#anon if you haven’t given up on me… here’s your reply

[sasukesun]

How do you think Naruto views the curse of hatred and Sasuke’s darkness?

oh i think i already gave you a hint about how naruto views that in my curse of hatred ask.

actually, i don’t think naruto knows about the curse of hatred itself, the one that comes from tobirama’s bigoted views, since tobirama only voices that when sasuke is talking to the hokages, and naruto wasn’t present there. but well, do i think naruto believes sasuke is genetically predisposed to evil? lol.

like i said in the curse of hatred ask, something that seems to be very solid in naruto is the idea that people grow “positively” when they get support from others, the good place quote and all. well, naruto himself seems to be the character that understands this idea the most.

naruto understands that he and sasuke could be in each other’s places and he does explain why he thinks that, because naruto got external love from iruka and sasuke (the positive support that allows him to grow) while sasuke didn’t. despite him feeling at ease because of naruto (and naruto doesn’t quite know that), sasuke didn’t get the same support before he left konoha, thanks to orochimaru’s curse seal actively triggering him and itachi coming back and retraumatising him. naruto understands that sasuke did everything he did because he loved his family very much, it’s quite interesting how when sakura brings sasuke’s criminal status, naruto talks about sasuke’s love for his family instead of his anger.

i guess that would be enough to show that naruto doesn’t think sasuke is genetically evil, right? i will talk more, though. another thing that i criticised about kishimoto in that ask is the fact that he uses the narrative to frame sasuke as wrong in a way. that happens in the sage of six paths moment too.

what i think it’s important to say here is that those chapters are shit. seriously, they are retconned and badly written. every time i write posts like this, i reread everything, so let me tell you that i reread the chapters of the sage of the six paths and they sounded worse than they did before, and i don’t know how to express myself here without sounding like “source: trust me bro”, and maybe i shouldn’t worry about it that much since you asked for my opinion, but still, i’m gonna try to be objective and make you look at them critically so you understand why i find them shit.

just starting by the simple fact of how retconned the naruto ending is. chapters 670 and 671 especially are used to introduce kaguya as the new and final villain to the readers, that to me is already iffy as hell for one basic reason: naruto has 700 chapters, do you think it makes sense to introduce the supposed most important villain of the whole story with 30 chapters left for the ending? don’t you find that a little bit rushed? a little bit pulled out of nowhere? take madara in comparison, his first mention as a possible personality able to influence the story (and i mean madara, not obito pretending to be madara) is on chapter 370, a little bit over the half of the manga. and madara’s presence exists even before that, hence vote1 or kurama talking about him in reunion, for example. that is how far his influence on the plot goes, he is a ghost haunting everybody else. and another thing we have to take into consideration is why kaguya even exists? i could give you two reasons: (1) kishimoto wrote himself into a corner when he made madara so damn sexy powerful, to the point he didn’t know how to defeat him and (2) to build the new setting for boruto (since it’s villains are all from her clan), so yeah, pardon me for not taking kaguya’s entire existence in this story seriously.

and it’s not only about that retcon, it’s also about the other retcon that makes her existence so off from anything else in the manga. those chapters also introduce us a new idea which is: power corrupts people and it drives them mad. this isn’t about political power or anything, just raw power. those chapters push for the idea that the problem wasn’t with the shinobi structure or how villages ended as military fortresses, the problem is actually when people are too powerful, the problem is in the ninjutsu, which is different from the “ninshuu”, even though the manga never develops this idea, or explains how they are different and why, it just throws us vague affirmations from a supposed reliable source, since we are talking about the most powerful ninja in history, with no explanations whatsoever. this is a way to build a narrative, and i’m surely not saying that the narrative in question is good or reliable, you have to look at it critically.

so i guess let’s forget any political aspect of the shinobi world, whose worldbuilding started in land of waves, the very first arc of the manga, because the actual problem is that… there is a fruit that turns people powerful and therefore evil, huh? well, that’s not the narrative i’m buying, it’s far from enough to convince me.

and finally we get to how the fuck does that involve sasuke? well, the story tell us that indra was born naturally strong and believed that with power anything was possible, while ashura was only able to reach the same level through hard work and cooperation… so if sasuke has indra’s chakra clinging onto him… do you see where the narrative is trying to go? i have already talked about how it’s bullshit that sasuke was a natural prodigy, so the narrative can’t even get that right, but here they are also hinting that sasuke is corrupted by power. it’s not enough that the narrative is trying to make us forget about the shinobi system problems — and the uchiha massacre and sasuke wanting justice is a very relevant one of those problems — it’s also trying to push for the idea that sasuke is wrong because he is corrupted by power, while centring the morality around naruto. it’s not a “curse of hatred” that sasuke “suffers” from here, but it’s also the idea of power driving people mad and making him irrational and therefore, they are stuck in this cycle of hatred.

now, the narrative and the character are separated entities, a character can be used to build a narrative, a narrative can reinforce the credibility of a character, but i can’t blame naruto as a character for a narrative that tries to frame him as good. besides, what naruto actually thinks of this?

kishimoto made sure to emphasise it at least four times… in less than 30 chapters.

and what is even more ironic is that, even though the sage of the six paths himself is used to build this narrative, he is also used to push for the idea that naruto and sasuke are different from the ones that came before them, that they are their own people. not only the sage of the six paths btw, hashirama as well… who was used to talk about sasuke’s “soul consumed by darkness”, like i said in the curse of hatred ask.

isn’t it just messy?

now, about sasuke’s “darkness” and how naruto views it. another thing i said in the curse of hatred ask is that i don’t think the darkness used in a derogatory way to talk about sasuke wanting justice for his clan is the same darkness of sasuke’s desire to isolate himself. the latter is a darkness that manifests through sasuke’s final plan: a darkness that is about bearing everybody else’s “hatred” (which would be anger against an enemy) all by himself.

i think that’s pretty objective, actually.

and obviously, another thing that is very objective and explicitly stated is that in order to sasuke’s version of hokage to work, he must cut naruto off, he must be alone so he will be able to endure all the hatred himself.

and then we go back to what i talked about in the beginning of this ask. naruto understands that people grow positively with the support they receive from others.

don’t you think it makes sense of naruto to try to give back the love sasuke gave to him in the beginning of the story, since he himself admits that sasuke and iruka changed his heart? well, that’s pretty much textually supported.

“rather… i pray they’re able to reclaim the love they’d lost… not just naruto… but sasuke as well”

even naruto’s explanation of what “friend” means to him is related to not being able to turn his back to sasuke when sasuke is hurting, and he knows sasuke’s isolation is just a way to hurt himself, it is also textually supported that naruto’s issue is with sasuke being alone.

he just can’t turn his back on sasuke, knowing sasuke is perfectly capable of good, like- is there any doubt to naruto that sasuke is good and deserves the positive support (love) like anybody else? sasuke is the one that doubts himself (because of itachi’s influence on his mindset), but naruto doesn’t even hesitate.

i really hope you were able to get my train of thought and understand that even though there is a narrative trying to frame sasuke as wrong one way or another, not every character believes it, nor you should believe it just because it tells you so. i myself can’t take it seriously when i look at it critically.

[kiss-me-cill-me]

prof!crane x student!reader

they haven’t fucked in a while because of summer break or something and when they finally see each other again in college reader’s getting attention from a lot of guys and crane gets super jealous something along those lines, i just your imagination more than mine! <3

smut ofc ;)

thank u lovey 💌

Yesssss I love Professor!Crane and I love this idea hehe 👀 I decided to go with one really annoying guy giving reader attention instead of a bunch, because that's just the way the muse ended up taking me. Thank you for requesting, anon, and I hope you enjoy!!

Independent Variable

Pairing: Professor!Jonathan Crane x Reader

Word Count: 3.6k

Summary: After you catch the eye of an unwanted admirer in Dr. Crane's class, your professor happily teaches you a lesson about just who you belong to.

Warnings: Smut, cockwarming, possessiveness, jealousy, harassment (not from Crane, but a pushy student in reader's class), okay Crane is kinda a jerk as well but like when is he not...

A/N: This fic is part of a series of oneshots set in the same AU. However, there is no real plot aside from Crane and the reader being horny, so you can read them in any order, skip around, etc.

***Please read the warnings before continuing. Minors DNI***

You tossed a notebook onto your desk, and leaned back down to rustle through your bookbag, looking for a pen. As you did, you felt your dress ride up in the back, but made no move to adjust it.

“Hey,” said a voice behind you.

You shot up quickly and spun around, embarrassment flooding your cheeks at the thought of the unfamiliar man standing there, catching a glimpse of something he shouldn’t have. 

“Is this seat taken?”

Your shoulders relaxed as you got a real look at him. The student in front of you looked like he might have just rolled out of bed, despite the fact that this was a 2pm class. His eyes were half-lidded as he gestured at the seat next to you, and you shook your head with a small, friendly smile.

“No, go ahead,” you replied.

As you both settled into your seats, you reminded yourself to pay more attention to your surroundings. Your thoughts had been wandering, almost without noticing it, to your professor. 

Dr. Crane had been on your mind for the entirety of spring break, and being back in his class now was making it even harder to focus on anything else. 

You snuck a brief look at him now, sitting quietly at the front of the room. He was hunched over, grading a stack of papers while he waited for the rest of your classmates to trickle in. It had been only a little over a week since you’d last seen him - and he had given you quite an intimate send-off to make sure you kept him in mind over spring break. But, unfortunately for you, it had only made sure that you’d had nothing but Dr. Crane on your mind for the whole week. Rather than satisfy you, his extra attention only increased your desire. This was your final class of the day, and you’d made plans to see him right after, as you usually did.

“Hey, did you just transfer into this class?” asked the boy next to you. You swiveled around to face him, slumped in his seat and smiling at you. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around before.”

“No, I’ve been here,” you said curtly, though trying not to let too much annoyance creep into your voice. You weren’t really interested in light conversation, but it wasn’t his fault for trying to be friendly.

“Really,” droned the boy. It was less of a question than an advance. “I woulda thought I’d have noticed someone like you.”

Okay, maybe he was slightly less-than-innocent. And entirely too friendly, if you weren’t just imagining the hint of suggestion in his voice. You pressed your lips into a tight smile, suddenly regretting the fact that you’d let him sit next to you.

“Is this your first class with Professor Crane?” he continued.

“Um, no…” you replied, not really wanting to keep the conversation going, but somehow already too trapped to just ignore him.

“Heh, poor you,” said the boy. “I hear he’s the type that likes to fuck people over.”

You had to bite back a laugh. Somehow you doubted that any of Crane’s other students were getting “fucked over” in exactly the same way you were.

When you glanced over again at your professor, his eyes met yours briefly before darting back down to the stack of papers in front of him. The lingering frost of his stare made your toes curl.

“I like his classes,” you hummed, wary of letting your voice take on too much of the airy, dream-like quality that it often did when you thought about Crane. “I find them… stimulating.”

“Brave girl. You must be smart, huh?”

Before you had a chance to answer, Dr. Crane called the class to attention. As he launched into his welcome-back speech - short and to the point before he got on with the actual lesson - you let out a sigh of relief. You were thankful that this particular awkward interaction would be brief. After this class, you were never going to let this guy sit next to you again.

