#and her only criteria while i was suggesting ones i know was ''i want one thats funny''

[chip-and-the-bastards]

I AM SO HYPED I COULD POTENTIALLY CONVINCE MY SISTER TO LISTEN TO JRWI RIPTIDE LETS GOOO!!!!!

[xxknockoutxx]

ahhh I understand, I’m glad you replied to my request though! can you simply just make reader a childhood friend of Isagi but the scenario is that reader wants to have her first kiss with Isagi because she trusts him and secretly has a big crush on him?

✦ 𝐈𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮. (𝐅𝐭. 𝐘. 𝐈𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢)

Syn: You need your first kiss according to your friends by you only trust one person

Pairings: Yoichi Isagi x Reader.

A/N: sorry about the rushed ending I already took farr too long to make this so yeah

This was one of the nights you would dream of, hanging out with your friends and doing things that you probably shouldn't but who gives a fuck really? The night was starting to get rather grey before one of your friends suggested truth or dare.

Overused? Sure. But it worked, the room was bustling with chatter before it was your turn.

"Truth or dare Y/N?"

You tilted your head to the side as in you were thinking hard about this simple choice.

"Hmmm, Truth"

"Okay! Whose the first boy you've kissed?"

Damn, She got you. The room was quiet and at first your friends got excited because they thought silence was thinking, as in you missed so many guys you can't remember. But no, it was stalling and it wasn't helping anything.

"I... I um, actually never kissed a dude before"

The room was quiet again before a loud surge basically shattered your ears. Things like "WHAT!? Y/N YOU'RE DROP DEAD GORGEOUS HOWWW" Or "That's a lie, you're not lying, right?" Or... "Ha. Loser" Just what you needed on an already exhausting night.

"I'm being serious! I just never really... Y'know..."

Two of your friends eyed you suspiciously before whispering amongst themselves.

"Okay, well Y/N if you were going to have your first kiss right now and you could pick anyone, who would it be with?".

There was another pause but this one seemed more acceptable. Your mind searched through all of its core memories to find a person who could fit the criteria for your first kiss. They have to have decent looks, a nice reputation and personality and basic love for you.

You could only think of one person that could meet all those standards. Your friend; Yoichi Isagi.

"Well I guess I would have to go with Yoichi Isagi, I mean he's stuck to my side for a few years."

Your friends quietly searched the memory for any sight or interaction with this kid.

"Ohhh you mean that kid on the soccer team?" One of your friends jumped up as they heard the origin of the mysterious kid.

"Oh! Yeah I remember now. He's a cute one" your other friend shouted out, clearly not caring who was in the room listening to her.

"Yeah, heh..." You say while subconsciously staring daggers at your friend.

"Y/N!!! Tell your friends that their parents are here!"

Everyone kinda heard themselves so they all emptied the room themselves. You waved goodbye to everyone and got ready to go to bed.

As the day started up again all you could think about was the events that transpired last night. It only got worse when you heard that sweet, sweet voice...

"Hey! Y/N! How you didn't think you could escape me for another second of the day, did you?"

No.... Of course not. I mean the huge soccer playing, all seeing menace definitely would've found me anyway with those eyes and that brain of his.

"Why have you been avoiding me? Is it because of that game? I know it was sorta, kinda, bad for me but at least we won"

"No, no it's not the game I.... I just had a huge night"

"wanna talk about it?"

"...Later" You say dismissively.

Gosh he was hot... Did he always look at you with that passion in his eyes? No! This is your Best friend! You can't do that to him... You don't like him you're being silly.... But he's so damn cute, such nice lips, such a nice smile.. and that feral smirk he gets on the field.

You were kinda nervous about talking to him later, even though it was just your friend Isagi, it didn't feel so innocent anymore especially when you have thoughts like this going through your head. It doesn't matter that much though... You'll just talk when you guys talk... Nothing will go.... Wrong?

"You like me Y/N!?" Isagi questioned with a red face that's seeking validation.

"w-what!? Where the hell did you learn that information!?"

"From Y/F"

Damn it, your friend, the one person you thought you could trust ratted you out. You swore that when you saw them again it was up.

"I... I...." You couldn't even form sentences, what the fuck!? Your friend just snitched on you!

"I also heard from a little birdie that you wanted a certain blue eyed guy with a passion for talking shit and making goals to fulfill the honor of giving you your first kiss."

"Damn, that bitch can't keep her mouth shut for shit!"

He laughs lightheartedly before grabbing your hands and bringing you closer to him. He brushes your hair from your face and that feral look and his eyes were replaced with something much more soft and tame.

"I like you too Y/N, so much in fact that I might just give you more than just a kiss that you've been so desperately seeking"

He shared that same warm smile before pulling you close by your waist and planting a warm kiss on your soft lips, you kinda just melted into him and he did the same, it became sloppy pretty fast. You guys didn't even see that anyone could've just walked by and saw you guys.

When you guys finally separated to catch your breath he leaned his forehead on yours and chuckled before grabbing your hand and pulling you into his arms.

"I've wanted to do that for a while... Also I won't forgive you for holding out on me" There's the Isagi you remember. He's still in there somewhere?

[karespocketboyfriends]

𝙸𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚝𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚍

Prologue

A Love and Deepspace Fanfiction (Sylus x OC)

Warnings -> None needed

An original fan-fiction for Love and Deepspace. I appreciate reblogs but reposting to Tumblr or any other site is not okay with me.

A/N: This is a redo of the prologue I posted a few days ago. After catching up on the new Luke & Kieran lore, I decided to alter things a bit to make the character relationships more accurate.

Boredom is dangerous for crow masked twins Luke and Kieran.

“Do you know what the boss needs?” Luke asks, not looking up from the tower of ice cubes he’s stacking.

Kieran’s hands pause on the handmade dart he’s crafting. He takes a moment to think of what their boss, the head of Onychinus, could possibly need but not already have. “A stress ball?”

“A girlfriend.”

Beneath his mask, Kieran blinks in surprise. He tries to imagine what the boss would be like in love, but he can’t picture it. It makes Luke’s implication all the more entertaining.

Kieran sets the half finished dart aside and leans his weight forward, folding his arms on the table. “Huh, you’re right. Boss does need a girlfriend, but where are we gonna find him one?”

Luke places the last cube on the top of his tower. "It can’t be that hard. There are women everywhere.”

“Boss isn’t going to fall for just any woman. He needs someone he can trust. Someone who won’t stick a knife in his back when he’s sleeping.”

“Fine, fine. You’re right, not just any woman will do.” Leaning back in his chair, Luke crosses one leg over his knee and rubs his chin. “So he needs someone trustworthy, but we should also find someone on the sunny side to break his ice cold exterior. Anything else?”

Kieran taps his finger on the table as he thinks. “Someone fearless. It won’t do Boss any good if his lover is afraid of him.”

Hearing ‘Boss’ lover’ out loud sends the twins into a fit of mischievous cackles. They continue throwing criteria back and forth, the list of attributes for Sylus’ ideal woman growing longer and longer. For instance, Luke suggests someone with a fun side that will aid them in pranking the boss, while Kieran recommends someone sincere who won’t only love him for his money and power. By the end of their list, both young men are doubled over the table, holding their stomachs as they laugh.

“What were we thinking? We’ll never find someone like that in the N109 Zone.” Luke says, wiping an invisible tear from his mask’s eye.

Kieran chuckles and playfully shakes his head. “Looks like Boss will have to live out his days alone.”

The twins fall back into a comfortable silence, Luke beginning the construction of a second ice cube tower while Kieran goes back to making his darts.

A minute passes before they both freeze. They look up, right at each other, both coming to realize the same thing.

There is someone who fits the criteria. Someone trustworthy and extremely loyal to those she loves. Someone optimistic enough to brighten the ever dark N109 Zone. Someone who would be too busy trying to find the good in him that she wouldn’t fear him so easily. Someone with wit who fit right in with the twins and their sense of humour. Someone sincere, who never asked for anything in return when she helped someone because she simply wanted to.

Someone who isn’t built for the N109 Zone, yet has managed to survive here for twenty-three years.

“Evie!”

The old bell above the bookshop's door, too old to work anymore, is silent as a woman steps out into the dark, frost kissed streets. She rubs her gloved hands together before shoving them into her pockets, the material barely thick enough to do any good against the cold.

Easing down the stone steps, she starts the short journey home. There isn't anyone to walk with her tonight, so she has no choice but to brave it alone. Not that she hasn't done so before.

She only makes it a single block before the cellphone in her crossbody purse rings and startles a murder of crows into taking flight. She curses under her breath and rushes to answer it, silently scolding herself for forgetting to put it on silent. When walking alone, it's best not to draw attention to oneself.

Pressing the phone against her ear, she turns and presses her back against the wall of the closed mechanic shop she had been passing. When walking alone, one must be careful not to get distracted. "Hi, you two."

The streetlamp closest to her flickers, the lightbulb fighting to stay alive.

"Right now?" She pulls the phone away briefly to check the time. "It's a little late for that, don't you think?"

Above, a curtain of clouds close over the silver moon, casting an even grander darkness over the city.

The woman sighs. "Okay, I'll be there soon."

She tucks the phone back into her purse and changes course. Looks like she won't be returning home to get cozy with a book just yet.

Masterlist

Chapter 1 ->

[abirddogmoment]

What resources would you recommend for someone (me) who wants to properly train & improve recall with a dog who has high prey drive She's very food motivated and normally very good, but if she sees a rabbit she usually chases it & the scent until she can't run anymore, which is (obviously) bad and dangerous and very not good. We've tried a couple of different things after talking with the vet, and she has definitely improved, but she doesn't prioritise recall over everything else (rabbits, peeing, pooping, getting water) so I'm looking for more things to try from people who are passionate about animal training.

Hi! I'm not really passionate about animal training, I just like my dog.

I don't have any specific resources, I'm sorry. I've talked about recall training here. Here is a quick notes of what I would suggest with the extremely limited information in your ask:

- Don't let your dog chase rabbits. Keep her on leash when you are in areas with rabbits and find secure rabbit-free areas to run her offleash instead.

- Practice engagement in easier environments. You probably don't need her to prioritize her recall (behaviour), but to prioritize you.

- Lower your criteria, especially at this point in time. I would never expect my dog to prioritize recall (a taught behaviour) over drinking water (an instinct she needs to survive). Don't recall her if you know she needs to drink/pee/poop and won't come right away.

- Give her hunting outlets. Get some rabbit hide and drag it so she can track and chase it. Bring her to a secure area and let her free and don't ask her to do a single thing while she's running.

