#as a side note i do still want to have items pertaining to things i enjoy

[smile-files]

rant alert!!!!!!!!!!!

something that's been really bothering me lately is how capitalism is hardcore exploiting our generation's desire to explore/create identity

like aesthetic culture is nice on paper but in practice it just means buying a butt load of stuff that we don't need. like, say i like cottagecore, and by extension the strawberry shortcake franchise. it isn't enough for me to just say i like them aesthetically, or whatever -- i have to buy clothes and merchandise or what have you for that part of my identity to feel tangible. i need to be able to embody this aesthetic in every part of my being for it to feel real

and i've interacted with enough brand instagram accounts (such as the strawberry shortcake instagram) to know that companies are all over creating aesthetic, nostalgic nonsense to sell to us, knowing we'll buy anything cutesy that panders to us and the things we like. and we can't help but feed into it. and they act all relatable and gen-z-core too which doesn't help

consumerism drives me nuts, all the more so because i actively partake in it. i love collecting stuff, especially stuffed animals, but adding to the collection with new items involves spending money on a bunch of plastic and polyester things that take up space and will end up in a landfill someday. like, sure, i like them, and people know for sure that i love stuffed animals when they know i have over 100 of them and keep buying them, but if i'm being completely honest i don't get as much out of them as i'd like to think i do. i'm considering making a photo/drawing catalog of all of the plushies i have now and donating the ones who'd do better in a different home! the same applies to all of the toys i have as well

when i was little i used to collect rocks and sticks and pine cones... things in nature that are just as cool and give me just as much joy as my stuffed animals and toys but a) don't take up a huge amount of space b) don't cost money c) don't hurt the environment and d) don't feed into the capitalist, consumerist black hole that's quickly eating us all

honestly... and this might be a hot take... but the whole concept of "aesthetics" that's been on the internet in recent years that has compelled ourselves to shape our wardrobes and possessions in favor of a pretty, inhuman ideal that supposedly affirms our identities is likely just a project by Big Consumerism to get us to buy more stuff that we think makes us feel more like ourselves. like yeah we all deserve to have our own style and our own tastes but that should not necessitate buying 15 billion new outfits from your local target to prove to yourself or anyone else that it's your style and tastes. buying a dropshipped mushroom nightlight off of amazon does not make you any more of a cottagecore girly than someone who doesn't. we shouldn't all be trying to fool each other over instagram reels that we all perfectly fit this aesthetic with our cool clothes and knickknacks and random decorations and be constantly jealous of each other

and it all just feeds into fast fashion and non-sustainably-made products and all that... like if companies know we'd buy anything that fits our aesthetic they'll throw out any notion of making lasting goods that aren't made of plastic and garbage and the blood of innocent baby animals or whatever. we keep eating it up. and we keep buying more and more of it to create an every-expanding hoard of objects that supposedly reflect every facet of our soul

(and i know it's the companies' fault at the end of the day! but i do think we, as individuals, have to think about how we happily succumb to it!)

i'm starting to think that my happiest life would be one lived with a small handful of cool clothes (as it is, most of the clothes i find cool are old ones my aunt sends me or ones i thrift), a small handful of stuffed animals i have a genuine love for (e.g. barry, any homemade plushie), and a gargantuan collection of nature stuff like rocks and sticks and pine cones. i can't help wanting to collect -- i'm like a dragon! but what i can help is what i choose to collect, what system i choose to feed into. i have a huge love for stuffed animals, but if anything, i'm doing a disservice to them and my appreciation for them by repeatedly buying new, low quality ones which i ultimately don't care much about -- and having fewer of them by no means diminishes how much they mean to me. one should not judge a fan by the amount of merchandise they've bought, after all

we are trying to live vicariously through our stuff, which isn't surprising given the hellish socioeconomic landscape, but it only makes us languish and look at devices all day and buy useless stuff and not try to make our lives actually good. this is what capitalism wants!!! augh!!!!

also... folks can't buy sustainable stuff because it often costs more and is less widely sold. but whose fault is that? capitalism!!!!! they could make wool cheaper than polyester for all they cared!!!!!!! they could get rid of money altogether!!!!!!!!!!!!!

i don't really know what i want to say in all of this... but i care about nature and i care about being genuinely happy and digging my own grave in an aesthetic landfill does nothing for that

[aviiarie]

TO YOUR DEFENSE — chiori x fem!reader !

synopsis. chiori's partner is disrespected, and there isn't a chance she is letting it slide. warnings. n/a notes. established relationship. fem!reader. 1k words. i love her. so much. dedicated to @tragedy-of-commons who i brainrotted with about this idea <3

Chiori is by no means a soft woman. Of course, she is perfectly capable of it when the right situation calls for it. And when the situation pertains to you—her cherished lover—she can deign to spare a measured amount of gentleness for your sake, but only a fool would mistake that for weakness.

Her newest client—a bald, bespectacled man interested in a new tailored suit and little else—seems to be exactly that: a fool.

“Apologize. Now.” Chiori’s tone is as sharp and cutting as the blade of her sword, making the man visibly shiver.

“I-I didn’t—Mademoiselle Chiori!” He stumbles over his words, losing any semblance of composure that he entered the store with. There was none of the bravado he held earlier, none of the confidence that had earned him her fury in the first place. “I didn’t mean anything by it, I-I simply—”

“Simply what?” Chiori’s eyes narrow, her face darkening further. “You simply thought it was appropriate to treat my partner with such blatant disrespect right in front of my eyes? You simply decided she was a sales assistant, and assumed that made it acceptable to order her around? You simply chose to tell her to make herself useful, and get you a tie in a different colour?”

The man flinches as his words are spat back at him, stuttering and stammering to try and pull together some sort of defence. It is a feeble attempt, and one that is quickly shut down.

“Quiet.” Chiori says harshly, cutting off the rest of his spluttering. “You will be quiet, and you will listen to what I have to say. Am I understood?”

The man nodded jerkily, looking like a skittish animal. The sight was rather pathetic, he was a foot taller than her and almost twice her size, but he still cowered at her piercing gaze.

“Not only have you falsely assumed that my partner—who has so graciously offered to assist me today, when you chose to delay your fitting appointment until an hour before closing—was a mere sales assistant, instead of politely requesting she retrieve an item for you, you decided to snap at her.”

Chiori took a pause, studying the man’s expression. It was almost laughable how much a grown man could so closely resemble a kicked puppy; perhaps she would have found humour in the sight, had she not been seething from head to toe with a burning anger.

“Treating my boutique like you can come and go as you please is one thing. But treating my lover like she is a worthless, lowly servant is something else. You have not just crossed the line; you have trampled all over it in those hideous dress shoes of yours. How dare you carry yourself with such arrogance, when you do not have even the common decency to speak to others with even a shred of politeness? You are not only an impolite, bad-tempered man, but a cowardly one at that.”

With every word, his head bows lower. It’s hard to tell if the action was out of genuine remorse, or shame that he was being scolded like a misbehaving schoolboy, but judging by his actions, Chiori could safely assume it was the latter.

“You—” Her eyes drift over to the side where you stood at the side of the store, watching the scene play out with an uncomfortable expression. If she were dealing with a disrespectful customer alone, she would not have hesitated to tear into him even further until he was a shivering mess of apologies at her feet, but the way you looked like you wanted to be anywhere else made her pause.

Even if she was defending you, your comfort was her priority. She bit back the insult on her lips, forcing her words to change their course.

“—You are going to apologize to my partner. Then, you are going to leave this store, and never return. You are not welcome at Chioriya Boutique anymore, and you will be blacklisted for life. I do not ever want to see your pathetic face again, but if I hear that you are treating any other sales worker the way you treated my partner today…”

Chiori didn’t finish her sentence, but the threat was clear. It hung in the air between them, causing the man to turn pale.

“O-Of course. I sincerely apologize, Mademoiselle—” The man turned to you, clasping his hands together. “I am truly sorry!”

“Go.” Chiori’s face twists in disgust. She steps away from the man, looking him up and down like he was nothing more than dirt beneath her shoe. “And do not come back.”

“Y-Yes, of course…” He bobs his head in a nod, face still struck with fear. He backs out of the boutique, as fast as his legs could take him.

Once he is out of sight, the anger melts off Chiori like snow falling from a roof. She turns to properly face you, her hand moving up to gently cup your cheek. “Apologies, that wasn’t something you should have had to witness. Are you alright, my love?”

You nod slowly, leaning into her hand. “I’m fine…”

She clicks her tongue. Her hand moves down your cheek, sliding all the way down your shoulder to rest on your waist. “Don’t lie to me. You look shaken.”

“I’m fine, really.” You insist, forcing a small smile. “Thank you… for defending my honour.”

Chiori’s face softens. She uses her hand at your waist to pull you closer until you were almost flush against her chest, placing a chaste kiss on your cheek. “It is no problem, darling. Some people just don’t seem to understand manners until they are beaten over the head with them.”

You laugh lightly, and the sound is like a melody to her ears. She hums, pulling herself out of the embrace long enough to flick the open sign to closed.

“Let’s go home, love.” Chiori pulls your hands to her lips, pressing a kiss to each of the knuckles. “Let’s forget all about what happened.”

© aviiarie 2024. do not copy, repost, translate or use my work to train ai

[ethernetmeep]

a series of words i wrote which isn’t actually an introspective rant and more like a diary entry about my day than anything

small cafeteria with a campus bookstore inside… flags of different countries, rainbow flag. iron bar like ceilings in one building & pristine tile ceiling in another. stained glass windows. the lecture area was beautiful… there were seats and retractable little tables …. desks? writing areas? in each seat. there were seats on the side near windows. snow on the ground & rain in the air & atmosphere… it was beautiful, truly. wouldn’t mind going to a college with a campus like this.

still, it was overwhelming with the lectures— couldn’t hear much of anyone or anything. small booths that were set up were better.. liked one in particular that had tons of species of marine animals on pamphlets. many people have also overlooked me; tried complimenting someones hoodie twice and they weren’t able to hear me. went to ask many questions only to be ignored. its alright, obviously— just observations. saw a boy who looked very nice & a person who i found myself bashful to be around. they seem neat… alas, i will never speak to them again. got to hold a small jar of copepods & krill & got to feel a whales baleen.. truly radiant! also got to hold a few shells and do some little games or so.. was fun.

there’s still more to see, more to do. i wonder if my absence has been noticed… probably not. if so, only vaguely. food here was mediocre but i also don’t eat lunch often so it doesn’t truly matter. (wrote the previous words as i was still on the trip; following are now from after.) after eating said lunch, moved to another building on campus and looked at more booths. was interested in a booth which pertained to interacting with live animals and cephalopods as per parts of the job; signed my name on a list to learn more about their internship program. sounds fascinating… got to touch another whales baleen, separate from the first. got many stickers & pamphlets. our trip got cut short because some people had track meets; in the end, it was still most certainly worth it. showed my friend the pamphlets & items i got, giddy with excitement. Also told my friend a fact that made him flabbergasted.. yeah, me too.

now i’m home, laying in a bed and pondering several things to do… i wish to read the left hand of darkness a bit more; started it earlier and wanted to read it on the bus to the college but it was too loud on there for me to do so comfortably. i look at the watch on my wrist & am incredibly giddy; IT GOT HERE EARLY! found it on my front step while i was walking home from my bus stop. ive never had a watch before, so this is my first one… a funky one, at that! i believe i accidentally made it a few seconds slower/faster (not actually sure which) than the actual time, by about 10 seconds give or take. this irritates me slightly but its also too small for it to cause anything world-ending unless we’re trying to spiral into a science tangent. regardless, i’ll fix it soon.

as a last sentence or so, i will say i wished deeply last night to have my dreams that followed my conscious state be disorganized & not include a particular subject as it was quite awkward to experience. suffice to say, said subject occurred in both dreams; one i had before my alarm rang at regular time, and another dream i had as i fell back asleep following a two hour delay. jarring. as for the details of both dreams, they’re quite vague as when i awoke i didn’t really write anything down… either way, i’ll try:

in the first one, i was wearing the shirt i planned last night to wear today. was wearing this & just.. took it off, gave it to someone, and that’s all i remember. will note i had other fabric on underneath said shirt just because saying this on its own sounds inappropriate.

as to why this formed in my subconscious, i think its because i was worried whether or not to wear the shirt last night / plan to wear it the following day because i still saw the subject as something i wasn’t really allowed to enjoy…. i wish i could articulate just how annoying this is to endure, both being aware this train of thought is idiotic but also still having it as its one which has been hardwired into my brain. still trying to unlearn it. if all else fails, i’ll remember to be loved is to be changed & its okay to not be the same person you used to be & that its okay to like new things…

in the second, i seemed to be outside; leaves were scattered across the ground and i was near the field, i think. a boy i didn’t know (as he was fabricated for the dream— this happens quite often) had come up with an idea to solidify water and try to sell it as currency.. weirdly enough, when it solidified it didn’t actually look like ice or anything; was an odd mustard yellow ish hue. how would water solidify if it wasn’t frozen…. this idea was ludicrous & overtly stupid, but i followed along with it. remember sitting underneath a tree with my switch sitting off to the side when a boy sitting beside me sneezed… this isn’t really important, i just remembered the detail. don’t remember much else besides boarding the same bus and getting dropped off at the same stop, albeit i walked much farther to my house. hm.

theres.. no real reason why the second dream formed that way, besides the argument i was worried whether buses would be sent out or not following the delay in my waking state between both dreams. as for the water as currency, i believe that had to do with the fact i had read dune last night & remembered how valuable water was on arrakis.

i, uh… should start doing something important. yup.

[subspencer]

the to-do list

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader

Summary: Reader is worried that she’s not adventurous enough in bed. So, she makes a secret checklist of things to try with Spencer. Based on this request.

Category: Smut, 18+ ONLY, minors dni

Warnings/Includes: switch!Spencer, (sort of?) corruption kink, exhibitionism, mile high club, brief description of oral, unprotected sex, creampie, brief mentions of other stuff but no descriptions

Word Count: 3k

Spencer’s girlfriend has a secret checklist. It could be called a bucket list, of some sort, but really all of the items on it pertain to sexual acts to perform with Spencer, on Spencer, or in front of Spencer. So checklist is a more appropriate term.

The list came into existence after a girl’s night game of Never Have I Ever, in which she discovered there was an embarrassing number of things she’d never done. Some of them seemed nearly impossible to have gone twenty-something years without doing, especially when in a committed relationship. That was made abundantly clear to her when the girls pointed it out, teasing her — and by association, Spencer — for being more than vanilla.

There was no real reason she hadn’t tried those certain things — she wasn’t adverse to the idea of most of them at all. Really, it was just that she never bothered to dip her toes beyond what was familiar.

When Emily, Penelope, and Tara had nearly all ten of their fingers down after a couple rounds, she finally realized she might’ve been coming up short in the sex department. She figured it was about time to find out what she’s missing, so she made a list of everything she needed to try. And one by one, she and Spencer checked the items off.

One of the more simple things on the list, and perhaps her favorite, was giving her first blowjob. It wasn’t something she felt compelled to try with any of the guys she’s been with before, and Spencer, though he was very curious about it, was too much of a gentleman to ask for one.

So when she asked him to sit on the edge of his bed and dropped to her knees in front of him, he didn’t stop to ask questions. His mind went blank the second her fingers undid his zipper. It was Spencer’s first, too, and his fingers knotted in her hair as she took him in as deep as she could, hollowing her cheeks around his cock and swirling her tongue as her head bobbed up and down. Spencer always made pretty sounds in bed, but in this instance she envied his memory because she wished she could replay his moans and gasps from that first blowjob all over again in her mind.

Another favorite was allowing the favor to be reciprocated until completion. She figured she might just be someone who couldn’t get off from oral, because though she always welcomed Spencer to go down, she got impatient every time and pulled his head up by his hair, demanding him to fuck her already. Spencer was one to oblige every request, but he couldn’t pretend that he wasn’t overjoyed when one time she never stopped him short.

There were no interruptions, no hands shoving his face away from its rightful place against her, just increasing moans and shaking legs as Spencer was encouraged to give more. She can still remember the half-moon shapes his nails left on her thighs from where he had to grip them so tightly as she rode out her high. And she definitely remembers the almost feral look in his eyes after, because since that first time he insists on doing it again nearly every day.

There were more or less a dozen other items that slowly but surely got ticked off the list.

Handcuffs in the bedroom — fun, but perhaps better saved for special occasions. Or if Spencer was being extra good and deserved a treat.

Various new positions — a reminder to stretch more. And that sixty-nine is not as easy as it sounds on paper.

She let Spencer put a blindfold on her — it was decided they both prefer it more when the blindfold is on him. It keeps him guessing.

Spanking — both of them like this one, either giving or receiving. Surprisingly, she thinks she might like receiving it a little more, and Spencer is always excited to give.

Shower sex — a bit of a logistical nightmare, yet still a weekly staple. It’s slippery, yes, but it’s also relaxing and intimate. And Spencer just enjoys putting his hands on her wet, soapy body.

Sending dirty texts — great, but Spencer prefers taking nude polaroids of her instead. He keeps a few in his wallet for easy access. And because he knows Garcia can’t hack his wallet and find them.

And there were more items that went in the same tune until there was just one left. The one she was most nervous to attempt.

She wondered if joining the mile high club was better or worse if it was on the BAU jet. They’d have ample opportunities to do it, but they’d also be surrounded by their colleagues, and there is no coming back from getting caught.

But the main challenge was convincing Spencer to do it in the first place.

The initial plan of attack was to drop some “subtle” hints. She brought it up for the first time one night in their shared hotel room, right after Spencer fucked her against the bathroom counter, her legs wrapped around his waist.

“We could totally do that in the jet bathroom.”

“Yeah, I guess the basics are the same. Cramped space and a ledge to lean on.” Spencer was completely aloof as he picked up the scattered articles of clothing from the floor, rattling off about the size and dimensions of the airplane bathroom and missing the entire point of the comment.

She mentioned it again a little later, hoping the repetition may help him catch the drift.

“What’s the craziest place you’ve had sex?” she asked, completely catching him off guard as he ate a breakfast of frosted flakes in his kitchen.

“Um.. I don’t know? You tell me,” he shrugged, knowing that whatever the craziest place was, it was definitely with her.

“What about doing it on the jet?” It couldn’t get more obvious.

“We haven’t done that, silly. OH! I’m gonna say it was in my car,” he nodded with a wide grin, confident in his answer that unfortunately brushed past the proposition far too quickly.

It was time to change methods.

The new plan was to see if she could get him turned on enough on the jet to motivate him to do something about it right then and there. It seemed easy enough.

She sat next to him on the small couch, as she always did, and cuddled up to his side as he read his book.

Once everyone was distracted, she snaked a hand onto his thigh, allowing it to rest there long enough for Spencer to get over his initial shock and relax into her touch. As soon as he let his guard down, she moved her hand up another inch or two, watching him squirm again as he fought his mind from wandering. She repeated that cycle every five minutes until it drove him insane, his willpower diminishing in tandem with the proximity of her hand.

When everyone finally fell asleep, she craned her head to press small kisses on his neck, alternating between quick pecks and lingering ones, sucking warm and wet little flecks onto his skin that drew soft sighs without fail.

“What are you doing?” his breath was raspy and low as he muttered into her ear.

“Nothing.” She kept her tone innocent and sweet as she continued to sprinkle the teasing kisses across the column of his throat.

Her hand finally found its way directly on top of the bulge straining against his slacks and gave it a gentle squeeze. Spencer grinded himself into her palm, desperate to feel some friction, his jaw slacked and pupils wide. She dragged a thumb across his length, stopping to rub slow circles over the sensitive tip, drawing out a wet spot at the front of his trousers.

But even with his skin flushed red and his cock leaking and half-near orgasm, Spencer still found the restraint to stop her from jerking him off right on the jet and ripped her hand away, placing it in her lap as if the action could permanently force her to keep her hands to herself.

“I can’t go to the crime scene with cum in my pants,” he hissed, squeezing her wrist tighter.

She smirked at the opportunity, wrapping her warm lips around his ear lobe and tugging with her teeth before whispering with hot breath. “Then put it in me.”

For a second she saw him consider it. His eyes had a dark cast, gaze flickering between her eyes and lips as he swallowed the thick lump in his throat. But then Emily woke up and it was yet another failed attempt.

She resigned to the fact that it just wouldn’t happen, and that the item might remain unchecked on the secret list. So she cleared the idea from her mind, not wanting to keep pushing Spencer toward something he clearly didn’t have an interest in, or to keep embarrassing herself by trying.

