#also while i was watching this i said to myself

[bruhstation]

hello tumbled er

greetings and salutation. it is I, senja heterocaine, speaking to you through your favorite home screens. now you might be wondering: where on earth has senja heterocaine disappeared to these past 5 months? well the answer is as simple as it gets

I focused on my studies.

well yes that is the main reason. but that's like the nerd "obvious" answer. there’s other reasons too. some of which includes me getting into new interests, revisiting my old, hibernating interests, getting involved in university organizations and events, getting more involved in big family stuff since I'm the oldest and the only of-age grandchild of grandma from mom's side.... lots of stuff

so I just finished the third semester of premed school right. honestly speaking, with how I was losing motivation on drawing, the art block post-art fight, and lack of time, I decided to well, take a break. and it’s pretty convenient too since it was early on in the third semester. during the entirety of it I was feeling pretty proud of myself like "oh I've been studying a lot. I've taken a break from drawing and blog stuff. surely things will get better" and it did! not immensely but it's significant enough that for once I don't feel an indescribable sense of terror after the semester ends. the focus of this semester was about reproduction systems and growth and development which is pretty fun? we get to use models and medical phantoms hands-on and poke them with needles and other rube goldberg contraptions. I did miss breeding bacterias in petri dishes and seeing my friends burn the microbiology lab’s ceiling like last semester though. my grades are also improving… slowly but surely

(aftermath not pictured: me lounging on the couch scrolling through quora to see if there are people currently in college wanting to drop out)

maybe I was aiming too high. at least my grades are better than the previous two semesters and my social life is much better than it was back in high school. speaking of exams -- I went through my first osce exam around a week ago (practical exam to see if you can actually perform the skills labs lessons from the entire semester like you're a real physician). it was the most terrifying day of the month. my dentist said I have a big tongue and that’s why I can’t speak properly if I’m being too fast. ntm I WAS NERVOUS!!! MY FIRST OSCE!!! with how I memorized everything I needed, I was pretty confident that I'd pass, though. I didn't and retook the exam the next day. the prelude was the worst crash out ever

ah ptooey. I'll just take it like a champ. my tutor who's 3 years older than me and currently in the anesthetic rotation of co-ass told me that things will get easier but that's very subjective. he's a medical olympiad student after all. my parents are pretty happy though with how my academic life is becoming better so that's that

LETS MOVE ON TO SOMETHING LIGHTER. section B: what I've been getting into ever since bruhstation was put on cryostasis

you know Transformers One (2024)? the transformers movie directed by josh cooley? based on the Transformers(tm) franchise by Takara Tomy and Hasbro? most tragic break up movie of the decade? I watched it twice, squealed once, and left me broken and inconsolable for weeks on end. it made me revisit my dormant transformers interest after 5 years. I've reread the idw comics (mtmte, LL, taao, main transformers comic), and is currently checking out more (reading the wreckers saga right now). god it made me miss rodimus and friends' zany space opera adventures. I've always envisioned casa tidmouth to have the same tone as mtmte... the oftentimes dark humor, fridge horror stuff, weird magic/science, the roller coaster of emotions, confronting the past... its crazy good.

stories where misfits and knuckleheads band together in a confined space while having crazy doctor who-like adventures am I right. like I want casa tidmouth to be like that. remind me to thank 14 year old me for this trip down memory lane. and as usual, I tend to make self-indulgent crossovers of any interest I'm thinking about at the moment with casa tidmouth

a terrifying sneak peak on what's to come.

I've been working on my oc projects too. you may have seen some of them on artfight (graciela, saudade, altair, etc) but I've been focusing the most on graciela and saudade's universe, children's heterotopia. it has the largest amount of characters in any story I've created (not counting casa tidmouth), the most effort put into planning the stories and weaving in its themes about capitalism, patriarchy, period-typical bigotry, etc. there's human experimentation and they're given powers that range from punching super hard to time and space displacement. I also inserted whatever I wanted into the story. sure, yes, there's a lesbians-only organization of which its members are named off the knights of the round table, theres a mafia that focuses more on the family drama and attempted parricide from all angles, and tragic assassin maids of which their names are wuthering heights references. also if you've been following my main tumblr hajimedics for a while, you might've seen my three fairly oddparents ocs. well I've given them the tezuka star system treatment and inserted them into children's heterotopia as well.

I've also gotten into UTAU production! I've made a number of UTAU covers but haven't uploaded them to youtube. only shared them around with my friends on priv twitter. a good friend of mine assisted in the creation of my own UTAU voicebank! their name is TORKA (like "torque"), their voice bank has a slight accent when singing in japanese (because I'm their voice lol) and CV-only, their in-universe lore is that they're an intergalactic train conductor picking up wayfarers and outcasts trying to find a place in the vast universe, and I love them dearly

moving on! this is a thomas the engine and company blog THIS IS A LIFE UPDATE POST

I'd rather not discuss about how I'm doing mentally in deep detail BUT what I'll say is that I can't confidently say "I'm doing better" or "I'm doing worse" because it always depends on the days. things are okay-ish nowadays. some days are scary. some days are boring. I still experience delusions, (ironically) worried about my anhedonia, and believe that certain bouts of confidence will trigger a jinx, but I think I've been controlling myself well? at least? I keep internalizing the belief that I'm an adult. 20 years old. I have to act accordingly and my life in real life is ten times more important than the internet. things are going to change more and more once I graduate premed and began the co-ass program. I have to think 10 steps into the future. building successful connections before you turn 30. sigma grindset and all that. sorry that was my father using my body as a spirit medium

AND ALSO. ALSO. BACK TO THE BLOG DO YOU GUYS REMEMBER THAT ONE TIME I PROMISED TO MAKE A COMIC BASED ON THE RESULTS OF THE 1000 FOLLOWERS POLL AND NEVER DID UNTIL NOW. I'm terribly sorry. I promise I will get into it I SWEAR procrastination is kicking my ass. I have to plan the dialogue and script and stuff AND DRAW BUT

BUT HERE’S THE FUNNY THING

THE BLOG REACHED 2000+ FOLLOWERS A FEW MONTHS AGO

NOW WHAT DO I DO TO CELEBRATE?

I don’t know honestly. I haven’t done the 1000+ followers celebratory comic, and NOW I HAVE 2000+ FOLLOWERS. THERES 2000+ OF YOU NOW!!!!! THAT’S CRAZY (IN A GOOD WAY)!!!! I thank you all for sticking with bruhstation through thick and thin for around 2 and a half years. I’m glad for all your support, fanarts, asks, and such truly. like wow. 2k. in such a short time too! thanks guys. admittedly, I feel kind of guilty to leave everyone hanging for months with nothing to give, especially with such a high follower number. and realistically? I don’t think I’ll be able to draw as much as I used to. like I’ve said earlier, I’ve been busy with my personal life and oc projects. it’s not like I’m abandoning this blog any time soon? I’m just speaking from a logical perspective, given my status as a student and (possibly, hopefully) future doctor too. I don't want to burn myself out posting like thrice a week, answering asks daily, I want to take things slow. at my own pace. maybe I'll focus on designing side characters as well and thinking about their roles in the story! but that's for another day. I’m just glad everyone’s still sticking around and enjoying my silly stuff

I do want to draw more for this blog! I want to put thomas and co. in more situations. make them dance for all our entertainments. but when you’re an adult, you realize that you have your own priorities. you can’t always do the things you wanna do. you can’t just drop something you don’t like out of the blue. sometimes you have to sigh, scratch the back of your neck, and brave it while saying “I sure am getting old”

oh and also I'm a butch lesbian now. still he/they (heavy preference on he/him), still preferring masculine terms like "mr", "sir", "guy", still as crazy as ever. still aroace too and not interested in dating, something that's been a constant in my identity ever since I'm in early high school. little have changed I can assure you this. I am still senja. senja heterocaine from the net.

and thus concludes senja’s life update post! what will the next post after this be about? something gordon-centric again? serious colored art? old men yaoi? silent hill UK localization? place your bets. everyone loves a good laugh

[starlightsuffered]

My Girl

A/N - wrote this bc I’m cold and I miss the sun also I had a dream about it

Info - fingering, friends to lovers, pda, a little sex, getting caught in heavy make out, tasting pussy juice, finger sucking

I popped a cherry into my mouth and noted how Timothée looked at my lips. The air was thick, though humidity was low. My ponytail brushed my shoulder as I turned to grab another piece of fruit.

I felt a tentative hand on my bare ankle. I pretended I didn’t notice. His thumb moved slowly over my skin.

Since winter, things had been very different. Timothée and I had been friends forever, but in December he’d become single again. On new years, he’d decided that we would kiss to usher it in. At that moment, everything had changed.

His moustache was gone, and his hair was now fluffy and tousled like it used to be. He’d been home spending time with his niece for a while. He hadn’t taken a new project for a while and I wished desperately that even a little of it was for me.

We’d reconnected in a heavy way. We spent days and nights together. He seemed to always be inviting me over. We shared bottles of wine and late night confessions. The alcohol always had us falling over each other with giggles. Then we’d take a moment and stare into the others eyes. Our friendship wore thin as one of us would inevitably push a lock of their out of the others face.

That was how we had lived for months. We’d walked that edge of the precipice so many times. I wondered if we were both waiting on the other to make the final move. I wondered if he’d find me less desirable if I broke first. I wondered what was taking so damn long.

“Would you rather,” he mused, picking up the game again.

We were having a picnic in the park. I wore a new sundress that he had barely removed his eyes from the entire afternoon. He was in jeans and over sized t-shirt. The sun had finally begun to warm New York City and he’d eagerly called me, begging for a picnic lunch in the fresh air.

“Kiss someone, or hug someone?”

“It depends,” I said, tilting my head to the side.

“Oh?” He asked as his fingers drummed on my leg. I wanted to pounce on him.

“Hugs are almost always good, kisses are only good with some people,” I shrugged. I threw a blackberry in my mouth now.

“Yeah?” He asked.

“What makes someone the right person?” Timothée asked in a dangerous voice. I gulped and looked up to meet his gaze.