Ten minutes into the lecture, though, you felt a hand brush over your arm.

“Hey,” breathed the guy, his voice hissing all too close to your ear. “Do you have an eraser? I forgot mine.”

You hummed, too low for him to hear it, but with your teeth grating in anger. Why couldn’t he just leave you alone? His hand rested on your arm, and you wanted to pull back and shake it off. Instead, you straightened your back and kept your eyes facing forward.

“No,” you spit back. “I take notes in pen.”

“Ooh, you are smart,” the boy teased, his tone somewhere just past the point of sincere flattery. “Don’t make any mistakes, do you?”

Your teeth mashed together a bit more.

“No wonder you sit in the front row-”

Your one-sided conversation was disrupted, abruptly, by a firm hand slamming down on each desk. You and the boy looked up together, to see Dr. Crane looming over you.

“Is there a problem here?” Crane asked.

“Uhh… no sir,” the boy answered. 

You felt molten heat start to pool in your lap, weaving its way in between your legs. As your eyes trailed up the sleeve of his suit, you couldn’t help but imagine yourself slipping it off of Dr. Crane’s shoulders and throwing it into a corner of the room. This really wasn’t the time or place, much less the ideal situation to be fantasizing in. But the hint of strained possessiveness in his voice had shaken all other thoughts from your head.

“Let’s try to keep personal conversations to a minimum during class,” Crane suggested. He slinked back to his post at the lecturer’s podium.

You almost wanted to fan yourself with your notebook, but resisted the urge. Beside you, the boy let out a petulant grunt, and buried his face in his notes.

As much as you tried to focus on the lesson, you couldn’t help but notice every time Crane’s eyes strayed over to you, studying and astute. Usually he tried not to be so obvious about it. But you caught him staring at you so many times that you started to feel nervous that the rest of the class would notice it too. Somewhere deep in your chest, the thought made your heart flutter.

Unfortunately, you also noticed the multiple times the boy next to you poked and nudged you - always just subtly enough that you couldn’t call him out. His elbow touched yours as he turned to a new page. His foot drifted over to bump gently against the side of your bag on the floor. It was enough to drive you up a wall, but not enough to make a scene.

When class ended, finally, you all but shoved your notebook into your bag, and shot up from your seat like it was on fire. Somehow, Crane was faster than you, and you caught a glimpse of him slipping out of the room as you hurried to follow after.

“Hey! Wait up,” called the guy sitting next to you.

Shit. Not him again. You walked faster, stepping out into the hallway and darting around other students who were still milling about as you made your way to Crane’s office. You were supposed to meet him there, and you really wished you wouldn’t have an annoying little tagalong with you by the time you arrived.

“Where’re you going?” pestered an all too familiar voice.

You didn’t answer, and kept yourself focused on making it to Crane’s office. The walk wasn’t long, but when you arrived there was no sign of Crane. His door was open, though, and you hurried the last few steps to reach it.

“Hey!” the guy called behind you, again. Couldn't he take a hint?

You felt his hand on your arm, and this time you nearly did yank it away. The sheer shock of being touched stopped you, though, and you whirled around to face him, practically seething. The petulant look on his face fueled your anger, and you opened your venomous mouth to speak just as he interrupted you.

“You’re being so rude!” he complained. “I’m just trying to talk to you.”

That sent your brain for a spin. You were the one being rude? When he had just spent an entire class harassing you? You opened your mouth again, but this time, you didn’t have to speak.

“Have you considered that maybe she just isn’t interested in talking to you?”

You would recognize that slightly smug voice anywhere, and you were incredibly glad to hear it. Instantly, your shoulders relaxed as you looked up to see Crane, a piping hot mug in one hand as he idly bobbed a teabag up and down with the other.

“Wh-what?” the annoying boy stammered. 

“Is something the matter?” Crane continued, not bothering to acknowledge the question. “I can’t say I appreciate you interrupting my lesson with your unfortunate attempt at… well, whatever it is you were trying to do.”

Clearly at a loss, the boy’s grip on your arm weakened as he tried to come up with a response. You tried to keep yourself from smiling. Too obviously, anyway. And just past the point where the silence had started to stretch into hopelessness, Crane spoke again.

“Well. If you wouldn’t mind moving, I have a private tutoring session to attend with your classmate here.” He gestured at you. “And you’re blocking my door.”

The boy stepped back, finally letting go of your arm in the process. His scowl was a poor retort to the authority that Crane seemed to exude even as he took a disinterested sip of his tea. You felt something stir inside you again, and you suddenly couldn’t wait to get behind closed doors with your professor. Not just because it meant getting away from this situation. And certainly not for a tutoring session.

“Thank you,” Crane said politely.

He ushered you into his office, careful not to touch you in any overt ways. But even as his hand lingered a few inches away from the small of your back, you could practically feel the energy passing between you. He was so going to get it as soon as that door was closed.

“And next time,” Crane said, turning briefly to shut the door, “I’m docking five points from your grade for every disruption in class.”

With a quick click, the door closed, and you were finally left alone with your professor. You could hear a harsh swear and the stomp of angry feet in the hallway, as the boy from class sulked away. You smiled, and took a step closer to Crane.

“Thank you,” you sighed. “You have no idea how I-”

You’d started to bring your arms up to wrap loosely around his shoulders, but Crane stopped you before you could, to your surprise. Hooking a finger under your chin, he forced you to stop short and looked at you shrewdly.

“I see you made a new friend over spring break,” he observed.

“Ugh. Yuck - no,” you laughed, still trying to wiggle closer so that you could hug him. “That guy was so annoying.”

“Annoying, hm?” Crane hummed. “Maybe I’ll have to start using assigned seats.”

He dropped your chin, and brushed past you while taking a sip of his tea. As he set the mug down on his desk, you spun around to see him settle into his huge leather office chair. You followed, swaying your hips a bit to tease him.

“Just as long as you keep me in the front row,” you said, half-jokingly. 

“Yes, we wouldn’t want you getting distracted by anyone else, now would we?” Crane droned. 

Before you had a chance to ask what he meant, he looked up and crooked a finger at you, beckoning you to come closer. You did, and just as you came to a stop in front of him, Crane grabbed your wrist.

“Actually, I think I might have to move your seat a bit closer than that,” he mused.

Just as you were about to question what could be closer to him than the front row, he turned you around and pulled you down into his lap, making the hair on the back of your neck bristle as he pressed the side of his face against yours.

“After today, I’m starting to think that I’ll need to keep a closer eye on you,” Crane whispered huskily.

As his arms wrapped around your waist, holding you even closer, you squirmed.

“I wasn’t doing anything, though,” you protested. “It was all him.”

It occurred to you that you didn’t even know the rude boy’s name, and the thought made your cheeks heat up. Would that make Crane more annoyed, or less? He must have seen how bothered you were by the unwanted advances in class. Clearly, he was just teasing you, as he so often loved to do. But… what if he really was jealous, and thought you would flirt with anyone who gave you attention?

Slowly, you became aware of a growing bulge, now pressing up into your thigh. Okay, maybe you liked jealous Crane…

“You don’t really think that anything would happen between me and that guy, do you?” you gasped, playing up the shock in your voice.

You felt your back press fully into his chest as he tightened his arms again, pulling you in.

“Do you know what kind of game you’re playing?” Crane scowled behind you.

You did, and you knew that he knew it, too. Just like you knew he was fully aware that you were only playing dumb. But, that had never stopped either of you from having a bit of fun with it.

“I don’t know what you mean,” you sighed, grinding your hips down as your head leaned back to rest on his shoulder.

“Maybe I’ll have to show you then.”

With that, Crane’s hand pushed up the hem of your skirt, swiftly pressing past the fabric of your panties to rub at your slit.

“You’re wet,” he growled. “This had better be from me.”

You didn’t even try to hide the shiver that moved down your spine and straight to his cock, making your hips twist against him again. The armrests of his chair were the only thing available to brace yourself against, and you clutched at them.

Crane swirled his fingers against you again, his other arm keeping you pinned to his lap, and you lost the fight to hold back a shaky breath.

“Already worked up,” he observed. “Were you even paying attention in class?”

“Y-yes,” you insisted.

“Hm.”

Crane forced his hand into the very limited space between your body and his, quickly freeing himself and pressing his now fully-erect cock in between your legs. As you felt it brush against your thighs, you couldn’t help but buck your hips, trying to get a better angle. Crane stilled you, bringing his lips close to your ear as he held you in place.

“Somehow I doubt you were really focusing on the lecture,” he said. “So, I think you and I will have to go over it again. But first…”

He held your panties to the side, repositioning so he could slide himself fully inside of your cunt. It was embarrassing how easily he was able to - your walls offering hardly any resistance as he pressed in.

“Enjoy your new assigned seat.”

You let out a moan as you started to move up and down, slowly at first to warm up to the stretch of him. Almost as soon as you’d started, though, Crane stopped you, hugging you suffocatingly close so that you couldn’t so much as wiggle your hips.

 “No fidgeting in class,” he warned.

You huffed impatiently; the ache that was steadily growing between your legs only somewhat quelled by the way he filled you.

“But we’re not in class,” you protested.

“Didn’t I just tell you?” Crane hissed. “We’re going back over the material. Now…”

He leaned forward to reach for a textbook on his desk, and the small movement caused him to shift just enough to give you a hint of the stimulation you needed. But too soon, it was gone, and Crane had settled back into his chair with you still trapped on his lap, stretched and desperate for friction.

“Do you remember what today’s lesson was about?” he asked wickedly. “Or was your mind already wandering by the time I started talking?”

It was nearly impossible to focus with his voice dripping into your ear like that, and his cock buried so deep inside of you that you were seeing stars. But, you summoned up every last once of attention you could muster to answer him.

“C-clinical trial procedures for use with SSRIs,” you said, grinding your teeth.

“Hm. It almost seems like you were paying attention.”

“I was,” you agreed, quickly seizing the opportunity. “I even took notes. I can show you-”

“Taking notes just proves you can copy down words from a chalkboard,” he interrupted. “I want to make sure you really absorbed the information.”

He punctuated the word with his hips, thrusting up just enough for you to feel it, but so shallow that you couldn’t enjoy the effects for more than a second. You groaned, and felt Crane’s smirk against the shell of your ear.

“Why don’t we open our books to page three hundred and thirty-eight?” he droned, using the same flat, carefully-recited voice that he always did in class. Hearing it so close to your ear made your walls flutter around him, and Crane tapped a finger impatiently on the textbook in front of you, not letting up.

“Can’t you just fuck me?” you whined, not caring how petulant your voice sounded.

“What makes you think I’m going to do that?”

You wished that you weren’t turned away from him, if only so Crane could see the look of utter disbelief on your face. He was balls-deep inside of you, and asking why you thought he was going to fuck you? As if you were sitting across from each other, having an actual tutoring session, and not nearly cumming around his cock.

If only he would let you move.

As you sighed with frustration, an idea came to you. There was one way you could torture him back.