And then a couple weeks later, as the team wrapped another case up, she came back to their hotel room to find Spencer sitting on the bed, facing away from the door.

“Hey, baby,” she greeted. When Spencer didn’t respond, she crawled onto the bed behind him, placing both hands on his shoulders and attacking the side of his face with kisses, giggling into his messy curls. “I said hey.”

Still nothing. Her eyes followed his line of sight down to his hands and went wide with realization.

“Spencer, where did you get that!?” She tried to snatch the crumpled piece of paper from him, but he was too quick to pull it away.

“I was looking for gum in your purse,” he explained, reading the sheet over again in complete amusement, “but I found something better.”

Spencer was much too excited about it, bordering on smug, and she rolled off the bed away from him in annoyance.

“Is this what I think it is?” She remained silent, suddenly feeling very insecure about the note. “Did you... did you make a list of things to do in bed?”

“You weren’t supposed to see that, it’s so stupid.”

“Hey, who said it’s stupid?” He tugged on her fingers, pulling her back onto the bed next to him. “I just wanna know where it came from.”

“Well... when I went out with the girls, we started talking about all the things we’ve done…” she paused to see if Spencer could guess where this was going, and of course he didn’t, “... in bed. And I hadn’t even done half of what they have, so I wrote some of them down. I — I wanted to try them with you.”

“So you… you’ve never done these with anyone else?” Spencer’s eyes widened as he pieced the puzzle together. He looked down again at the discarded sheet laying on pillows, his pride swelling at how long the list was. “I’m the first?”

She nodded in assent and no sooner was Spencer pushing her back flat against the mattress, settling his body on top of hers.

“God, that’s so hot,” he spoke into her neck as he sucked purple bruises into it, allowing his hands to roam freely under her shirt. His nimble fingers made quick work of her bra clasp, pulling the hem of the top up to attach his lips to her exposed nipple. He rolled the other in his fingers, tugging gently as she arched into his touch, rolling her hips up to grind against his. He groaned and pushed back, nestling himself perfectly between her legs.

Suddenly his motions halted and he popped his head up, looking at her with wide eyes and freshly ruffled hair. “We haven’t finished the list yet!”

“I — I didn’t think you were interested in the last one.”

“If my girlfriend makes a list of ways she wants to fuck me, I’m interested.”

A devilish grin took over her face. “Well, we fly home tomorrow.”

And true to the plan, they arrived on the jet the next day with at least a vague sense of strategy: wait until everyone is asleep then go at it in the bathroom. It wasn’t the most elaborate of plans, but there wasn’t much else to think of.

Except for the possibility that the others might not go to sleep.

The flight was already halfway through its journey and everyone was still wide awake, and Spencer was growing incredibly impatient. Perhaps even more than his girlfriend, now that he knew this would be part of a long list of things he got to be her first for.

That fact seemed to encourage him, the thrill of forever being her first at something. Never mind that she’d be his firsts, too.

Spencer’s not stupid, he knows that bending her over the bathroom counter while everyone is awake to hear it is a horrible idea. But his willpower doesn’t extend far enough to stop him from dropping his hand to her exposed knee, rubbing it softly just to be able to touch her. It seemed innocent enough in case anyone might see.

He kept his eyes on the open book he was pretending to read as his fingers traced the inside of her thigh, pushing up the hem of her skirt ever so slightly.

He inched his hand up and slowly spread his long fingers apart until they covered the length of her inner thigh. The tips stopping just below her cunt, delicately tracing lines back and forth parallel to the seam of her underwear.

And she quickly discovers there’s no taste worse than your own medicine. There was gentle brushes and concealed touches, all the things that she did to him. But where Spencer would’ve stopped her teasing before it got too far, she wouldn’t have done the same.

She covered up his hands by bringing her own down to her lap, silently encouraging him to continue unseen.

Spencer looked down at her through his thick lashes, bottom lip stuck between his teeth. Looking for more confirmation that she wanted this. The answer came in the form of her shifting subtly down the seat, pressing her clothed pussy firmly against his hand.

His cock twitched against the confines of his slacks when he felt the damp patch on the fabric. His knuckles brushed against her clit and her knees clamped shut, holding him in place as she brought her lips close to his ear to let him hear her soft whines.

He has to put his book over his lap to cover how hard he is, and it almost makes him regret starting this game. Almost.

Because just as she starts desperately grinding against his hand, squirming for more friction, he notices that everyone’s asleep. And then it’s a race to the bathroom, Spencer positioning her directly in front of him to cover his bulge as they stand up.

Their mouths are on each other before the door even closes, her hands wasting little time in going for his zipper. Both desperate to have each other after all the anticipation. She immediately perched herself on the countertop, spreading her legs wide so Spencer could fit in between them, just like in that hotel room. A confused whine fell from her mouth when he lifted her off from the ledge, interrupting her plan.

“No. Like this,” he growled, turning her around and pushing her hips against the edge of the counter, bending her over it. She muttered a “Fuck,” under her breath as he pressed his cock against her backside, knowing he preferred this angle because he could get deeper.

His lips trailed down her neck as he tugged the skirt up to her hips and pulled her panties to the side, running his cock along her folds to gather the wetness that had been pooling there.

“Shit, you’re so fucking wet.”

He quickly inserted his thumb into her mouth to stop any sounds from escaping before lining himself up. Her moans vibrated against the digit as he slowly pushed in, stretching her out and letting her adjust before starting to move. Slowly and deliberately, at first, then quickly gaining speed.

She pushed her hips back to meet his thrusts until he pinned them against the ledge with his own, holding them still so he could set his pace faster.

The hand that was resting on her waist came up to her chest, groping at the flesh over her blouse. Her spine arched into his palm, bending forward to give him more leverage to get deeper to that spot inside her repeatedly.

He alternated between a few quick thrusts followed by a deep one, holding himself there for a moment before repeating.

Her cunt tightened around him as he held still against her, applying firm pressure to her spot with the head of his cock.

“Fuck, do that again, please,” he grunted against her neck, pushing his hips into her ass with bruising force to get impossibly closer. A loud whine nearly escaped her lips as he did so, the motion sending her over the edge.

She sucked harder around his thumb, using it to keep her cries at bay as she reached her climax. Her walls fluttered around him as she did, giving him exactly what he needed.

“Remember what you said before, baby?” he hummed in her ear, “Do you still want me to cum inside you?”

“Please.”

Immediately his thrusts became erratic, hips snapping forward a handful of times before he spilled into her in hot spurts, biting down on her shoulder to stifle his moan as he came.

Still heaving from the comedown, he pulled her panties back on, using the fabric to keep his cum from spilling out.

She turned to feverishly attach her lips to his, panting into the open mouthed kiss. When they finally broke apart, both looked completely wrecked with swollen lips, flushed skin, bruised necks. Still, they tried their best to fix themselves, straightening out their rustled clothes and smoothing knotted hair.

Before Spencer turned the door handle, he pulled her side into him, pressing a kiss onto her forehead. “We should make another list.”

.

.

.

taglist: @suburban--gothic @ssa-sarahsunshine @mercy-burning @reidspurple @mediocre-writer @honeyboysteezy @ssa-m-187 @calm-and-doctor @drayshadow @s1utformgg @you-sunshine @altsvu @reidtheprettyboy @goose-eats-god @sonnydoesrandomshit @rigatonireid @muffin-cup @amoeebaa @reidingmelodies

[bisexual-horror-fan]

Stu Macher Sugar Daddy AU Headcannons.

So back when I did Kinky December, to close out that super fun event, I wrote this, fun little peice, an AU story about an older Stu Macher being your sugar daddy and it was on my mind and figured fuck it, why not do a personal headcannon post for this AU? If you like this and got any additions or ideas, have it, shoot me an ask or something! I like to think in this AU Stu has some big job he got via family connections in the financial district in New York and also while he and Billy have some certain tastes, they never indulged fully but that is part of where you come in! So let's get into it under the cut.

This is a sex worker positive space and sex work is valid work, if you don't think so, move on.

Rating: NSFW. Length: 1.5K. Warnings: Daddy Kink. General Poly!Ghostface Fuckery.

-Stu and you start this with the explicit implication of what your relationship was meant to be. He found you through the site you advertise yourself through for sugaring. The usual protocol followed after that. A date to determine how compatible you both were and you were both kind of surprised by how well you got along on that first date.

-You both obviously wanted to see each other again and so after discussing the usual things, expectations, wants, needs, allowance, and so the arrangement began officially.

-Neither of you expected how quickly it would escalate or how well you would truly get along. You and Stu got on like a house on fire. Conversation was lively and frequent, he was true to his word and gave even more than initially promised. Money was seemingly no object, he would pick up the tab without question, and would surprise you frequently.

-You dropped your other regular dates shortly after that. He didn’t ask you to but it was something you wanted to do, simply wanted to spend as much time as possible with him and be available whenever he needed and money wasn’t an issue at all anymore.

-It wasn’t just a business relationship anymore, developed into more than that and you couldn’t be happier about it.

-Yes you do call him Daddy, but not explicitly in public a lot of the time, something he asks, but it makes the times he TELLS you to call him it in public that much hotter. He calls you tons of pet names and you love it.

-He takes the title seriously. He actually CARES for you. It is about a hell of a lot more than just the sexual angle.

-You would stay over at Stu’s constantly, loved his place and he loved to have you around. He still insisted that you have your own place, paid for by him of course, he would even come by on occasion but much preferred to go out or have you over at his place. He liked you having your own space in case you ever needed it and didn’t want to intrude on YOUR space, even tho it was intruding at all.

-He loves to bring you to work events and show you off. Not just how you look and how well you are dressed and the finery he buys for you to trot you out in but also with the intelligent and insightful things you have to say and contribute. He also may or may not have given you pointers on shit pertaining to the business he was in prior to the event to make you look even better than you already were. You had done the going to work functions thing in your line of work a lot and were no slouch and it was something else that made this set up all the better.

-What is your poison because my God Stu is gonna be giving you it so much. You a fan of high end coffee? Yup you can count on him bringing you one or asking you out for coffee, dropping one off or sending someone over with one or hell getting an expensive and personal machine installed in your kitchen. You like getting your nails done? Well fuck how much babe, let him flash some cash and let you go get the most crazy nails your heart desires. You a foodie or a total lush? Lucky you! He loved going out to eat and for drinks. Or do you have a total shoe fetish? You getting any and all pairs of shoes you have ever even remotely laid your eyes on with even mildly passing interest. Clothes too duh, he loves to dress you up.

-So what interests you? Because Stu is interested in it now as well. He could listen to you go on about what was important to you for literal hours and you better believe he uses every little bit of info to better spoil you! While he loved to get you the more obvious things, food, clothes, money, basic luxuries you better believe he would get you items especially tailored to your hobbies and likes.

-Any place you ever wanted to travel too? Oh what a wild coincidence! All of a sudden a beautifully planned and paid for trip that Stu just HAPPENS to have tickets as well as his scheduled opening up all MAGICALLY coincides and you have the best time.

-The sex is insane. I mean duh, of fucking course, that happened early and often and was a big factor in determining your compatibility. He loved to spoil you in that way too, lingerie and toys and lavishing you with attention. My God he sure liked to use that mouth of his for more than just talking.

-He loves semi-public stuff. Loves pushing boundaries too. He adores going out for dinner with you looking just so dressed up and gorgeous and not being able to wait to get back to his place and fucking you in the back of the towncar on the way home.

-Having you suck him off under his desk at work on a lunch break.

-Having you ON that desk after hours.

-Fucking you on literally every surface of his apartment.

-So it doesn’t stay just Stu, you know that right? Once he is sure that you are an amazing fit he introduces you to Billy. Tells you that they have been friends for-fucking-ever and that you both liking eachother was important to him.

-You get along great with him too. You loved to see how they were together, he brought out this side in Stu that was so fun, not like he wasn’t fun usually but it was just kinda different, more playful you could say.

-You realize that you are introduced to Billy for more than just friendship.

-You are not opposed to this at all. You ask if they have done this before and the answer is yes. Sharing partners? Yep. Just them being together? Yes. Swapping? Naturally. Billy was hot and fun and treated you well too and again, the sex was fuckin’ good.

-So when the three of you were fully into the swing of this arrangement it was really fucking good. Plus you were literally never lonely. Some dates were just Stu and some were both and if Stu ever had to go out of town for some reason and you couldn’t come, well then Billy got you all to himself.

-He would insist that you stay at his place during those times to- “Properly keep an eye on you.” and you did not complain. Nights in with take-out that ended with you both on the couch or the mornings you’d share a shower before he had work or coming to his office all dressed up with lunch to impress his co-workers and maybe give him some head under his desk just like you do for Stu, all amazing.

His place was nice and you loved getting to have some time with just him, it was a great change of pace and Stu would love to come back to see you two being even closer.

-Stu coming back was so good too because of how he treated you when he missed you, a big date was a must after he was away and the way he fucked you after was specatular. The way he would whisper to you, asking about what you did this week and wanting to be filled in on all the dirty details of what you did with his best friend while he was away. You were all too happy to fill him in.

-Billy and Stu have some particular tastes. They suggest a weekend away, they have a game they want to play with you and you tentatively agree. You trust them both with your life and when you worded it that way the look they shared with a smirk should have been telling.

-A big rented beach house, a phone call, a “break in”, ropes and knives and costumes and more and oh my fucking God you got it. You understood it and were hooked and when it was all said and done and the ropes were being untied and you were still coming down with stars in your eyes and them praising the literal fuck out of you that they let it slip how often they had fantasized about this. That part of why they picked you, because Billy had been a bit more involved in the process of selecting you than you were initially made aware of, was how good they thought you would look being fucked by knifepoint.

-By what a-"pretty little victim you’d make” and well you knew you would be doing this again sometime. And it becomes a semi-regular occurrence in your sex lives.

-You spoil Stu in all kinds of ways. You surprise him with meals he loves, surprise visits when he is working, dropping in with the sweetest gifts, you try to remember all the little things he likes and love to listen to him. He knows he is in deep when you are traveling somewhere together the next day, a vacation, he works that day, comes back to his apartment to find you packed for him. You paid such close attention to detail and he felt so seen and appreciated.

-You do all the little things. Making breakfast the way he likes when you stay over, keeping in mind which clothes and lingerie he likes on you best, making notes when he particularly likes something you do or a color you wear.

-You still have your own life outside of your relationship. Friends and freedom, independence and it is all fucking great.

[artxyra]

What if Damian and the miraculous class are friends and they have movie nights, but since Damian is in Gotham he sneaks out of the manor and portal via Max & Kalki to participate. The Fam get suspicious and try to figure out where Damian is going every week. When they find out he goes to Paris they try to follow him but the portal closes and they use the tubes instead. They end up crashing in on them watching a horror movie which freaks the class out. Insert yelling and things being thrown.

To: Demon From: Angel

Are we still on for movie night?

To: Angel From: Demon

Yes. Just need to get away from the family.

To: Demon From: Angel

😀

Marinette looks over smiling from her phone. Today is a good day. There were no akuma that needed Ladybug’s attention, nor had she broken up a fight between Max and Kim about the latest game. So yes, she was ecstatic to know this is how her day is going.

“Hey Mars, is Damian coming tonight?” Adrien asks seating next to her playing with a strand of his hair. Ever since he came out to her, their relationship has blossomed beyond a crush to a blooming brother-sister relationship. That and Luka were more than willing to take on the blonde without a second thought. She kind of feels bad for Juleka having to see Adrien on a near-daily basis and with her brother no doubt.

“Yup,” Marinette continues to smile, “I just received word that he’s good to go. All we need is for Kaalki and Max to open up a portal at the designated time.”

“Sweet, I hear that Kim was the one picking out this week’s movie. I hope it’s nothing horror-related.” Adrien pouts causing Marinette to laugh that the poor kitty’s face.

“I’m sure it’s nothing too crazy.” Marinette hopes that it was something simple to follow and an action pack rather than horror. She may love horror games but kwami be damn if she watches a horror movie in the dark that wasn’t comedic.

“It looks like break is almost over, we’ll continue you this later.” Adrien sends Marinette a comforting smile before jumping down into his assigned seat next to Nino. Alya and Nino just walked in holding hands.

“Hey, lovebirds, who’s ready for a night full of fun?” Alya greets the two causing them to roll their eyes at the nickname that no longer pertains to them.

“Hey Als, I should be asking you that instead.” Marinette lifts an eyebrow that accompanies her smirk. Nino and Alya’s faces turn red and they side glance each other. Marinette and Adrien laugh at the couple.

“After class, I’ll be giving a quick speech regarding tonight’s plans,” Marinette states pulling out her classwork and books for class. They all nod in understanding. Just then the rest of the class filed in with matching smiles and asking pertaining to tonight’s activities.

To: Angel From: Demon

Save me from the idiots that I call my brothers?

To: Demon From: Angel

Can’t love, I’m sure it not that bad.

To: Angel From: Demon

For some idiotic reason, they are watching me like a hawk today. I’m currently in the bathroom with the doors locked listening to them bicker outside.

To: Demon From: Angel

Yikes 😬. I’m sure it will die down before you’re required to leave.

To: Angel From: Demon

I doubt that.

To: Demon From: Angel

About that, why did we move our weekly movie night from Saturday to Friday?

To: Angel From: Demon

It’s a half-day at school.

Shit. Talk to you later.

Marinette places her phone down and slowly turns her attention to Mme. Bustier. The red-haired teacher tried to keep her students engaged with the content, but she was losing them faster than on average. Marinette turns to her classmates. Alix and Kim were trying to out strength each other, Juleka and Rose was trying to pay attention but the drooping in Rose’s eyes say otherwise, Sabrina and Chloe—well doing what they usually do—living in their own bubble, Nathaniel was sketching something down in his notebook while Max was pretending to take notes as Markov does it for him. Finally, Mylene and Ivan were also in their own world.

Hours seemed to past in Marinette’s mind before Mme. Bustier concluded today’s lesson. She was so caught up in watching the time that she didn’t realize that was sketching an outfit in her own notebook. Whoops.

“Marinette is there something you would like to add?” Mme. Bustier prompts sending the class’s designated designer a smile.

“Yes,” Marinette gets up from her seat and walks down to the podium. “Tonight is our weekly movie night instead of tomorrow. Do you remember what to bring? If not, please message me before the event. Remember that we are having this event at Chloe’s family’s hotel as it a makeshift theatre room.”

“Daddy says we can have the popcorn maker also.” Chloe interrupts. The class cheers at the thought of the infamous popcorn maker that was usually locked behind the hotel kitchen doors.

“Thank you, Bee, for that tidbit. Now, Max, you are to arrive at the bakery no later than six o’clock. The demon is having a half-day today and I’m ninety-nine percent sure that he’ll want to be here no later than that. Everyone else, you are free to do.” With that and a pretend gavel, Marinette dismisses the class to their next class for the day. 

For Damian, being at school felt like a blessing even if it was a half-day. His brothers have been hounding him all morning. It’s like they are looking for something that isn’t there. Damian’s emotions? Yeah right, they all know he only shows emotions to his beloved animals or animals in general. Damian had to double, triple check the security on his phones because who knows what Drake would find if he had access inside it.

For over six months, he had been going to Paris for movie nights with his beloved and her classmates. At first, he had done it through the zeta tubes but after gaining their trust just enough to be in on the Miraculous Team of Paris, his trips became a lot more frequent. He would make up an excuse about going to a classmate, or Jon’s, house for the night, or to work on a school project. He had gotten away with it for a while, but Tim was the first to notice the lie.

Tim and Conner were having their usually meet up when the Damian had told his family that he was spending time at Jon’s, something that was no unusual. All was fine and dandy until Jon came home with a Damian Wayne. Tim, well it was mainly Dick, had grilled into the young hero about Damian’s whereabouts. Jon either lied or literally had no idea. Which prompted the Batbros to start the search on Damian's weekly disappearance.

Everyone took the day off to “spend time” with Damian. They wanted to trap the teen inside the manor and watch his every movement. Like that isn’t an invasion of privacy or trust.

Alfred brought Damian to the manor around noon. This gives them enough time to hide any open-source of weaponry they could find or items that Damian could use against them in battle. That was a lot of items on the list. Dick inquired for Bruce to hold off on the tracking device as a last resort. He wanted to start everything out with a discussion, but Jason laughs that idea out the window as he cleans his guns.

“The young master is residing in his bedroom,” Alfred speaks walking down into the Batcave.

The Wayne family knew this was it.

To: Angel From: Demon

I’m ready.