“Someone who is kind, sexy, matches your energy, knows you well, cares for you the correct way…” I trailed off. I felt a burning between my legs even though this was just a conversation about kissing. He always launched me into neediness so easily.

“And am I-“ he sucked in a deep breath. If he was breathing harder, I wasn’t breathing at all. He was preparing, I could tell. He was closer to that precipice than he’d ever been. He was going to jump.

“Am I the right sort of person?” He whispered.

I leaned back on my elbows. Ever so slightly, I spread my legs. His grip became tighter on my ankle. His eyes darkened and he watched me as if I were stripping instead of leaning back casually.

“Yes,” was all I breathed.

He lurched forward, a desperate hunger in his eyes. My back hit our fuzzy blanket. His mouth was glued to mine. His large hands held my face. I was hot all over as our tongues danced together. I couldn’t have cared less who would see us.

His hand moved to my thigh and went up, lifting up my dress. I gasped into his mouth.

“I love you, fuck I love you, I’ve wanted this so long,” he heaved, he was panting as he grabbed at every bit of my skin. My leg wrapped around him. I pressed myself into the feeling of him, memorising it.

“I want you, I need you,” I repeated myself over and over. He mouthed over my neck. His long fingers crawled to my pink panties.

“Shit!” He sucked in a breath when he felt my wetness.

“You’re perfect, I can’t breathe, I don’t want to,” he told me. I was keening and arching as his deft fingers plunged into me. He curled them in my wet heat.

“You’re so pretty in this dress. I can’t keep my eyes off you,” he whispered, kissing the hot skin of my clavicle.

I loved how he worshipped and praised me, as if he hadn’t been around a million celebrities. He could see me as less or not be interested at all. Yet, he touched me like one would touch a deity. I was in heaven.

“Mmmmm,” Timothée moaned as he lifted his digits to his mouth. His fingers were so slick. I watched him mesmerized by the beauty.

“Baby, you’ve got to taste yourself. Come on pretty girl, it’s ambrosia,” he coaxed. He looked love sick and hazy. He smiled dreamily as his finger were sucked by my needy mouth.

“Atta girl,” he whispered. He was kissing me again now. My bottom half was almost completely bare. The grass was on my ass and my dress was hitched up around my waist. Timothée’s hands dipped into the cups of my bra. He massaged as he kissed me and kissed me and kissed me.

“What are you two doing,” asked a harsh voice. A park ranger took in our heady gazes and the tent in Timmy’s pants, and the way I was scantily clad.

“Get up!” He snapped gruffly.

Timothée had Trouble moving from his hard on. He was pulling me along desperately. He’d left behind the blanket, the lunch, all in an effort to get to his car.

He whips open the door and pulls me on top of him in almost one movement. Out kisses are sloppy and hot. His hands are up my dress again. I could hardly catch a breath.

“Fuck me, there will be pictures everywhere,” he said, but he didn’t sound like he actually cared that much.

“Fuck that,” I giggled as I nipped at his lip.

“Fuck me,” he moaned, a request.

“Absolutely,” I agreed. I pushed my panties to the side and he pulled out his cock. I sunk down and settled into the place I was meant to be.

“My girl,” he groaned as I began to bounce and he began to thrust.

“My girl forever.”

@pmak2002 @softhecreator @plutoispurplw @sp1deyyf4ngz @seungcheol17daddy @jesschalamet @vvsdreaming @lovelyrocker

[psychoticallykind]

Jegumas Day Twenty - Baking

563 words

@noblehouseofgay

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

He’d added too many chocolate chips.

Too many chocolate chips, and now everything was off, and he’d messed up the measurements again -

“Breathe,” Regulus reminded him. “James. It’s okay. It doesn’t have to be perfect.”

“But I -”

“Did nothing wrong,” Regulus finished for him. He pulled him away from the counter, gently pushing him into one of the kitchen chairs. Then he stood in front of him, between his knees, and put his hands on James’s shoulders. “You’re stressing this way too much. It’s just cookies.”

“It’s not just the cookies,” James denied. “It’s everything. I’m messing up everything - I made the wrong cake and had to start over, I got the wrong kind of milk and we had to go back to the store, and now there are too many chocolate chips and the cookies are going to be ruined.”

Regulus rubbed at his shoulders. “Jamie. You aren’t ruining anything. I promise.” He tipped James’s chin up, carefully wiping away tears that James hadn’t realized were falling. “You made an extra cake and it looks amazing. The milk wasn’t a big deal, and it wasn’t all your fault. We went shopping together, remember? And we can make as many cookies as we need to. These can be extra-chocolate, Remus will be thrilled. And then we can make a normal batch. Everything is okay. Nothing’s ruined.”

James nodded, trying to believe it. “Right.”

“Baking is not supposed to be stressful,” Regulus told him. “It’s supposed to be fun. Right? That’s what you told me.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “It is. I’m having fun.”

“You’re in tears, actually.”

“Well, those are - they don’t matter,” James protested. “I’m having fun.”

Regulus gave him a look. “Are you?”

James made a face, crinkling up his nose. “They could be happy tears.”

“They could be,” Regulus said agreeably. “Or they could be ‘I’ve convinced myself that I have to give everyone the perfect Christmas and now I’m extraordinarily stressed out’ tears.”

James laughed. “Or that.”

“Or that,” Regulus agreed. He met James’s eyes, light blue against hazel. “It doesn’t have to be perfect.” He leaned forward, voice lower like he was telling a secret. “You don’t have to be perfect. Remember?”

James closed his eyes, leaning forward to rest his head on Regulus’s chest. “Ugh.”

“Yeah, I know.” Regulus massaged gently at his scalp. “Do you want to take a break? We can watch a movie.”

James shook his head, still hidden from sight. “I have to finish the cookies.”

“I’ll put them on the pan, you set the timer and pick a movie. No more baking tonight.”

He sort of wanted to argue. He’d be off schedule if he didn’t finish the baking tonight.

But he also still felt like crying over chocolate chips, so maybe this was a good call. “Okay.”

Regulus pulled him back, searching his expression. “Okay?”

James nodded, turning his head to press a kiss to the inside of Regulus’s wrist. “Thank you.”

“Always.” Regulus leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to his nose, and his forehead, and then - briefly - his lips.

James was smiling by the time he set the timer. And then - after Regulus ushered him out of the kitchen - he went to pick a movie.

It was okay. Nothing had to be perfect.

He could forget about baking for a little while.

[spectral-phases]

A non-comprehensive guide to my cooking headcanons for the Batfam

I'll add comic panels to support myself when I feel like I'm going very much against the grain of fanon and have to defend my position a little.

Alfred: Master of the craft, learned to cook from French chefs and has been a professional chef as a cover while serving as a spy. He can make you croissants and puff pastry from scratch, but the waffle iron (every waffle iron, yes even that brand new fancy one that is supposed to be so easy to use) was designed in hell to torment him specifically. This may be because even God himself is jealous of Alfred's ability to master a recipe after only reading it once (never refers to it again while working), or watching the video once and so he was given an Achilles heal by the divine. He has a cookbook and personal recipes written down, but very rarely looks at them. He is not the best teacher, and he did not care for children or anyone else in the kitchen, but Martha Wayne was not having any of that, especially for Jewish holidays, and to date, the way he handles kids in the kitchen is his best approximation of how Martha taught Bruce how to cook, but he lacks the requisite patience because he learned how to cook from French chefs (Gordon Ramsey without the soft kids mode, but he's never screaming or yelling or cussing people out because he's refined).

He is allowed to cook in the kitchen by himself

The kitchen is his domain and he maintains the right to supervise as needed, with some exceptions

Select people can assist him, but he prefers to do the cooking by himself as its the only thing he adds to the family that they enjoy that isn't cutting off years of his life like medical treatment or running the comms is. He's also stupid fucking fast at it and good at cleaning as he goes, and its hard to have someone else in his very regulated and honed system without mucking it up

Bruce: Contrary to popular belief, the man can cook. Unfortunately, he can only do so if there is a written recipe to follow and it is written in the way that makes sense to his brain. Will read the recipe ahead of time for prep, but will miraculously forget that there is a 3 hour resting period if it is not at the top with the prep time and cook time. Please do not ask him to cook anything after watching a video, it does not stick. Has no sense of what spices do what, so if the recipe says we're using 2 tablespoons of ground cloves, then that's what we're doing. With a good recipe, he can make any food from around the world no matter how complex, however, even something as simple as a tuna salad, ham and cheese, or a PB&J sandwich needs a written recipe with exact amounts and instructions for him to get it done or he will mess it up in ways not even the devil himself could imagine. Look, he has an eidetic memory, but his brain just does not compute that way and he's alway second guessing himself without a written recipe. The only thing he can make from scratch without a recipe are his mother's latkes, but that is, of course, rarely made because of all the emotions, but sometimes he goes through it because he remembers how she had him make them and it feels like she's still there with him, whispering in his ear.

He and Alfred have both agreed to tell anyone who asks that he's not allowed to cook by himself in the kitchen because he will find a way to use three pots and every bowl to make hot chocolate (he will, as a matter of fact), but it's really because when he was younger, he was making a pan sauce that the recipe simply said to “reduce” and managed to burn it so badly it ruined a pan Alfred had inherited from his grandmother and Bruce cannot stomach the possibility of doing that again

He winds up cooking for real these days only if Alfred is injured, but can sit in the kitchen to help supervise (“No, Master Bruce, you'll need a much bigger pot for that”) and explain vague steps in the recipes ("Coat the back of a spoon means that...")(Alexa or other virtual assistants do not help)

Dick: Despite what his kitchen cabinets may suggest, he makes phenomenal food. He's just putting all his emotional energy into keeping his people alive so if he's on his own then odds are he's having take-out, eating a mix of cereal/granola bars/trail-mix/cartons of protein shakes, or maybe a frozen meal prepped thing from the last time he had the wherewithal and time to do so and is thusly freezer burned to shit. If he is making food for other people? Amazing. Delicious. His repertoire is mainly dishes from Eastern Europe or Southwest Asia, but he has to know what the soul of the meal is if he's making something new. Rarely consults written recipes (unless they're online and have the whole novel of where the recipe came from and what it means and all the pictures of how it's supposed to look at various stages, and he will read that and the ingredient list only), prefers videos, but only from grandmas and grandpas or POC, not the rich white frat boys.