- Remember that the behaviours you see online are only a tiny, tiny, TINY snippet of what a day with that dog looks like. You see Rory offleash in photos and videos, but you don't see the 15,000 high value treats she's gotten in the last year. And on that note:

- Try different treats. For something hard like a recall, you probably want something SUPER good. Try sardines, rotisserie chicken, pepperoni, or stinky cheese. Use relatively big pieces, you want her to have to chew it so she actually tastes it.

It's hard to give advice without knowing what you've done already, but hopefully these tips will point you in the right direction. There are lots of dog trainers on Tumblr but I am not one of them. Good luck though!

[seyaryminamoto]

Fic-to-Art #38: Ozai carries Azula to the physicians' wing

This has been done for A WHILE now, but I didn't post it because the past days have been chaotic and not just on a personal level. For one thing, I really wasn't eager to drop this when people were losing their shit massively over the liveaction and its recontextualization of Azula and Ozai's dynamics, I didn't look forward to releasing this just to be told that whatever I've done in my story is somehow wrong, sooooooooo... that held me back, for a few days.

Then? The AI-Tumblr deal started to be talked about and I may or may not have freaked out about that too. Sooo... this is the first glazed and nightshaded piece of my creation, as consequence. The original, clean and proper version is available in my Patreon. Is this me being a dick to Tumblr-only people? Unfortunately, it very much isn't, I'm not trying to say that if you want the best iterations of my art, you should pay me for it... this is squarely, entirely, at staff/the CEO's feet. Obviously, there's the insecure side of me that goes "what makes you think they'd steal YOUR art when there are so many better artists out there!" but ultimately? AI is about taking everything en masse. It isn't a matter of developing a criteria about who makes the better art... it's just taking EVERYTHING and trying to repurpose it in whatever twisted way it needs to. Therefore? I think my choice is more of a matter of caution than anything else. Once AI bullshit dies out (and I really hope it does), we may just return to the same level of quality across all my accounts. For now, it is what it is.

ANYWAY! Point is this artwork is very much what my Patrons happened to vote for this month, a very shocking scene where Ozai reacted in the least foreseen way to Azula being attacked. Azula's confusion/terror comes from a place of not knowing what to do and being powerless to stop her father even if she doesn't feel comfortable with his help... but for once, Ozai isn't making a dreadful choice that will only devastate his daughter. He's actually worried about her health... and feeling genuine guilt over what landed her in the situation where she was in danger in the first place. Yes. I like me my complex Ozai who finally learned actions have consequences. He bores me to death otherwise :') if anyone STILL doesn't know that this whole situation is Gladiator-specific, then I shall clarify fully: this is artwork based on my fic. It's about a story that has been developing these characters for ALMOST ELEVEN YEARS now. It has nothing to do with whatever's going on in canon or in the liveaction, the scene in question was written almost two years ago and the artwork proposed and voted for several days before the liveaction aired. Ergo: there is no connection between this and that. Nor am I saying through this piece that Ozai is a good father. He is not. He can still be an interesting character to work with on a narrative level anyway :')

Alright. With that out of the way, hope you guys like this piece! The big one I haven't posted is ALSO finished, also glazed and nightshaded, but I think I might just end up posting it on the 26th if I don't have time to do anything big for our eleventh anniversary... yep, I'm so busy I don't even have a huge project in mind this time. Also? I have a lot to write and I'm finally happily writing it, and I would like to continue doing that...

Anyway! If you would like to be part of the creative process behind this piece, as well as see it in its proper, OG, less color-bleeding clunky version? A $1 Patreon pledge gives you the chance to join in suggesting prompts, voting for them and reading Gladiator snippets 6 days before a new chapter is released!

[abybweisse]

Ch197 (p5), Ginny's going to fledge

Well, Finny and Snake seem to think Artie's a boy. So Idk 🤷🏻‍♀️ And Snake's snakes have him talking about himself in third person... negatively.

Anyway, that matron shows up looking for Susan... to whisper something to her.

It's obviously serious news, not something happy, but then Susan puts on this overly enthusiastic expression to make the announcement.

Most of the kids look excited for her, including Daniel, who must also be a bit envious. In fact, those floating puffy sparkles suggest there's more envy than happiness. Oliver and Artie have more genuine... worried... reactions.

Finny recalls that Ginny was crying earlier that day and also realizes she's not the oldest student there. So, what's the actual criteria for fledging? I have a developing theory that if you are deemed to not fit well enough, you might get fledged out just to be drained of blood. The absolute best fits are kept a while longer, making them better for potential soul transplants later. Doll will get blood from Ginny instead of "wasting" the top student in the Corgi class. This suggests that the Pomeranian fledged earlier might have just been a blood source. (Though a soul source who is destined to fail is also still a possibility.)

This news has got Oliver so upset that he's forgotten about the orange peels on the cast iron stovetop, and they've started to burn. BTW, what is he carrying? A spatula with one slot in it? Some sort of candy thermometer?? 🤷🏻‍♀️

The staff is making such a big deal of the fledging being a happy occasion, reinforcing the idea that students should want to fledge. But when we see those puff ball sparkles, we know there's something off about it. Forced emotions. They are just putting on a show.

And Oliver isn't the only one who's taking this news as something serious, perhaps ominous. I don't think Oliver and Artie are envious or jealous of Ginny. I think they are terrified for her... and for themselves. And Finny, who has shown to be very observant (since ch1!), takes notice. Snake not quite so much. He looks genuinely happy for Ginny.

Finny and Snake need some time this evening or overnight to discuss what's really happening, so they can figure out how to save her. Or at least try. I'm hoping one of these others -- Artie, Oliver, or Theo -- can help them figure out what's really going on here.

[dappersheep]

Putting this down here as more my own note taking about the Desire Tavern members popping up here and there after the Brandy event. Specifically after that event because they were part of the main roster and appeared quite frequently. Mind you, this is also littered with speculations and some headcanon stuff.

It's also interesting to note that Spaghetti seems to be interested in the whereabouts of the "Wheel of Time", though of course he's just one of many parties interested in that artifact, whether as pieces or as a whole. It's still unknown what he needs it for, or if he's tracking it down for someone else (Whiskey comes to mind). The intention is up in the air and knowing Funtoy's current state of affairs, I'll assume I'll never get closure on that front (amongst other things).

In the Kiviak event, Stargazey Pie arrived at the Dragon Lair on Spaghetti's information that the "Wheel of Time"… at least one of its shards, would make an appearance there. She buys some jewelry that catches her eye from Red Velvet, who after finding out Stargazey is interested in the 'shards', leads her to the Auction part of the building.

As it's a sidestory and Stargazey doesn't show up in the event's conclusion nor in any other sidestory thereafter, we'll assume she was only able to gather information for Spaghetti. It's also unknown if her original intention was to buy the Wheel of Time's shard, or simply to observe and confirm what happens to it.

As a side note, Stargazey looks to have matured a little more with her lines. She still fancies pretty things (including hands) and wants to have them, but her spoiled nature seems to have been curbed and doesn't throw a tantrum when she can't have something. I guess Spaghetti and the rest of the girls have been somewhat of a positive influence in that area.

The next appearance is in Kaiserschmarrn's event. Spaghetti and Oyster make an appearance (my heart!) as a response to a peculiar letter that arrived at their tavern begging for them to rescue the children from the circus. As context, that letter was penned by a young girl who befriended one of the circus children since the circus child didn't know how to write. That same young girl told the child about the wish granting tavern in Nevras and offered to get her wish out to be rescued.

In the duo's conversation, Spaghetti claims they both came here out of curiosity despite, as Oyster pointed out, that the wish did not comply with their rules. This suggests that any time they receive a wish that did not follow their criteria, it would be left unanswered. And yet interestingly, they answered this one 'out of curiosity' and even Oyster decided to come along when children became a factor, per Spaghetti's words.

'Circus children, customers of various backgrounds... With a little imagination, it could be a crime thriller. Maybe we'll even catch a few nobles while we're at it.'

This line causes me some confusion, more specifically the last one. Putting aside possible sub-par translation, Spaghetti's probably thinking they could catch some ne'er do well nobles in some atrocious acts if they uncover something nasty. So they're still doing their vigilante stuff... ah, Spaghetti, keep being the villain that you are.

Though the sidestory ends with both of them seeing Beer terrorizing a child with his insistent singing. A very random way to end this, especially since there's not even a cliffhanger to this with Beer noticing the two Food Souls at all. Funtoy, wtf?

Add to that, the main event again has none of them popping up. And the one sidestory that acts as an epilogue for the children and Feijoada's fates... doesn't tell me what happens to the children.

Feijoada was offered rescue by a mysterious man— That's just Baklava I'm certain by what little I know about other FS connections, and it cuts there.

Now I'm hoping that it means Baklava helps Feijoada and the children get to town. But that now leaves the subject of whether Spaghetti and Oyster decided to drop their curious pursuit or they'll do something about the children. There's also the matter of Beer appearing within Oyster and Spaghetti's proximity, and from what I do know from Oyster's bio, Beer definitely doesn't hold Spaghetti in high regard but who knows? Spaghetti is probably a necessary evil at this point for certain things to go 'correctly' for this timeline to achieve a good ending (see SP Beer bio, and also see SP B52 bio for what happens if Spaghetti strays off his purpose as a lynchpin for the Desire Tavern existing). So basically it's vague enough that I can just think of something and it will just fill in the gaps.

Insofar, that's all of the current appearances. I'll have to keep an eye on things to see where else they show up but honestly I'm just here to find as many Spaghetti crumbs as possible.

[ambyandony]

Cloud Nine Contrails: Main Protagonist; Limbo Adkins

Context for Cloud Nine Contrails

Limbo Adkins

(リ��ボ・アドキンス Rinbo Adokinsu) ✈ 17 years old ☮ female, she/her ☮ ~ 160.02 cm (5'3") ☮ Metro Popper ✈

Modified transcription of above profile:

Could be a distant relative of the Joestars, but there's really no evidence to suggest it, so who knows? She's never been shown with the star birthmark, but she's never been shown without it, either.

Though her father is Japanese and her mother an Englishwoman, Limbo was technically born American, even if she doesn't consider herself as one. Due to her parentage and upbringing, she speaks Japanese and English as a native bilingual.

Similarly to her brother, Limbo's Stand potential and face birthmark were apparently inherited maternally; their father is the only non-Stand User in the immediate family although he's well aware of what Stands are.

Her parents are separated; she lives in Detroit with her Standless father while her older brother and mother live somewhere in Europe, supposedly Eastern France, near the Italian border.

A rising indie musician, but works under a pseudonym online and only ever performs behind the anonymity of a full-face mask, so nobody really knows it's her.