To: Demon From: Angel

ETA in 5

Damian smirks at his phone. He loves his girlfriend and how quickly she can manage an entire group of classmates and plan a weekly movie night event.

He had packed his belonging that he usually brings with him when he does to Paris. Which isn’t much.

Four minutes.

Damian thought his ears were playing tricks on him, but they weren’t. He could hear the stampede of footsteps that were no doubt from his family members aside from Alfred. Alfred’s footsteps are like a ghost, you never hear them.

Three minutes.

“Hey little D, since you had a half-day today, why don’t you spend it with us,” Grayson asks the second his bedroom door swings open. Alfred the cat sends a glare to his owner’s family.

“Yeah, Demon spawn, we all took the day off to spend time with you,” Jason adds gas to the fire that was already burning intensely.

“Damian…” Not his father too.

Two minutes.

Damian doesn’t say a word. His eyes bounce from one person to the next and repeat. He didn’t know who to answer them. “Tt.” Was the only word? Sound? That had escaped his lips.

“You need to leave like now.” Damian refuses to have his family find out the very secret he had kept hidden for so long. His quick need for them leaving only pushes them to stay. Worried about various reasons from teen problems to joining the League of Assassins again. They didn’t want to take any chances.

One minute.

Damian could sense the user of the horse kwami becoming active. Soon a blue swirling portal opens up behind Damian. Damian looks at his family and side glances at the portal. The portal wins. The family of vigilantes runs to the portal only for it to close.

“Am I hallucinating or did that just happen?” Tim asks wiping the sleep away from his eyes.

“No, replacement, that really just happened.” Jason states. Tim nods in understanding.

“I’ll do track him down.” Dick sulks at the thought that Bruce was right.

It didn’t take long for the results to come in.

“Uh…so how the hell is the Demon in Paris, France of all places?” Jason shouts from behind his older brother and Bruce.

“The swirling portal thingy?” Tim states the obvious, but it sounded more like a question as he sits down and drinks a cup of coffee.

“Boys we’re going to Paris.”  Bruce states over his sons. From afar, Alfred sighs and goes to prepare the zeta tubes with the destination in mind.

“Uh, civvies or uniform?” Dick asks as they all start to make their way to the zeta tube. This was one of those questions that they linger on for a hot minute.

Before they knew it, Damian had gained an hour over his family.

“It doesn’t matter, we need to know where the little demon has been hiding all this time.” Jason screeches talking over to the zeta tube and teleporting to the location.

Bruce turns to the remainder of his sons who shrugged and follow suit.

Entering Paris, they were further from Damian’s location than anticipated. They follow the tracker with some interruptions. Dick wanted to buy something for Kori, Jason wanted food and Tim needed for coffee. After all that was done, they officially made it to the supposed location of Damian’s whereabouts.

“Why would the little demon at a hotel?”

“Hum, this coffee is really good,” Tim says before taking another sip.

“Boys, focus on the mission.”

“I am focus, Bruce.”

“I didn’t say you were, Dick.”

“Touché.” Dick rubs the back of his arm.  

They enter Le Grand Paris with tensions high and were surprised by how calm and relax the employees were. Jason swears this was just a hoax and they were torturing Damian behind one of these doors. An employee asks them if they are in need of anything. Bruce states that they were looking for his son.

“Is he friends with Chloe and her classmates?” The employee asks.

“Who?” Dick and Bruce ask simultaneously. Jason had dragged Tim off somewhere to look at some things.

The employee eyes the family skeptically.

“Well if he’s not friends with Mlle. Bourgeois, then I suggest heading to the police department and report a missing child.” The employee states before walking away. Bruce sighs and pulls out the tracking device. Damian is so close to them.

“We’re going to find him, right?”

“And drag the brat back to Gotham?”

Bruce in the direction that would be location, he gestures for his children to follow.

Damian was having a blast. In his arms, Marinette sat on his arm clinging to his shirt cursing Kim’s name throughout the film. Kim had chosen a horror movie for tonight’s showing and by kwami it was fantastic. There was no comedic relief, actual horror storytelling leaving the class on the edge of their seats.

Adrien was curled next to Marinette in Luka’s arms. He was also clinging to a body, a certain musician as if he was a frightened kitten.

Just as the MC was about to open the door to the attic, a series of figures jump from the ceiling. Screams in real-life match those within the movie. Popcorn, empty cartons of candy, soda drinks are thrown at the figures. A string of curses follows not long after that.

“Damian, tell your friends to stop.” He knows that voice from anywhere, it was Grayson’s voice. Marinette slides herself off himself.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” He screeches in English. Most of the class didn’t have a clue what was being said.

“We wanted to see where you were?”

“We thought you were kidnapped?”

“I just came for the scenery.”

Damian’s eyes twitch.

“That’s nice and all, but can you move? We’re trying to watch a movie here and you’re ruining it.” Chloe stands up demanding the bat-family to move. They all look to one another before subtly moving away from the screen.

Damian places a quick kiss on Marinette’s cheek and guides his family out of the room. He was not happy that they came in ruining his night with Marinette. Now he has to make up for it with something romantic, not that he’ll do it anyway.

“What made you believe that I was kidnapped?” He asks, the second they were out of the room.

“The portal thingy.”

“You not answering any of our questions.”

Damian breathes through his nose. “You’re all idiots.”

“Well movie night is a bust, but we all agree to stay here to continue rather than going home.” Marinette walks into the hall after a moment of them talking—well it was more of a screaming match between Bruce and Damian with some input from Dick. “Will your family be fine without you for a couple more hours?”

“Habibti, these dunces are my family,” Damian states gesturing to his family,

Marinette nods, “Well then, hello, and can we keep Damian for the night?”

Damian walks over to Marinette and wraps his arms around her. “I’ll return from before it’s nightfall in Gotham, father.”

“Uh, sure. Boys lets go.” Bruce accepts the came and walks down the hall. Before either of the brothers could pester Damian about this newfound relationship, Bruce gave them all the bat-glare and demanded that they follow.

“You know you’re going to get pestered, right.” Marinette laughs.

“Don’t remind me.”

“Come on, we have a movie to finish.”

With that, Damian takes Marinette’s hand and walks back into the room.  

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[erin-bo-berin]

Lists

MASTERLIST

This fic was requested by @sundippedprincess​ for Spencer and the reader to exchange kink lists. This was so different for me to write because it borders on smut, but doesn’t actually include it. It was also pretty funny to channel Spencer and his knowledge. This one is a little shorter than most of mine, but I wanted to post a little mid-week fic for y’all. I hope you enjoy and happy reading!

Spencer Reid/Reader

Rating: M (no smut, but talk of sexual acts/kinks)

Word Count: 1,927

“I can’t believe you came up with this.”

You and your boyfriend Spencer were currently sitting on your shared bed, each of you writing on your respective notepads.

“Hey, we’re at the point in our relationship where it’s perfectly respectable to share things like this with one another,” Spencer explained, never once looking up from his writing.

He’d been scribbling for a good ten minutes before you’d even begun writing, making you incredibly nervous.

“What are you even writing?” you asked, exasperated, trying to peek.

“You’ll find out soon enough,” he smirked, pulling the pad closer to him, where you couldn’t see.

After a nonchalant conversation the other day about kinks, Spencer suggested that you both write down any kinks you and him had or even wanted to experiment with. 

This is how you ended up sitting on the opposite side of the bed, just staring at him as he immediately started writing. You were so curious what was on his list. 

So far, your list seemed pretty bare. You had experimented with milder kinks—which you were more comfortable with—but there were a few more intermediate ones that you would be willing to try.

Spencer seemed to be enjoying this a lot though. He was scribbling happily, tongue poking out of the side of his mouth.

You had to admit, you were pretty curious what kinks he was interested in.

Yours and Spencer’s sex life was pretty routine. It had never been bad per se, but maybe he was right, it was a good point in your relationship where you could feel comfortable enough with one another to try new things.

You and he had been dating for just about a year now, although you hadn’t been intimate until much later in your relationship. The first four or so months was spent taking things slow, something that was fine with you. He had a busy career and you were still getting to know each other.

You weren’t keen on rushing into anything either, so it had never been a big deal that the sexual part of your relationship didn’t form for a bit. It took a while—as it usually did in a new relationship—for you both to become accustomed to one other in bed. 

This was taking it to a new level though. You and he had briefly talked before about what you enjoyed in bed, but not to these lengths. So as you made out your list, you made sure to add even the most obvious ones.

Your eyes fell to your piece of paper that had your obvious kinks: fingering, oral and lingerie/sexy outfits. You thought harder though. What would be something that you would enjoy and would turn you both on?

Chewing your bottom lip, you added more to your list.

Looking over at Spencer, you saw him smirking and nodding to himself as he wrote. What in this world was he writing? 

Perhaps your boyfriend was kinkier than you thought.

You thought about other things you were curious to try and added them to your list. It had grown some, but still seemed pretty weak compared to the novel you were sure Spencer was writing.

By now, your list included:

Fingering

Oral Sex

Lingerie/Sexy Clothing

Roleplay

Dirty Talk

Face Sitting

Moaning 

Those were the mild ones and ones that were pretty common and usually done.

The few that you added were:

Sex Toys

Striptease

Sex In Different Locations

You couldn’t think of much of anything else, so you sat and waited while your boyfriend continued adding to his list.

“Are you writing the Kama Sutra over there?” you joked.

“You know, contrary to the popular belief the Kama Sutra isn’t really a guide on sex or sex positions as much as it is a guide on the art of living well, the nature of love, finding a life partner and maintaining one’s love life and other aspects pertaining to pleasure-oriented faculties of human life.”

You chuckled, his gift for spouting random facts something you found incredibly endearing. You were always learning something new, like in fact, the real subject of the Kama Sutra.

“Good to know,” you smiled.

“Okay, I’m just about done,” he commented.

You sat waiting, quite amused.

“And done,” he said, putting down his pen.

“Count of three we switch?” you offered.

“One,” he began.

“Two,” you added.

“Three.”

At the same time, you switched notepads. Your eyes bugged at the amount of writing on the page. It was completely full. You were extremely intrigued.

The list was a mile long and some were-

“Spencer, some of these aren’t in English!”

He looked at you with a cocky grin and a raised brow. You just gaped at him.

“What language is this anyway?” you asked, looking closer.

“Two are Russian, one is Korean,” he answered nonchalantly.

“I’m afraid to ask what they are.”

“Don’t worry, none of it is really BDSM or anything,” he said, “I see too much stuff like that at work and I would never want to put you through something like that.”

His voice was gentle and you smiled at his concern.

“Besides, the hardcore stuff doesn’t do much for me anyway.”

At least that was one thing you could agree on.

You watched his eyes quickly scan your small list.

“I am very much up for a striptease,” he grinned, “Sex toys, hmm? Noted.”

“Spencer,” you chuckled, watching his finger run down the list.

“Moaning?” he asked, “Care to elaborate?”

“Too many guys are quiet. I want you to moan. I wanna hear how good I’m making you feel,” you smirked.

“Oh I can definitely manage to do that for you,” he mumbled half to himself, making you grin.

“Aren’t you gonna check out mine?” he questioned.

“I’m preparing myself,” you deadpanned.

But as usual, curiosity killed the cat. So, you looked.

You saw some of the same things you had included on your own list; fingering, oral sex, face sitting and dirty talk.

“Gotta put that dirty talk to use, I see,” you mumbled as you read.

“Oh, believe me, I will,” he smirked.

“Dominant and submissive huh?”

“Not like in BDSM though,” he said, “Sometimes I might be in the mood to dominate you, sometimes I might want you to dominate me.”

“Can’t wait for that,” you grinned slyly.

Your eyes continued down the list.

Food Play

Sensation Play

Deprivation/Blindfolds

“Food play, I approve of. I think we have some whipped cream in the fridge as we speak,” you said, “What’s sensation play?”

“Like if I want to run a piece of ice over your naked body while you’re hot and turned on and watch it melt slowly on your skin.”

Your mouth dried a bit, just imagining the scenario and you shifted slightly, clearing your throat.

“And deprivation?”

“If I feel like tying your wrists to the bed posts so you can’t touch me while I fuck you. Or blindfold you and drive you crazy because you can’t see me, only feel me,” Spencer said.

“Mm,” you hummed, trying to ignore the slight churn in your stomach from your lust.

One item caught your eye, distracting you from your desires.

“Impregnation kink?”

“Mhm,” he answered, “Cause what’s hotter than the possibility of getting you pregnant? Knowing that I did that.”

His smirk had grown on his face. You had to agree, it was sexy. You may not have been together for an extremely long period of time, but you could definitely say you’d one day like to have a baby with him.

“Oh my god, Spencer Reid,” you said, as your eyes fell on the next listed kink, “You have a spanking kink?”

“Not that I know of,” he answered innocently, “But if you’re willing, I’d like to try it. Maybe just one here and there during rough sex.”

“You better stay over there at this rate or I’m going to end up ripping all your clothes off,” you grumbled.

“I know what I’m doing,” he grinned mischievously.

“Okay, I know this one should be self explanatory, but what are cumshots and why is that on your list? How do you even know about all of these? Nevermind,” you held up your hand, “I forgot, you do lots of reading on everything.”

“Ejaculating into a woman’s vagina.”

“Okay, that’s one we’ve already done,” you snickered.

Your gaze continued down the list.

Orgasm Control

Orgasm Denial

Begging 

“Oh so you want me to beg for you to fuck me?” you smirked, “Yet you won’t let me come?”

“We’ve done it a little before. It’s sexy seeing you writhe under me, begging to cum so hard that you see stars.”

You were now throbbing with arousal, you couldn’t deny it anymore.

“Erotic massage?” 

Your brows lifted at the next entry on the list.

“What?” he grinned innocently, “You get a sensual massage and I have an excuse to keep my hands on my girl. It’s a win-win.”

You laughed. He definitely had a point there.

The next one made your eyebrows practically shoot to your hairline.

“Public sex?!”

“I’m not talking about out in the open!” he claimed, “I mean like car sex or even some secret fun under a table. Maybe my hand accidentally slips and slides into your panties one night when we’re out for dinner with the team. Maybe you have to keep from moaning as I secretly finger you, reveling in the fact that you so badly want to moan, but you have to remain composed.”

His voice dropped, getting huskier.

“And when you orgasm, your body tenses so badly and your nails dig into my forearm as your body relaxes and you release all over my hand, unbeknownst to the rest of the table.”

The room suddenly felt hotter than the Sahara desert. You realized you were staring at him, your jaw slackened. 

“Problem, Y/N?” he smirked.

“Huh? No, yeah. I’m totally fine, I mean.”

You really weren’t.

There were only a few items left on the list now.

Filming Yourself

Mirror Sex

“Oh so you are kinky, huh?” you giggled, more to cover the fact that your own arousal was at dangerous heights now.

“You mean you don’t find the idea hot as fuck to watch yourself being fucked good by me in a mirror? Or filming it so you can watch while I’m gone? I mean, I have an eidetic memory, so I can automatically replay your orgasm face in my mind whenever I want.”

He was definitely asking for it, now. 

Your eyes fell to the last thing listed.

Thigh Riding

“What’s that?” you asked, pointing to it.

“Not exactly a full on kink, but the fantasy of it seems extremely erotic. I’d like to see you ride my thigh, grind on it as hard as you can until you’re a moaning, orgasming mess.”

His voice was a near growl now, his own desires showing—in more than just the indicator in his pants.

“Oh fucking hell,” you snapped, tossing the notepad aside.

You were across the bed in mere seconds, in front of him, ready to kiss him. He tossed the other pad of paper to meet yours on the floor as he grabbed you and pushed you back against the bed, him falling with you as he hovered over you. He kissed you briefly.

“So which one do you want to try out first?” you asked, breathless from the singular kiss.

His small, answering smirk was more than enough of an answer for you, but he answered anyway.

“Whichever you want.”

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[asclepius-erebus]

Nevarro

Title: Personal Eden (Ongoing)

Chapter 3: Nevarro

Rating: Mature (17+)

Word Count: 4.3k

TW: mentions of abuse (lmk if I should include any more!)

The next day, as anticipated, you land on Nevarro, where upon disembarking a flurry of droids scurry up to the ship.

“Hey!” Mando yells, paralyzing all the droids, “No droids!”

You learn that the baby is not in fact Mando’s, but a foundling he’d taken up first as a quarry but then adopted. You’re not sure what’s so special about this child, but for it to have a bounty over it’s head before it can intelligibly speak seemed cruel enough, and you don’t ask any further questions.

You also learned that Mando is a man of few words. He tends to keep his responses curt and to-the-point; and never straying away from the subject of conversation. From your observation, he has not gone onto tangents or disclosed any new information, willingly, that did not immediately pertain to the topic. It made it even more difficult for you to learn anything new about him, his character, humors, and appearance. He is a complete mystery, and yet you find him fascinating all the while he continues to intimidate with both his outward appearance, and lack of openness.

The day on Nevarro is grey despite the sky being totally clear. The landscape isn’t strikingly beautiful like some of the other planets you’ve been on with Malsifer. It’s gritty, dusty, and terribly suffocating. The air feels dense and warm, that kind that made you feel sticky and uncomfortable. The sky is a dull blue, but blue nontheless.

Since joining Mando on his ship, he’d allowed you the time to wash off the caked on makeup from the other night, some of which you’d cried off, like your ruby red lips. It was a nice color, you were fond of how well it complimented your skin and the shape of your lips- but it had overstayed its time on your face and it was time for it to go.

However, upon stepping onto the rough planet, you realize how out of place you appear to be. Not only is the green alien child perched on your hip and babbling to himself, but you’re still dressed in what Mando had rescued you in a few days ago. The wispy fabrics fluttered in the subtle warm breezes, carrying with them the muted but bright colors of an oceanside sunset of lavender, magenta, and gold. You felt exposed among the muted and dark colors that Mando and his child limited themselves to, sticking out like a sore thumb.

Mando’s child begins to fuss, deciding that he wanted to meander around in the dirt as Mando took a few steps towards an unfamiliar man. The man is of a darker complexion, though his beard and hair suggests he is of a wiser age, and extended a friendly hand to shake. They must already know each other.  

The child giggles and laughs, grasping and tossing any rocks he finds on the ground. You crouch to his level, structuring his play by tossing him back the rocks he’d thrown. From this, he giggles excitedly.

~~

“Greef.” Mando greets the aging man, Greef Karga, approaching him at the opening to the city, densely lined with clay houses and open markets. It teems with a unique variety of inhabitants and passersby- like Mando, who does not stand out in the crowd as obviously as the brightly colored dresses his new acquaintance was dressed in. That, was something he’d address soon enough.

“Mando.” Greef smiles, eyes lighting up upon seeing the familiar helmet, “How are you old friend?”

Mando looks over his shoulder at his companions before returning his attention to Greef, “Surprised to be back. What are you doing out here?” He asks with a tired sigh.

Greef raises an inquisitive eyebrow, “I’m just as surprised to see you out here… Tying up a few loose ends. Who’s your new friend?”

Mando hooks his gloved fingers at the top of his chest plate, resting his arms casually over himself and relieving some of the weight of the Beskar on his shoulders, “That’s who I’m here to find some information about. She’s one of Malsifer’s.”

“Malsifer?” Greef’s eyes widen, “What is she? A quarry?”

Mando’s helmet shakes, “No, Malsifer was. Malsifer had an indentured servant situation and I need to know more about her… Anything would be useful, but especially any bank records.” Mando says quietly, sliding a small note with the name of his newest crewmate scribbled onto it.

Greef looks down at the note inquisitively, “Malsifer, huh? Doesn’t surprise me… He always rubbed me the wrong way… Though I’m not surprised that his luck, or lack of it, finally caught up to him.”

“She’s got no where to go. Is there any way you can find out anything about her that’s useful…?”

Greef looks between Mando and the cooing child and woman behind him, and then down at the name on the note, “Get back to me in an hour or two.”

~~

Mando turns to wave yourself and the baby to his side, the man with whom he was conversing with turning away and headed into the city.

“What was that about?” You ask, the baby occupying itself with a metal ball he’s produced from his bundle of clothing.

“Business.” He says briefly.

Business. You think to yourself, the most colorful response I’ve gotten since I boarded.

With the baby balanced on your hip, Mando navigates you both through the streets of a busy marketplace. Vendors line the streets and advertise their products and produce, crafts, and other items for sale, all ranging in complexity and beauty that you admire from a distance. The baby on your hip is thoroughly entertained with all the sights, sounds, and colors, teething on a pastry he managed to swipe off a vendor when they weren’t looking.