You flexed your muscles, staying perfectly still while your walls squeezed his whole length. You thought you felt him twitch slightly, just a little involuntary movement. But it was hard to tell when your mind was already filling up with thoughts of the way he was sure to bend you over his desk and thoroughly destroy you once you had given him enough incentive.

“C’mon,” you sighed. “Why hold back when you’re obviously dying to make me remember whose cock makes me fall apart? You’re so jealous.”

The smug smile was quickly wiped off your face as Crane’s hands tightened around your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh.

“You think I’m jealous?”

He roughly swirled your hips, not giving you nearly enough friction, but still making you cry out. You wanted to scream for him to touch your clit, move you up and down - do anything. The torture of feeling him inside you, stretching you out with so little movement, was making your whole body burn. And most of the heat was starting to focus right between your legs, on the neglected bundle of nerves that was begging for attention.

“You think it drives me insane to watch someone else touch you?” He moved your hips again, and you felt a sharp pang of frustration. “That I don’t like it when someone else tries to take what’s mine?”

His last word was practically a growl, and you felt yourself clench again, not on purpose this time. The low hiss of his voice in your ear was almost enough to make you come undone, if only he would give you even the briefest hint of physical stimulation where you needed it.

You focused on squeezing him again, rubbing your legs together as much as you could.

“Don’t make me beg,” you pleaded.

“Oh no, sweetheart - you don’t have to beg. Like you said, I’m going to show you just who you belong to.”

With that, Crane’s hips shot up as he bit down harshly on the lobe of your ear. You were shocked to feel warmth spreading deep inside of you - you hadn’t even realized he was close. As he pressed deeper, one of his hands came up to squeeze roughly at your breast, and your mouth fell open.

You sat there together for a moment, Crane breathing a bit more heavily than he had been a few seconds ago. Eventually, you made a move to get up.

“I can’t believe you’re so petty,” you started.

Before you could stand up more than a fraction of an inch, Crane’s hold tightened on you again.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked.

“To clean up.” 

You could feel his cum starting to leak out of you slowly. It dripped down the shaft of his cock, still buried inside you and keeping most of the mess contained.

“I don’t think so,” he said, calmly. He pulled you back, pinning you right where you had been before. “You’re staying right here until we’ve gone over the lesson. And if you still can’t pay attention…” He swirled your hips again in that deliciously infuriating way. “Then I guess we’ll be here for a very long time.”

“You’re infuriating,” you sighed. “I didn’t even do anything wrong!”

“What a shame. Now, where were we?”

As Crane reached forward again to open the textbook, his still-hard cock brushed against your slick walls. You tried to hold back the moan that escaped your lips, but you could feel every inch of him still inside you, and it was no use trying to stop yourself.

Crane brought his lips to your ear as he started to lecture, and you shivered.

Taglist: @cillianslvt, @cillmequick, @dynamitehacke, @franzine-xii, @hanawrites404, @hypotheticallyspeakingwitch, @littlewinter1917, @mothhball, @nnattu, @nocturnest, @red-riding-wood, @sea-star-of-the-ocean, @slut4thebroken

[sagesolsticewrites]

Take A Break

Rosie runs into a childhood friend at the flak house.

Requested by anon, based on the prompts “I kissed you because I wanted to. Dumbass.” and “You’ve got stars in your eyes.”

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction based off the portrayal by the actors in the Apple TV+ series. I hold nothing but respect for the real life individuals referenced within.

As you stood on the front steps of Coombe House, you found yourself nervous for the first time since you’d started there.

Lieutenant Robert Rosenthal was the name at the top of the list of the latest group of soldiers assigned to the house, and since you’d been given it, you couldn’t stop thinking about a childhood friend of yours from Brooklyn with the same name.

Don’t be ridiculous, you scold yourself, reminding the sentimental part of you that the odds of it actually being Robbie were astronomical and you shouldn’t get your hopes up.

Pasting on your best smile as the car filled with boisterous soldiers pulls up, you shove those thoughts away.

“Hello gentlemen!” you call, “I’m Y/N. Welcome to Coombe House.”

You lead them around the house, reciting your spiel about the various activities and amenities, and then passing them off to Michael.

A gentleman who had been hanging towards the back of the group during the tour stepped up, calling your name as the rest of the group was led to their rooms.

“Robert Rosenthal,” he said, introducing himself, “I was just wondering--”

“Robbie?” you gasp.

The brightness in them had dimmed the slightest bit, but you'd recognize those kind blue eyes anywhere.

His brow furrows, no doubt baffled at hearing his childhood nickname all the way over in England.

“I’m sorry, how did you— Wait,” he scans your face, recognizing… something, “Y/N… L/N?”

At your answering nod, you’re tackled in a hug, his joyous, disbelieving laugh filling your ears.

“What are you—? How—?”

“I wanted to help out, and I guess the Army figured this is where my skills would be best put to use,” you explain with a laugh, “When I saw your name on the list I wasn’t sure if it was really you, but…”

“Gosh, Y/N, I haven’t seen you in…”

“Nearly 10 years? I know, I tried to keep in touch after we moved…”

You catch up with your friend, responsibilities forgotten — “So… Rosie, huh?” “Hey, you’d be surprised how little control you have over nicknames in the Army!” — until the clock begins to chime and you realize you’ve spent nearly half an hour just standing here talking.

As Robert begins to excuse himself, not wanting to take up any more of your time, you recall the incident that led to this conversation.

“Er, you said you had a question?”

He hums in confusion before remembering “Oh! Yeah, I was just wondering how long I have to be here…?”

“Unfortunately that’s not really up to me,” you reply with an apologetic shrug, “It’s the decision of your CO to send you boys out here, but you’re welcome to chat to Dr. Huston about it.”

“Though while you’re here,” you say as he’s about to walk away, “I’d recommend taking advantage of the baths and hot water. Absolutely life-changing.” You add with a teasing grin.

He lets out a laugh, though not nearly as genuine as you’d hoped. With that, Rosie thanks you and departs with a two-fingered salute

Robert spends the first couple days at the house keeping his distance from his crewmates, his eyes continually on the sky rather than taking part in the sports and activities available to the soldiers. He doesn’t seem like the boy you remember, but… well, there is a war going on. It’s changed everyone it touches.

One night you find yourself wandering the halls, unable to sleep, when you hear music coming from one of the sitting rooms.

“Hello?” You call softly, following the sounds of Duke Ellington to find Robert standing next to the record player, staring out the window at the darkened English countryside, soft curls tinted slightly blue in the moonlight.

He starts, then relaxes once he sees you.

“Hey,” he says, turning down the volume, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you-”

“I was up already,” you assure him, “Couldn’t sleep?”

“I guess I’m having a hard time with,” he gestures to the lavish country house with a shrug, “all this? I mean… all the croquet, badminton, riding with hounds— what even is that, by the way?”

Your lips twitch up into a smile as you move to stand beside him, “Foxhunting.”

“Foxhunting,” he sighs, shaking his head, “That’s exactly what I don’t need right now.”

He turns his gaze to the star-filled night sky, “What I need is to be back in that seat getting this job done.”

He continues, talking to himself almost as much as you, “Sittin’ here doing nothing, when people are bein’ persecuted and— I can’t— I had gotten into a rhythm, you know? Three days, three missions, easy. And now being yanked out of that, it’s like…”

He searches for an analogy, and you can’t help but smile at the one he lands on, recalling his fascination with music back when you were children.

“You don’t yank Gene Krupa out in the middle of a drum solo, and then expect him to pick right back up where he left off two weeks later, you know?”

You nod, understanding where he’s coming from. You recognized that while some jumped at the chance for a distraction, it was a more difficult adjustment for some soldiers to be thrust into this environment after so long in battle.

“Well, Gene Krupa’s not just responsible for his own rhythm, is he?” You say softly, following his analogy, “He’s responsible for the rhythm of the whole band. And if he’s off, then…”

Rosie nods, letting out a soft laugh, “Okay, I see where you’re going with that.”

“Seriously, Robbie,” you say, taking a chance and resting your hand on top of his on the windowsill, his gaze meeting yours at your touch, “If you don’t let yourself take a break, even just for a little while… it’s not gonna be good.”

He’s silent, and for a moment you worry you’ve overstepped.

Until he mumbles, in a voice so soft you’re not even sure you were meant to hear it, “You’ve got stars in your eyes.”

Maybe it’s the soft sounds of Duke Ellington still playing. Maybe it’s the moonlight, the calm silence filling the house.

Maybe it’s the way he’s looking at you like you’re the first good thing he’s seen in a long time.

You’re not quite sure what, but something possesses you to surge up onto your toes and press your lips to his.

His hand moves to your waist, pulling you closer, before he abruptly pulls away.

“I, ah…” He says, seemingly trying to gather his thoughts, “You didn’t just do that because you felt… sorry for me or somethin’, did you?”

Relief floods through you— he’s concerned with why you kissed him, not the mere fact that you did.

You cup his cheek, and Rosie’s eyes close, leaning into your touch as you say softly, “I kissed you because I wanted to.”

Then, after a moment’s consideration, you add with a smile, “Dumbass.”

His eyes shoot open as he barks out a laugh.

“Oh, that’s how it is, huh?”

Your giggles are swiftly silenced by his lips landing on yours once more, the tension finally leaving his shoulders for the first time in weeks.

The two of you end up on the couch, talking late into the night about what brought you to England, Rosie mostly telling you in hushed tones about the friends he’d made in the 100th— men that were no longer here, but lived on in his memory, and now yours. You fall asleep leaning against each other, still holding hands.

You shift, eyes fluttering open as the gray dawn light filters into the room. It takes you a moment to get your bearings, but you grin seeing Rosie asleep next to you, looking the most relaxed you’ve seen him since he arrived. With a single kiss to his forehead, you slip away to the women’s wing of the house until it’s an appropriate hour for you to stumble upon him in the sitting room.

Armed with a thick blanket and a coffee service, you creep in to see Rosie still sound asleep. Smiling, you gently lay the blanket over him, trying not to wake him. Unfortunately, he stirs the moment the blanket touches him.

He looks around, attempting to orient himself, and relaxes when he sees you.

“Good morning,” you grin, taking in his sleep-mussed curls shining golden in the morning light, “Coffee?”

“Please,” he replies in a voice rough with sleep, mustache twitching up into a smile as he sits up.

“Just don’t tell anyone, alright?” You say coyly as you prepare a cup, “I can’t be bringing all you boys breakfast in bed, now can I?”

“Well, I must be special,” he grins, taking the cup gratefully and adding with a wink, “I’ll take it to the grave.”

You’re glad to see him relax a tiny bit more over the group’s last few days at the house, and the two of you are able to find plenty of stolen moments together once everyone’s gone to bed.

When it’s time for them to return to base, he leaves you with a promise to write and a kiss. He captures your lips tenderly on the front steps, disregarding the whoops and cheers from his crew mates waiting in the Jeep, and you can’t help smiling despite yourself as they drive away, keeping your eyes on him for as long as you can.