Diagnosed with and medicated for ADHD-C. Has undiagnosed anxiety. Goes to therapy but what the fuck am I supposed to tell my therapist about stand-related issues??? Fuckin'... guess I'll take it to the grave!

Vastly knowledgeable about aviation and aerodynamics. Has a long-standing hyperfixation on aircraft.

Never wanted to end up in a gang, but it's not like she can just leave…

Still in high school. It's hard juggling crime, classwork and Stand conflict, even harder when you're trying to keep your dad out of it.

Limbo lives with her now-single father Tategoto and their puppy Kumori. Her mother, Aurelie-Adele, and her brother, Josh, live in Europe.

Coloured and uncoloured full body references, back and front; profile and 3/4ths view headshots!

Abbreviated personality description from my wiki page for her:

"Limbo is a typically soft-spoken and well-meaning individual. She has a gentle demeanour but chaotic sense of humour ... typically abstract ... [and] borderline Dadaistic. ... [When] put under large amounts of stress, she tries to twist the situation into some form of comedy.

She's incredibly insecure, but rarely speaks about it ... [A] large part [of her insecurity] can be attributed to ... rejection-sensitive dysphoria. ...

She is incredibly modest and polite, sometimes to a fault. ... She is overly apologetic ... be the wrongdoing minor or major, real or perceived, or not her fault at all ... [as] a result of her anxiety ...

She generally likes her privacy ... [to] the point of [wearing a] mask ... to keep her "work" and "personal life" separate. ... [She] doesn't want to be associated with the Metro Poppers any more than she has to.

Though capable of ... and having enacted it on multiple occasions, she greatly dislikes [violence] ... only [harming] others in retaliation and under extreme distress. She seems ... [like] a pushover and ... [as] she's settled into the position, putting her foot down isn't an easy task ...".

why yes, i did just discover the joy of ... and [ ] in quotations!

Design notes for Limbo to help me stay on model! dont mind the gap at the bottom i overestimated how much blank space i needed and also I ran out of things to write. same applies to all of these pictures

「Cloud Nine」

Cloud Nine - Stand of Limbo Adkins

Modified transcription of above profile:

Cloud Nine's ability is to detect, disrupt and disconnect signals. A signal can be defined as an intangible and invisible connection (generally) between two or more things. Cloud Nine's ability applies to anything that is considered a signal or can be defined as a signal by that criteria, be it mechanical, organic, or anything else. It takes the form of a small plane, reminiscent of a drone in size, resembling a commercial jet liner with a few minor elements of a fighter jet. It's not combat oriented, nor is it really suitable for combat, as it's not armed with much beyond a single rotary turret hidden by the central landing gear, which can only wound superficially. It cannot--or at least generally does not--create new signals other than communication signals by radio wave.

Power - C

Speed - S

Potential - A

Range - A

Durability - D

Precision - C

not that stand stats mean anything-

Modified transcript:

Cloud Nine combines elements of a fighter jet and a commercial jet liner. Specifically, the Airbus A320 and the F-18 Super Hornet.

Cloud Nine is similar in concept to Aerosmith, it is a small, roughly toy-sized plane. Beyond that, there are few similarities.

It's a jet, so it uses turbines to fly, meaning propellers would be obsolete and, given its sleeker design, would only get in the way of any artillery. However, it's very lacking in armaments, possessing only one small rotary turret underneath it by the landing gear. Because of this lack of firepower, it possesses a set of propellers to function specifically as a weapon, doing more significant damage than the turrets can.

It does not appear to have propellers, because the propellers typically retract into the nose, and only emerge when they're needed as a weapon.

...It does disrupt its ability to fly if any "viscera" gets caught in its blades, however, so there's a good chance it needs to be cleaned off sometimes. It's a bit gross.

There's a little shadow visible through either windscreen, and it does seem to move sometimes, but it's not clear if this is just a visual effect or an actual entity.

It has two cockpits, one as intended for commercial aircraft and the other as intended for military aircraft. It also features a false canopy on the bottom, which only mirrors the upper cockpit.

For reference, Cloud Nine is a bit smaller than Aerosmith, up to around half of Aerosmith's size, but it may just look that way largely because it's a lot sleeker.

It has antennae-like protrusions underwing on the ends of both wings. These have an indicator light attached to the tips. The antennae are by default retracted and unlit, but when its ability is in use, the antennae extend and the lights switch on. The lights display green when detecting or restoring signals, and red when disrupting or disconnecting them.

Cloud Nine has a headset. Whenever the Stand is summoned, this headset typically appears already over Limbo's ears, or around her neck. It's a fair-quality over-ear aviation headset with good noise reduction as well as a movable boom mic, facilitating two-way communication. When giving orders to her Stand, Limbo speaks to it through the mic.

Interestingly, Cloud Nine actually shows a degree of sentience and is also capable of actually speaking, which is pretty rare for Stands (presumably all Stands can telepathically communicate (or facilitate their Users to do so) but only a few are able to speak non-telepathically, like Spice Girl, Sex Pistols, and Whitesnake); however, it can only speak through the headset. Anyone who can put the headset on can hear and communicate with the Stand, not just Limbo.

It's very rude, though, especially to Limbo herself, and it always sounds like it's yelling. The starts and ends of transmissions are usually marked by a sound like a walkie-talkie.

It relays signal information to Limbo through the headset as dynamic auditory indicators and coordinate info, which Limbo is able to visualise as a sort of "radar grid" to easily determine where and what signals are. It's an effective system Limbo has acclimated to and mastered over time. So, to anyone else, the report is nigh indecipherable.

Another defence mechanism is the ability to spread thick clouds from its contrails, creating areas of low visibility and dense air that's hard to breathe. How it pulls this off isn't made explicitly clear, but in theory, it manipulates some kind of chemical-environmental signals that are meant to dissipate clouds as would normally happen, causing the vapour to condense. Limbo jokingly refers to it as 'making a cloud nine'.

[mapleleafsunset]

I'm thinking about Leafpool's trial in Squirrelflight's hope again, because whilst it's a stupid concept, it's actually very impactful and sticks in my brain the most from that entire book. I love the way it shows StarClan's hypocrisy, but I do think that it needs a bit of a reworking with what cats are involved in it

Currently the cats who take part are : Tallstar, Bluestar, Yellowfang, Moth Flight, Crookedstar and Littlecloud My first changes would be to remove some cats entirely from this line up, and my first removal would be Crookedstar. He is no reason to be there, no connection to the code that are broken, and no personal connection to the Firestar lineage. Tallstar is removed for the exact same reasons. He doesn't need to be there, there's no emotional beat he can add. For similar reasons I'd remove Littlecloud. He's a medicine cat so does have more ties to the codes broken, however he feels a weird pick especially as he is portrayed as antagonistic, which is entirely against his character. He doesn't seem like someone to want that position of power either, I think it would be nice to see him in StarClan but his involvement in the trial doesn't make sense.

This brings us down to Bluestar, Yellowfang, Moth Flight. Now, we need to add some cats to fill out the ranks again. Which brings us to the question of how they were chosen in the first place, and I'll break this down into two criteria : - High ranking (leader, medicine cat, clan founder) - Would want to be involved If it was just based on how long the cats had been in StarClan and their ties to the code, then the cats holding the trial would be the Clan founders. So there must be an element of cats who have an active interest in the trial get involved. My suggestions for replacement cats are : - Oakstar - Goosefeather - Duststar - Hollyleaf Oakstar is a cat who despises cross clan relationships, and general code breaking. He's a known asshole, who relies on harsh punishments. He seems the sort of cat who wants to involve himself in everyone's business, and would still hold a grudge from the Mapleshade situation. He would be all for sending Leafpool to hell Goosefeather is a bit of a wild card in the situation. I like to imagine that in StarClan he gets himself involved in almost everything. He would flick what side he was on randomly throughout the conversation so no one could really tell what his viewpoint was. Duststar. Duststar is the cat who created the code that bans CrossClan relationships, because cats in his clan died due to their relationships with other clans. However, I believe he'd be all for Leafpool. He's there to contrast Moth Flight who wants to enforce her rule with an iron fist. He understands that Leafpool did wrong, but no one got hurt in the same way he experienced, so in his mind the code is void here. Hollyleaf would not be an official part of the trial, however I think she would barge her way in. I just want to see more of her I'm a big Hollyleaf fan. I think Leafpool would freeze up at seeing her, thinking that Hollyleaf would want to condemn her, but I'd like to give Hollyleaf a chance to properly show her forgiveness after death as well. So we have the line up as In support of Leafpool : Yellowfang, Duststar, Hollyleaf (eventually) Against Leafpool : Duststar, Oakstar, Moth Flight, Bluestar (I LOVE the depiction of her as a hypocrite here. It stays. She is eventually convinced to join the other side but it takes a while) Wild card : Goosefeather (they should ban this man from these meetings) I don't know. I just feel like Tallstar, Crookedstar and Littlecloud have no real emotional stakes in it, when the trial is really a chance for cats to air their own grievances with the code or the way that StarClan functions. It's clear no one cares about Leafpool's situation and only wants to insist on their views, so I feel like we should drag up some old bitter cats to highlight that. The contrast between Duststar and Moth Flight would also be an incredibly fun debate about the harsh nature of the code.

[alivehouse]

(While sending this ask I've accidentally found out what cool wallpapers (literally) you have on your desktop blog theme.)

Well, good day, my dearest horror podcast Virgil,

I, surprisingly to myself, actually finished "I am in Eskew" and enjoyed it quite a bit (which, I guess, could have been deduced by how much I spammed in the tag) even more surprisingly, considering I'm absolutely not a horror person - I substitute horror movies with their wikipedia retellings. Unironically.

Anyway, firstly, thank you! I definitely would have never discovered it without your recommendations!

Secondly, maybe you have something else like that stashed up your sleeve? I definitely need some time to recuperate, but I would like to explore more cool podcasts. (The only two limitations: short-ish - not much longer than this one, the view of a hundred+ episodes scares me; not gorier than this one/no actual jump scares - again, I'm a scardicat.) I remember you talking about "Mabel Podcast" and at the first glance it seems neat, but I'd like to hear your comments on it first.