Of course you attract some attention. Not only did it not help that the baby you tote clearly is not yours, but your impractical and fluttering dresses had other passerby step and trip on them as you went- sending you a few gross side-eyes and raised eyebrows. You clutch what you can in your hands as you follow Mando’s glistening helmet through the crowd.

He approaches a stand fluttering with colorful fabrics, handcrafted designs embroidered to the hems of cloaks, dresses, and shirts. They’re all so pretty and wonderful to look at.

Mando begins a conversation with a middle aged woman at the stand in her native language, her weathered face and dark eyes glancing at you from time to time as Mando continues to explain something to her. She raises her hand and counts on her fingers as she explains something to him in response, Mando filling her palm with a few coins. Pleased, she nods and produces a neatly folded up wad of fabric. She extends it towards you with a forced but friendly smile.

“Something to cover yourself with for now…” Mando explains, “Later, on the ship, I can find you some clothes.”

Accepting the folded fabric, you briefly study its particular shade of purple. It’s dark and neutral, almost barely detectably purple should someone care enough and stare long enough at you. You unfold it to find an opening, and you slip it over your head, a hood catching on you as the rest of the fabric settles on your shoulders and over your torso. The baby gets caught in it too, but frees himself with a shake of his enormous head. It is a cloak, the fabric feeling pleasurably heavy on your figure and comfortable on your bare shoulders. It feels protective and warm, but breathable and completely functional as an everyday garment. Not only does it feel well, but it conceals you much better amongst everyone else.  

“I buy my cloaks off her.” Mando responds simply, the first time he’s shared a new fact about himself, “She’s also going to find you a pair of shoes.”

He’s right. Perhaps the pair of sandals tied at your ankles aren’t the best fit for a shoe to be blundering around planets with. It was certainly enough for the occasions you accompanied Malsifer to meeting his clients, and the extent of your time out in the elements was limited to barely nothing. Malsifer concerned himself more with whether you appeared to his liking and aesthetics.

The older woman returns, producing a short pair of dark brown leather boots of a matte finish. They are simple and easy to slip on, with no intricate buckles, zippers, or ties. They hug your feet comfortably and accomplishes all the criteria necessary for being a practical piece of footwear.

Mando glances around and hands the woman a few extra coins, nodding in thanks as she accepts them and waves kindly at the child on your hip.

“Thank you.” You tell Mando as the three of you walk away from the stand of fluttering fabrics. He doesn’t react, at least as far as you can observe from the faceless helmet that you looked at when speaking to him.

“We have some time before we meet up with Greef again.” Mando says, ignoring what you’d said, “We can-“

“-Take a look around.” You interrupt, your curiosity about the rest of the market piqued. Surely there were other useful and interesting things the three of you can look at other than the four metal walls of Mando’s ship.

Mando agrees, but you’re not necessarily sure if it was from acquiescence or genuine concurrence.

It is difficult to read him, you’ve noticed it bothering you, without any facial expressions and other visual cues to clue you into his mood. His body language was often also very grey and difficult to deduce. This is unlike what you’ve relied on in the past to understand and predict other people’s behaviors. Malsifer was an individual very prone to giving himself way via his expressions and tone of voice, which made it easier to clue you into how you should respond, if at all. It’s natural to rely on social cues in order to know how to respond to a given situation, but with Mando, it feels quite the contrary.

He strolls with you at a relaxed pace, his hand firmly placed on the hilt of his blaster he keeps attached to his waist.  

Your eyes flicker between his helmet and his hand. You’d seen him use his blaster with deadly precision, it drove you to tears to see the barrel trained at the space between your eyes. You hadn’t heard of stormtroopers being as accurate, and you question what he is, and what he represents. You can already deduce that he’s a bounty hunter, why else would he be looking for quarry? But why the child? Why the armor? And why the ship you’d finally observed to be very Old Republic.

“Mando-“ You begin to ask curiously…“Can I ask you a question?”… cautiously.

“Sure.” He says simply, his helmet turning to observe a long blaster rifle on display at a vendor.

“Where are you from?”

Mando’s helmet continues to follow the long rifle as he walks away, “No where. I was a foundling.”

“A foundling from where?” You ask again. “Who found you?”

“I don’t remember.” He says dryly, his gaze returning forward as he scans the vendors again till something catches his eye… visor.

“So then what’s with the armor?”

He stops midstride, and you sense that you’ve either said something wrong or insulted him in some way.

Your cheeks immediately feel like their burning despite the chill that raced down your spine. You blink back a million-and-one thoughts and possibilities on how he might respond. Was he mad? Dumbfounded? Absolutely furious? It’s too hard to tell. By the way he’d stopped and now turned his head towards you, your hands clench into a fist- not prepared to strike, but to brace.

He chuckles. He chuckles. Warmly, softly, and bemusedly, his modulated blitheness is musical and so incredibly comforting. You’re not sure how you should react. It’s not the reaction you’d braced yourself for. After all, you’d insulted him, didn’t you?

“You mean to tell me that you’ve never seen Mandalorian armor before?” He asks, resuming the slow pace he took beside you.

You shake your head, looking down at the ground as you resume walking a few paces behind him. The child, unbothered, continues to chew on the pastry and inquisitively looks between yourself and Mando.

“I’m surprised Malsifer never let you see one.” He says, “No wonder you seemed pretty scared when I was there.”

You’d kept your gaze down at your feet as you walked, feeling ashamed to ask a dumb question in the first place. Of course you knew what a Mandalorian was, but you’d only ever read about them in flimsi books you’d managed to smuggle in and out of Malsifer’s library. They seem downright fictional, down to their very demeanors of being militant and mute. It didn’t help that the only information accessible to you came in bound flimsi books that in itself was probably older than yourself or Malsifer’s combined existence. You’d never seen their armor, at least not the kind that Mando was sporting in pure Beskar and with a helmet that looked too much like a storm trooper’s. You’d sooner expect he was an ex-trooper, or someone who simply stole or bought their armor.

“It was terrifying.” You admit softly, “You, pointing a blaster in my face. Doesn’t help that you’ve got all that armor.”

You see his boots stop moving and turn towards you. You still keep your gaze down, distracting your hands with the child’s robes as the crumbs of his treat fell from his face.

“Look at me.” He says sternly, and you obey, looking up into his visor, “You need to… unlearn whatever this is.”

You chew your lip, intimidated by his presence so close and so powerful over you. You fight yourself and your nervous glances away from the glare of his visor.  

“I don’t know what Malsifer put you through, but here, with us… none of it.” He continues, “Can’t have you walking behind me like some shadow, not with my kid.” He takes a step back from you and turns away, but stops.

His shoulders drop and his demeanor softens, “You were walking next to me.” He says, awaiting for you meet him at his side, “You were saying…”

Meeting up with him, the child in your arms coos and reaches out to Mando, who scoops him up from your grasp and you hide your arms under the cloak. He is right, it’s different with Mando and his kid. This is an equal playing field where you’re a part of a cohort of other individuals just like you. Of course, Mando is the leader, he provides, flies, and protects. The new dynamic is refreshing, but old habits are hard to beat. Which isn’t a natural nor healthy response. But neither was being caned across your knees and shins if you didn’t do so.

Mando stops at a vendor selling a wide assortment of things. They all seem extremely random, from switchboards to datatapes to bacta kits. Perhaps these are things the vendor was able to scavenge off broken ships and droids, this isn’t the first time you’d seen scrap collectors try to sell off what they can’t trade at a refinery. You’ve heard of such beings called Jawas who are infamous for such scavenging, but you also know that they’re not entirely open to the idea of selling what they find.

Mando strikes up a conversation with the vendor, a tall and slender specimen with small black eyes and three digits on each of their four arms. They’re haggling, is what you can assume, as Mando shakes his head and points to a well-stocked bacta kit on the table. The vendor insists on a certain price, counting it off on his palms before accepting a deal with Mando’s budget. He swipes the bacta off the table, and tosses it.

You catch it and immediately hide it under your cloak. Mando notices, walking away from the vendor saying, “Keep that there, don’t want him noticing he let me take the wrong one.”

His dry friendliness is welcoming, it made you feel like you were walking with a friend rather than a tank. The child giddily had finished his snack and entertained himself with his metal ball, which now you’d deduced was from a switch or lever, likely coming from the cockpit of the ship.  

“So… your armor. Mandalorian?” You ask, keeping pace with him.

He nods, “Mandalorian.”

You think back to what you’d read about in the flimsis, “If I recall correctly, some Mandalorians choose to keep their helmets on? Or do all of you have to wear it all the time?”

Mando nods, “When I swore to the creed, I swore to keep my identity secret. It’s part of our code.”

“So ‘Mando’ isn’t your real name?” You ask.

“No.”

“So what is your name?”

“Mando.”

You furrow your brows, not wanting to press further. You admire the devotion, despite it frustrating you further. You wanted to learn more of him, but now you know that such learning can no longer pertain to his appearance, and you must now learn his character. Though it wasn’t the only thing weighing on your curiosity, you’ve already begun building his profile.

Like you’d learned during your time in hyperspace that he is a man of not-so-many words. He isn’t aptly good at beginning a conversation, and usually such conversations are limited to small talk on the basis of his work and ship… But that had been debunked when he disclosed that he gets his cloaks from the woman at the colorful stand, and joked to you about the bacta-kit hidden away under your cloak. You hope he will reveal more of himself to you with time. You’re patient enough for that.

You respect that his physical appearance as an extension of his anonymity. It’s not the only instance where you’ve experienced the sort of veiling that came with particular religions, cultural identities, and personal choices. It will be up to him to disclose what he wants and when- it would be rude of you to pester. It’s not your place.  

The three of you walk leisurely, stopping occasionally to look at something interesting at a stall before returning into the direction of the ship. In the distance, you observe the man from earlier standing and waiting for you, Greef, you remember Mando mentioning the name.

Mando hands you the child back into your arms, “Get back on the ship.” He instructs, and you nod, the baby beginning to doze off to sleep in your arms.

~~

“What did you find?” Mando asks taking a few steps towards Greef and out of earshot from his new crewmate.

Greef’s usually friendly smile is thin, “I found one result for her name, one that appears on an obituary. According to the systems, she’s technically dead.”

Mando exhales sharply, disappointed, and curiously tipping his head to the side, “So, what? How long has she been ‘dead’?”

“Five years.” Greef says bleakly, “And she has no digital footprints anywhere. No record of her ever even having an account to hold credits, or receipts from anywhere that she’s spent credits.”  

Mando looks back in the direction of his ship, watching you board the Razor Crest with the child in your arms, how tenderly you hold his head and attend to his sleepy babbling. This is unfortunate news, that Mando would need to tell you sooner rather than later.

“I don’t know what to do with her.” Mando admits quietly, your silhouette disappearing in the ship.

Greef clears his throat, “I know this is none of my business, but the baby seems to like her, it’s pretty obvious… Until she can figure things out on her own, she can stick around, learn a thing or two, and you’ll have someone who can take care of the kid when you have jobs.”

Mando nods, “This isn’t the first time Malsifer faked someone’s death just to drain their accounts?”

“It’s also not the first time he’s trapped pretty young girls into being his personal assistants.” Greef says, raising an eyebrow in Mando’s direction.

“He abused them.” Mando says, “If it wasn’t for their money, what else did he need them for?”

Greef shrugs, folding his arms across his chest, “Malsifer seemed like the controlling type… He liked being in control of anything and everything important to him which is money and power. I don’t think she was a part of anything more sinister, but I certainly wouldn’t rule it out.”

“I’ll find that out more when she feels like talking. Right now… I don’t know what to do with her.” Mando crosses his arms.

Greef looks back at the ship behind Mando and back to his visor, “Let her stay until she can figure something out for herself. She can be useful while you work, keep the ship and the kid safe while you’re out…”

Mando nods again in agreement, “It’s my only option right now. Thank you… for your help.”

Greef smiles, “Anytime, old friend.”

--

Mando appears on the ship shortly after you’d put the child to sleep in his shiny egg-like crib. He’d tired himself out from the morning shopping and was happily full of whatever pastry took him the entire walk to eat.

You’d put the bacta pack in the bacta kit soldered on the metal of ship and managed to clear out some of the dust that had blown into the hull while the door was open. You’d observed Mando’s ship to not only be Old Republic but also just old in general. Though it is in excellent flying condition for its age, it lacked in amenities that more modern ships had like touch-pads instead of buttons and actually finished floors and walls. Either Mando is a man of old fashion, or simply too preoccupied to take care of his ship like others do.

He is quiet, walking up and down the hull checking lights, buttons, datapads, and other things. While he did that, you patiently sit on the familiar wedge prepared to strap into the metal wall and prepare for take-off. Your hands occupy themselves with the hang nails that plague your fingers.

You see, from the corner of your eye, something tan and grey. Looking up, it was Mando, handing off to you a pile of clothing he’d gathered in his quiet pacing around the hull.

“Thank you.” You say softly, standing to get to the fresher.

Mando nods, “Meet me in the cockpit, we need to talk.” And he turns before you can ask any questions. He disappears up the ladder.

The cockpit? You think to yourself curiously, what in the worlds does he want to talk about?

The mirror in the fresher is just reflective enough to call itself a mirror. It clearly once existed as a piece of scrap that Mando had repurposed to decorate the blank wall above the sink. But it fulfilled its purpose in reflecting back the visage of yourself you present every day.

Today, you look tired.

Dark circles around your eyes hint at some much needed deep sleep and the tired squint you gave to yourself only emphasizes this.

You look at the clothing Mando handed to you, consisting of a large white shirt and some pants that definitely needed to be tailored to accommodate your height and lack of… lower… masculine features. These are clearly articles of clothing Mando has no use for, and you’re thankful for them despite Mando’s somewhat apparent reluctance.

You undo yourself from your dress, somewhat sad to see the magical colors fall to the floor in a wispy heap. This was healthy though, a transition into a different person. After all, you’re fulfilling the prophecy you’d begun to brainstorm the first night aboard the ship: a change of clothes.

The shirt is square, harsh but hemmed edges of fabric for sleeves, a collar, and buttons to secure said collar closed. It sat rather high on your neck, so you keep the first two buttons undone, one side of the collar falling open to reveal the raw edge of the hem. The sleeves were of a comfortable length, also squared off with a button for cuff-links that you undo and gently fold up your forearm.

Looking back up at yourself in the mirror, you look like a little girl trying on her father’s clothes. It’s clear that they’re too big, but you make do with tucking and folding where you can. But the broad and structured shoulders the shirt gave you made you feel… bigger? Something about it made you feel more robust.

The pants are… another story. Of course they sat a little low on your hips and were too loose around the area where you lacked the facilities of a man. But the utilities of having so many pockets and places to stow away small items brought you some small joy as you cuff the pants around your ankles and tuck the shirt into them.

You style your hair simply up, anything to keep it away from your face and off your shoulders till it’s time to wash and you think what to do about them then.

Looking back into the crusty mirror, though your eyes see themselves, a whole new person has taken shape behind them. It felt foreign to you to appear so fresh-faced, neutral, and unassuming in a world where Malsifer demanded you always looked your best as an extension of himself and his appearance. That usually translated in wearing makeup on a near-daily basis, and extravagant colorful gowns to even the most casual of events.

The dress is a pastel mess on the floor of the fresher, and looking down at it, you feel a twinge of guilt for having to abandon it. It’s pretty…

You bundle it up and head out from the fresher.

You walk quietly across the hull, your bare feet making light patting noises as you went. Sitting at the wedge in the wall, you ditch the dress behind you and slip on your boots again before standing up, and head towards the cockpit like Mando told you to.

[raeloganthesonic06fangirl]

what's your opinion on negaduck's character as a whole? like what drastic changes there were to him between the OG show and in the comics? like how he has more psychotic and blood-thirsty in the comics? (is what I'm assuming)

I've answered a similar question before about my opinions of the character, with it being mostly pertaining to me having liked the original and liking the direction we're going with Jim Starling 😗

Mostly, the main issue I have with the comic portrayal is that he shreds Mr. Banana Brain completely unprompted, aside from QuackerJack asking him to spill the beans about Darkwing Duck's secret identity (that itself is also a little forced, because at no real point in the cartoon has QuackerJack really expressed interest in finding out Darkwing's double life there, and has had plenty of opportunity before to take Darkwing's mask off himself. Heck, he could have gone down to the Tea and Doilies Society in "Days of Blunder" and just seen Darkwing unmasked there, he knew that Darkwing was working there temporarily, so he had plenty of chances if he really wanted to)

Sure, Negaduck is definitely a bully, but he usually has to be provoked into harrasing his underlings otherwise he'll just dip out and leave once the caper is done, like he tried to in "Life, the Negaverse and Everything" before Megavolt, QuackerJack, Liquidator and Bushroot decided to follow after him. He's go no problem with intimidating them and making them scared, but I should probably note that he was at least generous enough to equally divide up control of the city to them in "Just Us Justice Ducks" in exchange for keeping all the loot they had pilfered (an action the Fearsome was not going to agree with without a fight, but still, it was certainly an interesting thing for him to willingly offer them the city in exchange for the cash)

So it's very strange that QuackerJack was the only one to follow after him to ask questions about why Negaduck had taken an uncharacteristic amount of his take when we've seen him at least be willing to pay them fairly in the past.

Absolutely no reason for QuackerJack to be the only one to tag along, when the group works together as one unit. Absolutely no reason for Negaduck to have grabbed Mr. Banana Brain to tear apart and throw back in QuackerJack's face

Except for

Because the plot of the comics doesn't set off unless this event has occurred.

QuackerJack would not have kidnapped his friends after they had to split ways after he basically broke after Mr. Banana Brain was destroyed, and after Negaduck directly attacks Darkwing's home, prompting Darkwing to go off the grid to hide his family from danger, leaving crime to run amuck on St. Canard, prompting the Crimebots to be deployed by Taurus Bulba to wipe out any manner of crime (including something as simple as music piracy), and gather up everyone to work at QuackWerks and ONLY QuackWerks, creating a "Villian Rehabilitation Program" in the process that completely fails to work for QuackerJack because it wasn't really there to help reintegrate the villains back into society as fruitful citizens, but to just keep them so beat down and exhausted from overworking at the company that they had no energy to do anything at all... which is why QuackerJack snapped again and went on that rampage.

All of this, ALL of this hinges on Negaduck destroying Mr. Banana Brain. None of the main plot of the comics could have probably happened like it did if there hadn't been some fail safe put in place that would have prevented QuackerJack from even agreeing to work at a desk job.

They had to break the characters to make this major event possible.

I don't even think Negaduck even knows what Mr. Banana Brain is for and why that's important to QuackerJack, he's probably seen the doll at least twice.

They made Negaduck be a monster just for the sake of being cruel for no reason. Considering that Mr. Banana Brain has been described before as a "sawdust filled doll" (although the comics show him with fiberfil), which is a particular retro style, one can assume there's a very kind of fabric texture as well, that means a lot of effort goes into shredding that by hand, right in QuackerJack's face, while subsequently yelling at QuackerJack about how he's not important enough to know who Darkwing is.

It's mean-spirited, and out of character for Negaduck's style of tormenting and bullying.

He's way more direct in telling them how much he thinks they're idiots, and doesn't necessarily paint himself as a paragon of nastiness, just that he's thinks they're a bunch of losers and has better things to do than waste his time with them. He doesn't really explain why he thinks he's better than them.

Heck, Negaduck is virtually the same as Darkwing in terms of ego and "Time and Punishment" shows that if Darkwing didn't have any inhibitions and morals, he'd be just as capable of taking control of St. Canard in a manner similar to how Negaduck controls Nega-St. Canard.

That said, I especially want to note how in the past, QuackerJack has specifically tried hard to get on Negaduck's good side as both a good little lackey, and even attempting to form some kind of friendship (such as loudly expressing disappointment when Negaduck doesn't show interest in "wanting to hang out after a caper")

QuackerJack has consistently tried to be social with Negaduck, despite the fact that this is usually met with threats and at one point, Negaduck just knocks him to the ground and steps on him like a doormat while trying to get out of his line of sight.

Neither of these guys are "UwU Harmless Widdle Babies", but I really doubt that QuackerJack would have been disarmed enough to let Mr. Banana Brain be yanked out of his hands, and I doubt that Negaduck will would have straight up shredded the doll when it was probably more in character for him to just use MBB as leverage to keep QuackerJack's attention while verbally tearing him down, then perhaps chuck the doll back at him or just off the beaten path to have QuackerJack scrambling over the doll while he makes a getaway with the loot.