[cissyenthusiast010155]

Give Me What I Want ~Bratty!Bottom!Larissa Weems xFem Wife!Teacher!Reader

Summary— You won’t give into a bratty Larissa. No matter how much she persists…

Anon Request— Wanted to ask for two separate requests. One Morticia and one Larissa (two separate posts), but they’re both bottoms. Like really bratty bottoms. Thank you for taking the time to read this. You don’t have to do both you could just do one or the other or none. Sorry if that doesn’t make sense. But thank you I love your stuff!! Anon Response— Thank you for the request, anon!! Here’s the first one, a bratty Larissa. Hope you Enjoy! ♥️

Mommy… Master List

Requests & Prompt-List

Warnings: NSFW, 18+!, heavily implied smut, used sex toy, implied masturbation, nudity, comforting, light physical touch, teasing, flustering, bratting, begging, implied begging kink, etc.

Enjoy (;

Larissa let out yet another loud and dramatic groan. She was sitting at her desk, working away, and you were sitting by the fire, reading.

Every few minutes, the woman would groan needily. And every time the groan got louder and more like a moan. A minute passed before she groaned again.

“Larissa May…” you hummed warily, not looking up from your book.

You only used her full name in professional settings or when she was bratting and you needed her attention.

Larissa straightened up a bit at the sound of her given name.

“Yes Darling…?” Her sultry tone replied with a deceptive innocent cover over it.

“Do you need something…?” You hummed.

You knew she did. She needed sex. Or to masturbate. But she wasn’t allowed to. She had been teasing you and bratting all of yesterday and into today. She would not be rewarded for that kind of behavior, not on your watch.

Larissa groaned again in response, slouching and leaning back in her seat.

“Use your words…” you hummed across the room.

Larissa grumbled something that you couldn’t quite make out. You finally put the book down and came over to her desk, standing on the opposite side and placing your hands down on the desk.

Larissa looked at you from her slouched position.

“Touch me, Darling…?” She whined.

You shook your head.

“Nuh uh, you haven’t earned that.”

Larissa replied in a groan, then standing up.

“Maybe I’ll just do it myself…!” She huffed, making a dramatic attempt to run off to her attached private quarters in her office. You swiftly moved in front of the door, blocking her from access to her bedroom.

“Nope.” You crossed your arms in an attempt to show your unwavering mind.

“You are mean…, so mean… you know that right?” Larissa huffed, going back to her desk to sit back down with another groan.

“Then you should have been good.” You quipped with a shrug of your shoulders.

Larissa’s response was to stick her tongue out in you in a playful manner.

You had never seen this woman so bratty before…

“That,” you pointed at her scowling expression and out stuck tongue, “is not helping your case. Behave.”

You then turned around and went to sit back down on your chair by the fire. You picked up your book and continued to read.

Time went by, and you went from reading back to grading , and while Larissa had stopped groaning so dramatically, she was now whimpering and every time you looked your way, she gave you the biggest puppy dog eyes.

And she also got distracted more and more from her work. You caught her giggling as she looks at her phone screen from time to time. You knew she was probably texting with Marilyn, comparing to her about how unfairly you were treating her.

But you just continued to ignore her tactics. A couple hours, you and Larissa decided to call it a night, both retreating into your shared private quarters for the night. Larissa looked at you hopefully as the two of you got into bed. But you simply gave her a kiss good night, wished her sweet dreams, and then turned to the other side facing away from her.

The next morning, Larissa was just as fired up and determined to get her fix from you. Her hands along your figure were wandering all morning, teasing you endlessly. She joined you in the shower too, beginning to kiss your exposed collar bone, but you swiftly turned around and put Larissa back in her place.

You both arrived at the staff room early that morning, Larissa reorganizing the room from the last days and you making the morning coffee for all your colleagues. That’s when Marilyn walked in, holding her morning cup of tea.

“Morning, you two…” she hummed suggestively, taking a sip of her tea afterwards.

“Morning…” Larissa grumbled.

“Morning!” You chirped.

Marilyn eyed the two of you.

“I see that Larissa hasn’t gotten what she wants?”

You chuckled and hummed with a nod, to which Larissa scoffed.

“She is being ridiculous.” Larissa huffed, obviously that being a no to Marilyn’s question.

Marilyn laughed dryly a little, smiling in amusement at the interaction between the two of you.

“Well, for what it’s worth, I am sorry, Larissa…” Marilyn spoke to Larissa, then turning to you and whispering, “Don’t give in”

She gave you a not so well hidden thumbs up with the hand closer to you, but Larissa immediately caught Marilyn’s whispering and hand motion.

“Hey!! Mar, I thought you were on my side??” Larissa whined.

“Jesus, it is bad.” Marilyn chuckled, taking another sip from her mug, glancing at Larissa and then towards you in sympathy.

“You both are mean…!” Larissa scoffed, leaving the staff room in a huff.

You couldn’t help but chuckle, as you watched Larissa storm off. Marilyn gave you a sympathetic smile and walked out, most likely back to her greenhouse to prepare for her first class.

The day went by, and you didn’t hear much of anything from Larissa. This made you suspicious. So during lunch, you made your way to your shared private quarters to find the woman.

But you didn’t find her in the bedroom, instead you found an obviously used vibrating dildo placed right at the center end of your bed, still coated in lube and what you knew what your wife’s juices. You then heard the shower start, and you immediately went to the bathroom, only to find a nude Larissa in the shower.

You gasped lightly, giving you away, and making the talk blonde turn around and give you the most mischievous grin.

“Hello Darling… How was your day…?” She cooed mischievously.

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“You know that you are digging yourself a deeper hole, right?”

Larissa bit her lips and shrugged.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about…” she suggestively cooed, “My day was amazing, thank you for asking.”

You took a deep breath, and left without another word. You went back into the bedroom, grabbing the used sex toy, and returning to the bathroom.

“Clean this.” You said while placing the toy on the bathroom counter.

Then you actually left, needing to get the woman out of your mind. She had successfully started to get under your skin, and you needed to take a breather. You went back to your classroom for the rest of your classes and grading.

It was late evening, you had finished your grading for the day and you were tired. So you finally made your way back to Larissa. You entered her office without knocking. As soon as you entered, Larissa stopped all that she was doing.

“Thank goodness you’re here, Darling” the blonde exclaimed, standing up and coming over to meet you in the middle of the room.

She went to embrace you, and you allowed it. At least for a a couple seconds, before backing up out of the embrace.

“I… I made it worse…” Larissa confessed, looking down at the ground and biting her lip.

You couldn’t help but chuckle, bringing your hands to the woman’s shoulders. Larissa hummed in delight at the touch you were giving her.

“Should have listened to me…” you teasingly cooed.

Larissa went red.

“Shut up…” she muttered.

You grabbed her chin, swiveling her gaze to your eye level.

“What do you want, hmmm…?”

“You. Need you…” She whispered.

You smirked, dropping all touch from Larissa, making her whine.

“Then beg.”

Larissa’s mouth nearly dropped and her eye widened.

“I—No.” she scoffed.

“Oh well, then I can’t help you…” you said with a shrug, starting to walk to the door to your bedroom.

But Larissa grabbed your wrist, turning you back to her after a couple of steps.

“Wait…!”

You tuned around, looking at the woman with a smirk.

“Yes…?” You purred.

Larissa took a heavy breath, then she marched to the bedroom, pulling you by your wrist. You allowed it mainly because you thought she was about to break. She closed the door behind you, then she asked you to sit on the edge of the bed.

Larissa now stood in front of you, shuffling your feet.

“Please…” she whispered.

“What…?” You teasingly cooed, “I can’t hear you, ‘Rissa…”

“Please Darling… please fuck me…” she breathed out, her eyes screen shut and her fists clenched.

“Mhmmmm…” you hummed, not quite satisfied, “Kneel. And say it with your eyes open.”

Larissa’s breath hitched and she gritted her teeth. She wanted it so bad… bad enough to beg…?

Apparently so, as Larissa dropped to her knees after a minute, and looked up at you with open eyes.

“Please fuck me, Y/N, I need you… Only you can satiate my needs… please Darling… I’m desperate…!”

You smirked and cupped the woman’s chin. Larissa hummed, closing her eyes and happily leaning into the little touch you gave.

“You look so good when you beg, ‘Ris…” you cooed.

You retracted all touch once more.

“But you haven’t apologized for what you’ve done these last few days…”

Larissa’s eyes widened again and she gulped. Her eyes glinted in that mischievous nature once more.

“I—I’m not sorry for that.” Larissa suddenly quipped.

You sighed, getting off the bed.