Thanks in advance. :)

(thank you! its a william morris thing i edited a little lol) glad you liked eskew! its been fun seeing your thoughts on it popping up in the tag, not spammy at all.

i do want to mention that the creator of eskew also has another podcast called The Silt Verses, personally i havent listened to it for weird brain reasons so not sure how well it fits your criteria but ive heard its also very good

mabel podcast is another favorite! the creators of mabel and the creator of i am in eskew were both inspired by shirley jackson's the haunting of hill house to an extent iirc, so even though the stories are very different some elements of them have a similar 'feel' to them imo. i will say that mabel is very different stylistically though (especially the earlier episodes) which in my experience people seem to either love or hate. whereas in eskew you get a pretty continuous narration from david or riyo, in mabel youre mostly listening in on a series of somewhat disjointed voicemail messages. id definitely recommend at least giving the first few episodes a go, dont get discouraged if you dont feel like you dont understand whats happening right away. all you really need to know about the story going in is that youre following Anna, whos a live-in carer for an old woman named Sally. Anna is trying to contact Sallys next of kin (the titular Mabel), but shes strangely out of reach.

ok i know you said youre not a huge horror person but if you ever are feeling a little more daring id suggest trying out The White Vault. theres a small amount of gore (descriptions of finding hearts and teeth) and some uh. wet ripping sounds in it but its really not that bad all things considered, just know that it is straight horror though. its a found footage podcast that follows a group of people whove been hired to check out a remote outpost in northern norway thats gone dead, but a storm leaves them stranded there, and as time goes on it becomes clear that they arent exactly alone. this ones a little longer i think, but tbh ive only listened to the first two seasons, it felt like a natural place for the story to end to me

and then on the complete opposite side of the spooky podcast spectrum, if you want something thats a ghost story but really not horror at all imo, i just finished listening to Midnight Radio a few weeks back. this ones *really* short, like 10 episodes that are ~20 minutes each short, so its definitely lower commitment. in this one youre listening in on a radio show hosted by Sibyl, who died decades earlier but can still be heard waxing poetic about her hometown in the dead of night.

ok LAST ONE havent finished it so wasnt sure if i should rec it but a lot of people on my dash hype up Archive 81 so i thought id mention it at least. guy is hired to listen through a bunch of creepy tapes in some archive out in the middle of no where. classic horror podcast stuff. similar to eskew in that it pivots from mostly being mostly anthology into an overarching plot as you go on

[opinated-user]

I mean. I knew Lily was ignorant and dumb but this hay’s code thing is another level. Alright gonna out myself, I’m a film major mostly in production and theory. Now the code was implemented in 1934 (though some say 1933). And it didn’t end (well there are debates as to whether we count the actual enforcement or the fact while the code existed but wasn’t enforced) until 1968. A 34-35 year not ten… 34-35 years of enforcement.

During that time there were directors who did sneaky things to fight back against the code. Have multiple kisses shorter than 3 seconds. Have suggestive imagery but blame the dirty thinking on the agent who saw the film to ensure the code was followed. And countless other examples. Not to mention the red scare also Played a BIG part of enforcement. The MPAA has done some things (like granting films with LGBT themes R ratings a rating with that excludes a lot of people) but it’s not as bad as the Hays Code who thought interracial love stories were a big no no, and in 1968 Star Trek had an interracial kiss that said F U to Jim Crow and Hays Code era thinking

my point was more going through the notion that even if it was "only 10" years that it was enforced, that's still a lot of movies, directors and creative people who saw all their hard work go to waste because it didn't meet some ridiculous criteria. for as many success stories you can count of people creatively managing to get around the hays code, there's as much if not way more stories of people and movies that never got made and no one saw. that's a tragedy, whether we're speaking 10 years, 5 years or the actual 30+ years that it was. a human being could have been born and die without ever seeing nothing else but hay's approved movies. it's a tragedy that something so simple and basic like a kiss between two people had to be revolutionary at all, it's disgusting that anyone ever said that two people shouldn't kiss because of racism. especially when we know that before that code existed, movies with queer people being queer already existed and they disappeared for 30+ years. some of them have been erased entirely. i don't understand how anyone can say that blaming the code hays or being mad about it is not only fair, but completely logical. it's not only deeply ignorant from her part to minimize the impact this had on cinema, but it's repugnant considering this is the same thing that LO always does: blame the individuals, never the institutions. the code hays was never implemented, but if it was then it wasn't a big deal and if it did it doesn't matter because these other movies came out, meaning that if your movie didn't it can only be your fault and not the people who enforced those absurd rules in the first place. it's not the fault of Disney that people are done with their "a person close to the production" always goes to the media to try to hype up movies around "our first ever gay character". it's the media, and the people who read that media, on the wrong because they just like to hate disney. it wasn't the fault of Disney's homophobia that TOH was cancelled, everyone just wants to hate Disney for no reason. it wasn't the fault of Netflix's tendencies of cutting queer shows short, the cancellation of First Kill was entirely because it was a "enemy to lovers" sapphic story. it wasn't the fault of Nickelodeon that the production of LOK was a mess, it was the writers and the people involved the only responsible because they should have known better, somehow. it wasn't the fault of Cartoon Network that SU went into hiatus more frequently than any other show at the time, no matter what the people who actually work for the company could say. it was the fault of Sugar for not magically knowing that a hiatus was coming and writing around it somehow. it's always the creative individual people who have the fault, not the companies who used them and disposes them whenever they please for whatever purpose. why do you think she doesn't speak about the big cut of HBO more? why do you think she isn't angry about how CN treated any other show that wasn't Teen Titans Go like utter trash? why is that when she wants to talk about WOW, she still talks far more about her white fantasy favourite female character being mistreated by a mere novelist writer than about the actual victims of harassment from the company?

because LO, for all her talk of being the only good leftist left, it's a capitalist anti-intellectual convenient tool whose true feelings will always have more in common with conservatives that she'd like to admit it.

[snivy-with-a-stylus]

Here's the rest of Ahsoka's team!

From the Cobalt Coastlands is a Pokémon that will pridefully protects those they love: Empoleon!

Gender is male and his name is Torrent! :)

I remember seeing an image about an Ahsoka Pokémon team, and I think I remember that they gave her a Piplup/Prinplup and that was honestly the main reason I considered giving Ahsoka one.

Steel is also an incredibly amazing defensive type, which would fit very well on a balanced team.

I also had this idea of Torrent mirroring Ahsoka's early days, where he starts out a little prideful and cocky and not wanting to be looked down upon (the Piplup line's Pokédex entry really emphasizes how prideful this line is), but he eventually outgrows it to become a reliable team member.

Ahsoka caught them as a Piplup.

From the Coronet Highlands comes a Pokémon that Ahsoka sees having a lot in common with her old master: Garchomp!

In all honesty, I'm not too confident in picking Garchomp to be part of Ahsoka's teams. I do like the reasons that they could fit and its typing doesn't overlap with anyone else, but I would be open to more options! But for now, here's some info!

While I'm not fully certain of which gender to go with, I am more leaning towards female, as you can tell by the image.

I want to characterize this Garchomp as strong and powerful but also very protective and kind, reminding Ahsoka of Anakin.

I have a couple ideas of names for Ahsoka's Garchomp, which include Krayt, Leia, and Ekkreth. If you have other suggestions though, please let me know!

Ahsoka caught them either as a Gible or a Gabite though I'm leaning towards Gabite for the next reason.

Ahsoka saw them defending a group of Pokémon and helped out, even helping heal those who were injured, which intrigued the Dragon-Ground type, prompting them to follow her.

They even jump in during the Lord Electrode fight and block and destroy one of the electric orbs that follow you (because those things were seriously annoying for me).

Potentially an Alpha Pokémon?

And finally, from the Alabaster Icelands comes Ahsoka's final Pokémon: Hisuian Braviary!

Male (for obvious reasons) and his name is Sky!

Kind of funny how I have given Ahsoka 3 different bird-related Pokémon and only one of them is part Flying-type.

Sky might also be a shiny? Since I really like how it swaps out all the white fur for dark and turns the purple head feathers blue which I feel like could reflect Anakin's attire, with it being mostly dark/black, and his blue eyes. I feel like that would remind Ahsoka further of Anakin.

Ahsoka met Sky as a Rufflet, who, just like other Rufflets, loved to pick fights to prove their worth, which Ahsoka could relate to, given her early years.

I also wanted to simply give Ahsoka a Psychic-type Pokémon because of how similar they are to common Force abilities.

But that is the team I have thought out for Ahsoka in Hisuian Jedi! What are your thoughts? Have any suggestions that could still fit the criteria? Let me know!

I also want to talk about the origins behind each team members names (some are obvious, others are not) so look out for that in the future if you're interested in it.

[i314flix]

the one where peter realizes that all peter parkers has an mj in their lives that they hold dearly in their hearts, and you, his good friend who happened to have the same initials, might be the person he’s meant to break down his walls for for the first time again after vowing to lock it up forever.

pairing: tasm!peter parker x mj!reader

word count: 2.8k

rating: NC-17

content: fluff, friends to lovers au; ft. professor!reader, professor!tasm!peter

warning/s: suggestive sexual themes; this fic isn’t that marinated yet for editing so there might be some mistakes here and there.

opening note. i rewatched spider-man: no way home and came up with this idea while doing so lol. technically, i know tasm!peter is not supposed to remember mcu!peter but for the sake of this fic, let’s just pretend that he does okay hehehe. also, i know this is supposed to be a reader-insert fic, but again, for plot purposes, you will have a name with the mj initial !

Peter felt like the densest person alive when it clicked to him that Peter 1’s Michelle Jones-Watson and Peter 2’s Mary Jane Watson had a version of her own in his universe.

He knew that he should have realized it as soon as the two Peters mentioned them, but he was so caught up with being in an entirely new dimension and coming up with a plan that would save its people that he didn’t have the luxury to process it quicker than usual; he just allowed it to be heard by his ears and shooed away by his preoccupied mind, deeming the information as merely trivial.

However, the second he was left alone with his thoughts, just as he began formulating and working on the cure for Dr. Curt Conners, it hit him like a ton of bricks that if these Peters had a partner that had the same initials, then it wouldn’t be quite impossible for him to supposedly have an MJ of his own—and that you, whose full name was Mia Joesette Watson, seemed to have perfectly fit that specific criteria.

In Peter’s defense, since you preferred to be called ‘Jo’ and the entirety of your name was very different from the other MJs, he should be given some slack for not realizing it sooner. It’s not like there was some memo that said all Peters indeed had an MJ in their life and that this said MJ would have a significant impact in it.

Still though, a part of him reckoned that he should have known better due to how much of an important and dear person you were to him. After all, since vowing to himself that he would never allow anyone to know about his identity as Spider-Man after what happened to Gwen, you became the exception to that rule because of what Peter now assumed was the universe’s way of telling him that you were meant to know him other than just Peter Parker, your colleague and fellow adjunct professor at the university you both worked in.

So when he got transported back to his universe thanks to Peter 1’s wizard friend, the first thing he did was rush to the university grounds where he knew you would be, ignoring the pain he felt in his body from all the fight and getting the first clothes he could find in his apartment to wear over his Spider-Man suit so that he could disguise himself as an average guy.

