#I don't know what their ship name should be suggestions welcome

[totothewolff]

Chemtrails Over the Yacht Club Collection 18+ | Toto Wolff x reader, age gap, smut operator, clear daddy issues (this fic is inspired by Lana del Rey, duh), and yacht culture.

Summary: Toto Wolff is a name often mentioned at the Yacht Club, where you work after classes. For some reason, you have always pictured him as an old crank like the usual members, not this foxy man who arrives at the reception making your knees quiver.  The entire staff goes frenetic as he, one of the Club's most important clients, chooses to spend his spring break there without previous notice. You pray to the Gods that you don't cross lines with him since your entire livehood depends on this job, and you really want to graduate college. Author's note: This was supposed to be a one-shot but was way too long, so I split it into two chapters. I hope you enjoy them. By the way, this version of Toto has questionable morals.

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2 - Breaking up slowly

As Mr. Holst's gateway yacht trip reaches an end, you follow protocol and deliver Toto the guest's satisfaction survey before docking in the Club's harbor.

It's supposed to be confidential and private for the guest. Still, Toto reads you the questions and tells you his answer as he writes them, evaluating you while you sit on his lap in his cabin armchair.

"Any complaints or suggestions, please elaborate," he reads you. "Yes. Y/N's skirts should have been shorter. They don't do justice to that ass," he jokes as you blush, still in awe of him.

He squeezes your ass cheek and gives you a hard slap leaving a red mark, instantly turning you on.

"Fuck me, daddy" you beg him against his lips, already placing you on top of him. 

Your clothes hit the ground. 

You aren't sure if the waves are rocking the hull that hard or if it's Toto's powerful thrust as he fucks you relentlessly, firm grip on your hips, fingertips pressuring on your skin.

-

The guests enjoy the yacht's amenities till the last minute before docking in the harbor of the Yacht Club.

The crew and you are all but busy, going everywhere, attending to guests, and running safety checks and protocols.

You attend to Toto's daily demands as he peacefully sunbathes before going to his cabin to change outfits. His tan skin makes him look even more handsome.

You overheard him telling the person on the other end of the call that he was going to a meeting downtown. 

He'll be gone the entire day and the whole of your shift. At least a bit of a break for you!

These past few days have been a dream but tiresome.

As the sailing master safely and perfectly anchors the yacht in the harbor, the guests start to descend the ship. A small committee of girls with beverages and canapes welcomes them.

The only people remaining onboard the ship's deck are Toto and you; he wanted to go last.

As you two casually talk, he pulls out an envelope from the insides of his blue blazer and offers it with his hand for you to grab it.

"Sorry, what is this?!" you ask, looking at the rectangular yellow envelope.

"It's a brick of money, isn't it?" you think.

"Your tip," he confirms your thoughts.

"But that is excessive. No way I'm accepting it."

"Do so," he sounds authoritarian as usual. "'It's going to help you with that fine." 

"Oh, hey, listen, I will make it, don't worry about it."

"Y/N," he sounds serious, his eyes looking straight at you. He is a very kind and sweet person on the inside. Still, on the outside, he is always cold, stony-looking, demanding, and impossibly hot. "Take it," he enunciates, his controlling trait displaying.

You have noticed, just by being by his side all these days, the pull and effect he has on people and still holds on to you. He is someone you want to impress, to win his approval and have his attention.

"What do you think this is "Pretty Woman"? Calm down, Richard Gere!" you dare to joke to change the mood a bit.

"Aren't you too young to know that reference?" he still answers sternly.

"I live with the rom-com connoisseur, aka my aunt." you smile brightly at him.

Toto has avoided stepping onto personal life terrains, wanting to remain far apart.

"Last time I offer it, take it. You need it. Besides, it's not like you are going to buy a Kelly bag with it; it's for your tuition."

"A what?!" you think. "Wait! How does he know that? I don't remember mentioning that to him."

"Thank you, but I prefer to maintain our relationship non-monetarian." you stand your ground.

"Our relationship?" Toto thinks.

He places the envelope back into his inside pocket as he said he would and steps off without looking back at you, moving along with his day.

-

"Welcome back to land," Chloé greets you the next day as you clip your radio on your belt in the staff locker room. You're getting ready for another shift before hugging her.

"I'm impressed! I must admit. You almost, ALMOST, achieved it! You got a really good-rate review on the satisfaction chart from Mr. Wolff, something I've never seen before." Then, she makes a dramatic pause.

Only if she knew...

Before continuing: "But not so with Mr. Elrod. He placed a formal complaint since, according to him, your incident with him was life-threatening."

"OH COME ON! He barely swoll!" You look annoyed and want to smash the locker with your fist.

"I know, I checked. Still, I'm really proud of you! But Raphaël called you to his office, so please go there now."

-

Oh God, you hate going up there!

You arm yourself with patience while climbing the swirling stairs to the upper floor of the management wing of the building, where the big names' offices are.

He makes you wait for a long time. The fucker knows the long wait it's going to delay your chores and make you leave work late. Until his assistant informs you from her chair at the front desk that you can go in.

You open the large glass door into the Assistant General Manager's office with a speech already prepared in your mind in case of the worst.

Raphaël is leaning back on his enormous executive leather chair and massive desk that screams small dick energy, looking sternly at you. 

Raphaël is a very posh, solemn, and wealthy fucker who is besties with Mr. Holst and his entire family and extended family, a textbook social climber.

A very uptight asshole. Raphaël chose to dislike you from the moment you set foot at the Club; he tries to get you fired at any given chance. 

Most of the girls who work there are beautiful and come from an obvious upper class; most are daughters, nieces, or granddaughters of...

The Yacht Club is where the rich teach their kids a lesson on the value of work or use it as a perfect excuse to kick them out of the house for a few hours.

Usually, they get hired because daddy made a call, and you are none of that.

"Ah, good morning," he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I see you're still here. I'm surprised you didn't quit on the spot after that dangerous incident."

You take a deep breath and try to keep your cool. "Good morning, Raphaël. I'm still here because I'm committed to doing my job to the best of my ability and finding a solution to the problem rather than blaming myself."

Raphaël snorts. "You're the one who caused the problem, sweetheart. You're always causing problems. You're a liability to this company."

You feel angry at his words, but you keep your composure. "I understand you're upset, but I'm trying my best."

Raphaël swings a bit in his chair, his eyes narrowing. "You're just a silly girl who doesn't know how to do her job. You're lucky I'm even giving you a final and last chance to prove yourself."

You feel a lump form in your throat. "I understand you don't think highly of me, but I'm trying to do my best; I have learned fast and proved myself worthy."

Raphaël laughs a cold, cruel sound. "You're just not cut out for this job, sweetheart. We are the best and need the best on our team."

"I...I don't know what to say," you stutter.

Raphaël leans forward, his eyes glinting with triumph. "Just thank Ava, sweetie, for changing Holst's mind. You're on thin ice, one more mistake, and you're gone. You can leave now," he dismisses you.

-

"Thank you, I owe you one, I guess," you whisper to Ava for saving your ass as you cross paths with her in the beautiful and perfectly maintained gardens.

"You were kind to me," she says in the same tone as usual, not as friendlier as you would have liked. "I trust you keep our conversation from that day private."

"Pinky promise," you offer her your pinky. She looks at you with an "ugh" expression, rolls her eyes, and walks away. A couple of steps further, she turns to smile at you.

Now you two are best friends for life in your head! IJBOL.

-

The following two weeks are a swirl of moans as Toto, and you can't keep your hands off each other. 

You fuck everywhere private and remote enough, where there are no security cameras.

You can't have enough of his dick and his body. You are so infatuated with him.

Every time he calls in you at his villa, you end up fucking; it doesn't matter how hard you both try to fight the urge to do so.

He has had you against the door, his bedframe, or the room's vanity, on top of the piano and even in the jacuzzi. The sex drive of that fit man is spectacular, and you are young enough to keep its pace.

You have never been so sexually active and free in your life, learning and experiencing many things for the first time. Toto makes the best teacher and lover you have ever had.

By this point, you lost count of how many times you have moaned his name, called him daddy, or the number of times he has made you cum and beg for more.

-

Your aunt and close friends start to notice your glow. Lately, you look radiant and happy.

She is intrigued to know the reason behind it as you two go to the mall on Sunday.

"FINE. I WILL TELL YOU! I'm dating the most gorgeous, wise, handsome, accomplished, hot guy, AND HE IS SO INTO ME! Can you believe it?!"

"Oh, I can. My niece is great! And where did you meet this adonis, and most importantly, does he have an older brother?"

"He is an older brother!" you want to say but don't. 

She doesn't need to know every single detail, not yet. You want to keep it a surprise for when you take Toto home.

"He has a sister," you answer.

"Ah! And what else can you tell me?"

"Well, he is from Austria! I plan to invite him over to have dinner at the apartment so you can meet and ask him all the questions you want. What do you think?"

The look she gives you! You had never taken a single boy to the house. This must be serious, then.

"Has he tasted your cooking yet?" she wonders before answering.

You shake your head.

"Well, if he survives it, then it's true love!" you two laugh as your aunt jokes and links her arm with yours before adding: "Please invite him for dinner. I'd love to meet him, but you know what! Better buy lasagna. We want this to work, right?!"

-

You love to text Toto sweet and touchy messages throughout the day that hint at how he makes you feel, how much he means to you, and how great it is to be with him.

You are in love.

Yet, you try not to suffocate him or embarrass yourself, still being nervous around him, still wanting his approval. 

Toto still intimidates you. Being the powerful and dominant man he is.

You can't believe you snatched him! Lucky girl!

But in your mind, fuck! Wedding bells are already chirping, and future children's name-searching is already happening.

-

The Yacht Club has a museum/memorabilia section that almost no one visits. It's located far away from the lobby and main guest areas, and for obvious reasons, it has many security cameras. 

But next to it, further down the hallway, there's a blind spot on the CCTV system, right in the space of the door to an old phone room. 

In this room, the original antic magneto wall set telephone is still mounted on the wall, along with a stern wood chair where people used to chat in private.

You ask Toto to meet you there after he texts you he hasn't seen you today. 

Also, you want to inform him that you are going on a "two-day leave" plus the weekend, so you will be away from him for four days. 

You don't want to send him mixed signals, and you're getting paranoid that he might think you're running away.

And since you don't want to miss him, maybe he could join you if he wants and feels like it. You know, couple life outside the Club.

A hand-in-hand walk through Monaco's streets sounds nice; a cute date with wine and kisses sounds more than good.

-

When he closes the door behind him, the place looks ridiculously smaller.

You immediately stand on your tiptoes to kiss him, wrapping your arms around him as you greet him. 

You share small, soft kisses for a while.

He sadly tells you he can't join you on your break. 

Since he extended his stay, Toto has things scheduled on his agenda that he is supposed to be doing in his office in London.

"But I'm going to miss you, daddy," you pout and give him the biggest Bambi-begging eyes.

"Not even that it's going to work. Try it with my assistant. Thanks for trying tho."

"Where can I meet her?"

He laughs before pulling you into a more intense kiss.

"Should we say goodbye to each other?" he says against your lips, caressing your neck.

"It is crazy how four days felt like nothing before you; now that I have you in my life, it's an eternity."

He holds you closer, pulling you by the waist.

"Then let's make it count enough to stay in each other minds for those days."

"You are permanently on my mind," you confess, burying your face in his shoulder, all red, and not even being able to look at him while feeling the expensive material of his jacket brushing your skin.

Then, your mouth finds his, kissing him hungrily. You push your tongue into his mouth, tangling with his, your hands sliding up the hard planes of his chest, then drifting over his shoulders to find the hem of his shirt. 

Your fingers feel his warm skin, sending a jolt of pleasure through him as you trace the contours of his muscles.

The smell of your perfume, jasmine, and vanilla intoxicates him. This scent will remind him of this moment as he passionately claims your mouth.

Slowly, you undress each other, savoring the anticipation. As hands wander over defined abs, curves, and dips, caresses become bold strokes.

The pads of your fingers move lower, exploring the ridges of his abdomen. With a smoldering look, you glance up at Toto, a wicked smile on your lips.

Heat spreads through him as you press yourself against his groin and your bare breasts against his chest. He can feel your heart pounding.

With a soft, playful jerk, you touch his growing excitement. "Eager, daddy?" you ask.

He nods.

You waste no time, and you get down to your knees as you take him into your mouth as he is sitting in the chair. Your warm, wet tongue swirls around him, your head bobbing gently as you work him in and out of your mouth. 

His fingers find their way into your soft, silken hair, gripping it gently, urging you on.

His pleasure moans grow as you work your magic, your tongue and lips exploring him for a while.

Slowly, you move up till your lips brush the shell of his ear. 

He commands you. "Ride me, now."

You shift your weight, adjusting your position to better align with Toto's cock, and you sink onto him, your pussy fitting itself around his cock like a glove; you feel a jolt of pleasure.

He fills you completely, and you allow yourself a moment to take in the intensity of that feeling, skin against skin.

Your hips begin to sway, moving gently to the rhythm of your shared breathing. With each undulation, the chair beneath you becomes part of the dance.

Toto's hands, which had been resting at his sides, now find their way to your waist, his fingers digging into your flesh as he feels you move against him.

Your breath is warm and soft against his neck as your bodies rock with each movement. You feel your core tighten, your pleasure growing in intensity. 

The control Toto wields over the rhythm, and you is intoxicating. Your breathing quickens.

"Faster," he orders you; you moan, obedient and needy. He wants you full force.

You feel the intensity of your coupling, the friction becoming almost unbearable.

You throw your head back mid powerful and intense bounces and cry out, desperate for release. 

His hands move to grip your thighs, his fingers applying pressure into your soft flesh as he guides your hips up and down to meet now his intense thrusts, Toto's bucking his hips up now, and your full breasts bounce against his sculpted chest.

Your lips meet in a passionate kiss; tongues entwine at a pace as hungry as the one below your waists. 

You tangle your hands in Toto's hair, tugging it gently to urge him for more as you clench your sex around him, drawing out an animalistic groan from deep within him. 

"Fuck, yes, Y/N," Toto growls through gritted teeth. He slams his balls into your pussy again and again, driving you both closer to the edge.

Your bodies are all slick with sweat as you shudder atop Toto, releasing a visceral moan with an orgasm radiating from your core and rippling through every nerve in your body, dripping all over his shaft and thighs.

He growls low in his throat, a raw, primal sound that reverberates through the room as he surrenders to his own release.

-

Every day away, you text him, exchanging photos and moments from both days.

You can't keep away from him.

-

Upon your return, you attend and cheer for Toto, who is participating in the regatta rally. 

The sound of seagulls surrounds you, as does the smell of salt water and fresh coffee wafts from the food and beverage stalls, enticing the crowd on the quayside.

As the starting gun fires, a fleet of sleek, high-tech sailboats burst into action, their crews navigating the intricate course set out on the water. 

The crowd cheers and chants as the boats round each mark, their helmsmen and women trimming their sails to maximize speed. 

As the regatta approaches its climax, the top boats are neck and neck, and Toto and his crew are straining every muscle to gain that precious extra yard. 

The tension is palpable as his boat crosses the finish line, and he and his crew leap into celebration as they win the rally.

Meanwhile, champagne corks pop on the quayside, and glasses get raised in a toast to the winners. 

The air is filled with conversation as the member's friends and families mingle, congratulating each other on a thrilling day under their giant sun umbrellas and comfy outdoor chairs.

Meanwhile, you remained sitting on the pier under the sun with your crew coworkers by your side, waiting for your guests to return and watching the action unfold on the waters. 

All of you girls, legs hanging, white sneakers almost touching the waters beneath you, dress in blue shorts and white polos with the Club's logo patch on the left.

After a while, the sun and the wood surface start to irritate your face and ass, respectively.

You smile brightly at Toto when you spot him reaching closer in the boat, locking eyes with him.

His shirt is all wet, and what is beneath it is showing. You fight the urge to run your hand all over his chest when you reach him after the trophy ceremony.

-

As you finish setting Toto's regatta equipment back inside the shed in his villa's garden view deck, Léo approaches you, thinking you are alone.

Staring at your bend over the body, eyes on your ass. An excellent view. 

Toto watches this from inside. He stepped inside to go shower.

"Y/N!" you turn without flinching, familiar with the voice and happy to hear it. 

"Léo! Hi!"