“Then I can’t help you…” you sighed lightly, leaving Larissa kneeling in front of the bed with an open mouth.

~~~

Larissa Weems Masterlist

[kit-williams]

Barn Anon. Pre-heresy Angron but my headcanon is the bond sort of numbs the effects of the Nails. However it’s proximity based and the moment he gets too far the Nails are back in full force. How much it numbs the Nails? Who knows! Some days it’s better, other days it’s worse.

Some days he pities you. This poor human that has to deal with him. He’s fully aware that he’s more than likely the worst guest, or rather housemate given how often he’s at your place now. Other days he’s lost in the haze of anger and fury. Then there’s the days that he feels like himself, his true self, the Angron before the Nails.

He wants to beg for forgiveness for the things he has said and done, wants to chase you off before the Nails’ influence creeps back in and consume him once more. He knows he’s a mess and he knows you deserve better. Somehow you haven’t run from him, you’re still here and patiently supporting and helping him, ever patient and kind. He has seen his World Eaters, the ones before and after this…. Heresy that they speak of.

When the Nails’ influence are at its lowest, he feels the guilt, regret and self-loathing once more. His World Eaters deserved a better Primarch, just as you deserve a better bond-partner.

DID I JUST MAKE/CONFIRM THE HUSBANDRY AU IS A FIXIT FIC?

WELL FUCK YOU I LIKE FIXING ANGRON

Angron is interested in this strange world... half successful of removing nails from his sons just getting a few out would be better then nothing at all. Given who he is and what he is... several apotocaries are joining to watch the surgery... it seems none of his apothocary sons joined him here as he is certain they are the ones to put the nails into their brothers.

He watches you knit as today is a day that they don't dig into his brain... the guilt eats at him and yet you seem to know when he is deep in his thoughts. "You nervous about Surgery Angron?" You ask looking up at him as your hands do their practiced motions.

"No." He says looking down at her. "Why do you keep me around?"

You make a dismissve noise, "Why do you say it like that? Like you're some animal unworthy of a kind hand?"

"Because I am."

"You're not. Sure you can say you don't deserve it but I'm going to overrule you on that."

He lets out a wicked noise not exactly a laugh but not something dismissive either, "Mouthy little creature aren't you?"

"I aim to please Angron."

Before he can say something a nurse walks out, "We're ready."

"I'll be nearby." You reply.

And all Angron can think is he hopes he either wakes up with less pain or doesn't wake up at all.

[ask-the-rag-dolly]

// I just wanted to say it’s so cool how you managed to make such an engaged community with this blog. Most character ask blogs I see don’t really engage with their community other than to move the plot forwards or just answering questions, which is fine of course!! I just love how you’ve given these people the ability to be part of the story and be such a key point in the lore.

Our actions have consequences!! I fuckin love that shit!!

Along with seeing people develop their own characters (as anons) as you develop the plot + your own characters. Seeing you welcome other people’s creativity through the Anon designs and recurring signatures (not gonna act like I don’t get excited when I see familiar tags like Exhausted, =), 13, Small Anon, A2, etc) is so fuckin cool and I really haven’t seen that anywhere else, not to this extent atleast.

JUST!! THANK YOU FOR BEING SO COOL AND WELCOMING MOD BEE!! :D

this took me a horribly long time to reply but hi , thank you very much ! ^^ i guess i just found it fun to leave most of the direction of the plot to whatever ask i get instead of planning everything in advance ( seriously a lot of things here are made up on the spot ... there's been a bunch of additions to the scraps document ) and i'm glad that people are appreciating that aspect of the account ... it's kind of a relief seeing people embrace the anons actually i was worried for a bit that they might seem too out of place ^^;

but yeah i did not expect the community i created here and honestly i like it (: thanksies for being dedicated to ... tormenting a lesbian rag doll

[wordsbyrian]

Good with Kids - Alexia x Reader

Summary: Alexia and R go to see R's family in Valencia over the holiday break.

A/N: This was requested by a Anon who wished to see Alexia and R interacting with a neice or something like that.

The locker room of Barcelona’s women's team is chaotic on a good day but today, the last day of training before the holiday break, made a typical day look tame.

Training had just finished and the noise level was incredible as everyone spoke at the same time discussing their holiday plans.

You, however, are content to just sit and watch it happen more than used to the amount of noise your teammates can make at any given moment.

Your teammates on the other hand aren’t just going to let you sit in your locker you realize as you’re pulled to your feet by Patri and Mariona.

“Y/N/N, smile,” Patri says, wiggling your arms in an attempt to make you dance.

“I am smiling,” you say, plastering a fake grin onto your face, “I just don’t feel like dancing, I’m tired.”

As soon as the words come out of your mouth, the volume of the speaker decreases dramatically.

“Thank you,” you say, going back to your locker to finish gathering your things.

“You know, Y/N, you’re the only one who hasn’t told everyone what you’re doing over the break,” Mapi shouts from across the room.

“I haven’t told you because the last thing I want is you showing up and causing havoc Leon,” you reply, not hearing the locker room door open.

“Y/N/N be nice.”

You hear your girlfriend before you see her, she’s finally made it back to the changing room after having hung back to speak with Jona.

“Yea, Y/N/N, be nice,” Mapi mimics.

“Leon, you can take it nice and shove it up,” you’re cut off by a hand covering your mouth.

The body it’s attached to is your girlfriend’s and she's practically shouting ‘why can’t you just do as you’re told?’.

From across the room, you can hear Mapi snickering but out of the corner of your eye, you can see Ingrid shoot her a look that shuts her up.

“Well now that both of the clowns are in trouble,” Pina begins, “Ale, can you please tell us what Y/N is doing for the holidays.”

There’s a slight whine to her voice and you groan, tossing your head back because you know that Alexia will cave, everyone does when it comes to Pina.

“We’re going to see her family in Castello,” she says, finally removing her hand and heading to her own locker to gather her belongings.

“Wait we,” Aitana questions, “I thought you said that you were going on a trip with your mom and sister.”

“It’s the same trip Tana, they’re going to see the in-laws,” Mapi says, barely dodging the dirty sock you fling across the room, “Love you too, Y/N.”

“I think I’ll miss you the least,” you say, knowing that you’re lying through your teeth and everyone else knows it too.

You and Mapi are partners in crime most days and the two of you will probably spend a good chunk of the break texting about your next prank.

Eventually, everyone begins to make their way out of the locker room and to their apartments and homes, off to enjoy their short breaks.

Two days and one long car journey later, you and the Putellas women are all sitting in the living room of your mom’s house waiting for your brother to arrive with his wife and children.

“Mami, I thought you said Chimo was supposed to be here by now,” you say, slightly whining.

“Calmat, Y/N/N, I know you're excited to meet the new baby but you can’t ask me every five minutes,” your mom replies exasperatedly.

“No offense to baby Pepo but I have no interest in seeing him until does things other than sleep all day, I just want to see my mini-me.” This gets you a solid glare from your mother but it gets laughs from Ale and Alba so you can’t find it within yourself to care.

Chimo and his family do eventually arrive and you rush to the door to greet them.

“Valeria,” you say, picking up the 5-year-old. Quickly remembering your manners you greet the others before turning your attention back to your niece, “Val, mi sol, how are you?”

“Bien,” she says, wiggling in your arms, “Did you bring Ale?”

“Si, she’s in the living room.” Before you can even fully finish your sentence, Valeria has squirmed her way out of your arms and is running into the living room.

“That’s brutal,” your brother says, “Want to help me grab the bags.”

Rolling your eyes, you tell him that you can handle it, before going to grab their stuff and put it in his room.

When you come back down you aren’t surprised to see everyone but ALexia and Valeria fawning over the baby.

The two of them are sitting in the corner talking about everything that has happened since they saw each other 3 weeks ago. The 5-year-old apparently had a very interesting few weeks at school.

You on the other hand are perfectly content to sit back and watch everyone interact, at least that’s what you planned to do until Vanessa and Alba sit down on either side of you.

“Do you always watch Alexia with such massive heart eyes,” your sister-in-law asks.

“She does,” Alba says before you have a chance to answer, “She also follows her around like a lovesick puppy. Isn’t that right, Y/N/N?”

Trying to ignore the way your cheeks are heating up, you glare at Alba hoping she gets the hint to leave you alone.

She doesn’t.

“The real question is whether you’re more jealous of Ale for stealing your niece or your niece for stealing Ale,” she asks to the amusement of your sister-in-law.

“Look at her face, the answer is neither Y/N’s so in love right now that she’s imagining having kids with your sister,” Vanessa says, nudging you slightly.

Rolling your eyes, you get up and leave the room hoping to escape the unwanted, but true, teasing.

You find yourself in the kitchen digging through the pantry knowing that you stashed away some of your favorite snacks the last time you were here.

You’re so stuck in your head that you don’t even realize someone else has entered the space until a pair of arms wind themselves around your waist and a kiss is placed on the back of your shoulder.

Turning around, you’re not surprised when Alexia drops her head to your chest.

“Vali has more energy every time I see her,” she mumbles against you.

Laughing slightly, you kiss her head before responding, “Chimo and Vanessa let her nap on the way here; I think they do it on purpose to torture us.”

“Speaking of torture,” she says, very subtly trying to change the subject, “What did Alba say to make you leave like your ass was on fire?”

“Nothing special, they were just making fun of the way I looked while watching you with Vali.”

“Oh, really? And how did you look while watching us?”

“Like it was the best thing I’d ever seen,” you say, looking deep into her eyes.

Before she has a chance to respond, you hear your mom yelling about how you better not be in there ruining your appetite, it’s closely followed by a loud comment from your brother about how that’s not the appetite you’re trying to sate at the moment.

You and Ale share a glance knowing that you’re not finished with the conversation.

Except you don’t ever get to finish the conversation, as the next few days are filled with the chaos that comes with big family gatherings.

Even right now, when you should be sleeping, you’re standing in the kitchen making hot chocolate because Valeria woke you up saying she had a nightmare that ‘only tia can fix.’

So there you are in the kitchen, swaying to nonexistent music, holding your niece hoping that she’ll go back to sleep without the hot drink, even though you know it’s unlikely.

Looking at the pot you realize that you're going to have to put her down to pour the drinks.

That happens without issue, it isn’t until the two of you are sitting next to each other that she tells you what’s wrong.

“Tia,” she says softly, “when you and Ale have kids are you still going to love me?”

Slightly shocked it takes you a minute to respond.

“Valeria Dolores, I will never stop loving you,” you say, turning to make sure she’s looking at you. “It doesn’t matter how far away I live or how many kids I have, you will always be mi sol, comprende.”

“Pero.”

You cut her off, “But nothing, where did you even get the idea that Alexia and I are having kids from?”

“Abuelita told Eli that you looked at Ale like you wanted her to have your kids.”

“Clearly, every adult in this house needs to be more careful about what they say around you, Vali,” you say, shaking your head at your mother’s carelessness. “Sometimes adults, especially abuelitas, say things without remembering that kids are around. Besides, I have to get Ale to agree to marry me before we even think about having kids.”

“Ok,” she says, seemingly dropping the subject and continuing to sip her hot chocolate.

20 minutes later, you find yourself carrying her into the room you’re sharing with Alexia. Where you’re surprised to see your girlfriend awake and scrolling on her phone.

“What are you doing up,” you ask, placing Valeria in the center of the bed, not even shocked when she immediately curls into Alexia’s side.

“You weren’t in bed,” she responds, “I thought her parents were trying to get her to spend the entire night in her own bed.”

“Eh, Chimo’s not the boss of me; besides she would be in here in a few hours asking to open presents, I’ve bought everyone at least an hour this way,” you say, climbing in yourself.

“You’re very good with her. I heard what you told her in the kitchen.”

You blush slightly, “How much did you hear?”

“Enough to know that I will say yes whenever you’re ready to ask me,” she says leaning over to kiss you softly before laying down, “Bon Nadal, mi amor.”

“Bon Nadal.”

[something-bout-the-weather]

I Missed You / Matty Healy x Reader