He cooks in any kitchen where Alfred is not and will not be present. You would be forgiven for thinking that he and Alfred could cook in the kitchen at the same time, especially since they can make the same dish with a reasonably similar flavor profile. The fact of the matter is, they both are very much type A personalities (even if Dick likes to pretend he's a type B) and if they are both present during the cooking process they will be at each other's throats constantly about their different methods, even if they are getting to the same destination in the end

Cass: Subsists mostly off of what she can find or what others feed her. She can cook a few simple dishes but they’re not mind blowing. She does make a phenomenal assistant, but she had zero working knowledge of what does what coming into the picture and has been gradually learning. Has learned how to work the waffle iron from Steph, and so is in charge of waffles for breakfast. Waffles has become her thing and everyone lets her have it. She can even make stuffed waffles these days.

Alfred is happy to leave all waffle breakfast adventures in the manor to Cass, she's very polite in the kitchen and doesn't make a huge mess, she'll even clean as she goes so it doesn't interfere with whatever else he is making

She is Alfred's favorite assistant (the rare times that he actually wants one) because she doesn't take his irritation personally because she can see how its meant to be directed at himself and will do exactly as he says

Jason: It's important you know I headcanon his paternal grandmother as Italian (so she cannot be Ma Gunn) and his step-mother as Latina going into this. He can fucking cook like no one's business. He can taste something and recreate it nearly flawlessly. However, he was taught by his nonna and mamita to measure with his heart, so he was presented with measuring cups once and broke out into hives. Only God knows how much of any one ingredient makes it into anything he makes, this includes cakes and breads. The only recipes he's interested in learning are strictly videos from the grandmas and grandpas or POC (Jason has a rule, the shittier the camera quality, the better the food will be, usually). He watched one popular white frat boy cooking video exactly once and was screaming about why they have to dirty approximately sixteen thousand little bowls to measure out each spice by themselves (and that wasn't nearly enough garlic!). He technically has recipes written down by hand from his nonna and mamita, and a few he wrote himself to try and help Alfred understand some meals, they're just hidden away in a drawer that he rarely references for cooking guidance over looking at their handwriting (The set from his family was in the box of stuff the neighbor saved for him that had his birth certificate in it, and he is forever grateful to still have that stuff. He thought for sure it was gone for good). Approximately 80% of all his meals are cooked by him or someone else, even if it's just a quick scrambled eggs and toast.

Jason and Alfred do not coexist happily in a kitchen together. However, they do coexist because Alfred asked him once why he was doing things “that way” as a child and he said his Nonna did it that way and that shut Alfred the fuck up immediately

Jason does not accept help in the kitchen from anyone unless he's making dumplings of any variety or tamales and then everyone's helping put them together

Tim: He only started learning how to cook at the age of 15, so he doesn't have a wide base of experience to draw from or pre-existing knowledge. Tim has a few staple dishes he has learned how to make. It's good, but not winning any awards. However, his hang up is he needs to know exactly how and why things work the way they work in a recipe before he can actually be trusted to cook it on his own. He likes recipes from food scientists, hobbyists or professionals, because they are more likely to explain all the things he needs to know before he can go ahead and cook something more complex. He measures everything in grams, and had to get a scale with 10ths of a gram for spices, once made coffee with lab equipment just for the science of it. Someone got him The Food Lab by J. Kenji Lopez-Alt and it was a game-changer. There is no deity out there that can explain to you the recipes he writes down himself, because their ever changing shorthand only make sense in his brain. Like Dick, Tim does not often have the wherewithal to make complex foods for himself, and so has a bunch of jars of sauces/curries/soups or vacuum sealed pre-seasoned meals ready to go in a sous vide or pot in the freezer to break out as needed. Often freezer-burned because of how little he is at his own place.

Tim is only allowed to cook in the manor's kitchen with supervision because he is likely to make disastrous experiments if left curious and unattended ("I know it's usually done this way, but…" is either going to lead to some delicious food, or an explosion. No way to know for sure unless you're there watching it happen live). What happens in his home kitchen is between him and God

He can make himself useful as an assistant if needed, but usually only for Dick because only he has the patience to put up with Tim in the kitchen

Damian: Has forced himself to learn to cook competently. Will not let himself be outdone by the others, but has learned from all of them. When he's older, he could whip up a Michelin star quality dinner with plating, but doesn't find it worth the effort unless he is trying to impress someone or prove he can. Opts for simple and nutritious meals on the rare occasion he is responsible for his own meals and has the time/desire to cook. Does he measure? Only exactly for baked goods, he will never admit it, but he has no idea how Jason can make baked goods without measuring. There are two things he knows how to make on his own as easy as breathing beyond eggs: Martha Wayne's latkes and Talia's karak chai.

Damian will only cook in the manor if it is more prudent to do so and everyone else there cannot (It's the middle of a blizzard and Bruce and Alfred are sick). Regardless, he is allowed to cook unsupervised in the manor when he's old enough for that to be reasonable.

Will help Alfred but complain the whole time, despite obviously enjoying the time spent with Alfred

Look, he's either helping someone else make something, or he's on his own. Does not care for assistants as he feels like he is constantly being judged.

Barbara: Can cook, will cook, and does cook. She uses slow-cookers and sous vide usually, because she needs something she can throw into a pot and then have to run away from for hours at a time at a moments notice without having to juggle it too. Otherwise it's a microwaved meal. Everything in her kitchen has been fit to accommodate her cooking in her wheelchair and when she's got the time and is really feeling up to it, she can cook a very amazing meal on the stove just for herself or anyone else she's having over.

Will only accept help in the kitchen from Cass or Steph because they are laid back enough to put up with

Steph: Can she cook? Yes. Does she love cooking? No. Cooking is a chore to her and it does not have the payoff she needs to engage with it more than absolutely necessary. She'll look through her pantry and declare that she doesn't have anything good because everything she has was bought when she had more ambition to cook than she currently possesses and then order door dash. The easiest way to get her to cook is to tell her that she's not allowed to. That said, she really loves to bake. She's not winning any awards for her presentation, but it tastes amazing.

Would rather clean dishes than help cook because she does not have the energy to put up with the way the others are while cooking

I haven't read much with Kate, Duke, Helena, or Harper in it, so I don't have anything for them.

[memorabxlia]

ER Escapades ━ 이한

genre: doctor au, smut summary: in which you help your husband out at his workplace warnings: smut (mdni) language, pet names (good girl, good boy), oral (f and m receiving), unprotected sex, passionate sex, rough sex, dirty talk, definitely forgot something pairing: doctor!leehan x fem!reader wc: 2.5k a/n: the hold doctor leehan has on me…😩 (also bare with me as this is my first smut fic) nets: @blossomnet @onedoornet @chrimatanet @k-labels @k-films

Your phone buzzed in your hand, the screen lighting up with a message from Leehan. You glanced at it quickly, your heart skipping a beat as you saw his name. The text was short and to the point: "Need help. Can't focus. Need you here."

You frowned, tapping out a quick reply. "What's going on? Is everything okay?"

His response came almost immediately. "Not like that. I need... relief. Can't take care of this myself. I've tried, please come."

Your cheeks flushed as you read the message again. This wasn't like him. Leehan was always so composed, so professional. But here he was, practically begging for help in the middle of his workday. You bit your lip, considering your options. Showing up at the hospital unannounced would be strange, to say the least. But then again, this was your husband asking for your help.

"I can't just show up without a reason, Lee," you typed back, trying to keep your tone casual even though your pulse was racing.

"Come in for a checkup," he replied. "Say you've been feeling ill. I'll handle it personally."

A wave of heat washed over you as you imagined the scenario. You'd be lying, but the thought of being alone with Leehan in a hospital room, where anything could happen, was intoxicating. You swallowed hard, typing back a simple, "Okay."

The drive to the hospital was a blur. You parked in the visitor lot and made your way inside, your heart pounding in your chest. The sterile smell of antiseptic hit you as soon as you walked through the doors, and you took a deep breath, steeling yourself for what was to come.

Leehan had texted you directions to the examination room he'd be using. You followed them, your footsteps echoing down the empty hallway. When you finally reached the door, you hesitated for a moment before pushing it open.

The room was dimly lit, the only light coming from the small lamp on the side table. Leehan stood by the exam table, his white coat hanging open to reveal the crisp blue shirt beneath. He looked up as you entered, his eyes dark with desire.

"Thanks for coming," he said, his voice low and husky. "I wasn't sure if you'd actually do it."

You closed the door behind you, leaning against it as you met his gaze. "You asked for my help, Lee. How could I say no?"

He stepped closer, his hands reaching out to pull you into his arms. You melted against him, your body reacting to his touch even as your mind tried to process the absurdity of the situation. Here you were, making out with your husband in a hospital room, while he was supposed to be working.

Leehan's hands roamed over your back, slipping under your shirt to caress your skin. You gasped, arching into his touch as he continued to kiss you, his tongue exploring your mouth with a hunger that left you breathless.

"Take off your coat," he murmured against your lips, his fingers already unbuttoning your blouse.

You complied, shrugging out of your jacket and letting it fall to the floor. Leehan's hands moved lower, unfastening your pants and slipping them down your hips. You kicked them off, standing there in nothing but your bra and panties, feeling exposed and exhilarated all at once.

Leehan's eyes darkened as he took in the sight of you. "Beautiful," he whispered, lifting you onto the exam table. "Spread your legs for me."

Your breath caught in your throat as you obeyed, parting your thighs and leaning back on your elbows. The cold surface of the table pressed against your bare skin, sending a shiver down your spine. You watched as Leehan slipped off his shoes and climbed onto the table between your legs, his gaze never leaving yours.

"Keep your panties on," he ordered, his voice firm. "I want you desperate for me."

