stayed unmoving, Dieter engrossed with how my ass clung to his dick desperately. Teasingly, I moved my ass slightly, pulling his cock deeper into me, now fully balls deep.

“Oh”, a soft moan escaped his mouth, wrapping around me in the silent room. Soon followed the clear sound of his dick pulling out and pushing back, his balls slapping my cheeks.  Dieter's hands wrapped around mine, pushing me back completely against the bed, and leaned closer, going deeper and stretching my legs higher. Quickly, his thrusts increased, engulfing us in moans and soft-spoken curses towards each other. Wave after wave of pleasure buzzed my head and made my tip throb. His lips met mine and we started kissing, fueled by desire and need. He fucked me mercilessly, stretching my hole wide to fit his girth and length nicely. His breath was heavy into my mouth, followed by growls that made my cock twitch. His beard scratched my face nicely, sending small bursts of pain, heightening my sensitive state.

I could feel my orgasm rising, my cock head getting hot and my cock throbbing. I couldn’t even let out any noise to warn Dieter,  assuddenly I was engulfed in a blinding wave of hot bliss from his onslaught on my prostate. Spurts of cum erupted from my cock, painting out stomachs, tying us together. Yet Dieter didn’t stop, fueled by my pleasure. Instead, his thrusts increased, overstimulating my entire body. I felt his hands move from mine to the back of my head, pushing me to look directly into his eyes. His thrusts were relentless, going deeper each time, stretching my insides into his personal fucktoy. My moans were neverending, creating a chorus with Dieter’s deep growls. Still looking into my eyes, he leant his body onto mine, and began to absolutely abuse my hole. He fucked me like a dog, his eyes seemingly glowing with pure energy and pleasure. Picking up even more speed, I felt his manhood throb, close to coming again.

“Where do you want it,” is all he could ask between heavy breaths, holding back his orgasm with undefined strength.

“In me.”

I felt Dieter erupt in me, his load filling every crevice. It leaked out my asshole, down the base of his member. Pulling out completely, he admired his work, then pushed himself back in, impregnanting me again. We moaned into each other, kissing messily, completely in the moment. He stayed inside me for a few minutes, getting soft as we just laid there, comprehending what we had just done. Pulling out, my hole was a gaping mess, leaking with his seed.

Lying next to me, cum dripping off his cock, his face became plastered with a smile. He scooped up a glob of his cum, mixed it with the pool of mine on my stomach, and brought it to my lips.

“Swallow.” I did.

“Good.”

The world was so silent. Neither of us spoke, our breaths slowing gradually. Turning to him, looking into his eyes, I could tell he was eternally grateful, and I was happy too with being his bitch, even though it was so wrong. But it was so right.

“Can we make this a weekly thing? I asked, desperate for him again.

“Weekly? Nah. Daily?” He replied. He was addicted. To me, to my body, to how our bodies moved in unison, driven by lust and depravation.

A small chuckle emerged from his chest. A hearty laugh, melting my belly into a hot mess. A comfortable laugh, like a warm hug after a shitty day.

I wouldn’t mind getting addicted to Dieter.

[notjustjavierpena]

Ubi tu Gaius, ego Gaia: Chapter II

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: I'm so sorry for the very long wait. I ended up separating the chapter into two parts because it ended up being 13k. Hope you can forgive me!

Chapter Summary: In which you get married to the General. 

Pairing: General Marcus Acacius x f!reader/you (no y/n)

Chapter warnings: +18, arranged marriage, historical sexism, probably historical inaccuracies, large age gap, religion in the form of Roman Gods, shitty parents, anxieties over wedding night

Word count: 5k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57443332/chapters/151335016#workskin

Chapter II: A wonderful day for a wedding

Due to the warm night, it doesn’t surprise you when dawn brings the most beautiful sunrise all year. The landscape outside is bathed in gold and when you gently guide a lost bee out of your bedroom window, you feel the warmth of the sunshine prickle your skin.

You have a great deal to do before the carriage ride to the Acacius estate, so you hurry through breakfast - bread and cheese with herbs - to make sure there are enough hours in the morning for your bath, your grooming, and your dress preparations. 

You gently wash off the sweat and sleep from last night by rubbing slow circles down your arms, legs, and chest with a piece of soaked cloth. The excitement pools in your belly as you focus on the dream wedding belonging to the little girl in your heart happening today. The fact that it is arranged by your parents doesn’t diminish the fact that your tunic is beautiful and the festivities will be worthy of the Gods. You have no tears and concerns for Cassius left, you say to yourself, or at least, you’re not allowing yourself to have any left. 

“A perfect day for a wedding,” your mother says as she brings you more water for your bath instead of the maids, pouring the freshly hot water into the tub by your feet. Afterward, she moves to sit on a chair behind you to wash your hair. 

“Mother,” you say while she tilts your head forward, pouring water over the back of your neck, “I want jasmine flowers in the wedding crown, can we please have a maid pick some from the garden? Marcus— I mean, General Acacius will be impressed if I remember our conversation from yesterday.” 

The warm water feels soothing as it cascades down your shoulders, even more soothing is your mother’s fingers detangling your hair with practiced care. You spot her in the full-body mirror along the wall, her face sporting an affectionate smile, “Jasmine is his favorite? The General told you this? He must like you, my daughter.” 

“Mother, we barely know each other,” you let out a little laugh and turn your head back to look up at her. She grins down at you, smoothing her palm over your wet hair to squeeze out some excess water.

“Yet you already care what he thinks,” she points out with a slight hint of teasing. You splash a few drops of water in her direction and she acts outraged in only the way a mother can. The both of you laugh, the bubbling feeling warm in your chest until you also feel melancholic. The feeling that you should have had last night comes creeping up on you now.

“I’m gonna miss you and father,” you say softly and she wraps her arms around you from behind, not caring about getting her clothes wet if it means squeezing you enough to make you feel how much she loves you.

“I’ve been through this two times already. You know we still see both of your sisters. I am not sending you off to another country,” she soothes, rocking you from side to side and pecking the top of your head. You reach up to hold her wrist. 

“I know this but I’m the last bird leaving the nest,” you reply with eye contact in the mirror, corners of your mouth turning downward. You sigh quietly. 

“And father and I will finally be able to have some peace around here,” she tries to make you laugh again. When it doesn���t happen, the tone of her voice changes into something more serious, “I know everything feels safe and familiar here but you will grow to love your new life. Change is good.”

“I still feel like a child,” you lean back into her and stare down at the water that is growing colder, “You should have seen me trying to have a conversation with him yesterday. He is much older and more experienced than I am. I made a fool of myself not just once.”

“Listen to me, dearest,” she releases you from the confines of her arms and lifts your head to find your gaze in the mirror again, “I know that this is not a matter of love. I understand, my dear. This union is a great responsibility, but it can also be an even greater source of joy and strength for you. Your father and I have always wanted what’s best for you, even in situations where it might seem like it is only to our own advantage. Yet think about the possibilities this match will bring you; you will be the wife of a general. You can do anything.”

You nod with an understanding that is still marked by sorrow for the life you will leave behind, the dream of true love delivered by Cupid himself that will not be fulfilled now, “Yes, Mother.”

“And I will say this with confidence,” she continues, now with a gleam of pride in her eyes, “You are not a child, in fact, you have grown into a remarkable young woman. One that you can be very proud of. I know I am.”

A smile tugs at the corners of your mouth and eventually, you cannot hold back the breath of air that you have been holding. Your eyes are watery, your mouth grinning with teeth from being reassured so affectionately by your mother. You suppose that you can get through this day with those words playing on your mind, “You had that rehearsed, did you not?”

“Not at all, came straight from the heart,” she giggles and gets up from her seat. She walks to stand at your side, offering you her hand, “Now, let’s get you out of the tub and make you more beautiful than even Goddess Venus herself. Today is a celebration of everything you’ve become and everything you will achieve with your husband. However, remember that General Acacius is even more fortunate to have you and your heart by his side.”

“Thank you, Mother,” you say as she helps you to your feet, holding you steady as you step over the edge of the bathtub. 

She wraps a linen cloth around you, “I’ll send for the flowers right away. The tailor has already been with your tunic this morning, I’ve had the maids hang it in your room.” 

“Perfect,” you smile. You leave the bathroom while another ancilla - a maid - empties the tub, hangs the linen towel to dry, and mops excess water from the floor. 

As you make your way back to your bedroom, you notice your home is abuzz with servants doing all sorts of tasks to ensure a perfect day. They pass you with kind smiles and congratulations, carrying wine in jugs and baskets of fruit and vegetables, freshly baked bread, and flowers for decorating. 

You think back to Marcus’ beautiful garden, wondering how it is taking shape to be the venue for your union. The red roses are sure to compliment your red veil, the marble the golden embroidery on your tunic too. 

But then, as you enter your room, you think about Cassius’ words from last night. In less than a day, you will belong to one of the most powerful families in all of the empire and despite this, it sounded like it did not ensure you the safety that your father had foreseen with this match. Quite the contrary, it seems like you are getting into something that’ll wash the pink and fluffy clouds away. 

However, the concerned thoughts last only a moment as your gaze falls on the beautiful tunic hanging on the wall, just out of the sun’s rays. You smile and sigh, brushing the woven fabric delicately with your hand. It is long and white, embroidered with squared patterns along the shoulder seams and down the short sleeves. You know that Marcus’ own attire will have the same stitching and color, signaling that the two of you are weaved together from now on. 

