#anyway that’s not even everything but if i listed everything we’d be here all day so

[2-dsimp]

Hi, can I please see Harumu zoning in one Quio's darling. I can imagine Harumu meets her when Quio takes her to one of the many events he's invited too

The problem with that would be Harumu has his own manager darling to zone in on. But I will say that Harumu and Quio are actually good friends.

Harumu acknowledges those with beauty in general. Said beauties are obviously not comparable to him but he’s ever so benevolent. Sometimes if someone caught his eye and he notices something wrong he’d offer some word of advice to up their game.

But moving onwards on one particular day the shapeshifter was simply getting prepped to go on stage. As he’d be acting as the Mc alongside Quio, the famous A-list actor who his family sponsored.

To advertise the newest launch of their beauty supply stores across the globe. Harumu knew of him and was content to be working with a fellow mutual with looks that also drive people crazy. Yet when he dropped by the wardrobe dressing rooms. He was appalled to see Quio’s wardrobe malfunction due to an incompetent mistake on the staffs part.

“How dreadful! Quio, dear what have they done to your face?! Those colors don’t compliment your skin at all! You there, hand me those brushes, and get out! I’ll do everything my damned self!”

“Damn, that’s a sound way of crowd control. Say, have you ever thought about being a professional beautician? You know if I could hire you as such I would. But I know my schedule would be even more of a clusterfuck than it already is, if I did that haha!”

“Hah! Well it’s me afterall you should expect that, but do you really think I’d tire out my precious cuticles for anything under a million? Most people can’t even come near my standards, much less be able to afford me by the hour. I’ll have you know that you’re one of the only exceptions I’ll make, my dear friend.”

“Ah I know that all too well I’ll consider myself a lucky son of a gun to be under the care of the greatest beauty influencer known to…Well everyone. Which reminds me I gotta put in my bulk order for your beauty products.”

“Just give it here. I’ll pick out the ones you’ll be needing the most of, I’m almost done styling your hair anyways. A few touch ups and we’ll make everyone worship the ground we walk on as per usual. Just make sure your body guard… Nokka was it? Is on standby, with your fans reputation we’d need him.”

[lifewithdavefarts]

DaveFarts - Episode 30 “Gross The Line” [Episode List] After Dave rips a couple of his well-known huge farts on his face, Tim finds the guts to ask his gassy bro something...

POV: Tim

Gross The Line

This Friday night we had no plans (once you’re past 30, this is usually considered a win).

Both me and Dave, after a tough week of work, decided to stay at home and apparently our buds had the same idea as no one wanted to do anything. To be completely honest, Dave did have something resembling a plan for tonight: Dana, his girlfriend, was coming here for the weekend, nothing new by a long shot, but Dave still wanted to give our small house what passes for a “cleaning session”.

To be fair, both me and Dave know how to manage this sort of stuff, with Dave actually being much more organised than he seems. 

Each day of this past week, we decided to do our chores after we were done working.

Speaking of which, since I worked from home, I was simply wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants, while my roommate sported his usual dark brown hoodie and a pair of dark blue, almost grey, loose sagging jeans.

After doing the living room, the kitchen and the bathroom (on different days, nonetheless), we’re now cleaning his bedroom: we made the (king-sized) bed, sorted Dave’s wardrobe a bit, all that kind of stuff we had to do regardless of our guests anyway (and Dana was very chill anyway). 

We kind of lost rack of time, but given we started right after we finished working, it was around 6:30 PM, late-ish afternoon basically.

“We still got plenty of time.” I remarked, while folding a t-shirt.

“Yep.” Dave replied. “We could make a mess and still have time to clean up, if you know what I mean.” he winked at me, glancing at his king-sized bed.

“Well, you are pretty fast.” I made fun of him.

His response was a pair of socks harmlessly hitting my face.

“I see you’re done with those.” I sarcastically said as I picked them up.

“Yeah, the wardrobe’s pretty much done, thanks.” he said, as I handed the last t-shirt to him.

Honestly, we did a pretty good job. This wasn’t the first time we did this kind of stuff at all, but I was impressed by how fast we got things done this time.

“Let’s make this last.” I stated, admiring how clean the room was.

Dave stood next to me, arms crossed. “Yep. It smells good, even!”

“Yes it doe- I can’t believe I fell for it.”

My friend just casually ripped a monstrously loud 3 second fart, the sound easily silencing my voice. He winked at me again, with a smug smile, knowing very well that, well, I appreciated.

“Please don’t ruin everything we’ve done.” I jokingly begged him.

“Hey!” he stated, faking an assertive tone. “My bedroom, my rules.”

A moment of silence, then I heard him sniffing the air around him.

“But yeah…” he admitted, trying not to laugh. “That was terrible.”

The stench reached both of our nostrils and, believe it or not, it was bad. Yes, I have a fart kink, but some things can be too much to handle even for me, and to be honest I’m here more for the amazing loud sounds.

Dave opened the window just a bit so the bedroom won’t stink like rotten meat when Dana steps in later.

“Unless your ass has more things to say, that should be enough.” I said, looking at him and the window.

My bro shook his head in response and laughed a bit.

“Dude if you want to hear more farts you can just ask for it ya know.” He casually said as if it was the most normal thing in the world. “You know I don’t care.” he then added, as he walked past me to check his phone on the bed, again so casually it almost confused me. Was he being sarcastic or not?

A moment of silence, as I needed a moment to understand what he meant.

Again, I do have a fart kink but… I wasn’t asking for anything. Hell, even though it’s been more than a year since he found out and accepted me, I never ever even had the guts to properly ask him for, well, a “fart session”, because at this point that’s what often happens between us. We’d go days or even weeks without face-farting (even though I’d hear him farting A LOT, either to tease me or just randomly like bros do), then Dave would just straight-up “bully” me by being the most amazing and open-minded straight gassy bro in the world. 

A blessing and a curse at the same time.

“I wasn’t asking for anything.” I stated.

Dave snorted and smiled, eyes glued on the phone. “Yeah… sure.”

I admit I felt a bit… am I in the position to say ‘offended’? 

I… I don’t want him to think that he’s my bro because of, well, this kinky stuff. 

I stepped closer to him. “Again: I wasn’t asking.”

“Dude.” he looked up to me. “It’s fine. We’re good.” he laughed.

A few moments of silence, interrupted by my friend’s tapping on his phone. I didn’t like this atmosphere. Was I being an asshole? Dave was just being… so casually open-minded about my gross kink and that’s how I thank him? By thinking ill of him?

He doesn’t care… and yet some times I almost wish that he’d did.

Maybe I just like drama?

I decided to break the tension (which wasn’t even there, but anxiety took me over quickly).

“Well… what if I was asking… not that I was…” I tried to say.

Dave’s only response was just turning to me again, listening with a bored, yet amused-ish look on his face.

“I’d never ask you.” I finally said, after stuttering a bit more.

My friend shook his head again, amused by my response.

“Okay… thanks for sharing. Very interesting.” he said, sarcastically.

I took a deep breath. “I’d never ask because...”

Dave narrowed his eyes and interrupted me with the muffled sound of another loud fart, another quick thunder, lasting “only” 5 seconds. Despite having his denim, sagging ass glued to the bed, the roar could still be heard clearly. At least the stench was trapped there… for the most part.

“Good one.” I tried to joke. Then went back to being a stuttering idiot. “I’d never ask because…”

My friend interrupted me again, this time by standing up and stepping towards me, looking annoyed but still weirdly amused.

“Yes yes because you don’t want me to think that we’re bros only because you’re a kinky bastard and I just happen to be the fart king, right? Is this what you’re trying to say? Is that correct?”

I just remained silent and took a deep breath… inhaling some of the stench that used to be trapped under Dave’s ass.

“Bro I told you a million times that I don’t care.” he laughed. “I do appreciate that you don’t ask.” he admitted “But… that won’t stop me from destroying your face.” 

That… that didn’t go into the direction I thought it would.

“Sorry.” I simply said.

Dave just laughed at how… needlessly stupid I was being.

“Alright. Looks like we’re gonna make a mess after all.” 

He stared at me with a smirk. He then quickly grabbed my arms and tripped me over so I could fell on his bed.

“Bro, it’s fine, sorry I sai-“ I tried to say, actually trying not to laugh.

“Hey, my bedroom, my rules.” he remarked, stepping on the bed, easily towering over me.

He took a few steps and after I ended up with my head between his feet, he made sure to align his sagging ass with my face, so he could squat down and just use my nose as a pillow to rest his ass on.

The denim was rough and beautiful to look at, the seams and textures of his jeans tickling my face. I took a deep whiff and I could smell the stench of his previous farts. Since he was sagging, my nose also brushed against his red sweaty underwear, the only thing between my nose and his powerful anus.

After a few seconds of silence, he stopped moving and ripped a huge blast, up close and personal, down my throat. Damn, today his ass likes being louder than usual, with the blast almost making me go deaf. It was probably as loud as the previous ones, but since I was with my nose planted into the source of that fart this time, it felt way louder. 

It certainly was longer though, this one lasting about 9 seconds before stopping.

He didn’t move for a few seconds, the only reason being to give me time to, well, properly enjoy the stench, which again I did, but the sounds of Dave’s farts was the main event for me every time he blasted me. I’ll never get used to it, to all of this, to his blasts, to him being so casual and open-minded about my kink.

After a few seconds, he leaned back and spread his legs a bit, still having his ass planted on my face. He did that so he could stare down at me, at the victim of his flatulence, at what remained of my sweaty face.

He was laughing, still sporting that evil smirk.

“I knew you weren’t asking by the way.” he said, and the bastard winked at me one more time.

Before I could say something in return, most likely an insult, my head shook as he ripped yet another blast. He closed his eyes as he kept pushing, as he let his ass roar all over my face; and the fact that I could see him do that, that I could stare right into his eyes as he farted, all while my nostrils were burning, further hardened by boner. 

He sighed in relief and looked down to me one more ime after the 7 seconds blast ended. He then leaned back a bit more, now fully lying on his bed, legs up, with my face still in front of his sagging denim. 

Oddly enough, we remained like that for a couple of dozens of seconds, until my straight bro talked to me. I couldn’t see his face this time: I was too startled to talk, to process how how that was, and my eyes were glued on that smelly “wall” of sagging jeans in front of me, a “wall” that hid my friend’s face from my point of view.

“You alive, bro?” he jokingly asked.

“Sadly, yes.” my deadpan answer.

Dave laughed at my response.

“No worries, I’m brewing a big one that’s gonna kill ya for good.” 

The friendliest, yet hottest threat I ever received.

“Ready?” he then asked.

How did such a simple word become so hot to me is a mystery; but being something that Dave would often say before unleashing some of the loudest, most powerful farts I ever heard certainly didn’t help.

In hindsight, that’s not a mystery at all…

Either way, my answer to his question was another question, and I mustered all the courage I had to actually speak.

“Dave… can I ask you something?” Though it was my boner doing the talk now I’m afraid.

“Sure.” he quickly responded, surprisingly enough.

A few moments of silence, my heart racing fast. I took deep breaths, accidentally inhaling more of the polluted air around me. I was nervous, I was sweating.

“Well, if you have nothing to say, I’m just gonna let my ass speak then.” another hot threat from my bro.

“Okay wait.” I finally said. 

I still couldn’t see my friend’s face as I was resting my head in front of his ass, which covered most most of my view.

“For your next… fart…” I managed to say.

“Yes…?” he said, in a very amusing formal tone of voice.

 “Can you…” I took a deep breath. “Can you, like…”

Dave laughed at me stuttering like an idiot, but I kept going.

“Can you hold my head into your ass?”

First response: silence.

Moments of silence, moments that to me lasted hours.

I did it, I crossed the line. 

I fucked up.

I betrayed my straight bro’s trust by going too far.

He’s Dave, a straight, open-minded friend that accepted my kink and yet I couldn’t help but let my thirst take the wheel, ruining everything.

It doesn’t help that he did hold my head still into his ass as he face-farted me other times in the past, but downright asking him to do it… I’m already regretting it.

That’s too gross.

Then, I felt it.

I just felt it.

I felt his left hand grabbing my head; he raised his left leg and leaned a bit, so he could properly fulfil my request. With a firm grasp, he planted my defenceless, sweaty face straight up into his sagging, smelly denim ass, holding me still, making sure I couldn’t move.

“Wow. You are a kinky bastard after all.” He said. “Just like I’m the fart king” he snickered.

I tried to speak, but talking while your moth is constantly “kissing” your gassy friend’s ass is a bit difficult, yet Dave kind of understood what I was trying to say. He knows me, after all.

“Bro…” He pushed my head even more, my nose almost going through the red fabric of his underwear and right between his asscheeks. “The only thing you should be afraid of is getting exactly what you wish for.”

Another one of those hot threats. Is he doing that on purpose? 

A moment of silence followed… the silence before the storm.

“Ready?”

That was a rhetorical question.

