#because (I suspect) it's an automatic counter

[kerryweaverlesbian]

Hi I don’t know you but your username makes me happy. I’m gonna go rewatch the episode where Kerry and Sandy first meet now 💛

She's literally ! Lesbain !! I already adored her for being difficult and a stick in the mud and lonely and ruthlessly power hungry. and then it turns out she's gay!!!

The wording of my username is in particular from a Holby City character (UK hospital drama) Serena Campbell who is also a late in life discoverer of her lesbianism and otherwise a similar character who says to herself in her journey of self discovery with delighted surprise: "who'd have thought it. Serena Campbell. Lesbian."

Holby City also does late in life homosexual discovery with CEO Henrik Hanssen as one of the very last storylines of the show. Him and a guy who he met offscreen by saving him from a shark bite while on holiday (lmao!!) fall in love in their 50s. Shark Bite is NOT good enough for Henrik but I'm so happy for him being queer 🥰

[magics-neptunes-things]

Good 4 U (2)

Hello everyone!

Some of you asked for a second part for Good 4 U, so here it is! I will have the song running in my head for days again, but it's ok.

Tumblr was a pain in my ass today, I had to repost this like four time, so I hope everything is ok!

Enjoy ♥

TW : Menstrual pain, loss of consciousness, suggestive mention

PART 1 | PART 3

______________________________________________________________

After your first kisses, you and Katie kept seeing each other every day. Your departure from London having been rejected for the beautiful eyes of the Irish, you decided to find yourself a job, not wishing to live off your sister any longer. You could have taken a hotel, but Lia seemed so hurt when you made that suggestion that you quickly backed off. And because you love spending time with your sister, you decided to keep you two days a week just for the two of you, with no one around. Including her girlfriend and your… maybe girlfriend?

Katie never officially offered you to be, but your dates are punctuated with affectionate gestures, looks that you would qualify yourself as sappy and kisses. Katie regularly takes you to look at the stars in different places in London and you strongly suspect her of doing research of the best spots for it in London. But you think it’s really cute.

Just like the fact that Katie always finds a time to come see you in the cafe where you work when she is not far from London for her football matches. This morning is no exception. You automatically raise your eyes towards the front door when the bell rings and you smile when Katie appears. Dressed in Arsenal training, ready for training.

"It’s for you I think"

Liam, your colleague with whom you are almost always in doubles during your schedules, gives you a playful elbow in the ribs, making you roll your eyes. But you don’t hesitate to approach the counter with a little smile.

"Good morning Ma'am. What can I serve you today?"

"It’s Miss for the moment, thank you very much. And I will gladly have a mango-strawberry-banana smoothie."

Her eyes sparkle with malice and her smile is to die for. Your smile expands as you grab the ingredients you need to prepare Katie’s order.

"What time are you done?" Katie asked while you cut the banana into pieces.

"At 4:00. What about you?"

"Almost the same. I’ll pick you up and we’ll spend the evening together, is it ok?"

You glance at her with a little smile, finishing her order before placing it on the counter.

"With pleasure"

Katie gives you a satisfied smile before carrying the straw of her drink to her lips to drink, looking at you straight in your eyes. Sometimes you feel like she knows how overwhelmed you are by your own attraction to her and that she loves to play with it. But it amuses you as much as it does for her, once the heat waves she gives you have passed.

Peeking around to make sure no client or staff members are looking at you, Katie leans over you to drop a quick kiss on your lips as goodbye. Her lips smell like strawberries and you almost mechanically say goodbye to her hand when she leaves the establishment.

***

The rest of your day has been more complicated. As long as you can remember, your menstrual period has always been complicated for you. Over time, you have discovered that you suffer from endometriosis and sometimes the treatment you have been given is not really strong enough to relieve you. This is the case today, even though you took your treatment on time.

As time passes and the hour of the end of your service approaches, you are mixed between relief and anxiety. The pain is escalating and you’re glad you can get out of there, but you don’t have the guts to tell Katie that you need to cancel your date.

You really want to see her and you cross your fingers so that the pain disappears throughout the day.

Katie is smiling when you join her and you let her pass her arms around your shoulders to squeeze you against her, as you pass yours around her waist. Closing your eyes briefly, you bury your face in the hollow of her neck before releasing her. You then realize that Katie is studying you carefully, her eyebrows slightly gathered.

"You look tired"

You smile at her and shrug your shoulders, trying to adopt a light tone so as not to attract her suspicions any longer.

"A little, but it’s okay. I’m glad to see you"

"I’m glad to see you too" Katie smile back, kissing your cheek.

Taking you by the waist, Katie trains you to her car in which you settle with relief. Standing up when you have your cramps is always particularly difficult. You ask Katie about her day to keep her busy, discreetly massaging your upper thighs with your hands, hoping to relieve your pain. But we cannot say that it works very well.