The veil hangs beside it and is as red as the fires that you have seen built for sacrifices to the Gods. Your mother has taught you enough during wedding preparations for you to know exactly what it is supposed to symbolize; you will be given to General Acacius today and you will belong to him in the same manner as the many gifts that have been given to the many Roman deities, like the coin you tossed in the fountain for Fortuna. 

After taking the tunic off the hook on the wall, you let the linen around your body fall to the floor and slip your wedding attire on. You sit down on the chair by your vanity and gaze at your reflection in the mirror, staring at the woman you have become in such a short time.

You adjust the neckline of the garment, smoothing out any crease that makes you seem less than perfect and then you grab your hairbrush to start detangling your hair. After having brushed your hair for a while and getting lost in the mindless task, a knock on your door distracts your thoughts. 

You quickly get up to hurriedly step behind the room divider in the corner, not wanting to reveal your look before it has gotten its final touches or in case the person seeking entry is your father. 

“Come in,” you say when you are hidden from view. 

However, it is your mother again who carries the wedding crown, which has now gotten beautiful jasmine flowers weaved into it. From the sound of the different footsteps, you deduce that she is followed by two servant girls who have come to help you with the remaining details of your outfit.

“I brought Lupa and Nidia to help you,” she chirps, hands the wedding crown to Lupa with the utmost care, and then gently sits down on the chair by the vanity. She waits as the girls join you behind the screen, “Quickly now, we have to be ready to go in half an hour.”

Nidia has gotten the veil from its spot on the wall, now draping it over the top of your head while Lupa secures it with the flower crown. You can smell the jasmine, feel the soft fabric of the red veil brush your bare arms, and suddenly, the weight of today begins to bear down on your shoulders. You swallow thickly as you look at yourself in the full-body mirror. This summer has changed you since you got the news of your arranged union, and suddenly, as you look at yourself at this moment, you are surprised to see that a bride stares back at you. 

“You look perfect,” Nidia says softly as if sensing your nervousness. She holds your gaze in the mirror and smiles a little when Lupa joins in with a happy, agreeing nod, the both of them adjusting the veil to cascade down your back gracefully. 

“Thank you,” you say gratefully and relax a bit more. At least how you look is going to be talked about the most but then again, will this enhance your future husband’s desire? What will happen when he gets you alone in his chambers? You shake the thought, not used to the idea of being perceived in such a fashion even if you tasted the idea yesterday, “Okay, I think I am ready.”

As you step out from behind the divider, your mother radiates maternal pride and clasps her hands together, “Oh, by Venus, you are radiant! I don’t know what your father was doing with all his worry.”

You try not to overthink that statement and act casual, very much aware that you have not seen him today. Instead, you ask, “Where is father?” 

“He has gone back and forth between our home and the General’s many times today. I suppose that he wants everything to be perfect for you and make you happy,” she keeps her voice high-pitched and cheerful but you can feel your gut telling you that she isn’t completely convinced either. She may have been making jest of you being the last of her daughters to marry but you know that your father sees you as more of a chess piece - the final move out of three - than his blood.

In your wedding attire, sparkling as Lupa gets the box of jewelry and Nadia adorns you in gold, you think again of the way your father had handled the negotiations of your marriage; how little concern he had shown for your thoughts on the matter, and, possibly without intending to, made it clear that this isn’t about love or even your happiness. It is about influence, power, and ascension to something right under the Gods.

“He’s always wanted things to be perfect for us,” you say with a forced smile, though your mother doesn’t seem to notice the strain on your face, “Ever since we were little, it was always about making sure we made the right connections, the right alliances.”

Your mother looks up at you, not quite as oblivious as she tries to convince you of. Her smile softens, “It’s just his way, my dear. He wants the best for you, for all of us, and you like the General! I can tell.”

The best for him, perhaps. You dare ask a question that can only exist between women who understand that you live in a world ruled by men. “Mother, do you think he would have arranged this if General Acacius had been… cruel?”

The silence that follows is thick, and in that moment, you realize that the answer may not be one you want to hear. You stare at her, brows furrowed as you wait for her to say something, but in the end, she avoids your gaze completely. 

“It is time to leave,” she says instead and turns to Lupa and Nidia who have gone completely quiet, “My daughter needs escorting to the carriage. We cannot keep my husband waiting so close to the time of the ceremony.”

You swallow thickly but do not protest, a heavy feeling in your stomach as you are led out of your home, taking in the details of the surroundings that you grew up in for what feels like the last time.

—

Upon arrival at Marcus' estate, you are greeted by who you assume will be your new maid. Ismene is her name, a woman not much older than yourself but with rougher hands, the kind that have known hard labor. She wears a plain tunic and her hair tied back in a braid, curtsying as you step out of the carriage. 

You hear your mother tell Lupa and Nidia to stay back in case it’ll insult Ismene that you have brought maids from your home but Ismene just smiles, her eyes flicking up at you as she bows to catch a glimpse of who she will be serving from now on. 

“My lady,” she greets after stretching to her full height again, a twinkle in her gaze and a gut feeling telling you that she has no ill will towards you, “Everything is ready for you. The General has requested that you go to the gardens immediately where the ceremony will take place shortly.” 

She leads you and your mother through the mansion that is as beautiful as you remember it from yesterday. Except this time, seemingly overnight, the home has been decorated to be fit for festivities later. Your mother walks beside you, her expression calm, but you know her enough by now to sense the tension beneath the surface. She glances around the estate with careful eyes, not having been here before since your father refused it, and is perhaps judging the wealth and power of the man you are about to marry. Maybe, she may even be worrying for you.

You must screen your face from the sun in the gardens, but you still cannot help but notice the red roses and the ivy snaking their way around the columns that surround the spot chosen for the ceremony. Their colors are striking and beautiful against the white marble, eliciting a gasp of awe from your mother. What you also cannot help but notice is the return of the flutter of excitement that stirs in your belly, one that feels out of place among your adult worries. Everything is even more gorgeous than you had imagined in your childhood daydreams. 

“It’s beautiful, truly. The Gods have indeed favored us,” your mother praises in a whisper just as the three of you come to a halt. Ismene has stopped in her tracks just out of sight from the guests who are here to witness the marriage, and she is deliberately quiet to give you and your mother this last brief moment of privacy before everything changes. 

Your mother reaches out to gently touch your arm. In response, you turn to her and are met with her warm and reassuring smile. She cups your face and kisses your forehead. 

“Remember that father and I raised you to be strong,” she tells you with tears welling up in her eyes. You can feel your heart beating harshly against your chest as you recognize both fear and excitement on her face, and you suppose that there’s grief in her following this; her last child leaving home will be the end of her being needed. 

“Te amo in aeternum, Mamma (I love you forever, Mom),” you only just manage to say as your throat feels tight and you can hear footsteps approaching. 

You know it is your father by the commanding pace of the steps, the way the feet strike the earth with determination. He rounds the corner with a small smile on his lips as he sees you. 

“My beautiful daughter,” he greets you and immediately holds his arm out for you to take. There’s urgency in his voice even if it is tender at the sight of you, “It is time.”

“Are you ready?” Your mother interrupts, earning a glance from her husband. His presence somehow looms larger after that question, as if he wants to scoff at the thought that you could ever say no. He shakes his arm with an impatient smile when you still have not taken his arm. Clearly, this is not a moment for lingering but a moment for you to fulfill your duty.

You swallow hard and then you turn to your father. With a nod, you place your arm through his, “I’m ready.”

“Then let us not keep the General waiting,” he smiles.

The wedding ceremony is swift and takes place underneath the blazing sun of Rome. Marcus Acacius stands at the altar, his tall and broad figure exuding strength and importance. You feel drawn to the way he looks as he watches you walk down the pathway between the guests, stoic and calm in an attire that matches yours. You feel reassured by him because of this strength, that if everything fails, he will catch you.

When you stop in front of him and your father nods in a way that feels transactional, you swear that you can see his eyes soften. The officiant drones on but you don’t hear a word, the thoughts of last night when you were alone in your bed flooding your mind and causing your heartbeat to drown out noise around you. You can still feel the warmth of your own touch between your legs and it’s so consuming of your attention that you suddenly hear someone clearing their throat. 

“We will now perform the joining of hands, dear,” the officiant repeats and you can see that Marcus is already holding out his palm for you to place your own in. Your face is hot, your cheeks prickling with embarrassment but you recover by not letting it faze you. Marcus smiles ever so gently when your hand takes his and a leather band is wrapped around them. You say your promise to him like you have practiced so many times in the mirror back in your room.

Where he is your Gaius, you will be Gaia. Mother nature. The first goddess. The one who made sense of chaos. 

“Ubi tu Gaius, ego Gaia.”

–

In the early evening, the festivities begin with a banquet that makes the ones your father has hosted in the past pale in comparison. There’s people and food and people eating the food everywhere. Goblets get continuously filled by servants and bread with oil, butter, and cheese gets restocked as soon as it might look like serving platters are emptying out. However, it is not envy that you see on your parents’ faces as they take in the long table that abounds in the season’s most beautiful flowers laid out in rich displays of colors, or the most expensive foods that are replenished before anyone can take notice of their shortages, but rather pride in your mother’s eyes and some sort of distasteful greed in your father’s.

It makes you think of Cassius again, the idea of his stomach growling as he makes his way home from laboring in the fields surrounding your village. He would hate this, you think to yourself, the sight of the uppermost elite of society stuffing their faces but not for nourishment.