He just knew he couldn’t wait to see you again. It was going to be literally torturous if he prolonged this any longer, his head only filled with thoughts of how much he wanted to see you and prove if the theory he had been thinking of was right.

Peter wished it was; he never said it out loud before, but it has been months since he has been in denial with himself that he was already gaining romantic feelings for you due to his fear of ever loving someone so much again.

And if this was the go signal he had been waiting for that told him it was safe to fall in love with you, then he was going to take it.

━━

Arriving at the faculty building, he marched to where your office was and heedlessly opened the door without warning, spotting you by your desk with a student sitting across you.

From the looks of it alone, this student—Rachel, as Peter remembered her—was having a consultation with you, her laptop opened for you and folders scattered on the table, a very clear indication that he shouldn’t have barged in like he just had right now unannounced.

Your eyes flashed to him in an instant, confusion and surprise etching on your features. “Mr. Parker,” you acknowledged, keeping the interaction as professional as it could since there were existing rumors of the both of you having a love affair (from what you gathered, the students were ‘shipping’ you together), “is there anything I can help you with?”

He swallowed hard, embarrassed as he was not expecting another person to be with you at this time. “Well, uh, yes. But it can wait. I can wait out here.” He pertained to the bench outside your office.

“Oh, it’s fine, Mr. Parker,” Rachel was the one who spoke; she appeared pleased and there was a certain glint in her eyes that Peter couldn’t quite decipher. “My consultation period with Ms. Watson is done. So, you can have her.” She closed her laptop that was on your desk and kept the rest of her things before standing up.

“No, no, if you still have something to discuss—”

Any protest done by Peter got ignored by Rachel as she thanked you for your time, this big teasing grin on her face, and bid her farewell to you and Peter, scurrying to the door then to give you two the privacy you needed.

“Rachel, remember to email me the revisions by tonight, alright?” You reminded her gently before she could completely leave.

“Will do!” she giddily replied, closing the door behind her.

Once she was far enough and out of hearing shot, Peter turned back to you and saw you gazing at him with your arms crossed against your chest, your stance clearly disapproving. He was well familiar what must be running in your mind right now; there has been a lot of times in the past wherein he has gotten hurt from crime fighting that he enlisted your help in taking care of his unreachable wounds, and during one of those instances that you saw how much he winced and was in pain, you were never shy in making your concern show.

“I’m sorry,” he quickly said, striding towards your desk while you remained there, “I forgot that it’s your consultation hours during this time.”

“Where the hell were you, Peter?” was what you asked him, no longer hiding your infuriation about the fact that he has been missing since yesterday. “You didn’t attend any of your lectures from what I’ve heard, and you haven’t been answering any of my calls.”

It took a few seconds before he spoke, and when he did, he knew that the excuse he blurted out wouldn’t be good enough for your ears. “I’ve been busy.”

“Busy? With what?” You walked around the desk to walk closer to where he was standing. “You were gone for almost two days, Pete. At first I thought you were doing your—” you paused, glancing at the door for a millisecond and keeping your voice hushed for your next sentence— “Spider-Man stuff, but I looked over the news and there weren’t reports of you from anywhere.”

“Well… that’s probably because I most likely didn’t do my Spider-Man stuff here,” he sheepishly said.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I literally wasn’t here, Jo.”

“You were out of town?”

“No, I mean literally in this world.”

“In this world?” you repeated in an impatient and puzzled manner. “So, what are you saying? Did you gain the ability to fly yourself to space?”

“No, no, I mean here, Jo.” Peter gestured to your surroundings in complete astonishment; regardless of how many hours it has been since he knew of the fact, he was still amazed to know that it was true. “In this world is what I’m saying. God, I don’t even know where to begin—but string theory, multidimensional reality, matter displacement? It’s all real. There are universes out there that are like our own, universes that we have counterparts of and who live in the same places we live in right here. The one I somehow ended up in? It had its own Peter Parker.”

You blinked at him, shocked at what he disclosed but was still in the process of taking it all in. “What?”

“The multiverse—it exists. It fucking exists.”

“LIke… like in that movie called Everything Everywhere All at Once? There’s just multiple realities happening all at the same time?”

“Exactly!”

“And the universe you traveled to, there was a Peter Parker there that wasn’t you?”

He nodded in enthusiasm. “Yes. Though, it’s interesting, because we look nothing alike. It doesn’t matter, of course. It’s just that I was under the impression that all Peter Parkers are supposed to look the same, but I suppose that there can be exemptions considering that there must be zillions of worlds in the—”

“Wait, wait, wait…” You cut him off and he immediately shut up. “So, let me get this clear, you were gone for almost two days because you were in another universe?”

“It sounds crazy, I know,” he said, “I mean, now that I’m back, I’m having a hard time grasping it again. But yes, basically, that is the reason for my absence.”

“How did you even travel there?”

“No idea. Just poofed there without warning.”

You continued staring at him, thankfully not because you seemed like you had your suspicions that he was only bluffing or was completely losing it. Peter was positive that you were going to believe him; it was dubious of you not to, given the fact that you were already aware of his powers as Spider-Man and the superhumans that posed a threat to your city from time to time. Surely, the concept of the multiverse couldn’t be the one thing you couldn’t comprehend.

“Fascinating,” you finally uttered out loud, looking genuinely impressed. “If they have their own Peter Parker there, does he happen to be Spider-Man as well?”

“Yeah.” He nodded. “There’s two of them actually—Peter 2 is from another world too, I’ll explain later—and he’s the oldest among us three. Peter 1, the youngest, is the true Peter in that dimension, while me… I’m kinda like the middle child in the whole dynamic.”

“There were three Peter Parkers in the world you transported in?”

“Yep.”

“Sounds like a handful.” You had the nerve to tease despite being stunned by the information. “I’m assuming there’s a Jo Watson in that universe then, huh?”

Peter smiled. He just remembered what he came rushing here for. There was a part of him that was still nervous about what he wanted to do now because of his newfound knowledge, afraid that maybe his case was different when it came to having an MJ in his life—yet most of him felt optimistic that this was the right path to go, and he hasn’t felt this much optimism in a while for him to ignore it.

“It does, actually.”

You raised your eyebrows. “Really?”

“Uh-huh. She looks nothing like you and she goes by MJ but I’m pretty sure that you and her are supposed to be the same.” He chuckled and so did you.

“What makes you so certain?”

“For one, she’s an important person in Peter Parker’s life, and you’re important to me too, Jo,” Peter said sincerely, his eyes practically the ones that were speaking to you that he caught the movement in which you held your breath in surprise a bit because of it. “I… to be frank, I should have realized it sooner. You’ve always been so much more than just a person I wanted to protect and care for. I’ve always been drawn to you… it’s perhaps the reason why I climbed in the wrong window that night despite memorizing this whole building.”

A snort escaped you at the memory he had you abruptly revisiting. What he was referring to was the night when you discovered he was indeed the man behind Spider-Man, all because of Peter’s mistake of climbing into your office for a supposed temporary refuge which was coincidentally placed a floor above his. He wasn’t sure what made him commit such a rookie mistake, although like he just said, he now thought it was the universe’s way of bringing him closer to you.

“Peter…” You began but he held your arms gently to stop you from carrying on with that sentence.

“You don’t have to give me an answer yet,” he said. “I just want you to know that I like you, Jo. A lot. And I’ve been trying hard not to for the past few months because of fear that I’ll just get fucked by life all over again if I allow myself to let another person in my life like I did before. Being in that other world though… seeing how those two Peters had MJs of their own—it made me hope that maybe it could work for the both of us too. Not just as friends… maybe as something more.”

You blinked at him, the implication of his words dawning onto you. To claim that you anticipate this confession would be a lie; regardless, it didn’t erase the fact that it made the butterflies in your stomach turn into a damn zoo. “Pete, I… wow, um, I’m speechless.”

“I’m sorry if I’m pouring this all out on you in one go.”

“No, don’t apologize.” You found yourself smiling, and that gesture alone made his heart want to burst in happiness. “I just mean that… well, I don’t want to be stereotypical—uh, do the other MJs happen to have romantic interest in the other Peter Parkers too?”

The both of you were beaming now. He was positive then that you were his already.

“Yeah. They’re head over heels over their Peters as a matter of fact,” Peter said.

“Oh, is that so?”

“Totally. I heard one of them even made the first move of kissing Peter.”

“Very admirable, I must say.” You were laughing again, and he couldn’t help following suit.

“Right?” He stepped closer and brought both of his hands on your cheeks. “However, as much as I would be honored for you to do that as well, I think I’ll save you the effort and do it myself.”

Before you could react, Peter had his lips already on yours, kissing you with a passion that he didn’t know he had until he was here and making it apparent to you. He loved how you melted into him the moment his mouth touched yours, how your hands traveled from staying still on both of your sides to clinging onto his coat to pull him closer to you, deepening the kiss and showing how much you needed this to happen as well, even though like him, you were only aware of that fact once this was really happening.

“Goddamn,” you cursed as you felt your bottom hit the desk; Peter had successfully led you to perch on it while he stood between your thighs, his body dangerously pressing against yours, “I never knew you had game, Pete.” You breathed out, half-teasing and half-impressed.

Peter smirked. “I’m hurt.”

“What can I do to make it up to you?” Your tone was flirtatious and he was feeling rather hot because of it.

“Lots of things, Jo. Though there are a few things at the top of my list.”

“Yeah?” You moaned as he nipped on your throat and squeezed your hips. “Like what?”

He was about to reply with the naughtiest thing he will ever utter in your presence but then loud consecutive knocks were heard from the office door, causing you two to halt at once.

Another knock came and Peter recoiled from you instantly, dashing to the nearby bookshelf to start pretending like he was interested in the books displayed there to erase the possible suspicion of what just commenced. You, on the other hand, briskly smoothened your hair, blouse, and asked the person knocking to come in, revealing it to be Rachel who appeared bashful to be back here again.

“I’m so sorry, Ms. Watson, but I seem to have forgotten my laptop charger.” She gestured to the pouch right beside you on the table, something that you recognized to be the one that contained what she returned for.

You grabbed it and outstretched the small bag towards her direction, an invitation for her to come get it herself, and she didn’t waste time darting forward, catching hold of it and mumbling her sorrys again and again, apologizing for interrupting your ‘meeting’ with Professor Parker.

“It’s fine,” you repeatedly told her too, waving your hands in assurance that it was all good and offering her a final smile before she exited the office for the second time this day, yelling a one last sorry until you heard her footsteps fade out.