"I missed you, cutie," he says to you, even if you are a girl. Then he welcomes you with a tight hug, pulling you off the ground.

Toto wants to see how the scene unfolds, still without making himself be noticed. 

Why is that guy standing that close to you? Doesn't he know personal space?

He watches you two chat, you looking all happy and smiley, telling Léo all about your past days while his eyes burn on you. 

Toto catches desire in them, so when Léo places a hand on the shed and around you, Toto steps in.

"Kid," he calls for you. "My drink," he reminds you what he asked you to do next.

"Oh! Yes, sir!" You quickly move to serve Toto's drink. Léo gives him a "those manners!" look, and they share a quick exchange. 

At that moment, Toto glimpses at his cook uniform in bright daylight and tells him, "I didn't ask for any food." This is a subtle hint to better leave.

When Toto moves to stand right behind you, you can almost feel his knee in the back of your thigh.

Léo proceeds to leave, sending him a silent fuck you with his eyes.

"Bye, gorgeous! See you around, my girl." Léo addresses you but holds his gaze at Toto as he walks away, looking back.

"Okay..." you think, watching them interact.

-

"Let's go, kid," he orders you.

"Where?!" you ask as he drags you by the arm, a firm grip on your forearm as he pulls you along.

"Move," he instructs.

-

Minutes later, the sun warms Toto's back as he expertly maneuvers his jet ski on the waters. Going extremely fast as you hold tight to his body, the jet ski roaring beneath you, surging forward as water sprays behind you.

The salty ocean breeze whips through his dark hair and yours. 

A desolate yet inviting small beach appears in the distance as a coast unfolds. Toto gestures to you to the sandy expanse, "There."

You glance at the beach in question and raise your delicate eyebrows. "You brought us here? Why?"

"I have something to make clear." It's all he answers, in a harsh voice, before reaching land.

-

The waves lap gently against the fine white sands of the isolated coastline. You take a moment to enjoy the sounds of the ocean and the serenity of nature surrounding you.

Your skin and Toto's glisten with sweat, seawater, and sunscreen. 

His gaze roams over your body, relishing the breathtaking view. He licks his lips, unable to resist himself any longer. 

His eyes are so intense on you that he almost looks angry. Toto's expression dangerously morphs into a lust-filled one. 

He leans closer to claim your mouth in a rough, passionate kiss. Parting your lips brusquely, allowing himself to explore and taste your sweetness with his tongue while holding your neck with a stern grip.

His hands move to press your slick body firmly.

Toto then powerfully lifts you from the ground and takes you further into the beach, finally pushing you to the sand and rolling on top of you, feeling your breasts crush against his chest. 

He pulls your legs open and places them around his waist, roughly handling you, nails pressing into your skin, and he sighs in pleasure, feeling your warmth pressed against his.

He moves to remove your clothes roughly and quickly, almost tearing your polo shirt; within seconds, you are both naked. "Beautiful," Toto whispers, voice dangerous.

Your eyes flare with desire and curiosity as he has never handled you this rough.

With no hesitation or warning, he pulls his rock-hard length inside you, making you gasp at the sudden move. Toto's voice rasp in your ear, "Only I can fill you up."

You nod eagerly, biting your lower lip.

"Say it," he demands.

"Yes, daddy. Only you can fill me," you whisper, your voice thick with arousal.

Those words send Toto's self-control over the ledge. 

He slides into you frenetically, your pussy taking his hard hits with thunderous moist claps. He is fucking you so harshly in such a powerful rhythm you can barely take him.

You bury your nails in the sand surrounding you, grasping. "Daddy!" you moan so loud.

"Fuck, your pussy feels so good," Toto growls, biting down on the curve of your neck.

His thrusts are desperate and animal, and every muscle in his body is rocking. You arch your back, moaning nonstop as Toto keeps hitting that perfect spot deep inside you, relentlessly. 

"Daddy! Please," you gasp for air. You can barely take it anymore. "Daddy! I can't." his balls deep thrust keep going. A massive moan escapes your lips.

"Be a nice girl, take this dick good." He commands.

"I-, I-, Daddy, please." Your fingers dig into his shoulders, urging him to let you catch your breath.

"You are only mine to have." Toto's mouth claims yours, swallowing your moans. 

"This pussy is all yours!" you are barely able to say, shaking violently under his strong jabs.

"Again," his dick slams you harder.

"I'm only yours!" you scream in an orgasm, breathing real loud.

"Again," he slams you with his dick again.

Your whimpers grow louder.

"I'm yours, daddy!"

The feeling of his raw masculinity taking you over, dominating you entirely, sends ripples of need through your core.

Each drive of his hips is a powerful claim, a branding that declares you his.

"Good girl, now it's clear." He kisses your lips softly and licks them, running his wet tongue all over them.

With one final thrust, he buries himself as deep inside you, feeling you clench and pulse around him as you cry out.

Toto's body shudders with the force of his release. You stay there, panting and covered in sweat and sand as the waves crash upon the shore, matching the rhythm of your breathing.

Toto stays inside you, wanting to remain close for a little longer. He places soft and sweet kisses all over your face, now tenderly caressing you. His soft touch is all over you.

He collapses in exhaustion next to your side. The two of you are naked with your backs to the sand and facing the sky, feeling the sun's warm rays on your skin. 

You can't help but smile as you look over at Toto, lying beside you with his muscular chest heaving up and down. 

"We're quite a mess," you chuckle, gesturing to the sand and fluids that cover your bodies.

Toto laughs, "Nothing that a quick rinse can't fix."

He watches you stand up, brush the sand off your ass, and sprint towards the ocean. 

Toto follows you, admiring your naked figure and the way your ass moves as you stride.

You dip your toes into the water, squealing as a wave crashes over your feet. Toto comes up behind you, planning to plunge you into the water, so you playfully run from him.

He catches and kisses you before lifting you in his arms and bringing you inside the water with him.

He admires your ability to be open-minded, fun, and fearless in pursuing new experiences, especially those involving him.

-

A call bell coming from Toto's living room makes you speed there. Your chores today were so fucking tedious; by this point, you have like four good hours inside the china's closet.

As soon as you enter, he informs you, "Kid, I need my things packed by 2 p.m."

"You are leaving?!!" That sounded more desperate than you expected.

"I need to fly to sign papers in my London office. I will return on Thursday, just in time for Holst's Casablanca-themed birthday party."

Oh, yeah, next week is going to be crazy. A fucking colossal gala it's going to take place at the Club's gardens.

-

When the elevator doors to Toto's office slide open, a burst of energy and femininity floods the room as the most stunning woman enters.

Toto's office is on the top floor of a sleek, modern skyscraper, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering an unobstructed panorama of the bustling London's metropolis.

Her impossible curves seem to have been crafted by the gods themselves.

Her long, dark, sleek hair cascades down her back, framing her heart-shaped face and highlighting her stunning eyes. 

With her full lips in a deep shade of red, she moves with a confident stride, her high heels clicking on the floor as she makes her way to Toto's desk. 

Her toned and shapely legs seem to go on forever. She is supermodel tall, and the way she moves her hips is enough to weaken any man in the knees.

Irina sits in one of the expensive designer chairs in front of Toto's trendy clear glass desk. Her fitted dress hugs her curves in all the right places. 

Her shoulders are bare, and the gentle swell of her breasts seems to strain against the fabric.

Her hands are long and elegant, and she has a massive diamond ring on the fourth finger of her left hand. 

As she leans back in the chair, her hair bounces against her shoulders, releasing a faint scent of perfume.

Looking busy behind his desk, Toto can't help but look up from his papers, his eyes locking onto hers with a mixture of surprise and admiration. 

-

Toto's iPhone buzzes on his desk surface as Irina moves to get comfy on the expensive velvet sofa by the wall after a good chat and a successful exchange on Irina's part.

Reminding Toto of his responsibilities in life.

He picks it up to open your chat.

"Since it's our first month anniversary and you are away. I had more time to prepare a gift for you." you text Toto.

He watches a photo loading on your conversation.

A photo of a completely naked you arrive, standing back to the camera behind a see-through light fabric curtain that looks like and is the one in his bedroom at his villa. 

Your shoulders, back, and ass are on full display, your silhouette looking delicious to him; you are posing with your arms up, both placed on your head, and your hair is in a bun.

No face, just body, in a contrast of light.

Toto feels like jerking off to that photo when a second one arrives. 

It's a close-up photo of your breast; you are laying on his bed in the villa, again with light fabric on top of your tits, nipples hard, looking ready for him to bite them: no face or more body below your waist on this one.

"What a masterpiece," he replies. "But who took them? It's that my villa? How did you manage?"

"A dear friend of mine takes boudoir photos. I lied to Chloé and told her the photographer came for a photo session appointment with the guests I'm serving during your leave."

"An that dear friend is?" instantly possesive.

"Anne, a girl friend from college, she is an art major," you quickly reply.

"They should hang them in a museum."

You feel so proud of yourself for making him react like that. God, you miss him.

"Hey, kid, you are home?" he looks at his Rolex, running calculous.

"Yes"

"Do me a favor then."

"Sure!"

"Touch yourself till you cum, and moan my name loud." you get wet, reading the text.

"Would you do the same, daddy?"

"Yes."

-

Irina wonders who makes him smile like that.

-

As you prepare everything at Toto's villa for his return, along with Chloé, you dare to ask her a question and discuss a topic you have been dreading for so long.

"Does Mr. Wolff have a leave date?" you gain the courage.

"He already overextended his stay, which is rare, as rare as him showing up unexpectedly as he did. Mr. Wolff is one of those people who schedules everything in advance and always informs us months before, so something must have happened." She reaches out to you to help you place the fresh sheets on his bed.

"So, no date?" you ask again.

"You grew tired of him already?" Chloé looks straight at you.

"OH. NO, NO. I'm just curious," you quickly add, waving your hands.

"No date, child"

Is he staying for you? You wonder in your head.

-

You two have never talked about your future. 

Toto leaving without you has become your biggest fear in life, like ever. 

-

The night is fully set over the sea, and the Club's grounds are set by the strumming of a Moroccan guitar, which sets the tone for the true extravaganza about to happen.

You see Ava fixing Mr. Holst's bowtie as he prepares for his grand entrance.

The Club's gardens transformed into a Moroccan oasis, and the towering palm trees were now adorned with twinkling fairy lights.

The crowd erupts into applause as Mr. Holst enters, resplendent in a tailored white suit and sunglasses, à la Rick Blaine, escorted by a troupe of really hot and barely dressed female dancers, who performed a mesmerizing choreographed routine to the iconic tunes of "As Time Goes By."

The tables are set with fine china and crystal glassware, adorned with candles and a sumptuous spread of Moroccan delicacies, including tagines, couscous, and fragrant pastries. 

The aroma of exotic spices wafts through the air.

Meanwhile, at the bar where you are currently working, the mixologists are shaking (not stirring) up signature cocktails inspired by the classic film's iconic characters. The "Ilsa," a refreshing blend of gin, lemon, and mint, is a particular hit among the guests.

The place is packed with wealthy people from around the globe, all friends of Mr. Holst and his wife, and the bar is the busiest spot. 

You are so busy that you haven't even had a chance to look for Toto. He must be somewhere looking all handsome in a classic tuxedo! Gosh, you die to see him and kiss him.

Then, Mr. Holst takes center stage once more, surrounded by his wife and children. With a heartfelt speech, he starts the party.

-

As midnight approaches, a massive three-tier cake held by two big guys enters in the old style, and everyone sings Happy Birthday to Mr. Holst as fireworks light up the night sky! 

The crowd cheers and oohs as sparks rain down upon them.

Then, you have your first break of the night. Some of your coworkers at recess get dinner, light a cigar, or just sit down in the crew's hidden section. It's been crazy!

You use the opportunity to text Toto: "Hi, my love. Where are you? I want to see your handsomeness in a tux. Daddy, I miss you so much."

-

As a tipsy Toto is laughing and drinking with Holst and his wife when the couple reaches the table where he is, Irina picks up his phone, buzzing on the table.

She reads the text you sent him and chunks of your conversation. 

"Who the fuck is "Kid"?!"

She then starts looking at the photos you shared, fuming, especially when she finds the ones from the boudoir photo session you took for Toto.

Oh, no, baby! Her wedding with Toto is happening, yes or yes, and she will not allow you to interfere!

Toto will not slip away from her! Not now, she got him back at the palm of her hand and into his senses!

It worked wonders to give him that bit of a break after he got cold feet and had second thoughts about committing himself to her.

No one touches what is hers, and she is about to teach you a lesson!

Now that she knows your face, it is just a matter of time before she finds you there.

Apparently, you work here.

-

You are navigating through the crowded party, surrounded by the thumping music and the hums of conversations because your boss asked you to move to attend a special guests table.

As you walk there, you feel a pair of eyes burning into your skin. The hottest woman you have ever seen is staring intensely at you. 

It turns out to be the table where Raphaël parents are. So, to your misfortune, he is also around, adding an extra stress layer to your night as he behaves demanding and pays attention to your every action.

-

As the night progresses, you feel unsure if you are being paranoid or that woman has been watching you for a long time, her gaze flicking from a phone to you again.

Mr. Holst greets you, and you congratulate him on his birthday; he sits to chat with Raphaël's elderly mom.

The hot woman suddenly swoops in, her long legs striding across the room to you. 

Her eyes flash with anger as she grabs your arm, her nails digging into your skin. "You think you're so special, don't you?" she hisses, her voice low and venomous, taking you completely by surprise.

You try to shake her off, not knowing what the fuck is happening! But she's too strong. 

She pulls you closer, her face inches from yours. "You're nothing but a foolish little fling to Toto," she sneers really loud for everyone at the table to hear.

You start to feel all eyes on you as she causes a scene.

"This means nothing to him! You are just an entertainment." she continues.

You feel a surge of embarrassment as you realize what's happening. 

Toto looks at you two, his eyes wide with surprise, but he doesn't intervene. Your bosses are standing nearby, their faces frozen in shock.

Irina shows you the stunning diamond ring on her hand and holds it up for everyone to see. 

The table you attend falls silent, and all eyes are on you. Humiliation hits you as you realize the scope of what's happening.

"You think you can just waltz in here and steal my man? Toto is marrying me," she says again, her voice dripping angrily. "Me! Stay the fuck away!"

Irina flings back into the crowd, her words echoing in your mind. 

You feel tears stinging in your eyes as you turn to flee the party. 

"Don't even bother to come back. You are fired." Raphaël addresses you, firing you in the spot, catching you preparing to leave, his gaze burning with triumph and victory.

The sounds of laughter and music fade into the distance as you stumble into the night air, your heart heavy with sorrow.

Léo and Chloé look astonished as they watch you leave after witnessing the show Irina put on.

Your heels are hitting the floor faster, and the trail of your fitted gorgeous gala dress sways behind you.

You know that you will never be able to show your face at this place again and that no one will ever look at you in the same way after this.

God, you are so mad at Toto and even more heartbroken!

-

A loud knock comes at the door; maybe your aunt left work early. "Coming!" you look like a mess with swollen eyes from all the crying and feeling like shit and heartbroken, destroyed, dusted, you name it.

Toto's tall figure greets you when you open the door.

"How yo-?!" you look at him, eyes filling with anger and tears again.

"Ava," he interrupts you. "She got your address and sent me in a car here."

He reads your intention to close the door to his face and stops it firmly with his muscular arm.

Toto invites himself into your apartment. Standing beside the worn-out cupboard, he looks out of place, especially in that expensive tuxedo.

Gosh, he looks so dreamy, fuck him!

"Irina was completely wrong. You are not entertainment; what happened with us was real; you are important to me, more than you imagine." He goes straight to the point, not wasting time making things clear.

You feel a couple of tears run down your eyes. Lots of emotions for just one night.

He reaches closer to wipe them with his fingers. "I shouldn't have allowed Irina to talk to you that way and embarrassed you. Please forgive me. For all. We were on a time off when I met you."

"Irina? You thought that was his sister. You heard Holst asking him about her at brunch, along with his mom," You stupid girl!

"I called off the engagement for good." He looks straight at you and closes the steps between you.

"You did?!" and you die to add the "for me," but you contain.

"Do you still want me?" he asks, leaning closer to your lips, his breath brushing your mouth.

"Yes," a beg escapes your lips.

-

Toto is there to apologize for the hurt he caused. He wants to reach for you, to hold you close, but he doesn't know where to begin. So, instead, he does the only thing that feels right at that moment.