You nodded, your breath hitching as he traced a finger along the lace crotch of your underwear. The sensation sent a jolt of electricity through you, making you squirm in anticipation.

"Good girl," he praised, his finger dipping beneath the edge of the lace to brush against your clit. "Now, tell me how bad you want this."

"So bad," you breathed, your hips bucking against his hand. "Please, Lee..."

He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your inner thigh. "Not yet," he murmured, his fingers moving faster, teasing your aching flesh. "You're going to beg me for it."

You moaned, your hands gripping the edge of the table as he continued to stroke you, driving you wild with need. The thrill of being caught made every touch more intense, every sensation magnified a hundredfold.

"Lee... I can't... please..." you gasped, your body trembling with anticipation.

He chuckled softly, pulling his hand away. "Patience," he said, slipping off the table and kneeling between your legs. "I'm not done with you yet."

You feel the cool, sterile air of the hospital examination room as Leehan's fingers delve deeper into you. The sensation is both thrilling and nerve-wracking, knowing that at any moment someone could walk in. You bite your lip to stifle a moan, but it escapes anyway, a soft, breathy sound that makes Leehan's eyes gleam with pleasure.

"Leehan, please," you whisper, your voice trembling with need. "I can't take much more of this."

He leans in close, his breath warm against your ear. "Then beg me," he commands, his tone dripping with dominance. "Tell me what you want."

You shiver, caught between the desire to submit and the fear of being overheard. But the throbbing ache between your legs overrides any hesitation. "Please, Leehan, I need you. Inside me, now. Please."

His fingers withdraw slowly, leaving you aching for more. He stands up, unbuttoning his pants with practiced ease, releasing his hard erection. You watch him, mesmerized by the sight, your body trembling with anticipation.

"On your knees," he orders, his voice firm. You comply immediately, sinking down onto the cold linoleum floor. The sensation against your skin adds another layer of excitement to the encounter. You look up at him, your eyes filled with longing.

He guides himself to your mouth, his cock nudging against your lips. You open willingly, taking him in, feeling the warmth and hardness filling your mouth. He groans, his hands threading through your hair, guiding you deeper. Your tongue swirls around him, tasting the pre-cum that beads at the tip.

The sounds of the hospital—distant footsteps, muffled conversations, the occasional beep of medical equipment—create a backdrop that heightens every sensation. Each time you hear a noise, your heart races, unsure if someone might be about to enter the room.

Leehan's grip on your hair tightens as he thrusts deeper, his breathing growing ragged. You match his rhythm, eager to bring him pleasure, to give him release. His hand moves from your hair to your cheek, cupping it gently as he looks down at you, his expression a mix of pride and raw desire.

"Fuck, you're perfect," he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. "So good."

You feel a surge of pride, your cheeks flushing with heat. You redouble your efforts, sucking him harder, using your tongue to tease the underside of his shaft. His hips buck involuntarily, pushing deeper, driving you further into submission.

But just as you sense he's close, he pulls away abruptly, leaving you panting and desperate. You look up at him, confusion and frustration etched on your face.

"Not yet," he says, his voice low and husky. "I want to feel you first."

He helps you back onto the examination table, positioning you so your back rests against the padded headrest. You spread your legs wide, giving him full access. He kneels between them, his eyes locked onto yours as he begins to lick and kiss his way up your inner thighs.

The sensation is electric, sending shivers through your body. You arch your back, pressing yourself closer to his mouth. His tongue finds your clit, circling it slowly at first, then increasing in speed and pressure. You cry out, your hands gripping the edge of the table for support.

"Leehan!" you gasp, your voice high and strained. "Oh God, yes! Right there! Don't stop!"

He doesn't stop. Instead, he uses one hand to hold your hips steady while his other teases your entrance, playing with your folds, stroking the sensitive skin just outside your opening. The dual sensations are almost too much to bear, your body trembling with impending release.

Your moans grow louder, blending with the ever-present hospital noises. You close your eyes, lost in the pleasure, barely registering when Leehan shifts, lining himself up with your entrance. He enters you slowly, inch by inch, allowing your body to adjust to his size.

You feel full, stretched around him, your muscles clenching instinctively. He pauses, letting you get used to the feeling before he starts to move, his thrusts slow and deliberate. Each movement sends waves of pleasure coursing through you, building towards an inevitable climax.

"Look at me," he commands, his voice rough with need. You open your eyes, meeting his gaze. The intensity of his stare sends a jolt of energy through you, heightening every sensation.

With each thrust, the bed creaks softly, adding to the urgency of the moment. You can feel the vibrations through the mattress, amplifying the physical connection between you. Your breaths come in short, sharp gasps, your body arching upwards to meet his.

"Leehan, I'm so close," you whimper, your voice breaking with desperation. "Please, I need..."

"Just let go," he whispers, his thrusts becoming faster, more erratic. "Let it happen."

And then, with a final, powerful thrust, you do. Your orgasm hits like a tidal wave, overwhelming your senses. You cry out, your body convulsing with pleasure as wave after wave of ecstasy crashes over you.

Leehan follows soon after, his own release washing over him as he buries himself deep inside you. His breath comes in harsh gasps, his chest heaving with exertion. For a few moments, neither of you speak, simply basking in the aftermath of your shared pleasure.

But then, just as you begin to relax, the door handle jiggles.

The door handle jiggles again, and the room falls silent for a split second. Leehan pulls away slightly but keeping you close, your bodies still glistening with sweat. "Shh," he whispers, his voice barely audible as he presses a finger to his lips. The door handle stops moving, and you both hold your breath, listening intently.

After what feels like an eternity, the footsteps fade away, and Leehan relaxes, his hand still resting on your waist. "We can't stay here much longer," he murmurs, his voice low and urgent. "But before we leave, I need you to finish what you started."

You gaze up at him, your heart pounding in your chest. "What do you mean?" you ask, though you already know the answer.

Leehan's eyes darken with desire as he leans in closer, his breath hot against your ear. "I want you to take control this time," he whispers. "Show me how much you need me."

Your pulse quickens at his words, your body responding instantly to the suggestion. You nod slowly, your resolve strengthening. "Lie back," you command, your voice steady despite the tremor of excitement running through you.

Leehan obeys without hesitation, stretching out on the examination table, his hands resting above his head. The sight of him, spread out and vulnerable, sends a jolt of heat through your body. You cup his balls gently, feeling the weight of them in your hand, and then trail your fingers up the length of his shaft.

Leehan groans softly, his hips arching off the table in response to the touch. "Please," he breathes, his eyes closed, "don't make me wait."

You smirk, your confidence growing. "Patience," you say, your voice a sultry drawl. "You're going to earn this."

You continue to stroke him, your grip firm yet teasing. Each pass of your hand brings him closer to the edge, but you slow your pace just as he starts to build toward release. You lean in closer, your mouth hovering just above his cock, but you don't give him the satisfaction of taking him in.

"Beg me," you whisper, your breath warm against his skin. "Tell me why you need this."

Leehan's eyes flutter open, and he looks up at you, his expression a mixture of desperation and desire. "Please," he murmurs, his voice thick with need. "I need you... I need to feel you."

Your heart races at his words, your own desire flaring hotter. "Good boy," you say, voice laced with approval. You finally lower your mouth to his cock, taking him in deeply, your tongue swirling around the tip before sliding down his length.

Leehan's hands clamp down on the edges of the table, his body trembling with the effort of holding still. "Fuck," he gasps, his voice ragged. "That's it... just like that."

You continue to suck him, movements precise and deliberate. You vary your pace, sometimes quickening until Leehan is thrusting into your mouth, other times slowing to a torturous crawl. You take your hand to guide him, adding pressure at the base to heighten the sensation.

Leehan's moans grow louder, more desperate, letting you know he's close. You pull off him briefly, looking up into his eyes. "Do you want to come?" Your voice soft and seductive.

"Yes," Leehan answers immediately, his chest heaving with exertion. "God, yes..."

You smile, lips curling into a wicked grin. "Then come for me," you say, returning to his cock with renewed intensity. You take him deep, swallowing around him as you quicken your pace, working him harder and faster.

Leehan's head falls back, his eyes rolling shut as he surrenders to the pleasure. "Ah, fuck... I'm gonna...!" His words cut off as his orgasm crashes over him, his cock pulsing between your lips. He comes hard, his seed filling your mouth as his body convulses with each powerful spasm.

You swallow every drop, savoring the taste of him, then you pull off slowly, licking your lips clean. You stand up straight, watching as Leehan lies there, spent and panting, his eyes glazed with satisfaction.

"Did you enjoy that?" You ask, voice dripping with smugness.

Leehan opens his eyes and meets your gaze, a lazy smile spreading across his face. "More than words can say," he replies.

Your heart swells with pride, the earlier tension melting away under the warmth of his gratitude. You reach down to help him sit up, smoothing his hair back from his forehead. "Let's get cleaned up," you suggest, your tone gentle now.

As you start to redress, the hospital intercom crackles to life overhead, announcing the next patient to be seen. Leehan freezes momentarily, his eyes darting to the door. "We should go," he says, his voice tinged with urgency.

You nod, understanding the risk you're taking by staying any longer. You finish buttoning your clothes and quickly gather your things. Just as your about to leave, Leehan catches your hand, stopping you.

"Wait," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. He steps closer, pressing a kiss to your lips, lingering just long enough to convey his gratitude. "Thank you," he murmurs against your mouth.

You smile, heart swelling with affection. "Anytime, doctor," you reply.