You look down at your hands when you start to feel bad for thinking of another man while sitting right next to your new husband. Yet Marcus doesn’t seem to notice the way your shoulders slump. He smiles warmly at each congratulations that he receives while you sit at the end of the same long table and you’re surprised to see that it comes off as genuine each time. He graciously lifts his goblet of wine as thanks, nodding to the faces of men his own age who approach with offerings and gifts. You’ve seen them steal glances at you when they think others haven’t noticed. 

You wonder if Marcus has, if he feels triumphant or enraged by the lingering appreciative stares that you receive right before they go back to their wine. 

It is to be expected with how beautiful your mother has made you for this day, you say to yourself in your new state as an object of desire, but still, you are without much appetite from being stared at. It makes you think of your wedding night and the duty that lies within it. As a comfort, you reach for your goblet of wine frequently throughout the evening and completely ignore the delicious smell of roasted meats and the sight of shiny green grapes and berries that you have on your plate. Right now, they make you feel sick. 

Sensing your discomfort, Marcus holds his hand up to stop an approaching guest and turns his attention to you. His gaze follows the movement of your hand as you lift the goblet to your slightly-stained lips once more. Gently, he reaches out and covers your hand with his, taking the cup away from you.

“No more wine. I don’t want you to feel unwell on our night together,” he says simply and firmly but there’s affection in his command, a concern for your wellbeing. It’s the first time that you see a glimpse of the man you met yesterday. He makes you fold quickly, nod with embarrassment as you in return stare sheepishly at him while he sets down the goblet out of your reach. 

“Of course, my legatus,” you hurry to say, remembering how your mother had urged you to show respect by referring to his rank. You offer him a hesitant smile, “You’re right.”

“I know this is not easy for a maiden as young as you, and I must admit that it is all very overwhelming even for me,” he gives you a smile in return, allowing himself to show brief vulnerability to ease your mind, “But there’s no need to dull your senses, Carrissima.”

“It was not my intention to make you feel like I was unappreciative—“

“I did not think you were,” he interrupts before you can tear yourself down in an effort to humble yourself. He places a hand on yours underneath the table, “Are you pleased with the celebration? I never notice if others are enjoying the festivities. I admit I seek solitude more often than company in these situations.”

“It is beautiful, I’ve never seen anything like it,” you reply with a nod and realize that you find the conversation less terrifying now. You blame your ease on the amount of wine you have already consumed, “If you want reassurance, a woman can always tell if people are enjoying themselves.”

“And what is your verdict?” Marcus brushes his thumb over the back of your hand. You hide the shiver that goes up your spine, breathe deeply to steady your heart after it has skipped at least a few beats. He must know what his touch does to you after feeling it yesterday.

A burst of laughter from a table nearby catches both of your attention. A group of guests are engaged in lighthearted discussions, chatting cheerfully with each other and getting up when the musicians strike up a song made for dancing. 

You observe them for a moment before turning back to Marcus again, but before you can answer, a man approaches your table with what you assume is more congratulations. You make a mental note to be more present in this, to show your husband and his guests that you are in favor of the union. However, the man leans in close to Marcus, whispering something in his ear. 

You notice a subtle shift in Marcus’s demeanor; the previous warmth in his eyes momentarily replaces itself with a focused seriousness. He nods at the messenger, who quickly slips away into the crowd before you can even register what he looks like.

“Is everything all right?” You ask with curiosity and concern. 

“Yes, nothing to worry about. Just a small matter that needed my attention. I apologize for the interruption,” he assures you but hardly satisfies your curiosity. The seriousness vanishes completely in favor of softness as soon as he looks at you again, “Forgive me for forgetting but I must compliment the jasmine flowers in your wedding crown. They suit my bride perfectly.”

The sudden change in his tone makes your heart flutter, and you realize how intentional his words are, as if to draw you back into the moment with him. You reach up to feel the soft petals of the flowers with your fingertips. You smile genuinely at him, shy from the compliment, “It was already weaved this morning but I remembered you mentioning that jasmine is your favorite.”

He raises an eyebrow, “You remembered our conversation.”

“I wanted to show that I was attentive,” you reply, feeling a connection that wasn’t there just a moment before.

“You’ve certainly succeeded,” he replies with a pleased grin at being surprised by you.

The sunset has crept up on you while you have been in conversation with Marcus for a while, the plate in front of you suddenly having been emptied by you without much thought. You only register the darkness of the night when guests have started to get up from their seats to say goodbye and go home, and panic starts to rise in your throat when the crowd thins out enough for Marcus to send the rest home. 

You've known this night would come, and yet as you get up from your seat, standing right in the middle of all the many tables, it feels like it is brand new information that comes hurtling towards you and frightens you even further. 

With a lump in your throat, you watch the last few faces take their leave, observing how Marcus says goodbye to what you assume are the most important guests. 

When everything is quiet except for the servants’ footsteps, your parents approach you. Your mother is the first to talk, her eyes glistening with pride. 

“My dear, it’s been a wonderful celebration,” she says, gently squeezing you in an embrace. “We’re so happy for you.”

“Thank you, Mother. I’m so grateful you were here to share it with me,” you reply, accepting her embrace warmly and almost desperately due to your anxiety. You can feel her tense up when she realizes that you are hugging her to soothe yourself but she doesn’t say anything. 

Your father stands by quietly. He only nods approvingly when Marcus joins the three of you, “A splendid event. We’re confident our daughter is in good hands.”

Marcus bows his head respectfully, “You have my word that she is.”

Your father turns to you, his expression of importance softening just a bit, “Remember what we’ve taught you, my daughter. Honor and family are paramount.”

“I understand, Father,” you assure him, avoiding his eyes. The surprisingly cool interaction between father and daughter catches Marcus’ attention, and the step he takes closer to you is almost unnoticeable. You feel his arm accidentally brushing yours but you swear that there’s a sort of protectiveness in the featherlight touch even if it is unintentional. It makes exchanging farewells easier.

“Perhaps we should retire as well,” he suggests when your parents are out of sight, “Goddess Nox has already spread her veil across the sky for a while.”

"Yes, I suppose it is time,” you glance up at the stars above, feeling the cool night air against your skin. You wish he would ground you like before.

The both of you make your way to your shared chambers. The short walk feels longer than it should, the weight of the moment pressing down on you with each step. You glance at your husband as he walks beside you, his calm and steady demeanor sharply in contrast with the growing nervousness inside you. The walls of the corridor are lined with flickering torches, and they seem to stretch on endlessly. Though nothing lasts forever and eventually you come to a halt, the door in front of you leading you to your wedding night.

This is it.

.

.

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

[nellienews]

Announcement

I am no longer doing the voice of Cirinel myself! After a lot of takes and workshopping, I've concluded that I just don't have the voice I envision her having as a full-fledged character. Casting her properly is very important to me, and I want to do her concept justice.

That being said:

Casting Call for Cirinel is now open! CLOSED! We found our voice! Thank you to everyone who submitted!

If you've never heard of her before, welcome! Cirinel is a custom-voiced follower I'm making for Skyrim SE. She's a high elf from the Isle of Balfiera, located in High Rock, and she's recently escaped Thalmor imprisonment and torture.

Reference pictures:

Voices I'm looking for:

Feminine American or British accents

A semi-sophisticated voice (she's nobility in her homeland, but very far removed from Summerset aristocracy)

A lot of pep and energy

The ability to convey grief

A smooth voice with some allure for when she's speaking normally

Other requirements:

Good microphone quality with no background interruptions (I can handle white noise reduction and compression myself, but please no loud background noises, popping, or peaking)

A discord or an email to contact you through

Commitment; this is a long project and she's the main character, so I need someone that can stick with her long-term as I get all the writing, coding, and debugging done

Note 1: This role is only open to people 18 or older. No exceptions, sorry!

Note 2: This is unpaid work, as this is a passion project I'm doing in my free time.

If you're interested and would like more details, feel free to shoot me a message, or click the link above to see the whole project. I also have a planned roadmap of her progress here.

[ethicaltreatmentofcowplants]

prev | next

Likewise an iconic character. Let me tell you that the man was smooth. Even at the start when everyone had no CHARISMA skill due to my rules, he still managed enough rizz to catch Lilac's attention in an extremely chaotic household (linked are only a few of their greatest hits), and to emerge a surprising contender.

Hell, there were times when even this demisexual and dead inside Watcher was fanning herself and going "...Sir" 🤭

During the second round he rocked a cowboy get-up, weathered insults from guest star Leonardo Harper with aplomb and class, and solidified his strong position by finishing in second. After his third round date, he started this round in fourth place and thus with a really good shot of making it to the final three.

While on paper I think that he and Lilac had more summertime romance/"hot fling to get her back on her feet and believing in herself again after a bad breakup" vibes, it was potentially the method acting bug that did the most damage. The CLAIM TO BE CRIMINAL MASTERMIND interactions were seriously something else. And while the other pixels reacted negatively, he never actually lost relationship points due to it - although Delphine did develop a FESTERING GRUDGE.

However, if he was doing that and LYING ABOUT CRIMINAL CAREER with what felt like every other sentence (I swear that I am not exaggerating), he obviously had less opportunities to make his case to Lilac. I really did try, @igglemouse. I swear to the Old Watchers and the New 😅. I removed MISCHIEF as a liked activity. I added DECEPTION to his disliked conversational topics. I cheated down his MISCHIEF skill but the man was clearly going for that future role of his - and we have to respect the dedication (or something).

Of course, were this regular gameplay and he were my pixel, I would have just cancelled all those interactions and queued up a bunch of conversational topics not involving him proclaiming himself to be Michael Corleone. But before I started this challenge, I promised myself that I would not interfere with the game and dictate either the contestants or Lilac too much, otherwise it would be me choosing the winner and not her/the pixels themselves etc.