His lips find yours in a tender kiss, at first gentle but exploring, as if trying to find his way home.

You respond with a soft sigh, and your hands roam over his back, muscles reacting to your gentle touch. 

Your mouths open to each other in a deep, consuming kiss, tongues darting and twisting, exploring every spot of the other's mouth.

Before any of you knows what is going on, you stumble your way towards the bed, Toto's hands finding the hem of your short nightgown, pulling it up and over your head, revealing your naked body. 

The sight of your bare skin is enough to take his breath away. 

Toto's fingers trace the curves of your breasts, thumbs flicking at your stiffening nipples as you gasp and arch into his touch. 

God, you always feel so good.

"Fuck," he mutters, bending his head to capture one of your nipples in his mouth. The taste of your nipple is intoxicating, and he moans in pleasure as his lips close around you.

Toto's mouth works its magic on each flick of his tongue and grazes of his teeth; you get wetter, your arousal building up.

Then his fingers find your folds, slick with need, and he spreads you open, fingering that pussy he very much loves.

He groans at the contact, his cock throbbing in response. He needs to be inside you. He needs to lose himself in you.

Clothes go out of the way.

Toto looks up at you, asking for consent, and with one swift motion, he enters you, his cock sliding into your wet, welcoming heat. You gasp as he fills you, your body adjusting to his size.

He doesn't move yet. He gives you time to get used to him. His eyes never leave yours as he waits, his breath hot against your skin. The anticipation is unbearable, and you rock your hips against him, urging him to move.

Toto growls, low and deep in his throat, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back into you. The force of his thrust pushes your body down against the bed, and you cry out as pleasure shoots through you.

The feel of Toto inside you, filling and completing you, is unlike anything.

Toto's thrusts become harder, more urgent, driving into you with a force that had you moaning out his name over and over again, lost in the pleasure of the moment.

The sound of your sweat-slicked bodies slapping against each other, the wetness that escapes with each thrust, fills the small room.

Your breasts bounce with every move. You are so close to the edge, your orgasm building deep within you. Toto feels your inner walls begin to flutter around his cock, the sensation driving him wild.

"Fuck, Toto!" you cry out, clutching at the sheets as your body trembles with pleasure under his thrust.

He repeats the motion over and over again, your body shaking beneath him, your moans desperate. Toto feels your body tighten around him and your inner walls milking his cock.

With a final, frantic thrust, Toto lets himself go. He cums hard, filling you with his release.

As you both come down from your high, Toto collapses onto you, his body panting and slick with sweat. 

You wrap your arms around him, holding him close as you both catch your breath.

Toto presses a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips brushing against your skin.

"Toto, I... I..." you try to build the courage to say.

"Yes?" His voice is husky but caring.

"I- I love you." You are all red, looking down, unable to face him. 

He pulls your chin up tenderly with his finger before kissing your lips. 

Before you dare to confess: "I never loved someone this much, I... I want a life with you and you to be my future. Could, you, I don't know, think about it, maybe, you know, you could... take me... with you to London, it sounds good."

A trail of kisses comes your way. "I will think about it, but let's sleep first. It's almost 4 a.m." he rubs his eyes and wraps you around his body.

"Yeah, I'm exhausted too; a lot happened." You kind of laugh and move to enjoy the view of his naked body, caressing him till he falls asleep, and you, too.

-

As sunlight creeps into your small room, you wake up disoriented. It's a hot day, and the AC is off.

"Toto?" you call his name; his body is not next to you, and you hear sounds from the kitchen.

"Is he making you breakfast? How sweet!"

You get on your feet and quickly pull some clothes on. You don't want to miss that moment for your life.

You pull the slightly already open door of your room to be greeted by an unexpected scene.

Surprisingly, your aunt is there, cooking breakfast for your mom. You look around the apartment, confused.

"Surprise!" your mom lets out from one of the chairs on the small round table. "Oh, it's only me, honey!" your mom informs you, thinking you are looking around to spot her family. As usual, believing life revolves around her.

"Are only just you two in here?" you ask.

"Ahm, yes..." your aunt says, holding the pan. "Well, no, if you count the ghost that lives here, the one who likes to throw my flowerpots."

"It's a cat!" you add before walking fast back to your room. Then you look at the clock, fuck! It's almost 1 p.m.; it's not breakfast time. It's lunchtime!

You pick up your phone, no new texts or calls from Toto; maybe he is dealing with shit after what happened. It's too bad you cannot go back to the Club.

What is that?!

You notice a folded piece of paper on the nightstand. You feel the fine paper on your fingertips as you open it:

"I'm sorry to do this to you, kid, but I can't."

And just like that, he exits your life.

Join us at The Wolff Pack Discord Server > https://discord.com/invite/tpgArxqbfd

[weemssapphic]

Strange

PART TWO: Welcome home

Link to part one - please read that first!

Brienne of Tarth x f!reader

Summary: Being on the run is the hardest, most heartbreaking thing you've ever done. More than anything, you wish you could go home.

Words: ~1.8k | ao3 link in title

Content/warnings: angst, breakups, hurt/comfort for this part!

A/N: This part of the fic is loosely based on the song Welcome Home by Radical Face! Again huge thanks to @dianneking for suggesting the song for this chapter!

It’s been almost six months now since you left your life - since you left Brienne - behind you. Some days are harder than others - especially when you’re technically on the run. You’ve been lying low, never staying anywhere for too long. You’re in the North now, but winter is coming, and you know that soon you should head farther south - who knows, maybe you’ll end up in Dorne. You’ve never been. Perhaps, though, you should leave Westeros entirely - it’s all getting awfully exhausting, and everything just reminds you of Brienne, and of a life you’ve run away from.

Tonight you’re sitting in a tavern. It’s dark and everyone is drunk, and no one cares about a stranger nursing a pint of ale in the corner, so long as that stranger minds their own business. You stare into your mug and twirl it idly this way and that, watching the amber liquid slosh around. Tomorrow, you’ll move on to the next town, the next tavern. 

Sleep, don't visit So, I choke on sun And the days blur into one And the backs of my eyes Hum with things I've never done

The door to the tavern swings open - the other patrons are too drunk to pay any mind to the tall, hooded stranger who enters, but you notice them immediately. Because they’re tall - too tall, even for a man - and there’s only one person in Westeros who’s that tall. 

You couldn’t tell if you’d be excited or afraid to cross paths with Brienne again - your body can’t decide either, apparently, for your heart flips as your stomach sinks. But there’s no need to get all riled up - the Lord Commander wouldn’t come here, she has no business this far north. 

Except the stranger doesn’t take a seat at the bar, nor do they head for one of the many empty tables - instead, they make a beeline for you. You can feel your heartbeat in your throat as you pull your own hooded cloak tighter around you. Your eyes dart about the tavern, trying to map out an escape route, but it’s too late - you hear the scraping of wood on wood and your eyes snap up to the tall stranger, who has taken a seat across from you.

“Didn’t think the North would be your style. I’d have thought you’d head for Dorne.” Their hood shrouds their face in shadows still, but you would recognize that gentle, gravelly voice anywhere.

You want to cry - you want to scream, actually. You want to fall to your knees and let out all the tears and anguish that you’ve kept in for the past six months. You want to grab onto Brienne’s cloak and beg her to stay with you, whatever she does, to take you back and never let you be so stupid as to leave again.

Instead, you shrug and take a healthy swig of ale. “Maybe for the winter.”

Brienne pushes her hood back just a little. You can see her face now - she looks the same as always, though maybe a bit more weary, a bit more worn-out. Or maybe that’s just your wishful thinking - that Brienne would be just as affected by the absence of your love as you are by the absence of hers. You wonder if she is - just as affected, that is. You wonder if she’s lost any sleep over you, if she still thinks of you sometimes, if she still reaches out in the middle of the night, only to find that spot right next to her in the bed cold to the touch. 

Ships are launching from my chest Some have names, but most do not If you find one, please Let me know what piece I′ve lost

Blinking back tears, you drain the rest of the ale in your mug and slam it down on the table, harder than intended. “What’s the Lord Commander doing this far north? Gone to visit Castle Black? Wouldn’t it be more prudent to send a more lowly knight?”

A strange look crosses Brienne’s face. Her brows knit together and her lips part - she seems to be struggling internally with something, and it takes her a while to find her voice. “Haven’t you heard?”

You snort. “Heard what? I’ve been kind of busy surviving, been keeping to myself. I’m not really in the position to be partaking in local gossip.” You don’t mean for your voice to be so cold and so hard, and you feel sorry for the hurt that flits - however briefly - across Brienne’s face. 

“I-I’m not… I’ve resigned.” The words come out in a rush. Brienne seems to be holding her breath now, and you cock your head to the side, furrowing your brow.

“What do you mean you’ve resigned? From what?”

Her breath comes out in an annoyed huff. “I’ve resigned. I’ve given up my position as Lord Commander.”

Your heartbeat stutters.

“You’ve what?” you hiss. You suddenly feel dizzy - you can hardly dare hope to be the reason Brienne of Tarth gave up the coveted position of Lord Commander, surely there must be another reason…

“Months ago, actually.” Brienne’s gaze falls to the table and she traces a long, slender finger over a little hole in the wood. “I’ve been searching for you… You’re hard to find, you know that?”

You can’t help but chuckle a bit - Brienne’s lips curl up into a little half-smile and she risks a shy glance at your face, peeking up through blonde lashes. Her expression is guarded but her eyes aren’t - they’re soft and hopeful and almost girlish in the sparkling naivety that they exude. 

“I probably should have headed to Dorne, it’s fucking cold up here,” you say with a breathy laugh, letting your hood fall back slightly. Brienne’s eyes immediately drink in your face, your hair - in the spirit of becoming harder to recognize, harder to catch, you’ve cut it and dyed it. You suddenly feel self-conscious as Brienne stares at you, your cheeks turning pink. “Don’t you like it?” you mutter, your eyes dropping to your lap.

Strong fingers grip your chin and tilt your head up, stealing the breath from your lungs. “I do, actually. It suits you.” She offers you a soft, sincere smile, and your face reddens further. It all feels so familiar, so comforting, and that hurts. You gently pry your chin from her grip and lean back a tad, just out of her reach - her face falls, and it makes your heart ache.

“Why did you resign? Why have you been looking for me?” Your heart is hammering against your ribcage, so hard it hurts - you’re afraid of the answer but you need to know.

Brienne takes a moment to mull over her words. When she answers, her tone is serious, her expression solemn. “I thought about what you said, the day you left. I-I’m sorry that I got angry, I was afraid. I was wrong to doubt you - I should have taken your side. I afforded my loyalty to the wrong people, and I have been paying for that mistake every day since you left.” Her chin quivers and her eyes are glassy, but she sits tall and looks intently into your eyes.

A swell of emotion crashes over you and you stand abruptly, drawing the attention of a few patrons. You yank your hood over your face and grab Brienne’s wrist - she allows you to drag her outside, where you pull her around to the back of the tavern and push her back against the cold, dirty wall.

“You’ve found me. Now what?” you ask, your voice low and demanding. You can see your breath in the cool air - it mingles with Brienne’s.

“I’m not letting you leave again. I’ll go with you this time. Please. I want to be with you, I need to be with you.”

You search Brienne’s eyes - they’re bright and earnest. “You know what that means for you - for us? Don’t think the King has forgotten what I’ve done.”

“I don’t think he’s very fond of me anymore either,” Brienne breathes out, and you can’t help but chuckle. She laughs, too, and before you know what you’re doing, you’re pushing yourself up on your tiptoes, your hands curling around the base of Brienne’s hood to pull her in for a kiss.

Her lips are cold and cracked - regardless, you feel your heart being mended the second they connect with your own. Her tongue darts out across your bottom lip and, fuck, she tastes like home and you sigh into the kiss as you allow her to deepen it. You kiss until you run out of air - and then you kiss some more.

Peel the scars from off my back I don't need them anymore You can throw them out Or keep them in your mason jars I've come home (home, home, home)

“I have something for you,” she murmurs against your lips, and you rest your forehead against hers as she digs around in the pocket of her cloak. Whatever she’s just pulled out glints in the light of the moon and you pull back to get a closer look. Brienne takes your right hand in her own and places the object in your palm - it’s cold to the touch, and tears spring to your eyes when you see what it is. Her mother’s necklace.

“Bri-”

“It’s yours. It’s always been yours.” Her hand curls around your own and she closes your fist around the necklace, before placing a tender kiss to your knuckles. “I love you,” she whispers against your skin. “I’m sorry I didn’t say it back that day.”

You feel your face break out into a beaming smile - it feels strange (you haven’t smiled properly in so long) but it feels good.

“I love you, too, Brienne. I haven’t stopped, not for a minute.”

Brienne offers you a watery smile and chuckles - she sniffles a bit, her cheeks tinged pink.

“We cannot stay here now,” you whisper, your own smile faltering a bit.

“I know.” She sniffles again but her smile remains, and your stomach does a somersault - she looks so beautiful when she smiles and, Gods, you’ve missed her smile. You’ve missed her.

You bite your lip. “Where will we go?”

Brienne’s blush deepens and she takes in a shaky breath. “Would my lady like to accompany me to Dorne?”

Your smile returns full force - so wide that it hurts. “Your lady would very much like to accompany you to Dorne, Ser.”

“I’m not a knight anymore,” Brienne says with a quirked brow.

“You are to me.”

Brienne smiles softly and her fingers curl in the little ringlets of hair at the base of your neck as she pulls you closer. Her lips brush gently, slowly against your own as her other hand finds your lower back and tugs you flush against her. Her body is warm and comforting, and the tenderness of the kiss steals the air from your lungs and makes you feel dizzy. You wrap your arms around her neck to steady yourself and keep your knees from buckling as your tongue slowly enters her mouth; exploring, memorizing, coming home.

Here, beneath my lungs I feel your thumbs Press into my skin again

You know, without a doubt, that everything will be okay - no matter where you go. As long as Brienne is by your side, you will always be home.

Welcome home (home, home, home)

x

Taglist: @alexusonfire @brienneswife @rosieathena @pro-weems-places @bigolgay @kimiinou @imprincipalweemspet @h-doodles @bychrissi @katie-bennet @giogwensversion @gela123 @friskyfisher @justcallmelittleone @michi2504 @scream-queenlover @a-queen-and-her-throne @sequoirius @anne-lister @winterfireblond @imgayforwoman69  @Ssappling2004 @fictionalized-lesbian @i-like-reading @aemilia19 @milfsloverblog @missdowling @billiedeansbitch @The_Demon_of_your_Dream @agathaandgwenslesbian @http-sam @Cute-catx @saltrage @renravens @opheliauniverse @zillahofviolets-bayolet @scarlettssub @catechristiestuff @niceminipotato @barbarasstar @women-are-so-ethereal @thevillagegay @willowshadenox @lilfartbox1 @larissaoftarthweems @syrenacrainn @mysaviorfalsegod @theonefairygodmother @lvinhs @rainbow-hedgehog @sweetderacine @daydream-cement @milfomaniac @sapphos-ode @ilovetlcc @ladylarissaweems @makemyworldworthliving @yourmomwhitediamond

Join my taglist here!

[ghostwiththeemost]

⇢ ˗ˏˋ FROM THE CRADLE TO CREMATION . . . DEATH JUST NEEDS A LITTLE CONVERSATION ~ !࿐ྂ

Hey babes~ seems ya found my blog! Welcome to my humble abode. You may be asking “who is this SEXY SEXY man?” Well I’ll tell ya! I’m Behjdbbdnf… Beejkbngd… Bug wine. 🪲🧃. Use the emojis babe. I can’t type my own fucking name apparently. How fucked up is THAT?! Ugh, anyway… Let’s get onto the real shit. I’m the boss bitch here, you should hire me to get some shitty humans out of your beloved home. Or, call me up to fuck. Either works.

Alright, alright. People put their info and shit so I’ll do just that. I’m 🪲🧃, but ya can call me “sexy” or “handsome” or “sweets” or “pretty boy” or anything ;)~ Kay, moving on! I’m the ghost with the most, the biggest dick in town babe. He/him, but I can also be your/yours~ ;) I don’t care for labels, I’m a sexual beast. You wanna talk? Talk. You wanna flirt? Flirt. Send nudes? Eeeehhhh… Probably not, sorry sweetheart. I’d totally say yes, but that’d get me banned.