You feel guilty when Katie announces that she has planned a walk in a park near you. A walk is probably the worst thing possible for you right now, but you didn’t tell Katie about your situation when you found her so you don’t dare to do it now either.

You manage not to attract the attention of Katie during the first part of the walk, clinging to her arm who probably took your behavior for affection. But the pain begins to be unmanageable. You can’t even focus on what Katie is telling you, her voice and accent making you feel like she’s away from you and not just by your side.

"Y/N?"

You try to shake yourself mentally, but you can’t. Your vision is black and you feel yourself falling. It’s only thanks to Katie’s arms that you don’t crash on the floor. When you regained consciousness a few seconds later, the Irish woman made you sit on a bench.

"Y/N what’s going on?"

The worry is audible in Katie’s voice and you feel uncomfortable having imposed this vision on her. You who hoped to continue to make her addicted to you, we cannot say that this is the best way to do it. You are embarrassed when you answer her, not finding the courage to look into her eyes.

"I… It’s nothing, I just have my period. Cramps are bad sometimes. I better go home"

You try to get up but Katie imitates you, her arm instantly finding place in the hollow of your back.

"I’ll take you home"

You don’t know if it’s a good idea, not sure Lia enjoys seeing you go home with Katie, but the tone of the latter clearly lets you understand that you have no choice. And you still have to admit that walking with Katie half-carrying you is a lot easier than walking alone.

"Thank you" you mumble to Katie when she parks in front of your home. "I’m sorry about our date. Can I still call you tomorrow?"

Katie doesn’t answer your question right away, which makes you look up at her. Again, she’s watching you carefully and you feel a little uncomfortable, writhing in your seat.

"I thought I’d stay with you"

You bite your lip briefly, hesitating between accepting and enjoying her comforting presence or refusing and keeping some of your pride. But you end up nodding and Katie literally jumps out of the vehicle to help you get out in turn.

On your way home, you come across a post-it note from Lia, informing you that she and Caitlin will be home late and that they went to the cinema and the restaurant. It’s probably better this way, so that Katie will have time to go home without getting anyone into trouble. You didn’t hide from your sister that you see Katie regularly and Lia always seems a little suspicious, but without judging or trying to forbid you anything. You know that there is only the desire to protect you there-behind and anyway the most wicked look of Lia is probably equivalent to that of a kitten.

"Tell me what I can do for you" Katie asks after accompanying you to your bed.

"This wasn’t how I imagined bringing you in my room for the first time" you point out while lying on your bed, watching Katie.

The Irish girl rolls her eyes with an amused smile but seems determined not to move until she has had a task. You stand up to rummage through your bedside table and get out your treatment.

"Water" finally decides Katie, leaving your room to go to the kitchen.

Katie knows Lia’s house pretty well, before you started dating Lia and Katie were friends for a while.

When you hear the characteristic noise of the kettle, you imagine that Katie decided to make you hot tea. So you take the opportunity to undress, putting on clothes much more comfortable than those you wore until now. When you lie down, Katie joins you and you quickly realize that it is not with a tea that she returns, but bottles of hot water.

"To ease the pain" informs Katie by giving them to you and you finally wonder if you will not propose to her.

"Thank you" you say however simply, hoping that the gratitude you feel is audible in your voice.

You pat the bed next to you, inviting Katie to lay down next to you.

The latter does not beg, getting rid of their shoes before settling next to you. Taking care to wrap you in your down, she then attracts you against her and you take advantage of the situation by burying your face in the hollow of her neck.

Her caresses on the back help you relax and you close your eyes for a few moments. You feel like you hear Katie’s brain smoking and you try to get out of your torpor to speak again.

"You don’t have to stay, you know?"

"I know. But I want to, if you agree, obviously"

You answer only with a vague throat noise, trying to get a little closer physically to her, in search of comfort. Katie is sweet and hot against you and this brings you a form of relief that you did not expect.

"You’re soft" you mumble

Katie laughs when she hears you and you open an eye so you can look at her.

"I’m not sure anyone called me soft before"

You smile despite yourself, moving slightly to be even more glued against her. Katie willingly lets you do it, tightening her arms around your waist.

"You're soft, and warm, and comfy"

"I'm a little hot" Katie confess. "Is it ok if I take my shirt off?"

You open an eye and nod, sitting in your bed to let Katie making herself comfortable. Deciding to get rid of her pants too, the Irish slips under the sheets and takes you against her. You seem to have read somewhere that the heat helps relieve cramps and you do not know if it is true or if it is also the case for menstrual cramps, but you enjoy feeling her skin against yours.

"Are you feeling better?"

"A little" you mumble

Your eyes are suddenly heavy, which is not surprising because you just took your medication and it make you feel sleepy. You still want to stay awake to be with Katie anyway, but it seems like she knows better.