❥﹒ boynextdoor taglist: @minkilicious

[bean-there-before]

I don’t know how to explain it (wait real quick imagine this like I’m saying it while we’re laying on grass looking up at clouds)

I don’t know how to explain it but I don’t think I want to be friends with any real life Smosh or dimension 20 or starkid or life series fans

Like I have people on here that I can freak out about something with and I don’t know how to casually say “I like Smosh” without diving headfirst into everything I love about it and all the ships and all my favorite duos

likewise if someone told me they had watched tmwdlm idk how I wouldn’t be able to start ranting about the music coming back and the plots and the lords in black and I’d definitely spoil every other hatchetfeild musical

also, if someone said “I like dropout but especially dimension 20” how would one normally talk about it without jumping into everything single character and how good this is and every single campaign I’ve seen and how i don’t have the time or attention span to watch all the ones I want to and I want them directly transferred via iv into my bloodstream

or like (this one actually happened) I had my friend name all the people in the life series based on their skins and she did then I couldn’t stop myself from jumping straight into the lore and explaining a bunch of relationships and why this happened and why this and who won this

you know? Like how do you be normal around people who are like… normal about a thing

edit for clarification: less like I’m scared about not being normal and more like a healthy work life balance they don’t all need to know the amount of time I allocate to these things

[paulyenvol6]

Bound by Flame (Chapter 14)

Contains: no warnings really

Wordcount: ~2.44k

Masterlist of this story

It was a grey afternoon when Aegon Targaryen finally arrived two days later.

There was a gathering, fanfares and music for the future lord of the seven kingdoms and in addition to Maera and the court there were also some common borns that watched as the crown prince hugged his father.

"My son is back!" he shouted and proudly patted his shoulders.

Aegon had grown into a handsome and slender man, silver blonde of hair and a pronounced jaw. He smiled shyly and waved to the people and then made his way to greet the rest of his family that he hadn't seen in so long.

Maera returned her brother's croaked smirk and then closed her eyes when he wrapped his arms around her.

"How are you, sister? I've heard so much…"

"I'm fine. And very happy."

The hug had lasted only a few seconds and then he held her a little away from him to examin her accurately.

"It's very good to see you," he said after a while and then was quick to turn to Daemon.

"Uncle," he spoke a lot more reserved.

An amused smirk played around the addressed's lips and he inhaled deeply.

"Nephew. How was your tour? I haven't heard a great deal about it."

"No wonder. You seemed to have been occupied elsewhere. Getting my sister pregnant, for example," Aegon hissed sharply and flashed his eyes at Daemon.

Maera's uncle watched him with a mixture of amusement and menace.

"Be careful with your words. You wouldn't want to humiliate your sister in front of the whole court, would you?"

His nephew scoffed and shook his head.

"That's not what I'm after, no. But it seems like that's what you had in mind when you kidnapped her and dragged her to dragonstone."

Maera just had to intervene now and tried to push her brother away from her husband.

"Please Aegon. Don't make a scene. Everything is fine, you don't need to step in for me."

"I'm not making a scene," he answered the anger clearly showing off in his voice. "I'm trying to defend my sister and restore her honour. If there's anything left of it."

Now it was her uncle that narrowed his eyes at the crown prince and his facial expression turned cold.

"Now you're insulting your sister. And as her husband it is my place to tell you that you're not to say another thing about my wife's honour. Have I made myself clear?"

Aegon chuckled and flared his nostrils in the next moment. "It's not your place to tell me what to do!"

To Maera's relief her father finally noticed the confrontation between his brother and his son and he furrowed his brow while approaching the scene. She sighed thinking that someone with a certain authority would finally deescalate whatever this was.

"Aegon," he hissed and placed hand on his shoulder. "Behave yourself."

Unwillingly his son took his eyes off Daemon and instead glared at the king.

"How can you accept this? How can you host him like that and feast with him in your own halls??"

Maera instinctively reached out to her uncle and blindly searched for his hand which he gave her and she gripped it tightly.

"This is a lawful marriage, son. And you wouldn't actually assume that I would send my own brother away and deny him a place in my court, would you? You should apologize to your uncle for questioning his marriage."

For the first time Aegon seemed defensive and lowered his gaze. His father observed him expectantly and seemingly waited for another complain but he just looked like he was searching the ground for something until he lifted his gaze again to glance at his uncle.

"Forgive me, uncle," he breathed and judging by the way he had gulped, these words had been hard for him to say.

The addressed nodded graciously and this smug smile just wouldn't vanish from his face.

Soon the process made their way back to the castle and in the meantime Viserys announced that there would be a feast in honour of the crown prince's return tonight and the surrounding lords and ladies cheered and smiled at the royal family.

~~~~~~~~~~

In the evening a couple of handmaidens helped Maera prepare herself for the glorious ball that her father had described the upcoming feasting as and watched the crimson velvet fabric of her dress in awe. It exposed her collar bones and was tight on her torso which made it a form-fitting gown fit for a wedded princess. The dress fell down to the ground looking both heavy and effortless at the same time with the hem touching the ground just slightly like a brush of a finger. She also wore a necklace that felt cold when it touched her but its rubin looked glorious on her light skin.

Daemon who had gotten dressed in a different room knocked on her door just when she was finished and Maera thought that he might be able to read her thoughts.

His eyes flashed up when he laid them on her the first time and he unshamelessly regarded her whole body. Under his gaze Maera felt both intimidated and beautiful and suddenly she felt like her skin was in flames.

"You look stunning," he whispered so quietly that she knew those words were only meant for her ears. "Absolutely beautiful."

Maera broke into a smile and felt this familiar heat between her legs when her husband pressed a kiss on her forehead. She felt like she was turning into an animal when he was that way. When he gave her these intense eyes, watched her as if she was all he had ever wanted and spoke to her so gently that Maera believed she genuinely had never been loved by someone like this before.

"Thank you," she breathed and tried to focus. It indeed was a bad time to feel heated because there was a feast they had to attend and so Maera exhaled a few times and she savoured the breeze that came with the opening of the door. The dizziness faded and she felt stronger on her feet as Daemon guided her through the corridor heading to the throne room.

They were greeted by her brother who actually seemed to pull himself together and returned the honest smile Maera gave him. Then they took their seat next to the king and Maera let her eyes wander over the room.

The hall was generously decorated with candles, tapestries and the Targaryen banner majestically towering beside the king's table. A group of musicians played lively music and lords and ladies were already exuberantly dancing in the middle of the room. Soon Maera felt too excited and jittery to sit around and questioningly looked at Daemon.

"I wish to dance, uncle."

He had just lifted his cup to his mouth and watched her with raised eyebrows while taking a sip of wine. Then he placed it back on the table in front of him and a playful smirk appeared on his lips.

"Is that so?" he asked and ran his hand over his wife's thigh.

"Please. I don't want to sit around all night."

He chuckled lightly but then sighed and got off his chair.

"Alright. If I may?" he asked sarcastically while offering his niece his hand. She felt a bubbly feeling in her tummy and joyfully took his hand.

Daemon guided her down the few steps to the dance floor where she spotted several lords of her father's small council as well as his hand. Her husband rested one of his hands on her waist and then the couple started to move to the music.

Maera smiled up to him. He looked so gorgeous in this light and she simply loved it when his eyes turned so soft and loving. There was a smile on his mouth as well and right now there was nothing sarcastic about it. It was a genuine, honest smile and she couldn't help but feel proud knowing that she was one of the few people in this world who got to see it. Gods, she wanted him so badly in every way someone could want a man. She wanted him to love her, hold her, touch her and praise her. And seven hells, she wanted to carry his child again.

"Kiss me," Maera whispered quietly and now his smile turned into a smirk again.

"Tsk tsk. That's not the kind of behaviour fit for a princess," he said with his raspy voice and Maera swore she felt her heart beat faster just because of the sound of his voice.

"Please," she demanded again and this time Daemon inhaled loudly but looked amused rather than annoyed.

He leaned down and pressed his soft lips on hers. She knew that it was not only inappropriate but also disrespectful towards her brother who had so explicitely expressed his dislike regarding her marriage to Daemon earlier but she couldn't care less. The only thing Maera cared about was the gorgeous man in front of her who only loved her.

But the kiss didn't last long either way because he soon pulled away hinting at the fact that unlike her, he hadn't utterly forgotten about his good manners. He watched her glossy eyes that showed how much she yearned for him smugly and then ran his thumb over her waist just very slightly.

"You're making it very hard for me not to take you away from the feast and up to my room right now."

Maera felt goosebumps on her arms but just when she wanted to answer the music suddenly stopped and the dance was over. That was also the moment when someone approached Daemon from behind and rested a hand on his shoulder.

"If that's not Daemon Targaryen," a voice said and Maera blinked a few times trying to figure out who the slim small man was.

"Otis," Daemon chuckled and didn't seem to have any difficulties recognizing him.

"Maera, this is Otis, a good friend from my childhood. And Otis, I don't believe I have to introduce the princess to you."

She smiled when the man bowed his head and kissed the back of her hand.

"It's very nice to meet you, ser," she said. "We haven't seen each other in years, have we?"

Otis asked and grinned at his old friend. "That much is true."

"How about a drink together? We have so much to talk about."

Daemon nodded but then his eyes fell upon his wife. He really didn't feel like leaving her alone especially considering the fact that there were so many lustful lords in this room who were probably only waiting for a chance to creep up on her. But at the same time Daemon didn't want to reject his friend and he really wanted to know what he had been up to those past years. So he would just have to trust his wife.

"I will be back soon, love. I'm just gonna go sit outside with Otis for a little while so we can catch up," he spoke and kissed Maera on her forehead. "Don't do anything stupid, you understand me?"

She nodded and observed her husband while he rubbed over her shoulder one last time before heading out with his friend. She was so deep in her thoughts that she didn't notice the man staring at her at first but once Daemon had left the hall she turned her head only to look right into the eyes of Cylvin Lannister.

She had known him since she was a child and had always despised him. She hated the way his eyes clenched and Maera had found herself feeling scared of him as a child but now he just disgusted her. His company was definitely the last thing she wished for now so the girl started to make her way through the crowd but unfortunately he was faster than her and managed to cut her way off by stepping in front of her.

"Princess," he said and bowed his head.

Maera gave him a forced smile that he seemingly couldn't distinguish from an authentic one because he took it as an invitation to kiss her hand.

"You look lovely tonight, my princess."

"Thank you," she said curtly.

"I hope your husband is aware of his luck. Having the most beautiful woman in the room at his side, I mean." Cylvin grinned and she felt the urge to throw up right in this moment.

"He is, thank you," Maera answered and was certain that by now her disgust was clearly visible on her face. "Will you please excuse me now, ser? My father has asked for my presence."

She gave him her sweetest smile but before she was able to turn around and walk away he stopped her by placing his hand on her shoulder.

"But sweet child, your father seems pretty engrossed in a conversation, he can surely do without your presence for a few more minutes."

At this point Maera grew very angry and was about to give a snappy answer when she heard another voice.

"Excuse me ser, but he can't. You won't mind me escorting the princess to his grace now."

She turned around and looked into the familiar face of lord Jakor Hightower, a lord in her father's council. Cylvin grinded his teeth but acted indifferently towards him.

"Of course, yes."

The rest of his mumbling Maera couldn't understand but it didn't matter now because he had turned around and left the dance floor. The girl exhaled loudly and looked at her saviour.

"Thank you, my lord."

He smirked at her croakedly. "You're very welcome, princess. I saw you and believed that you might need some rescue."

Maera chuckled and was able to relax now in lord Jakor's presence, who she had always liked for his calm and even-tempered character.

"Yes, he… I've never liked him and he wouldn't leave me alone."

"I don't like him either. He smells of burnt hair, for some weird reason. And spoiled cheese."

Maera had to laugh out loudly and then furrowed her brow.

"I don't like his eyes. They're mean and… evil."

Jakor looked at her thoughtfully but then smiled softly.

"Don't think about his eyes then. May I have this next dance, princess?"

She only fought for a brief moment with herself. He had rescued her so it would be rude to refuse.

And it was only a dance after all and Maera knew Daemon to like and respect the lord as well.

He surely wouldn't have anything against it.