Anything else? Yeah, a lot actually. Ask me about shit. I’m over 600 years old, I’ve seen a lot, done a lot, witnessed a lot, I’m the fuckin best. I mean look at me, I’m the coolest ghost in town! ;)~ Also the best dick. DEFINITELY the best dick.

Well well well! Quite Fancy seeing you back here! Yet ANOTHER wonderful roleplay blog, and even a BETTER character?!?!??!?!1 WOAHHHHH! Wowie!

Hi! I'm the wonderful mod behind this obnoxious green ghoul of a man, and I hope you can stay a bit, have a seat, chat a bit! Learn a bit, see some tags behind this wonderful super duper cool page, yakknow how it is!

The name's Dew! Dewey if you wanna be fancy, but nah, I'm just a guy on the internet here to write for his funny bug man. No formalities needed. The pronouns are HE/SHE! I'm Genderfluid and Gay!

Kay, mini bits of info here... I'm an adult! So that being said I'm going to keep a boundary on certain aspects such as some forms of nsfw and SOME ships. Mostly I don't care? I'd just prefer if you were to tell me or have your age in bio before deciding to imply nsfw ROLEPLAYS. Flirting or nsfw anons I don't really care about, it's bound to happen, but you get it. also beetlebabes dni you all SUUUUUCKKKK.

Let's see... I have some other accounts. @candycoffinss , @photographerstanheight , @screamingqueenxoxo ... Other stuff, we'll see what I reveal.

Right, right... Tags and extra info... |🪲| ~ 𝑴𝑶𝑫 𝑻𝑨𝑳𝑲𝑺! - This is me talking!! >:] |🪲| ~ 𝑩𝑬𝑬𝑻𝑳𝑬𝑱𝑼𝑰𝑪𝑬 𝑨𝑵𝑺𝑾𝑬𝑹𝑺! - Replies to asks, you know how it is. |🪲| ~ 𝑩𝑱’𝑺 𝑽𝑰𝑪𝑻𝑰𝑴𝑺! - call for interacts maybe?? |🪲| ~ 𝑩𝑬𝑬𝑻𝑳𝑬𝑱𝑼𝑰𝑪𝑬 𝑺𝑷𝑬𝑨𝑲𝑺! - Random yapping he does, reblogs... etc. |🪲| ~ 𝑩𝑬𝑬𝑻𝑳𝑬𝑱𝑼𝑰𝑪𝑬𝑺 𝑯𝑨𝑼𝑵𝑻𝑰𝑵𝑮𝑺! - Interactions Yeaaaaa

|🪲🔞| ~ 𝑺𝑼𝑮𝑮𝑬𝑺𝑻𝑰𝑽𝑬! - yea some things will be suggestive labeled just in case pleeease be cautious tyyy beetlejuice can be a menace.

ALRIGHT! FINAL BIT OF INFO!!!!! This writing of beetlejuice is a mix of everything, but I'm mainly leaning toward Justin Collette's version of Beetlejuice. He's still Beetlejuice of course, but keep in mind he won't be much like Alex Brightman if you're looking for an adaptation of him! (...There will be crumbs tho. Pathetic meow meow...) ANYWAY! Yeah, Just wanted to throw that out there, I didn't know if people would want my head for it LMAOOOO but YEAH!!! I'm free w any interactions btw. other fandoms, other blogs, movie characters, musical characters, do it !! >:] ok I think that's it... until I decide to go bonkers again. thanks for reading if you got this far! smooches ur forehead /p

[user-needs-new-hyperfixation]

Trying to start a giant-ass meta on why I ship Mycroft/Albert and what there is to see of it and right off the bat I'm like...I want people to look at every single panel of their interactions.

No, it's not Sherliam levels. And BIG OLD DISCLAIMER: very little of what I'm going to present here is like "We were clearly intended to read it this way." I'll always argue that Sherliam is meant to be romantic: it hits so many well-established notes and tropes it's almost impossible to think otherwise. MycAl is a bit different. I do think it's definitely like...we're welcome and even invited to see it. But a LOT of my shipping it comes from the way I personally read and interpret things. So this is about explaining what I'm seeing that makes me ship it, rather than trying to be like "This is canon and you should agree with me." Anyway, for reference, I'll be using the official translation as far as it goes and then swapping to teawaffles' wonderful translation for the rest!

So...like right off the bat throughout the entirety of their Chapter 4 interactions their body language and expressions and ways of talking are so flirty? (Also, I still find it funny that in the manga Mycroft is introduced before Sherlock and thus Mycal is introduced before Sherliam. Older bros first lol.)

Maybe it's just that 2 decades on the internet have skewed me towards reading suggestiveness into everything, but the way Mycroft addresses Albert feels so flirtatious even if he's literally just being normal. "And what would an Indian Army official such as yourself want from an intelligence official such as myself this late in the evening?" Like...am I crazy? Does that not kinda sound like a porn intro? 😂 (This could also be Sherliam Side-effects. The way they call each other Professor and Detective in That One Scene is like...almost undeniably foreplay. Now every time anyone calls each other by title/profession/rank is this series I assume they're hitting on each other.)

But also Albert is just so...handsy throughout that scene. He's touching Mycroft's knickknacks, and just sort of limp-wristing all over the place. And I mean, I think that's just one of Albert's public-facing personas (customer service peeps, you know what's up) but it definitely lends itself to the existence of Vibes.

Anyway, there's this parallel of "You have my attention. What do you want?" that I think is kinda neat. (But look how comparatively sad Mycroft looks in the second version!!!)

Chapter 4:

Chapter 23:

Btw, in Scandal in the British Empire...why does Mycroft introduce himself to the Queen? Never mind, not why we're here. Again, my weird innuendo sensors perk up in Chapter 17 at "I did not drag you out of bed this early for nothing." Maybe it's because my perception of Victorian niceties, whether it's factual or not, is that there was this sense of avoiding talk of physical realities. We don't speak of pregnancy, we speak of "her condition" and "confinement." We don't "go to bed," we "retire." And so on. So conversely, it feels almost suggestive to even acknowledge that someone was in bed. In whatever state of undress the might imply. *Kellen Goff Sasaki voice:* OOOH how sCanDaLOus. (Mind you I DON'T believe there is anything of authorial intent in this, again, just trying to explain the factors that make me read things a certain way.)

The little mind games: Albert immediately recognizing that he's being tested, and Mycroft well aware that something is off, that he and Albert are using each other to their own ends. All juicy ship ingredients.

Then there's this...I can't articulate why it's important. But it is. Something about mouths and thoughts. If I wasn't terribly lazy, I'd go digging for examples in various manga series and I have a pretty firm suspicion that I could prove that, often, Mouth-Focus Thinking Panel + Name = Ship.

Jumping forward to the start of The Riot in New Scotland Yard (Chapter 29), Mycroft's demeanour has really changed. During the meeting at the British Museum he's radiating "I'm not angry I'm just disappointed" energy. He's tense, he's not sure if the Moriartys are enemies and when he understands their plan he seems understandably sad about it even as he accepts it. But now, he's radiating an almost Sherlock-like excitement. He's just gotten to see a miniature version of The Plan in action during the Jack the Ripper case, and it worked. He says he's just visiting Albert as an acquaintance (read: friend in Mycroftian), and that's what it feels like. They're chummy. It's cute. Also Albert teasing Mycroft over his squabbles with Sherlock when he leaves? When did Albert find out about that, hmm? (I mean, could be spying of course. But I like to think it just suggests they've talked more than we've seen.)

Annnnnd....cutting this part off here because I'm bored of it for now and it's long. I'll do the rest when the mood strikes. 😂

[rose022]

hi~ im rose! (among other names lol, ask for them or find them) welcome to my intro!

- dont feel bad about blocking or unfollowing me, just wanna say this. i may make posts abt being confused when i see people leave but curate ur own experience idc be happy

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i also take requests for these!! or other stuff but like it will almost definitely take me a bajillion years to finish so if you wanna make sure i do something, gimme money. but u dont gotta its ok ily anyways

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[saintsenara]

If you’re still doing the ship game, what are your thoughts on Voldemort/Tonks? (Inspired mostly by the comparisons between Tonks and Bellatrix in the most recent chapter of One Year in Every Ten.)

anon, thank you so much for this ask - which has, to be quite honest, upended my world.

because i'd literally never thought about this ship before, but now i realise that i'm not only in line for a passport to vonks nation, i appear to be an accidental vonks sleeper cell...

i always write both bellatrix and andromeda as having personality types which map on very closely to the tonks we meet in order of the phoenix - funny, clumsy, cheeky, charismatic, bright, a bit naive, and possessed of an outrageous fashion sense.

there isn't a shipping reason behind this. it started way back when i was planning nor all that glisters gold and thinking about andromeda, and i realised i've never vibed with a fanon tendency to make her this incredibly haughty ice queen, and to suggest that all of tonks' vibrant or insincere personality traits are inherited from ted.

obviously - yes - andromeda doesn't come across as massively welcoming in her only canon appearance, but i think she can be forgiven this on the grounds that harry and hagrid have just destroyed half her garden, revealed that her daughter might have been murdered in a surprise death eater ambush, and shouted at her when harry mistakes her for bellatrix.

but nor, actually, does ted. and so i think it makes much more sense to imagine that they're both a bit curt because of the enormously dangerous situation they find themselves in, and that - outside of that context - andromeda is just as likely to be a great laugh as he is.

i should also say that i am really not a fan of the sort of "omg aristocrats are so brooding and mysterious" way of writing many of the pureblood characters in the series. and one of the things about this which i don't like is the way it reduces characters to gendered stereotypes, while rarely seeming to think critically about the actual gendered conventions which govern their lives we get a hint of in canon.

pureblood women are often reduced to descriptors such as "haughty", "mannered", "prim", "icy", and so on - and, yes, all of these are traits which are implied canonically about bellatrix and andromeda [and narcissa, sirius, and regulus as well...], but they are not traits which have to exist separately from ones we would associate with tonks.

because bellatrix is - canonically - both haughty and theatrical; both cruel and loyal; both in thrall to voldemort and willing to answer him back [it's always overlooked, i think, that, in half-blood prince she reveals that she's told the dark lord to his face that he's wrong to trust snape - that takes a pretty strong nerve!].

she's clever but not particularly cunning [she's a blunt instrument - subtlety is not her strong point]; incredibly charismatic [harry always notices her whenever she's in a room] but also quite artless interpersonally; entirely committed to her prejudiced beliefs and also clearly a little bit naive... her anger when harry says that voldemort's a half-blood in order of the phoenix is really striking when compared to the fact that lucius malfoy doesn't bat an eyelid - i have always thought that more of the death eaters are aware of voldemort's birth name and background than dumbledore believes, which malfoy basically confirms, and so i really like the insight this gives us into what bellatrix is unwilling to move beyond when it comes to the version of voldemort she has in her head.

and she's also someone who is clearly very affection-starved - and who can be written on the basis of her canon personality to be something of a hopeless romantic, and for the vision of romance she has to be quite idealistic and a bit girly. and this doesn't prevent her being a sadistic bigot who knows exactly what she's doing in the slightest - it just adds another layer to her character which i think is really interesting to explore.

i really like the complicated dissonance of her being proud to be the loyal lieutenant of a terrorist kingpin she believes is capable of magic beyond her wildest dreams and who rewards her for her service by not murdering her, and also her wishing to be wooed and sent roses and taken out dancing by a man who has never had the slightest intention of doing any such thing.

tonks also has that idealistic romantic streak - after all, she takes one look at the giant red flag lupin's waving and says "you son-of-a-bitch, i'm in" - and she also has the brains, charisma, bluntness, theatricality, loyalty, and ruthlessness of her aunt.

as an aside - i also really like these tonks-bellatrix comparisons because they undermine one of the series' lazier narrative conventions when it comes to writing women: that straightforwardly bad women can never have anything substantial in common with straightforwardly good ones. petunia has to be nothing like lily, for example, because lily is the series' central pinnacle of womanhood and petunia is a bitch.

the idea that tonks gets all the fun parts of her personality from her father is an offshoot of this. but i really like the fact that realising she is very like bellatrix would force harry et al. to actually reckon with the reality of what bellatrix did and to think critically, in contrast to the ministry's view that everything's fine with voldemort dead, about the conditions which enabled her radicalisation.

[i've written something touching briefly on this - everlasting ink - in which harry and ginny end up adopting delphini and discover she's both her mother's daughter and the reincarnation of a woman they adored.]

but to return, dazed and bleeding, to the vonks agenda...

it's an incontrovertible truth that voldemort mainly likes bellatrix because of her fanatical devotion to him, which enables him to use her freely as a tool for his own gain.

but this is not - i think it's reasonable to argue - the only reason he likes her. after all, she's not the only death eater who goes to azkaban rather than betray him, but he's not going around calling rabastan his favourite...

and her slight bolshiness evidently does contribute to his fondness for her.

the canonical voldemort clearly thinks of himself [even if, let's be real, he's wrong] as someone who doesn't like sycophants. he has no interest in hearing nott sr. gab at him following his resurrection; he is perfectly happy to be told by augustus rookwood that the way he's being going about trying to retrieve the prophecy is wrong; one of the things which drives his humiliation of lucius malfoy in the dark lord ascending is that he's fully aware that the malfoys hate having him squatting in their house, but that lucius would never have the backbone to tell him this. his trust in snape is implied, particularly in deathly hallows, to be connected to what he perceives as a frankness in the way snape speaks to him - him telling snape that he "sounds like lucius" just before he kills him is a way of him letting snape know that he thinks he's being shifty [which - of course - he thinks is because snape knows he's the true master of the elder wand].

he is also theatrical, charismatic, interpersonally offputting [in a context where you weren't afraid of him, think how annoying his tendency to witter would be], clever, strangely loyal [i talk about this a lot, but the fact that he berates wormtail for betraying james and lily - even though this is exactly what he wanted - is really striking], transcendentally attention-starved, and so on. and he clearly respects the idea of constructing one's own identity in defiance of social convention - his favour permits bellatrix to behave in a way which is clearly unusual for a woman of her social class and snape to be ranked higher than richer purebloods who should look down on him, for example.

and he's also - in his own way - a little bit of an idealist too. the elaborate fantasy he's shown to have constructed for himself as a child - that his father was a wizard [who, i presume, he imagines will reveal himself after dumbledore's visit, now that it's safe to do so], that his mother wouldn't have died if she'd mattered, that his father doesn't emerge because he's also dead [he doesn't realise he's alive until he visits morfin!] - is something he uses to self-soothe, and he's hugely rattled by anything which undermines his belief in this dreamscape. just as bellatrix is by any hint that he's not an almighty pureblood god.

and, above and beyond this - even though this is a much more controversial thing to say - he's also capable of being a hopeless romantic himself when he wants to be... it's astonishing to me that we as a fandom don't make more of the fact that he thinks that his parents were in love, that tom riddle sr. was responsible for naming him [even though he's shown in chamber of secrets to know that merope chose his names], and that his father only abandoned his mother because she revealed her magic to him. there is absolutely no chance that he heard this from either morfin or tom sr. - he just makes it up! - and yet he clearly believes, even as an adult, that there was a world of happy families he was denied by his father's lack of chivalry. and i think this adds a really interesting dimension to his obvious loneliness which is tremendous fun to explore.

in a context where the fact that she's an order member is insignificant to him, then, i think it's entirely plausible that he wouldn't hate tonks - which is, for him, essentially a proposal of marriage - on the basis of her similarity to his erstwhile fave.

and tonks, for her part, clearly has a horrible weakness for cruel, emotionally-unavailable, self-loathing men who are cheerfully capable of murder.

i don't not back it...

as a postscript, my two favourite tonks-voldemort moments in canon: the fact that, in the middle of planning a coup, he's taken time out of his day to learn that she's married lupin [it's giving xoxo gossip girl!]; and the fact that her wasting away from unrequited love in half-blood prince is exactly what happens to merope.

[frostycatblr-fandom-files]

Poets and Painters (Early Morning) - Wolffe x Reader [Mature Fic]

Warnings and Information: In desperate need of just one day to take his and his men's mind off the war, Plo Koon orders that everyone make a stop on a relatively uninhabited planet in a peaceful sector of the galaxy to… have a picnic? Just what does he have in mind? A certain flint-gray Commander is finding it hard to believe that they're just on the planet for a day of R&R in the middle of a war, so he isn't letting his guard down. Perhaps someone will help Commander Wolffe find some way to help him relax before the day is over… 2nd person POV. Reader is undescribed save for minor details like personal touches to a uniform, and has a gender-neutral alias. Allusions to canon-typical violence, mention of injury and loss, and Plo just being a dad to the 104th Battalion in the background. Swearing. Discussion of more adult themes and some lewd jokes the more the fic progresses (this is not an Explicit fic but it is Mature; Minors please DNI). Takes place on a fictional planet.