"Sleep, Beautiful. You need to rest"

You mumble something about not wanting to sleep, but four seconds later and you're dead asleep. Katie stayed with you every single second of the time of your nap.

But you wake up an hour later, the pain starting again even stronger than before. You wake up wincing, your agitation having already attracted Katie’s concerns. Her caresses in your hair and on your face are pleasant and you appreciate the freshness of her hands, but it does not work to remove all the pain.

"I hate to see you hurt like that. What can I do?"

You don’t know, but you feel like that answer is definitely not going to work for Katie.

"Maybe a little more hot water for the bottles?"

"I'll be right back"

Katie slips out of bed, not without gently kissing you before, and you follow her with the look when she leaves the room. Katie lost in her thoughts and you fell asleep, you didn’t hear Caitlin and Lia coming home. If that were the case you probably wouldn’t have sent Katie dressed only in a t-shirt and her underwear to warm you up a little water.

Moreover, when she arrives in the kitchen, Katie almost makes a seizure by falling face to face with Lia. Under the surprise, Katie drops one of the bottles on the floor.

"What are you doing here?" Lia asks, frowning.

"The question I ask myself is more like why is she half dressed" laughs Caitlin, enjoying a yogurt, sitting on the stool next to the central island.

Your big sister’s gaze slips on the lower part of Katie, then suddenly rising to the height of her eyes, ready to shoot at the Irish woman.

"It’s not what you think" Katie immediately says, passing next to her to access the kettle. "We were walking in the park when Y/N started to feel bad"

"What’s wrong with her?" Lia immediately gets alarmed. "Why didn’t she write to me?"

"It’s her period" explains the Irish, filling the bottles with hot water.

Lia makes a grimace when hearing the information, she too is aware of the pain of your menstruation. She saw you struggling all your life with it.

"I brought her back here and stayed with her, but I don’t know what else I can do" the Irishwoman confesses before looking up at Lia. "Is there something that could help?"

"No, sometimes her medicine just doesn't work" made Lia sadly shrugging her shoulders while Caitlin makes a grimace as a sign of compassion "Hot water is a good idea"

Lia's voice is soft when she looks at her and Katie nods before apologizing to her teammates to come back to you quickly. Still in the same position, you watch her enter the room and look with a sigh of relief at the newly hot bottles.

"Thank you" you whisper with gratitude

You were going to take it, but Katie makes you lie on your back, gently pushing you by the shoulder, gently rolling the bottles on the different painful parts of your body.

"Oh god" you mumble, feeling the contraction of your muscles relax a little bit.

Katie answers nothing, content to smile softly when seeing that what she imagined seems to work. Her hands sometimes replace bottles and you find yourself being much more relaxed than you’ve been all day.

"It may be that your sister saw me leave the room in this outfit" informs you Katie

You can’t help but smile when you hear the information, trying to imagine Lia’s face. Katie seems worried about your reaction, but if things keep going the way you want, chances are the Irish girl will spend a lot of time at your home.

"It doesn’t matter" you assure nicely

Katie gives you a smile and now that she has managed to relax you a little, you are dying to feel her skin against yours. Your eyes cross and Katie’s movements with her bottle are interrupted.

"Can you hold me?" you whisper shyly.

"Of course"

You don't let her get back on her back, drawing her against you so that she feels pressed against you. Between that and the hot water bottles, the pain is almost tolerable. Head right next to yours, Katie looks at you a few moments before she resumes talking.

"I wanted to ask you something today"

"What is it?" you ask curiously.

You turn your eyes towards her when she puts one of your strands of hair back, trying to imagine what she might want to ask you. But she seems to hesitate and you bite your lower lip before talking again.

"Have you changed your mind?"

"No" quickly answers Katie "But first, I have another question to ask you"

"Go ahead?"

Looking at you carefully, Katie takes a small breath. You can feel the tension emanating from her body, even if it seems to be related to stress and not to pain, like yours.

"You said you weren’t planning on leaving London yet" Katie starts as you nod "But… Does that mean you’re going leave at some point?"

After you kissed in the halls of Meadow Park, you had a little chat. Deciding to see where your story will take you, you pushed back your departure to an unknown date.

You open your mouth to answer her, but Katie puts a finger on your lips, intimating you silence.

"Because the first question I wanted to ask you was whether you wanted to be my girlfriend. But I’m not sure I want a long-distance relationship. But I really like you and I need to know if the time we have together is short or if I, we, can hope for more"

Your heart accelerated when you heard Katie’s confessions, and you feel a little bad about not being clear enough with her. When Lia spoke to you briefly about Katie, she always described the young woman as being attentive to her friends and very loyal. You are happy to see that she was right and that there is a difference between Katie the hothead that can be seen on the football fields and the Katie outside.