~~~~~~~~~~

I swear, the next chapter will be longer!!

Taglist:

@smashee0789 @classicsimpforaaronwarner @hangmanscoming @ninihrtss @coffeebooksrain18 @aleemendoza2425-blog @chiminies-noona

[it-happened-one-fic]

Dancing With Visions - Without Any Hesitation - Kinich - Lambada

Author Notes: This was actually my first time writing Kinich, but the fic came together pretty quickly and I'm pretty satisfied with it. The tidbit about Lambada being known as a 'Forbidden Dance' is actually something I picked up from my research. Ditto with the short skirts that used to be worn by performers which led to being called the 'Forbidden Dance.' The dance in this fic was highly inspired by the lambada performance by Leo Bruno & Romina Hidalgo to “Unforgettable” by French Montana ft. Swae Lee. This fic was also written to the instrumental version of the same song. I hope you enjoy

If you would like to read more of this series, the fics can be found here: Dancing with Visions Masterlist

Type: Female reader/ fluff/ sfw/ feelings sort of implied but can be platonic/ featuring Mualani and Xilonen/

Word count: 1795

I walked through the Children of Echoes tribe with Kinich, glancing around at all of the people around us. 

Some were dancing on stages while others grooved off to the side to the music and clapped along to the beat.

It was a common scene here and was simply the culture of this tribe. Always lively, filled with complicated beats, and dancing people everywhere.

But right now all I could really wonder about was whether the dance competition would use a stage like one of these and if it would be as crowded there.

Because for me, unlike so many of these other dancers, performing was going to be a new thing. 

I’d only ever really danced for my own enjoyment, where others weren’t really around. 

Well, except for Kinich, of course. But he was different. He was my partner, and I knew there was going to be very little, if any, judgment from him.

Sure, Ajaw might be mouthy at times, but half the time Kinich put him in time out anyway.

I felt myself relax slightly as I spotted the form of Xilonen just up ahead. Because if she was here, competing in a dance-off, then absolutely no one was going to be looking at me.

It was true that I’d never seen her dance much, but I had seen her on her roller skates and just moving around in general, and there was always an easy, if lazy, sort of elegance to her motions.

And she wasn’t alone. Mualani was also there and quite obviously raring to go as well as excited as she visibly brightened as soon as she saw me and Kinich, “Kinich! Y/n!! Over here!” 

Mualani wasted no time in beckoning us over as the taller woman turned to glance our way, blinking slightly before turning to face us fully with a slight smile on her face, “I didn’t know you two were going to be competing.” 

I lifted my shoulder in a half-shrug, offering an awkward smile as we walked over, “Neither did we until just a little bit ago. Wayna said we ought to come though, so that the Scions of the Canopy would have some competitors.”

Mualani leaned over, winking at me before she bumped Kinich with her shoulder playfully, “If I’d known you were competing, I would’ve asked to partner up with you rather than taking a random partner.”

I smiled as I watched the two of them. And as always, Mualani was far more exuberant than the characteristically stoic Kinich, who crossed his arms before glancing her way, “I went and got Y/n as soon as Wayna asked me to compete.”

Xilonen’s eyebrows lifted, and she glanced my way while Mualani cooed out a far-too-teasing, “Oh,” before the taller lady glanced back over towards Kinich with a slight tilt to her head, “He asked you to compete?”

Kinich merely nodded, apparently unmoved by Mualani’s teasing or Xilonen’s question, and I felt myself sigh before I answered the blacksmith as I gestured over towards Kinich vaguely, “More like he got commissioned.”

Xilonen snorted at my words, but both women nodded. Neither of them in the slightest surprised that Kinich was definitely going to be getting paid for this. But then Mualani glanced my way, a playful glint in her eye that let me know her teasing was far from over, “You must be pretty good at dancing, though, if Kinich asked you to be his partner.”

She was all smiles as I laughed slightly, shrugging slightly only for Kinich to answer for me in his usual nonchalant fashion, “I’ve danced with her before.”

Mualani blinked at his words, her eyes widening briefly in surprise before she bobbed her head with an overly pleased smile as Xilonen eyed us. Her head tilting slightly before she turned to face the cleared-out area with a hum, “Looks like we’re getting started.”

And in mere moments the first two dancers' names were getting called, and I felt my eyes widen in mild alarm. 

“Y/n and Kinich dancing the lambada!”

Mualani gave a little cheer and applauded as Kinich started forward and I hurried after him. Faltering only slightly before I matched his stride and walked into the cleared-out area, feeling myself exhale slightly as he glanced my way.

Because this was what I’d been bracing myself for the entire time and the reason I’d been distracted the entire time we’d been chatting with Mualani and Xilonen.

Performing. Especially when lambada had the reputation of being a ‘forbidden’ dance, of all things. 

Just because the lyrics to the songs used for lambada often had rather naughty lyrics and many of the female dancers wore incredibly short skirts in the past didn’t mean it had to be a particularly dirty dance.

There were plenty of other styles that involved close contact between the dancers, after all. But the lambada’s reputation had always left me feeling antsy about ever performing.

And that was why I’d been surprised when Kinich had shown up at my house, out of nowhere, and asked me to be his partner for a competition that I hadn’t even known was taking place until today.

He knew about my mixed feelings in regards to performing and, even if he didn’t share them himself, had always respected them.

But I’d agreed quickly, and I knew it had nothing to do with his offer to split his commission reward with me.

Rather, I agreed because Kinich was always the person I danced with. Whether it was at home or while we were just messing around some place else. He was my dance partner and had been since early on. And I genuinely enjoyed dancing with him.

There was something so easy about it all that made me relax while we were together, whether we were dancing or just sitting together.

All of those reasons, as well as my honest fondness for him, were probably why the mere act of standing here with Kinich made this far easier than it would have been with anyone else.

And I couldn’t deny that, even though Mualani had just been teasing, it had been heartwarming to hear him assert that I’d been his first choice without any hesitation whatsoever.

I lightly rested my hand on his shoulder, stepping closer to him until there was minimal space between us as his arm wrapped around my upper back until his hand rested against my side.

And, as naturally as could be, our free hands raised until they connected as the beat hit, and we both began to move to the rhythm.  

We shifted along, our motions matching the rolling beat even as we shifted and spun out so that we were only connected by our interlocked hands until we looked towards one another.

My other hand reached out for his, and we bent at the knees together, sashaying our way down, and I felt a smile flicker across my face as we straightened once more and he let go of my hand. Moving forwards with his arm wrapping around behind him so that my hand could catch his as we passed by one another.

Our motions continued to roll along. One into the other as we constantly shifted. First in front of one another, then back to back, then side by side, and then facing one another yet again.

He led me around the floor easily. Spinning me from place to place without even the slightest hesitation to his motions, even though half the time he was leading with only one hand, which either held my own or rested relaxedly against my waist.

And even though our motions were relatively fast and filled to the brim with movements that rolled directly from one into the next, it was easy to relax as I danced with Kinich. 

I was already finding that I was surprisingly unbothered. Because even despite the crowd of people around us, it was just like dancing at home, in my living room, where no one else would be watching.

Distantly, I realized there were people clapping along as we danced. But I could hardly question it as Kinich twirled me across the floor. Occasionally shifting so that he would be behind me and we would both spin together until he shifted back around so that he’d be directly in front of me. Never with very much space between us.

It was easy to keep up our pacing, though. Almost as if it were second nature to us by now.

We parted, spinning separately, but it wasn't long until I felt his arm wrap back around me. Tugging me back towards him until I was securely in his hold once more.

There were moments where it almost felt like we were all tangled up together. Our arms interweaving and sliding past one another as we shifted constantly around the floor. Maintaining our steady rhythm as more and more people clapped along to the music.

He stepped back, leaning towards me as he gripped one of my hands in his while his other arm wrapped around my waist, and I leaned back. Lightly kicking up one leg as I leaned into the dip with a smile that widened as he pulled me back upright. His gaze briefly meeting mine before he swung us into a rotation where he walked around me lightly before whirling me into a twirl.

Our arms raised together, crossing in the middle as we peered between them at each other before he let go of my hands as I briefly caught my breath.

His hands were light in their touch against my forearms as he pushed them down in a wide arching motion. His eyes locked onto mine as his palms wrapped the rest of the way around my arms to grip them and swing them around him in a loose embrace that barely reached completion before we were in motion again.

We finished before long, though, him spinning me out so that we stood side by side once more. Just like how we’d walked onto the floor together. 