Word count: 4,390

Early Morning

It's unclear if someone perhaps made the suggestion to the General, or if he devised this idea on his own, but Master Plo has decided that the best use of the day today is to do… nothing at all. You are drifting through space in an area of the galaxy that has been seldom touched by this war. You didn't even recognize the name of the planet when you regarded the astronav aboard the bridge of the Jedi cruiser. Small, and relatively unpopulated according to what the scanners had picked up. There was hardly any record of this planet being here, in fact. It was puzzling to mostly everyone. 

"Yeah, well it was the same for Big Stormy in the Jedi archives according to the General, but Kamino was still very much there…" one trooper complains to his brother in the chair beside him with an unimpressed roll of his eyes, his arms laced tightly across his broad chest. "Who's to say other planets won't show up on the kriffing maps if not a lot of people come here?" His neighbor glowers at him in warning, hissing back under his breath to shut up or he's going to distract the General. 

To this, Plo Koon encourages the two young troops to settle themselves before Sergeant Sinker tells them to cut it out. "Come now, young Tack. Orchid is right, in a sense. There are perhaps even other galaxies we do not know about, or have a way to get to. This planet… Little Archossi… seems to be safe. We'll set down on the planet, away from what appears to be one of the settlements, so as not to disturb the inhabitants." Inhabitants that are assumed to be humanoid and sentient, but they have no way of making contact with them. Everyone is cautioned to not appear threatening to them should these Archossi (Archossian?) make an approach. 

They would surely notice a ship of this size over their home planet. 

The Triumphant looms imposingly above, just out of reach of the planet's atmosphere and gravitational pull. 

Disembarking the gunships, you step into the soft, springy grass of the large clearing on this forested planet. The atmosphere is breathable, and it's welcomed after so long in the presence of oxygen recyclers. 

The air is cool, and fragrant with a diverse bouquet of blooming wildflowers. Some are familiar, others are surprising and entirely unknown. Clone researchers, though they are not asked to, task themselves with determining these botanicals out of caution. "Just being preemptive, General Plo." Tack explains when the Kel Dorian Jedi comes to remind him that the Clones and crew of the Triumphant who joined him on the surface of the planet are here and meant to relax. "Just in case these flowers turn out to have irritants or strange pollen. Don't want any surprises, sir." 

Plo hums thoughtfully, the sound a deep, warm rumbling. "Very good, Tack. I hope you find what you are looking for soon so you may join your brothers." One of his steady hands makes a slow, sweeping gesture out to another part of the clearing, where several other brothers of the 104th battalion have gathered around the Commander.

He appears to be laying out a few ground rules with his men, from where you sit on a small, grassy knoll here in this break in the trees. You can catch words and small fragments of what he's saying, but you don't pay him much attention. Being just one of the crew aboard the cruiser, words like emergency flares and what must be the word holster don't pertain to anything you've brought along with you. There's no expectation of danger from the native people, but they say you can never be too prepared. Well, you're not too sure about that when you hear what was definitely the words stun setting and do not stray far. 

Surely the Commander was being a little overboard about all this… 

But that's not your business. You turn your attention back to the small canvas bag at your feet and root through it to find the personal belongings you've taken with you for today just as the researcher named Tack assures his General once again that he's perfectly content to spend his day like this. 

"Don't worry about me, General. I never mind spending a day researching things. Besides, I'm not the only one who's brought my usual gear with me. Looks like Arcadia brought their own datapad." Hearing your name, you pause just as you're pulling out the datapad since putting the spiral-bound sketchpad and graphite pencils you've thrown in the bag in your lap, meeting Tack's eye. 

"Oh this is just in case I want to read later," you explain with a laugh. "My, uh, older family members gave me some serious art supplies to take with me before I joined aboard the Triumphant and I just haven't had a chance to use 'em yet. Figured while we were on Little Archossi I'd give them a try." 

"Cool, cool. Have fun with that." Tack replies, smiling as he turns back to a dazzling blue flower with thin, silky petals. You've caught the interest of the Kel Dor, and he makes a request to sit beside you for the moment. You've been told by others that this Jedi Master makes a point to try to get to know as many people who serve alongside him as possible, that he's polite and seems to just radiate calm and wisdom.

"Yes of course, go right ahead." you tell him, moving the bag to the other side to make room beside you on the knoll. "Here." 

"Thank you," he starts, dipping his head in a slow gesture of gratitude, "I won't take up too much of your time Arcadia." 

"I don't mind if you do, General. I don't really know what I want to do with… all this." you assure him with a mild laugh, indicating the spiral-bound and the pencils resting on the thighs of your slate-gray, form-fitting uniform. You chose not to wear any of your casual-wear today, though it would be more comfortable in the long term. You were due to wash your uniforms soon enough, spending a day on a strange planet would expedite the need to do so in case of any contaminants.

You let him take one of the pencils to examine, noting how Master Plo takes such care with your personal property. "These were a gift to you, you said?" 

Your head bobs in answer. "That's right. I guess they thought I'd have a lot more opportunities to get back into artwork or something while I was stationed with the one-oh-fourth on the cruiser. But maybe I'll break in the new sketchbook today, with a little, uh… oh, what do they call it? Plein air sketching." You imagine the inquisitive blink of his eyes under the anti-ox mask and eyewear worn by the General when he does not say anything at first, and can only guess there is some sort of smile before the pencil is returned to you. "Most intriguing. Perhaps I will have to come by another time when you have made some progress." 

"You're certainly welcome to." 

"Thank you, Arcadia. I believe I should warn young Soapsuds to remember the Commander's warning about not straying too far…" There's a shared chuckle between you. Soapsuds is a darling, and a very courageous soldier for what are nicknamed "shinnies", but he can be a little bit forgetful. Perhaps with the Force, Plo Koon can sense what you can only assume: Commander Wolffe is having some difficulty with the primary objective for today. "Until later." 

You bid him farewell for the time being, too, and tuck back the cover to the sketchbook. The pages are surprisingly thick, and if you had a more serious artistic inclination, you could guess that the pages of this book could take a variety of mediums. Graphite pencil, for certain, and perhaps a number of other dry mediums like pastels or charcoal or coloring pencils. You're not certain it would do well with wet mediums at first glance. Maybe a layer or two of gouache? Looser styles of watercoloring? But probably not oils or acrylics, they would likely warp the pages and make everything tacky. 

It's admittedly been some time since making any use of traditional supplies for anything other than scribbling down a note to pass to a colleague, or taking records of serious instructions on the bridge. Before putting the pencil against the page, you mentally coach and coax yourself to take the plunge. 

I'll probably be a little rusty. That's okay. Just give it a shot. Maybe I'll surprise myself. 

The lead within is buttery-soft, and lays down a bold line without any skipping after it sweeps over the fine, toothy hills and valleys in the texture of the page. Oh. Oh wow. That's quality. You'll have to thank the gift giver for their generosity, and you promise yourself in a moment of wishful thinking to never use this for anything but artistic endeavors in the few fleeting chances you'll get for it.

(Would you keep this promise in a standard week from now, or a month at most? Unlikely.)

There's a groan of great annoyance from Tack to your left, still studying the beautiful blue flowers. "Not having any luck, Tack?" 

"No. It's not showing up on any of my catalogs." 

You frown sympathetically, lifting your head to meet his eye. "I'm sorry." 

"I'll figure something out…" Tack grumbles, lightly raking his nails along the back of his neck. "I just don't want to find out that this can make anyone sick, or something, before it's too late." 

"That's very sweet of you, Tack." you tell him with a kind smile as you continue to sketch loose shapes and lay down lines to break in this first page. Tack was rough around the edges, and could frustrate easily, but did not back down from a challenge just because he met a little resistance. "Say, can I ask you something?" 

"Shoot." 

"Does the Commander seem on edge to you this morning? I have to admit I'm having trouble telling." You feel you need to tread a little cautiously with this question. If you express that you think the leader of the 104th with a silver, cybernetic eye and a prominent stripe of scar tissue down his face is being a bit overbearing or uptight in any way when you don't know him quite so well, it would not make for a great first impression should word get back to him. 

Tack shrugs after a moment of thought. "Oh, Commander Wolffe? Yeah, I suppose so. He's a rather diligent man. Nothin' wrong with that of course-" 

"Of course, no." you cut in hurriedly. "I was only curious." 

"Don't know him so much, I'm guessing?" Tack makes a sound of understanding as you shake your head, "Ah, well, you haven't been here that long. Not many of us have been either, truthfully." He lays down a short summary of the battalion's history to you, answering questions best he can. Things changed dramatically after the Battle of Abregado; they lost so many brothers, there were only a few survivors of that encounter, and they were not always the flint gray they are now. 

"Maroon? Really."

"Mhm." 

"I see… And, his scar?" 

Tack suppresses a deep wince, but only just. "Sith." 

Your veins turn to ice momentarily in spite of the gentle warmth of the nearest star. "Maker." 

You've had your fill of the questions for the time being, wishing him luck as he tries his hand once more at identifying his mysterious flower. You're going to do your best not to stare at Commander Wolffe as he paces the perimeter of the clearing, keeping a vigilant watch for trouble. The General repeatedly invites him to have a seat and clear his mind for a moment, but he is turned down time and time again, politely but curtly. "No thank you, General Plo." 

The trooper you know to be Sergeant Sinker thanks to the pale, silver hair leans in closer to whisper something to the General, which only makes Jedi shake his head almost pityingly. "I was afraid of that… Thank you, Sinker." 

"Don't worry, General. He'll probably only pace for so long," Boost says in an attempt at comfort, "if the people of the planet were gonna come and investigate, they'd've done it by now. But we know to show them we mean 'em no harm." 

So was the Commander pacing the perimeter because he wanted to see any approachers before it was too late? Would he be keeping this up all day when they were meant to clear their heads for a change? Yes, they were advised to be aware of their surroundings, but securing a boundary might be a little much. What was driving him to be so watchful and defensive on a sparsely inhabited planet? 

Paranoia? Selflessness and love and concern for his brothers? Was this perhaps a sacrificial gesture: pacing and patrolling the circumference of the clearing to ensure that his soldiers, and some of the crew of the Triumphant, could be out here largely undisturbed without any rest for himself? 

If that was the case, it did not tug at your heartstrings gently. 

For someone with such a gentle name, Orchid has one of the worst swearing habits in the one-oh-fourth. "Oh karking Maker, the Commander finally sat the kriff down." Tack warns him to keep his voice down in a sharp-ish manner, and to take it easy on the language. 

You were glad that the man did finally decide to rest his legs and perhaps finally enjoy the day with the rest of you, but not so much where he decided to sit. 

You'd been trying to draw one of these interesting trees here on Little Archossi, where the sprawling crown of the canopy cascades down in thick, full plumes of leaves in multiple shades of red and orange. You had a few pencils for coloring in the bottom of the bag, and a decent pen that you could add a little ink to the page to outline some of the details, but now Commander Wolffe has plunked himself squarely in the middle of what you have been trying to draw for the last hour and a half. 

Of all the hills in this clearing, this is where he decided to sit? In front of the one tree in this entire area largely free of them? Everyone else has stayed clear of it when they realized they would be getting in the way of your artistic subject, apologizing and instead coming to sit beside you to watch for a few minutes. But he doesn't seem to notice you just across the way, just on the other hill. 

Well… it's not what you had in mind, but, maybe you could make this work, still. The armor and the anatomy won't be perfect by any means, though. You're thankful you kept your pressure light on the page, making it easier to erase a large area of the trunk you'd drawn previously and fill that space with the Commander. You just had to hope he didn't get up anytime soon.

Most of his body and the basic shapes of his armor are sketched out before the ceaseless skritch of the graphite must finally catch the Commander's attention just as you're warring with yourself on the matter of the codpiece. 

How much detail do I include here? Oh Maker if he sees this he'll probably realize I've been staring at his crot-

"What are you doing over there?" The voice from across the other grassy hill jolts you from your thoughts, and you are grateful you did not have your drawing implement against the page in that moment.

Oh, Maker, please do not let your face be red. "Ah, just doing a little outdoor sketching, Commander." Please do not let him ask you what you're drawing…

"What of…?" The Commander draws out his question, pausing when he probably does not remember, or know, your name. That's not super surprising, you tell yourself. You're just a crew member, and not one of his many men he interacts with on a regular basis. He not knowing your name is by no means personal. 

"Call me Arcadia. And the tree, sir."

"Am I in your way, Arcadia?" he asks, one of his eyebrows lifting just slightly with the question. 

"No, sir. You're not. You're included with the tree." you answer, stretching the truth. You have to hope that it doesn't come across in an unsettling or creepish fashion to the Clone Commander. Good impressions. Good impressions were important. "I, um, hope you don't mind." You don't want him to get up when he's just sat down. You don't want to feel like you're doing something unwelcome either. Something that would disrupt his enjoyment of this rare occasion in wartime; a peaceful day, among flowers and a grassy, hilly field surrounded by trees on all sides. His brothers are enjoying themselves, laying on their backs in the grass, faces warm in the golden sunlight with the day just beginning. 

The General is enjoying himself, and looks to be spending a little time with some of the other troops, showing them how to calm their minds with meditation. You heard one of the shinnies ask Master Plo about it not too long ago, and he was happy to oblige. 

Commander Wolffe should get to enjoy this day, too. 

"I don't mind." he answers. The tonal quality of his voice does not suggest begrudging agreement, a thinning veneer of patience, or complete indifference. "How long do I need to hold still?" He asks, the same eyebrow as before lifting again. 

"Not very," you reply, quickly returning your pencil to the page to begin sketching him again now that you were assured he would not be opposed to this, "the idea is to be quick when drawing outdoors, for the most part." 

"And why is that?" 

The graphite continues to skritter and skritch along the surface of the page, you do not stop what you are doing to answer him this time. You will get this done quickly, and you will take your work somewhere else to add color to it. "No two days will ever be the same, sir. Plein air painters and artists only have one day to complete what they work on." One day that you did not want to force being a live subject upon him. Agreeing to let you sketch his likeness into the sketchpad is one thing. Asking him to stay there as you added layers of color and ink to the page would be taking advantage of his agreement. His "day off". 

Resting his head back against the scale-patterned bark of the tree, Wolffe nods slowly in contemplation, closing his eyes. "And which are you, Arcadia?" You missed the question, so absorbed in the general shape of his face, and recalling that in order to draw eyes you need to keep them an eye's distance apart. 

"S-sorry, sir?" 

"I asked which one you are. A painter, or a different kind of artist." 

You shake your head softly, doing your best not to stammer terribly in shame for not hearing him. "Oh. I-I'm not much of a painter."  

"So a different kind of artist then," he suggests, tilting his head back just slightly for a moment while adjusting his legs in front of him, "a sketcher, perhaps." 

Your eyes meet with his for a fleeting moment when you glance back up from the page to finalize a few details of the position of his legs, the width of his thighs, and once again do not linger on the codpiece. "Um, I suppose? It's been a long time since I…" you trail off and shrug half-heartedly, unsure how to explain. Or if he even wants to hear it and is just making conversation to be polite. A man of his position and status in this war is busy, his mind must always be occupied with stratagem and contingencies and, recalling what Tack has said… loss. 

The Republic did not win that battle, and Wolffe lost so many brothers on top of it all. And an eye to a Sith. How much more would he lose? How much more would this galaxy take from him?

You frown, brow furrowing, at the thought. 

"What's the matter?" the man on the other hill asks you, expression neither puzzled or concerned. 

Quickly, you look back down at the page in your lap, and you choose something to lie about. "The detail on your shoulder plating. Unfortunately I think a lot of the finer details will be lost in the sketch." 

"Unfortunate." 

"Mhm…" 

You are thankful that you got most of the details down already. What you are not expecting is that when you look up again to make sure you have what you're looking for, you are now almost eye level with the white codpiece and the belt which his kama hangs from. Your heart is now hammering madly in your throat, and the rush of blood pounds steadily against your eardrum. Much like the silhouette of the Triumphant above Little Archossi, Commander Wolffe stands above you, and you feel small and almost frightened. (Almost.) 