As soon as that was dealt with, you and Peter simultaneously let out a huge exhale, causing your gazes to meet. By far, making out in the office was the most risqué and compromising position you permitted yourself to be in, considering that you and him were still in the university premises. Nonetheless, you ended up bursting out laughing with Peter at the thought of being discovered on the very first day you just admitted your feelings to each other, happy hormones spreading everywhere in your systems.

With a bite of his lip to prevent a bigger grin to be seen on his mouth, he lifted a hand and shot a synthetic web to your torso and abruptly hauled you towards him so that you’d fall in his arms. You gasped in absolute surprise, a complaint bubbling in your throat, yet he couldn’t care less as he carried on with kissing you again, picking up from where the both of you were left interrupted earlier. 

gentle reminder: this author is a sucker for validation so please don’t hesitate to share your thoughts about this! ♡

[pickypickypeak]

While you made good analysis on these villains’ motivations, I think you missed the point of the post. I was aiming at people arguing that Magnifico can’t possibly be a villain because he has “puppy eyes” or smth.

You also missed the part in Wish before the evil book thing when it’s shown that Magnifico lies to his subjects by hiding the truth that their wishes will be judged and, if deemed unworthy, won’t ever be granted (let’s also say his criteria is… biased at least. He won’t grant a 100 y/o wish to play the lute because he might lead a rebellion? Which makes sense for him to hypothesize, but we as an audience know it’s not true). Not only that, he also refuses to give them back (snapping when Asha suggests that), because that would mean having less power and influence on those people. Sure, he came from a place of love, having been through trauma and wanting for others to not ever go through that, but he, somewhat like Abuela from Encanto, became toxic in his protectiveness, the radical difference being that Abuela finally put the love for her family first and recognizes she’s been holding on too tight, while Magnifico gets completely lost in his fear to lose his power, which leads to using the evil book (which by the way, doesn’t seem to “control him” in a possession way, just amplify a dark side that was already there).

(Not to mention Magnifico is openly mean to Asha throughout all the movie, not only after the evil book. He mentions he will never grant her whole family’s wishes just out of spite come on.)

Asha did change the status quo in the end, as she (and queen Amaya) now actively help people chasing their dreams, but people are the ones in charge of them now, not Asha, it is shown they’re given back. She doesn’t hold any power on them except being there to help them (differently from Magnifico who had them living in false hopes).

I’m still baffled by how the ultimate magnifico defense argument aka one of the biggest wish complaints is “I don’t care what the movie says I can’t believe this cutie is a villain🥰🥰 there’s not a single bad thought behind those cute eyes he’s just misunderstood poor meow meow🥺🥺” you wouldn’t have survived 2010’s disney do these look like bad guys to you

[ryanelliottinternshipeportfolio]

Entry 6

I had a meeting with Ella from the Holmesglen Skills and Jobs Centre and she was very happy with my example cover letter, resume and my selection criteria answers. I sent her my successful application for my internship with Basketball Victoria. She provided me with two suggested improvements to my cover letter and resume. 

The first was to include where I found the position I’m applying for in the first paragraph of my cover letter. 

The second was to be more specific in my career objectives on my resume about the role I want to be working in. This is valuable advice which I’ll take on board for future applications. Resumes are one of the most important documents to write as they can secure job opportunities, therefore I need to make sure mine is as good as possible (Ng et al., 2013). I also asked for advice on interview skills because I will likely have many interviews in the future and it’s something I’m not great at. Ella was kind enough to offer to help me with practice interviews once I get some interviews lined up which is an offer I will definitely take up. 

My general career aspiration is to work in the sports media industry as a member of a media team at a sporting organisation. Ideally, I’d like this to be in my favourite sports such as AFL footy, basketball or Formula 1. I don’t want to be pigeonholed into doing one type of content creation such as only writing articles. I want to be able to write articles as well as create videos, graphics and other variations of content. It would be amazing to have a role like this as it would allow me to love my job which is my main goal. 

My aim for my first year after my studies is to just gain more experience in the sports media industry. I am not in the position to be extremely picky with opportunities. If I have the chance to apply for a role -whatever it may be- that will provide me with more experience in the industry then I should go for it. As long as its sport focused and will provide me with the opportunity to develop my skills and create forms of content then I’ll be happy. Rome wasn’t built in a day and I know that my first year after studies will be a stepping stone for my years to come. 

In five years I would like to be working in a state sporting organisations or for a sporting club that plays on a national level. Maybe this is a goal that I should have more towards 10 years but I think I can achieve it in five years time. I want to be in a role that I really enjoy and that I want to stay in for a while. I hope by this time I’m in a role at a high level of sport. 

In 10 years time I hope I’m settled in a job that I love in a high level of professional sport. 

Reference List

Ng, A., Keng, C. S., Fun, C. S., Yun, L. S., & Leong, A. (2013). Resume Writing in the Real World - Do Business Communication Textbooks Really Give Good Advice?, Asian ESP Journal, 9(3), 73-97. 

[frannyzooey]

In The Dark: 6

Ezra x f!reader

Rating: Explicit, mentions of drinking, age gap

A/N: Thank you endlessly to @mourningbirds1​ who gave me the best, smartest advice on this chapter. I couldn’t have done it without her input - my writing is better because of her. Thanks also to @krissology​ and @charnelhouse​ who give me the BEST feedback and reassurance on the f i l t h ❤

Series Masterlist

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Thank you for your recent submission to our creative writing program. We regret to inform you that while this piece, as it stands, does not meet the criteria we are looking for in terms of an applicant, that’s not to say it doesn’t have potential. Below are revision requests - please complete them and resubmit…..

Looking at the email, you let out a slow, defeated breath. 

“Shit.”

You rub the frown between your brows, hoping to ease some of the tension seated there and reread the email again. You had hoped for better; would have to do better to have a shot at this program. 

Stepping  to the side on the park path, you read it again. A couple of joggers rhythmically pound pass; a family; some women chatting while one pushes a stroller and they all fade into the background as you read the words on your phone, hoping they say something different this time. 

They don’t.

Closing your email, you start back on the path, opening your music app instead. Only there isn’t really a good song choice for “disappointed I didn’t get into a program I’ve been working really hard for” and so you poke around, listless and defeated. 

Dried leaves skitter along the path, swirled bunches gathering and catching along the edges of the grass, the occasional piece of crumpled trash mixed in with them. It’s brisk, the wind making it colder than the temperature would suggest and while your cheeks sting with the bite in the air, the hot coffee you hold in your hand is a pleasant contrast. Still, you tug your scarf higher around your neck, walking a little faster towards the library. 

There is only one person who would understand what you feel right now, and you know you could call her but you also want another person who wouldn’t quite understand, but could console you in a way you’ve come to crave these last few months. Under normal circumstances, it would be considered good luck that these two people live together, knowing that you could call one and the other would be there too, but not so, in your case. 

Still, you need to talk to someone and when you Facetime Cee, she picks up almost right away. The sight of her familiar face brings you consolation, and you immediately curl into the comfort of her virtual presence and reassurance, pouring out your disappointment. 

“God, that really sucks. I’m sorry.” Cee’s face is clear through your phone, highlighted in the afternoon sun. She looks warm, her plump cheeks a blush pink as she sits on the couch in her living room and it’s like you can feel the warmth of her place through the screen, wishing you were there. You look away from her face, trying to rearrange your features into something that doesn’t look so….depressed. 

“Thanks. I guess I just thought…I don’t know.” 

“You thought you would get in and it’s because you should have. I read that story about a dozen times. It was exactly what they were looking for.”

You raise your eyebrows, staring off to the side. “I guess not.”

“So now what?” she asks, resting her chin on her propped up knee. You say nothing for a moment, and she lets you think. She always knows when to give you a minute. 

“I’m gonna clean it up and resubmit it,” you say eventually, a plan visibility forming in your mind. “They didn’t say that I was out, they just said they need to see some changes before they give me an answer. I’ll make them and see what happens.”

“That’s my girl,” she smiles, and the sight alone is enough to make you feel slightly better about the whole thing. “Maybe you should –”

She pauses, looking off to the side for a moment and you hear the door open on her side before shutting with a click. She turns back to you.  “Come over tonight. Leave it until tomorrow. Give it a night to sit and then look at it with fresh eyes in the morning.”

You hear a mumble off camera and Cee looks up, then swings the camera around to fit Ezra in the frame. He’s come to sit down next to her on the couch and his unexpected appearance makes your heart skip fast in your chest at that familiar swirl of dark curls, the patchy beard, the dimples that appear when he smiles at you.

“You coming over tonight, Birdie? Everything okay?”

“She didn’t get it. The submission,” Cee tells him and he keeps his eyes on you, a slight frown pulling at his mouth. 

“That’s too bad. You should definitely come over then. Let us ply you with drink, make you forget all about it.” He winks, and you find yourself smiling. 

“Yes!” Cee exclaims, excitement lighting up her face. “That’s a great idea. And perfect timing - it’s Ezra’s birthday. We were gonna go out tonight anyway. I was actually gonna see if you wanted to come, and now it looks like you’re free, so….”

“It’s your birthday?” you ask him, pushing down the strong urge to follow it with a question of how old he’s turning. The grays at the corner of his jaw tell you enough; the grimace on his face stops you completely. 

“It is,” he replies easy. “You should definitely come. Want me to come get you?”

The offer is tempting.  Time alone in the car with him, the perfect excuse to see him without Cee, but an idea blooms in your mind as soon as he asks. You have something else in mind. 

“You know what? Lemme just meet you guys there. I have to swing home, drop this stuff off, change.” You pick up the pace in the park, changing directions towards home. 

Cee nods, but Ezra stays put, still looking at you. “You sure? I can come get you.”

“I’m sure. Thanks though.”

–

Sofreh. A Persian restaurant near their house, it’s where Cee tells you to meet them later that evening and when you get there, they are already seated at a table in the corner. You find your way over to it, wanting nothing more than to bend down and greet him with a kiss, but instead you greet him with a smile and take a seat next to him, the one next to Cee occupied with a present. You hand her yours to place next to it. 

When you take your coat off, you can tell by the subtle clench of his fist against his thigh and the way his eyes drop the length of your body that your outfit hit the mark you had hoped it would. A wraparound dress, one that hugs you just right and shrinks your waist and gives a peek at the swell of your breasts - but you have a feeling it’s your lipstick that he’s especially liking right now. The thought is confirmed when you take your seat, turning to him with a smile and he can’t take his eyes off your mouth. 

“Happy Birthday,” you lean in and tell him quietly, nudging his shoulder with yours and he grins wide, nudging you back. His hand settles on your knee with a squeeze. 

“Thanks. Thanks for coming.”