The earthquake that struck my face was as loud as it was powerful. My friend’s ass roared straight into my nostrils and mouth, with Dave making sure my face was glued to his powerful anus, right where it belonged (not that I wanted to move anyway).

The deep, chainsaw-like noise shook the the whole bedroom, and for a moment I thought of the stench that basically ruined all of our hard work of cleaning things up, but my bro cared even less than me about that, as his ass kept screaming at my face, my nose gently brushing between his denim and his underwear. 

My nostrils were burning, my eyes got wet.

On paper, this was nothing new for me: Dave farts in my face very often, even holding my head still like he’s doing now. However… the fact that he did it because I found the guts to ask for it made pre-cum erupt from the tip of my cock (I guess I’m the fast one then) which at this point I assume my bro knows about.

Even though I had my entire face glued to his denim ass, I still managed to get a good look of it and as my face kept getting blasted, I once again realized how lucky I was to have a friend like him. 

Dave had it all: he’s smart, he’s tall, good-looking, funny and, as he put it a few moments ago, he casually happens to be the fart king, and the fact that I have the… I’d say the privilege to get constantly face-farted by him, to admire his ass this up close and personal, was more than I could’ve ever hoped for.

That good-looking guy you saw across the street? Well, he’s actually my bro… and he’s farting in my face.

12 seconds and the fart finally started to lose some of its power. He could rip longer farts than this, natural and/or on command (this time it was all natural, like 99% of the times), which was already impressively long, but given the context this was probably the hottest one he ever ripped all over my face.

After he was done, he simply let me go, or rather, let my head fall as I was completely stunned by what just hit me. I admired that sagging denim ass in front of me a bit more, still engulfed by an invisible cloud of gas.

“Anything else you wanna ask?” he joked, teasing me on purpose.

“Maybe I’ll just ask you to stop.” I played along, though I was being serious.

“Good choice” Dave said, a quick, loud 2-seconds fart following his response.

I managed to stand up, fighting the urge to plant my face into his ass again to properly enjoy that last rip. 

I was feeling all dizzy for all the gas and, well, the massive boner I had.

Dave remained on the bed, sitting, as if nothing gross and kinky happened, reaching for his phone again to check some messages.

The bedroom, no gentle way to put this, smelt like ass because of my friend’s massive farts.

“Welp, much like you, Dana’s coming.” Dave casually commented, eyes on his phone.

“You do realize that this room smells like ass, right?” I told him, ignoring the insult.

“Hey. Not my fault. You asked for it, not me.” he said, with a smirk.

Once again, he proved to me that he just doesn’t care. 

I’m gross and disgusting and while my bro is very aware of the kink… the idea of torturing me is just weirdly amusing to him.

I don’t know why, but that’s how it works.

His bedroom, his rules after all.

The End

[cimerran-714]

Well, as many people love to claim that Ron's not at fault for abandoning the Trio in Deathly Hallows (some Ron stans instead prefer to shift the blame to Harry instead by reading things out of context), I thought I'd analyze the entire scene here.

So, to start with, I really like Ron. But I do not think that you have to excuse everything a character does in order to like him. Now, Ron fans would probably just claim that I am lying about liking Ron, but I don't care about that.

Let's get started, shall we?

“So, would he have hidden the sword well away from Hogsmeade then? What d’you reckon, Ron? Ron?” Harry looked around. For one bewildered moment he thought that Ron had left the tent, then realized that Ron was lying in the shadow of a lower bunk, looking stony. “Oh, remembered me, have you?” he said.

Okay, so it begins with Harry looking for Ron, and he notices him lying next to a bunk "looking stony". He makes a comment asking whether Harry's remembered him.

Now, how does Harry respond to that?

"What?” Ron snorted as he started up at the underside of the upper bunk. “You two carry on. Don’t let me spoil your fun.” Perplexed, Harry looked to Hermione for help, but she shook her head, apparently as nonplussed as he was. “What’s the problem?” asked Harry.

Harry's understandably confused. He says "What?" and then exchanges a look with Hermione, who's similarly perplexed. And then, Harry asks him again what the problem was. He just says "What's the problem?" and nothing else.

“Problem? There’s no problem,” said Ron, still refusing to look at Harry. “Not according to you, anyway.” There were several plunks on the canvas over their heads. It had started to rain. “Well, you’ve obviously got a problem,” said Harry. “Spit it out, will you?

Ron refuses to elaborate & just says that according to Harry, there's no problem. Harry replies by asking him to "spit out". Well, that maybe he considered rude, but how would you even respond to it? They were discussing Horcruxes & Ron's talking about how the others "remembered" him now, that Harry shouldn't let him "spoil their fun", and that Harry doesn't think there's a problem.

Considering the context, it's a valid thing to say.

Ron swung his long legs off the bed and sat up. He looked mean, unlike himself. “All right, I’ll spit it out. Don’t expect me to skip up and down the tent because there’s some other damn thing we’ve got to find. Just add it to the list of stuff you don’t know.” “I don’t know?” repeated Harry. “I don’t know?”

Ron looks unlike his usual self as he then implies that he doesn't care about what they had found out, and that it's Harry's fault. That's why Harry repeated the same thing. He was just surprised and shocked.

Plunk, plunk, plunk. The rain was falling harder and heavier; it pattered on the leaf-strewn bank all around them and into the river chattering through the dark. Dread doused Harry’s jubilation. Ron was saying exactly what he had suspected and feared him to be thinking. “It’s not like I’m not having the time of my life here,” said Ron, “you know, with my arm mangled and nothing to eat and freezing my backside off every night. I just hoped, you know, after we’d been running round a few weeks, we’d have achieved something.

Ron talks about how the Horcrux hunting wasn't similar to his expectations.

Again, Harry responded calmly:

"I thought you knew what you’d signed up for,” said Harry. “Yeah, I thought I did too.” “So what part of it isn’t living up to expectations?” asked Harry. Anger was coming to his defense now. “Did you think we’d be staying in five-star hotels? Finding a Horcrux every other day? Did you think you’d be back to Mummy by Christmas?"

For Harry using the phrase "back to Mummy", remember that Ron agreed to come to help even though Harry said that they shouldn't, and now he's upset that it's not working out & is sulking. Anyone would have gotten angry. Seriously, Ron just makes it sound as if Harry forced him to come along.

"We thought you knew what you were doing!” shouted Ron, standing up, and his words pierced Harry like scalding knives. “We thought Dumbledore had told you what to do, we thought you had a real plan!” “Ron!” said Hermione, this time clearly audible over the rain thundering on the tent roof, but again, he ignored her. “Well, sorry to let you down,” said Harry, his voice quite calm even though he felt hollow, inadequate. “I’ve been straight with you from the start, I told you everything Dumbledore told me. And in case you haven’t noticed, we’ve found on Horcrux—”

Ron's words are scathing, but remarkably, Harry is STILL calm in his response. He's composing himself as he explains to Ron that he did tell them everything that he knew.

"Yeah, and we’re about as near getting rid of it as we are to finding the rest of them—nowhere effing near in other words.” “Take off the locket, Ron,” Hermione said, her voice unusually high. “Please take it off. You wouldn’t be talking like this if you hadn’t been wearing it all day.” “Yeah, he would,” said Harry, who did not want excuses made for Ron. “D’you think I haven’t noticed the two of you whispering behind my back? D’you think I didn’t guess you were thinking this stuff?"

Well, Hermione IS being unfair by blaming it on the locket. We do know that Ron left even after he removed the locket, and like Harry said, they were whispering behind his back.

Further on:

"Harry we weren’t—” “Don’t lie!” Ron hurled at her. “You said it too, you said you were disappointed, you said you’d thought he had a bit more to go on than—” “I didn’t say it like that—Harry, I didn’t!” she cried. The rain was pounding the tent, tears were pouring down Her- mione’s face, and the excitement of a few minutes before had van- ished as if it had never been, a short-lived firework that had flared and died, leaving everything dark, wet, and cold. The sword of Gryffindor was hidden they knew not where, and they were three teenagers in a tent whose only achievement was not, yet, to be dead. “So why are you still here?” Harry asked Ron. “Search me,” said Ron.

Read the last part. Harry asks him why he's still there and Ron replies by saying that he doesn't know. THAT is when Harry asks him to leave; Ron made it clear that he does not even want to remain there any more.

Remarkably, Harry is STILL replying calmly when he asks him to go home.

"Go home then,” said Harry. “Yeah, maybe I will!” shouted Ron, and he took several steps toward Harry, who did not back away. “Didn’t you hear what they said about my sister? But you don’t give a rat’s fart, do you, it’s only the Forbidden Forest, Harry I’ve-Faced-Worse Potter doesn’t care what happens to her in there—well, I do, all right, giant spider and mental stuff—”

Ron talks about how Harry doesn't care about what happens to Ginny.

And incredibly, Harry is STILL calm.

“I was only saying—she was with the others, they were with Hagrid—” “Yeah, I get it, you don’t care! And what about the rest of my family, the Weasleys don’t need another kid injured, did you hear that?” “Yeah, I—” “Not bothered what it meant, though?”

“Not bothered what it meant, though?” “Ron!” said Hermione, forcing her way between them. “I don’t think it means anything new has happened, anything we don’t know about: think, Ron, Bill’s already scarred; plenty of people must have seen that George has lost an ear by now, and you’re supposed to be on your deathbed with spattergroit, I’m sure that’s all he meant—” “Oh, you’re sure, are you? Right then, well, I won’t bother myself about them. It’s all right for you two, isn’t it, with your parents safely out of the way—” “My parents are dead !” Harry bellowed

There you go. Ron insults Harry's parents greatly by talking about how his parents are "safely out of the way". At this point, Harry, who has been remarkably calm overall, loses his temper.

Honestly, you know what happens after that. Harry responds to him by asking him to essentially fuck off, and Ron begins to escalate it physically and attack Harry (a fight was averted by Hermione's shield charm).

And then Ron left even AFTER having removed the locket. Don't blame it on the locket, it's a weak excuse.

So, to summarize:

Ron started the argument.

Harry replies in a mostly calm manner.

Ron insults Harry's dead parents upon which the latter finally loses his temper.

Ron leaves after removing the locket.

Yeah, sorry, I am still 100% going to blame Ron here.

[feralbutfluffy]

Interstitial: The Library of Alexandria

Instead of a chapter, today there's a one-shot inspired by chapter 59.

********************

Crowley watched Aziraphale as he ran his finger lightly over the scrolls, looking for something in particular. He didn’t ask what it was he was searching for. 

He didn’t really care. 

He sat on the floor, ignoring whatever was digging into his shoulder. Something old and terrifyingly valuable, no doubt. 

He sighed and took a swig from the jar of wine in his hand. “You going to be much longer?”

Aziraphale frowned at him. “You don’t have to be here, you know.”

Crowley grumbled something indecipherable and took another swig.

“It wouldn’t kill you to help, you know,” Aziraphale said, irritation clipping his words. “We’d be finished quicker if you would just-”

“You’d be finished quicker,” said Crowley.

Aziraphale glared at him from underneath his eyelashes. “Well, yes, but it hardly signifies. It comes down to the same thing, surely? The sooner I find the scroll the sooner we can break for lunch.”

“I fail to see the incentive. I’ll remind you that you’re the one who’s been banging on about that fish thing since we ran into each other this morning.”

“Be that as it may-”

“Anyway, helping you would be against my job description, wouldn’t you say?” Crowley crinkled his nose. “Bit unprincipled from a demonic perspective, to be helping your lot with… whatever it is you’re doing.”

“I assure you this is entirely personal,” sniffed Aziraphale.

“Be that as it may…” imitated Crowley, his tone entirely mocking.

Aziraphale shot him an annoyed look and crouched to examine the shelves at Crowley’s feet. 

Crowley took another swig and let out a deeply contented sigh. There was nothing like needling the angel to brighten his day. He let his shoulders fall back against the scrolls, enjoying the satisfyingly soft crunch of crumpling papyrus and the equally satisfying look of horror on the angel’s face at the sound.

“Crawley!” He hissed, sounding appalled. If they hadn’t been in a library Crowley imagined it would probably have been an indignant shout.

“It’s Crowley now,” he reminded him blandly.

Aziraphale hurried to his side, placing a hand against the dip at the base of his spine and sliding it up to his shoulders, neatly pulling him forward and away from the damaged scrolls behind him.

“You can’t do that! These scrolls are invaluable!”

Crowley ignored the strange prickling heat he felt at the angel’s touch.

“How do you know? You haven’t even looked at them yet, they could be…” he scrambled, “... a painstaking account of someone’s dreams! Or the ramblings of a madman! Honestly, look at this place, it’s packed to the gills with scrolls. They can’t all be important.”

“This is the finest collection of written material in the world, Craw- Crowley. Of course they’re all important!” Aziraphale was still supporting Crowley’s back with one arm as the fingers of the other smoothed out the creases in the scrolls behind him. 