"I’m sorry to talk about it now, I know this may not be the best timing"

"No, no, it’s fine" you say, finally speaking. "I’m sorry I misspoke. When I told you I didn’t know when I would leave London, it was because I didn’t plan to. I don’t know where our story is going, but I really want to explore it"

A wave of relief passes over Katie’s face as she looks at you with a new ray of hope in her eyes. You didn’t answer the rest of her sentence, the girlfriend part, because you don’t really know if it’s an official question or not. You don’t have to wait long though.

"Then would you agree to be my girlfriend?"

A smile on your lips, you bite your lower lip before answering.

"I would love to"

With a big smile on her lips, Katie gently puts her hand on your cheek and gently draws your face against hers. This is clearly not the first time you kiss, but this kiss has another flavor. Katie is your girlfriend. You are Katie McCabe's girlfriend.

***

"Y/N we're leaving in ten, you better being dressed and not naked in your bed making disgusting business!"

Groaning, you roll off your girlfriend, on which you were still deep asleep.

"I don’t know how Cait stand her" you grumble as you rub your eyes

"Stop it, you know you love her. And we were right to do our disgusting business last night" Katie comments, stretching before yawning.

You smile softly as you get out of bed, digging through your cupboard to choose your clothes. This year, your parents decided to leave your native Switzerland to celebrate Christmas with Lia and you in London. Katie and Caitlin are also there, as are some of Katie’s family members and Caitlin’s mother and sister. All this little world cannot fit in one house, so Caitlin’s family will sleep in her house, yours in Lia’s and yours, and Katie’s in her house as well.

In order to enjoy yourself longer, your parents are already arriving today and it has been agreed that you will pick them up at the airport.

"Do you really have to go in ten minutes?"

You turn towards Katie who looks at your almost naked body without the slightest bit of shame and discretion, making you laugh softly. You put on a t-shirt and pants and climb on four leg on the bed to put a kiss on your girlfriend’s lips. You knew before your lips touched that you wouldn’t come out of bed so soon, but you laugh when Katie’s arms wrap around your waist to draw you against her.

"Oh for the love of God"

Your sister’s voice sounds behind you and you roll on your back to get rid of Katie’s embrace, with whom you were always exchanging kisses. You may have lost track of time. The cushion that Lia throws at you bounces off your hands when you place them in front of your face to protect you, landing on Katie’s legs. You’re both very amused.

Even Lia cannot hold back her amused smile when she speaks again.

"Let’s go. Now."

Lia wait for you to get out of bed before leaving your room again. You hear her saying goodbye to Caitlin in the kitchen when you put on a sweatshirt that doesn’t belong to you.

"Hey, it’s mine! I’ve been looking for it for weeks!"

"Oops" you smile maliciously at Katie

You make a quick journey through the bathroom to refresh yourself and you are tying your hair in a messy bun when you return to your bedroom. Meanwhile, Katie stands up and doesn’t seem disturbed by your hands in your hair when she grabs you by the waist to draw you against her. Sometimes you wonder if she has Spanish origins, between her easy tanning and how tactile she can be with you.

"Will you still be here when we get back?" you ask Katie while she kisses your cheek and you finish to do your hair.

"You want me to?"

"Yes, but no pressure. You’ll have time to meet my parents later, if you prefer."

Now that your hair is tied properly, you gently put your arms around Katie’s neck.

"Then I’ll be there" Katie replies before kissing you affectionately.

"Y/N!"

Lia’s voice, although usually sweet, sounds from the front door, making you both laugh softly. That’s when Caitlin's head goes through your door frame.

"Although I like to take the time to relax after you annoy her, Y/N, out."

[moonstruckme]

I ADORE your writing it is so so so amazing. Could i request poly!marauders x fem!reader who works in a store (maybe like a supermarket or something) and they keep coming because they "need" stuff but they actually just wanna see her and its all cute and flully and stuff?? If you don't wanna do it, no worries at all<3

Thanks lovely! Hope you enjoy it :)

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.4k words

You’ve barely flipped the sign in the front to open and begun restocking the tomatoes when the door opens. “Good morning,” you say automatically, a Pavlovian response to the chime of the bell. 

“G’morning, lovely,” a familiar voice replies, the curly-haired boy flashing a smile at you as he stops below your ladder. “How’s your day going?”

“Well, it’s—” you look at the clock behind the counter “—quarter past seven, so…so far so good.” 

“Happy to hear it.” His dark-haired, sharp-edged friend appears, startling you, and the curly-haired one holds up his hands, ready to steady you if you need it.

“Shit, Pads,” he says once it’s clear you’re not going to fall, “you don’t sneak up on someone on a ladder like that. You scared her.”