And so we fare the man, the myth, the legend (and the 'stache) well. But not before Lilac gets her revenge on all those MISCHIEF interactions.

So long, pardner.

@igglemouse, thank you so much for sending me such an unique concept of a character - and someone who was just so much fun (but perhaps hinting at some depth at the same time?). I swear that my recaps for his household days pretty much wrote themselves - there was never a dull moment with him about. Lilac and I both look forward to his future ventures, and wish him all our best.

For Mister's build, I kicked out Vanessa Jeong (listen, it's not my fault that Del Sol Valley has hardly any lots with which to work) and revamped what was clearly a build before EA started outsourcing them to creators. What's left is this bachelor pad.

Not really worthy of a large picture because the outside isn't very impressive. But the inside (or the back deck) is where the party happens.

I figure that at one point in its life, this was a modest family home before whoever's renting it to Mister (or even the man himself) knocked out the master bedroom and converted it to a home cinema, courtesy of that Don Lothario kit.

Also what was likely the second bedroom is now an ensuite and a gym. Even if Mister hadn't picked up the ACTIVE trait while in my save, you gotta maintain the six (or even eight?) pack.

But the kitchen is likely the original and is probably my favourite that I've built in a while.

since i knew that @igglemouse was incorporating mister into another save (and that she would be spoiled for the build gifts through jerrod's and forest's posts), i've already sent this to her. but i figured that i may as well show it off a little 😊

[brothermoth]

Hyperfixating on decades old video games like the fool I am

I played dragon age 3 when I was like 14 and I decided to play it again out of spite because I thought Veilguard got so much unfair and frankly nonsense criticism

They're very different but both good games, however I think the dialogue in Inquisition is a bit awkward. Companion banter is one of the saving graces but there's very little interaction between all of the characters. I think Veilguard did a much better job of making the companions feel as if they were befriending each other too. They chat, they hang out in each other's rooms, and you can clearly pick out the smaller friendships within the group.

I much prefer the romance arcs in Veilguard too, though I like the acknowledgement of dynamics and potential issues in Inquisition (ie. mage Inquisitor asking Cullen if he's even comfortable being with a mage). The romances in Inquisition are very rushed, which sucks because that's one of the main draws to the games. I like that Veilguard makes you work for it, and it's much easier to see Rook have actual chemistry with the characters. Part of this is the nature of the characters' role in the story which I totally understand, as Rook is more of a peer rather than a superior to the others, where the Inquisitor is elevated to basically deity status. It works with the story to make the character feel so isolated! But, I think the romances needed some more meat to them if that makes sense.

World-wise I love the more open world in Inquisition, with the dragon fights and the ability to accidentally wander into some horrible mess that has you going fuck fuck fuck and spamming buttons. I'm a slut for collections and spent probably half my time gathering rocks. Veilguard has a much more limited map and the boss fights are confined to missions rather than randomly placed.

I have a love hate relationship with the gear system in Inquisition, because while I love being able to play dolls and dress up the characters it can get very overwhelming having so much gear to manage. I absolutely love being able to customize the colors and armor appearances which I thought was lacking in Veilguard, though I did like most of the armor we got. If it was a bit more customizable I would've been in heaven. Character creation is definitely the best development between the games and it drives me insane that you can't change body type in Inquisition. Not even like ...a few options. You get pencil Lavellan, brick shithouse Cadash and Adaar, and just average build for Travelyan. I love the qunari in Veilguard but they should've had more hairstyles available. Lack of hairstyles in Inquisition is so bad. They should've added more in some random update like 9 years ago. Also really liked being able to equip an appearance and armor separate in Veilguard. Nothing pisses me off more than getting really good armor that looks like shit, where low stat armor is awesome. This is a callout of Solas in particular why are his fits ASS.

I felt spoiled in Veilguard not having to worry about my companions getting themselves killed because it drove me absolutely insane. They were, however, much less useful in fights. My Inquisition strategy is to turn Blackwall into a tank and just send his ass in while the rest of us attack from a distance. Veilguard made me do the work myself, which was fine because I love the combat in that game. It's smooth and it looks cool and I like the different weapons, but I do wish you could have a single sword as a rogue instead of two. It's a bit clunky with the bow also. The mage staff combat was also meh, I like the way it looks but it's just far more difficult than orb and dagger. I do like orb and dagger though, it's a creative change from staff only combat in other games.

The characters in both games are so so good. I think the companions are always the saving grace of dragon age because there's no constraints regarding player customization. I think the custom characters can hold back storytelling, which is probably why Hawke remains so popular. They're a more set character, with a specific background and family no matter what. The people that complain about Taash or Sera just hate autistic people I think. Taash was immature because they're like 22 surrounded by people 10+ years older. They have one of the best storylines in my opinion, and I think their friendship with Lucanis is so fucking funny. 30-something tired workaholic being besties with a much younger coworker is my favorite dynamic.

The lore connects as well as it does between all the other games. In fact, I found myself going "oh! Oh!" While I was replaying Inquisition because of little details that ended up being important! Cassandra commenting on whether or not archdemons are pets to something more powerful!! The buildup between games to the gods being main villains is so juicy and wonderful. I thought the gods made much better villains than Corypheus. Elgar'nan having his cat fight with Solas really highlights what I think is a huge theme; little people suffering for the egos of the powerful. Also he laughs just like Bo Burnham in welcome to the internet and I cackle every time.

I will agree somewhat with the criticism of Veilguard's sanitization of a lot of issues brought up in other games. I think they did implement a lot of themes! I do however understand why they didn't hone in on the darker elements. It's a different game for a different time. Everything sucks so fucking bad right now and I really appreciate the ideas of unity and hope that Veilguard is full of. I think doom and gloom has its place, and I rather enjoy a darker topic, but I think it was purposeful to hone in on a message of hope. It's just what was right for the climate nowadays. I also really appreciate the unapologetic support of queer people in Veilguard, you have to give it credit for that at least.

Anyways they're fun games with interesting lore and none of this matters that much. I had fun playing veilguard and I had fun playing Inquisition. Play Veilguard with an open mind, it really doesn't deserve the vitriol it gets.

[luminouslywriting]

Hi, I'm here to make a request, first of all I AM OBSESSED WITH RONALD SPEIRS!!, so I was wondering if you could make some headcanons about what it would be like to marry him, basically what the wedding day would be like and everything it would include, (please Let it be a big wedding...I think I have a problem with exorbitant celebrations 😭😭)

You could also add about what role each Easy boy would take at the wedding and everything. Also that the reader there was part of the company

^^Gif not mine^^

A/N: Love, this is a wonderful request and I'm so sorry that it's taken so long for me to get to it. I'm sick so I'm taking my sick day to respond to a few of my requests haha!

Cut for length, paragraph form, more below the cut, some light spice included:

-Ronald Speirs and a wedding is a surprising match made in heaven and you can't convince me otherwise. He's happy to go to a courthouse and elope if that's what you want. But if you want the whole white wedding in full tradition? He's also happy to oblige such a request. I think that in general, he's the type to let you plan to your heart's content, but if you want him to be involved, he will in fact, have an opinion about the color of napkins and the amount of flowers haha.

-If you're stressed out in the days leading up to the wedding, rest assured that this man is a GREAT stress reliever. He knows exactly how to get your mind off of things—and if those wicked ways happen to include his fingers or his mouth, then he's all too happy about it anyway.

-Knowing the fact that you want the full traditional wedding means that he is going to need some groomsmen and there's no way that he wouldn't invite the men of Easy Company to the wedding

-That being said, the invitations were out well in advance and while everyone was pleasantly surprised to be invited to said wedding, they're also very jazzed about the entire thing

-Lipton is obviously his best man

-Everyone else had to be fought over in a wild game of rock paper scissors to decide who ends up on what side of the wedding party

-Other groomsmen for him include Dick Winters, Babe Heffron, Perconte, Martin, Donald Malarkey, David Webster, and Joe Toye.

-Your side of the wedding party got Lewis Nixon, Bull Randleman, Joe Liebgott, Buck Compton, Eugene Roe, Floyd Talbert, Shifty, and Bill Guarnere.

-Put Nixon in charge of the bar for the reception, I beg of you

-Winters had a lot of fun getting to plan so much and being involved in everything

-The others were a little chaotic, to say the least

-The rings were held onto by Lipton

-Anywho, the wedding goes off without a single hitch (mostly because poor Dick Winters and Carwood Lipton are working overtime behind the scenes to ensure that it's the best and most smooth operation to date)

-The vows definitely make a few people shed tears (and yes, Speirs is all too pleased by that)

-The reception would last for hours and hours, well into the night

-And when the two of you slip away while everyone is drinking so you can leave to the honeymoon and the only two people you get to say goodbye to are Winters and Lipton, neither one of you truly mind haha

-10/10 would have these men assemble a wedding

[greennoobartist]

Hey! You! I’m sleep deprived as balls and am currently running off stress and prayers and I need something to distract me! Gimme headcanons of yours about all members of the chain!

…please?

You got it! Lemme just turn on this whatever type of music i listen to and roll up my sleeves for this! Ill try to give at least two for each one of them! (I literally have no idea what is this type of music listen to? Rock? Punk? Cyperbunk? Idk)

Time:

He loves to secretly spend time with Epona bcuz it reminds him of the good old days on the farm and also Malon. So he sometimes will secretly or just randomly spend a bit of time with Twilight's Epona. Ofc Twi doesn't mind bcuz he knows this. Time sometimes even ends up going for a ride but those almost never ended up well

He does keep the Ocarina on his belt, but he hates getting reminded of it. It reminds him of all the timeline stuff he went through so even looking at it makes him mad. He doesn't take it out unless he really has to.