Heck, I would have even accepted the scenario of throwing Mr. Banana Brain towards the streets as a diversion to leave, only for there to have been like a street sweeper or something to have accidentally ran over the doll and chewed MBB up good, or a dog mistakes it for a chew toy or MBB lands in the bay and gets swallowed by a shark (and sometime later spat back up), effectively causing QuackerJack to be traumatized and THEN we have the comic plot, that would have been more in line with established canon and style.

I'm going to keep going on and on until the end of time about what happened to Mr. Banana Brain because Mr. Banana Brain is treated as his own entity separate from QuackerJack, and we're going to have to acknowledge his emotional importance to QuackerJack, and Mr. Banana Brain is what my family would call a "Woobie", which is a term we collectively use to describe a security item, usually a blanket but for someone like me, it refers to a well worn and well loved plush toy. A more popular term would be "Comfort Item".

You don't mess with someone's woobie just to be a jerk, no matter who's writing you in a comics. That's just as bad as taking candy from a baby. 👀

... Gosh, I think the sun's coming up, I should think about going to sleep now. 😅

[sophisticated-creepy]

Daybreak was bright, crisp, and exhilarating, Lola feeling every fiber of her being humming with excitement as the brisk autumn sun kissed her face. She was inspired and playful, eager to attack the morning as she initiated day one of her research plans. The more she thought about the Hobblin’ Goblin for her story, the more she realized she didn’t know the essentials to his origins. She was completely attached to the idea of him being her “Mr. Goblin”, the imaginary friend and childhood companion, and never dove deeper into why he played his pranks, only that he did, and therefore, negated any notion for further investigation. He simply existed, and her imagination conceived the rest. Even Raphael, she discovered over breakfast, wasn’t fully aware of the iconic legend’s origins, and he was a history Professor.

“I guess I don’t know him as intimately as I thought,” she said, stunned to the awakening of her own ignorance regarding the goblin.

“Don’t feel badly,” Raphael had comforted. “I have no doubt you’ll turn this story of yours into an adventure yet.”

Taking her beloved’s advice to heart, Lola got into the proper mindset for delving into the task of research. Her deadline was fast approaching, and she wanted to make as much headway as possible in gathering her facts before putting pen to paper. Five hundred words held the capability to be irrevocably profound. This challenge was an opportunity to showcase depth instead of fluff, so today was all business, strictly pounding the streets for information, putting in the hard work of sleuthing, deducing, and discovering what exactly made the Hobblin’ Goblin tick.

Since the town was saturated in claims of the goblin’s mischief, Lola decided that she would first get as many personal testimonies from the victims of these pranks as possible. Then, upon more research, she would be able to see what connections in claims could help in unlocking the mystery of the Hobblin’ Goblin, allowing her assignment to look into the character of the people affected by the imp, and give her plot heart. Her own opinions were too biased in a light-hearted, flouncy sort of parody she perceived of the goblin’s personality, and while in some cases that may translate well in a fairytale aspect of playful misdemeanors, Lola wanted substance, something tangible to pull in the judges’ interests. As she gathered enough information, she would know in which direction to craft her words.

One such person she wanted to interview first was her former retail manager Stacy. Lola had spent a sizeable amount of time as an associate of the boutique Lotions and Potions, and had a few experiences of her own in her pocket to pull from if need be, but Stacy swore up and down that the place was actively haunted, sharing her stories daily of what went bump in the night. Stacy tended to lean on the side of over-exaggeration, but Lola wouldn’t discount any leads if the potential to find a nugget of inspiration rested somewhere in the spinning of a yarn, so onwards confidently she marched, notebook in one hand, coffee in the other, and entered the establishment filled with buttermilk and bubble bath.

The familiar chime sounding as she walked through the door brought a smile to her face, however, seeing Stacy on her hands and knees in front of a cabinet of decorative glass bottles had her frowning. A clumping of paper towels and a wastebasket at an elbow told Lola that, at least, nothing dire had happened.

“Do you need some help?” Lola asked, setting her belongings on the checkout counter as she fully entered the store. Stacy glanced up from her position, giving her head a slight shake, crookedly smiling at the former employee.

“You don’t work here anymore, Lola, it’s no longer your job to help clean up spills,” Stacy remarked, carefully scooping up a glob of lavender scented lotion mixed with glass shards.

“That doesn’t mean I can’t help out a friend.” Lola went to get the cleaning supplies on hand stowed in a nearby cabinet drawer for emergencies such as these. She handed the bottle of cleaner to Stacy while she herself took up a broom to gather fly away chunks of glass. “I didn’t mean to catch you at a bad time. What happened?”

“Oh, nothing out of the ordinary,” Stacy sighed, spraying down the ceramic tiled floor, cleaning up the last of the mess. “A bottle of lotion leapt off the shelf is all.”

“Really? That’s wonderful!” Lola grasped the broom tightly to her chest in delight, a beaming smile lighting up her eyes as she turned excitedly to the woman still crawling on the ground.

“Well, you don’t have to sound so excited about it,” Stacy informed. “I mean, product isn’t cheap, you know. I’ll be out of business if things keep flying off my shelves only to have them break on my floor.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Lola frantically apologized. “It’s just…I couldn’t ask for more perfect timing. May I record you?”

“Record me? What…?” Stacy watched flabbergasted as Lola rushed to her purse resting on the checkout counter, rummaging deep within the numerous confines before emerging with a portable tape recorder. Lola immediately rushed back over to her former manager, sliding to her knees, shoving the recorder up close to a bewildered Stacy’s face.

“How did the bottle fly off the shelf? Did you hear a noise prior to it falling, or after? Like, maybe a thumping, dragging sound? Was there an ominous presence before it happened? Did you see a shadow figure? Do you believe this was the work of the Hobblin’ Goblin?”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Stacy laughed, rearing back on her haunches, straightening away from Lola’s tape recorder and barrage of strange questions. She couldn’t help but find humor in Lola’s exuberance. “Ease up there, gumshoe. Are you playing detective now, or something?”

“I’m in the middle of an investigation for the creative arts,” Lola declared seriously.

“Sounds important.” Stacy got to her feet, taking with her the wastebasket and cleaning implements, stowing the items behind the main counter, Lola a closely following shadow.

“So, about this incident with the lotion bottle…do you think it was a prank caused by the notoriously reputable Hobblin’ Goblin?” While leaning over the counter, Lola held her tape recorder out to Stacy. “Try to speak slowly and clearly. And enunciate,” she added, demonstrating her instructions in the same manner she wished her friend to speak.

“Why are you asking so many questions about the Hobblin’ Goblin? And why are you using a tape recorder? Do they even make tapes anymore? There is a thing called ‘digital’, you know.”

“First of all Stanley,” Lola began, indicating her tape recorder’s name, “has been with me since the beginning. He was there when I got scared by a bird that one time during an evening stakeout.”

“When did you---?”

“Secondly,” Lola interrupted, “I’m asking these questions because I’m working on a story about the Hobblin’ Goblin. Weird things happen in here all the time, and I wanted to get some of your stories and see if they line up with our local legend and his patterns for hauntings.”

“Well, that makes sense,” Stacy said with a smile. “I’d be glad to talk about the hauntings that happen here. I have plenty of stories to share.”

“Great!” Lola cheered. “Let’s get started with what happened right before I walked in.”

“Oh, that was nothing,” Stacy stated, waving her hand dismissively at the cabinet full of fancy lotions. “That was probably a case in gravity, if I’m honest. The truly weird things come about in the early mornings when I’m trying to get the store ready to open.”

“Tell me about these weird things.” Even with her recorder rolling, Lola still took handwritten notes to capture important details in the moment so as not to miss an idea that could be overlooked when reviewing the tape several hours later.

“For starters, it’s like I’m being watched,” Stacy described. “I can feel eyes on me, observing me, and it’s very unnerving. Sometimes I hear footsteps following behind me, and when I turn around to look, there’s no one there.”

“What kind of footsteps? Is there a limp? Are they heavy set? Quick?”

“More of a gentle shuffling,” Stacy clarified. Lola frowned while marking in her notebook.

“The Hobblin’ Goblin is supposed to walk with a crutch, so his step pattern should be different than ‘normal’ sounding footsteps,” Lola voiced her thought aloud. “Is there anything else out of the ordinary that you can think of? Maybe something that pertains to the goblin himself?”

Stacy thought hard, trying to recall occurrences of the abnormal befalling her boutique. “Sometimes I hear breathing,” she said at last. “And sometimes, things will fly off the shelves. I’ve had the record player cut off on me once or twice as well.”

All of Stacy’s stories sounded more of a casual haunt than specifically that of a trickster, the activity appearing more benign as opposed to mischievous. Lola wanted to stay as open minded and unbiased as possible as she asked her questions to help form her story, but she was honestly hoping for something more lively and extraordinary. “Can you tell me of anything…fun?”

“Fun?” repeated Stacy.

“I mean, has anything…I don’t know…silly…happened in the time you’ve experienced these haunts? The Hobblin’ Goblin is a light hearted trickster, he plays pranks. Do things go missing only to turn up in the most random places? Do the lights flicker as if to say ‘hello’?”

“I had a pen thrown at me,” Stacy shared. “I wouldn’t necessarily call that ‘fun’, but it was the most out of the ordinary incident to have happen to me.”

Lola perked up at hearing the news. “What were you doing when that happened?”

“Actually, I was talking with a customer about the Hobblin’ Goblin a few days ago,” Stacy recalled, the memory of the conversation returning to her mind. “When it happened, I just laughed, figuring he must not have appreciated what it was I had been saying.”

“What did you say?” Lola’s sparkle was back in her eyes as she eagerly listened to what Stacy had to tell.

“I said I thought that he was childish, and that there were a lot more scary things out in the world than an imp who merely liked to play tricks.”

“Oh, Stacy,” Lola admonished, clicking her tongue reprovingly. “That was cruel.”

“How was I being cruel?”

“You said his pranks were childish like it was a bad thing,” Lola pouted. “Goblins are generally mischievous, and you insulted him. I think you might even have gone as far as to hurt his feelings.”

Stacy laughed. “Why am I not surprised that you would defend the Hobblin’ Goblin?” The door chime announced a new arrival walking into the boutique as the friends were sharing a laugh. Stacy looked over Lola’s shoulder to greet the person, smiling friendly as she recognized the mail carrier. “Good morning, Joyce.”

“Good morning, Stacy. Morning, Lola,” the mail woman greeted. “I haven’t seen you in a while, little miss. How’s tricks? Staying out of trouble?”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Lola jest. “Hey, Joyce, do you have any stories of being pranked by the Hobblin’ Goblin?” Lola turned her recorder towards the mail woman, prepared to document the newest insights into her subject matter.

“I have no time to deal with pranks,” Joyce stated. “I deliver the mail, and go about my day peacefully. I don’t call upon the Hobblin’ Goblin to play his tricks on me.”

“Meaning, she’s afraid of him,” Stacy snidely commented good humoredly.

“I respect the spirits, Stacy,” Joyce quipped in return with a smile, no malice exchanging between the two friends. “Why are you asking?” she then asked Lola.

“I’m doing research for a story about the goblin, and I wanted him to have some authenticity to his character,” she answered.

“I see. Just be careful where you go poking around,” cautioned Joyce. “You don’t want to inadvertently stir up trouble.”

“Actually, I think she does,” Stacy teased.

“More or less,” Lola agreed. “Thank you for your concern, Joyce. I’ll make sure I’m careful,” she promised.

“You’ve got a good heart, Lola, I’m confident you’ll be safe.” Reaching into her mailbag, she passed a handful of envelopes and a newspaper to Stacy. “You be careful, too.”

“I haven’t done anything wrong,” Stacy defended.

“Yet, but I know you also like to go looking for trouble. Have a nice day, ladies.” With a tip of her hat, and a wink of an eye, Joyce left the boutique.

“I should probably get going, too,” Lola sighed, shutting off her recorder and gathering her belongings. “I was going to see if maybe Mr. Jasons would be interested in sharing some of his stories next. Thanks for letting me bother you.”

“You weren’t bothering me in the slightest,” Stacy assured as she began filing through her mail. “Oh, hey, look at this,” she said, unfolding the newspaper to read. “The old train yard at the Miners Museum made the front page.”

“Neato,” Lola responded automatically, only half listening as she slung her purse over her shoulder, her mind already on her next objective.

“Oh, my God! Someone was attacked!”

“Wait, what?” Stacy’s declaration fully captured Lola’s attention. “What happened?”

Stacy’s eyes furiously scanned the front page, speed reading as much of the information as she could. “The police aren’t sure,” she shared after a breathless pause. “They say a security guard was pushed down while chasing away some kids during the middle of the nightshift rounds. He hit his head on the railway of the old mine train. He has a major concussion and a fractured skull.”

“That’s horrible,” Lola gasped.

“It continues to say that another guard found him in the train yard shortly after he fell. No evidence, however, of the kids, allegedly, playing around the site could be found,” Stacy concluded.

“Poor guy,” Lola sympathized. “Are they sure it was kids mucking about, and that he didn’t just accidently trip?”

“Looks like it,” she validated, continuing to rove the paper. “The second guard states the first guard, the victim, went to go chase away the kids playing by the mineshaft when they saw flashing lights from the security monitors. Here’s a picture of the scene.” Stacy turned the paper around for Lola to see the front page where a photo of the old steam engine and mine were pictured, and with it, just on the outer margins, was the backdrop of the Dead Forest. Lola felt a chill creep down her spine as she looked at the newspaper. Something ominous radiated from the main image, and she squinted critically at the photo, taking the paper to examine the image closer where a shadowed form blending into the tree line, a darker mass of shapes, hovered half-cropped out of frame. The anomaly warranted further investigation, and Lola knew just the person from whom she wanted a second opinion.

“Do you mind if I hang onto this?”

“You can keep it,” Stacy offered. “I don’t read much from the paper anymore.”

“Thanks,” Lola said distantly, her eyes glued on the blurry, pixelated blob. She began to turn and leave when Stacy summoned her back.

“Little witch,” she called. Lola blinked, focusing on Stacy. “Are you planning on flying out of here, or may I have my broom back?”

“Hmm? Oh! My bad,” Lola chuckled, embarrassed. “Sorry about that.” Lola leaned the broomstick she had been holding onto since helping clean up the broken bottle against a cabinet. “I didn’t even realize I’d still been holding it.”

“It’s hard for a witch to hide what comes naturally,” Stacy joked, giving Lola a look that spoke of amusement.

“Thanks for not blowing my cover,” Lola kidded back. “And thanks again for sharing your time and stories with me, I really do appreciate it.”

“Of course. Don’t be a stranger.” The two waved their goodbyes, and Lola stepped out onto the historic cobblestone, once more lost in the picture of her newspaper.