You give them both a tense smile. “It’s fine,” you say, mustering your best customer service voice (not an easy task with two of your best-looking customers standing so close to you). “I’m alright.” 

“Sorry, dollface,” Pads says, sending you a half-sheepish grin in return. You don’t really understand these nicknames they have for each other, but embarrassingly, they’re the only names you know them by. The same group of three boys has been coming by your store for months, almost every day, and it’s reached a point where it’d be too awkward to ask for their names. They’re by far your favorite customers, but you only know them as what they call each other. There’s Pads, Prongs, and…

“Moony, weren’t you saying we’re out of eggs?” Prongs asks.

The tall one comes into view, already holding three cartons of eggs. “Yeah, but I can’t pick. What’s better, free-range or organic?”

“Free-range,” you say, feeling your face heat when they all look up at you. “I mean, it depends on your preference, but that’s what I’d get.” 

There’s a beat of silence wherein you suspect the boys are exchanging silent communication and have to force yourself to keep your gaze on the tomatoes, and then, “Dove, I hate to trouble you, but would you mind helping us choose?” Moony’s voice is soft, unobtrusive but compelling. Of the three boys, you find him the easiest to talk to. Prongs oozes charm and Pads flirts like it’s breathing, but something about Moony’s calm demeanor is disarming. “You seem like you know a lot more than any of us.”

“I don’t know about a lot.” You shake your head dismissively, but you’re already starting down the ladder. You miss the last step, and warm hands grab your waist, lowering you cautiously to the floor. 

“Easy,” Prongs murmurs. 

Your heart’s in your throat, more from embarrassment than from the alarm at your near fall, and you understand why you’re blushing, but you don’t get why he is. 

Your “thanks” comes out as more of a breath than a word, but he gifts you one of those dazzling smiles anyway. You turn to the egg cartons like they’re your lifeline, trying to steady your breathing while you read the labels. 

“Um, yeah, so.” You clear your throat. “It’s pretty self-explanatory, but organic just means they give the chickens food without chemicals or anything, and free-range means they get a certain amount of space to roam in. I don’t think it changes how the eggs taste or anything, it just depends on what you think is most ethical.” 

Moony nods, looking like he’s mulling this over, but you can’t stand to stay under his gaze any longer than that. 

“Let me know if there’s anything else I can help you with!” you squeak, abandoning your ladder to go tidy behind the counter. 

You’d think after months of these guys coming in you’d be used to them, but you’re not. They wind you every time. They’re obviously close, and you like to imagine them as housemates, maybe even lovers, with the way they seem to interact with such casual intimacy. So many of your customers barely look at you as they go about their business, and you don’t blame them for that, but these boys always have something to say to you. They’ll ask how your day is going, or whether you’ve tried the coffee shop down the road, or what you think of a new jacket. The way they talk amongst each other is so easy, and they talk with you like it should be easy too, but somehow you always manage to make it difficult for them. You’re too quiet, too nervous, too awkward. And yet they keep coming back. 

You’re not allowed much reprieve before Pads is sauntering up to the counter, free-range eggs in hand. He sets them on the counter. “Thanks for the advice, sweetheart.” 

“It’s no problem,” you say, distracting yourself with the manageable, routine tasks of your job. Scan the item, open the cash register, ask “Would you like a bag for that?”

“No,” he replies just as cordially, “but thank you.” 

Before he goes, he tucks a bill into the tip jar on the edge of the counter, just like always, and just like always, you don’t really know what to do with yourself. It’s not like it’s ever a massive amount of money, but still. They’re only your age. Unless they’re all heirs to separate fortunes or something, they probably have about as much money to spare as you do. And it’s so, so unnecessary, especially considering they come here every day to buy one or two items, and then leave you a tip—for what? For ringing them up? For having limited knowledge of chicken ethics?

“You really don’t have to do that,” you blurt, shrinking in on yourself sheepishly when all three boys turn to look at you, nearly out the door. “I just mean, you guys come here all the time. You only ever get a couple of items, it’s really not necessary to leave a tip every time.” 

The three boys look at you with varying degrees of bemusement, and Moony gives you a small smile. “We don’t mind,” he replies, at the same time as Pads says, “We like coming here.” 

“I just…you shouldn’t feel obligated to leave a tip just because you need something from the corner store. I’m sure you live nearby, right? It’s not like you have a bunch of options in this area.”

The ensuing pause stretches a moment too long, and you tilt your head curiously as both Moony and Prongs begin to blush faintly. “Well,” the latter says, looking about the store with forced casualness, “actually…”

Pads isn’t so tactful. “We don’t live nearby,” he says, gray eyes frank and unflinching. 

You blink. “No?”

Moony shrugs, looking alarmingly shamefaced. “No.” 

“We used to live around here,” Prongs supplies. “We just don’t anymore. Haven’t bothered to find a new store.” 