Twilight:

He gives constant glances to his shadow, hopelessly thinking he'll get a slight wave or smth from Midna, but he knows he won't. Especially at sunset, hoo boy.

He secretly has a stick or anything pretty solid to keep his canines sharp. To make it less weird he bites on that stick when he's Wolfie but sometimes very secretly he can bite on it a bit when he has a weird need to. Ofc he avoids doing that. Sometimes it slips in his sleep and it can be seen that he's making bite-like movement with his mouth while sleeping (it looks pretty silly cuz it looks like he's biting air lol)

Warriors:

How does he have such clean and smooth hair? He has hair products in his inventory! Yup :P He has hair products he keeps in his inventory and uses it during the journey when his hair gets dirty or messy (it's a must to use them in the morning! A must!)

From the War of Eras (i didn't play his game yet so sorry if this doesn't make sense) he just can't understand how are Wind and Time who they are in LU. Like how is Time now married and so old and Wind just pretty much taller than he was and also older. It's actually not that much surprising for him that Wind got older but Time is the most surprising for him. Wars just can't understand how on earth did a kid he know got so much older that he's now even older than him and even married. Sometimes he can't believe it so much that he doesn't believe that the Hero of Time he knew and LU Time are the same person. This theory sits the best with him, but he knows it might not be necessarily true.

Sky:

He sometimes tries to write letters to his Zelda and give them to a random bird, but so far no bird delivered it correctly and it always ended up in a bush or somewhere.

He likes to envelope himself in the cloak Zelda made for him when he's upset and needs comfort, or sometimes just while sleeping. He also loves to use it to comfort others since others also enjoy the softness of it. Legend is the only one who refuses to be comforted by it (who knows why he just be grumpy lol)

Wild:

He once found a Silent Princess flower while on a walk with Twi, and just like you would've predicted, it made him really sad. He first got several flashbacks of memories until it really made him sad and nostalgic that he let out a few tears. Since Twi was there he first waited for his flashbacks to pass before comforting him. Since Wild trusts him enough he told him a bit about it and how Silent Princesses were the favorite flower of his Zelda and all that.

He's trying to teach Rulie how to cook, but the kid is just a magnet for culinary failure. No matter what recipe he tries Rulie just manages to fail. Rulie isn't the only one he's teaching. He gave some culinary lessons to Wind too and surprisingly Four too (Red was the one mostly curious in cooking) So Wold kinda works as the culinary teacher to the Chain since he's the best cook.

Bonus bcuz I know he's your fave :) : Since he doesn't know how to play any instruments, he loves to listen to the rest of the Chain play songs from their adventures. He did try to play an Ocarina but he accepted the fact that he's just not a person for playing instruments. Even though he lost his memory, he does remember some ballads and Champions' themes from his time, so he sometimes tries to hum the tune for one of the Chain members to play it. Ofc humming it and playing it isn't the same, but sometimes they were able to get it right.

Legend:

He says he's kind of an insomniac, but he actually has somniphobia (phobia of falling asleep) I don't think i have to explain that part. But when he does accidentally fall asleep, he wakes up pretty well in the morning and hates the fact when he realizes he fell asleep. To add a bit of angst, he once had a nightmare in which he saw Marin again and it made him so happy, but it was a nightmare... In which... *drumroll*... He "killed" Marin again. He woke up in the middle of the night with that nightmare in tears, his face was actually completely wet. Luckily, Rulie was the one who was on the nighttime watch then so Leg did have a bit of relief with that. He didn't want to talk about it and Rulie completely understood, so he just offered some comfort and stayed on the watch together that night.

He sometimes twirls the pink strand of his hair around his finger. He does it sometimes when he ponders or just when he's bored. Others (cough Wars cough) like to tease him that that's a girl's thing but Leg just sighs dramatically and ignores. He says it helps him think better and so far it came out quite true.

Hyrule:

When Leg had pink hair, he was curious as heck. He kept asking questions but Leg just brushed him off. When he realized that Leg won't reveal anything, he decided to have a bit fun with it like everyone else. Maybe surprising maybe not but he also loved to tease him by calling him a pink head. Aware that he's Leg's bestie, he knew that he'll be the only one who wont get yelled at and cussed at form Legend. So he had his good time.

He has fairy wings but he hides them well. They're folded under his croptop. In that one update he did take his tunic off but not his croptop to not reveal the wings. If he takes of the croptop the wings will unfold back to full size which he doesn't want to happen.

Four:

He can hear the colors in his head that sometimes it gives him migraines and sometimes doesn't even let him sleep. It sometimes pisses him off sm that he just snaps and splits. Speaking of those migraines, when he doesn't sleep, he stays awake and talks with the colors. It's a pretty neat way of stress relief. Vio sometimes asks him to check on Shadow for him but so far he didn't get any response. His shadow is just stoic like a regular one. (This is bcuz im not sure if Shadow is canon to LU or not, i do have a slightly different one for the ones that believe Shadow is in LU)

Four's eye color changes depending on which color is having the most impact. His usual eye color is brown but it changes quite a lot. When he's frustrated or in a serious fight: Blue. When he's determined and planning, acting like a leader: Green. When he's showing his sensitive side and being caring for others: Red. When he's lost in thought or having a deep discussion: Violet. It's not rare to be more than one color. And sometimes even all four colors can be present, that's a mixture of emotions :D

Wind:

Since he does have the Wind Waker, he LOVES to prank the rest of the Chain. Mostly pulling Wars scarf over his face or pulling Leg's hat off. It's hilarious to him bcuz most of the time he gets away with it. Time found out about this and once they pulled out a grand prank together with the Song of Storms and the Wind Waker. It almost resulted into a tornado but Wind doesn't regret it at all. His best and favorite prank so far.

He sometimes gets reninded of the Outset Island (is that the name of his home island? The one he grew up on? ) When he gets reninded of it he also gets reninded of Aryll and his grandma. Malon's hospitality and motherly nature also reminded him of his grandma which later made hin quite sad. The chain was able to offer comfort and Malon felt a bit guilty for bringing him such memories, but ofc since he's also a hero he said that it's not her fault and that he doesn't mind.

I think that's it :D Sorry if any of these have typos i don't feel like rereading all this lol XD Some of these might be canon im not sure and some might be similar to someone else's idk. Also some of these were literally cooked and just randomly appered in my mind thanks to your ask so thx for that ^^ i love making hcs so i hope this distracts you❣

Tysm for asking i love to yap about these nine gremlins <3

[chickenkurage]

(TAWW!Week) DAY 4: (not) ASKING FOR HELP

Creator Stickman Alan AU

Summary: After being saved from Halo and having his memories wiped (it didn’t work of course… of course, 06 would never let him rest). Alan finds himself… broken. He refuses to accept help.

Tag/s: Hurt no Comfort, Injury/Burns, Family Dynamics

Alan never liked asking for help, he’s always able to do what was needed. Whether it’s a chore or some other stuff. He would almost always never ask for help, that’s just– basically against his nature. 

He is an able bodied person, he can handle being tired. He can handle being out of breath to do something his body is not quite used to.

He can handle–

“Alan?” Alan flinched, his head bumping the roof of the kitchen cabinet, causing Second, who called him to let out an ‘ooh’ as Alan rubbed the back of his head, turning towards the orange hollowhead who held on a wince.

“Sec” Alan mumbled, his other hand holding an orange juice he had been trying to sneak out from the fridge. “Alan… aren’t you supposed to be sleeping?” Second asked, an amused smile in his face as he tilted his head.

There they go again, treating me like a child. Alan thought, dismayed, his hand tightening on the bottle in his hands. It took him a lot of self control to not burn the whole bottle in his hand.

He’s been doing that– trying his best not to get angry. Everyone has been treating him like some kind of… glass. Walking around on eggshells around him.

"I am, I just need something to drink," Alan replied, twisting the cap off the bottle and taking a sip, secretly wishing it were alcohol instead. Well, beggars can't be choosers, Alan thought dismally as he heard Second clear his throat.

"Do you... Do you want to talk?" Second asked, rubbing his hands together nervously, briefly rising on his tiptoes before settling back down as Alan wiped his mouth.

Talk? What is there to discuss with an amnesiac man? Alan pondered humorously, feeling a strong urge to laugh. Instead, he let out a snort. Second raised a brow, which then smoothed out as Alan shook his head, waving a hand dismissively.

“There’s nothing to talk about, just… getting some drink” Alan gestured at the refrigerator as Second forced a smile, nodding. “Ah..well–that’s good” Second mumbled, disappointment bleeding out of his tone as he rubbed the back of his neck.

Alan only hummed, throwing the empty bottle on the bin before dusting his hands.

. . . . 

Alan is by no means a patient person, he lacks every corner of patience. That also means, he is much more prone to being… angry. Not to other people, most to himself.

There are a lot of times he gets very very annoyed at how he was treated, and in the process he decides to break a whole damn mountain in the forest in his anger.

“Just because i’m acting like i’ve forgotten everything DOES NOT mean i get to be treated like i’m–i’m fucking STUPID!” Alan shouts, kicking a whole rock down the mountain, fuming.

Smoke comes out from his mouth as he lets out another shout, letting out a growl as he burns a tree, and another one. And another one as well. He’s sure if Second saw him doing this, he would be gracefully horrified.