But this time we looked towards one another, his gaze holding mine steadily as I smiled back at him before we bowed as applause rang out. With Mualani in particular cheering loudly and jumping in place.

And even now, I had no doubt that we weren’t actually going to win. But we had still put on a performance we could be proud of. And by the end of it, I’d actually enjoyed myself. Even if I suspected that was largely due to the comfort of having danced with Kinich rather than anyone else. And I could honestly say that at this point, it was possibly one of the best dances we’d ever done.

If you would like to read more:

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[monarchcelebi]

Sonic the Hedgehog 3 Movie Thoughts NO SPOILERS

Okay.

So.

I am looking at this from two perspectives. A MAJOR Sonic fan, and a Cinephile.

Starting with the Cinephile brain. Yes, there are some problems I can think of with the movie. Sure. Whatever. This movie was not perfect and it was never going to be. I am not gonna go into specifics because I wanna avoid spoiling anything for others who might wanna see it. Although I will say; many of the problems I had with the movie are rather minor and did not effect my enjoyment of the movie in the slightest.

With that said, as a sonic fan: This was a celebration of the franchise. If you are a sonic fan, you need to see this movie. This was SO fun, there where tons of easter eggs, references, and little moments that celebrate the franchise. The comedy here was really pretty fun, and while not every joke landed, I found myself chuckling and having a good time. Oh and the ACTION, man? Fuckin' peak. It was incredible, I mean that from the bottom of my heart. Even with me saying the movie has some flaws or whatever, none of that really matters to me if I am being perfectly honest. Instead of being just sugary fanservice there is some actual substance here, and I always appreciate that.

I am so glad this movie is projected to do well. My viewing audience had a great time and even got an applause at the end of the movie. Also, do NOT miss those post credit scenes. Absolutely hyped, trust me.

TLDR: While there are some problems, I loved this movie. I wanna see it again another two or three times. This was SO fun. Easily the best one. Go watch it!!

[user1smvtysturniolo]

A Christmas with you | Chris Sturniolo

Pairing: shy!Chris x soft!dom!reader

Summary: it's few days before Christmas, and you're cuddling up with your boyfriend Chris after convincing him to watch a rom.com with you. Later on, you find yourselves in more tension in between the air, which brings you guys to...

Trigger Warning: established relationship, p in v, pet names, cuddling, first time sex, swearing, handjob, riding, unprotected sex, ¿lowkey a mommy kink?

Let me know if you wanna be tagged. Xoxo

You were besides Chris, your head resting on his shoulder while you drank your hot cocoa and he drank his while watching a movie. You couldn't help but notice how his heart race was fastening under your head and how he started adjusting himself. Half an hour past by, you both finished your drinks. And you were done playing this game. Even though you guys were in a relationship, it just had started a little ago so you guys never went too further. You both were too nervous and were trying to hide your feelings, rather said his hardening bulge and your hard nipples and how y'all acted around eachother in a situation this intimate, cuddling so together.

"Chris?" Your voice needy, slowly looking up at him with puppy eyes, you also grabbed the remote and stopped the film. "Hmm sweetheart?" He said in a sweet voice as he looked down at you, trying to hide how the fire inside him was igniting at your pleady eyes and needy voice. You didn't say anything else, rather you stood up a little bit and put your knees on the sides of his hips, not sitting on his lap but being right in front of him like that. His hard cock visible for you. One of your hand grabbed his cheek and the other one played with his hair. You slowly got closer and Chris gulped at every movement you made, the tension in the air visible.

"God I need you so fucking bad" you murmured to yourself as you fully sat down and started kissing him. Chris lets out a surprised yet delighted hum against your lips as you settle over him, his hand coming to rest on your waist. The feeling of you so close, all that heat between you, pushes him closer to the edge of reason "Baby...are you sure? I...I don't wanna mess things up..." he manages between kisses, fingers digging into your side playfully as he gives a small buck of his hips, seeking more contact despite his hesitance. "Shhh" you silenced him, your hands moving down to his shirt and lifting it off. As I start kissing and nibbling on his collarbone and neck I say between kisses "if you're not sure, I'm gonna make you be."

With that, I get down and start trailing kisses, nibbles and hickeys until I get just on top of his pants. I look up at him and bite my lip as I put my hand on top of his member and he shut his eyes and groaned in response. I hummed in response as I took down his pants and boxers. His eyes opened as he looked down at me, I could see his cheeks red from blushing and probably shyness, "mhm, you're so big" I murmured making him feel more comfortable, and he groaned in response. Then I first started caressing his thighs and kissing his inner thighs. He was so desperate for more he started gripping my hair tight and whimpered begging for more. "You're doing well, wait baby" I finally stroke him, starting from the tip spreading his pre-cum around his dick. He moaned, it took me by surprise so I playfully tightened my fist around him, jerking him off faster and rougher. "Fffuck, I'm close. I can't" he moaned out. "Wait, I'm not done" I smiled as I removed my hand from his cock earning a loud whimper in disapproval

I started undressing myself, removing my pajama pants and shirt. Leaving me only with Christmas panties lingerie, his eyes not leaving mine he bite his lip hard trying to hold in a moan by just looking at my body "God, you're so hot. I might cum only by looking at you". I blushed at his words looking away, putting a strand of my hair behind my ear. Then I got closer, inches away from his face. My hand grabbed the back of his hair. "I wanted to take a further step today, so I came prepared with this lingerie, Chris. What do you think?" I licked my lips as I waited for his response. "I think that pretty body should fuck me, mommy" I gasped at his words and he grabbed my head and started kissing me rough and passionate.

I finally removed my panties and positioned myself on top of his cock, playfully putting my soaking folds on the tip of his dick, still not going all in. "God, i-if you..." he catched his breath "if you keep, d-doing this I-" before he finished his sentence I got down putting his dick all in me. We both moaned and as I adjusted myself at his length I started riding him, back and forth. His head falls back against the cushions as you finally take him deep, your slick warmth enveloping every inch of him. His hands come to rest on your thighs, fingers digging in again in sensation too intense to keep still

"You feel so good...so perfect..." he manages through clenched teeth. Both of his hands gripped my hips and I grabbed his shoudler. Then, his own hips started to move in time with yours, meeting each movement. I cry out as I increase my pace, setting an unrelenting rhythm, bouncing on his cock, the lewd sounds of sex filling the room nowavatar. Chris is now also breathless, he's a moaning mess, at my mercy. "Fffuck I'm so close. Keep going" he groans out. I felt his next orgasm building already, by his cock twitching in me. And mine was also coming, my walls started clenching tightly around his cock. "Cum with me, Chris" I moaned out as we both let go. Thick cum filling me up and my own cum coating his cock. I collapsed in his chest, trying to come back from my orgasm

Few seconds went by, and Chris spoke up "You're amazing, God" I slowly looked up at him and smiled. "I love being able to have a Christmas themed sex with you" he winked after his sentence. I giggled and I pulled out and put on my lingerie again, and put his own boxers on. I sat on his lap "You know what? I have a game. Let's both wear our underwear while finishing the movie and however tries to go further loses". He grinned and turned me around, putting himself on top of me. "I think I already lost" he bit his lip as he started kissing my neck...

[ilikekidsshows]

I see what you're getting at, like, everything is nuanced, let's not generalize everyone who uses a specific approach to discussing stories, and so on, but, while I can't be sure of the anon's intentions, my intention with the post was to specifically talk about the refusal to engage with what is going on in the story, what has always been going on, and shutting down emotional reactions to it because they aren't analytical enough.

"Dismissing these kinds of fandom reactions only when they veer into the negative direction showcases the real motivation of the “it’s all just the writing” crowd. I need to dissociate from the show’s story in order to discuss why Marinette is still so beloved by the fandom, because I just can’t feel that way about her anymore. Similarly, the people dissociating from the story in order to explain why fans are disappointed and outraged by the story, can’t see anything worth getting upset about in the show."

I am talking about people who completely disengage from the idea that the show and its protagonist could be in the wrong. Of course there are people who still enjoy the show while feeling it needs some changes in its very makeup. But there are also people who refuse to see the problems as anything other "temporary bad writing", who think we just have to watch longer and the show will be good again.

I'm a writer myself. I have a master's degree in English literature. I know how to engage with writing in an analytical way, and have, in fact, done so over several of the things I also complain about. However, I'm also a member of the audience, and I watch and read stories to experience feelings. If a story fails to invoke specific feelings in me, it's failed as a story, same thing if I'd eaten food I didn't enjoy. I don't need to say "use this specific amount of these seasonings" to get that across, I can just say "there was too much ginger". Like, yeah, the former is more useful to the cook, but I'm not saying this stuff to the cook/writers, or even to the fans who say stuff like "Marinette is just a victim of bad writing and not wanting to see her own screen is wrong because of that". I'm saying this to the people reading my blog, who are also annoyed at seeing this stuff and want to vent.

Simply put, I am done with constantly excusing this show. New followers who are here only for my salt phase don't know this, but I used to defend this show so hard before the retool. I granted Marinette's character so much grace and good faith because I could see what the show was going for, only for the writers to increase those aspects of Marinette's character that I had to excuse in order to enjoy her on screen. This hasn't happened with any other character to this degree, except Chloé, who I was never that attached to, so I don't think it's hypocritical when I claim Marinette specifically has been made unenjoyable as a character, because I can't even watch past episodes with her, without seeing those character flaws that would later be glorified after the retool, because, as I said in the beginning, Marinette's character hasn't changed, the narrative around her character has.

Sure, I could write a hundred essays on how I think Miraculous' story could be more engaging, how it could more easily invoke the feelings I don't feel while watching it. But, at this point, what is the point? I don't feel like jumping through Marinette-shielding hoops again in order to engage in discussions with the fandom proper. I'm done with that. I feel like it doesn't matter how kindly or analytically anyone picks apart this show, because nothing is going to change. It's so hard to care about that kind of stuff anymore. I'm just tired, disappointed and angry and I'm dealing with it by ranting angrily. I'm pretty sure the same applies to my anons. There's a reason I call this blog a support group. It's tongue-in-cheek, but accurate. We're all just trying to cope in our own ways.