“Oh.” You hadn’t taken them for creatures of habit, but what all do you know about them really? “Um, where do you live now?” you ask, then want to hit yourself. “Sorry, you don’t have to answer that, I don’t mean to intrude—”

“No, it’s okay,” Moony says, in his usual kind way. “We moved down onto twenty second street.” 

Your mouth actually drops open. A giant O, and you can hear your mom telling you you’ll catch flies. Pads snickers at your reaction. But fuck, that’s nearly across town. It has to take them at least a half hour to get to your store from there, and that’s if they have a car. “I, um.” You shake your head, collecting yourself. “Sorry, that’s just so far. I used to live around there, actually.” 

Prongs perks up. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, there’s a Tesco just a couple blocks down, on twenty third? And a Sainsbury’s and—oh! There’s a great local corner store not far from there, you should definitely check it out. They make their own bread.”

“Neat,” Moony says, nodding. “Thank you.” 

You smile, happy to help even though you’ll be sad to see them go. “Of course, anytime.” 

“Yeah, thanks gorgeous.”  Pads grins at you, tucking another bill into your tip jar and ignoring your squawk of protest. “See you tomorrow.”

You blink, wondering if you’d just invented the previous conversation, but they’re all starting for the door, acting as though nothing is amiss. 

Perhaps you’re feeling extra bold today, because you halt them for a second time. “But don’t you want to go somewhere more convenient?”

Prongs turns around, walking backwards towards the door. “Really appreciate the advice,” he says, “but we like this store just fine.” Moony shoots you a bashful sort of grin, and Pads winks—actually winks—over his shoulder. “So we’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

And, well, if they want to keep crossing town to come in every morning, far be it for you to stop them. You’d hate to drive off your best customers. “Yeah,” you echo. “See you tomorrow.”

[bisexual-horror-fan]

"Rewarding Good Behaviour." Mark Hoffman X AFAB! Reader. NSFW.

SO! I don't got a boner for Hoffman, but I wrote this for @eggsandbeer's birthday! The things one does for love and to be a good gift giver, you know? Anyway, the birthday girl in question gave me the go ahead to post this. Don't be expecting any more of this, so enjoy this one bit, eh?

---

Rating. Explicit. Length. 2K. Mark Hoffman X AFAB! Police Record Clerk Reader. She/Her Pronouns. Warnings: Banter. Public Sex. So Much Cunnilingus. Vaginal Fingering. Hold The Moan. Mild Overstim.

---

You’ve always taken a bit of extra time getting ready for work, you took pride in your appearance and liked to look good on the job. You felt like any job worth doing, was worth doing cute, there was no reason to not in your opinion. Lately, you have been putting in some extra effort, mostly because there was someone you were trying to impress, so you focused intently when you were putting on your eyeliner, you used a very cute tinted and flavoured lip product as opposed to plain old chapstick. Standing in front of the mirror, you did your best to keep your hair looking silky and touchable in that simple hope that maybe he would touch it. 

A small bounce in your step on your way out the door, swinging your keys on your pointer finger around and around, hopeful today you’d see him, it had been a while. 

Most of your late shift had flitted by without comment, some reorganization, pulling files when asked, casual conversation, reading over lunch and then, while working on a crossword in the paper that someone had left at your station, he arrives. 

For a man so large, with such a commanding presence, he sure can sneak up on you. It isn’t until he knocks on the desk you are leaning on that you realize he is right in front of you, staring down at you with those shockingly blue eyes. You straighten up, dropping your pencil with fumbling fingers as you greet him, “Hello, Detective Hoffman.”

You notice the twitch of his lips as he fights off a smile at how adorably flustered you are in front of him but doesn’t comment on it, instead just saying, “Hello.” 

He doesn’t waste time, but that is usual for him, seems he is always busy, he asks you, “Did you complete what I asked?”

Your hand was already on the cross-referenced file that you had tucked in one of the cubbies under the counter, you had gripped it and pulled it out in short order, placing it on the counter top, sliding it across to him. “I sure did.”

You caught how his eyebrows moved up very slightly, he reached out and picked up the file, opening it flipping through, lips pursing slightly as he looked over your work. You shifted the weight from one foot to the other, waiting for another shift in expression that might tell you non-verbally that he was happy with your work. He made you work for it.

He closed the file and his eyes were on you, a small smile as he tapped the spine of the file folder into his open leather glove clad palm, a beat before he finally says, “I’m impressed.” 

Yes! Those two words set your nerves alight, the grin that overtakes your face is automatic, your fingers drum on the lacquered wood as you ask, “Yeah?” 

He seems amused as he repeats what you said, confirming it as his own smile broadens, “Yeah.”

“So uh…How impressed are you?” You asked with a half shrug that you hoped came across as casual. 