Alan, the amnesiac, the poor guy, the one that was forced to fight–in that DAMNED ARENA. The one that lost his OWN dignity. His eye sight being stripped away, HIS hearing being taken away.

EVERYTHING was taken away.

“Calm down calm down” Alan mumbled to himself, steaming smoke coming from his mouth as he continued to pant, huff and growl (like a damn dog). His fist clenching and unclenching in a pattern to control his anger, to let it simmer. TO forget.

Treated like a delicate glass, how does it feel? Alan Becker

“Shut up, shut up” Alan growled, pressing a finger to the side of his head, ignoring the pounding headache the voice is giving him. Ignoring the anger that is slowly coming back, He ignores the way his hands are bursting with fire, the heat making him sweat.

He ignores how his hands–his fingers are digging to his scalp as he continues to pull and tug his hair.

“Shut up, Shut up–LEAVE ME ALONE!” Alan yells, blindly throwing a fireball, more whispers and laughs he hears. Yet when he opens his eyes he sees none (always no one, who is it, whose voice is it, he’s going craz.

He could feel the touch in his skin, how–how he held his chin, forced him to kneel–used a damn chair. His weight on his back.

Alan pants, his chest heaving, his eyes watering as smoke hits his face, his hands still burning. He could see how his fingertips are starting to blacken. The smell of burnt flesh, the pain–the mind numbing pain he can feel starting from the tips of his fingers up to his shoulders.

He knows he should stop his fire, extinguish it. Because he’s burning his skin, he’s burning everything, the grass underneath his fingers is slowly turning to ash.

Yet all he do was cry, tears falling down, his mouth letting out such an animalistic wail as he watch his hands burn, he could see droplets of tears falling down his arm, before sizzling when it meets the fire.

Alan squeezes his eyes shut, his head pounding as more laughter are heard. He could hear that fucking laugh, the giggle, the taunts. He could feel phantom hands touching his hair, petting him as if he’s some kind of damn dog.

Stop it, fucking stop it. Alan thought, more sobs coming out of his mouth. It’s embarrassing how it took him a long time to understand that those wails was coming from him.

He’s somehow thankful he was in the forest, no one to hear him but the trees around him, and maybe the birds that was chirping above his head.

Alan can only cry, both from pain and both from being cursed to remember everything.

. . . .

“Alan?” Victim whispered, seeing the white hollowhead raise his head, he was laying on his arms, his hands tucked under his chest. “Hey” Alan mumbled, forcing a smile as Victim entered the room, his hand on the door and a small smile in his face.

Alan could see how rumpled Victim’s suit was, how his hair is a little messy. Perhaps he came from the search, where him, Chosen and Dark were searching for Halo. Yet, none of them could find him.

Alan eyes the stain on Victim’s shirt before his eyes travel up to Victim’s face. “Would you like to talk?” Victim asked, taking a seat beside Alan who moved a bit to give space. 

“About?” Alan asked, lowering his head again on his arms. He knows he should act lively, excited, happy. Like how he was before, how he was so so naive, so eager to please.

“What have you been doing? I know me, Chosen and Dark have been so busy with… our mission” Victim paused, his selection of words almost made Alan scoff. 

Mission? Mission to find the person who had hurt me? What about you Victim? Will you also kill yourself, knowing that you had hurt–

Alan shuts his mind briefly, shut up shut up shut up…

Victim does not deserve that, it was valid. His anger was valid, the hurt he gave Alan was valid. It was all valid. Alan should just swallow the bitter pill, that the same person he is talking to is the same person who had also forced him to crawl like a dog, the one that had forced him to throw his dignity away.

He may be the same as Halo, but Alan—Alan loves him… he…loves him, his own creation, his own child, his own hand that had the pen, that made the stroke. It was never lovingly, but Alan made him. Then threw him away.

Alan’s pain and suffering are not the same level as Victim’s, he was overreacting. He must be, Victim deserves kindness, after experiencing so much from Alan’s hand.

And Alan? Alan deserves pain, hurt, suffering… death

“Alan?” Victim’s voice called, forcing Alan out from his mind. A soft–gentle hand on his shoulder as Alan raises his eyes up at Victim’s. “Hey” Alan replied, smiling, it was not forced anymore… maybe.

“You okay?” Victim asked, rubbing his hands over Alan’s shoulder, such a calming gesture made Alan relax, his once tense posture gone, he’s almost melting under Victim’s hand that he forgot he had to respond to Victim’s question.

“Me? Everyday” Alan whispers, a real smile appearing in his face as Victim mimicked the gesture, his hand leaving Alan’s shoulder.

Alan suppressed the urge to chase the touch, to tell Victim to pat him again, to rub his back, to hug him. He wanted all of those–HE wanted more. But Alan knows–dogs don’t get to pick which bone they want.

They only should take what was given to them.

[cetaceans-pls]

Brother I'll File Your Complaint Any Time

for @setsailslash i hope you had a really good day man you're always making mine better!!!!!!! i think you'll be somewhat delighted to know i wrote this over whatsapp 😌😌😌

JayBru, Inappropriate Behaviour in the Workplace, a very horny T-rating just for you kuro!! please enjoy!!

✒️👔🖋️

“Mr. Wayne, you have a meeting with HR coming up.”

Bruce looks up from his work, almost scowling. “Right now?” He’s only ever in the office before noon two days a week, with the tacit understanding that anything short of a national emergency should necessitate a meeting before lunch. It’s ten AM. There’s a reason he’s got lawyers working to lobby for 30-hour work weeks, god.

“In a half hour, Mr. Wayne. I’m reminding you now, so you have a little time. Here’s some coffee, and a cheese steak.”

Bruce smiles. “Janice, I may well kiss you fully on the mouth.”

Janice smiles right back. “This might be why HR wants to meet, sir. And as you well know, I'm happily married.”

Bruce accepts his treats, and gives her a god-honouring onceover. "And as you well know, I would also kiss Bryan fully on the mouth.”

He gets whapped on the arm and a giggle for it, and Janice leaves with a swish of long hair and the clack of heels. Bruce watches her go, and then looks down at his sumptuous meal.

“Time for a good time,” he murmurs quietly to himself, still smiling.

-

At exactly thirteen minutes past when they were supposed to meet, Bruce knocks on the door to the Head of HR, not waiting for a response before going inside. “You better have a damn good reason for ordering your boss to your office, Tedd,” he snarls, making sure he’s fully audible to the ten people working and milling closest by the office, before barging in and slamming the door shut.

Jason looks up with a smile that’s all all teeth. “And you’re late, Mr. Wayne!” he barks, so eavesdroppers (of whom there are so many!!) can hear, but much more quietly he’s getting up and unbuckling his belt. “This is with regards to some complaints lodged against you.”

“And what complaints are these?” Bruce murmurs, warm and smooth, coming in to get lodged up against Jason himself.

“Sexual harassment,” Jason lists out with a feral grin, immediately leaning down to gnaw into existence a vicious, purple bruise where it’s most most visible. “Public indecency. Lewd conduct. Take your pick, Mr. Wayne.”

Bruce happily tilts his head back to give Jason ample ample space. “Longer rap sheet than the last meeting. When have I been indecent in public?” And Bruce slips a hand into Jason’s hair, gets a good grip for a good tilt, for a good angle so’s he can sow his own violet bruises. “Hello, Jason.”

“Hey, babe,” Jason says, enjoying his own mauling. “And that public indecency’s for that time last Thursday I got you screaming in the north entrance copy room. Someone put in a note for maintenance, seems like from a floor down it sounded like a rabid raccoon was loose up here.”

“Rabid is an extremely uncharitable thing to say about me,” Bruce says, unbuckling his belt and tugging out his shirt. “And I don’t believe they know what a rabid raccoon would sound like regardless.”

Jason’s already kneeling to tug Bruce’s pants down, taking a moment to kiss the straps of the sock garter on each leg. “Dunno ‘bout that, B, you were moanin’ and foamin’ in the mouth, and you sure were trying to bite my lights out. Rabid behaviour, if you ask me.”

Bruce tries to tip Jason over with his shoe (ineffectually). “See if I ever let you have me in public again,” he threatens (ineffectually).

“Don’t make threats you know you can’t keep, babe.” Jason’s up and tugging Bruce to his gorgeous mahogany desk, chosen specifically because the cheap pine shit he’d originally had hadn’t lasted very long under their combined, uhm, forces. “Didn’t sound upset in the slightest when you were getting your shit rocked and your, heh, tits Xeroxed, did you now?”

He doesn’t give Bruce much time or space to complain, leaning him over and rucking the shirt up a bit. It’s easily in Bruce’s top 5 looks; shirt and underwear and socks and straps, a little mussed and a little dazed (it’s before noon after all). “In fact, Mr. Wayne, it does seem like you’re being purposely obstructive to my investigation into your inappropriate behaviour.”

Bruce laughs loud enough to be audible outside the office (and he’s trying to pretend he doesn’t like being public-like!). “I believe I have grounds to complain about inappropriate behaviour myself, Mr. Tedd. I have this subordinate, see, and he looks at me extremely disrespectfully.”

"Disrespectfully how?" Jason asks with faux-politeness, unzipping his fly and already so hard it'd be dizzying in a lesser man. God, but Bruce should spend way way more time with no pants on.

"I suspect he's having extremely inappropriate thoughts about me," Bruce says mildly, reaching back with one hand to very gently run his beautifully manicured nails over where Jason's getting his own boxers damp. "I fear he's going to make physical contact one of these days. I can't imagine what he'd do to me if he got his hands on me."