Hey! This is some cute fluff about Matty being clingy on the tour bus after not seeing you for a while. Thank you to the anon for requesting and inspiring this one! Enjoy ❤️

Matty and his band, The 1975, have been travelling all over America touring their latest album and show for the past two months now. You would have done anything to be on tour with them too. You wouldn’t even mind sleeping in the tour bus bunks, if it meant you got to see Matty. Unfortunately, due to work commitments, you’ve not been able to travel with them and haven’t seen Matty since you said a tearful goodbye to him at London Heathrow Airport.

That is, until this weekend. Having managed to meet all your deadlines at work, your boss has given you the next week off. As soon as you got the news, you rang Matty and excitedly booked flights to Toronto, which was their next tour stop.

So, that’s why you find yourself on a Sunday afternoon searching for your suitcase on the baggage carousel at Toronto International Airport. You’ve never wanted your bag to appear quicker because you know waiting in a car park outside, in the tour bus, is Matty and you have missed him more than words can say.

The sight of your bright red suitcase brings a massive smile to your face as you quickly grab it and practically run to where you know the tour bus is waiting.

Standing outside the tour bus door, like a mirage on the horizon, is Matty. He is dressed in a pair of baggy joggers and a top that says ‘Ratty Healy’ which immediately makes you giggle. His unruly curls fly everywhere as he starts running towards you. You instantly let go of your suitcase, not caring where it lands, and run right into his open arms.

“Hey baby,” Matty mumbles into your hair, “I’ve missed you so much.”

“I’ve missed you too,” you say looking up at him before your gaze falls to his lips. You can’t help but pull him into a passionate kiss.

The pair of you seemingly forget you are out in public for all to see, until George’s voice shouts “Oi, lovebirds get inside the bus we are on a schedule!” making the two of you abruptly pull away from one another.

“Jesus Daniels! You could have just given me a minute to get some action,” Matty replies, before placing a hand on the small of your back and guiding you towards the tour bus.

You spend the next hour catching up with the rest of the band. Matty won’t let you leave his side and it is clear how much he missed you. His hand has been intertwined with yours from the minute you sat down at the tour bus table and his thumb keeps gently caressing the back of your hand. It is lovely to catch up with the guys and hear them talk about the shows they’ve had so far and just be back in Matty and the bands company.

Before Ross can start another story, Matty turns to face you and asks, “Darling, would you like a tour of your home for the next few days?”

“Yes please,” you say before raising to your feet.

Holding out his hand for you to take, he guides you towards the stairs in the back corner of the bus and begins leading you up them before saying, “So, you’ve already seen where we cook, eat and hang out most of the time, but there is a lot more to this house on wheels.”

As you reach the top of the stairs, you are greeted with a corridor. Along it are twelve bunks that the band and their crew have been living in for the last few weeks. You don’t know how they manage to sleep in such a small bunk but you are going to have to get used to it for a few days.

“Here’s my bunk,” Matty says pointing towards one of the twelve bunks. On the wall in his bunk is a picture of you which he took before he left for America.

“Why, of all the pictures of me did you pick that one Matty?” you ask.

“Because, my love, you look beautiful in and it made it feel like you were here somehow!” He says before kissing your forehead.

“Well, where’s my bunk for the next few days?” you question.

“This one,” Matty says pointing to the bunk under his, “But, you aren’t sleeping in there tonight.”

“Why not?” you ask confused

“You’re going to share with me! I’ve missed you too much and I’m sure we can both squeeze into my bunk,” he replies.

“I’m not convinced we will Matty, but if you insist,” you say defeatedly before a yawn escapes your lips, your tiredness taking you by surprise.

“Are you sleepy love?” Matty asks concerned.

“Very sleepy," you say through another yawn.

“How about we delay the rest of the bus tour and test out if we can both fit in my bunk?” He suggests.

“Only if you’re sure we won’t break it,” you reply.

Matty gently lifts you into the bunk before climbing in after you and squeezing in beside you. You feel his arms wrap around you as he says, “Get some sleep baby, I love you so much.”

You don’t have the chance to reply before sleep takes over and you relax into Matty’s warm embrace.

The bunks may be a tight squeeze but the pair of you will make it work for the next few days. Well, you’ll have to because Matty is reluctant to leave your side and honestly, you’re enjoying clingy Matty.

[tropes-and-tales]

You Fit with Me

December 15:  Marshmallows/Cabin - Fish out of water (Ray Merrimen x F!reader)

(From the winter prompts found here)

CW:  Slight angst; Ray being as fluffy as Ray can possibly be (not very)

Word Count:  879

AN:  Requested by anon!

“We don’t have to stay for long,” you promise, and Ray snorts but doesn’t reply.

He could point out that of course you’re going to stay at least for a night.  The cabin your friends rented is in Lakeshore, five hours north of L.A. on a day without traffic.  

He could point out that you both have bags packed for a multiple night stay.  

He could point out the obvious—that you are going to stay for a while.

He doesn’t say anything.  The way you hedge around the length of your stay tells him everything he needs to know:  you’re nervous about this long weekend with him and your friends.  And Ray can guess that you aren’t necessarily nervous about him (he’s taciturn but housetrained, not a complete menace) or your friends (they’re bubbly and chipper to a psychotic degree, but they have always been accepting of him dating you).  

If Ray had to guess, you’re nervous because you never ask him for anything.  In all the shit he’s put you through—the worry, the angst—you’ve never asked him for a single thing.  Until this.

A long weekend with your friends.  One is newly married, another is taking a job in Austin, and your group is splintering.  Growing up.  Life shit.  You want to spend the last hurrah with them, but they invited their significant others, so you had asked Ray—

Makes him feel like a piece of shit, when he replays how heartbreakingly casual you were when you asked him.  No big deal if you can’t, you had said.  If you can’t make it work.

Makes him feel like a piece of shit, but he can’t blame you.  He’s a closed-off person, and he has never once given voice to how he feels about you.  When you tell him you love him, he grunts, says something half-assed and non-committal like, “you too.”

You should have left him a long time ago, but you stick to him like a burr.  More loyal than any military buddy or member of his heist crew.  A loyal girl with a heart of gold, the rarest thing in the world and he still managed to score you, unbelievable as it may be.

-----

Halfway into the drive up to the cabin, he stops for gas.  

He can tell you’re nervous still.  He can feel the tension radiating off of you, and you sit in the passenger seat while he pumps the gas, cleans the windshield.

Once done, he doesn’t climb back into the car.  He walks over to the passenger’s side and knocks on your window.

“C’mon,” he says, jerking his head towards the store.  “Let’s get some drinks and snacks.”

“Nah, I’m good.”

He opens your door, holds out a hand to you.  “Bullshit.  You love snacks.”

You let him pull you out of the car, but when you go to step past him, he blocks you.  Takes advantage of his height (and breadth) advantage and stares you down until you finally look up at him, a quizzical look on your face.

“This’ll be fun,” he says, his voice low and steady.  “Haven’t been up north in a long time.”

“I promise we can leave whenever—”

“Stop.”  He hooks a hand under your chin, holds you fast to keep you looking at him.  “I’m here because I want to be, understand?”

You nod against his hold, and he pinches your chin lightly to drive the point home.

“Have I ever done anything I didn’t want to do?  Huh?”

You smile, your cheeks curving under his hand.  “Never.”

“So there.  I want to be here.  Okay?”

“Okay.”

He hesitates, then adds, “I know I don’t fit in with your friends.”  He snorts, a little bitter.  “I don’t fit in with most people.”

You lay your hand on his chest, smoothing out the wrinkles on his shirt.  “You fit with me,” you reply, and there’s a sad questioning lilt to how you say it, like you believe it but maybe you think he doesn’t.

“I do.”  He puts his other hand over where yours rests against his sternum.  “Stop worrying about me.  If the girl-talk gets too much, me and the other guys will go off somewhere and talk manly shit.  Sports.  Cars.  Whatever.”

“I appreciate it, Ray.  I know you don’t—”

He cuts you off gently, doesn’t let you get the rest of that sentence out.  “And then,” he adds pointedly, “after all the girl-talk and friendship bullshit, you and I are going to go to that loft bedroom and I’m gonna make you come so many times that those girls are gonna be jealous.”

You flex your hand against his chest, claw him playfully.  “Such a sweet talker, Ray.”  But there’s a glint in your eye when you say it.  He knows you’ll be thinking about it for the second half of the trip to the cabin.

“And I want some fucking s’mores.  Cabin by the lake, I damned well better get s’mores.”

You laugh.  “Didn’t take you for a s’mores man.”

He releases your face but dips his head, kisses your smiling mouth.  “I want it all.  Graham crackers and chocolate, marshmallows burnt to shit over an open fire.”

“I think we can arrange that, big guy.”

[wishingforatypewriter]

Trick or Treat! Share a snippet, headcanon, art, or vibes with your followers, then pass it on. 🎃

Happy Halloween, anon! Here's a little Linzolt!

The voyage to Agna Qel’a was several days too long by Lin’s count. She blamed the vessel’s glacial pace on its owner’s desire to keep the passengers buying the overpriced alcohol onboard for as long as possible. 

“We’re taking an airship back,” Lin declared once they disembarked at the North Pole. “And you are never talking me into another cruise.”

“You seemed to enjoy the amenities. Especially that hot tub out on our balcony,” Zolt replied with a smirk, his arms encircling her waist as they waited for their gondola. She would never have allowed him to hold her like this back home—not unless she wanted them on the front page of the Republic Gazette—but here, halfway around the world, she let herself lean into his warmth the way she might have thirty years ago. 

She glanced up at him, wearing an expression that she hoped was sufficiently stern. “I’ve already missed too much work and we haven’t even been here a day.”

Zolt raised an eyebrow. “Linny, if your cops can’t keep things together without you for a few weeks, what the fuck are they gonna do once you retire?” 

“Retire?” Lin scrunched her face up in disgust. “I don’t plan on doing that for another fifty years at least.”

“I don’t doubt it, baby,” he said and left a kiss on her cheek. 

Lin rolled her eyes, doing all she could to hide her smile. “Just start loading up the boat.”

Zolt started with the simple dark green duffel bag she’d had for at least a dozen years, and then began to move his own massive luggage. By the time he loaded his third travel trunk onto the small boat, Lin was sure that it would start sinking before they reached their hotel. 

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you packed your entire wardrobe,” she said once they’d settled into the water taxi and given directions to the gondolier. “But this probably isn’t even a third of it.” 

“Not even close,” he said. “I guess you remember from back when we lived together.” 

“I remember having to fight for closet space to hang up my uniforms.” 

“We’ll have to get a place with more closets next time.” 

Lin raised an eyebrow. “Next time?” 

“If you’re interested, that is.”

[variousqueerthings]

Hello again!

Anon here, who asked for advice how to avoid River Song episodes.

First of all, thank you so much for your extremely detailed reply and all the work you put into it.😘

Wow… these upcoming storylines are wild, and reading about it made me cringe a few times. Also reading the summary of the events makes it look like the show’s focus shifted somewhat (more towards the personal/ romantic life of the Doctor???). But I’m sure that won’t be true for the story when I finally watch it, and it just seems like it now, because I read the summarized version.

I’m not sure if I already asked this in my original message… But, as you mentioned in your reply, season 9 is the last time River Song actually appears in DW, which seems kinda odd, given that they are married and she was foretold to be the most important person to the Doctor. Did they drop the character or the storyline??? Or is it still too early for their main story, and most of their time together is still a part of the future (of future seasons) ? Plus after reading your answer, I was wondering if the Doctor had time to get to know her as a person and fall in love with her at all? Maybe I’m thinking way to logical about a TV series “love story”. It all sounds just somewhat icky. Obsession turning into love etc.😕

(In the end I probably should stop guessing and start watching, with the help of your guide.)

And another question...

As implied, I haven’t started with s5 yet. So I was wondering if it would be advisable to watch the 60th DW anniversary episodes with David and Catherine now, given I just finished the Donna & Tenth Doctor arc? Or would it be too confusing without the s5 -s13 knowledge?

Thanks again for your detailed reply!

hello hello again!