He expresses just how impressed he is with you a few short minutes later when he is on the other side of the counter with you. He had your pants and underwear totally off and crumpled on the ground by your now sock clad feed, shoes having been hastily untied and discarded messily, you had one leg over a strong shoulder, his hands gripping your hips and his tongue running eagerly up through the soaked folds of your cunt.

So was it the smartest thing getting involved with what you suspected to be Hoffman’s less than legal activities? Probably not. But when you did well, the way he rewarded you made your worries melt faster than a creamsicle on hot pavement. Maybe it was stupid, but you would seriously do anything he asked to feel like this, the incredible spike of pleasure from his insanely broad and flat tongue running up from your hole and over your throbbing clit steals your breath and makes your back arch. The one leg you are standing on is trembling, you lean back harder on the counter, your fingers digging into the wood, head tipping back and spine arching. The fact he wanted to do this right here, so out in the open, sure the counter sits at waist height and covers what is going on, but it wouldn’t take much for someone to lean over and see Detective Hoffman on his knees and eating you out. He was always so messy with it, the slurping sounds, combined with your poor stifled moans, could so easily clue people into what was going on, not to mention your body language wasn’t exactly casual or relaxed. 

You need to try and stay quiet, keep it down, but fuck you wanted to look, maybe if you brace yourself than you can steal a glance. You steady yourself with a few deep breaths, biting your bottom lip you turn your head downwards to see the dark hair falling in his eyes, brow furrowed in concentration, plush and pretty pink lips locked on your straining clit, you can’t stop yourself, mouth falling open in a gasp as you move your hips, grinding yourself on his tongue. His glove clad hands are kneading your ass, drawing you closer, he hummed, and the vibration threatened to make your leg give out from underneath you, thankfully the counter will prevent such a fate. 

Getting lost in the sensation of what he was doing was as natural as breathing. One of his hands slides off of your ass and between your legs, one finger traces your drooling hole, teasing it before starting to slide in, your body tenses further as his efforts increase, pressing himself closer, sucking your swollen flesh into his mouth, enveloping it in the wet heat of his mouth before his tongue laves over it. You shiver and whine out on an exhalation, “Oh my Godddd-”

He gives you no chance to adjust, a second finger joins the first and begins to pump in and out, you groan from the slightly burning stretch, it is almost too much, a bit too painful, until he crooks his fingers and touches a spot that makes you yelp what starts to sound like his name until it breaks off. 

Your mind swims, soaked in a heady mix of blinding pleasure nearing overstimulation, hormones and Hoffman himself. If he keeps going, you are going to cum on his face at work, he is too strong, no way you can pry him off and even IF you could, why would you want to? It’s late anyway, not like anyone else is going to be coming by, you are fully giving into this, the one thing you attempt to do is keep your breathing even as he assaults your poor pussy. Lick, suck, thrust, and you are feeling your mind drift further and further away from you, until something or rather someone pulls you out of it. 

A hand on your shoulder and a voice asking, “Woah you alright there?” makes you jump nearly a foot, hips jerking so hard you grind on Hoffman’s mouth and the sound of surprise that leaves your mouth bleeds and merges into a nearly awkward sounding half moan. 

You look over your shoulder to see special agent Lindsey Perez standing there, her hand still on your shoulder. A thick swallow, you school another moan into a cough because Hoffman for sure can hear Perez, but he isn’t fucking stopping, his tongue still slipping over your clit and fingers working in and out of your clenching cunt. You force out a shaky, “H-hey! M’ so good!”

Her face creases in concern, “Yeah? Are you sure?” 

You feel the slow coil of pleasure starting to mount in your stomach, tightening, you curl your hands into fists, still awkwardly looking over your shoulder at her, “Oh yeah. Totally good-”

“Yeah? Because you look a little flush, like you have a fever or something-” Her hand moves off your shoulder and rests on your sweaty forehead, her sharp eyes peering into your half lidded hazy ones, your mind is whirring two thought on repeat, “Don’t moan. Breathe normally. Don’t moan. Breathe normally. Don’t moan. Breathe normally-”

The pleasure is building, Hoffman is in an incredible rhythm, getting you closer and closer still, you don’t respond, trying to put everything into hiding what was happening to you, Perez speaks up again, “Oh yeah you feel really warm.”

You need an out, somehow the idea hits through the haze of ecstasy, “You know I-I uhm, I don’t ac-actually ffffeel well, I feel a bit ahhn, faint, co-could you go get me some water?”

“Yeah of course.” Her hand pulls away, and she says, “Stay right here, don’t move.” 

“Tha-thaaankssss!” You call to her and your head drops forward, listening to the retreating click click click of her heels, heaving a sigh of minor relief, gaze falling to Hoffman’s smug fucking face still between your legs, he has an unmistakable mischievous glint in those hungry eyes staring up at you. He was challenging you, daring you to cum right here on his tongue. 