“There’s just something ‘off’ about this picture,” Lola murmured to herself. “I can’t put my finger on it, but I’m hoping Modesta can.” Folding the newspaper back into its original shape, Lola cradled the bundle into the crook of her arm along with her notebook, her coffee in one hand, and set her confident march towards her friend’s shop of Curios and Oddities.

~~~~~~~~~~

[starkeristheendgame]

Prompt tony giving peter a wedgie just to be a little shit and finds peter wearing iron man boxers

Whelp, I guess I’m back and writing :’) Thank you sm for this prompt! This is kind of an IM1/2 era prompt, where Peter is basically Pepper and is Tony’s long-suffering but doting assistant. No trigger warnings for this, unless you’ve had a series wedgie-related trauma in the past. 

“Mr. Stark, you can’t just-" 

"I’m sorry, what? What did you just say? I don’t understand the word that didn’t just come out of your mouth, because nobody tells me I can’t do anything. I’m Tony Stark, I can do whatever I want,” the self-mentioned genius spun on his heel as he backed into the room, arms spread and a lopsided, friendly smirk on his mouth as he tossed his apple from one hand to the other. 

He spun back around as he crunched into it, free hand flying in all sorts of gestures that pulled holograms from one corner of the room to the other. 

“Yes, congratulations, you know your own name,” Peter responded wryly, stepping inside after him and through each hologram that his boss tossed in his direction in a valiant attempt to keep him at bay. “But you absolutely can’t-" 

"Ah? What was that? That word? Began with a ‘c’, I’m pretty sure. Doesn’t apply to me. Like, ever. Unless its in the context of eating olives. In which case, I can’t. shan’t, and won’t.”

A slender hand stretched through a scaled-down hologram of the Tower and gripped the front of the genius’ shirt in a tight first, dragging him forwards until he was staring into a pair of stormy, dark eyes. 

“Anthony Edward Stark. You are not going to make a cast of your own penis and market it as the 'Iron Rod’,” his personal assistant growled, and it was truly the eighth wonder of the world that he said it was a completely straight face. 

“Ah, but you didn’t say I couldn’t make one and market it at all,” Tony countered, and he could feel the threat of bodily harm radiating from the younger man. In fact if he looked close enough into his eyes, he could see a tiny reflection of himself getting beaten to death with his own suit. 

He wriggled free of the vice-like grip Peter had on his shirt and darted out of reach, stretching for a hologram of his aforementioned body part. Peter emerged from the hologram behind him, mouth open and ready to argue before he snapped it shut and slapped his hand over his eyes, spinning away with a sound of disgust. 

“This violates so many workplace laws,” the younger man muttered, and Tony gave a low hum. Was he agreeing? Probably. Tony hadn’t read a Stark Industries contract since Pepper had finalised them all for official use. Frankly, he wouldn’t have even read them then, but she’d physically sat down next to him to make sure he read every. Single. Word. 

It had been tedious and boring and to top it off, she’d even confiscated his glasses on the off-chance he’d fitted them with software again to play Angry Birds. (He had.)

“Do you think the body should be red and the tip be gold? Or the other way around?” Tony asked thoughtfully, and made an affronted noise when the hologram splintered out of existence before him. He’d been intending to work on that, thank you. But then gentle fingertips were brushing his jaw, turning his head with careful tenderness until he was blinking back into those whiskey eyes. Peter had such long, lovely lashes. Tony wanted to count every single one. 

“Tony. When was the last time you ate?” Peter asked, voice impossibly soft, and Tony made another quiet sound, shrugging lightly as he looked away, off into the distance. That was a nice wall. The perfect wall. Had that wall always been there? 

“That depends. What day is it?” he answered, nose scrunching, and he could feel Peter’s gentle exhale across his cheek. 

“Friday,” Peter responded flatly, and those featherlight fingers were sliding from his jaw, down to his arm where the smaller man took hold and began to steer him straight back towards the door he’d only just walked through. 

“Which means I’m making you a sandwich and then you’re going to bed.”

“How does not eating equate to being banished to bed like a toddler?” Tony argued, but he went willingly anyway, because he was a sucker for a pretty face and a pout. Honestly, hiring Peter Parker was the worst thing he could have ever done to himself. 

He’d essentially hired the one person that could actually make him do anything. Besides Pepper, of course, but then she’d gone and gotten pregnant and now she worked in Public Relations, a much calmer department that meant she could largely work from home and keep an eye on her little… Spawn. 

“When you’re a grown ass man that needs to be treated like one,” Peter fired back, nudging him into the elevator. Tony opened his mouth, but the younger man rounded on him. “And don’t even think about trying to weasel out of it through JARVIS. He’ll just agree with me,” Peter warned. 

“In this instance, Sir, I’m inclined to agree with Mr. Parker,” his treacherous, disloyal AI remarked from around them, and Tony closed his mouth slowly with a scowl. That’s what you got for giving an AI the gift of free will, he supposed. It bit you on the ass and agreed with your spitfire of a personal assistant/colleague. 

“This sandwich better have salami in it,” he muttered darkly. Peter simply cast him a sideways, softly amused glance, and pushed him out of the elevator when they arrived at the penthouse. It had apparently been cleaned since Tony was last here, and it was also apparently overcast today, which meant either the New York weather had turned in the last ten minutes, or it truly had been a considerable amount of time since he’d last looked out of the windows. 

Guiltily, he noted it was more likely to be the latter. Someone (Peter) had tidied away all of the tools and random bits of tech scattered around, and someone (Peter) had cleared up from his last round of coffees and his poor attempt at making himself a snack some days (?) prior. 

He let himself be prodded into a chair at the kitchen island, and crossed his ankles as he swung his lungs, leaning on the bar and doing his best to look cute as Peter rounded it and made for the fridge. Looking cute helped kids and animals get out of trouble, why not attractive billionaires with supersuits? 

He watched curiously as Peter pulled a variety of items from the fridge, and the sauce rack at its side. Burger sauce, mustard, sliced roast beef, pepperoni slices, mixed salad lettuce, American cheese and a crusty, round loaf of Italian bread. Tony’s brows raised. That was… Quite the combination. 

“I could make a plug and call it the Arse Reactor,” he suggested after a short while had passed, and Peter pressed down so hard on the knife it almost bit into the cutting board. The petite man cast him a glare over his shoulder and Tony raised his hands in surrender, biting back a shit-eating grin as he watched the flex of Peter’s arms and shoulders. When did Peter ever find the time to work out? 

“Eat,” Peter’s gentle voice interrupted his distracted thoughts, and Tony blinked down in surprise at the plate that was pushed gently between his propped elbows. He could have sworn it was only two seconds ago Peter was cutting up the ingredients… But, he had to admit, the sandwich looked mouthwatering. 

He picked it up dutifully and took a bite as Peter turned away, reaching for the fridge once more. An explosion of flavour hit his tongue and he moaned, chewing his mouthful like it was an act of worship. Across the island, Peter cracked a small, almost shy smile, and poured a cracked the tab on a can of soda. 

“I’m marrying this sandwich” Tony announced when Peter came close enough to slide him the drink, and the other man rolled his eyes, but looked suitably bashful. That one initial taste had suddenly altered Tony to just how hungry he actually was, and he shamelessly scarfed the beast of a meal down, aware of the fact that Peter watched him the entire time, leaning against the kitchen island with this impossible soft expression on his face. When Tony had licked his lips clean of crumbs, Peter took the plate, heading over to the sink where he began to run the hot water. 

“I have a dish washer for that,” Tony remarked, and he couldn’t see it, but he knew the man had rolled his eyes. Peter did it whenever Tony said anything that pertained to his 'rich, white man privilege.’ It didn’t earn a verbal response, though, and Tony managed another nine seconds before the silence had him twitching and squirming in place, sniffing as he adjusted his seating position and arm placement. 

“I bet you’d buy one, if I did. Or even better, I could just send you an Iron Rod fresh from the factory,” Tony remarked, and his mouth was still open enough at the end of the sentence to catch the soap sud that Peter flicked at him. 

“I am not going to own a cast of my boss’ dick, you pervert,” Peter huffed in response, and Tony sucked air between his teeth in the universal signal of ouch. 

“Why not? Its just a casting. I highly doubt there’s anything about that written in any contract-” knowing Pepper, there absolutely would be, “-and who knows? It could be the best ride of your life,” he tossed out, intently watching the way that Peter’s spine curved as he focused on the task at hand. His assistant squeaked a laugh and shook his head. 

“Oh, I doubt it. You’re probably unremarkably average,” Peter shot back, and oh. Game on, Parker. Tony moved silently from the chair, padding one step at a time like a predator on the prowl. 

“We both know I’m not,” he hummed, keeping his voice level and quiet so it wouldn’t give away the fact that he was moving closer. Peter hesitated for a moment in his scrubbing, and deflated slightly. Tony was right, and they both knew it. Peter had seen him naked far too many times to have any other conception. 

“Okay, you’re not. But I’m still not buying one.”

“I think you want to. And you’re afraid I know you want to,” Tony purred into Peter’s ear, shameless teasing and victory in his voice at the way the boy locked up like he’d just stepped on a landmine. 

“What makes you say that?” Peter asked after a moment, voice faux-light and cheery as he scrubbed at a non-existent mark on the plate. 

“Because you’ve been scrubbing the same plate for the past five minutes, and all I ate was a sandwich,” Tony pointed out, reaching over to take the sponge away from Peter. Peter made a sound vaguely like he was dying, and turned the water off, shoving the plate almost violently into the drying rack. 

“Its called good hygiene, maybe if you did the dishes now and then you’d know it,” Peter responded smartly, turning to face him as he spoke. His assistant raised his arm, pointing past him and towards the steps that led to Tony’s room. 

“Bed. Now,” he instructed, and it was purely because Tony was feeling generous (honestly) that he complied, turning on his heel to stroll off towards his room. 

“I wouldn’t think any less of you, y'know. I’d be quite flattered,” he remarked casually, and jolted when a magazine hit him on the back of the head. “That’s assault. Pretty sure you’re in violation of the workplace law” he teased, and relished in the soft, despaired groan that sounded from behind him as he bounded up the steps like a puppy. 

Once inside his luxurious room, he tugged his shirt over his head and threw it onto his sheets, disappearing into the bathroom to brush his teeth. He ought to shower, but he figured he could do that when he woke up. 

“Don’t forget eye drops,” Peter’s voice rang out from his room when he’d rinsed his toothbrush and his mouth, and Tony paused mid-way to the door, stepping backwards to peer into the massive mirror wall. He prodded at one of his eyes thoughtfully, blinking. Huh. They did look a little dry, and feel a little raw. 

So purely of his own accord, he dripped a few drops in each one and waved off the light in the bathroom, peering cautiously around the corner to find Peter stood opposite his walk-in closet, carefully reorganising all the clothes Tony had skewed around. 

He was eccentric, not gross, thank you very much. Just because he was awake for 82 hours at a time, didn’t mean he didn’t change his clothes and brush his teeth. 

“Now that I-”

“If this has anything to do with your dildo, I swear to God,” Peter threatened, pointing at him with a clothes clip before sliding the powder blue shirt into it carefully. Tony couldn’t even remember buying that shirt, let alone removing it from its place. His hands went to his belt to unbuckle it as he padded closer. 

“Now that I think about it, I can understand why you don’t want one,” he offered gently, voice sincere and soft. Peter paused dubiously, fingers stilling over the soft sweater he was hanging, and then relaxed, slotting it back onto the bar where it dangled with the rest of its garment family. 

“Thank you, Mr. Stark,” Peter noted quietly. 

“Its because there’s so much up your ass already, there wouldn’t be any room,” Tony tacked on casually, fingers curling expertly around the band of gold he could see peeking out from atop the boy’s tight jeans, where his shirt had ridden up as he stretched. 

There was enough time for him to note how soft his skin was where he brushed it, for Peter’s breath to hitch on the beginning of a protest, and then Tony’s arm flexed as he yanked the band upwards, driving the material of Peter’s boxers right up between his asscheeks. It actually lifted the boy up onto his toes, hands flying out to brace himself on the wall and - 

“Huh,” Tony voiced aloud, over the whimper-whelp that leapt from Peter’s throat. 

Peter Parker was wearing a pair of very eye-catching, rather bold Iron Man boxers. The waistband was gold, edged with red, and Tony could see the tips of what he presumed were gauntleted handprints on each round, plump cheek. 

“Anthony fucking Edwar-!” Peter seethed, and Tony twisted the material in his grip, hitching it even further against the younger man. It had to be right against his sensitive little hole by now, uncomfortable and rubbing. 

“I didn’t realise I was already up your ass, darling,” Tony grinned, brow lifting as he stepped closer, closer, until Peter was pressed against the wall, held there by Tony’s grip and the teasing proximity of his body. He could feel the way Peter started to tremble, and he might have felt bad if he wasn’t pretty clued on to the fact that Peter wasn’t actually offended. Well. Not as offended as he was trying to make out. 

“Though of course, that statement isn’t quite as accurate as I think we’d both like it to be,” he noted, gaze falling down, down to where his own brand stretched around a fat, plump set of asscheeks. He praised himself for how long he’d gone without doing anything; even Pepper had taken one look at Peter during his interview and immediately demanded Tony keep his hands to himself. 

“You’re an asshole and a fiend,” Peter grumbled, though Tony knew him well enough to know there was a smile on his mouth as he spoke, head turning against the wall slightly to make it more comfortable. He hadn’t moved from his position, even though he could quite well have pushed Tony’s hand aside and moved away. Yet he stayed pinned, like a good little trapped prey. 

“I could be worse,” Tony drawled, letting go of Peter’s underwear so that it snapped back against his hips with a satisfying sound that had the smaller man’s hips jolting forwards against the wall with a hiss. Tony didn’t back away, though. 

He pressed in closer, slotting their bodies together gently. And oh, what a perfect fit it was. Peter’s smaller frame, blanketed and pressed against by his own, his hips perfect for gripping where Tony’s large hands came to rest on them. 

“Tell me to stop and I will,” Tony murmured, lowering his head to nuzzle at the slope of Peter’s shoulder. He did nothing more, just lazily nuzzled at the muscle there, the delicate curve of his neck, breathing in the boy’s scent and relishing in the chance to finally, finally touch. Peter breathed out heavily, lowering himself back onto the flat of his feet and leaning just slightly back into Tony’s careful hold. 

“If you don’t tell me stop, I’m going to strip you of everything except for the those boxers, and I’m gonna push them aside to eat you out through them,” he added, quiet, promising. 

Peter twitched underneath him, a choked off sound cracking on his tongue as he reached back, digging his fingers into Tony’s hip to drag him forwards, coaxing him into rolling his hips, dragging his cock along the groove of Peter’s ass, where his underwear was still hiked up between those tempting globes of muscle. 

“If you stop, I'll resign,” Peter demanded, reaching for Tony’s hair so he could drag him down and kiss that stupid, smug smirk off his face. 

[vespertine-legacy]

Spirit of Vengeance Walkthrough

Welcome to my (hot-mess) attempt at a walkthrough of the Spirit of Vengeance flashpoint.

This walkthrough will mostly pertain to Story Mode difficulty, as I have yet to run Veteran or Master mode (hoping to get some guildmates to run it with me once they’ve gotten through the story content), but my expectation is that they’re mostly just harder mobs and no kolto stations in Master.

Obviously, there will be spoilers ahead for the 6.2 flashpoint.

If you do Solo-Story mode (the Cinematic Story version where you have the default companion, thankfully now set at influence level 25 instead of 1), you’ll notice that this default companion is ranged. That’s probably a hint as to the type of companion you might want to bring with you on the other difficulty levels. It seems that, as the name implies, you cannot bring group members into solo-story mode, so hopefully in that mode, you won’t encounter too many bugs or issues. Story mode has been stealth patched some to not be too terrible, but lots of players are still having difficulty and running into glitches.

One of the biggest themes of this flashpoint is that there are a lot of mobs. It’s been compared to an uprising, but there are bigger breaks between mobs. Though it is really easy to get the 75, 150, and 300 kills achievements for Varad, Dar’manda, and Ash’ad.

You start out on the Champion’s Glory, and when you run down the hallway, you run right into a Varad mob. You can stick along the right-hand-side wall to not immediately trigger them if you want. In Varad mobs, Bloodsworn are healers, Beskaryc are standard silvers, Hulks are standard golds with a decently nasty knockback, and Hounds are their puppies (you’ve seen them before in Mandalorian Raiders). Nothing much to watch out for with them. There’s one Bloodsworn in the first mob in the room who likes to glitch and be stuck up on a pillar where you can’t target him and can only reach him with AOEs.

Before you leave the first room, there is a Relic for the Relic Hunter achievements here. On one of the tables in the north east corner, you’ll find the Heirloom Varad Warstaff. However, it may be glitchy, and it may not show up. I took my Jedi Knight and my Trooper into the room four times each and it never showed up, but my Bounty Hunter got it on the first try. (The Relics will not be visible in my screenshots since I’ve already collected them, but I’d like to give an idea of location).

Continuing down the hallway, you’ll encounter some more mobs, and you’ll see your first kolto station. You’ll probably use these in at least one of the boss fights.

After fighting a biggish mob in the final room, you’ll see a big blue console to disable the first boarding tether. Before clicking it, make note of the three kolto stations around the room, since you may end up needing at least one of them. Disabling the tether summons the first boss, Gorga Brak. He has almost 3 million health, which is maybe a little absurd, but he’s not really thaaaaaaat bad, you’re just in for a long, boring fight. He does Full Auto, Flame Sweep, and Fire Bomb. Remember when I said you might want a ranged companion? Don’t quote me on this, but I think he’s less likely to put the Fire Bomb on a ranged companion. Also I thought for a while that Fire Bomb couldn’t be interrupted, but then I was able to interrupt one of them, so I’m not sure anymore. Maybe you can only interrupt it if it’s targeting you? You can interrupt Flame Sweet and Full Auto, both of which are kind of annoying. Anyway, depending on your dps output, [Spongebob Narrator voice] Several Minutes Later, you will kill Gorga Brak. On to the next ship by clicking a panel by one of the boarding pods in the next room.

Now you’re on the Dar’manda ship, the Fortune’s Folly, and everything is on fire. Fire bad. As soon as you move, a mob runs in. At least the Dar’manda have the decency for the healers to be labeled “medics.” Commit war crimes and kill the medics first. Next on your kill list should be specialists because they throw some grenades and Fire Bombs and shit that are just annoying.

In the room with the big holes in the floor, just stick to the right-hand-side in order to do the least jumping and potential falling. Turn off sprint if you’re worried. Your companion may just leap to their death because companions Be Like That sometimes, but there’s a platform at the end with a med droid where you can re-summon them. There is a lore item on the south side of the room before you go across, a little datapad.

After crossing the Gaps of Doom, you’ll start seeing yellow NPC nametags for War Profiteers and Dancers. Try not to kill any of them, because if you manage not to, you’ll get an achievement (alternatively, try to kill all of them, maybe there’s an achievement for killing all of the innocent [read, “innocent”] bystanders on the Dar’manda ship). You’ll have to be carefully with AOEs and DOTs, because my pyrotech’s scorch jumped to a LOT of yellows…

The next room has a lot of enemies and a lot of yellows, so depending on how much you want the Mercy achievement, be careful. On your way out of the room, be sure to grab the Flask of Aged Kri’gee from the floor beside one of the benches by the door on the east side for the Dar’manda Relic.

When you get to the Officer’s Quarters, you can pick up the Bonus Mission. If you go into the little side rooms, on the south, there are some biggish mobs there, but there are also two blue crates to click by some of the beds which have keys in them, which gives you the bonus mission Goldie’s Locks. This is for the bonus mission to fight Goldie, a Rancor the Dar’manda are transporting. You might as well pick it up, because even if you don’t pick up the keys, getting too close to Goldie’s cage starts the fight with her, and she’ll be able to kill you but you won’t be able to damage her (features, amiright?).

The room with the second boarding tether has a largish mob and Goldie. Depending on your class, your companion, and your armor rating, you may end up needing one of the kolto stations in the room, but if you do, be very careful that you don’t run close to Goldie’s cage, or you will engage the fight with her, which you’ll have to /stuck out of most likely because her cage door will still be closed and you won’t be able to open it to fight her, but she’ll still be able to kill the shit out of you.

The fight with Goldie is relatively simple. She’s like most of the other Rancor fights--think of the Rancor in the Battle of Rishi or Karagga’s Palace if you’re familiar with either of those. She does an alley attack that you can step out of, but a conal attack that whoever she is targeting has to just eat because it can’t be interrupted, so just point it away from the group (it’s a knockback, but it’s not awful. Her slam isn’t as bad as Bonethrasher’s slam. If you’re on a more mobile dps class, she’ll be a piece of cake. If you have to stand still to do your dps, you may get a little annoyed by her, but it’s not too bad (sorry, snipers and slingers).

There’s also a datapad with lore in the room with Goldie:

On to your next boss fight! Bask Sunn got stealth-nerfed some, but is still a little glitchy (can apparently punch you off the ship entirely according to one report?). Most people’s tactic is to kill his adds first, then take him out. I’ll say though, on my pyrotech, I just put a scorch on each of the four adds, then kicked his ass in about seven seconds, then took out the adds (and on my lightning sorc, I also just focused the boss, doing some AOE damage to the adds, but mostly just burning Bask). So, it’s really up to you. The adds don’t do a whole lot of damage, but they’re annoying, and while they did lower the damage Bask Sunn can do, he can still knock your health down a lot, so I found it easier to just Burn Him (literally, in the case of my PT). My PT was being healed by a level 1 influence Shae Vizla and my sorc was being healed by a level 50 influence Ginx, and both had a great time with just burning the boss, but your mileage may vary on this fight.

For a good time, there are a ton of places you can stand on the bridge and be in the Skybox as I like to call it and just look out into space. When you’re done goofing off, click the panel to go to the Ash’ad ship.

Welcome to the Seeker’s Vigil. In the Ash’ad mobs that greet you, Lorekeepers are healers, and Seekers have an attack called “Surge” with a box that looks like it ought to be a knockback, but either I killed them too quick or it doesn’t actually do shit, so those are your priority targets. Maybe on Veteran and Master step out of it, just in case.

In the “Archives” level of the Seeker’s Vigil, straight west from the door you come out of, there’s a bench with a little toy tauntaun Lore Item on it.

There’s some mobs in the middle of the room that aren’t too bad. Then, if you have a self-yeet to enemy target (Warrior/Knight Force Charge/Force Leap; Powertech/Vanguard Jet Charge/Storm; Assassin/Shadow Phantom Stride/Shadow Stride, but those may be unreliable just because they sometimes like to mess with you when you’re changing elevation; Operative/Scoundrel Holotraverse/Trick Move, similarly may not work since you’ll be changing elevation) you can go upstairs to the Lorekeepers. You can’t get around the debris on the ramp to get up there, you have to yeet up to them (or if you’re in a group and someone else can yeet to them, and then you’ve got a Yeet to Friend, or someone’s got a yoink, etc.), but there’s some cool stuff to look at up there. There isn’t anything to collect that I could find, but just neat stuff to look at.