Crowley gave no sign of intending to support his own body weight.

“Move,” Aziraphale said commandingly, shoving him upright. Crowley bounced forward, head falling against his chest, looking like a puppet with cut strings. He sat like that for a moment, listing forward, as he listened to the soothing sound of the angel putting everything to right. He wondered if Aziraphale might touch him again if he lay back and crumpled more scrolls.

He might.

Or he might discorporate him for crimes against papyrus.

He put the jar to his lips and drank deeply. Wine. What a marvellous discovery. It was the only good thing to come out of that whole mess with Noah. The rainbow- 

Well, the rainbow was fine, he supposed. But the wine …!

Truthfully, he’d needed it to get over that atrocity. He couldn’t understand how Aziraphale had managed to take it so in stride. The cries, the bloated bodies, the smell… He shuddered and swallowed down a large gulp of wine.

“I know I’ve already told you-” started Aziraphale at the sound of the wine sloshing against the side of the jar. 

“Yes, yes, shouldn’t drink in the library-” mumbled Crowley, waving the jug in front of him at the same time as Aziraphale continued, “You really shouldn’t drink in the library. What if you spill it?”

Crowley tried to look offended. “As if I would! Nectar of the Gods, lest you forget,” he said pointing at the jar.

“There is only one God as you very well know,” said Aziraphale primly, kneeling to face Crowley. “I’d thank you to refrain from such blasphemy when you find yourself in my company.” He looked extremely disapproving, hands folded in his lap, a frown etched on his face as he eyed the jar in Crowley’s hand.

He could be so sanctimonious sometimes. It really was unbearable.

Continue reading....

[vintageshanny]

How Would It Feel?

This poem is very smutty and very loving. Me in a nutshell I suppose. It feels very vulnerable to post it, but here I go anyway. 18+

There are so many fantasies I have in my heart of all the ways I could make you feel pleasure

I know this confession might make you blush a bit, but my love and desire for you are too deep to measure

I long to undress you, memorize every inch of your body, tell you how perfect you are in my eyes

Kiss you quite literally from head to toe then back up to the treasure between your thighs

I’d give him all the attention he needs until he’s ready for what’s to come

That moment we’d both be anticipating when we could join our bodies as one

I’d lay back on the bed and pull you in for a kiss while I spread my legs open wide

I think our hearts would be pounding together while you reach down and start to guide yourself inside

As I open myself to you and you inch your way in, I know I’d feel so vulnerable and nervous

When you fill me completely with your beautiful manhood, I’d see in your eyes that tender reassurance

The sounds of our moans would fill the air, your sweet breath mixing with mine

To stare into your eyes while you experience such pleasure would be like seeing the stars align

Everything in its perfect place, you inside my body as you’re inside my heart

The pleasure would consume us both, pushing us toward that explosive part

The part where your warmth comes spilling out inside me while we moan each other’s names

How would it feel to know this passion with you, to know I’d never be the same?

To stare into your eyes, wiping the sweat from your brow, as we come down from that high and I feel your trembling body relax onto mine

“I love you” we’d both whisper in unison, reading each other’s minds

While I can’t have you right now in that physical sense

My love and longing for you is no less intense

I dream of one day giving you that passion, that physical pleasure

But even now, we know in our hearts that you’ve changed me forever.

Poetry tag list: @lookingforrainbows @thatbanditqueen @whositmcwhatsit @ellie-24 @be-my-ally @arrolyn1114 @elvisalltheway101 @xanatenshi @jhoneybees @atleastpleasetelephone

[thetarttfuldickhead]

Like Phil, I’d like to think that Jamie and Keeley still go to Brazil, in spite of the boys’ recent fuck-up, but I’d also like to think that Roy comes with them. Not because Jamie and Keeley can’t be friend on their own or wouldn’t have the best time doing Brazil together – they would! – but because I think Jamie might be conscious, given everything that’s gone down recently, of potentially upsetting what he currently perceives as a rather delicate balance.   

Maybe he brings it up a few days later before they head over to Keeley’s for a joint apology, or maybe it happens already at the holy kebab place, once they’ve had a few bites and a chance to settle back into their normal; a little worse for wear, but with no lasting harm done.

And Jamie fiddles with his sleeves and makes little faces as he tries to decide what to say (and Roy notices and waits with some trepidation) and in the end he just comes right out and says it, because that’s what Jamie does, isn’t it?

“I asked Keeley to go to Brazil with me, for that Nike thing I’m doing.”

Roy blinks. He hadn’t known Jamie was doing a Nike thing. Jamie might have told him, but Roy usually stops listening whenever he starts blathering on about brands and clothes and shit, so yeah, if told he hadn’t heard.

“What did she say?” he asks after a slightly too long and awkward moment of Jamie looking up at him, almost through his fucking eyelashes, trying to gauge his reaction.

“She said yes.” And hastily, as if worried what Roy might say or do if given a moment to, he adds: “I didn’t do it to try to get back together or anything. I mean, I do wanna get back together and she’s my friend and I love her and I thought we’d have a great time, yeah, but also, she’s great at PR and all that stuff, so. Yeah. That’s why I asked her to come. Make sure I don’t fuck it up.”

And because you want her to be your girlfriend. Roy doesn’t say it, though. Neither of them want a repeat of what went down at the bar. This isn’t Jamie trying to goad him or hurt him, he’s pretty fucking sure of that, so he’ll listen carefully to everything Jamie has to say, and then he’ll react like a fucking grown-up.

Probably. Possibly.

“Anyway, I think you should, like, come with us.”

Fucking what now? “What?”

“You should come with me and Keeley to Brazil.” Jamie is nodding his head decisively, as if repeating the statement has fully convinced him of its veracity.

“You want me to come with you and Keeley to fucking Brazil?” Roy is aware of sounding like a demented parrot, but he doesn’t give a fuck, does he, because he doesn’t want there to be any fucking room for misinterpretation here.

Jamie doesn’t seem particularly concerned about Roy’s tone. Too used to it, probably. “Um, yeah. Yeah. I mean, probably can’t get Nike to pay for it, right, but you’re rich, so you can just get your own ticket and you can stay with me and Keeley in this villa they’ll set us up in. Can’t mind that.”

Which all sounds very reasonable, of course, but still doesn’t answer the most pressing question:  “Why?”

Jamie makes a face. “What do you mean, why? Because I don’t want shit to be weird between us, mate. And I think it’d be weird if Keeley and I went away and you stayed here after what happened, you know. Besides,” he adds, and suddenly he looks slightly shy; younger than he actually is, and vulnerable, “It’d probably be fun, yeah? All three of us going, together. Because we’re friends and all.”

And there’s something sharp and jagged turning in Roy’s gut at that, because underneath Jamie’s claim there’s a note of uncertainty that Roy had no trouble whatsoever guessing the origin of, and he adds it to the long list of things he hates himself for.

He doesn’t know how to express any of that, so what he says is, “Yeah. I guess. I’ll think about it.”

Jamie’s grin is immediate and wide; relieved and triumphant in equal measure, like he’s already won – like he already knows for a fact that Roy’s going to say yes.

Roy can’t even find it in him to mind that the little prick is right.

And then they all go to Brazil and I’m currently thinking that nothing further really happened between them there, because apparently they all need to do a little more thinking and feeling and figuring themselves out, but I’m sure they still had a grand, grand time of it.

[hispanthicc]

I'm glad to hear you're feeling better now after your break up. I love guys like you whose weight gain has a direct landing in their bellies. Everything else on them is normal size, back, face, legs, feet, arms, hands. But when they turn around, there's this great big belly. Your watermelon belly looks astounding!

Well, I wouldn’t say that I feel better even though it was a few years ago. it was a 5 yr relationship and I was 100% planning to be with him for the rest of my life. Then he just threw me away lol. I’ll never get that time back and I still struggle with a lot of the harsh things he’s said to me and also a lot of his actions afterwards. In fact I got triggered a few days ago cuz I was going through my blocked list on a certain site and I saw him. His pfp pic was changed to a pic that showed his face. 1. I always had to beg him to send me a selfie. 2. He’s always been kinda ashamed of what he’s into and definitely was embarrassed to be seen with me or take pictures with me, especially in the end. So it kinda hurt my feelings I guess, but I’m just sensitive. I also feel terrible for even having any feelings about him at all but it takes a while to fully get over things. But he’s blocked on everything and I wish him the best. Every once in a while the photo cloud will show me a pic of him and I get triggered all over again. But at this point I’ve deleted everything.

I’ve mostly moved on and even my mom said that the best way to get over it and forget is to find someone else and that definitely was good advice. Unfortunately, though that hasn’t completely worked the way I would’ve liked and the past week has been a lot emotionally. I’ve been feeling lonely and horny, I’ve also just felt very left out. Some of it’s my fault cuz anxiety and sometimes just funds lol. I also suck at getting close to people. Abandonment issues or whatever. I also don’t just dive into anything it takes me a long time to just be like I’m okay and ready but I can’t and don’t expect anyone to wait for me to be ready and of course the consequence of that is they move on lol. Which is fine and dandy or whatever but I’m just experiencing a lot of emotions lately that I’ve never felt before and I don’t know how to handle any of it.

Anyways gaining and focusing on my body has definitely helped a little cuz I do feel a little more confident sometimes. I lost a lot after the break up and that definitely made me hate myself but I also thought maybe he’d come back if I did but he said I didn’t match his aesthetic (LOL) but he didn’t come back in fact after he dumped me he went to London lol. Literally within weeks. Didn’t even tell me which I guess he didn’t have to in retrospect but he kinda led me on for months making me think we’d get back together. Idk I was ignoring a lot because I wanted to be with him so bad.

Anyways fast forward I went to a film festival in Canada which got me inspired by life again. Enrolled in grad school the following year. Finished the first year and here we are.

I think I noticed I started to gain again during my first semester back in school. Like one day I just woke up and I was bigger. I noticed it in my face write away. It’s kinda hard gaining on a student budget lol but I did the best I could.

I’m not like super big or anything but I’m more filled out all over. Most importantly though, I feel very cute and pretty.

Sorry for this long ass post I know you probably didn’t want to hear the personal stuff. But it’s the internet. The land of over sharing.

[hana-bobo-finch]

woah!!!!! it’s pdbc characters lore dump time (can’t call em OCs when half of the ones listed are technically not……….whatever)

tis but a brief summary of a few characters bc I can’t get into them fully, or we’d be here all day. but nonetheless, quick overviews and quick doodles. just because.

uurghghghg first of all Gourdie. I think I’ve mentioned her before? I love her heehee. I would get into the whole fish daughter more but she doesn’t have a set design yet soooo. anyway yeah Gourdie. she is great. she somehow survives by the end but at what cost!!! did not mention it here but one other thing is that she’s accidentally killed someone!!! Whoops!!! It was in self defense, kinda, but even with the almost nonexistent morals most of my characters have that’s still a universal no no, so she never told anyone and blamed it on a bear attack (why a bear would choose to kill someone by throwing a rock at them instead of, yknow, mauling them, is something that was somehow never questioned). anyway I love her

mmmm next up is less of a fleshed out character and more so just…whatever it is. Couldn’t really get into the details of it all here but maybe I will in the future cause I think the illusions are cool………mostly just mentioning this fella bc he’s important to The Lore. Also noooo I can’t believe I forgot to mention it here, but like I said before, Turtlemeister was (maybe) the one who summoned this thing in the first place!!

my beloved……uuuuuuuuuuuuuuu love her SO much. hey guys look it’s one of those ocs that aren’t technically original. Don’t even ask how I managed to twist a character who was in the source material for 7 panels into one of my favorite characters, I don’t know either and I don’t want to think about it too hard bc it makes me feel like a very bizarre person. I wish I could get into her more she is SO awesome and funny. I feel like she comes across as really depressing in the description but she really isn’t lmao she might be a Little traumatized but no more than everyone else….she’s just chillin half the time. UUUURRGHH love her so much……………unfortunately she is, as I said, dead. anyway who’s up next

OH GREAT HEAVENS.

NOT EVEN GONNA TRY TO FIT EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS FREAK IN ONE IMAGE. WHAT THE HELL. TOP 10 PUMPKIN DADDY OF ALL TIME. ERM. UH. WGHERE DO I STAFT. HUH. UHHHHHHH so he is objectively the best and if you disagree you’re wrong. favorite character ever he is the only reason PDBC exists. genuinely will not be able to list even half the things about this pumpkin bastard but I will rapid fire go over whatever pops into my head first

Has a citrus fruit addiction. Allergic to horses. License plate is NOVFD. once ate part of his own leg by mistake because it was in a roast beef sandwich at a concert. is scared of gloves (except for one (allegedly) magical glove named Lucretius). Is scared of King Arthur and the knights of the round table. was once a professional wrestler but had to quit because his opponent Tried To Fucking Kill Him. That’s kinda an important aspect I should go into more but I won’t because this is long enough already. Anyway. hates saltine crackers. technically has hundreds of children depending on what you count as children. they’re not biological children they’re…….ehhh that’s not worth getting into. sorta like the whole fish daughter thing but way more complicated. Has some weird biyearly peach scavenger hunt tradition??? learned to break the laws of physics and all he did was make a beach on the ceiling. is a pyromaniac and has set so much stuff on fire. Including himself but that was by accident. Has a complete monopoly on almost every business down to the smallest of industries like umbrellas. Has a band that makes…songs of debatable quality, on topics such as leprechauns. Somehow has never killed anyone. There are hundreds of thousands of people who want him dead. He likes banana bread and will break into your house to give you some.