Jason tugs Bruce's hand away from his dick (after he shiver-shudder-shakes a little over the feel of it), tugs it up so he can kiss them blocky stocky fingers, before pressing it down to the table. "That's no good, no good at all. I believe, Mr. Wayne, that I should give you some examples of things that you absolutely should report."

"I think," Bruce says, arching his back, "I'll need at least 3 examples."

Jason laughs. "Baby, I downed 2 Red Bulls for this. You might be getting more 'n 5."

-

It's always such fucking loud fucking, but everyone agrees that Mr. Wayne's been much much chirpier at work since Jackson started at the office a couple of months ago. Sure, it's inappropriate as all get-out, but Mr. Tedd broke the wrist of the fucking pervert in IT that would make sure to cop a feel or 10 any time he came by a woman's cubicle to look at her computer, so it's safe to say he's not saying yes because he can't say no.

Also, everyone in HR got gifted the latest Wayne Tech noise-cancelling earphones for, uhm, the Lunar New Year, and it's been strongly implied that it's Cool if people didn't want to use them during the more disruptive HR 'meetings', so.

So.

-

Mr. Wayne limps out an hour later, mussed to hell and back with bitemarks and bruises littering every inch of visible skin. There're alarming wet spots everywhere, what looks like smudged lipstick on his collar, and he looks like he's in pain.

If this didn't happen every week, Marica might be more alarmed. If Mr. Wayne wasn't smiling like a goddamn dope, Marica might be more alarmed. But her cubicle's close to the hallway leading to the Executive Suite; she's used to this.

Instead, she gets up and heads straight to the break room. It's all intricate rituals, is corporate life. Don't wear Nightwing merch (Mr. Tedd is a hater), keep the coffee pot topped up, be nice to the janitorial staff (or else).

Another ritual is this; after 'HR meetings with the CEO', Mr. Tedd will go to the break room, make himself a heinously sweet latte, and Talk Absolute Shit.

"Hey, boss."

"Marica!" He turns to her and smiles, somehow looking like he's got more teeth than her. "Man, have I got some hot gossip for you."

She makes herself a drink too. She's pretty sure he lies about half the things he spreads around the office, but no one's ever been able to catch him out in one. It really adds to the intrigue. "What's the latest?"

Somehow, there's even more teeth. "I heard," he tells her low and slow, "that Wayne's got one his lover secretly working for him. Salacious, right?"

Marica frowns at him (the guy who just did a lot of loving(?)). "Is that supposed to be a secret?"

Mr. Tedd's smile widens. "Hey, hey. It's not me, not plain ol' Jackson Petty Tedd. No, heard it's some young thing, young enough to be his son."

Marica frowns harder. "You're helping him cheat on his partner?"

Mr. Tedd holds his hands up in surrender. "That's a pretty serious allegation there, Marica."

Considering that he's got bruised lips and a bruised neck and, god help them all, he's still clearly cranked enough that you can make out the nipple piercings, Marica can't frown hard enough.

Mr. Tedd softens. "Promise that his hot young thing's okay with all this. C'mon now, you can trust old Tedd."

The shitty thing is that they really really can (sexual harassment cases have Cratered under Mr. Tedd's hot bright loving approach). Marica nods, sipping her coffee. "Who is his partner, then?" she whispers.

Mr. Tedd winks at her, holding a finger to his lips. "Not going to blab all the secrets in one go, otherwise you'll never have coffee with me again."

At that, she rolls her eyes and breaks into a bit of a smile. "I'll catch up with you later, sir," she says, moving towards the door, feeling refreshed (though perhaps not as refreshed as Mr. Wayne).

"Don't leave just like that, Mari! I'll tell you a little more! For one thing, did you know Mr. Wayne's really really into p-"

Marica closes the door behind her.

[charmfamily]

Ask Game: List 5 things that make you happy, then put this in the askbox for the last 10 people who liked or reblogged something from you! get to know your mutuals and followers :)

Sorry this is late lol Thank you for sending this to me!! I needed this today! 🌕🌿 5 drops of moonbeams 🌕🌿 (things that make me happy) 🌕🌿 1. Being up really really late at night/early in the morning. The world feels still, manageable, quiet and almost liminal. I can't do this all the time but when I can it's very soothing and calming which for me is a kind of a big deal. If I've had a day that feels like it's gone off the rails, I'm pretty much guaranteed to be up especially late to try to 'make up' for it.

2. Those slime scooping videos on TikTok, but I have my own rating system for the "scoopability". I don't like slimes that are full of random shit and little trinkets that poke out of the scoop (I make exceptions for little bits that do not ruin the scoop and this is entirely subjective), I don't like em too textured, and with as little visible imperfections as possible in order to get a 10 from me, I'm very scrutinizing with that. Best ones are glossy slimes, Butter slimes, and Gel — sometimes Icee or Cloud Cream and I've seen a few great scoops of sand texture slimes. Seeing one of those accounts achieve a perfect scoop of something (especially if they don't scoop too fast and they let me FRICKING ENJOY IT, which is a big gripe I have 😂) is an instant hit of dopamine. Similarly, as in so close it doesn't really deserve it's own number, are those silicone color-mixing videos where you have to guess what color it's gonna be and you can watch it get rolled real smooth in that spinny rolly machine thing.

3. The Sims obviously! I love working on my little projects and sharing them with all of you. Being here makes me happy. You guys make me happy and socializing here, meeting all of you, has been such a wonderful thing. Going into build mode and CAS and just locking in on something is an outlet for my hyperfixation tendencies too, that's why my builds are usually so detailed and I spend hours in CAS making my sims as perfect (to me) as I can get them. It really annoys me when I miss something but that's few and far between and often times other people that interact with what I post don't even notice and think it's cool anyway. 🥹

4. Lately I've been playing something on steam called A Game About Digging a Hole. I did a regular run (great in the beginning then became VERY STRESSFUL) and now I'm on achievement mode, but I'm never going to get the time achievement of finishing in less than 30 minutes because I'm a completionist. I make sure I get every ore (it pains me when my inventory suddenly pops up as full without warning and I end up destroying an ore because I WAS ATTEMPTING A NO ORES DESTROYED RUN AND THIS HAPPENED 3 TIMES) and I dig until there are zero specks of dirt left at all meter levels. Wall to wall, I even get up under the flower bed and the foundation of the house. I'm determined to 100% this bitch lol

I need the better dynamite radius locked in the garage chest so I can blast that giant rock out of existence. I've tried like 6 times and for some reason IT JUST WILL NOT GO AWAY, like the dynamite will roll off and just explode nowhere and the giant undrillable hunk of metal persists much to my annoyance. Other than that, look at how nice it is! I was going to caption this look at my hole. 😂

5. I am a little sweet treat person all day every day. I treated myself again at the grocery store the last time I went and got the stuff to make mini strawberry shortcakes. Plain pound cake slices, Reddi Whip Extra Creamy, Fresh strawberries for those of you who think that sounds good and want to make your own lol. Having that with coffee? Amazing. Coffee in general by itself is amazing but you pair that with a little cake of some sort? Fuck yeah. Now we're talking. I also got some red grapes for a healthy sweet and my lunch and sometimes dinner these days is a snack-plate type of thing with grapes, babybel mini cheese, garlic cheese croutons and peppered turkey slices. I basically exist off charcuterie, caffeine and little cakes.

[thepeaklegendoffirstgen]

Shoutout to @notwhouthink for giving this idea and allowing me the opportunity to write this.Thank You So Much💗💝 and also @eugueen for reminding again that DG is based on G -Dragon thanks a lot❤️✨️.

NOTE: I have very little idea about the Kpop industry and G Dragon, and these are purely my headcanons,based on my limited knowledge and interpretation. If you'd like to add something or disagree on something, I am open to conversation and love to learn more. LONG POST😴

GENERAL

1.Let's start with his trainee era. Being the genius he is, he must have mastered and polished his skills to the T very early on. There were a lot of fan girls, admirers, and competition. He bagged his debut let's say he graduated from high school around 19 and spent 1 year in training so yeah debuted around 20.

2. Did he want to be a KPOP Idol probably not and was forced but he respects the occupation and the amount of effort that goes into it.

3. His debut was a huge success and people this is where his drastic personality change comes into play. From a cocky little shit to this calm and stoic gentleman. I think the agency crafted this image or Charles had a role to show the world this unattainable never bending to others, the brooding quite genius which ladies will love and men will envy.

4.Now to the type of songs, since he is inspired by G- Dragon he is versatile and very adaptable which is to say that I don’t think there is any genre that DG might not have explored. Hip-Hop, Rapping, R&B, Rock, Electropop you name it and he would have left no unexplored territory.

5. Coming to romantic music, I think this is where he might struggle a bit. But also where he takes inspiration from his fans. He might not outwardly show it but he is genuinely grateful to them and his romantic songs aren’t going to be typical cheesy ones but more inclined towards devotion and authenticity.

6.Man can dance. Very smooth and knows what to do to make the crowd go crazy. That peak of his abs you got he knew what he was doing but sorry that’s only what you will get. He isn’t going to go overboard or do something very wild nah uh.

7.Speaking of Aegyo or throwing it back. Sorry FAM but I can never ever see Diego doing this mostly because it also goes against this well-crafted unattainable idol image. His mystery and allure are his biggest assets and this will go against it I guess.

8.Coming to fans again. He likes them but he is also afraid of them. The first-gen legend isn’t scared of them in that way but the stalker girl did some degree of damage to him also I think Charles used to keep him in a chokehold in his teenage so maybe he gets a bit paranoid. That love and adoration is cute but please do it from a distance.