Next up is The Trap. Don’t run willy nilly into this room. There are lore objects on either side of the room, but there are also two Annoying Snipers on the other end of the room who will engage with you as soon as you run in. You can’t hurt them and you can’t yeet to them, so don’t bother. There are plenty of things you can take cover behind, so run over to the lore objects and click them while you’re not being sniped. The snipe interrupts the “cast” on collecting the lore, so time your click carefully, or prepare to be annoyed. Then, run into the trap, because like I said, you can’t fight the snipers. I’ve placed markers of where the floor will fall. Depending on your graphics settings, it’s pretty obvious when the floor is going to fall out from under you, but just in case. It’s also approximately the edge of where the snipers would be in range of most attacks if your attacks would actually work.

If the fall hurts you too much, you can run up the ramp and hide behind some shipping crates for a bit to get out of range of the tentacles for a moment.

The Ash’ad Relic, the Ajak Genealogical Datacron, is in the boss room of this ship. It’s on a crate behind the boss (south east end of the boss, behind the tether controls). It’s pretty easy to miss, so don’t forget to grab it before you leave. You can run over and grab it before engaging the boss if you keep to the edge of the room.

Troya Ajak is a pretty easy fight. Songbird’s Volley knocks you back when it goes off. Pick Off (which I definitely read as “fuck off” while it was casting) blows you up a little when it goes off. I don’t even know if either of these are interruptable, because this was a pretty straightforward “get the boss’s HP to zero before they get your HP to zero” fight.

All righty. Almost done! Now you get some mobs that are mixed groups of all the clans you’ve fought so far. Remember the healers are: Varad Bloodsworn, Dar’manda Medics, and Ash’ad Lorekeepers, so if you see them, they need to go first. The ones that do special ouchie attacks are Dar’manda Specialists and Ash’ad Sharpshooters (honestly the Varad suck and we’ve known this since Mandalorian Raiders; you tried, gold star for effort). The rest of them, just kill them when you can. On to the boss!

Heta Kol will come down and fight you for a little while, then she’ll get buttmad and fly off while some adds come to the door. If you’re ranged, go ahead and stay on the platform to take them out. If you’re melee try to draw them into the room. Some have said that what resets her health when she comes back down is you leaving the room to fight the adds (but the adds like to run back into the hallway, and if you don’t have ranged attacks or a taunt, you might have to chase them; now might be a good time for your saber throws, your grenades, whatever your longest-range attack is).

The second wave of attacks does bring down Sharpshooters (aka snipers) on the platform, so if you’re focusing on the hallway adds and getting confused as to why your HP is still dropping, try turning around, because there may still be someone sniping you. Her move “Lockdown” can be interrupted, and if you don’t interrupt it, you’ll be dropping red circles from it that you want to stay out of. She throws grenades at someone in the last phase, and it seems to be whoever is closest to her (hello, ranged companion!), and it doesn’t seem like you can cleanse them off (or maybe you can, but then you need to, you know, get out of the circle it drops, and companions are too dumb to do that).

Overall, not a terrible flashpoint, just a little on the long side, and a lot to take in. I’m still excited to try it on the harder difficulty modes, and to find all of the hidden achievements, which there seem to be several spots for.

[project-rebirth]

A Certain Magical Index: Rebirth Testament II - Plotline Arc Master Post

I was going to put all of the ones from Series 2 and the others going forward, but I felt like it would make this list too long. So I decided to just do Series 2 for now and do the others later.

Master Post: Arcs & Storylines

This is going to be a post concerning all of the content that is planned for the future on this blog. A Certain Magical Index: Rebirth Testament is a series with the main theme of discovery, discovery of the unknown, discovery of new concepts and certain characters and what they represent. As such, some arcs will be focused on certain characters, (It could be your muse, another muse of mine or both) learning more about Kamijou Touma and who he is as a person,as he is someone who tries to save as many people as possible. Some will be focused on the Magic Side being discovered by some, the same for the Science Side, and especially the Meta Side (The side that introduces alien worlds, persons or other assorted phenomena).

With this said, most of these will be plotted out, especially the more darker and serious storylines that will be detailed here today, while there are some that are exclusive to certain mutuals of mine, as their characters, elements and/or setting will be one of the main focuses.

A Certain Magical Index: Rebirth Testament II

The Shadow King Arc (In progress)

In this arc, it's about two weeks since the Holy Grail War ended and peace has returned to Academy City, however, a multi-universal ethereal entity called the Shadow King has set its sights on Earth, specifically, Academy City and has already taken control of several Espers including, Shokuhou Misaki: the #5 Level 5 Esper and the strongest Telepath. Touma and co. must stop this entity from initiating its plans of taking over the planet.

Agnese Hunting Arc (In progress)

Agnese Sanctis, along with Sister Angeline and Sister Lucia are being pursued by a pair of twins who bear a striking resemblance to the 1st Ranked Level 5. They seek shelter from Touma who agrees to help them flee Academy City after they were sent to investigate a being known as the God Hunter. When Touma finds out what's actually going on, who the God Hunter is and what the Church plans to do, can he help them reach a compromise before the real enemy makes their move? Pertains to @xbloodsoakedx​.

Element Kingdom Arc

Touma suddenly finds himself in the city of Los Santos to see that it is much, much colder than it should be in the west cost of the United States. Not only that, but the entire population of Los Santos is missing as well. Touma, Your Muse are attacked by strange creatures who are controlled by the magician who is the lord of this space. Meeting up with Index, the group sets out to correct this anomaly and restore Los Santos back to its original state.

School Garden Arc

Because of the events with Agnese, Kamijou is unable to return to his dorm until it is repaired. As a result the board of directors are able to arrange a deal for Touma to stay in School Garden of all places, specifically Tokiwadai. Dreading  what awaits him, he is unaware of the plot that MINUS plans to undertake in School Garden, specifically for the #5 Level 5, Shokuhou Misaki.

Precure Hunter Arc

The Clock Tower of the Magic Association has put out sealing designations on the members of the Happiness Charge Precure, and has sent their enforcers to capture them.  A competition between Freelancers and Enforcers are underway as the girls become targets for Magicians looking for payment or notoriety, and Touma finds himself caught in the middle of it. Pertains to @rosecoloredmuses​

Shirai Assist Arc

Following the events of the Precure Hunter Arc, Shirai Kuroko on behalf of Judgement starts to investigate the clues left behind from the conflict. Board Chairman of Academy City, Aleister Crowley feels that Kuroko, and others will learn of the existence of the Magic Side, so to that end, Aleister employs MINUS to have her assassinated to prevent her from learning too much. This will lead to a confrontation with Shirai and MINUS in the now abandoned Misawa Cram School Building. Will result in Touma getting severely injured.

Hamazura Recruitment Arc

MINUS, despite what happened in December, still seeks to have Hamazura Shiage to their side. To that end, MINUS attempts to blackmail him into joining them by threatening the safety of ITEM, specifically Takitsubo Rikou and the young Fremea Seivlun. Hamazura gives into their demands, at least from what it seems, only in reality, he plans to face off against those MINUS members by himself. Touma and (your muse) goes to the location to help him overcome the threat that is MINUS.

SISTERS REBIRTH Arc

A man in a suit manages to abduct Last Order, prompting Accelerator to go on a Manhunt for the assalant. Both he and Last Order are quickly found by Accelerator and Misaka Mikoto and Last Order is saved. However, the two Level 5s learn of a plot to restart the SISTERS Project, prompting Accelerator and Mikoto to take immediate action by destroying the labratories behind the plot. Later Misaka Imouto is kidnapped by a Researcher who is behind the plot and was once part of the original Project, prompting Touma to get involved, to save the Sisters. Includes new technology and Touma fighting a Researcher in a fist fight. Pertains to xbloodsoakedx and tetsuwan-atom

Dragon Slayer Arc

A defected Knight from the Roman catholic Church travels to Academy City with the intent to kill Touma, believing that by slaying him as the "Dragon", he will become a Saint and gain power. To combat this, Nessicarius and the Magic Association sends Kanzaki Kaori to protect him from this deranged magician. Will include the Invisible Thing manifesting following Touma's arm getting severed at some point.

Konori Justice Arc

Touma and Bowen are brought in by Yomikawa Aiho to help Judgement and Anti-Skill in a operation against some forces of MINUS in the tunnels of District 7. There is a lot of push back from this from Anti-Skill and Judgement, but circumstances force them to help, whether the peacekeeping forces want it or not.  They end up working with Judgement member Konori Mii in order to help take down the MINUS forces in the tunnels after the three are separated from the rest of the force after a MINUS attack and cave in. Pertains to @tetsuwan-atom​.

- God's One Throne Saga -

Unholy Inquisition Arc

The Fallen Roman Catholic Church finally decides to take action against the God Hunter and other enemies of God. Replacing God's Right Seat, a new organization called God's One Throne, led by Pope Mathias Benedictus decided to deploy the Neo-Inquisition to Academy City, with the sole purpose of eliminating Violet, Touma, and Bowen due to their respective natures. In response, Aleister once again plans to use Kazakiri Hyouka against the invading forces of the Church while the Magic Association plan to send enforcers to stop the Church. A new war between Magic and Science brews.

SS: Delta Force

A short story involving Touma and his friends Aogami Pierce and Tsuchimikado Motoharu getting into mischief involving swimsuits and changing room antics. Nothing serious here.

Book of Tyranus Arc

A grimoire called the Book of Tyranus was stolen from the British Museum by God's One Throne. The organization plans to use its contents in order to transform the Earth into a violent hellscape, thus destroying all of human civilization. The Magic Association requests the aid of Index, along with Touma as her manager and Bowen, as it is a grimore from the Meta Side and has the group with Miyuki, Othinus and Rosalia in tow head over to London. Chaos ensues moments after they land as the airport becomes a battle field between the forces of the Association, and the Church. Pertains to tetsuwan-atom.

Tower of London Arc

Gimelio The Understanding, after being defeated by the Association and Touma's group, is imprisoned within the Tower of London with the Church planning his rescue. Leivina Birdway is contacted by someone to prevent this from happening, and to that end she drags Touma and Co. along. Chaos ensues in the Tower of London as they not only have to deal with deranged prisoners, but Hei The Magnificent as well. Pertains to tetsuwan-atom.

The Flood Arc

With the first two days in London filled with nothing but chaos, Touma wants to enjoy his holiday to the fullest, but there is a complication: Lessar. Lessar from New Light mails herself to the Nessicarius women's dorm that Touma and crew are forced to stay (Since they are unable to return to japan because of the chaos from the Book of Tyranus arc) and tags along with them. However, the Fallen Roman Catholic Church declares the Magic Association to be enemies of God and another member of God's One Throne, VAVA The Gloriousmounts their attack on London. Chaos ensues when the water manipulating magician takes control of the Thames in the conflict.

Thor Challenge Arc

The Magician Thor wishes to fight Touma once more, to that end, he gets him involved in rescuing the 10% of missing child cases in England from the hands of God's One Throne, who continues to use them as disposable tools. Meanwhile, the Association and the Knights of England work together to find the hideout of the remaining members of God's One Throne in London and defeat them. More chaos ensues.

- MINUS Saga -

(Note: The MINUS saga runs concurrently along with the God's One Throne Saga after Delta Force SS and due to who it focuses on, it has more of s railgun feel and manga-like structure storywise. Meaning, they are longer in some cases)

Day 1.

After a phone conversation between Touma and the Railgang, Uiharu Kazari takes an interest in the boy, although is unable to properly remember his name and face because of how unremarkable it is. Meanwhile, Anti-Skill and Judgement conduct a joint operation against MINUS throughout the city. We learn that the Outsourcer for the Plan of Attack was a Pyschology expert by the name of Echidena Kihara Romefeller. The plan of attack results in tragety the side of Judgement and Uiharu seeks to uncover the identity of the Outsourcer, while at the same time conducting her own personal investigation into Kamijou Touma.

Day 2.

In her investigation into Touma, Uiharu asks her best friend Saten what he means to her. because of the timing of it, the question makes  Saten very uncomfortable  and is unable to anser due to having to go to school. Later, Uiharu continues her search for the escaped MINUS members, the identity of the Outsourcer, and more digging into Touma. Uiharu hacking into Touma's file results in her getting threatened by a sniper. She and Konori head over to Touma's school in order to gain information on a member of MINUS who used to go there. After this and more, Uiharu meets up with Saten again, the two argue for a bit regarding what happened earlier in the morning, but make up in the end. They meet up with Mikoto and Kuroko in order to question Touma in relation to his involvement in the Tower of LOndon Arc.

After this, the quartet head over to district 10 in order to face off against the remaining 232 members of MINUS who are hiding there. Anti-Skill and Judgement once again working together, only this time with Anti-Skill leading the charge. Yomikawa also brings in outside help in the form of Hamazura Shiage, Hattori Hanzou, Kuruwa, and Violent Violet. As this operation becomes a battlefeild for the hackers, (Uiharu and the MINUS hacker), the four volunteers are paired with the Railgang in order to protect Uiharu so she can hack into the machines and auromated weapons that MINUS has under their control.

After the conflict is over, the Railgang encounters Thor in Heaven Canceller's hospital to steal some drugs he plans to use on Touma as it ties into the Thor Arc.

Day 3.

The war against MINUS continues as the organization makes their next move to recover their captured member from Anti-Skill and Judgement. Interogations will happen featuring the appearance of Shokuhou Misaki and Kumokawa Seria, and a disturbing revelation is discovered that could potentially put Academy City and Tokyo in danger. Anti-Skill and Judgement move to stop this plot along with the help of a newly reformed GROUP?!

Day 4.

MINUS is on its last legs with most of its members in custody. Uiharu finds herself on a bus with a bomb that is about to blow up and she has to figure out how to stop it. Kamijou Touma finally returns home after his escapades in London, but as expected, it may not be a peaceful return.

Foul Resurrection Arc

After the incidents with MINUS and God's One Throne, Touma tries to enjoy his return to Academy City, but all of that is thrown out the window when he and Index are suddenly attacked by a strange serpent creature. Later, they encounter a woman in blue and find out that the serpent has been going around killing people. Wanting to stop this, Touma gets caught up in a dark plot involving the return of a certain old foe of Accelerator and Violent Violet. Pertains to xbloodsoakedx.

Hashmal Ascension Arc

Touma encounters a girl with silver hair and blue eyes who follows him around for some reason. Little does he know that this girl is somehow connected to the Pope and God's One Throne. A new conflict between Magic and Science continues.

The Great Magician War Arc (Final)

Following God's One Throne and the Pope's attack on Academy City, Inori Bendictus is taken away to Vatican City in order to enact his plans of using her power to bring forth the Promised Land --- which will result in the eradication of the human race. In the mist of all of this, the Vatican declares war on Academy City, the Magic Association, and the rest of humanity, branding them all as heretical. The final battle with the Grand Roman catholic Church commences as the forces of Magic the forces of Science, and the forces of the Kamijou Faction, all move forward to stop the Pope and save one girl.

If you are interested in writing any of these with me, please feel free to message me!

[seyaryminamoto]

What is something Sokka only ever did and does with and for Azula? I'm not talking about his love but an act. The hairdoing question was because I like the first time he does Azulas hair lots It is a particular thing and the imagination him only doing Azulas hair is individual. I did not ask because of jealousy rather of particularity. I can't find anything he only did does for with Azula

... Right. So, in about 200 chapters worth of story, you haven’t seen anything Sokka has exclusively done for Azula? I... do advise you read more closely. But if you don’t want to...

Represents her as her personal fighter, at first because of their deal, after their relationship blooms he does it because he’s 100% devoted to her in every way that counts. To him, their bond is one of a kind and he does his best to grow stronger so he can continue to fight with and for her, so she may be granted all the respect she deserves. He outright rejects being sponsored by anyone but her, and even when they had no choice but to have Zuko sponsoring him (chapter 56), Sokka said it wasn’t the same because he wanted HER. So her role as her sponsor is one of a kind for him, and he absolutely would never have that kind of bond with anyone else.

Protects her with his body whenever they’re falling off places, something Azula has remarked on more than once. He takes the worst of the impact every time, shielding her however he can. To this day, I’m pretty sure he hasn’t done that with anyone else? (chapter 38, chapter 77).

He opened up to her when he was troubled (chapter 50), sharing some of his innermost turmoil and suffering, letting her help him when he usually would rather not burden anyone else with what plagues him. Further proof of how deeply he trusts her, enough to start putting aside his bad habit of bottling up his troubles for her.

Refused an opportunity to go home AND reconnect with the first person he truly felt comfortable with in the FIre Nation (Piandao), choosing to stay by Azula’s side instead and protect her from people who would most likely harm her (chapter 54).

Nearly killed two gladiators whose sponsors were attempting to marry Azula against her will (chapter 70, chapter 169).

Put aside every shred of his dignity and accepted all punishments Azula forced on him, enduring everything because he thought he deserved it for wronging her (the ENTIRE Rough Rhinos arc).

Gave her the better portions of food during their accidental trip through the forest (again, Rough Rhinos arc) AND saves food for her (chapter 124), meaning, prioritizing her needs over his own. We all KNOW how much Sokka loves food, Azula more than anyone, and the implications of him not eating so she could have more were pretty clear regarding how much she means to him, as far as I can tell.

Cooked for her, sometimes to catastrophic results, but he still tried :’D (chapter 131, chapter 151 to a fault).

Writes haiku for her, and it’s SPECIFICALLY STATED that he only manages to complete proper poems whenever he’s writing about her, as everything else he writes he leaves incomplete or adds too many syllables (chapter 38, chapter 104).

Controls his strongest impulses very often when it comes to physical affection throughout Part 1 (namely in Ember Island and Giving In arcs), always privileging her needs above his own. He’s willing to stop before outright penetrative sex in chapter 97, for Azula’s benefit, and only goes for it when she directly asks him to. Her comfort and happiness are the priority, not his own.

Embarrasses himself willingly just to make her laugh (I’m sure there are many possible examples of this, but right now I can’t find them, but I found one instance of it in chapter 130, at least).

Challenged a nobleman (Kuan) for behaving disrespectfully towards Azula, by dismissing her interests and choices, yet Sokka restrained himself when Azula demanded it of him (chapter 36) and accepted the punishment Kuan forced on him without further protest or causing any more trouble for Azula.

Looked after her when she was sick, no matter if she was really mad at him at the time (White Lotus Attack arc).

Cheered her up after the first ball in the Festivals, after listening to her personal plight with Admiral Zhao (chapter 94)

Offered to teach basic swordsmanship to a kid so that the kid’s father would be on good terms with Azula, helping her craft stronger political allies (chapter 133).

Defends Azula constantly before anyone who may try to undermine or insult her (outright punched Zuko for saying thoughtless things about his sister in chapter 64, lashed out at Iroh for talking shit about her in chapter 95, attacked Rhone as soon as he spoke against Azula in 114 and threatened him in 160).

Comforts her often whenever she’s troubled, especially in matters pertaining her parents and the unpleasant strife they’ve caused her, both in the past and in current times (Ember Island arc, The Fire Nation Festivals arc, The Fire Lord’s Shadow arc). He’s also not judgmental, doesn’t tell her what to think, he mainly listens and helps her deal with her conflicted feelings.

Gladly agrees to change their original deal so he can stay with Azula for good instead of returning to his family, as he intended (chapter 107, Whaletail Island arc).

CRAFTED A BETROTHAL NECKLACE FOR HER??? :’) (chapter 131)

MARRIED HER. TWICE (Return to Shu Jing arc). I mean... really. The very logic of marriage says it’s something absolutely special you don’t do with just ANYONE? And they certainly live by that logic, completely. That something so obviously unique to his relationship with her happened so recently and yet you still sent this ask is... weird to me. Very weird.

In a slightly more intimate note: Sokka has never slept through the night with anyone but Azula. He has never woken up with someone beside him other than Azula. She’s literally the only one he’s ever done that with, and the only one he ever wants to do it with. Started in chapter 64, has happened many, many times since.

Endeavors to become a better painter because she inspired him to keep trying. They’ll start making collaborative art together starting in chapter 201 :’) and in 221 they will make a veeeery special artwork that’s basically their masterpiece.

Climbed a volcano to find a flower to give to her as a token of everlasting love? (chapter 125) :’D 

Nearly died at the hands of Jeong Jeong’s schemes all be it to stay loyal to Azula (also chapter 125).

Got her a Fire Lily in the Festivals, something no one else had ever done for her, cultural connotations of it demand I single this out because it’s a big deal in the Fire Nation, he’s never done that for anyone else and never will (chapter 146).

Constantly asks for her lychee wine, her favorite drink, whenever they go places. The fact that Azula’s heart seems to grow twenty sizes every time he goes out of his way to find her perfect drink should be pretty telling...?

Overworked himself to make her dragon’s perfect armor as a birthday gift for her (Azula’s birthday arc), then still managed to win a fight for her sake despite his body was in bad shape.

Told her being without her feels like sleepwalking through life, waiting until she’s around again so he can wake up and feel like himself once more (chapter 86).

Offered his services and support in helping in the fulfillment Azula’s dream of offering women in the Fire Nation bigger opportunities and roles to make a difference in the world, by training the Enforcers in swordsmanship (Whaletail Island arc).

Accompanied Azula throughout her investigation in The Fire Lord’s Shadow arc, offering her all the support he could in that endeavor, day and night if need be, no matter how dangerous things got he was always there with her.

Trusted Azula so much he allowed her to BEND THROUGH HIM :’) I can guarantee that there’s no way anyone else can do that with Sokka other than Azula.

Sneaks out of his house, or his cabin, to spend nights with her whenever they can afford to, seen all throughout Part 2.

Changed his entire worldview to understand hers, just as she changed hers to understand his. Developed genuine empathy with someone who should have been his enemy, and saw through her to understand her humanity, something NO ONE BUT HIM had done before, and something he’s certainly not willing to do for many people he started out hating, or that he hated at any point in time (literally seen all through the story).

So... 33 items not enough yet, I wonder? Then stick around. The last arcs of Part 2 pack more than a few punches and many unique Sokkla interactions and situations that MIGHT just serve for you to finally see that their bond is actually one of a kind? Despite I’m pretty sure the story that already has been published proves it completely already... but I guess you may have gone too long witthout reading it in full detail? Eh, whatever the reason may be, you can see for yourself there’s a ton of unique things Sokka and Azula have only done with each other.