As I’m typing this out it sounds like his entire purpose is to be random but I can assure you this all has explanations and he’s surprisingly rather normal. just wanted to clear that up back to what I was saying

He has a grudge against a family of woodpeckers (they wronged him). He has Many Mushroom Memorabilia. He has a bunch of pet mice, his favorite of which was tragically killed by some sicko working at a home improvement company. His dead mice are laid to rest in a mausoleum (GET IT???? MAUSOLEUM??? MAUS!??? GERMAN FOR MOUSE! ! ). he has a medical condition in which your brain physically operates too quickly which can lead to adverse side effects. the second the first snowflake falls he decorates for Christmas (including a living deer with LED lights tied around it). He’s friends with a little alien named Blarg. He has an abnormally low body temperature. He hates Mickey Mouse, and a moth named Michael moth (I think that’s its name?) because it eats his ties. Oh yeah he’s an ungulate, don’t remember why. Has pet llamas whose hair he uses to knit sweaters. Once got hit by a plane. Has had hundreds of thousands of strokes. Has fallen off a mountain (the incident was filmed and used in a commercial). Has the bizarre curse to constantly injure his heel. Once gave out baby pigs that he rescued from a slaughterhouse. Worked in the mines. O’chunks from super paper Mario crashed his wedding. He likes the letter M. He’s scared of snoopy. He’s allergic to turkey. Has little gopher versions of himself. Gets attacked by bugs often. Has high serotonin levels. Absolutely despise mystical creatures called Dinkies and would exterminate them all if it was allowed. I have no idea if he’s dead or not he just disappeared with only a cryptic email left in his wake. A skeleton once threw chemicals at him. Has a cat named shart. Can play guitar and piano. weird….cat….thing….I don’t even know man I can’t explain any of this in a way that makes sense. Maybe someday I will go into further detail but for now you just get an incomplete list of random things I remembered. he has a cohesive narrative I proooomise. if yall want a complete deep dive into him I will provide you with such, but unless there is demand I will spare you guys from having to deal with all of that stuff because it is A Lot.

anyway. face burning in embarrassment. here are my silly little guys thx for reading (coughs up blood)

[ashleigghh]

Day 13- mistletoe. Jegulus, 433 words.

James Potter was a man known for his romantic tendencies. He had a love for love and that was made clear by his actions. For example, for Valentine's Day, he filled Regulus’ car with deep red Dahlias, despite preferring roses as a romantic gesture, simply because they were Regulus’ favourite. That wasn’t even all he did but if we listed everything we’d be here for a long time. 

So, it came as no surprise to anyone that he draped mistletoe all over their home during the festive season. Any place that could have something hung was adorned with mistletoe from the 1st December till whenever Regulus finally persuaded him to take it down (this usually came with a reassurance that James could kiss him anytime he wanted anyway)

During this time, James took full advantage of the rules, kissing Regulus under every piece.

“James,” Regulus laughed, leaning into yet another kiss, “I’m not going to get anything done at this rate,” James hummed, kissing him as they passed under another piece,

“That’s the plan.” The two of them are barely kissing at this point, smiling too much for it to count. James had put the mistletoe up today while Regulus was at work, and from the moment he came home, he had been trailed throughout their flat, barely able to take three steps without a kiss. 

“Honestly, they should let us spend the whole month like this,” James grabs Regulus’ face with both of his hands, the warmth bringing a blush to his skin, and leans their foreheads together, “Like for my health, I don’t think I’d survive without this.” 

“You’re very dramatic, you know that right, Potter?” James laughs gently, keeping their position, soaking in the moment 

“Back to last names, you wound me, Potter” They weren’t technically married yet, but James had taken to calling his boyfriend Regulus Potter, it meant he didn’t have to carry the weight of his memories as much and allowed James to get giddy with the love he felt for Regulus every time he said it. 

“I’m sure you’ll live,” James hums thoughtfully, his hands having moved down to Regulus’ waist, swaying them gently in the hall

“Maybe. If you kiss me,” 

“And why would I do that?” 

“Because you love me,” You can tell by hearing James’ voice that he’s smiling, but Regulus has the pleasure of seeing how bright and beautiful he looks when he smiles.

“That I do,” Regulus responds, wrapping his arms behind James’ neck, and pulling him down to kiss him. They don’t even notice they’re not actually under any mistletoe.

[labellefleur-sauvage]

Disneyland DILF

Summary: While on a family vacation to Disneyland, Elide discovers her husband Lorcan has been featured on the viral Instagram page ‘DILFS of Disneyland.’ 

When he claims not to know what a DILF is, Elide decides the best way she can explain it to him is to demonstrate what the F stands for.

For the wonderful and amazing and talented @headcanonheadcase! I've been teasing this Lorcan DILF fic for a while, so thanks for being patient with me! Thank you for being so kind and supportive, and I hope you enjoy!

Rating: Explicit. See AO3 link for tags.

Word Count: 4.9K

Read on A03

“Come on Jack, look over here! Look at Mommy! Come on baby, just give me one good photo!”

Whoever coined the idiom “herding cats” to describe an impossible task should have instead used something like, “getting your toddler to look at a camera for more than one second for a halfway decent picture.” The latter, Elide decided, conveyed more of the frustrating nuance that people were bound to face, even if it was a bit too lengthy of a phrase. Who even had enough cats to herd anyways?

“Lorcan, can you stop distracting him for one minute, please? I really wanna get a picture of Jack with Pluto. And can you fix his hair?”

Her husband stopped whispering whatever he was saying to their son. He looked up at Elide with a frown.

“I’m not distracting him - I’m just telling him how better dressed he is than every other kid here.”

“Well, maybe don’t do that,” she cringed, as a middle aged woman wearing a pair of Mickey Mouse ears with a gaggle of similarly dressed children behind her shot Lorcan and Elide a dirty look. 

“And I think his hair looks good like this,” Lorcan went on, slightly tussling his son’s dark hair. “It looks effortlessly messy and windswept. Classic.” Jack agreed, as he grinned and clapped his pudgy little hands at his father’s compliments. 

“He’s two,” Elide deadpanned. “He’s not going to be on the cover of Baby Vogue.”

Lorcan hummed. “Is that a thing? It should be, and Jack should be on the cover -“

She sighed; she knew when she lost her battles with her husband, rare that it happened. “One, two, three -“

Quick as a snake, Lorcan turned himself and Jack towards Elide’s phone and gave their biggest grins for the picture: Lorcan’s a small uptick of the corners of his mouth, his long, dark hair swaying in the warm breeze, while Jack grinned toothily at the camera. 

“Oh, that actually turned out pretty good,” Elide said, slowly walking over to show the picture to Lorcan. “And Plutos is in the background, so I guess that technically counts.”

“Pluto’s the dog, right?” Lorcan asked, settling Jack back in his stroller.

Elide looked at her husband exasperatedly. “Yes, Pluto’s the dog. I still don’t understand how you know so little about Disney. It’s like you grew up under a rock.”

Lorcan shrugged as they set off at a slow pace down Disneyland’s broad Main Street and into the heart of the park. “Growing up in an orphanage and joining the military at 18 doesn’t exactly lend itself to having a pop culture filled childhood.”

“Disney transcends pop culture,” Elide muttered distractedly, pulling up the Disneyland app on her smartphone. “I know I should have quizzed you on everything Disney, or at least made you memorize the map of this place.”

“Where are we off to next?” he asked, looking over her shoulder at the map pulled up on her phone.

“Where aren’t we going? Big day planned. Jack loves Tigger so I want to head over to the Critter Country area so he can meet him and get some pictures together. I think we’d all like the Jungle Cruise - can you double check I packed the noise canceling headphones? - watch the parade, hang around in Toontown, depending on how Jack is doing, then end the day by visiting Sleepy Beauty’s castle. That’s been on my to do list since I was a little girl.”  

Lorcan arched an eyebrow. “Is this Disneyland vacation for him or you?”

Elide pursed her lips. “It’s for all of us, you giant twerp. But what do you want to do? I’ll hang back with him if you want to go on rides or visit the Star Wars area.”

“I don’t need to do anything other than be with you two. Just keep me fed and I’ll go wherever you tell me.”

Elide grinned. “Smart man. How about we head over to Adventureland for the Jungle Cruise? I think he’d like the animals.”

“Lead on,” Lorcan said, wheeling Jack’s stroller around and following Elide further into the park.

The Jungle Cruise was a hit. Lorcan strapped Jack into his front-facing toddler carrier and held him the entire time, making sure his headphones were on and pointing out the different animals they saw, to Jack’s delight. Elide should have spent the ride taking in the sights around her - this Disneyland trip was truthfully perhaps more for her than for their son - but she couldn’t help but let her gaze linger on Lorcan. 

Devilishly handsome didn’t seem like it did her husband justice. Nearly seven feet tall, with shiny shoulder length dark hair, a perfectly symmetrical face, and rippling muscles that didn’t seem real, Elide knew Lorcan was a catch. 

But what she adored even more about him was his personality: his quiet, understated humor, how loyal he was, his bravery, and his unending support for everything Elide put her mind to. He carried her weight  - sometimes literally - when her disability became too much for her and she struggled to walk even with her ankle brace on. 

Best of all, he was an excellent father. Before Jack had been born, he’d confessed to Elide that he was scared that he didn’t know how to be a good dad and he’d do something to traumatically mess up Jack’s life. She didn’t believe that for a second; she had full faith in him, and told him that repeatedly. The first time Lorcan held Jack after he was born was the closest Elide had ever seen him to crying. 

And now here he was, willingly walking around the capitalistic hell that was Disneyland, all so his wife and son could have a picture perfect day. What a lucky woman she was.

“I think he really enjoyed that,” Lorcan commented after they collected their stroller from the front of the ride. He decided to keep wearing Jack in his front-facing carrier - “He’ll be able to see things better that way,” he reasoned - and Elide wasn’t going to complain, especially since seeing Lorcan carry their kid around sent odd little flutters throughout her body. 

“He did,” Elide cooed, re-fastening Jack’s little velcro shoes so he wouldn’t kick them off. “I got a good picture of him looking at elephants.”

“Good thing he didn’t seem to realize what the lions were doing to that zebra.”

Elide shuddered. “Yeah, maybe some parts of this ride aren’t the best for babies and toddlers.”

“Where to next?” Lorcan asked. “Try to find Tigger and then lunch?”

“Sounds like a plan,” Elide said, kissing Jack’s cheek and squeezing Lorcan’s hand. “Want me to take the stroller?”

“You navigate, I’ll steer.”

She quickly learned Disneyland was much larger than the little map on her phone made it look. By the time they found Tigger and took dozens of pictures of an excited Jack with his favorite character, and let him burn some energy on a Winnie the Pooh playground, Elide’s ankle throbbed with every footstep she took. She hobbled to a sitting bench and watched Jack go down a slide before running back up to go down again and again.

“How are you doing?” Lorcan questioned, sitting down next to her on the bench.

“I may have underestimated how much walking we were going to do today,” she admitted, leaning down to rub her ankle. 

“Want your brace?”

She grimaced. “Maybe not right now. I’ll try to wait until after lunch. Speaking of, I think Jack’s getting hungry and tired - want to see if we can find somewhere to sit out of the sun?”

They found a shaded and relatively quiet restaurant in the New Orleans area, and Elide sat at the table and put on her ankle brace, waiting for their food, as Lorcan walked around with Jack in the picturesque square outside the restaurant. She watched them contentedly as Jack toddled over a short railing into a flower bed and stuck his entire head into a bunch of flowers. Rather than pull him out, Lorcan crouched down next to him and started pointing out different flowers to Jack.

Sighing happily, she took a sip of her mocktail and closed her eyes, leaning back in her chair. Besides her ankle, the day was going perfectly. 

“Mama! Mama!”

She opened her eyes. Lorcan was walking towards her with Jack on his hip, a bunch of bright flowers, dirty roots and all, dangling from his fat fist.

“He was very interested in the flowers, and I told him how much you like flowers too,” Lorcan said, putting Jack in a high chair as he thrust the flowers at Elide. 

“Oh Jack, these are perfect,” Elide gasped, fighting the tears that had welled in her eyes and taking the bright arrangement from her son. She leaned down to kiss Jack on a chubby cheek. “Thank you so much baby.”