I hope the guide is useful (I can fall into the trap of over-explaining that lead to a confusion for others, but hey, it's not for lack of enthusiasm that's for sure!)

I can tell you that there's a whole bunch of storyline that isn't related to the doctor and romance. there's some neat stuff with the doctor and the master (played by michelle gomez) in s8-s10 and I like about that narrative how much it throws itself into the un-nameability and complexity of their arc, but people can and do read it as romantic, which is totally fine. but point is it's far more open + the master and the doctor obvs have that... history

outside of river song, the arc of s5-7 isn't romance-based either (well, the ponds are romancing each other, but the doctor is kind of weirded out and/or curiously fascinated like a kid looking at bugs by the Rituals of the whole thing)

I think river song's narrative is over on the tv-show, because of how that final story in s9 ties it all together. there's this odd thing about the timeline of river song in her seasons where she talks about her and the doctor as if they're meeting backwards in chronological order (so for example at one point she kisses the doctor who's like "oh ok... first time for everything," and she answer sadly when he can't hear her that there's also a last), but this is definitely not actually the case, meaning theoretically she could come back, but if they nominally want to keep this idea of them meeting backwards, it's finished. it's doctor who though, and some characters come back after over 50 years off the show sometimes, so who can say

(I uh... personally don't think the doctor was ever written properly as falling in love with river song and that it's very creepy in its whole construction and that river song never seems to have agency in her narrative, right up until she gets trapped in the library for apparently all eternity to "save" her, but then m*ffat has had the doctor seemingly "falling" for a woman who's been into him since childhood twice now (girl in the fireplace), not to mention that amy pond -- while he does not reciprocate thank goodness -- also meets the doctor as a kid first and as an adult wants to have sex with them, so... that's just a weird thing m*ffat does a few times)

but you don't really get that narrative with the watchlist I gave you, because river song barely exists outside of narratives that are actually about the doctor (no really, she's almost always doing things because of the doctor, for the doctor, so the doctor will notice her, or talking about the doctor)/in which she's a plot-point, it's one of the reasons I actually quite like her final episode -- the doctor falls into her adventure, rather than her assisting his narrative (and it turns out the doctor knows next to nothing about her life, which is frankly another embarrassing anti-endorsement to this fuckn "romance") and that format... actually works for me, it's frustrating how it gives a tidbit of a story that might have been quite fun -- still not the romance though, go away

as for the last question: I know some people who watched the Specials before watching m*ffat or chibnall eras (I actually watched the Specials before I watched most of thirteen, just because I couldn't wait, but I had spoiled myself for the major stuff of that era beforehand). there is character development and plot and lore that gives the Specials extra Spice for sure -- I think the main thing that is Very Good in terms of going the long way around is that one of the core themes of the Specials, the doctor's sheer exhaustion and loss, is really felt a whole lot more, buuuut tbh, I think there's a lot of fun in having seen the Specials first and then going back and building to it, with the second time around being "ohhh so that's why- yeah, yeah this Creechur needs a holiday or something!!!" sometimes knowing where things end actually adds to the fun, youknow

but hold on, I'll ask from a direct source: @aq2003 you watched the Specials first and then went back to catch up, do you feel solid about that decision-making in hindsight?

(in the end though, seriously, watch the specials if you're impatient -- I don't subscribe to delayed gratification. get gratified in any order you want, that's more my personal speed, it'll be fun either way)

[batter-sempai]

Hey, Papyrus Anon Asks back again (yep, I was the sam person. Glad to see my awkward Vibes still going strong) Want more you say? Hehehe don't mind if I do.

The Charon

Got a bit (ok, a lot) inspired by the pap chat logs (I promise I'm not stalking you, complete coincidence) on ao3. Riverpapyrus in particular caught my eye. You see, I'm rather interested in mythology. The river person, to me, symbolised Charon. (Mysterious person in a boat, helping you cross the Underground? C'mon. A dreamer's gotta dream) A skeleton in a cloak, fulfilling an already Death-associated role? YES. I don't want to spend too long going on about it since it is just my spin off something you already know.

Side note: It'll also make both Sans and Papyrus have a role associated with gold so that's super neat.

Overtale

AU where the humans lost the war. Instead of determination, they find what they need is monster Hope. The only thing that remains after the monster dies. Here, it is not Asriel that Falls (why would he, he has a loving family at home), but a young skeleton called Wingdings (do you see where this is going?). He lives to adulthood, trying every method he can to break the barrier. Until one human, believed to be furious about the fact that a monster will likely be the one to save humanity, sabatages his lastest project to break down at a crucial moment. It dooms them both. Who would have guessed?

Things go on, a few more monsters Fall and proceed to get their dust harvested for the original Break The Barrier extravaganza since Wingding's tragic demise also spelled the end of better freedom plans. Thanks for nothing, Chara. (Hmm whatyasay). Life goes on. A new, less successful scientist is appointed, who dabbled a bit with Hope and necromancy before promptly realising just how bad of an idea that was. Everyone's starting to believe that they'd never be getting out. And then another monster Falls, one with enough Hope to break the barrier. One who looks strangely familiar. Another skeleton, one named Papyrus. 😏

Phew, this ask is getting a bit long and I STILL have more ideas ready to go. Guess I'll just send another ask when you least expect it 🙃

Hello again. :D

Sorry it took me so long to get to your comment. I really hope that you see this and haven’t given up on waiting for me to respond. ;w;

I’m glad you checked out the chatlogs. ^^ It’s very nostalgic to me to be part of those conversations. I agree that the River Person symbolizes Charon, or is sort of a reference to him. We never see who is underneath the cloak, but it would be interesting if they are also a skeleton.

Ooh, that sounds like an interesting AU. :o Humans being trapped instead of monsters but a similar event plays out. And having Papyrus as the playable character, with Gaster in the place of Chara, sounds like a lot of fun.

I hope to see you again, anon. ;w; I really do enjoy the asks you send and I’m so sorry it’s taken me so long to reply to them.

[oxventurequotes]

Hi, me again. I was the one that asked the favourite Oxventure series question. Feel free to just call me J (I may be popping back in and out again to ask questions anonymously (anon because just that extra layer of privacy while still being active, y'know?)).

This time around I just wanted to ask, if you had to pick one adventure from each of the series that you would consider your favourite, what would it be? (Don't have to answer for Deadlands since that ain't complete yet) Because see for me, it'd probably be Plandemonium from D&D (just loved the utter chaos of planning that went on it that episode), YASP for One-Shot Wonder (again, utter chaos), Dead Man's Worth for Deadlands (twists and turns and Andy's smug face) and The Astor Gambit for BitD (1. Johnny is reason enough. 2. The Wonderful Mechanical Man was there).

hi j!!! you have excellent taste in episodes!!! sorry it’s taken me a while to get around to replying to this, i just moved back into my uni flat so life has been busyyyyyy

as per tradition – the short answer will be up here and the wall of text/explaining under the cut 😊 d&d: heist society and a fishmas carol bitd: first flight of the sparrowhawk osw: dread deadlands: dead man's worth part i

heist society was the first ep of oxventure i ever watched (completely by accident lmao, i was so confused) so it holds a lot of nostalgia for me but i also think it’s one of the stronger episodes of early oxventure? i mean it has everything. red room full of blood. sexy minion outfits. I’VE RUN THE LABS. tinnies. what’s chess? fucking effervescent. everyone seems to have settled into roleplaying and d&d and i love a whodunnit mystery and there’s literally never a dull moment in that episode. a fishmas carol is also a close fave – the adventure pit, SHUT YOUR FILTHY MOUTH CORAZON!, cthuludad, alfred strangetide my beloved, egbert seeing the ninja turtle, IRON! but then again its so hard to pick favourites, especially with oxventure because the thing is about oxboxtra and johnny is that it's kinda impossible to put them in a room together and the outcome not be fucking hilarious. dine hard, also brilliant. ship happens. unreal estate. SECT APPEAL! basically every time i think of my fave i remember a different episode and change my mind.

sparrowhawk is my fave blades episode because it brought us The Aeronaughty Boys aka the best named group in oxventure history. but also because i think kasimir and barnaby/mike and johnny bounce off of each other so well? it’s classically opposites attract and so funny to watch hardened criminal kas be Astounded by barnaby’s scheming. and because i love the way johnny has a very proud expression on their face any time they watch luke dm, it’s so sweet. i also love a crimsnight carol because oh my god the capellenaga family and their snakey snakey hair (did we ever find out if lilith’s dad had snake body hair?) but also starting the adventure with the name evan “the geezer” screws was such a fucking power move and set the silly tone of the whole ep perfectly. also baby edvard my beloved. all iterations of edvard my beloved. andy was given so much space in which to play and play in it he did. other faves of mine are the astor gambit, murder at volisport academy (edvard's reaction to lilith's snake hair is so sweet), AND THE LAMPBLACK WEDDING HOW COULD I FORGET!? jane and ellen are such an underrated combo.

as for one shot wonder, admittedly i haven’t watched enough to really pass comment, as mentioned in the previous ask i struggle with new content/formats/guests and i desperately wish i didn’t. my mind just gets very fixed on something it likes The Way It Is and any change to that is immediately so very difficult to settle in to. autism things. but from what i have watched, the dread episode is fan-fucking-tastic. i wish we’d had time to get more into killian’s character because there was some foreshadowing that didn’t have a chance to go anywhere, madison (as all of ellen’s characters are) was immediately so intriguing, i refuse to believe that brad’s name isn’t actually gregg and, once again, when luke westaway gets his sticky gm paws on a game, you know it’s gonna be good.

deadlands is shaping up to be great, i love love LOVE. the accents and the aesthetic and the vibe of the weird west, it’s such a perfect game for andy to dm and as far as the episodes go, dead man’s worth part one is my favourite. the ending oh my GOD the ending. the first real pc death in oxventure! it’s such a tonal shift from what we’ve previously been given where situations have been perilous but never truly deadly. i was sobbing buckets because 1) somehow in less than two episodes johnny had made nate so very endearing and 2) it was such a tonal shift. andy’s shit-eating grin too oh my god. and luke and jane’s faces.

so again, it’s another essay from me going “i love this but i also love this and this and this”, it’s just so hard to choose favourites because, as i said before, i think it’s impossible for an oxventure to not be incredible. the chemistry between everyone just makes everything they touch turn to ttrpg gold. it’s literally the reason that i started this blog? i kept spamming my best friend with “oh my god _ just said-“ and whilst they welcomed/even encouraged that, consistently spamming them with a lot of d&d shit with no context (and then the subsequent context in a five minute voice note) wasn’t very conducive to me keeping my nearest and dearest near and dear and getting all the brainrot out somewhere. hence my personal corner of tumblr dot com. it’s all my favourite moments, every bit that makes me have to pause and take a stim break bc laughter isn’t enough, every silly line or tongue-in-cheek joke that just makes me incredibly happy. they’re all my favourites!

ty for the ask and apologies for the essay/vague ass answer! i love talking abt oxventure and sometimes i feel like if i don’t i may go a little mad :3

[worldofavania]

Avania Mail General Update

Hello everyone! As I mentioned in my Post-Chapter 16 Status Update (which I would highly recommend reading if you haven’t already), I have quite the backlog of Avania Mail questions waiting to be answered... 

Firstly, thank you to everyone for taking an interest in Avania and sending in your questions! It means a lot to me, and making Avania Mail replies is not only a lot of fun, but is often quite helpful in expanding and/or fleshing out the characters and world of Avania.

Unfortunately though, it hasn’t been feasible for me to reply to mail at the same rate at which I receive it (an understatement, I know), and given the recent changes in my life allowing me less free time of any kind, this situation will inevitably persist for the time being...