“Of course - I wouldn’t have missed this. I didn’t even know it was your birthday.”

The waiter comes by to take your drink order and as you quickly peruse the menu while Cee says what she wants, he takes the opportunity to lean into you. 

“You should get this one,” he murmurs, the suggestion sounding more seductive than it should. He taps the menu in your hand, his other hand skating around the curve of your knee, his fingers tucking themselves under your thigh. “It’s delicious.”

His mouth waters at the smell of your perfume, his eyes flicking over to your mouth again. Of course you would wear that same lipstick you wore the night of the party. The one he watched you line your mouth with, the one he imagined smeared around the base of his cock later that night. He takes a steadying breath at the thought of it, and your lips curl slightly up. 

He orders for the both of you: a Sekanjabin Martini, with gin, mint syrup, cucumber and lime and when they place the drinks on your table, you make a silly, playful face at how fancy you feel clinking your martini glass against theirs in a cheers. The drink is smooth and crisp, refreshing as the alcohol slides thickly down your throat. He was right, it is delicious.

The space is warm and intimate with the tables closely bunched together and the lighting is dim and inviting. The liquor warms you, flowing through your limbs and making you loose, and you fight the urge to lean into his body. 

When Cee starts a story about something that happened in class today, you’re only half listening, finding it hard to concentrate with him sitting so close to you. His hand is still in place, but the close quarters of the restaurant means you're tucked in tight to the table and no one can see. That thought alone is enough to build and spread through your hips and down between your legs; even more so with every sip of drink you have. When his thumb starts a maddeningly slow caress against your bare skin, he squeezes the plush give of your thigh, feeling you subtly shift in your seat. 

The food turns out to be just as good as the drinks: strained, fresh tart yogurt with shallots and chives, savory feta and herb flatbread, saffron rice with lamb. He casually spoons extra lamb  onto your plate even when you wave him away and you're touched at the way he remembers your particular meat preferences. When you finish your drink, another appears and when you take a sip of it, the pleasant, warm buzz of intoxication goes to your head, in a pleasant way. When the waiter comes around again, you order sparkling water, needing to keep your head around him. 

His clean, masculine smell is enough to transport you to your bedroom, phantom sensations pressing into the inside of your thighs at the memory of his weight between them. The scent of his hair, the husk of his voice, the humid pant of his breath. You take another sip to distract yourself, wishing you were alone with him. Every brush of his arm against yours, the press of his thigh against your knee, the solid closeness of his body. You’re so turned on, even more so when you slip into a daydream about straddling his lap right here at the table to grind yourself against it and Cee’s voice pulls you from the vivid thought. 

“Present time,” she announces, handing him yours. He’s already grinning when he takes it and his laugh is immediate when he opens it, reading the tagline on the front of the used novel out loud. 

“Torn between her fright and desire,” he says dramatically, peeling the rest of the paper off. He flips through the yellowed pages, scanning the words. “Sounds intriguing. The perfect bedtime read.” He turns to you with a sincere smile. “Thank you.” 

“It should have a lot of dirty parts, like you said you were into,” you tease and Cee’s eyebrows raise, her drink paused in midair. 

“Wait, when did you say that? Gross.” She laughs, reaching her hand out for the book. “Lemme see that thing.” She turns it over to read the back, smiling fondly. “I remember seeing this with you a couple weeks ago, at that bookstore. Isn’t this the one that says “member”, like, a lot?”

He reaches to snatch it from her, ignoring the way you’re both laughing. “Don’t spoil it for me, Cee,’ he chides. “I wanna learn all about this dangerous blend of fright and desire for myself.”

She laughs, waving his statement away. Reaching for her gift, it’s about the same size as yours and he gives her a look before reluctantly taking it. 

“Oh stop,” she says. “It’s not a lot, but I thought you might like it.”

It’s a photo, you can see the frame when he opens it, and unlike your gift, he doesn’t laugh. He looks at it thoughtfully, a small smile stretching his cheeks. “I remember this day,” he says softly. 

You lean closer and he shifts the frame towards you so you can see: them, at the beach. Cee looks around twelve years old and Ezra younger too, though it’s hard to tell under his hat and sunglasses. They are leaning towards each other, sharing a towel. The day is bright, though their clothes suggest it’s colder than it looks - pants and sweatshirts, with Cee swaddled in what looks like Ezra’s jacket. “This is a good picture. Thank you.”

She nods her head in a silent your welcome, fishing out her phone. “Look at this,” she says, swiping it open. “When I was trying to find that picture, I found this one. Remember this?”

She shows him the screen and he immediately laughs. “I do. That’s amazing.”

“Peak me right here,” she says, showing it to you and you laugh too, reaching for the phone. 

It’s the two of them, standing on a path somewhere in the wilderness and Ezra is leaning against a railing of some sort, while Cee is standing in the foreground, her eyes almost all the way closed, clearly caught mid talking. She looks awkward in a teenage way, someone who isn’t comfortable yet in her own skin and you feel a rush of endearment for that girl, so unlike the one you know now. 

“Remember when you fell on that trip?” she asks Ezra, and he’s already nodding before she can finish the question. “He totally slipped on the path and really fucked up his arm. You can see it there, in the picture. He took it out of the sleeve and cradled it against his chest under his shirt on the walk back. The way his sleeve kept flopping in the wind was so funny looking? I remember I couldn’t stop laughing.”

“I wouldn’t have fallen if you hadn’t hit me with that stick,” he protests, taking a swallow of his drink. “You were swinging it around, pretending like you had a machete and when you smacked me with it, it hurt like a fucking bullet to the arm. I had to snatch it from you –”

“I didn’t even want to go on that hike in the first place,” she interrupts him, her voice carrying over his. “You deserved to get smacked, making me tramp through the woods for fun.” She emphasizes the word fun with finger quotes and you smile at their bickering, picking up the beach picture again. 

Your early days in the city so lonesome, you never thought you’d be here, at a table, having dinner with your people. You’d always passed places like this on your walk home, looking in from the outside at the couples and the families and the friends. Seated in large groups, or clustered in small ones, sometimes two bodies curled into one another in a semblance of privacy in a public place; the golden wash of interior light over all of them. You had a hard time imagining yourself in their place, you included in one of those small animated with happiness groups, your schedule busy with plans. 

Looking down again at a younger Cee, guilt gnaws at you at this obvious reminder of their connection and shared past. They were together as a unit long before you and will be together for the rest of their lives - a stronger connection than you could ever even understand. How could you come between that? Now that you’ve finally found your people, how could you risk going back to the before? 

Ezra senses a shift in your mood, his eyes noticing the way yours have glazed over. His jaw shifts in thought, wondering where you’ve gone, though he can probably guess with the way you’re studying the picture in front of you. 

“Do you like hiking, Birdie?” he asks, pulling you back into the conversation and you look up at his earnest expression, the warmth in his brown eyes a simmering glow. 

“It’s okay. I haven’t really –”

“It’s settled,” he announces over you, draping his arm around your shoulders. He tucks your body tight to his and you feel a flash of heat at the contact, wondering if he’s making any excuse now to touch you. When he looks down at you, a spark of mischief in his gaze tells you that’s exactly what he’s doing and you play along, eager to stay molded to his side. 

“I’ve got myself a new partner,” he tells Cee, squeezing you close. “We can venture into the woods together. Chart the uncharted. Prospect the dangerous unknown –”

“Oh, be quiet,” she waves at him, picking up her glass. “We were only in the middle of Brooklyn.”

–

“I just ordered it,” he says, tucking his phone back into his back pocket. “Four minutes away.”

“You really didn’t have to do that,” you reply with a face, buttoning your coat. Adjusting your scarf around your neck, he admires the color against your skin. “I could have easily taken the train.”

He waves the suggestion away, giving you a reprimanding look. “I insist, Birdie.”

The three of you are standing outside the restaurant now, the sky the hazy grey of night that never fully gets black due to the lights of the city. The front window of Sofreh casts a glow over him, light catching his profile and though your buzz is keeping you warm enough, you long to go back inside the restaurant. 

There is a yellowish filter from the streetlamps casting over everything: the cars driving down the street, the people walking either to dinner or from it, the three of you as you shift to the side to make room for them. It shines on the pavement of the road, washing over every store front, the remaining leaves on the trees that line the block lit with it. 

Your Uber pulls up to the curb and for a brief, agonizing moment, you hold eye contact with him before he pulls you into a hug. You close your eyes, savoring the firm press of his body as it envelops yours, your senses filled with his warm scent.

“Happy Birthday,” you say into his shoulder, your cheek pressed against the crook of it and he squeezes tighter, holding you for a beat longer. 

“Thank you,” he replies, his voice a low rumble against your body and you want nothing more than to cup his face in your hands and pull him in for a kiss, to let him know how much you mean it. 

He’s already pulling away though when you think it, the hug not nearly as long as you want it to be and he steps to the side, letting Cee have her turn. When she hugs you, she tips in your hold, a laugh bubbling out of her and Ezra pulls her towards him, hooking his arm with hers. 

“Come on, you lush,” he said, pulling her down the sidewalk and he watches you get into your car before turning away. 

—

The night, the liquor, the closeness of him and the reminder of how good he feels flows warm over your skin, putting you in the best of moods when you walk into your apartment. Thoughts of the email you got this morning are long gone, replaced with ones of Ezra and it’s his face in your mind when you pull out your phone, sending him a text. 

Liquid courage courses through your veins. 

Are you awake, old man?

You see bubbles appear on the screen and you picture him standing in the kitchen, fishing his phone out or sitting on his patio, a beer in one hand, grinning. Your phone screen suddenly changes, his name popping up in a call and you answer it, laughing. 

“Why didn’t you just text me back? I knew you were an old man.”

He laughs, the sound deep and rich. “You know I don’t text, Birdie. Did you get home safe?”

You hear a door shut on his end as he slips into his bedroom for some privacy.

“I did. I wish I could have stayed with you guys.”

“You should have,” he replies, and the two of you sit silently for a moment with the unspoken knowledge that that probably wouldn’t have been the best idea. Not after that you’ve done; not after drinking. 

“I was wondering if I could give you another birthday present.” The hesitation in your voice is endearing to him, and he smiles. He hums in approval, the sound making you shiver and your eyes flutter shut. Your body has an unconscious reaction to it, one he would be delighted to see in person. 

“Well now I’m really intrigued. What did you have in mind?”

You stand in front of your mirror, fingering the sash at your waist, imagining you undoing it for him. 

“Are you alone?”

He pauses, breathing hard through his nose, his hand running down the length of his thigh. Jesus. You sound so innocent and unsure, your voice so soft through the phone and he’s already starting to harden in his jeans at the sound of it. 