You hadn't meant to, but you flinched to find him looming over you. He frowns. "Did I scare you?" You admit that he had, yes. You didn't even hear him move from under the tree on the other hill and come up to the top of this small knoll for all the armor he wore. "You need to pay attention to your surroundings at all times." Wolffe replies coolly, now dropping to sit next to you on your left. He removes the shoulder pad from his right upper arm, and holds it up beside your sketchpad. 

It feels a little insulting to be talked to like that, like one of his soldiers, when he told you to pay more attention. How dare he? "Sorry..." you mumble as you use the sharpest side of the pencil to try to copy down the wolf icon from a side-view on the graphite likeness of the man now next to you. "I didn't think you'd be moving so soon." 

More like at all. 

Maybe he can sense the subtext, and he becomes slightly apologetic. "Only thought it might help you to see it closer, Arcadia." Wolffe explains. He does not watch you, or respond in any way when you give a short sort of oh sound in reply to that; instead he visually sweeps the clearing for dangers or signs of trouble. You know he's listening to you, at least. The sound of short and terse scratches and more drawn-out, fluid, sweeping marks against the page keeps the moment from completely collapsing into uncomfortable silence. 

"...thanks." 

You've done the best you can to capture the face of the wolf, and the crescent moon-like shapes of the pad closest to you. You could probably stand to fine-tune Wolffe's face on the page, but that seems daunting to ask him to return under the tree on the other hill now just so you could get the proportions right. It wouldn't exactly come across well, you imagine. 

Thank you for showing me your shoulder pads up close and all but could you kriff off, now?

"You're welcome. Do you need anything else, Arcadia?" 

"No sir." you lie to the Commander through your teeth. You're just going to have to make do. This hill is taller than the other, and from here, you can see the whole clearing. This probably makes for an excellent vantage point with his strategic inclinations. "Thank you. I think I've gotten the right amount of detail, now, before I want to add some color." you continue, praying to all manner of galactic deities that you can now excuse yourself without any issue. But no such luck: you start to gather your datapad and other things, and he puts a stop to it with a single, simple question. 

He'd like to watch for a moment, if that's alright. 

Shit. 

"Sure." 

You put aside the graphite, and root through your bag for the coloring pencils. The bag has been largely untouched since it was given to you, but through one mishap or another the package of coloring pencils has been damaged, and the contents are now scattered in the bag. You have to hunt down all the necessary colors you need before any progress gets made. Sage will have to do for the grass, and Fawn will be your closest match to the color of the bark. For the leaves of the tree, Terra Cotta, a deep Marigold and Sunflower are your best choices. Regarding the Commander's armor… 

There's no gray. There is not a single gray pencil in the entire package. There's Lamp Black. But no gray. 

"Oh, kriff me sideways." you swear under your breath, forgetting the man beside you for the moment in your frustration. "Are you kidding me?" 

Wolffe just believes for the moment you can't find something, and takes the canvas bag from at your side without a word of permission. "Are you missing something?" 

You let it go that he's taken the bag to look, it's not that big of a deal. He's only trying to help. "Yes and no. I need gray for your armor, but the package doesn't have it." Giving him the broken carton, you let him see for himself that trying to look in your bag is a kind, but ultimately fruitless effort. 

An alternative is quietly pointed out. "... it does have maroon." 

Your heart hangs heavily in your rib cage knowing what you do now. You can only imagine his own heart will be heavier still. You have never seen the 104th battalion in that color of paint; only ever heard the tales of their escapades and exploits when their armor must have gleamed in that handsome and deep, warm red. 

But tragedy and loss has stolen the color out of their coats, and they move in shadow. 

Now when the Wolves run and hunt and fight, it is only in gray.

Note from Frost: I, uh... hoo boy. I don't know how to explain where this one came from. I feel a little out of my element, here, knowing what's coming and how under-practiced I am when it comes to writing more mature themes. Any pointers and/or feedback at all would be appreciated, honestly. Appreciate anyone who took the time to read this, too!

Don't have a fic taglist for the time being, but I'll likely start one soon if I can figure out how to make those forms some people have since I write a variety of stuff. For now, though, if you'd like to join a taglist for specific types of fics (example: just TBB-centric or just TCW-centric (or both)) don't hesitate to ask. 🩷

[FFF Masterlist] [Series Masterlist] [TCW Masterlist]

[You are here] [Midday] [Late Afternoon] [Evening] [Deep Night]

[Golden Dawn Part 1] [Golden Dawn Part 2]

[dinotruxparty]

Introducing myself :)

My name is Regina, but my username is MegatruxFR

What do i do?

I make art, i post pictures of Dinotrux, i make memes and i sometimes write

Where else can you find me?

Youtube: MegatruxFR (1,53K subscribers, Dinotrux content)

Pinterest: MegatruxFR - Reg1na_Rand0m (Dinotrux content, but also TMNT, Sonic and my own art.

DeviantArt: MegatruxFR - I post my art and pictures for Sonic and Dinotrux lol

In what fandoms am i?

I am most known in the Dinotrux fandom, i have been in it for 2 years. I am sort of in the Ninja Turtles fandom, (i especially like the 2012 series), and i still like Sonic, i'm slowly getting back in the fandom, but its waking on eggs bc of how toxic it is. So yall just gonna have to wait for me there :(

What you can expect:

- fanart

- fanfictions

- reviews / rants

Approaching me

I am a girl and i go by she/her.

Why do i love Dinotrux?

- Helped me with anger problems i have been coping with for most of my life

- I strongly relate to the characters (especially Dozer)

- First show ever that hit on an emotional level for some reason.

Rules for my blog:

1. Most of the blogs on here are art or essays about stuff i like, these essays are MY OPINIONS and you do not have to agree with me. Please be respectful.

2. Do not use my art in videos / edits without credit.

3. Do not trace my art or use it for AI purposes.

4. This is a safe blog. I do not allow hateful speech such as racism, homophobic / LGBTQ+phobic speech or bullying on my blog.

5. Target the argument, not the person.

6. If someone has a problem with me, i want to handle this maturely. I will remain patient and as respectful as possible, but if this behaivor isnt returned, lets lets say your behaivor is returned, by me. I want to stay respectful and i'm old enough to deal with problems and critic, i also know that random people on the internet shouldnt judge me of a first impression, so neither should i. I want everyone to stay safe ❤️

7. Dinotrux or Sonic art requests are welcome, but please don't suggest NSFW / R34 art for me, these will be ignored. Ship art is fine as long as the characters are both children or both adults, and fictional. Drawing ship art of real people is weird. What are you doing?

8 and final: i don't usually do follow backs. Most of the people i follow i know from Youtube. I dont take follow requests from people i dont know :D

Anyway thats it! Hope you enjoy my blog! Expect Dinotrux and art! Bye!!

[emilythedog661-tf2]

Fanfic i've been doing since 2017

And due to public complaint, i've changed the name and cover of the fic so here you are to everyone who complained, it's now called 'TF2 Mercs & Child Reader' instead of 'TF2 Mercs X Child Reader' 😊

Anyway, here is the fic and i hope you enjoy it, i am looking for suggestions on where the fic should head as i'm running out of ideas on what to do with it but i don't want to give up on it so if anyone had any idea what to do with the story or a plot idea, let me know either in the comments or in the comments on the latest part

Also if your are intrested on one-shot fanfic, i have that as well

It's includes Bush Medicine, Helmet Party, Flash Fire and some All merc stories 😋

[askthetcccdj]

Before You Interact

SUBMISSION STATUS

Ask box: Open

Submissions: Open

DMs: Open

Answers: Currently being drawn, next post after halowem is over

Next Fanmail Friday is: When I have enough

BLOG INFO AND RULES

Do not bring politics or arguments into my posts.

This blog will contain occasional crass behaviour. If you're not into that, you're not the target audience

Do not send hate or death threats

I will not tolerate bisexual or bi-umbrella erasure on this blog

I already have a "humanoid" concept in the works for the DJ

Magic anons are welcome, but they might have some unexpected results. They will also be queued unless you explicitly ask to be combined with a currently running magic anon.

I, the blog owner, will only accept ship asks/requests that come from people who are over the age of 18. If you are 18 years old by calendar, please take some time to ease into being 18 before you submit a ship ask or request.

Submitted ship asks should be visibly adult examples of their species. All ship asks should include a character sheet (or a link to a character sheet) so that I can verify your character is an adult.

Small and/or petite adults are permissible ONLY if they possess visible adult features or have an established character sheet (or wiki page if it's a canon character of some media) indicating they are an adult (character info will function as an ID to the ballroom).

Keep in mind that my headcanons might not align with yours.

This is not an official depiction of the DJ!!! I am not Shoocharu!!! There will always be a bit of OOC discrepancy between the character creator's ideas and a fan-blog's ideas.

I, the blog owner, am Australian. While I may post at what would qualify as "night hours" for me on occasion, I do have active hours that are incompatible with half the world.

Not every Anon Character is going to be humanoid. This IS the Interplanetary Ballroom, after all. If I think a design warrants it, I'll tag with an appropriate warning. If you would like your anon to be guaranteed human or messed up lil guy, let me know. If you're fine with letting fate decide, enjoy the ride.

Ask Box Status: Open, Anon activated

CHARACTER INFO AND RULES

The DJ is not bound by human constraints of gender or sexuality and is perfectly comfortable in literally any form they ever have and ever will take on.

The DJ is just as likely to flirt with a man as he is with a woman, as he is with a nonbinary individual, as they are with an otherworldly creature that doesn't adhere to human dimorphism, as they are with a living chair.

The DJ does not care which pronouns are used, but is currently partial to he/him and they/them when speaking to species with a human concept of gender

The DJ does not identify by any human flags or labels

The DJ is a relatively flirty and intrusively hands-on when it comes to social interaction. Hugs are always welcome

The DJ does not have an exclusive shipping partner on this blog. He's all about creating a good experience for all.

The DJ is a pretty nice dude all things considered, but please don't get on their bad side. You probably don't want them to kerfullaxle your perplexpleen.

The DJ loves to shapeshift and dress up. Suggestions are always welcome.

TAGS AND STUFF (If a tag isn't linked, I haven't used it enough to warrant linking it)

Not An Ask: Posts not involving questions

tccc dj ask: Questions directed at and answered by the DJ

tccc void ask: Questions directed at and answered by the Void.

mun oc ask: Questions directed at and answered by named OCs belonging to the blog owner.

OOC Post: Posts where the blog owner is communicating for any reason unrelated to RP purposes.

Crossover: Posts involving the DJ or any dancehall regulars interacting with out-of-universe characters.

RP: Posts involving cross-blog interactions with other ask-blog characters.

BillDJBleck: Any posts specifically pertaining to crossovers involving Bill Cipher or Count Bleck.

Open Ask: Questions asked without anon

Anon ask: Questions asked by anons

Immersion Break: Posts where I have written down something important that's too long to be put in brackets.

FAQ

Post XYZ is missing ABC tag: If you think a post is missing a tag that you'd rather not see, please request it politely. I will ignore aggressive and disrespectful requests, since they didn't show the courtesy of being nice to me first.

How old are the characters?: Unless explicitly stated otherwise, everyone depicted is an adult.

How old is the blog owner?: Adult. I would highly prefer any ship-RP partners to also be adults.

Can I ship my characters with anyone on the blog?: Only if all parties (both characters and their players) are over the age of 18.

What should I do if I need to talk at length on something?: If you have OOC questions to ask of me, RP requests, or just want something clarified, DMs are open.

[watchoutforthefanfics]

achievement unlocked 🔓 (part seven) || Streamer AU! Reddie (IT)

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6

AVAILABLE ON AO3

Inspiration: this prompt + BIRDS OF A FEATHER by Billie Eilish

Summary: Richie liked to play video games, and by some stroke of luck, it became his job. Being primarily known as Trashmouth on stream, he found his own little group of streamer friends and they became intertwined: The Losers Club. It never did feel quite complete, though. Well, until, he got his very own backseat gamer in chat.

TWs: innuendos, self-depreciation, lots of talk of sex (it's Richie), The Quarry (the game) spoilers, cursing, and shameless flirting.

[[A/N: Felt single writing this shit, fair warning. Y'all heard of Uhaul lesbians ??? Well, get ready for this, my friends !!! Enjoy :))]]

"Hey motherfuckers," Richie grinned, clapping his hands, "-Sorry about the wait, but we are back into The Quarry today."

The chat was filled with lots of different emojis, mostly excitement. Richie took it as a good sign, grinning wide. Maybe a little too wide, it was probably the biggest he'd ever grinned on stream. To be fair, he'd had a very good few days. Great days even-

reddy.bevvy donated $10: earth to richie can you hear me

"Shit," he cursed, "-fuck, sorry. I zoned out."

toziers-trash: guys does anyone think he's like strangely happy

girlie-pops: ✨️ adhd tingz ✨️

elite._.gamer: the Quarry again ?

trashmouth-for-me: @/toziers-trash that's kind of fucked up to say

younganddumb: adhd king I feel so seen

dizknees: I'm feeling an absence of Eddie in this chili's tonight

wait_weight87: yooooo this game is so good

too.tough.to.cry: seen this game before so hype to see trashmouth ruin it

genuine._.disappointment: @/dizknees no 🍝 :(

trashy.tozier: @/toziers-trash @/trashmouth-for-me no no I see the vision

big.bill: good choice rich

"Thank you, Billy," Richie grinned, dramatically placing a hand on his heart, before adding, "-you should thank chat though, they suggested it."

There was a slew of 'you're welcome's in the chat, and Richie watched them go by. He waited a few seconds trying pick out some messages.

"'Are you gonna go the villain route?' Okay, so, I was. Burning flames, everyone dead, etcetera, etcetera, but-" Richie leveled a look at the camera, "-chat told me there were gays. And then, I met the gays. And killing Dylan would in essence be killing myself. So-"

trashy.tozier: no ur right u r so dylan coded

elite._.gamer: so a good run then ?

girlie-pops: dylan = richie

dizknees: secret nerd who is gay meet secret nerd who is also gay

babey_boy: but do u ship them 👀

girls.girl: personally I'm more into emma and abby

hog-inthebog: how do u feel about laura and max tho

toziers-trash: @/dizknees now kiss

the.losers.are.better: ryan is bi put respect on the name 😤

trashmouth-for-me: no u and dylan are carbon copies what

tozier_babeyyy: there's some jacob in u don't lie

thuh-quarry: my fav is abby

trashy.tozier: @/tozier.babeyyy no u r so right he's a healthy mix

"Is Ryan the other one? The quiet guy? I know Dylan because he's fucking obvious," Richie commented, before switching into a southern accent, "-And I can say that because I am a full-blooded homosexual-"

Honk, honk.

eddie.kaspbrak donated $10: what the fuck did you just call yourself ?

"Eds!" Richie chimed, as happy as he always was (or maybe just a lil more, he'd never tell), "-And I said, that I'm-"

mike.me.up donated $1: no need to repeat yourself rich

"Okay, okay," he laughed, pretending to bow slightly, "-the beep beeps have been respected."

toziers-trash: EDDIEEEE

trashmouth-for-me: 🍝🍝🍝

trashy.tozier: EDDIE 🍝🍝🍝

dizknees: the king has arrived 🍝

girlie-pops: 🍝🍝🍝

genuine._.disappointment: yes 🍝 :)

the.losers.are.better: @/dizknees is Richie not the king ?

reddy.bevvy: 🍝🍝🍝

dizknees: @/the.losers.are.better there can be two kings have you ever heard of gay people

trashy.tozier: BEVVVV ??

tilt_my_towers87: 🍝🍝🍝

trashmouth-for-me: reddy.bevvy eddie.kaspbrak collab when

babey_boy: 🍝🍝🍝

genuine._.disappointment: @/trashmouth-for-me Eddie stream reveal ???

the.losers.are.better: @/dizknees AHJZHASNJSJH

peanutbutter-butterpops: the quarry is elite

Richie laughed, eyes flashing over his chat (they seemed to be as into him as he was), "Spaghetti, you're stealing my stream."

eddie.kaspbrak donated $10: maybe it's because you're doing jackshit

Richie laughed even harder, before shaking it off, "Alright, motherfuckers, Eds says let's get a move on. So let's start this shit."

They went through the motions, they had just introduced the premise and most of the characters at this point (he had no fucking clue what was going on with Laura and Max), and Richie was completely on edge waiting for the twist. There was always some evil, or some shit.