So, in light of that, I have taken stock of every outstanding question currently residing in the Avania Mail inbox and organized them into a comprehensive list. To try and ensure all submitters get a shot at having at least one of their questions answered in as timely a fashion as possible, I have always tended to skip around to questions from different users (or anons) while still generally working from oldest to newest. I will continue to operate in this way, but I am now consolidating all questions from each non-anon submitter and will simply pick the questions I feel I can answer most readily.

Some questions I have to think about for a while, others I have an answer in mind, but it would require more drawing to do justice, so it gets put off until I’m in a good place to devote time to it (usually between finishing comic pages). Others are simple enough to answer quickly and with minimal new drawing, while hopefully still being entertaining to read! I’ll do my best to try and answer every question eventually, but so far it has been a losing battle... Just don’t give up hope and think that I won’t get to a particular question you have submitted, because I do keep track of all of them, and I’ll do my best to get there eventually!

If you have questions, comments, or feedback, please feel free to leave it here (or send even more Avania Mail). If anyone would like to propose any solutions for expediting replies, or just general proposals, I’m open to suggestions... One idea I am considering trying out is to hold a poll to decide which of several questions gets answered first. Let me know what you think, and in any case, thank you for your interest and your patience! And of course, stay tuned for more Avania Mail!

[parcequecestnotreprojeeeet]

Hi, it’s me, Fanfic Anon #2. Here’s part 2, as promised - his return home. Hope you all enjoy!

He beamed as he saw her waiting just inside the glass doors at the entryway to the palace, bouncing on the balls of her feet, clearly as impatient as he was.

No sooner did he bound up the stairs, two at a time, blowing through the open doors at speed, then he found her throwing herself into his arms, a soft "oof!" pulled from his mouth at the sheer force of her making contact with him, clear she threw all the weight of her lithe body into the act. Suddenly, she pulled her face back from his neck, and eyes full of love and desire meeting his, she leaned up to kiss him.

Slowly at first, their lips brushed each other, just happy to be in contact with each other again, like two magnets constantly seeking, pulled to each other. He moaned softly, forgetting where they were, when he felt her seek to deepen the kiss, her tongue seeking permission to enter his mouth. Happily, he let her in and like a greedy, starving woman she devoured him. He couldn’t be sure how long they stood there in the entryway lost in time and space as they gave themselves wholly to each other, their arms pulling the other ever closer, almost dizzy from lightheadedness and love as they refused to separate for air.

He had missed her, so very much, and clearly she had felt the same way, was as needy and as desperate as he was, after only a few short days apart. He’s started to realize the longer they’ve been together, the harder it is to leave her and the less time he wants to spend away from her now that he has her and knows what life with her at his side means, what it looks like, and how much needs her, wants her, loves her. She’s far more addictive than alcohol, than his (often secretly snuck when his wife wasn’t looking) cigars, and he knows won’t ever get enough to satisfy the craving only she creates.

He jerked away suddenly when he realizes just where all the blood has rushed to from his head, the organ throbbing now that she had brushed her thigh against it teasingly, hyper aware of the fact they were out in the open making out like teenagers in front of countless eyeballs. He’s stunned, actually, they let it get this far (not that they’re embarrassed to be openly affectionate, he’s sure everyone who works here has seen them engage in some form of PDA), but he can’t remember the two of them ever letting it get this far (they’re protective of their intimacy, they have to be given their life in this fishbowl).

She seemed to understand immediately why he pulled back, apologizing quickly her cheeks now reddened with shame rather than the desire that had flushed them only moments earlier, "I’m sorry, I got carried away. I’m just so happy to have you home -"

"Never, ever apologize for this, Brigitte," he interrupted her firmly, pulling one arm from her back to gently cup her cheek, stroking his thumb soothingly as he continued, "never, ever apologize. I refuse to apologize for loving my wife, and I’d like to think she would never apologize for loving me."

"Of course not, but I didn’t have to jump you the second you walked in here, surrounded by staff," she replied quietly, careful not to be overheard.

"You technically haven’t jumped me yet," he smiled back. "So if that’s your plan, which I think is a great plan, by the way, I suggest we relocate." He winked as he quickly bent at the knees to sweep her off her feet and into his arms.

"Put me down!" She laughed lightly tapping his chest in rebuke. "You’re going to throw your back out!"

"You’ll find that I’m just as satisfying with my other body parts, thank you very much," he whispered into her ear with a teasing laugh, before he pulled back and started off towards their flat. "I have grand plans for you, ma dame."

After she had throughly welcomed him home, she whispered wistfully, head pillowed on his chest, "I have missed you so much, mon cœur."

"I missed you too, chérie. More than you know."

"Were you too lonely? Without me?" She asked, and he could hear the trepidation and fear in her voice, could tell she wasn’t sure which was the better answer - for him or for her.

"Not terribly. You know how busy those days are. And whenever I had down time I still could talk to you, just not face-to-face. But I missed you. I missed your eyes, your smile, your hugs, your kisses; I missed sleeping next to you at night and waking up with you in the morning; I missed holding your hand, or sneaking out for walks around the city together; I missed the feeling I only get when you’re around."

"What’s that?" She asked, gentle curiosity in her voice.

"A feeling of peace, contentment. I don’t know how to describe it other than I feel like everything in me is settled, happy, still and for once, my mind goes quiet and I can just be, no matter what else is going on around us, with you I feel like I can breathe."

He felt a single tear hit his chest in response, signifying just how much he managed to move her with that simple statement, before a few moments later, after she had gathered herself she told him, "when I’m around you, it’s just the opposite, because you take my breath away. I feel like anything and everything is possible because I have you with me, by my side, supporting me, loving me. And that no matter what happens, no matter what is happening around us, we’re going to be okay."

"See? Even in this we’re the perfect match. Now sleep, chérie. I know you haven’t slept well the last few nights -"

"How did you know?"

"Because I can’t sleep without you either. Sleep, and I’ll be here when you wake."

Hellooo fanfic Anon #2! ❤️

Oh my dear lord! The sweetness of this! I was just smiling the entire time and had that warm fuzzy feeling in my heart. The actions, the words. All so beautiful, all so perfect!

Thank you so much, fanfic Anon #2! ❤️❤️❤️

[quickspinner]

On Commenting

(Don’t worry I’m not here to berate anyone for failing to comment that is so not what this is about)

We were talking about comments in the disco this morning and then I got in the car and drove around doing my errands so now I have Thoughts and, especially given the fics I plan to rain down on Weddnesday, I am going to inflict them on you. I’m only speaking for me here and no one else. 

And because I’m a Wordy Bitch (tm)  and I haven’t bothered to write an organized point-by-point essay in years and I’m not about to start now, I’m going to put this part up front so you can skip the rest if you don’t vibe with it:

I want you to feel safe to come into my comments however you feel comfortable. Your comment doesn’t have to meet any minimum standard of eloquence or analysis or anything like that. As long as your comment engages with the fic in some way and doesn’t offer nothing but unsolicited criticism, it’s a good comment. That’s it. That’s the standard. And if commenting makes you feel bad, I don’t want you to do it! You have my permission not to comment. Go in peace my friend. Don’t make yourself miserable over something that is supposed to be fun.

I love comments. Love them. I don’t care if you’ve commented before or if you are reading the fic for the 30th time and have already left ten comments--or none! “I’m reading this for the 30th time and I just want to tell you how much I love it even though I’ve never said so before!” 

Me: :D :D :D :D

Not me: omg 30 times and they’re only telling me now? I feel so used.

“Man, this person has commented on a lot of my fic lately.” 

Me: Someone new! Hi new person! I am totally normal and not tempted to reply with to your comments with 50 other fics you should read! I’m so excited to see what you think!

Not me: omg seriously when will this person shut up

“I love this work but I’m afraid my comment won’t be good enough but if I don’t comment I’m killing fandom and the writers will stop and I’m the worst”

Me: OMG, sweetie it’s okay, you do what you can do, it’s not that deep. l will love any comment you make and if all you can stand to do is leave some emojis I will send you some heart emojis right back. I don’t want you to comment if it makes you feel bad, that’s the opposite of what I’m trying to do here!

Not me: You are the worst. You are the reason fandom is dying. I cannot believe people like you would treat me like some tiktok creator throwing things out there for a few paltry likes

Listen. I love comments. Almost all comments. I can’t in truth say all comments because to be honest it does suck a little bit when somebody comes in the comments to complain about the show without actually saying anything about my fic. 

Good: “I love the way you did xyz, I wish the show had done things that way, that would have been so interesting”

Disappointing: “Omg can you believe the writers did that I’m so mad this show sucks and the creators are terrible people and I don’t know how anybody can think otherwise.” Me: “...my fic tho?” 

But like. 99% of comments are great comments. I love it when somebody engages with the story and gives me paragraph by paragraph reactions and tells me what lines they liked most, those are all great. I love it when somebody leaves something that just boils down to “HOLY SHIT THAT WAS AWESOME” whether in text or emoji or keysmash. Comments from friends are amazing. Comments from longtime readers are amazing. Comments from people I’ve never heard of or anons? Amazing. There are a very few people who comment so consistently I actively look for their comments to come in and eagerly await them. Amazing.

But my favorite comments? “My day sucked/I’m goding through a hard time/I’m trying to keep my mind off a difficult thing and reading this made me really happy/gave me a smile when I needed it/is my comfort fic.”

Because those are the ones that made me feel like I did something really important. I impacted someone in a meaningful way. 

Now, I will be honest, I am a super awkward person and I suck at taking compliments, so responding to comments is kind of erratic for me. I try to do it, but sometimes I just have to hide under my blankets and squeal in embarrassment for a while first. 😆 But just because I don’t answer doesn’t mean I don’t see and appreciate. Comments are amazing. 

Okay, now I’m going to get a tiny bit preachy and overly optimistic. Again, I’m just speaking for me and my experiences, but this is the way I tend to look at things.

Here’s the other side of comments though and I mean this kind of as a word of caution for writes and artists as well as a reason why ‘if I don’t comment I’m contributing to the death of fandom’ is semi-bullshit--it is so easy to become jaded over time. First you are excited for every comment, and then you start to convince yourself that certain types of comments “don’t matter.” “Oh, I got ten comments but 5 of them are my discord friends, they’re just commenting because they’re friends.” “Oh, I got comments, but they’re from the same people who always comment. I wish somebody knew would comment. It’s depressing that only the same people are reading my work.” “I got comments but look how many hits/likes/kudos I got and so few of them commented.” 

So. Easy. You guys, it is so easy to convince yourself that what you’re getting isn’t enough. So just, watch yourself and stay grateful. Be vigilant against that kind of complacency. And most importantly, write things you love because you love them. At the same time, sometimes you have to be realistic about the size of the potential audience for any given fic. Write it, but remember that not everybody loves what you love, and if you choose to write something that’s a little weird or has a lot of OCs or diverges strongly from accepted canon/fanon, that you’re going to have to find your people, find your audience, before you start seeing those comments come in. 

It’s complicated, I get that. We all do want the comments and the validation. We ARE less motivated when no one seems to engage with our work. But I also think that the way to combat that is to a) stay grateful b) build community with other authors/artists/creators who will still be there commenting and cheering us on when the general public seems to have sunk into indifference. Nobody gets it like fellow creatives. Be the change you want to see in the world, and all that. If you feel like commenting is down, it’s probably down for other people too, so maybe go leave a positive comment for someone else.