I get that alot of people go with the approach of "every Miraculous character is deeply screwed by the writers, so it's a writing problem" but at this point this feels like deflecting from the real problem

No shit stories and their characters are written by writers, but so many blogs I see now that go with that approach imo keep on dismissing the point of the problems people are pissed about because "well the characters aren't real, so I'm superior for saying it's the writers fault"

Guys, we KNOW they are fictional characters, you're not unique. But what is happening is that I get less and less out of the analysis posts from these blogs because they're beating around the damn bush especially when it comes to Marinette.

Yes, every character is screwed by the writing but Marinette has been retooled into the self-serving center of the universe who gets by though damn technicalities. This writing pattern is 2 disastrous seasons in, SHE IS THE PROBLEM.

You can try and sugarcoat that however you like by saying that Marinette is a fictional character so its the writers fault, but that doesn't change that Marinette's CHARACTER & WRITING is still the source of all the problems and that stories are being told to get emotional reactions. That's the entire purpose of a story.

No, I don't think people are doing it right by approaching all of Miraculous on a mere meta level. That's not how a story is supposed to be read. The meta level is an additional one on top of the emotional one, not the "rational way" to consume media.

And imo the analysis blogs I see around so much deliver less and less analysis posts I can do anything with. They are so caught up in explaining that the characters aren't to blame but the writers that they sideline why people are feeling the way they do.

There is this persistent dissonance in their posts about how apparently no amount of bad writing can change a character when that's just... objectively incorrect. Marinette for example is SUPPOSED to be compassionate and a thoughtful hero and partner/ leader to Cat Noir. Marinette in Canon though by this point is straight up NOT anymore.

But in their posts it's basically said that if people say that, then that makes them irrational because on a meta level the execution and effect of the writing is apparently irrelevant. Distant meta is king and the only rational way to engage with this story.

And I just don't see the point in that.

The outcome and the emotional effect of the writing is what actually matters. Not the intention behind it (no wonder people are using that excuse to defend Marinette's character. It's another variant of "but she MEANT well"). If Marinette is by now a toxic and even abusive partner and leader to be suck with, then that's the fucking damage the writing did. And said damage is DONE. That's her character NOW. Talk about the theory behind it however you like, the character CONCEPT is not Canon compliant anymore, and nothing is gonna change that besides facing the deeply rooted damage that has been done, analysing those on an EMOTIONAL level so you can then course correct the CANON character through the necessary development into becoming what the character was initially supposed to be.

Call me a dick, but just saying "the characters aren't real" is not a productive way of going about this dumpster fire anymore.

---

Another thing to take into account about the “it’s just bad writing” approach is that, like, it’s not like the way Marinette herself is being written has changed that much. What changed is how the narrative and other characters react to her and her behavior. Marinette has always been self-important, self-serving and self-obsessed, but these used to be treated as character flaws, signs of her immaturity and naivete she’d need to grow out of. Now we’re being told she’s flawless, actually, and has never done anything wrong ever and none of her mistakes were her fault. 

Like, I’ve recently been familiarizing myself more with the “my dear diary” teen drama genre, and it really is more of a dramedy genre if anything. Most of these series will have a self-important, self-serving and self-obsessed protagonist and the entire narrative is filtered through their self-centered world-view, because we’re basically reading their diary where they vent about things that annoy or excite them. Now comes the kicker: the “comedy” of the dramedy comes from how comically over the top these protagonists are when they clearly and obviously misrepresent their lives and themselves to the audience. Miraculous is leaning very heavily into this downright selfish protagonist archetype, but actually wants you to agree with the protagonist when you can see, with your own eyes, because this is a different medium, that the world isn’t nearly as unfair to our protagonist as she claims.

Here’s another kicker: if you aren’t laughing at the joke or projecting yourself onto the protagonist, you’re most likely gonna hate the protagonist of most “my dear diary” books. They tend to be the most opinion-splitting characters in their own fandoms, with readers either loving them or outright despising them.

Dismissing these kinds of fandom reactions only when they veer into the negative direction showcases the real motivation of the “it’s all just the writing” crowd. I need to dissociate from the show’s story in order to discuss why Marinette is still so beloved by the fandom, because I just can’t feel that way about her anymore. Similarly, the people dissociating from the story in order to explain why fans are disappointed and outraged by the story, can’t see anything worth getting upset about in the show. They think it’s all okay. They’re not approaching the show purely logically, they are still emotionally invested, they still like the show. Of course the seemingly logical approach to fandom unrest seems to just be defending Marinette and the show, because it is.

It’s basically a way to retreat from the criticism. Like, the accusations of Marinette being a stalker used to be easily sidelined with “it’s just a joke you don’t like” until they made it a sign of canonical mental instability. It was a way to say: "this is a silly thing to be upset about". Now we’re sidelining the abuse apologia with “it’s just bad writing, that’s not what Marinette’s character is”. What these people are actually saying is: “she’s made up, so my made up version of Marinette in my head didn’t do that.” Like, when you have to deny canon exists, your analysis isn’t analysis anymore; it’s headcanons at the very least, completely made up at most.

[februarys-wednesday]

i think theyve explored each others bodies

[shhroomer]

Oh, help me God, this hellboy got me coming back for more

reblogs super appreciated !!! close-ups under the cut !

[crookedfivefingers]

3.13 | ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴀꜱᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ʟᴏʀᴅꜱ

link to the post I accidentally wound up prattling endlessly about in the tags 💀

[timtestsdontscareme]

@ofassuredrisk

Fine. We'll agree that Kojo loves us both. We can also agree that I'm glad you decided to take him in. At least this way I get the chance to see him on occasion. {I couldn't argue with the fact that I was glad he's with Tim. I might miss coming home each day to Kojo's wagging tail, but at least I know he's well loved and taken care of by Tim, so that makes me feel better about the whole thing. I silently told myself as I made an attempt to watch this game that Tim was so enamored by} Umm, not really. My parents aren't into football... Or really sports in general. Jackson isn't either, so you're basically the first person to try and speak football to me. {I admitted. No, this didn't look like anything I'd be interested in but while I was here at Tim's place playing babysitter or whatever we're calling it, I might as well see what the appeal is for him} That said, I'm open to you talking football to me... For starters, maybe explaining to me what's actually happening because it looks like a bunch of big guys just running into another bunch of big guys with a ball in their hand. {I said but jumped slightly when I heard Tim yell at the TV screen. Oh yeah, he was definitely a football fan. He gets loud on the job at times... He even yells at times too, but this is a different kind of heated} Like that, exactly what happened that got your boxers in a bunch over? Did they drop the ball or something? {I asked. Sincerely having no idea what was happening right now on the screen. In fact, I was close to just pulling out my phone and scrolling through social media or something to pass the time}

@timtestsdontscareme

The man in charge, the man that followed rules. One after the other, a good head on his shoulders. Tim once said to himself the only one  you can count on is yourself. He knew what it was like to be let down; to not be chosen. His family  wasn’t the picture  perfect, he had his sister, his  father was a man he never wanted to know again. He was a man of action, he put each one of his rookies through hoops and hoops. Angela thought he was nuts; that he was deemed to be a tad crazy. And this is why he always found himself riding the shop on his own. No Rookie had been tough enough to ride out his great Tim tests. 

That was until Lucy Chen was given the shot. She wasn’t afraid to call me out or to show me up. Her very first day I hated to admit but I was impressed. She stood her own ground, she passed each test as if it was second nature to her. Sometimes I felt like she read my mind; our banter tended to balance on its own. Tim was a hard ball never admit when his partner was right; never liked the idea that he might remotely care about her. It all occurred in moments. A moment of care when I put myself on the line I’d rather be the one to be hurt over her. The memory of that house, locked bedroom as I exposed myself to the Virus, I knew what I was doing when I closed the door on Lucy her  shouts of reassurance of asking if I was okay filled my ears. Holding my  breath as I tried to calm the bystander down, the virus was contented in this room. Safe from the world; and I was someone who constantly jumped into the line of fire, it’s who I was. Obviously or I wouldn’t be the cop that I was. Tim was selfless at times, that was only one of the many rare occurrences that he did show up for his partners. 

This time around it was a gun worn down to his head. He flinched at last minute. He remembered trailing the guy down; weapon in hand. Feet molded against the dry pavement. I spoke into my radio, I knew Chen was on the other end, I told her cross over to the other edge; that this ally was a circle. And fingers gripped against the trigger preparing myself as I came to a pause outside the ally, aim at the target; Liam was his name, I remembered the file Angela had clued me in on when we hunted down this guy. “ Lower your weapon.” I shouted the memory clear as day to me. I was about to lower mine when his fingers flinched against his gun; I heard Lucy, she was just arriving attempting to cover her pending breathes. It all happened fast; I saw it; I saw his fingers pressing against the trigger I had this ache in my chest believing Lucy was about to get shot, and I ran like a speed of light. I ran to jump in front and I heard the gun shot, and ultimately yhe bullet pressed against my chest. 

Caught in the line of duty. I cared, I liked to play a game of hard ball but I’d jump in line each time to protect her. Eyes slowly  came to open now as the memories of flashes flickered through my mind. The accident. Eyes adjusted to the light, a loud huff escaped my lips one from being in the hospital again. And from the ached that formed on his abdominal from the bullet that was freshly removed. A groan heard as he tried to bite down on his lower lip, eyes finding its way to a sleeping Lucy tucked into the chair, her legs folded under her frame as her elbow kept her head up. Had she stayed all night? 

Brows pushed together; as his  hues lingered almost fixated. He told himself he’d let her rest; he knew Lucy she was feeling the weight of this case of my shooting, she probably hadn’t slept in hours..

[sskk-manifesto]

Bungou Stray Dogs: Dead Apple and how “ability users” (opposite to “normal people”) learning to accept themselves through the acceptance of their own abilities is a queer metaphor of acceptance of own's sexual orientation and gender: an essay by me