[rosaetae]

the chrysanthemum effect | 6

[this chapter is apart of the chrysanthemum effect]

☇ “Keeping your flowers, keeping your pain— it’s already everything you need to move on. How do you move on from things if you’re not willing to accept them?“

➣  pairing: taehyung x reader

➣  genre: hanahaki!au, model!taehyung, weddingplanner(ish)!au  

➣  word count: 3.2k

➣  summary: the hanahaki disease has become a stigma in this world where if you had it, you are looked down upon. her flowers were white chrysanthemums and they have been for the past two years. she was in love with someone who obviously didn’t feel the same way, and this was her way of moving on— along with the people in her life who had to conform around the hanahaki disease.

Taehyung was outside your apartment again that morning, awaiting for your presence.

He notices that you were going to show up a little later than usual and he wonders if you slept through your alarm. He can recall those morning where you always slept through it, no matter how loud and deafening the sound of your phone was until he had to groan, reach over to turn it off himself, and wake you up with nudges and fluttering kisses.

His hopes went up a few times when the door would open. He saw someone with a familiar red beanie on— a red beanie that you liked to wear during the fall and winter time—, a man holding hands with a woman— who looked very content seeming that they stopped to say good morning to him—, and someone struggling to carry their workload— reminiscent of you and your god-given work ethics— , only to notice that all of them weren't you.

That was, until you came out, a cream coat and black boots on, seemingly in a rush and entirely oblivious to his presence until you step down the steps and come to an immediate stop. The look you had on your face demonstrated that you were subtly taken aback by his appearance, but warmth followed after.

"Hi," you speak, tone mixed with confusion and surprise.

"Hey," he smiles, playing with the item in his hand behind his back excitedly.

"You're here again?"

He raises an eyebrow. "It sounds like you don't want me to be here," he says teasingly, only for you to shrug.

You walk up to him with a smirk, before he turns the direction of Planetarium and you both began your journey to the coffee shop side by side. "And if I said I don't?" The challenge in your voice makes him narrow his eyes at you.

"Fine," he scoffs lightly, speeding up his pace due to his advantage of his long legs. "I guess you don't want to see what I got you."

"Wait, what?"

The curiosity in your voice followed by your hasty pace to reach up to him causes him to slow down, a smug look on his face as he looks down at you, gripping his gift for you tightly and hiding it from your sight.

"Taehyung, you got me something?" You press, reaching up to him. "Hey, wait! You're joking, right?"

Taehyung smiles cheekily before coming to stop. "Maybe."

"You really didn't have to," he hears you say, a pout forming on your lips.

"Well, I did," he then unveils the gift from behind his back, letting it drop him his hand but keeping the chain of the gift attached to his fingers. "I got you a necklace from Montreal."

The look of astonishment waves over your face evidently and Taehyung is suddenly worrying if you were going to hate it. He knows he wasn't the best with gifts, but he remembers you loved them regardless. Like once, he got you a mug for your birthday and you loved it so much that you refused to use any other mug.

Before words could even come out of your lips, a sudden phone call that wasn't coming from him made you flinch, ruining the moment. Hastily, you grab at your phone in bag and Taehyung couldn't help but notice that the call was from Hoseok.

Truthfully, Taehyung was a bit disappointed at the abrupt call, hand with the necklace lowering, but his worries start to ease with each ring you let pass on.

"You can take it," he offers, thinking that this is maybe how you felt that one time his phone went off. Realizing upon this, he takes a mental note on turning off his phone completely when he's with you.

Eyes meeting his, you tentatively shake your head, surprising him as you immediately turn off your ringer and throw your phone in the bag. As you do so, he begins to feel anxious, taking his free hand and running it through his hair.

"No, no. I'm sorry about that," you apologize before you're giving your full attention to him, eyes back to its curiosity and confusion. "So, you actually got me a necklace?"

"I stopped by an antique shop and I saw this necklace and I thought you would like it," he immediately explains, almost frightened by your astonishment that maybe getting a necklace that he saw and thought of you was a bad idea.  

His hotel was down the street of an antique shop and one night, when it was still open, he saw the necklace through the window, the seller immediately telling the story of its origin that seemed too fictional, but it was beautiful nonetheless.

Hesitantly, you look at him as he held it in front of you again and reach out to grab it by the pendant.

It was attached to a gold chain, a bit rusted due to time and aging, but the pendant itself barely showed any evidence of aging. It was incredibly detailed, a gem built in the center. Taehyung, admittedly, admired how gold looked on you.

"I thought of you when I saw the gem," he points out.

Carefully, you let out a sigh before looking back up at him, a smile of both worry and gratitude on your face. "You seem to have a lot of thoughts pertaining to me." The look in your eyes scares him in the most intriguing way when you say that— because though he won't admit it verbally, you have been crossing his mind for awhile.  "Why? I thought you wouldn't have time to explore Montreal?" You inquire quietly.

"I had some spare time," he responds. There was a moment where he debated on not telling you. Just staring at you and the look on your face as you held the necklace in your hand. Taehyung ends up shrugging, shoving his hands in his pocket.

"Because I never said thank you," he began to answer the other part of your message, as if he was holding in his breath for too long.

"Thank you?" Scrunching your eyebrows, he notices that you clench onto the necklace protectively. "For what?"

"For... I don't know... managing to keep this platonic? I know it was odd and uncomfortable seeing me again— it probably still is— and hell, I know most girls don't like to keep shit like this platonic, but I have to say it's been relaxing... having to not deal with the awkwardness, because you know, with you, it's... it's different."

It's always been different.

Taehyung feels like he says the wrong thing when you blink at him. Of course, he probably did, he went off on a tangent and called this platonic when he absolutely didn't know what this was. Admittedly, he got the necklace for the sake of thinking of you, and only you. Suddenly, there's blaring alarms going off in his head when the second drags on, and now he's trying to mentally think of something to cover up his idiotic tracks— that is... until you let out a laugh.

A light laugh. Something he familiarizes as a laugh meant for if he had done something stupidly oblivious. It was the same laugh you let out when you saw him struggling to put on a sweater, only to realize that it was yours and it was a bit too small compared to his broad structure. Quite embarrassing, but it made you laugh.

"Well," you sarcastically begin, cupping the necklace into your hands as you hold against your chest. "Good thing I'm not like most girls."

He's about to reply to that before you began to keep walking.

You, to him, really aren't.

One one thousand. Two one thousand. Three one thousand.

Exhale.

When Doctor Wren calls you into his office, the look on his face isn't so pleasant. Neither was the tone of his voice when he asks you to come in right after your anatomy class over the phone.

"Your heartbeat is at a normal rate now," Doctor Wren says. You try to get a gist of any indication of something terrible that happened since his abrupt appointment seemed too urgent and out of the blue. "You didn't forget to take your medicine, did you?"

You shook your head. "I took it, don't worry."

"Good," he says before he wraps his stethoscope over his neck again. "Have you been seeing Taehyung lately?"

Nodding, your lips curl upwards slightly. "Yeah, actually I wanted to tell you, but for some reason we're in this weird gray area. A lot happened since last time I saw you."

Doctor Wren, with a face of indifference, nods attentively. "Oh," he lets out with a monotone voice, having your curiosity growing. "You guys are talking?"

"He started walking with me to Planetarium in the morning," you tell him and Doctor Wren nods. "Yeah, I don't know... he even got me a necklace when he went to Montreal."

"Did he?"

You let out a light laugh. "I'm just as confused as you may be, but every time I'm with him, I don't think of needing the closure that I've always wanted— I think of being in the moment with him."

The smile that you didn't know you had on your face fades when you see Doctor Wren staring at you with an expression you couldn't quite decipher.

"Doctor Wren, why did call me in today?"

There was a fear in your voice and by the way that he took in a sigh, you just knew that something was bound to happen. Of course the universe didn't want you to reach acceptance, not without the cost of something.

"I have bad news."  

"What?"

"But," he says. "There's some good news to it."

Scrunching your eyebrows together, you give him a look to continue.

"Your flowers have been growing at an unusually fast rate. And it's not because you're not taking your medication constantly, but it's because, I think, your feelings have become... overbearing.," he says as you nod. "The bad news is that they've grown to your lungs."

Hearing that, you felt your whole body freeze over. An immediate stop to your breathing that took you moment to recollect yourself. "What?"

"I did some tests last time I saw you. And we found this," he informs, pulling at what seemed to be an x-ray. Your eyesight was getting blurry, but you can make out what the x-ray was. It was the sight of your lungs, and just like so, on the bottom corner of it, your flowers were present. The outline of the thin petals of your chrysanthemums covering the outline of your organ and truthfully, you didn't know how to feel. "They've began to grow from your right lung, just right within the inferior lobe."

You blink, unable to fathom words into the reaction to this.

"Good news is that we found it," Doctor Wren continues. "If I hadn't ran any tests on you, we would come across this when it would be too late."

"So..."

"So," he starts. "I think it's finally time we schedule that surgery."

"No," you snap without hesitation. "No, Doctor Wren. You, out of all people, know that that is my last resort."

"I know, ___. But, this is serious. No one's flowers have grown this far out into their system. Your flowers are growing and they'll continue to grow for however long you suppress them, ___. They've already made its way into your lungs, this is not something you can say no to."

In your head, you admit he was right, and you wanted to yell and scream at the universe for not letting you have this one thing— to let you move on without tending to the surgery.

"Is there any other way?"

His face softens. "Only the surgery is a guarantee, ___."

"I'm sorry," you mutter, shaking your head. "I can't do that."

"And I can't let you go ahead and let your flowers be the reason why you die, ___," Doctor Wren says, almost exasperated. "Look, all I'm going to tell you is think about it. Two weeks, tops. But if you don't schedule that surgery soon, there's nothing I can do."

You don't say anything. What can you do at the moment? You couldn't let yourself suffer even more because you decided to keep someone, who came back, in your life. But even then, you didn't want to throw everything away.

"People with Hanahaki don't deserve to die, ___. You, especially, deserve to live. I know that you want to remember him and who he was to you, but if it came down to that and your life... I'm saying this as a doctor and your friend, your life is more precious."

Taehyung was supposed to be someone you were supposed to meet only once in your lifetime.

A stranger who would stay as a stranger.

He came in like the high tide, leaving after a certain amount of time when you said hello to him at a party and goodbye to him that same night. But again, he came back— fully and unexpectedly.

You didn't recognize him at first since your first impression of him in your mind was under a few colorful lights in a dark room, but seeing that he managed to have some sort of recognition of you that day on the train, the person you were supposed to meet only once became someone you met twice.

And for some odd reason, he wanted to see you more, being why he fully indulged into a conversation with you, purposely missing his stop to get off at your stop and walk you to your part time job at the time (though he didn't want to admit that at that moment because it would have obviously be deemed weird to want to strangely want to keep talking with a stranger).

Before you knew it, the stranger became an acquaintance— and meeting him once was not suffice. Finding each other on the train was the routine for a week or two, only to also find out that he was two years older, attending the same university as you.

He once surprised you at the library when he saw you behind the window on the fourth floor at 2 AM, thinking that you needed some coffee that night. And so he simply bought you a latte— since he wasn't sure if you were even a coffee drinker— and he hiked up those four flights of stairs to find you there, surrounded by notebooks and your laptop.

"So, I was thinking," he greets you that morning outside your apartment, all dressed up and hair in tact with a smirk on his face. He looked relatively happier that morning, causing you to feel wary about his certain thoughts that had him thinking.

Then suddenly, the stranger turned acquaintance turned friend somehow turned into someone you fell in love with.

It wasn't anything unusual or sporadic like most realizations of a person realizing they're in love with someone— it was nothing of a sort.

Letting out a small laugh, you adjust your tote bag on your shoulder. "Thinking about what exactly?"

"What do you think about going to the night market with me tomorrow night?" He asks watching that boyish grin on his face of his hopes light up. "Only if you want. I don't have anything planned for that day."

Firstly, you weren't even the type to be in a relationship nor even be in love. You knew of the fool's tale of being in love and falling out of love and you had enough friends recalling the tale which ultimately led to vomiting flowers and having to undergo surgery at a young age— being in love wasn't a conception that you particularly liked or were ever fond of in the beginning.

"What?" Your voice sounds nearly scared, the immediate thought of being with him in a public area surrounded with crows frightening you in every single one of your nerves.

"The night market," he repeats with a childish smile. "It's got those potato twists and taro balls that you like."

That is until you realized you were getting distracted.

It started off with every 10 minutes or so of your studying at the library, you would check your phone if he texted or called— sometimes he did and you always had to do that thing where you waited a few minutes to respond so you didn't seem too excited to talk to him and you finally understood why your friends used to do that.

Then every morning, getting up wasn't so hard when he would come over in the morning to pick you up. He'd be in the kitchen with Somin grumpily making coffee as he was there two hours earlier than Somin's scheduled alarm clock. Sometimes, you would be missing a few classes to spend time with him or like every evening on Tuesday and Thursday, you would leave class a little earlier than usual just to be with him.

"I... sure, I guess," you say, finally nodding and giving in.

But on top of all of that, you simply found yourself searching for him— and only him— in a large crowd. With dozens to billions of people in the world, you always found yourself looking for him. You'd always look for his tall stature first, his broad form, followed by the color of his hair depending on which color he dyed it as, then relief would flow over your body when you meet his eyes. The only pair of eyes that only you can spot out a distance away. The only pair that you've only ever known.

Taehyung looks at you, an amused look on his face. "But I want a yes."

So imagine how it was like to realize you were reliving the fool's tale.

You blink at him, eyebrows scrunching at his statement. "Huh?"

"You sound unsure. I want to hear a 'yes'."

When he left that night with the intention of no longer seeing you for awhile (though you knew he meant forever), it was like everything you've ever felt disappeared from your body. It began with confusion, then denial, then anger.

You narrow your eyes at him and roll your eyes. "What are you even—"

"So I know that you'll actually go with me," he chuckles, the sound of his sonorous laughter warming you in the cold morning atmosphere.

"Okay, fine," you sigh defeatedly, letting out a laugh— a genuine laugh. "Yes, I'll go to the night market with you."

The realization soon hit faster than the realization of being in love with him— you were the fool your mother warned you not to be. The fool you warned yourself not to be.

Taehyung, smiling victoriously, glances at you. A happy look on his face. "Okay, great. Then I'll come pick you up?"

The smile on your face goes away a bit too quickly and you were hoping that he didn't catch it. "How about I meet you there?" You offer instead.

Fortunately, he didn't notice that your smile faded away when he looks at you again. "Alright," he almost sounded disappointed. "Meet me there at 8?"

And here you are, thinking your morals of not taking the surgery, of being strong enough to find your own way of moving on and acceptance, was the only reason that let you swallow down your pride and your flowers, only to realize that like every fool in the book of Hanahaki, you were just another chapter in the story.

[the-blind-assassin-12]

Blame the Beer

A/N: This is a result of some drunk writing, and A LOT of sober editing. This little look takes place in the earliest days, predating Benjamin and Reader’s relationship...but maybe not predating the feelings that you had for him. 

Word Count: 1,478

Requested by: @something-tofightfor​ 

The work on the library ceiling was coming to an end, just a final touch up of the lush, velvety blues and lilting, shining golds before the sealant was applied. You guessed it would take you about two more days, three tops, if only to wait for the paint to dry. Glancing down over the edge of the scaffolding, you noticed that Benjamin was starting to organize his stacks of notes, packing up his laptop and sorting the books into piles. You dipped your brushes in a cup of thinner to clean them, the paint that looked nearly black on the bristles creating cobalt swirls before dissolving away completely. Still watching, you saw Benjamin casually stroll through the shelves, slowly returning the books he’d been pouring over. Wiping your dripping brushes in the stain ridden rag that you held in your left hand, you couldn’t help but make the assumption that he was stalling until you got down. No, that’s...I’m sure that’s just… But before you could talk yourself out of it, you saw him look up and over his shoulder at you, eyes going wide and then narrowing over slightly reddened and rounded cheeks as he smiled sheepishly. Nope, he’s stalling. You laughed to yourself feeling your own face flush. This is so dumb. Your inward laughter drew your lips into a smile, and you hurried to finish packing up for the night.

Once you’d screwed the caps tightly onto the various pots of paints and solvents and tidied your tools, you ducked under the railing and climbed down the steel ladder of the scaffold. The sound of your boots on the bars caused Benjamin to tuck the last book he’d been carrying into a random place on a shelf before quickly coming back to the table where his things were, right next to where you stood. Subtle. “Done for the night?” He asked with a quirk of his eyebrow and a nod up towards the night sky above you. 

You nodded, unable to keep the smirk from your lips. But you knew that. You’d noticed him stealing peeks up at you for the last hour or so, trying to gauge how much longer you’d  be. “Yup,” you sighed, looking up at your work, one hand curving around the back of your neck as you arched your back to release a small pop. “Just a few more days to go. Too bad it’s Friday, or else I could have finished it sooner than the estimate I gave them.” Shrugging, you dropped your arm back to your side and looked back down at him to see that he’d not taken his eyes from you, even while you’d been looking up. Oh, Hi. You inhaled a quick breath, slightly unbalanced by the curious, honest look in his eyes. 

“Why, do you have another job lined up that you’re trying to get to?” He adjusted the strap of his laptop case and brought his fingertips up to lightly tap the bottom rim of his glasses up and into place. 

You brushed your palms over your jeans and rocked back on your heels. “No, I don’t-” 

“Then what’s the rush?” He widened his smile, flashing brilliantly white teeth before continuing. “You’ve got a weekend in London, why not enjoy it?” Your eyebrows flew up and he squeezed his eyes shut, waving one hand out in front of him, palm facing you. “No, not like… I didn’t mean with me I just meant…” 

You burst out in a laugh that seemed to deflate the rapidly expanding worry that he’d misspoken and offended you by implying that- That what? That I’d want to… that he’s interested in… 

“Dinner.” He broke up your thoughts, sighing as he recovered from his inadvertent forwardness. “Do you want to grab dinner with me?” 

You’d shared dinner with him a few times already since you’d started sharing workspaces, so one more invitation didn’t seem out of place. He was good company and you found yourself enjoying the time you spent with him. “Yeah, sure,” you nodded, smiling as he did the same. You mentioned the same chip shop you’d gone to the last time, but he shook his head. 

“A friend of mine is bartending at this pub round the corner from here. They serve food too, and Jack won’t charge me for a few pints, if you-” 

“Alright.” 

“Yeah?” He couldn’t keep a spark of excitement from his eyes and you caught it even from behind his lenses. 

“Yeah, why not. It’s Friday.” You winked and watched that spark ignite. It’s just dinner and drinks, it’s fine. 

Before the crisp cold air could get through your outer layers, he’d led you into the door of the pub, wood surfaces and the golden glow of lamps creating a warmth that banished even the thought of a chill. He’d introduced you to Jack who’d slid foam topped beers across the bar to both of you, Benjamin nodding a thanks as he passed you a laminated bar menu and held his glass up to yours. “To the weekend,” he looked at you, waiting for you to click your glass to his. 

You did, smiling. “Cheers to our hard work.” Some of the foam from your mug splashed over into his, some of his spilling onto the lacquered bar top. Oops. 

Benjamin chuckled and grabbed a handful of small square napkins to soak up your spill. “Like it never happened.” He took a sip, tongue flicking out to clean a drop of amber liquid from his lip. He gestured to the menu with one pointed finger, suggesting a few items that he’d tried before. Once you’d both ordered, you sat back in your stools and traded turns at asking questions and making conversation. You’d polished off two pints before dinner showed up, and you’d noticed that Benjamin had gotten increasingly excited by the questions that you were asking him, especially if they pertained to his research. Between shoving chips dunked in malt vinegar into his mouth, he rattled off names and dates, but not in the dry, dusty way that you’d learned them in school. Sure, he was on his third beer, but he was equal parts drunk on the alcohol and the passion that he clearly had for his course of study. It’s cute. 

Oh...shit. 

It’s the beer. 

He pulled his glasses from his face, waving them around as he spoke, before perching them up on his forehead to free his hands for more food. You took a sip of your drink, trying to swallow your thoughts. But you knew it wasn’t just the beer. You knew that you had started to think about Benjamin as more than just the guy writing a paper below your scaffold. You looked up just in time to catch him pushing his frames back into place on his nose, and his inability to decide if he wanted them on or off only made it more difficult to blame the beer. 

After you’d finished your meals, you pushed your plates closer to the service end of the bar, Jake swooping in to take them away. Before you could ask for your tab, the man was pushing another drink on you, and while both you and Benjamin tried to stop him before he’d poured them, he hadn’t heard you. “Guess we’re having one more?” You looked over at him, his face flushed from the drinks and laughter, his eyes shining for the same reasons. 

“Guess so,” he answered. “Good thing it’s Friday, huh?” He reversed your words from earlier, when you were lamenting that you hadn’t had more time to get your work done. He took a drink and then you saw his hand going for his glasses, no doubt to reposition them for the twelfth time. You couldn’t stop yourself from reaching out and beating him to it, pulling them away from his face, fingertips on fire from where they brushed the skin near his temple. What am I doing? You held your breath for a beat but quickly released it as he smiled. “I was fidgeting with them wasn’t I?” You nodded, bottom lip tucked under your teeth. He shook his head. “I do that when I’m…” 

“Excited?” You supplied the word for him. It was the one word you’d use to describe him- what you knew of him anyway. Excited. About his work, about whatever he was talking about, about who he spent his time with and how he thought about the world. He radiated potential and constantly kept one eye trained on the bright side, no matter what he saw on the other. 

“Yeah,” he was still smiling, but the look in his eyes had changed, softened. “Excited.” 

Oh shit. You felt a warm rush flood your veins that had nothing to do with the drinks. It’s not the beer.

.

.

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