“Hang on, okay?”

He leaves his phone on his bed, going into the living room. 

Cee is buried in her laptop when he says goodnight, no sign of emerging anytime soon and when he leaves the room, she gives him only a glance and a quick, “Happy Birthday, Ez” before he comes back to you. 

Closing his door behind him, his movements are eager when he snatches his phone off the bed and settling himself against his headboard, he sees your FaceTime request pop up. He answers it before it can even finish the ring and he doesn’t even get a greeting out without sucking in a breath. 

It’s you - your phone propped up somewhere in your bedroom, the lighting a flattering golden color that washes over your skin and in that fucking dress, you look sensuous, seductive. 

“Hello, Birdie,” he greets you, bringing his phone a little closer to his face.

“Hello.” Is it his imagination, or is your voice a little huskier? It makes him twitch inside his pants. 

“Is my birthday present…a phone call?” His eyes light before they darken, drifting down your image to linger on your neckline. “Or is it a show?”

“Something like that,” you bite your bottom lip and his eyes fix on the sight. “I had an idea. I wanna try something.” You shift closer to the screen, your hunch pressing your breasts together in a spill from your bra and your voice lowers even more. “I thought maybe I could turn my sound off and you could…watch me.”

“Watch you do what?” You know he knows what you mean, but you also know he’s not gonna let you get off that easy. He wants to hear you say it. 

“Watch me get undressed,” you start, focusing your eyes on his mouth. Your tongue drags across your bottom lip when you remember what that mouth can do. “Watch me climb into bed.” You pause for a moment, bringing your eyes back to his. “Watch me think about you.”

There it is. The admission makes him smile lazily, almost smug. “Watch you think about me, huh? And what do you do when you think about me?”

“I’m gonna show you.”

“Now why would I want the sound off for that, hmm? You know I wanna hear every pretty sound that comes out of your mouth.” His voice is like gravel, slow and thick like syrup, the register of it sounding low through your phone. 

You shrug, suddenly unsure. “I don’t know, I just thought – I thought maybe it would be hot if we couldn’t talk to each other. We could only watch.”

His eyebrows raise in surprise. “You’re gonna watch me?”

“If you want. Or not - it’s your birthday.”

“Well if it’s my birthday, I think I just wanna come over right now and watch you in person.”

He likes the sudden frown of arousal that bunches your features, his lips turning up at the sight. You slowly shake your head no though and he frowns playfully. 

“Very well, Birdie. If this is all I get…”

You keep your indulgent smile, the corners of it stretching even wider when you place a finger in front of your mouth in a signal for him to be quiet and his expression turns to a sudden hunger, one focused on your mouth. 

You give him a wink, and then you mute your call. 

–

He is riveted when you back away from the camera, standing up so he can see your full body. Your fingers go to the sash of your dress, slowly untying it and when you part the fabric so he can see your bra and panties, he unconsciously brings his phone closer to his face. 

It’s like he’s a voyeur and the thought makes his cock thicken almost instantly, his palm settling over the length of it to press it against his thigh. It comes to him that you wanted to do this silently as a means to test the waters with something like this without the pressure of dirty talk, but also because you knew Cee wouldn’t hear him on the phone this way and he slides down in his bed, stretching out to watch. 

There is something so…erotic about this being silent. You, standing in front of him and cupping the lush curves of your breasts through your bra, the image focused on them. He can see your nipples bead through the thin material, his mouth watering when he remembers the way they taste. 

Your fingers slip into the elastic waistband of your underwear and pulling them down to give him a peek of your hip bone, he can see the beginnings of the sparse patch of hair before you let them go. You let the dress drop silently, turning around for him and he wants to groan at the curve of your ass peeking out beneath the band of your underwear, wanting nothing more than to squeeze it with his hands. 

Instead, he squeezes himself. 

You face the camera again, your arms reaching back to unhook your bra and when you let it drop to the floor, he holds his breath at the sight of your bare breasts. The plump, velvet soft underside of them calls out for his mouth and you come closer to the camera, making sure he can see. 

Fuck. The heel of his hand unconsciously slides down the length of his cock, attempting relief. 

You look at him for a moment, your small hands trying to cup the weight of your breasts in their hold and when you play with the peaks of them until they harden, he lets out a low, soft groan. 

You press them together, bending down to give him a good look and an image of him fucking those lucious tits until he comes on them catches him off guard; a damp bead of precome slipping from the tip of his dick to seep into the fabric of his briefs.  

You turn slowly, silently, your back to the camera. His eyes devour the dip of your waist, your length of your bare skin, but it’s your ass you know is his weakness and so you tug your panties higher, putting the curves of your bottom on display. 

He is riveted to the screen when you start to slide them down, his breath held in his throat when you wiggle them over the curve of your hips and when you bend over to slip them all the way down your legs, he closes his eyes with a frown. 

“Fuck, Birdie,” he groans, the sound a deliciously tight strain in his throat and you stay there for a moment, the folds of your cunt peeking just below the curve of your ass. He can’t hold out, his hand shaking as he works his belt open and then the button of his jeans, the quiet sound of a zipper being pulled down coming through the line and his hand slips underneath the waist of his pants and into his briefs. You can hear it all, the sounds of his movements making you ache empty and when he palms himself with a heavy, deep breath, you stand back up to watch. 

You unmute your phone. 

“Put the camera on it. Lemme see you.”

His reaction is immediate, the screen shifting to his lap and you watch a rhythmic movement under his pants - but he knows that’s not what you want. He pulls his hand out, instead framing the heft of his cock with it through the denim and you can see the full, thick length of the outline, his hand resuming stroking. 

“Do you see what you do to me? Bend over again. I wanna see your ass.”

The power you feel right now is indescribable, even as he calls the shots and you don’t think you have ever felt more desired or wanted in your whole life. 

You mute your end again, standing up and turning around and with a peek over your shoulder to make sure he can still see, you lean forward and brace your hands on the edge of your bed, letting him have his look. 

Your hand drifts down between your legs to skim feather light over your cunt and he watches with rapt attention as the tips of your fingers play with your folds for a moment, before dipping inside. You put your knee up on the bed, slowly bringing the other one up and when you start to crawl, he sounds hoarse and raspy through the phone. 

“Don’t”, he says, sounding desperate. “Bring me to bed with you.”

You wanted to give him a longer show than this, maybe make yourself come while on all fours, but you oblige. It’s his present after all. 

You climb into your bed, settling on your back and position the camera to the side of you, making sure you’re still in view. He can see the length of your torso, the rounded curves of your breasts, and your arms extended in a reach down between your legs, your hands out of sight. 

When your eyes flutter shut and you bite your lip with a gentle arch of your back, giving into your touch, he lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. 

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters to himself, opening his pants wider with one hand while holding his phone with the other. It’s a fumble, his briefs tight against his skin, but when he finally pulls himself out, a soft sound catches deep in his throat. He shifts lower on the bed, lifting his hips to shove the band of his black briefs down to give himself more room and he tugs the hem of his shirt up, his eyes staying right on you, watching. 

His fingers are practiced in this hold, even more so since you’ve started coming around and though sometimes he uses the lube he has in the drawer beside his bed to give it an extra slip, he makes his palm work for him. Not as soft as your hand, but enough to get relief. 

And Jesus he needs it.

His fingers curl around his thick length, his eyes focused on the subtle sway of your breasts as  you move your hips in time with your hand. Your mouth is open, the memory of the sounds you make flooding through his mind and when he thinks about how wet you must be right now, he strokes himself tighter, faster. 

You were soaked when he slid into you, taking his cock effortlessly down to the base. He imagines the tight clutch of your cunt now, what your fingers must look like disappearing into it and when you jaw tenses on camera, another moan flexing from your taut throat, he needs to hear you; his cock stiff and aching. 

“Turn your sound on,” he groans quietly, the rhythmic, fast, audible sound of his fist working his cock in the background. “I wanna hear you when you come. Please.”

You nod, your back arching on the bed into your own touch before you reach for the camera to tap the button and when the first unfiltered sound of your moan breaks through, he squeezes his dick in order not to come. Not yet. He wants to see you do it. 

“Tell me,” he urges. “Tell me what you’re thinking about.”

“You,” you whimper, your hands just out of the frame as you work yourself higher and he doesn’t even care that he can’t see your cunt right now; the filthy image of your naked, writhing upper body and your open panting mouth more than enough. “About how you fill me up. About how I feel so full. About – oh god – about how you make me come with your mouth. I like when you fuck me with it.”

He wants to keep you talking and he wants to talk to you, but the walls in this house are thin and he tries to keep himself in check. The strain of his silence is evident in the clench of his jaw, the tautness of his neck and you glide your fingers faster over your clit, your thighs trying to shut around your hand. 

“You don’t have to say anything,” you pant, your cunt clenching around nothing as you feel the fluttering heat build between your legs. You’re so close. “Just – fuck, just watch me and show me. Show me, Ezra.”

You cry out for him when he shifts the view to his cock, the stiff, heavy length held tight in his grip as he strokes it faster for you and even more arousing is the peek of his belly above it, the dark curls around the base, the sounds he is making in the background: all heavy breathing, low grunts, barely there groans. 

You can feel his cock inside you, your fingers slipping in to replace the phantom weight of it and it’s not enough, not nearly enough to make you feel full like he does, but the sight of his fist working that cock is enough. 

“I’m gonna come,” you whine. “You’re gonna make me cum and I wish you were here. I wish –”

You don’t get the words out before you do it, your body arching in that familiar way he’s come to love and the sight of your open mouth and your pleading expression builds a tension filled warmth at the base of his spine, his balls drawing up so tight it almost hurts. It sounds like it hurts when he comes too, whimpers leaving your throat at the grainy, dim image of hot ropes of spend splashing on his skin. 

He keeps tugging every last drip out and your hands keep working as well, until he shifts the camera back to his face. 

“You –” his breathing is heavy, a sated smile slowly spreading. You grin at the peek of his dimples, wishing he were here so you could fit your thumb into one. “You’re so fucking amazing.”

You giggle, hiding your face after all you just did in full view and the sight of it makes him laugh quietly, the sound blending with yours. 

“I wish I was there to help clean you up,” you say sleepily, shifting onto your side and he groans, a huff of a laugh leaving him. 

“Don’t say stuff like that. You’re gonna make me hard again.”

You hum in contentment. “Yes please.” You look so warm and soft, your face relaxed and the image brings him back to your room, back to that afternoon you shared. His palm itches with wanting to touch your skin, knowing how soft it is. 

“You’re gonna kill me, Birdie,” he says, smiling at your proud expression. “I know it.”