“Seems I’m gonna have to do better the next time I give you flowers,” Lorcan grumbled. “Not sure how I’m gonna compete with a fresh Disney bouquet.”

“I’m surprised no one came and shooed you away,” Elide noted, wrapping the bottom of the flowers in a napkin and tucking them in the stroller. 

“Oh, someone did,” Lorcan confirmed nonchalantly. “Especially when Jack tossed a bunch of tulips on the ground. They didn’t seem to like us damaging park property, or something.”

“Lorcan!” Elide admonished. “You didn’t make someone miserable over some flowers, did you?”

No, I just stood up and I guess they thought better about trying to yell at me. Besides, it’d be well worth making anyone miserable if it made you happy.”

“Aw. That is so sweet and threatening.”

He winked and gave her a small smile. “Anything for you.”

They took their time with lunch and by the time they finished, Jack had fallen asleep in his stroller. Deciding to let him sleep, they staked out a shaded bit of lawn and sat down to watch the parade from a distance. Full of energy when he woke up, they leisurely made their way over to Toontown and got in line for the steam train ride.

“I can take him for a bit,” Elide suggested, picking a bench in the back of the train so Lorcan wouldn’t block anyone out. “You’ve been handling him a lot today.”

“I got him,” Lorcan said, sitting Jack on his lap. “You just sit and relax.”

Her husband had apparently designated himself as being on ‘Jack Duty’ all day, as he refused to let Elide even push his stroller or hold him, besides whenever she thrust her phone at Lorcan and asked him to take pictures. 

“Is that safe, Lorcan?” Elide asked nervously after they had gotten off the train. Her husband had just thrown Jack onto his shoulders, giving him the best view in the entire park.

“Course,” Lorcan grunted, holding onto their son’s legs, his arms flexing as they walked towards Goofy’s Playhouse. “Just want to make sure he can see everything. He loves people watching, just like his mom.”

They set Jack down and he immediately ran into the bright, cartoon style house.

“He’s gonna sleep so well tonight,” Elide sighed happily. 

“And we won’t?” Lorcan countered, an eyebrow raised.

“Good point. I’m glad tomorrow is a lazy day at the beach.”

By the time they dragged Jack away nearly an hour later, even he had come to the conclusion that he was ready to leave. Burying his face in Lorcan’s shoulder, he didn’t seem to mind stopping at Sleeping Beauty’s castle. Elide didn’t have the energy to go up and explore any of the winding passages and staircases, but Lorcan still took her picture everywhere she could go in the castle, juggling her phone in one hand and their near-sleeping son in the other.

“You could have put him in the stroller,” Elide said as they made their way back to their car, double and triple checking that they hadn’t lost anything in the park.

“That’s alright. Didn’t want to risk waking him up.”

Dinner was some fast food they picked up on the way back to their Airbnb. Jack picked at his food and didn’t fight them as they gave him a quick bath and Lorcan got him settled for bed in the small second bedroom of the condo. Elide showered and stepped into the master bedroom to find Lorcan laying on the bed reading a book.

“Did he go down pretty easy?” she asked, drying her hair.

 “Oh yeah. Only made it a few more pages into The Hobbit before he passed out.”

“God, same kid,” Elide groaned, throwing on her pajamas and crawling into bed next to Lorcan, grabbing her phone and looking through the several hundred photos she and Lorcan had managed to snap that day.

Opening Instagram, she scrolled through her friend’s recent posts and videos - Aelin and Rowan celebrating their wedding anniversary, Manon’s rescue bulldog Abraxos officially completing training to become a therapy dog, and some professional pictures of Yrene, Chaol and their daughter - before she noticed a ‘Suggested for You’ account:

dilfs_of_disneyland

Elide snorted and scrolled away. How stupid and niche. It was probably filled with a few blurry creepshots of men at Disneyland, or a PR stunt of some kind for a movie or TV show or podcast. No, thank you. Elide had standards. She scrolled away.

On the other hand, she was on vacation; her standards could take a break. She scrolled back up and clicked on the account and was brought to a professional looking Instagram page:

DILFS of Disneyland: Welcome to the Happiest place on Instagram!

Apparently the account wasn’t niche at all - it had over 400,000 followers, and more than 1,200 posts, all featuring pictures of handsome men with babies and toddlers at Disneyland. Elide was stunned, scrolling through post after post after post of men with their kids at Disneyland, doing frankly normal things - pushing strollers, posing for pictures, eating ice cream and churros with their kids - but there was something… else, something more she couldn’t quite put her finger on that made these men extra appealing. 

Not that she would ever admit this to Lorcan. Snorting, she scrolled back to the top of the page when she noticed a new post from today with an all too familiar face:

“WOW 😍😍 A DILF to beat all DILFS! Taking Tall, Dark and Handsome to a new DILF-y level!! #hotdads #dilfsofdisneyland #dilfalert #strollermeat”

There was her husband, in all his DILF-y glory from throughout the day: Lorcan walking with Jack strapped to his chest, Lorcan pushing Jack in his stroller, and even one from late in the day when Jack sat on Lorcan’s shoulders. Elide had to give it to the photographer on that one - his arms and chest looked absolutely ripped in the photo. 

And the internet agreed. The post had only been up for a few hours and already amassed several hundred likes and over one hundred comments, all from women - and some men - going feral for Lorcan.

“Call the fire department, cuz I’m about to climb that DILF like a tree and get stuck”

“Hello Daddy😏😘”

“God bless this Disney DILF🙏🏻🙏🏻”

Elide couldn’t help but chuckle. She maybe should be concerned that someone had been stalking her husband at Disneyland but as she looked through the many comments bemoaning how hot and unavailable Lorcan was, she didn’t feel any anger for the people drooling over her husband. Her chuckle morphed into a full laugh, until Elide was snorting in laughter.

“What are you laughing at?”

Lorcan was staring at her, his brow furrowed. 

“Your greatest fear has come true,” Elide gasped out. 

Lorcan sat up. “Rowan got some stupid award he can rub in my face?”

“No, you’re internet famous. Kind of.”

“What?” he snapped, rolling on his side to try to look at her phone. “What happened?”

“It’s nothing bad,” she said, working to contain her laughter. “The internet says you’re a DILF.”

Lorcan stared at her blankly. “A what?”

“A DILF. You know,” she repeated, waving her hand like that would explain the acronym.

"What’s a DILF?”

Elide sat up on her elbows. “Wait, really? You don’t know what a DILF is?” She narrowed her eyes and cocked her head at Lorcan, studying him for any of his lying tells. 

“Really. What’s it mean?”

“You’re thirty-four!” Elide exclaimed. “How do you not know what a DILF is?”

“Well, I’m not glued to my phone twenty-four seven -”

“Because your old flip phone doesn't have internet and you only have three people’s phone numbers.”

“Just tell me what it means,” Lorcan grumbled, pouting. 

Elide snickered. “It means ‘dad I’d like to fuck.’ There’s an Instagram page devoted to dads in Disneyland, and you’re proving very popular.” She handed her phone to Lorcan and watched him read through the myriad of comments left on his pictures. 

“Huh. That’s… interesting.”

Elide shrugged. “Maybe a little odd, but they don’t mean any harm by it. Just people admiring how hot and good of a dad you are.”

“And being a dad… makes me more attractive to women?”

“Oh definitely. There have been times when you’ve been so good with Jack I jumped you when we put him down for a nap. And seeing you today, holding Jack, playing with him…” she trailed off, biting her lip and sweeping her eyes down his body.

“Really? That gets you going?”

“Maybe,” she purred, crawling over to him and swinging her leg over him so she sat on his lap, “I could put on a demonstration of the ‘F’ in DILF, if you still need convincing.”

He grinned, trailing his big hands up her slim thighs. “I’ve always been more of a hands-on learner. That might help it… sink in.”

“Maybe if you’re lucky, that won’t be the only thing you’ll be sinking into,” she murmured, leaning down to capture Lorcan’s lips against hers. 

Lorcan’s warm hands grasped the sides of her head to keep her still as their tongues met. Elide sighed with pleasure. She could spend all night just kissing her husband, feeling his large body flex and shift underneath her, his hands trailing soft caresses down her body. His fingers dove beneath her sleep shorts. She was already wet. She gasped as his fingers trailed up and down her slit before plunging a thick finger inside her. 

“Guess you weren’t kidding about getting turned on by me being a DILF,” Lorcan mumbled against her, nipping her bottom lip. 

Groaning, she rolled off him and threw herself off the bed, tugging her clothes off. “Well, hop to it,” she breathed, laughing softly as Lorcan fumbled to get his pants and shirt off. 

She took a moment to stare at his body: a strong chest covered with a smattering of dark hair that formed a dark line below his belly button, thick thighs that could crush a person to death if he needed to. And his cock. Thick, long, and perfectly proportional to his big body and which looked obscene next to Elide’s petite form.

Lorcan lay on the bed, absentmindedly stroking his cock as he looked Elide up and down. “Dad you’d like to fuck, hm?” He murmured. “How about I get you warmed up for a fucking?”

Elide shivered. “What do you have in mind?”

“I like the idea of… sinking into you.” He grinned lazily, and her belly tightened with anticipation. “Get on.”

He grabbed a small bottle of lube and coated his thick length liberally. She climbed on top of Lorcan and gasped as he spun her around and settled her over his cock, her knees bracketing his hips as she faced away from his face, towards his long legs and feet. She turned around to look at him. 

“Just wanna feel you around me,” he remarked. Grabbing his cock, he pulled her down, letting her take him within her at her own pace.

Elide moaned. Even after all this time, she still needed to take him slowly, let him stretch out her inner walls. The lube helped immensely. She swirled her hips, taking an inch before withdrawing and taking another, then another, then another, Lorcan’s deep groans egging her on. Finally she sunk down fully against his body. She started to raise herself on her knees to start that intimate rhythm they both knew so well when Lorcan’s hands gripped her hips.

“Hold on,” he said, not letting her move. “Now that you’re here, I wanna enjoy this.”

“Were you not having fun before?” Elide gasped, feeling him twitch inside her. 

“Oh, I was and still am,” he said, caressing her hips. “Just come back down and lean forward a bit - yeah, just like that.”

Elide blushed as she leaned forward over Lorcan’s body, grabbing his knees for leverage. She felt exposed and open as Lorcan hummed appreciatively, rubbing his hand over one of her ass cheeks. 

“You take me so well,” he murmured. “I think this is a nice interlude before I fuck you. Just wanna feel you warming my cock.”

She craned her neck and gave him an annoyed look. This is not at all what she thought he meant by ‘warming her up.’ “And what about me?”

Lorcan raised an eyebrow. “I was under the impression that we ended up here because you get so turned on just by me being a good dad. Don’t I have a say in how I want to be fucked?”

“Well, I guess, but -“

“Then just sit there nice and pretty on my cock,” he soothed. “Don’t move though, just stay still.”

“Lorcan,” Elide squirmed against him. “I need -“

“Don’t worry, I’ll fuck you full in a bit,” he said distractedly, and Elide knew he felt her cunt clench around his cock ar his words. “I just wanna finish this chapter -“

She tsked. “Really?” 

“Yeah,” he said, reaching for his book with one hand and rubbing her back with the other. “Just a few minutes.”

Elide sighed and turned her head back towards Lorcan’s legs, forcing herself to relax. She considered herself fairly adventurous in bed, and her and Lorcan had a very open and healthy sex life, but this was one thing they hadn’t tried yet. Elide didn’t see the appeal in cockwarming, but actually experiencing it, well…

Lorcan subtly shifted his hips and she felt his cock somewhere in her stomach. Cursing, she gripped his knees and made herself stay still. This wasn’t how she thought this would go. When she initially climbed on his lap she thought she’d suck him for a bit then ride him, or maybe bend herself over the bed so he could pound into her from behind.

But here she was, hypersensitive and aware of every little movement and touch from Lorcan, only a few breaths away from breaking and begging him to do something.

Which is probably why he did this. Jerk.

“I can hear you thinking.” She refused to turn around to look at him but she could hear the smirk in his voice.

“Just thinking how I actually wanted to fuck my husband, not stare at a wall with his cock stuffed in me,” she sniffed. 

Lorcan laughed. “Ok, Ok, I get it. You’re lucky I’m done with my chapter.”

She whined as he lifted her off his length. She felt horribly cold and empty until he flipped her around on her back and kneeled in between her legs. 

“That wasn’t even five minutes, just so you know,” Lorcan said, stroking his slick cock and glancing down to her red pussy. 

“Bullshit,” she gasped as her husband gripped her thighs and hauled her towards him so her legs were resting over his hips. “Felt like an hour.”

He hummed. “I should fuck you for an hour, so you have a frame of reference next time we do this.” He laid a wide spread hand on her stomach and moved his hand up her torso.

“What a perfect little wife you are,” he whispered. Elide gulped; his hand covered nearly her entire chest, and his fingers graced the hollow of her throat.