"Are we playing Truth or fucking Dare right now?"

They were, in fact.

Richie laughed at the situation, before faltering.

"Wait," he spoke, suddenly, "-it's not subtextual gay shit, it's real gay shit? I can kiss Dylan?"

elite._.gamer: they're much better together anyway

trashy.tozier: oh my sweet summer child

thuh-quarry: him and ryan def trauma bond through this

trashmouth-for-me: queerbaited one too many times ✋️😔

babey_boy: the girl doesn't even look that into it tbh

reddy.bevvy: @/eddie.kaspbrak check ur dms

peanutbutter-butterpops: @/babey_boy that's because she isn't

toziers-trash: @/reddy.bevvy WHATTTT

tozier_babeyyy: WAITTTT BEV AND EDDIE COLLAB WHEN

too.tough.to.cry: gay gay gay gay

genuine._.disappointment: new loser reveal 👀

eddie.kaspbrak: @/reddy.bevvy 👍

dizknees: @/reddy.bevvy @/eddie.kaspbrak what the fuck ???

Richie smiled a little, trying to chase it down (he was so fucked about Eddie, he was done for), eyes settling back on the screen, and promptly kissing Dylan. Obviously.

"Why are straight people so messy?" He chimed after a moment, watching a character (Abby, he gathered) run off into the woods, "-Like I know she was trying to show Jacob they're through or whatever, but fuck, man. That's your best friend's guy."

And then it all pretty quickly went to shit.

Richie, although he tried to prepare for it, was not entirely ready for it. He spent the rest of the stream asking chat what was going on, and somehow, they all formed an allegiance not to spoil it. When he was literally asking for it, which was kinda fucked. But it's his fans, so what can he say?

"Fuck, guys," he spoke, frantic later in the game, "-fuck, it's Dylan guys! He got fucking bit, what the fuck do I do? How do I save him?"

His eyes flashed to chat.

"I have to cut off his fucking hand?!"

It was a good fucking stream, he knows that much. And he really enjoyed himself, and got his heart pumping in his chest (for more reasons than one, wink-wink). It was a surprisingly fun game, and a lot more fucking nerve-wracking when you actually gave a fuck about the characters. He should probably do that more often-

He was in the kitchen now, phone laid on the counter as he made him a sandwich (with whatever the fuck he had in his fridge). Fingers dusting over cabinets, he debated exactly what he wanted and if it even actually mattered. He just kind of wanted to eat-

Ding.

It was embarrassing how fast he ran over to pick up his phone.

reddy.bevvy ✔️ has added you to 'the losers club 2.0'

Richie frowned for a moment, clicking through, they already had a groupchat. It wasn't used all the time, they mostly just used discord, honestly but still. It existed.

trashmouth.tozier ✔️

bev ? what is this ?

reddy.bevvy ✔️

a new groupchat

trashmouth.tozier ✔️

we already have one ?

stan.the.man ✔️

Hate to say this but Richie's right.

trashmouth.tozier ✔️

wow staniel, right where it hurts 😔

reddy.bevvy ✔️

shut up and let me do something

mike.me.up ✔️

you guys are in troubleee

Before Richie could type out a response to that, right in the chat, a message popped up.

reddy.bevvy ✔️ added e.kaspbrak

Richie blinked once and then twice, something twisting in his stomach. He was excited but at the same time, he really fucking hoped Bev had talked to Eddie about this beforehand. Richie didn't want him to be shoved in situations that would make him uncomfortable-

reddy.bevvy ✔️

everyone meet Eddie !!!

benny.boy.official ✔️

hi eddie !!! hope you're doing okay

mike.me.up ✔️

hey Eddie !!

stan.the.man ✔️

Richie's Eddie?

Richie blinked at the message, and debated typing out a few different things. Like maybe 'I wish' or 'yeah, eds from my chat' or maybe he could just leave the groupchat in like total-

e.kaspbrak

Yes, I'm Richie's Eddie.

Richie grinned and felt his heart flip in his chest. My Eddie. It made something zing down his spine, and reminded him of that photo of Eddie smiling with the scrunched-up nose-

big.bill ✔️

I feel like I'm missing something

Who is Eddie?

Huh, did he never hear any of this? Did nobody tell him? Bill was super oblivious though, honestly, so he could've been told and not understood it for what it was.

stan.the.man ✔️

Have you really not heard anything?

Like at all?

big.bill ✔️

What, are you and Richie dating or something?

Is this like meeting the parents?

Richie again had a few things flutter through his mind, an assortment of answers. Some mortifying and some more acceptable. Some putting literally himself on the line, others a little insulting honestly-

e.kaspbrak

Not yet.

God, he had the instinct to just twirl like he was seven and trying to be a ballerina. Or maybe like he had a pretty, wispy skirt on and it would flow prettily in the wind as he spun. He really debated asking Bev for one, because that sounded fucking sick as hell. He could wear a little sunhat, and make his hair actually look good, maybe Eddie could help with that actually. He knew all that medical shit, right, so he should be able to-

mike.me.up ✔️

I think you killed him.

stan.the.man ✔️

No, he's still reading messages.

He's probably just taking in the fact that someone actively wants to date him.

big.bill ✔️

He does collectively date assholes.

Richie rolled his eyes, and typing with a breath.

trashmouth.tozier ✔️

okay enough of the let's bully Richie train guys

e kaspbrak

It's not bullying if it is factual, dipshit.

Richie laughed, tipping his head back a second. He felt a little like he couldn't stop smiling. Maybe ever.

stan.the.man ✔️

I like you, Eddie.

Maybe you'll finally knock some sense into Richie's big ass head.

trashmouth.tozier ✔️

I will leave this gc guys

e.kaspbrak

No, you won't.

Yeah, his mind chimed, as he smiled too big (or maybe just right), no I won't.

It was like a week later, and the whole groupchat thing was going really well. After confirming with Eddie that he had, in fact, wanted to be in it, everyone really seemed to meld together. Richie was pretty much floating on cloud nine, he loved his fucking friends and Eddie was getting along with them. That was like dream fucking scenario for him. So, yeah, life was pretty fucking great, actually.

Now though, Richie was just wandering around his apartment, fidgeting with figurines, bored as hell. Eddie was at work, or else he'd be bothering the fuck out of him. Poking and prodding unlike anyone else. He had no limits with Eds, mostly because he physically told him he liked him. He enjoyed his fucking presence. Which was a first for one Richie Tozier.

He was gonna milk the shit out of it.

He groaned, throwing himself back into one of his beanbag chairs (he almost ate shit actually, but no one was there to see it). He stared up at his ceiling for a few moments, just eyeing different patterns -he tried to trace a few things. Shapes and patterns and sometimes a face, and freckles, and a cheesy big ass smile-

God, he was so fucked. So gay, so very gay.

He likes you too, Richie reassured, he told you that. And you believe him.

He pursed his lips for a second and blew out a raspberry. His hand was splayed along his chest, he tapped his fingers to an imaginary beat. Or maybe it was Brittney Spears, actually-

And then, he had a stray thought. Would he video chat? If I asked, would he say yes?

Richie thought about it for a second, letting the thought mull over in his mind. To be honest, he'd really only let Eddie choose the pace. And that was fine, it kinda felt right. Richie didn't want to overstep either, honestly, so it kinda worked out that way. Everything they do actually kinda fit, it was fucking really weird. And also very fucking awesome. He felt oddly in place, like he fucking belonged there.

Eddie was just... how could he even describe it? Well, obviously, his favorite person-

His phone rang with the same sort of melodic chime as last time, and Richie felt it vibrate against his chest.

Once again, it was very embarrassing how quickly he flipped his screen to himself.

e.kaspbrak is calling

Richie furrowed his eyebrows for just a second, before answering. Was he not at work? Did he leave early? Was everything okay?

He answered anyway.

The first thing he heard was rushed steps and the buzz of crowds. He even thought he heard some cars honking, it sounded like... well, it sounded like the streets of New York.

"Eds?" Richie questioned, concerned, "-Are you okay?"

It took a second, the cars still filling his ears. Richie nearly booked a flight right then, he was so fucking worried.

"Eds? Seriously, you're freaking me out-"

"I quit my fucking job," Eddie snapped out, big huffs of breath.

Richie paused, taking that information in, "What?"

"It was that same fucking coworker," he continued, ranting, "-she wouldn't fucking leave me alone, so I told her I was talking to someone-"

Richie's brain flatlined for a second. Right.

"-and she threw a customer's order on me! Burning hot fucking coffee, and then, my manager fucking got onto me-"

"Eds, breathe-"

"-And I just have had enough of this shit, I hate New York, I hate my job-"

"Eds-"

"-and I just fucking quit. I quit, Richie."

"Eds," Richie spoke, calmly, "-breathe."

He heard the crash of his breaths through the phone, he couldn't tell if it was frustration or panic. It was maybe both. No, definitely both.

"Fuck, Richie," Eddie said suddenly, much more frantic, "-I just quit-"

"Eds, seriously, calm down," Richie spoke louder, "-You're gonna be fine. You said you hated it anyway-"

"Richie," Eddie breathed out, "-I have to pay rent. I have to survive-"

He said it before he could stop himself, "Just come to California."

There was a breath, and Richie almost just hung up out of embarrassment. God, he really needed to get a hold of himself. Richie had to get control of that, seriously. It was such a fucking problem-

Eddie spoke, suddenly much more calm (mostly disbelief), "What?"

"What?" Richie repeated. Hoping whatever God above didn't hate him.

"What did you just say?"

"Me?" Richie asked, blankly.

"Fucking obviously you, dickweed," Eddie stressed, somewhat frustrated, "-What did you say?"

"I said," Richie cleared his throat, stating awkwardly, "-you can just come to California... If you, If you want to-"

Eddie interrupted, "Seriously?"

"I, uh," Richie swallowed, he didn't know what was wrong to say here, "-Yeah."

"Really?" Eddie asked in a tone he couldn't quite read. (Was this bad or good? He had no fucking clue.)

"Yeah, Eds," he spoke -carefully, "-I have an apartment, and I stream and stuff so... you don't have to worry about money. Until you get back on your feet, I mean. I don't... I can help after too but I didn't think... It's not that I won't pay for your living, but I just figured-"

"Richie," Eddie leveled, "-shut the fuck up."

Richie muttered out sheepishly, "Yeah, okay."

"Are you-" Eddie continued, "-Are you seriously offering? For me to come to California with you?"

"Well, Bev has an apartment too," Richie responded, deflecting, "-if that makes you uncomfortable, she probably has an extra bedroom actually-"

"If I'm going to go to California, I'm living with you, moron. Obviously."

Richie's brain flatlined again (his heart beating so fast he felt like it should shoot out of his chest like in those cartoons), and he thought for a second he might just die here, in a beanbag chair. Surrounded by his shit, and on the phone with Eddie. That might actually be a pretty good way to die. Fucking focus, Richie. You have to respond-

"Okay," he replied, blankly (awkwardly even).

"So?" Eddie pushed.

"So what?"

"God, are you even fucking listening to me?" He asked, but Richie could tell it was rhetorical, "-Are you seriously offering me to come to California?"

"Yeah, of course, Eds," Richie chimed, instinctively.

The phone was silent for a few seconds, and Richie swore he could physically hear his heart beating. Pounding actually, like he'd just run a mile. Maybe 10. It made him wonder if Eddie could hear it. The whole situation settled on his shoulders.

You haven't even videochatted, and you offer him to live with you? God, you are so fucking stupid-

"Three months," Eddie suddenly spoke.

Richie pursed his lips for a second, confused, "What?"

"I've got three months left of like... rent that I paid," Eddie clarified.

"Oh-kay," Richie commented, "-and what exactly are you trying to say here, Eds?"

"I can leave," Eddie continued, "-after... after three months I can leave."

Richie's heart skipped a beat.

"Because I'm not wasting fucking money," Eddie added -abruptly, "-not even for you."

Richie choked out a laugh (and decidedly ignored that last part). Eddie did that a lot, actually, made Richie laugh. He kind of felt like Eddie was the funniest person on the planet sometimes. Though, he might be a little biased.

"I get it, Eds," Richie replied, still kind of laughing, before asking, "-What about food and shit? Do you need-"

"No," Eddie interrupted, speaking casually, "-I have like three emergency funds."

"You have three emergency funds?" Richie asked in disbelief, "-Why were you even fucking stressed Spaghetti?"

"Well," he seemed to pause a second, almost a little embarrassed, "-I also kind of fucking hated my life, that was also part of the problem."

And you won't hate it here? Richie's mind dinged, and his heart fluttered in his chest, Because of me?

"Wow, Spagheds, that stings-"

"Not you, fuckface," Eddie cut him off, near immediately, "-I don't hate the you part. Just... Just everything else."

Richie felt a little like the breath was stolen out of his lungs. How many times can you flatline before you're actually dead? Was there an experiment on that? Actually, that would kind of be fucked up, maybe there's a statistic he can look up-

"I'll come to California," Eddie spoke again, suddenly fully confident in his words, "-in three months, I'll come to California."

"To live with me?" Richie asked, maybe smiling just a little. (Okay, a lot.)

"Have you listened to a word I fucking said, dipshit?" Eddie asked, but Richie could tell he was smiling, "-Yes, obviously."

"Okay," Richie grinned, "-three months."

"Three months," Eddie confirmed -a little cheerily. It made Richie's head spin.

And then, Richie's mouth started moving again (without his permission, of course).

"Are we dating?"

Eddie snorted in response, and Richie felt a wave of heat smooth over his face. Right, his mouth fucking wins again-

"You are such a freak," Eddie spoke through laughter, "-You ask me to fucking move in with you, and then you ask if we're dating?"

"Well," Richie started, embarrassed beyond fucking belief, "-I just say stupid shit and then... and then ya know-"

"Richie," he interrupted, voice suddenly serious (in a calming sort of way actually), "-stop. You're doing that thing where you assume shit again."

Richie's lips snapped shut.

"We talk like every fucking day, we flirt like every fucking day-" Eddie continued, "-It's just very obvious, dipshit."

"Yeah, but you just said we were talking-"

"Because I wasn't sure if it was like... right," Eddie clarified, suddenly flustered (it made Richie grin so big he wanted to explode) "-Like if you... You know."

"I know what?" Richie asked -innocently.

"Oh, fuck you, trashmouth," Eddie puffed out, and Richie almost felt fucking giddy. He probably looked so fucking cute right now.

"I'm just asking a question, Spaghetti," Richie leveled back, but this time he couldn't hide the smile in his voice.

"You're such a dick."

Eddie was laughing then, just a little. He was trying to hide it, but it made Richie burst into laughter -full-blown, full-body laughter. He heard Eddie pipe up on the other side of the line, through laughs of his own.

"Don't fucking laugh at me, fuckwad," he seemed to try to convey seriousness.

Richie responded, "I can't help it, you're just too fucking cute, Eds-"

Eddie replied, instantly (laughs sneaking through the words), "You are clinically insane."

They laughed like that for a while, any time it died down the other one would just start laughing harder. It was like a domino effect. Richie was pretty sure he'd never laughed so hard in his life, actually. And he had some fucking funny friends, so that was saying something.

When it actually started to die down, the comfortable silence wasn't scary to Richie for once. Didn't mean he didn't want to fill it though.

"Eds?"

He got a low hum in response.

And Richie hesitated only for a second, words and thoughts skimming through his head. There was nerves there, but they were hard to focus on, not with everything else. He felt better than at peace then, his mind was still going but with nicer things now. Better things. Happy.

He spoke, as natural as breathing, "Date me, Eddie Kaspbrak?"

Eddie paused, only for a second.

"I'll date the shit out of you, Richie Tozier."

[babyitsbeautiful]

I gotta stop doing these life updates and just get on with it, but nevertheless...

Where do I even start?

I know I promised I would get back to 'crash through the surface' and I swear I will, I feel my creative muse has resurfaced but through a different fandom this time...