9.I think he is world famous, also because Eugene did ask if he expected to expand his career on an international level so from that it’s highly likely that he is recognized worldwide but maybe he doesn’t make English music as such.

10.During interviews or press conferences, he is very professional. Any question that seems personal is brushed off or cleverly moved in a different direction but yeah anything about his work he is completely honest because the public deserves that sincerity. In the fan meet up, he is going to be very sweet and nice but you can see that professional guard is always up, and don’t ever cross that.

11. Overall is a very successful, rich, and beloved idol of the country. Gives the love him or hate him but you can’t ignore him vibes which is also the case for him in the Lookism fandom. Based on everything he has worn so far his fashion sense is impeccable and mostly leans more on the star boy, classy and suave type.

ROMANCE

1.Sorry, but he isn’t dating his fan. Nope, it is not worth the risk considering how crazy and obsessed they can be. He has enough of these people in his life to deal with.

2. The most likely setting for DG dating anyone is you work in his agency and have a very professional relation, not buddies. Work setting like you may be his manager, fashion designer not an idol lol.

3. Not dating other models, actresses, or idols. The risk factor is huge, scandals and fan outrage and he is also not sure whether it is genuine, you get it. And from that Aru Arc I can conjure that he is used to people throwing themselves shamelessly at him so someone with modesty and decency will be a huge W. Feel like he high-key detests those unwarranted nudes or sexual favors and is never going to indulge in that act. Mostly he is too engrossed in himself to give a damn.

4.If you are dating him in his DG era understand that he trusts you a lot. No, he isn’t going to tell you about his past and Gapryong thing but his trust is there and slowly and steadily he will peel the layers but it’s a lot of work and patience.

5.Very important is your safety. He feels happy about the support but when it comes to your well-being and safety he is willing to go above and beyond. But also your relationship won’t be public.

6. But you won’t ever have to doubt his love and loyalty. I feel like he is the type who first won’t give a damn about romance in his DG era but if that true person comes along who is genuine and sees him for who he is, he will fall in love HARD and highly likely love that person forever. Again, this will take a huge time and effort. It's not just testing the water but also how guarded he is.

7.While you might feel jealous here and there and not confront about it , he is very observant and will definitely pick up on that. Will reassure you and is super patient with you, but if it gets too much, it might cause him an ick. See, he loves you that’s why you guys are dating, right? But yeah, he understands where you are coming from, but don’t go overboard and tell him if something is bothering you.

8.He will like someone who is equally as ambitious, hardworking, and devoted to their craft. He low-key finds it sexy and it will also help you both to understand your work time. But also someone genuinely nice but firm, it helps him to relax and just be himself. Not James, not DG, not a legend just to quietly exist and bask in each other’s presence.

9.In conclusion, Lover Boy DG isn’t as sweet and soft like his hair color, lol. Gift Giving, Teasing, and playfulness are his love language, has a hard time opening up, but you guys get there eventually.

[colibrie]

Reflections, part I

Art (and some writing!) courtesy of @trilobitepunch

Found sumthin…”

Donnie jumped, biting down on the urge to hiss as the sound of Raphie’s voice, soft as it tried to be, raked a knife sharply across his nerves. His insides writhed with the need to scream, or bite, or tuck himself into a dark corner and rock until the world disappeared. But he couldn’t do that. The master’s had always disapproved when he did. They had scolded him to “center himself”, to “release the feelings to the Force”. And he had tried too. So, so many times, he had tried to do as they said to control his body and mind. It had never worked. Only his family had… But the masters were gone, and so were most of his family. There was only one left. Only Raph. Raphael and Donatello against a cold world that did not care about them, and so Donnie had to find that stupid center and pull. Himself. Together.

He bit down hard on his lip, the pain helpfully grounding as he squashed those writhing, icky needs down and locked them away, smoothing his face into practiced neutrality before turning to look at his big brother. Raphael stood a few feet away, nervously shifting from foot to foot. His head was wrapped in makeshift bandages torn from the relatively cleaner portion of his inner robe, partially covering a patch of rust red crusted over the left side of his face. Small flakes broke away as his beak pulled back into a tentative smile, fluttering down to join the detritus of the alleyway as his hands triumphantly presenting their prize for Donatello’s inspection.

It was, in short, not much. Two slightly smushed ration bars in torn wrappers and a hunk of visibly stale bread. Not the most filling spread, or the most nourishing. But neither of them could afford to turn down the calories.

“Well done, Raphie,” Donnie nodded, something in his heart loosening when Rahael beamed at him. “You should take your portion first.”

“Nuh-uh! You go first Donnie!” Raph denied, puffing out his cheeks when Donnie shook his head.

“No Raphie, you require a greater level of caloric intake.”

“Raph doesn’t know about calor-a-whatitz, but you said I was your big brother, yeah? That means it’s my responsibility to take care’a you.”

“I am not that hungry,” Donnie protested, his tummy twisting uncomfortably as he stared at the food in Raph’s palms.

“That’s wha you said earlier, but I also know you haven’t eaten in a while. You gotta eat if yah wanna get big an strong Dee.”

“I…”

“Just try. Please?”

“…Sigh. Very well.”

The way Raph’s face lit up with pride and relief gave him the strength to reach out and take one of the ration bars. He broke off half, then grudgingly took a little bit more when the chasm between Raph’s eyes grew. The texture, like pavement gravel, dried sand, and fake fruit, made him want to puke, but he forced his reflexes back enough to swallow. Neither of them could afford to waste food.

“Come on, lets sit fer a few minutes, yeah?” Raph said, one hand landing on the back of Donatello’s shell to steer him closer to the ally wall.

“We shouldn’t stay in one place,” Donnie protested, even as his traitorous legs trembled beneath him, “the lower levels of Coruscant are dangerous.”

“An we’ll run faster if we take breaks when we can, right?”

“That is…unusually logical of you Raphala.”

“Really?”

Donatello’s heart sank at the hopeful look that Raph shot him as they curled up together behind a dumpster.

“Yes. You’ve always been a more, in your words, gut based turtle…I…take that to mean your memories have not returned?”

“Not beyond what you’ve told me,” Raph shrugged, looking down as he gnawed the bread. “I’m Raphael, your big brother. We’re Jedi, or we were? Somethin happened in the temple, an we had to run away. Then the tunnel collapsed when the bad guys caught up to us. Did I forget anything?”

“No, that is the gist of events,” Don confirmed, forcing himself to eat another tiny piece of the ration bar. “I will admit, I was hoping to see more come back independently.”

Hope was perhaps an incorrect term for the unidentifiable mess of emotions that churned inside him, but Donnie didn’t have the energy or inclination to try to pull those impossible threads apart. Not without…

“Well, maybe you could tell me more?”

More… a dangerous concept.

“What specifically would you like to know?”

“I dunno. What the temple was like? Did we have any other family there?”

“The temple?”

His face pinched slightly. He couldn't really fault his brother for wanting to know what he couldn't recall, knowing full well he'd want to extract every detail he could regain if he were in the same position. Then again, maybe he wouldn’t if it meant… It was a horrifying thought he quickly backed away from, ducking his head and drawing in a breath as he prepared his response, reluctantly letting his thoughts dip back into simpler, more pleasant times.

Vaulted halls supported by towering pillars and dappled with sunlight. The lush humidity within the Room of a Thousand Fountains, the blissful hush of the Archives. The soft, colorful walls of the creche, covered in drawings made by little hands. Food smudged on tiny fingers, colorful patterns swirling over a tiny shell…

“DeeDee! DeeDee I dwew this fo you!”

“It bwoke DeeDee, can you fix it?”

“I luve you DeeDee!”   

"The temple.... was the only home we knew. It was huge, and somehow both busy and quiet. People were always coming and going, especially after the war started. Jedi come from all over the galaxy, so we lived in the creche with others, and we had lessons in all matter of subjects. As for family…”

“Dee! Pst, Dee! Bet I can block more than you!”

“It’s gonna okay DonDon, don’t listen to them. Do you want to squeeze my hand?”

“That’s never gonna happen to us, Donatello. It’s going to be you and me, always. I promise.”

"...the Order was more or less family, but the Jedi didn’t encourage bonds and connections between its members," he finished, pretending to nibble at his ration bar to hide as he swallowed hard around the knot in his throat.

It was hard to keep that mask on with the pain of everything lost still so fresh. When that messy cyclone of emotions twisted and knotted even tighter inside of him. As his thoughts circled continuously around those last moments in the sewer tunnel, and those lost beneath the cave in. Master Yoshi, Michelangelo, Leo...

 He didn't even try to swallow another bite of his rations as something hot and sour and wrong flooded his throat, coating his tongue and teeth in bitterness. His stomach roiled, every little ache seemingly magnified as the emotions in his chest screamed their names over and over and over and-

“Well, at least we still got each other, right?”

Raphaels words pulled him from the maelstrom, gave him the strength to look up as one big arm wrapped around his shoulders. He stared as Raph smiled, the same smile overflowing with the warmth and reassurance only his eldest brother could provide. An eldest brother free from the enormity of all they had lost.

“…Yes,” He replied, bowing his head as he carefully tucked those names, and the memories they brought with them, away within his own memory.

“It’s for the best,” his mind whispered. “He doesn’t need to feel this. He doesn’t need to miss them. I can bear it for the both of us.”

“Come on then, lil bro,” Raph’s arm gently guided him back to his feet, taking the remains of his ration bar to tuck away for later. “Let’s try to look for a good place to sleep.”

……..

"What have we here?"