“Please,” she gasped, licking her lips and shifting her hips to graze his cock. 

“So tiny, but like you were made for me.” He looked down to where they were almost joined. His cock jutted obscenely out over her stomach. 

“Is this what you imagined?” He asked, dragging the head of his cock over her clit before settling at her entrance. “When you told me that I’m a DILF, and how excited that makes you?”

Elide couldn’t answer, her eyes darting between Lorcan’s dark gaze and his thick cock so close to where she wanted him. 

He squeezed her thighs. “Well?”

“Yes,” she said in a broken whisper. “Yes, I imagined you fucking me so hard -“

Lorcan pushed into her in one hard stroke and Elide lost her train of thought. Lost every thought she’d ever had, honestly, as Lorcan gripped her waist and set a hard pace. 

Elide grabbed Lorcan’s forearms as he pounded into her, needing to feel even more of his warm body and to keep herself from moving around the bed with the power of his thrusts. She threw her head back at a particularly rough thrust.

“Fuck Lorcan,” she groaned, aware that she couldn’t be as loud as she wanted with Jack in the room next door. 

“God, you’re always so tight,” he grunted out, wrapping his arms around her thighs and hauling her lower half off the bed and further into his lap, letting him thrust even deeper inside her. “Feel so good. Is this hard enough for you?”

“Yes!” Her orgasm inched closer and closer. She reached down and started circling her clit rapidly. If he kept fucking her just like this, and she kept touching herself…

“I wonder how turned on you’d get if we had another,” he said, staring down at her intently. “You wouldn’t be able to keep your hands off me, would you?”

Lorcan didn’t get an answer as Elide came, squeezing her eyes shut and biting her lip to keep herself quiet. Warmth spread throughout her body as her orgasm traveled along her nerves, lighting her up from the inside. She was vaguely aware of a muffled groan above her and more warmth between her legs as Lorcan came.

He dropped her limp legs and bracketed his arms next to Elide’s head, careful not to crush her as he gave her a gentle kiss before rolling beside her. They lay in blissful silence for a few moments, each focusing on slowing their erratic breathing, when Lorcan let out a huff of air, then another, until he started chuckling.

“DILFs of Disneyland. How many likes did the post have?”

“Hm?” Elide mumbled, halfway to falling asleep.

“Were there a lot of comments on my post? I only saw about a dozen.”

“A lot of… what?”

“Any chance you can check your phone?”

She propped herself on one elbow to stare at Lorcan, brows furrowed. “What? You don’t know anything about Instagram or how it works.”

Lorcan rolled his eyes. “Of course I know how Instagram works. I browse it every now and then.”

“How? Your phone doesn’t have any apps!”

“The desktop.”

“Your old desktop computer?” Elide asked, flabbergasted. “I didn’t realize that thing still worked. And whose accounts are you looking at?”

“Yours, obviously.”

Oh. “Lorcan,” Elide said, grinning softly. “That’s so sweet -“

“And the DILFs of Disneyland page.”

The grin vanished from her face. “What.”

“Yeah, Rowan showed it to me when I told him we were coming here, and he said he and Aelin and their girl are planning a trip later this year. I bet him I could not only get featured on the DILFs of Disneyland Instagram account, but also get more likes than him if he manages to get featured too.”

Elide stared at her smug husband, slack jawed. “So the entire day you insisted on holding and wheeling Jack around -“

“Was because I wanted to spend time with him and so your ankle wouldn’t get sore and we’d have to leave early,” he said gently, bringing her down to lay on his chest. “But if it also meant there were lots of opportunities for me to look hot as hell while holding Jack, then that was nice too.”

“You self centered ass,” Elide said, lightly smacking his shoulder as Lorcan laughed. Elide couldn’t help but join in, shaking her head all the while. 

“Well, what did you two idiots bet on?”

“Bragging rights and the loser has to get a shirt for the winner proclaiming them the official DILF of Disneyland.”

“If you somehow win, that will be a bedroom shirt only,” Elide warned. 

“Definitely not. I’m gonna wear it around all the time. Get fucked, Rowan.”

“Then you’ll be the one to explain to Jack what a DILF is.”

“This is great,” Lorcan said, pointedly ignoring Elide. “As soon as we get back, I’m gonna email him my DILF pictures -“

“God, you’re such an old man,” Elide laughed, throwing herself dramatically on the bed next to him. “Living up to the reputation of dads being terrible with technology.”

“I make up for it in other ways, don’t I?” he breathed against her neck, his lips trailing past her collarbone and breasts and stomach and then even lower.

“Oh! Yes, I suppose you do have your strengths,” Elide mused breathlessly as Lorcan settled his head between her thighs. 

Unfortunately for Elide, Lorcan received his DILF of Disneyland shirt from Rowan, and he gloated insufferably. Fortunately for her, though, Lorcan made sure to show his wife how he became a DILF, and she couldn’t walk straight for two days. 

She had to give it to them: the DILFs of Disneyland account really was the happiest place on Instagram.

[agaypanic]

i was watching the chapter of "cynthia's back" and i would like to ask for an image with the same theme. only this time reader (fem!reader) is reese's girlfriend and she is insecure about her breasts. and reese consoles her somehow, nothing nsfw, rather sfw!!! please and thank you. 🫶🫶

Who Says (Reese Wilkerson X Reader)

Masterlist

Request Something!

Summary: Reese tries convincing you that you shouldn’t pay your insecurities any mind.

A/N: Bc of the similar theme to the episode, reader has bigger breasts, but other than that her body isn’t really described. Also fic is titled after that Selena Gomez song bc sometimes titles are hard

***

You were already having a shitty day. You slept in late so you had to run to school, had a surprise pop quiz in the class you hated the most, grouped with the worst people for a project in your favorite class, and the lunch was horrible. Like, you wouldn’t be surprised if you got food poisoning from it. You just wanted to go home and nap off your bad mood, but when school let out, your boyfriend Reese reminded you that you two had agreed to go shopping for prom. You wanted to reschedule but knew that if you did, you’d never get around to it, especially with Reese’s tendency to get grounded and pull crazy schemes.

When you got to the mall, you ran into a bigger problem.

“God, why can’t you just zip?” You grumbled to yourself. This was the fifth dress you’ve tried on, and none of them fit, even though they were your size. Puberty had cursed you with big boobs, and although you usually were okay with them, they made clothes shopping a pain in the ass. “Please, I’m fucking begging for you to just zip.”

“Everything okay, Y/n?” Reese asked on the other side of the door. The question just made you more frustrated because everything wasn’t okay. You flung open the door, yanked Reese inside, and slammed the door shut. “Y/n, I don’t think we’re allowed to fool around in public.”

“Shut up, Reese.” You laughed weakly, the stupid joking lifting your mood slightly. You started unzipping your dress. “Nothing’s fitting.”

“Do you need me to get a bigger size?” He caught your sad look and panicked. “Not that your fat. I’m not saying that; I don’t mean that.”

“No, it’s not that, Reese.” You let the dress pool on the floor and threw on your sweater, oversized enough to hide what you were currently having a problem with without drowning you in fabric. “It’s no use. I might as well show up to prom in a burlap sack.”

“Y/n, what’s wrong?”

“Everything! If I get a dress that fits me, it doesn’t fit my boobs. If I get a dress that fits my boobs, it’s too big for my body. There’s no middle!” You turned to stare at yourself in the mirror, feeling hopeless. 

Reese looked at you through the mirror’s reflection. Comforting people wasn’t exactly his expertise; it was more the opposite. He was usually the reason people needed comfort. But he had to at least try. Hesitantly, he rested a hand lightly on your hip. When you seemed okay with his touch, he pulled you until your back was to his chest. He rested his chin on your shoulder, now making eye contact through the mirror.

“It’ll be okay.” That seemed like a good start, but you didn’t look so convinced. “You have time to figure it out; prom’s in like two months anyway.”

“But that’s not enough time to get rid of… these.” You gestured to your chest defeatedly.

“Who said you had to get rid of them?”

“I feel like a freak.”

“Well, you shouldn’t.” Reese’s hands slithered to wrap around you. “Look, I’m not gonna lie. I think it’s hot that you have big boobs.” You couldn’t help but laugh. “But that’s not the only thing about you I like. I’d list them, but we’d get kicked out from how long we’d be in here. The point is, you’ll have the time to figure it all out. Don’t stress it. You could show up in a burlap sack and still be the prettiest girl there.”

You nodded, taking in the words. Reese was right, you supposed. It’s not like you needed the dress tomorrow. But you wanted to be like the other girls who get their dress in advance so they could hang it up on their door and count down the days until the special event to wear it.

“Now, here’s what we’re gonna do; let me know what you think. You put your pants on, we put all this shit back on the racks and go to Auntie Anne’s. I want a pretzel.” You couldn’t help but smile.

“That sounds like a good plan.” You turned your head to meet Reese’s lips, kissing him sweetly before pulling away to finish getting dressed.

[thecrenellations]

Top 5 Lymond ships?

I’m going to keep this to romantic* ships, but my list of top 5 Lymond relationships of any kind definitely includes some platonic and family ones (and is even more difficult to confine to 5).

*other or additional adjectives may certainly apply…

click below for spoilers and because my answers got long. Augh, these characters!

Francis/Will - The nicknames! The fights! The stars! Strip tarocco and its narrative implications! Then the wedding day sheep battle, the tactical cross-dressing, “everything there was to know about Lymond’s way with women” ?!?!, the ring, the way Will is there at Midculter when Francis comes home in DK… They’re such a disaster, in hilarious and serious ways, but they make it through to real trust and friendship in the end, and I just love them.

Francis/Philippa - Their relationship is always important and telling and entertaining, and after a certain point but before the suffering sets in, they just keep making each other smile and laugh, by accident and on purpose. Reading their scenes in RC is like genuinely being in the room with them, with banter and chemistry that is PALPABLE and makes me into a third wheel, but as a reader I also have insights that they don’t, so I’m in on it too? Or something. They love each other so much! And after everything, they get to be together. Francis, you fool, this is what you should be!

Francis/Jerott - if you’d told me when I was in the middle of reading the series that they’d be on this list, I’d be like, “Uh, ok, sure. Dorothy Dunnett has changed my opinion about characters before.” If you'd told me when I had just finished the series, I’d go, “Huh??” But here I am. There is so much wrong with both of them, and we know it all too well, but they are so important to each other, and Jerott is one of the characters closest to the story's heart. Getting Jerott safely out of the disaster that is DK is one of the things Francis promises himself, and he’s so glad when Jerott decides to stay. Their relationship, especially in PiF, becomes deeply devoted and strange and delicate and absolutely full of self-deception on both sides. But Francis never stops trusting him, even when he’s busy running away from all of his own feelings with increasing speed, even when Jerott is being awful to him. And all the desperate conflict within Jerott distills to the essential element of being there for Francis, every time it comes down to it. Also, the way Jerott calls him his first name more than anyone else (on-page, in the series’ scope) messes me up.

Marthe/Güzel - I REALLY wish we’d gotten to see more of them. For Marthe, PiF is (among many other things) this long, agonizing breakup, but we only get a few clear glimpses of it. That scene between them in Djerba! Marthe plays a song wishing misfortune on the brother she knows her girlfriend is zeroing in on, and she cries because Güzel has happiness (does she though 😬) and she has none! And I cry too! And the whole mess that web of relationships becomes is fascinating (and one of the clearest examples of how queer these books are, yay), and there's also the parallels with Francis and Margaret, to consider? Anyway, to quote @sophosthewisebunny, Marthe deserves better than the shadiest bitch in the Mediterranean/someone who would leave her for her brother, but their relationship is very interesting.

Francis/Güzel - Rereading RC, every scene between them made me feel dead inside, while also making me want to run around screaming and then return to my book to savor every word. There’s so much going on with them, hardly any of it good, and since I was just thinking about the previous ship on the list, I have to wonder how their relationships to Marthe affect how they relate to each other, because that’s an interesting question, too.

honorable mention to Francis/Míkál, entirely because of this, and Francis -ahem- Lymond/Richard Chancellor, because another thing that happened as I was rereading RC was that I realized just how much I’d missed about how important they are to each other, in such a rare and needed way (the first time, I was busy losing it about the brother prophecy and yelling at Francis to be friends with Adam and Alec again).

[sciroccoorion35]

Scraps

This was in my original draft of Tooting Roommates and won't make it into the new RR version I'm doing with @hailqiqi but wanted to share because I thought it was a sweet scene.

When we got back to my flat, I fell into my post-case routine. However, my routine did not account for long limbed, over eager boys prancing about, trying to help me with everything. Lockwood had apparently regained his good humour and was making a nuisance of himself. I gently, but firmly told him to sit in one of the chairs and oil the chains while I made us a couple of pot noodles.

“No cocoa?” he teased.

“I keep forgetting to buy milk,” I shrugged. “Does Holly keep you well supplied for cocoa, or has she converted you all to drinking something healthier? Carrot juice perhaps?”