Twisters/Glen Powell/Tyler & Kate

I've seen this movie 3 times in the theater and once at a Drive-In but that was kind of a hot mess. Also, Glen Powell-- why, wtf, this man should be illegal in this movie. I live in TN but never got the whole cowboy thing until I saw him in this movie. (Men like that don't really exist here, btw)

I honestly have not loved another fictional couple this much since Gendrya. It's been a minute since I had an unhealthy obsession with something and I am living for it. It has got my love for reading fanfics back to the forefront of my mind again and I feel like I can finally pick back up where I left CTTS off just to get it and Gendrya finished for good. (Gendrya is still the main inspiration behind Beautiful Dangerous and the screenplay I am going to write, so they'll always be in my <3)

Anyway, a lot has been going on this year. A year ago around this time I found out about Lucy's cancer and I can't believe she's been gone for this long. Still miss her everyday. My brother is getting married in October and I'm serving as a bridesmaid, so that should make for a fun story.

But for the moment, I have A LOT going on in August including three out of state trips:

Poll Worker for tomorrow's Election

Nimesh Patel's show at Zanies

5 Days in Florida for my 32nd Birthday

Dermot Kennedy show at Blue Bird Cafe (tickets on sale Friday, wish me luck)

Train & REO Speedwagon Concert

Team Member for Creation Con Indianapolis, Indiana

Then an end of the month Bachelorette trip in Washington D.C.

In the in between days of all of these events, I plan to work on the next chapter of Crash Through The Surface and get that out sometime soon after finishing as well as work on some brewing fanfic ideas for Tyler & Kate in the growing Twisters fandom.

Seriously, go see this movie if you haven't yet.

I already have so many fics to start reading on Ao3 for Tyler and Kate, who needs a ship name BTW. Tate? Kyler? Wrangler Tamer?

Anyways, that's a little bit of where I am right now.

I'm trying to spend less time working on fan art and fics at work due to a new IT system that seems to know everything I download (pics for mood boards being the main) and it's honestly making me very self-conscious so after work is where I'll be letting my creative bitch reign supreme.

I have ideas for Twisters and an outline already for CTTS but any fresh ideas and suggestions are always welcome.

Twisters fandom, if you want a feel of what I love creating the most, search the #gendrya tag on my blog.

Love you all.

[tessenpai]

Chikawa Week Day 1: Flower

Reproduction of the Ranunculus Flower gifted to Amu-sensei by the KOT discord server for the Kono Oto Tomare! 10th anniversary.

I've spent a great deal of time thinking about what to do for Chikawa Week. I don't think my fanart is all that good and it takes me a chunk of time to make, and I can't write fanfics to save my life. Then it dawned on me that I don't have to do anything new at all. I just need to stick to my strengths. As it happens, I enjoy writing "essays". So for Chikawa Week, I will write one essay based on the prompt for the day!

The prompt for Day 1 is "Flower" and I couldn't think of anything better to get started. When you mention "Flower" when talking about "Kono Oto Tomare!", one cannot but think about the beautiful pink ranunculus Chika gifted to Satowa on the day of the Revitalization Concert.

In this essay, I would like to delve deeper into the symbolism and importance this flower has in Chika and Satowa's relationship.

For me, it all starts with Isaki, funnily enough. That week, Satowa had invited him to assist to the Revitalization Concert that would welcome her back into the Hozuki Clan. Chika, of course, was thrilled to go, but I'm afraid he was not aware of the etiquette involved in these kinds of events. Not too surprising, he is just a teenager, and it's not like he has ever had to go to an event where a certain dress code is needed. It's his first time, we have to cut him some slack!!

Thankfully, Isaki is there to help him out. We love an Aunt who knows her nephew has a big fat crush on the Hozuki Lady, and is willing to captain the Chikawa Ship for the day.

She first tells him he should dress adequately, and that under no circumstances should he present himself to her house empty-handed. Of course, Chika asks her what should he buy, then. And she suggests flowers. I find it endearing that Isaki is trying to educate Chika on chivalry, and in how a lady should be treated. Specially when you are someone important to her. And of course, she is being sneaky because we all know what a man gifting a woman his age (and not related to him) flowers means.

As awkward as Chika can be, he knows his Aunt speaks the truth, and he should trust her. That's why without more complaint, he stops by a flower shop before heading to the Hozuki Household.

At the flower shop, the Helmsman (or Helmswoman as it happens) of the Chikawa Ship for the day is waiting for him. The florist sees a doubtful teenager intensely looking at the flowers, and she understands she has an assignment to ace. And wow does she ace it.

I can only imagine that, in the beginning, Chika intended to buy flowers as a sort of "assignment". His aunt told him they were necessary and it was not like he was going to question that judgment, but he thought it was just a matter of picking whatever he first saw that looked okay, buying it, and going his merry way. And they are just flowers. They grow all over the place, how expensive can they be, right?

When he sees all the types of flowers and arrangements? Well, things just get complicated. Because what flowers should he buy then? Also, he is broke. Our helmswoman won't let that be an impediment, though. No, sir! She gently asks if he is searching for something, and Chika awkwardly replies "A bouquet". Worth noting, he stumbles over the word "bouquet", and it's so cute because you just know that's a word he hasn't used much, if at all, and he is already making an effort to get out of his comfort zone.

Now, the budget. As I said, Chika is broke. He is SO broke, he can't even buy a mini-bouquet. He has a measly 254 yens (equivalent to 1,70 USD) to his name.

This will never NOT be funny.

Chika's financial situation won't deter our Helmswoman. She will see this through!

She offers him the option of buying a single flower. One with his thoughts and emotions on it. And unknowingly, at that moment, she turns what was an "assignment", into so much more. Because Chika immediately relates it to "Treasuring each sound".

He understands that one single flower might just hold the power to tell Satowa what he thinks and feels on her Special Day. And is not something that he should think about superficially.

However, there is challenge in transmiting his thoughts and emotions with one single flower. Very similar to "Treasuring each sound". But also, different. He is not versed in the "Flower Language". He finds it easier to communicate with music than with words! Not to worry, our Helmswoman is there to stir him in the right direction.

She asks him "What sort of girl is she, this girl who isn't your girlfriend". That is not an easy question to answer. It demands honesty and vulnerability. If you really want to give her the perfect flower, you have to be transparent, you can't gloss over things or tell half truths. You only have one chance to get your message across.

For the first time, Chika puts into words how he sees her. She is powerful and strong, yet sometimes surprisingly weak. The store clerk is sort of confused by the contradiction, yet it makes perfect sense. And it is a testament to their relationship. When he first met her, she put up a front, acting strong, refusing to ask for help and struggling to open herself to him and the koto club. But behind that mask, was fear. Fear of being left behind, of her sound harming others. When the clerk asks "Which is it?", he replies "Mostly strong, definitely". To him, who has seen her face her fears, and come up the victor, she is more powerful and dazzling than when she was trying to act like she was strong. A woman who shines her brigthest when she performs. "When she performs, she is amazingly cool". And then he adds "Always very awkward".

That is what knowing someone really is like. They have so many colors and shades to them, that is so very difficult to make a uniform statement about who they are. They can be strong yet weak, cool yet awkward. Chika doesn't only like Satowa's brightest colors, he finds all of her shades and tones charming and worth noting. He also sneaks in her "Huge chest". He couldn't let us forget he is just a growing boy, with blood in his veins.

"Is she cute? Or beautiful?", asks our invested florist. Chika falls silent, ruminating over the question. But how could he possibly choose one? How could he simply pick one of her tones? Satowa is "Both", he replies quietly. And our Helmswoman understands in that moment that this flower is not only meant to be given to a performer, or some kind of unreachable idol, but to the girl this boy loves, wether he knows it or not. The girl he finds most charming, admirable, but also wishes to protect.

Gifting a ranunculus, in the language of flowers, means "I find you dazzingly charming". Then you add the meaning of the color. Pink signifies love, romance, and gentle feelings. I highly doubt she told him that, though. I imagine she simply prepared the most beautiful pink ranunculus she could find, and gave it to him with a smile, knowing she had found the perfect flower, for the girl who is perfect for that boy.

And we know Satowa received the feelings and emotions that Chika's gift carried. Because even if she received countless bouquetes that day, there was one single single flower that wasn't given to her out of obligation, one single flower that was given to her with honest feelings of happiness for her returning to her family... One single flower that was meant for her, given by a boy who loves every shade and color that makes her who she is.

And so, Satowa framed the flower and hung it in the lobby. Because before going out to face a new day, she will have the reminder that there is a boy who admires her and wants her to do well. And when she comes home, there will be comfort waiting for her.

Without knowing it, Chika gave her "home" within one flower.

[jessidogg]

WELCOME TO MY BLOG

My name is Jessi and I'm here to spread the LOVEEE😘🥳 WOOO!!

I have been a humongous fan of trolls since 2016 (except for the two month break that I took when I was a HUGE HTTYD fan- don't ask) and I mostly just post little silly trolls scenarios!

Here are the things that I can do:

Answer Questions- I love to answer questions about Trolls and other movies I love to watch, so don't be shy to ask my opinions!

Blab about Branch for about a bajillion hours- he's my favorite character OF ALL TIME and I was so happy when TBT was centered around him 😭🥹

Write fanfictions, though I would prefer to do that on my new blog, @jessi4fanfics (i just made it about ten seconds ago, so there's nothing there yet, lol)

I will take suggestions on stuff, and if you beg me to show you my handmade drawings of Human Broppy AU, I MIGHT show you, but it's not digital or anything, and I'm more of a writer than artist, so maybe that's not something you should do 😘🤣

WRITE ANYTHING BROPPY OR BROZONE I LOVE THEM SO MUCH EEEEE I am also a huge Cliva fan too, so if y'all come up with any ideas, I'm here to share them with

MESSAGING Y'ALL IS TOTALLY SOMETHING I'D LOVE TO DO, so if you wanna ask me something personal, for a suggestion, or just wanna say hi and blab about DreamWorks and Disney, I'm here to do so, as long as you don't talk inappropriately or anything.

Don't worry, ofc I'll think of more stuff as soon as I publish this lol. :D

Here are the things I CANNOT do:

I am a Christian, so if you ask me to write anything that is against what I believe, I will kindly tell you I cannot do that, but don't worry I won't bite ur head off or anything XD, I'm def not that kind of person.

I am absolutely not writing any LGBTQ+ content. I am not homophobic or transphobic and I know majority of people support all of it, but I do want to respect the small bit of people who don't, so I am not writing so I can respect what others say and think. ♥️♥️♥️

I won't talk about war or any of that kind of stuff also for the reasons of people having different opinions. I don't want to ruin friendships with anyone, and I hate it when that happens just because you don't agree on something. For both this and LGBTQ I also want younger viewers to be able to read my stuff, and sometimes when it comes to that stuff, they may be exposed to stuff they shouldn't be at a young age.

I am not writing anything too mature or inappropriate for younger readers- that includes smut, swearing, and make outs (tho I do write butt jokes WAHAHA U CAN'T STOP ME FROM DOING THAT)

I am not AT ALL putting ANY hate on anyone. I believe that everyone should be who they truly are without shame, and that our main goal as people should be to spread love. Which is why I LOVE ALL OF YOU!!

I LOVE these movies and shows TONS

Trolls Band Together (and the whole series duhhh)

Rio and Rio 2

Boss Baby & Boss Baby Family Business

Mickey Mouse Shorts

The Looney Toones Show

Lab Rats

The Lego Batman Movie

Bunk'd

Geek Charming

& More!!!

These are my (main) ships!

Branch x Poppy

Clay x Viva

Blu x Jewel

Mickey x Minnie (duh)

Bugs x Lola

Daffy x Tina

& Obviously SO MUCH MORE

I am a very silly person, HUGE BROZONIE, and I love to joke around! My account on Wattpad is JessiDelanett if you want to read my books/follow me!

I don't have YouTube- YET. Working on it 😜

I love all people, even those who may not like me. That doesn't matter to me, I will only just love you more.

HEARTS AND BLESSINGS. ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

[euoniatz]

welcome <3

heyheyhey! how nice of you to stop by~ this is going to serve as my (temporary) introduction post + requests page until i get more organized and get a carrd instead. enjoy!

general information about me:

any pronouns

i go by "nia" (from my user) or "belle" (real name) on here

writer + occasional artist

i love the ocean and space

socials:

ao3

requests

i don't even know if i should even call it "requests" or just "give me an excuse to indulge in my favorite characters" but...

what am i offering?

snippets and drabbles

prompt lists!

just general thoughts about ships/characters/the media itself

and (if i'm feeling REALLY inspired) smaller fics that might go on my ao3 at some point

what am i not offering?

nsfw and 18+ writing

underage

incest

i'm spread across countless fandoms and hyperfixations at this point, and will honestly write for most of them. but below is a list of fandoms + characters i'm extra willing to write for;

(if you'd like to request prompt lists and other non-fandom specific things you can just ignore this!)

netflix (tv shows and films):

code 8

sense8

the umbrella academy

the old guard

the bastard son and the devil himself

the 100

young royals

other series:

supernatural (though i prefer to write for sam specifically)

merlin

thunderbirds are go

video games:

red dead redemption 2

cyberpunk 2077

cod mw2

cod ghosts (logan <33)

resident evil 2

dying light 2

the quarry

^i'll probably add more in the future but at least now you have a general idea ;)

genres & tags:

hurt/comfort

angst

fluff

romance/otp + ot+ things

au's

crossovers

^again, i could put so much more than this and i probably will, if you have other suggestions/requests don't be afraid to ask anyway since there's a good chance that i'll do it even if it's not listed here <3

[jammingsweetjams]

> "HIHII!!! HELLOOO!! Look, a new buddy!!"

Ay! Hi there, mod speaking, and I would like to welcome you to an RP blog all around my 2 Dandy's World OCs, JamJam and Bowie. PFP drawn by me!

This will mostly be JamJam, BUT you're always able to get Bowie in some asks, if you'd like :))

MOD NOTE!! Bowie and JamJam are both adults (like any other toon) and they are not in a relationship, but should you ship them? WHY NOT!! I don't really care. They're not related, ethier

And for OOC? Don't worry, it'll be tagged accordingly, you'll know.

< "Oh, there's new ones now? Good to know.. Just be careful."

Now ei, ei ei, IM ON VACATIO there are some RULES ya gotta follow! But don't worry, they're simple, like..

- Basic DNI, just don't b weird

- Joke asks are fine, but taking your asks seriously is super appreciated.

- Don't be RUUDE to any real person (like the mod or people interacting with the acc, let things be colourful rainbows here (/nsrs)

WHAT TYPE OF ASKS/OTHER STUFF I ENCOURAGE?

- Angst asks, I LIIIIIVE for the angst.

- Practically anything (but suggestive/weird, mods a minor ere)

- anons!! yeah!! magic anons, etc, you'll get your own taaag if you plan to show up more :3 you can also roleplay as toons or your own OCS, too, which is SUPER encouraged!

- just use your creativity, let us have some FUN!!

important mod note: I do NOT support the creators of Dandy's World. Please don't go around jumping me for anything related to it.

(almost every ask answered will have a neat doodle like this! maybe even a lil comic.)

ABOUT THE MOD AND TOONS DOWN BELOW!!

ABOUT THE MOD:

Hihi, hello, it's actually me, @jammysheadspace, however you found me, nice job! As you know, I am a minor, romanian, a furry etc etc. I hope you like Interacting with those two sillies, and i can even add your @ in this blog (if you rp as a toon or OC) as someone jamjam/bowie knows! All only if you wish to :))

Not much to put about myself here. Let's get onto the toons, then!!

ABOUT THE TOONS!!

JamJam:

JAMJAM is a jar of strawberry jam. She is SUPER friendly, no matter who you are, or what you act like!! She can even like someone like SHRIMPO.. Ahem, here's all about her!

As for Bowie! I don't have as much info on her as JamJam (aka intro card, ability etc etc) YET, so if I do make them, I'll just put em here, but have a lil ref!

She is also friendly, though on the more concerned and "shy" side. Very careful and ALWAYS is worrying for someone.

And she, ofcourse, is a Medkit.

She has a sister named Belle! Though that's someone else's OC who doesn't have Tumblr.. I'll link em here if i DO get that friendo to get this app.

Both Toons use She/Her! I don't think I'd mind you using It/It's for them (because toons)

TAGS, COORDINATE YOURSELF!!

#> " ASKS " - should be self explanatory.

#> " JAMJAM !! " - blog/posts that include JamJam in it.

# < " BOWIE !! " - blog/posts that include Bowie in it.

# < " REBLOGS!! " > - can be ooc or ic.

And sometimes, you may see tags based on a funky anon. That happens to anyone!

..I don't have any yet.. I'LL ADD EM HERE!!

THANKS FOR READING!!! now get to interacting, hehe!