Lockwood laughed. “No, I think if she tried that George would mutiny.”

I smiled, imagining George and Holly rowing over the sugar content of certain Portland Row staples.

“I’m sorry, this really isn’t up to Portland Row standards,” I said as I set the pot noodles down in front of Lockwood.

“Nonsense,” he said, waving his hand airily. “It’s mostly just been toast and whatever Holly’s put in the fridge lately, anyways. ”

“Oh? Why’s that?” I asked. Of all the things I missed about Portland Row, George’s cooking was certainly in the top ten, if not the top five. I’d caught myself making that list more than once and had banned myself from ever thinking about it again. But with Lockwood here, it was hard not to.

“Well, you know,” he said, as he tried to take a large bite of the noodles and burned his tongue. “Ouch. Sorry, I meant, you know, we’ve been quite busy.”

I nodded, sitting down with my own cup and blowing judiciously on it.

“Plus, George has been a bit… irate with me,” Lockwood said, stirring his noodles and blowing on them. “He hasn’t been cooking much.”

I frowned. That didn’t sound like George. He loved cooking for us. Even when he was screaming at me to stop moving things around in the kitchen drawers, I’d still get a full bowl of tagine, or kebabs, or whatever he was cooking that day. If they’d been surviving on toast and Holly’s protein waffles all winter, no wonder George had been in such a foul mood. But he couldn’t blame that on me, surely. I hadn’t made him stop cooking. 

It was strange, I had expected the members of Lockwood and Co. to pull together when I left. In my darker moments, I’d imagined them all sitting around the table or the library, happily sipping cocoa, chatting and teasing each other, the way we’d always done. I’d imagined them realising they were better off without me, toasting their good fortune that I’d gone. It wasn’t one of my favourite fantasies. It was one that crept in when I was feeling particularly bad about how I’d left things.

Somehow, finding out that they’d all been suffering a bit without me made me feel both a great sense of relief and a horrible, needling guilt. 

Lockwood was eating his noodles more carefully now, but with great relish. He’d removed his jacket and tie and his hair stuck out every which way, somehow still managing to look like it belonged in a magazine. It was growing less odd, having him in my flat. At least the place was as clean as it had ever been since I moved in.

I wanted to thank him for volunteering to shoehorn himself into my breadbox of a flat until it was safe again. I wanted to apologise for everything I’d put him and the others through. I wanted to break down and tell him about how lonely I’d been without them all.

“Tell me about that case you mentioned,” I said suddenly. I needed a distraction from the thoughts in my head and Lockwood was good at telling stories, when he wanted to be.

“What case?” he asked.

“The one you mentioned the other day, that you said I would have enjoyed.”

“Oh, that,” he said smiling. “Well, it was all George’s fault, really…”

I listened to him talk as I ate my noodles, laughing frequently at his descriptions. It was so nice to hear his voice, to be near him again. I focused on that feeling and tried to forget about the guilt and the doubt. I just wanted to enjoy this time I had with him, if only for a little while.

[mediumtires]

It's two days into the summer break and I'm already going through vroom vroom withdrawals, so I re-read Seven Years then decided to nitpick season 5 of DTS. Seven Years is so stuck in my head (especially with last weekend's ass grab) that I started to wonder how Christian and Toto's relationship would affect DTS. Would there be a full episode about their relationship? Would they be more included in each other's episodes? Would Netflix try to get footage of the two acting like a couple? The only guarantee is that Tumblr would be analysis every interaction between the two because we already do that.

Also, I use Microsoft Edge over google so I thought you might find this funny.

The first thing they list is that he is a racing driver, not a successful team principal, a racing driver. :p

ohhh this is such an interesting take!

personally i didn’t make dts a thing in seven years because i just didn’t want to deal with the mess of it. it adds a whole other layer of emotional clusterfucks of being exposed to the wider public (outside of the f1 bubble even), even more cameras following them around the paddock, mic-ed up 24/7. there is a snippet i started writing after the whole “change your fucking car” business that i couldn’t even finish because the whole thing was so messy and i could not come up with a proper way to solve this because i was so embarrassed for them lmao.

but let’s walk for a second. let’s say their involuntary outing happens and dts are around for it all, i do think netflix would be a perfect vessel to promote lgbtq+ visibility and rights in motorsports and both pr teams would jump at the chance. obviously an outing like this is a huge fuck up marketing wise, nothing was planned, no one was prepared for it so they’d need to act quick and with netflix around, they’d have the perfect opportunity to angle the narrative any way they want. plus for netflix it would obviously mean Millions. everyone and their mother would watch the new season.

not sure they’d have a full episode. don’t think christian or toto would agree to this during some of the worst moments of their lives lol and in seven years i tried my best to not glorify or romanticise a shitty situation like being outed by someone else against your will. but i do think they’d both still want to be on dts, they enjoy the spotlight and the attention too much. in my mind they’d both show up to their netflix interviews smirking, a little ala “look at you and your lil cameras, i had a secret you couldn’t even imagine being true, you only know the things i choose to tell you, i’m in charge here”. to me that’s kind of a power move. i also think certain questions would simply be blacklisted so all we’d get would be ambiguous layered eye-twinkling comments about the rival team principal while touching their wedding rings. “oh toto slammed that desk *eye roll* yeah he’s so emotional *smirk*” or “christian has a big mouth, don’t believe everything he says, i don’t” or “singapore last year? yeah i think…. i think we won. did we? can’t remember, i was a little busy” but they don’t ever talk about singapore directly.

post outing i don’t think we’d get much husband material on dts. i tried very hard to write them as being private about their relationship and i still think that rings true, even post outing. there were instances where i thought it’d be significant and meaningful to them as a couple to show their support for each other a little more publicly (or maybe just a little less secretively) but those moments were about them more so than an act for the public or the cameras. in my mind they wouldn’t walk hand in hand through the paddock just because they can, not mid season on a thursday morning anyway. they’re professionals and they’re at work. but it’s a different thing when a netflix camera zooms in on them through a window and they’re having a quiet lunch tucked away in some corner of rb hospitality, or a brush of hands or a discreet smile when they pass each other somewhere and a camera is around to pick up on it.

so that’s my take! the most interesting angle to me though is how the public perception suddenly changes from seeing them as individuals to seeing them as a unit. it rewires your brain from “oh these two are fun, they hate each other” to “oh these two….. don’t hate each other. in actuality they…. they seem to love each other enough to be…. husbands. huh”

[makeste]

update part two: THE SPOILERING

~*~THIS POST IS ENTIRELY ABOUT BNHA MANGA SPOILERS.~*~ IF YOU ARE NOT CAUGHT UP WITH THE CURRENT EVENTS OF THE BNHA MANGA, PLEASE DO NOT READ THIS POST. I do have a separate "hey guys I'm back" update post here which is spoiler-free!

THIS POST, THOUGH, IS NOT SPOILER-FREE. IT IS THE OPPOSITE OF SPOILER-FREE. IT EXISTS SOLELY FOR THE PURPOSE OF DISCUSSING THE BIGGEST, MOST SPOILERLY SPOILERS EVER. IF THAT IS NOT YOUR DESIRE, PLEASE PROCEED AWAY FROM THIS POST WITH ALL HASTE.

I am, however, assuming that something like 90% of this blog's readership does, in fact, know exactly what this post is about, which is why we are going to TALK ABOUT IT right here and right now underneath this tidy read-more.

okay, so! gonna stick with the random imaginary Q&A format from my other post just to make things easier.

1. "wow makeste, way to randomly go on spoiler lockdown hiatus for NINE WHOLE MONTHS only to MAGNIFICENTLY DROP THE BALL by running smack dab into THE BIGGEST BNHA SPOILER OF ALL TIME."

I know right??

2. "so what do you have to say for yourself."

short version: I made the critical tactical error of existing as a human being in the general vicinity of the internet in early August 2022. very poor move on my part. rookie mistake.

long version: so there I was, minding my own business, watching the trailer for BnHA season 6, as one does. when out of nowhere, YouTube's algorithm decided to be all "OH? THIS PERSON LIKES MY HERO ACADEMIA? BOY DO I HAVE A RECOMMENDATION FOR THEM." next thing I know, I'm scrolling through my YT home page and ALL OF A SUDDEN THERE'S A DETAILED PICTURE OF MY SON'S MANGLED BLOODY CORPSE, RIGHT NEXT TO AN ALL-CAPS DESCRIPTION READING -- I SHIT YOU NOT -- "BAKUGOU REALLY JUST DIED!!! THIS CHANGES EVERYTHING!"

seriously though. that is word-for-word verbatim what it said. the internet literally got right up in my face and said "OHOHO!! LOOKS LIKE SOMEBODY FORGOT TO DELETE LITERALLY ONE SINGLE MHA-RELATED VIDEO FROM THEIR WATCH HISTORY! TIME TO DESTROY HALF A YEAR'S WORTH OF PAINSTAKINGLY DILIGENT SPOILER AVOIDANCE IN ONE EARTH-SHATTERING BLOW!" and just like that, my miraculous fate-tempting seven month spoiler-free streak came to an end. the sequel to blah blah SIXQUIRKS. something something BAKUGOU DIED. JUST THOUGHT WE'D SHARE THAT LITTLE UPDATE WITH YOU. HAVE A GOOD ONE, AND DRIVE SAFE!

so naturally my first reaction was basically just. looooooool :) :) :) what the fuck.

here I am. a working mom. who left her seventeen-year-old fictional son in the care of a 36-year-old Japanese man for the better part of a year because HE SAID he would take good care of him. Jump Festa 2022!! quote unquote!! "I’ve said this to Okamoto [Nobuhiko]-kun in LINE, but Katsuki will be having his greatest scene in the manga in future developments. I hope people who like Katsuki and hate Katsuki will look forward to it." bruh. we have the receipts right here! "greatest scene," he said! oh, goody, I said! something to look forward to when I finally have the time to catch up! "yes," Horikoshi smiles evilly. "something to look forward to, indeed." this fucking guy. can you even believe.

and just to be clear, when I say that I was otherwise 100% not-spoiled up until this point, I mean it. one hundred percent. I had absolutely ZERO knowledge of anything past chapter 339. the last I saw of Bakugou, he was hanging out with the rest his class showing off his cool new moves to Deku and being blindsided by Aoyama's betrayal and stuff. then bam. seven months later, fate mails me a postcard of him lying on the ground with a bloody hole in his chest. like WOW, OKAY. ZERO CHILL. OF COURSE THIS WOULD HAPPEN THE ONE TIME I DECIDE TO GO ON HIATUS FOR TWO HUNDRED DAYS, SMDH.

anyway so that's my story.

3. "so exactly how spoiled are you?"

lol I'm not even sure. I guess my best answer would be, "SOMEWHAT?"

or, if you don't mind reading more words, I can tell you exactly how spoiled I am by summarizing the Things That I Do Know in a bullet list.

THINGS THAT I KNOW

all of this apparently takes place between chapters 359 and 362, with 362 being the big "oh he DEAD dead" chapter. I think. based on all the fics that have since cropped up on AO3 with ominous chapter 362 spoiler tags.

I am pretty sure Bakugou was fighting either Tomura or AFO when it happened.

I have this vague idea that somehow his heart exploded or something?? like I don't really know the details, but that's what I've been able to glean.

apparently Jeanist and Edgeshot were involved in some sort of effort to save him?? but apparently that didn't work out too well I guess. OR DID IT? I actually do not know.

I have the vague impression Edgeshot may have also died, somehow, as a result of those heroic efforts. OR DID HE? again, I actually do not know at all. this is basically the knowledge equivalent of me overhearing half of a phone conversation between two people who were trying to recollect half of a phone conversation that they in turn overheard, several months earlier.

lastly, I know that Bakugou was apparently carrying around his All Might trading card from waaaay back in his chapter 118 flashbacks, in his pocket or something. because he's a giant fanboy nerd. who wanted All Might to sign it. but was too shy to ask I guess. "WHO COULD HAVE SEEN THIS SENSITIVE SIDE OF HIM COMING?? BAKUGOU CARES ABOUT THINGS??? HE REALLY DID LOOK UP TO ALL MIGHT JUST AS MUCH AS DEKU THE ENTIRE TIME??? WHAT A DEVASTATING REVEAL?!?" is how we were supposed to react to this, I'm guessing, lol. but I'll have you know that SOME of us have already written approximately 1200 essays on how much of a secretly sensitive All Might weeb Bakugou is, and so WERE ACTUALLY NOT SURPRISED AT ALL! yeah that's right! TAKE THAT HORIKOSHI. TRYING TO CATCH ME OFF GUARD AND MAKE ME CRY. WELL YOU WASTED YOUR GODDAMN TIME, because I would have cried anyway! and I did cry! and I will cry again!

anyway so yeah. and I think the card got blown up and/or otherwise destroyed somehow, just to add insult to injury. which, don't tell anyone, but between you and me, I'm not sure what he expected. "let me just take my precious limited edition All Might trading card, my most prized possession, along with me into the intense final battle with the final villain. for good luck or whatever. there's no way this could possibly end badly." did he even bother to put it in a zipper pocket. wtf were you thinking Katsuki. again I do not actually have the slightest idea since I have not actually read this chapter lol.

anyway! so that's everything I know! and let me just add to that a quick summary of things which I in turn do NOT know, the short version of which is: Literally Everything Other Than What I Just Typed Above. including but not limited to:

whether Bakugou actually was fighting Tomura, or AFO, or both. ??

who was fighting with him (except that for some reason or another Deku wasn't there, because I guess he fucked off to go do something else?? you and I fell into the exact same trap there, Deku. "surely Kacchan will be fine and dandy for the next five minutes or hours or days or however long while I go take care of this Other Important Business." yeah, you would think so, wouldn't you? BUT WE LEARNED OUR LESSON, DIDN'T WE.)

what Deku’s reaction was (but I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say: PISSED)

literally anything else about the context of this fight, including where, when, and why it took place.

literally everything else that has happened in the manga since chapter 339. for real you guys. I just have to stress again how utterly out of the blue this was for me. to read this spoiler completely without context. WHAT HAVE THESE CHILDREN BEEN DOING FOR THE PAST NINE MONTHS. I'm terrified to learn the answers lol.

anyways but moving on now to the most important section of this post, starting with the one question which I think is by far the most pressing and important, and which I can thankfully answer with a single sentence.

4. "so... do you think he actually is dead?"

no lol.

but since you insist, here is my list of Reasons Why I Don't Think Bakugou Is Actually Dead, based on my nonexistent knowledge of the events of the past 40 chapters, and the actual context and details of his death. and I guarantee there is not a single point here which has not already been discussed to death on thousands of other blogs, but dammit I've been stuck without an outlet for all these thoughts since August, so the hell with it:

so for starters, in my experience, characters whose older selves narrate the story From The Future ("in that moment, there were no thoughts in my head... my body just moved on its own") tend to be pretty immune from dying, overall. just throwing that out there.

from day one, the series has made it very clear that this is the story of how Izuku becomes "the greatest hero" (more recently retconned/updated to become a pluralized "this is the story of how we ALL became the greatest heroes").

also from day one, Katsuki's narrative arc has been set up as a (first contrasting, and then later evolving to be more complementary) parallel to Izuku's, down to them having the same goal.

as the series has progressed, that concept of "becoming the greatest hero" has been further defined as "becoming a hero who always wins no matter what, and always saves everyone no matter what."

Katsuki in particular has expanded on this idea to emphasize that the greatest heroes are the ones who save EVERYONE, no matter what. "I made a pledge! I will achieve absolute victory, every time! we're taking this 4-0, no casualties! the strong don't settle for anything less!" and more recently, "because to live up to those ideals and surpass All Might... we gotta save you, the civilians at U.A., and the people on the streets. because saving people is how we win."

therefore, any victory in which either Katsuki or Izuku dies in order to defeat AFO is not a perfect victory, and will not result in them becoming the greatest heroes.

this is also a flagship Shounen Jump manga and the spiritual successor to the Big Three, meaning this would basically be the equivalent of killing off Sasuke or Zoro or Rukia. a.k.a. not gonna happen ever lol.

on top of that, it's also Horikoshi's tribute to Western comics, particularly those produced by Marvel, a.k.a. the guys who practically invented the No One Ever Stays Dead trope.

and last (actually not last but this really is getting too long) but not least, the number one reason why Katsuki cannot and will not actually die: because AFO does not get to win. seriously. he just doesn't. he got to kill All Might's important person and be all smug and cruel about it. he killed Nana's family and was all smug and cruel about it. he's tormented generations of heroes by deliberately targeting the people they love most. and so even without me knowing the actual context or circumstances of Katsuki's supposed "death", I have no doubt that's why it happened, because that's what AFO does. and that's who Deku loves. and so of course AFO would try it, yet again. that's his fucking modus operandi

but, because he is the final villain, we know he is going to lose in the end. and so this, imo, is the biggest and simplest reason why Katsuki isn't dead: because if he is actually dead, then AFO wins. even if he himself dies in the end. he gets to go down knowing that he took a part of the hero with him. he gets to hold on to that one last triumph. even though he loses, he keeps the hero from winning and saving, and he gets to savor that.

so, since we know that he's NOT going to win, because this is a "good guys win" type of story and not an "evil prevails, sorry, it's called REAL LIFE, bitches, enjoy your tears" type of story, that means that Katsuki is not actually dead. or will not stay dead. either way. period.

anyway so yeah! that's basically the gist, though by no means are these all of my comprehensive thoughts, and I can safely promise you many more rants to come, especially as I prepare to take on the challenge of reading through 39 new BnHA chapters with the foreknowledge of my son's untimely not-death looming in the back of my mind the whole time! looking forward to that! both ironically and unironically! should be interesting to say the least lol.

so on that note, one final q&a before we conclude:

5. "is it cool to discuss other manga spoilers with you?"

I would prefer not to, mainly in the hopes of trying to preserve as much of the "pure" unspoiled liveblog experience as possible, both for myself and for anyone else who cares to actually read said liveblogs. I do already feel bad for depriving people of the experience of watching me naively frolic my way through the upcoming arc(s) all BLISSFULLY UNAWARES lol. instead you'll have to settle for watching me timidly cry my way through while yelling at every single character who blindly tempts fate with their stupid foreshadowing comments. and don't even try to tell me there won't be foreshadowing comments. I know what type of story I'm reading. and more importantly, I know exactly the type of person who's writing it. ~*~gReAtEsT sCeNe~*~. you son of a bitch. THIS ISN'T OVER, HORIKOSHI.

anyway, so basically I would prefer to be as spoiler-free as possible, same as always. but I also no longer have the time or frankly the will to police every potential spoiler out there, so at the end of the day I'm pretty much just going to leave it up to you guys! also because I figure that at this point, WHAT'S THE WORST THAT CAN HAPPEN lol. (but for real there's probably a ton of important stuff that could easily be ruined still, so yeah if you don't mind let's just try to steer clear of all that lol.)

[elmundodeflor]

This wasn't supposed to happen, he tells himself. He shouldn't be doing this, he repeats, — and it seems like it's the tenth time he's said that ever since they've left the house.

It was Connie the one who had shrunk half of the Ambassadors' suit-uniforms, anyways. Why couldn’t he be here, then, instead of him? All he wanted was to spend his day off lazing in bed. Maybe, even revisit his long-forgotten sketch-book for a new draw.

But not this.

"I was covering up for your hangover ass!", Connie had said, in his own defense. And it was true. Back in headquarters, they had equally divided the list of chores between all of them. Armin cooked on Mondays, Reiner made the beds on Tuesdays and he did the laundry on Wednesdays.

Still, it wasn't his fault that Pieck's pair of trousers looked like those of a toddler's. At least, not directly.

"Jean.", she calls him out of his train of thought. There's a suit pastel yellow dangling from the hanger between her hands. It's bundled up with a white shirt and a matching pair of pants, all too colorful to use at any diplomatic meeting. "What do you think of this?"

He furrows a brow. She can't possibly be serious, — and yet, the look on her face tells him that she totally is.

"Well...", he starts. If there's anything he's learnt during his time living with the Ambassadors, is that Pieck is never afraid of having fun with her fashion. Sometimes, he recalls, she'll wear pineapple-stamped blouses around the kitchen. Others, it'll be the neon-pink socks peaking from under her long, pleated skirts.

"I guess that'd be a great choice if we wanted to look like a duck's thrown up on us..."

She rolls her eyes at him.

"You're a boring-ass man, Kirstein."

He shrugs, and stares at her for a moment; — the triumphant smile that brightens up her features. The spider-web earrings that show through thick, black hair. It amazes him, really, how irremediably different they are. He’s all slick-shirts, shiny shoes. She’s the type to throw some sneakers underneath her dresses.

"I've been told worse.", he says. And that is true, as well.

Pieck chuckles, then puts the suit back to where she’s found it. She looks ridiculously tiny, floating around the shop in her green, wide-legged trousers. Jean knows, right as he watches her again, she’s an enigma, sure enough. A five-foot-two paradox he can’t quite figure out just yet.

He shakes his head. The boutique Armin's sent them to seems awfully empty for a week-day afternoon. There are roads of folded clothing to cover up the walls, gowns neatly placed by size and color. Normally, they'd have a tailor do this for them. But with the new peace treaties incoming, they had no other choice than to run in emergency.

He takes a grey suit from the hanger, feels the softness of it between his fingers. He remembers the first time they'd been in Marley, back when hope was intact and the world was new. It all appears to be a distant blur now; a gleaming daydream lost within the alleyways.

He’d actually worn something similar to it at the time, he figures. They’d been shopping with Levi and Hanji the week before departing, and it’d been quite the adventure. There’s part of him that finds that it’s amazing, even. People from both in and outside the Walls claimed to be so different, but would dress the exact same, in the end.

“What about this one?”, he shows Pieck, then.

She makes a face, but ends up giving him a small push, up towards the dressing rooms, after.

“Off you go!”, she says, as she takes a suit that matches his, and disappears right behind the curtains herself.

Jean can’t help but roll his eyes. If there’s any other thing he’s learnt about living with the Ambassadors, is that Pieck’s weird, — hard to read as letters craved on stone. It’s not only because of how she dresses, but also due to everything else. Truth is, she’ll make odd noises when she laughs at Reiner. Put cheese between two walnut cookies and call it a day.

“Well, didn’t I tell you we’d look killer with thi—?”

He stops himself.

Outside her dressing room, she stares back at him, — makes a little pose in front of the full-body mirror that they share. She wears a white, simple blouse, tucked inside a long, grey skirt, that she’s paired with a plain linen blazer. She’s utterly gorgeous, achingly delicate and elegant, there— standing under the stage lights.

It takes a minute or two for Jean to regain his composure.

"Meh,", she shrugs, but it’s just to poke fun at him, at last. "I'd say it's alright for someone with such a boring taste."

He bites his tongue. If a single glance could kill, then, he swears, Pieck Finger would be dead and buried. She turned out to be quite the expert at getting on his nerves, after all.

"So, how you’d make it better, huh?"

She says nothing. At least, not at first. Instead, she spins through the store and goes to the tie-section, — grabs one that's navy blue.

"Hm", she holds it up next to Jean's face. The bright spotlights cast a golden sheen in her hair. Make it seem as though her eyes are fresh dew on an early morning. "Guess this one could go."

Jean raises a brow at her, but doesn't really reply, whatsoever. She's gotten close to him now, — so much so, he can count the specs of violet that dapple in her irises. Name the tiny freckles that dot over her cheeks, and that he'd never even noticed were there before.

"You really think so?”

Pieck nods, then gets up on her tip-toes.

"Yeah", she wraps the tie around his neck, first. It's a funny image, Jean thinks, as she tries to make up a knot — her stretching up, while he has to crouch down for her to reach him. To be fair, he has to be thankful that they're the only two people in the store at the moment. "I genuinely do."

He goes back to looking at her. He can feel the warmth that oozes from her body. Sense the trickle of her fingers against his neck, his shoulders. She’s beautiful like this, — cute, even. Her hair’s a mess, her eyes are drooped and tired. But she smiles at him like she doesn’t have a care in the world. Touches him as if he was made of the thinnest glass, way too fragile for her clumsiness.

It is nothing like the first time that they saw each other, he notices. Not only because she was in her Titan form, but because he’d thought, then, that her hands could only be made for killing.

“Hold still, idiot.”, she laughs at him, and Jean straightens himself up. He sees it as fascinating— that her knuckles are all caked-up in battle-scar. Her palms are rough, baked in pink linings that turn gold under the sunset. But something soft can bloom from under them, —something tender. It’s in the way she holds him, with such care, — like he’s precious. How she tickles him in the tiny spot behind his ear, plays with him like they’re kids.

“Pieck…”, he sighs. His hand brushes a black lock off her face, — does it in a way that’s slow and delicate, as if time had stopped, right there and then. Matter-of-fact, he doesn’t even know why he’s done it, or when, — just that he felt like it. That his body acted on its own, without ever warning him of what it’d do.

She smiles at him.

“We should…”, she stutters. The bridge of her nose is flushed of a light shade of rose. Her cheeks scorching, twinkling beneath the afternoon-hours. “We should get goin’…”

Jean nods, but doesn’t pull away, at last. Pieck’s hands are on his neck, locked in around the tie, still, — his are on her hair. It’d been too long since he’d last felt like this, — as if his heart could jump, do flips inside his chest. If anything, he finds that, maybe, her palms build things back to life, as well. That they’re not only meant for destruction, but are capable of love. Of holding him like he’s broken, and they’re there to put him back together, after all.

“Guess so.”, he says, finally, after a second or two; a small smile pulling from his lips, too. “Suppose we should.”