Jesus Christ, he is the worst, but you are so, so fucking close. If you cum before she comes back, he can stop and then you can cover up. You lean into it, move your hips, help him, work with him and the band grows ever tighter, the pleasure climbs higher and higher, you feel beads of sweat running down your back under your blouse and behind your knees, you are on the very razors edge, another few seconds and you’d be there. You bite your bottom lip, focusing, and all it takes is one more purposeful suck and a careful flick of his tongue, and you are cumming. Your hand flies up to your mouth, covering it so you could moan with abandon into it, feeling far too good to be able to be quiet. The orgasm threatens to rend the flesh from your bones, especially as he continues to suck and finger you through your high until you are a heaving wreck of painful overstimulation. Finally, you weakly push him away with a hand on his forehead, “Okay! Okay, fuck, I came, ease up!” 

Miraculously, you hear it over the ringing in your ears, the click click click of heels coming back towards you, eyes widening in horror, your legs comes down as your hand locks on Hoffman’s wrist, and you force him to take his fingers out of you, causing you to hiss as he does. Then you turn around, keeping your hips locked firmly to the edge of the counter so she can’t see the fact you still are pantless. You are resting on your crossed forearms and forcing a smile on your face. She sets the condensation covered water bottle next to your elbow on the table. 

“Here you go-” She says with a sympathetic smile, you pick it up and open it, with a breathless, “Thank you.” 

You chug about half the bottle in one go and then press the cold plastic to your forehead as she observes you. “There’s a reason I came by…” She starts, and you nod, encouraging her to continue, “What’s up?”

“Strahm was hoping to talk to you, asked me to come fetch you, he's in the interrogation room.” 

God, you were going to die tonight. You nodded, “Totally, I gotta hit the bathroom, and I’ll meet you there?”

“Sure.” She nodded, “You sure you’ll be able to get over there on your own?” She asked, and you laughed nervously before assuring her that you could, she headed off, and you finally turned and looked over your shoulder at Hoffman still on his knees, grinning as he looks up at you, holding out your pants and underwear. “You have fun?” You scoff and snatch the clothing from him, starting to put it back on with shaky legs, “You’re such an asshole.”

[vintagepascal]

I have an angsty/fluffy request!!!!! I feel like P has been getting more annoyed with the paps lately and I feel like if they stressed out his love he would get so po'ed, so maybe something about him getting mad or anxious about it (thats the angst), and reader comforting him and then some type of fluffy ending? I don't know if that makes sense but I think it's a fun concept. Ty if you decide to write it!!

LETHAL

AN - thanks so much for requesting love! hope this does it justice :) I used the inspo from that article where Pedro says his protective side is lethal hehe

word count - 3,200

rating - mature

content warnings - angst, no smut, fluffy ending, paparazzi involvement, slight catcalling, but literally the sappiest shit you've ever read how tf did I even conjure this shit oh my god

summary - pedro just wants to take his girl out for a nice date night, but someone at the restaurant sells you out

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

No one was supposed to know. The two of you had done everything right - called ahead with specific instructions but not given your real names, gone at non peak times, asked for a private table in the back of the restaurant away from the windows, taken your car instead of Pedro’s because it was less recognizable. And still, as Pedro scribbled his signature at the bottom of the receipt, you cautioned a look outside and you realized that what you suspected was true as yet another car pulled up to the curb. 

“Pedrito,” you used your softest voice, reaching across the white tablecloth for his hand. He wrapped your fingers up in his automatically, eyes finding yours. The sparkle in them dulled when he saw the look on your face. “We should probably go.”

“You haven’t finished your wine, amor.” His voice was tight, and you saw him crane his neck to get a view of outside for the first time, though he didn’t have a clear view like you did. It wasn’t hard to guess why you were ready to end an otherwise perfect date night early.

“That’s okay, we have more at home,” you smiled, moving your napkin nicely off your lap and onto the table. The first flash of a bulb went off and you swallowed hard. At the table to your left, you saw your favorite security guard, Mateo, stand up. 

“Time to go,” was all he said. 

You saw Pedro’s hand ball up into a fist, and he sucked in a breath between his teeth. 

“No one was supposed to know we were here. Someone must have tipped them off.” 

You reached for his hand, smiling when he opened up and offered you his fingers to lace your own through. 

“It’s alright.”

“It’s really not,” he countered. You knew he was at his wits end, considering the paps had managed to find him every day this week. He didn’t have much choice since he had to go to the gym each day for training, but he’d begged you to stay in the house as much as you could so they’d leave you alone with the promise of a nice date night on Friday to make up for it. 

“Hey.” You ran a thumb across his cheek quickly, hoping no one had a zoom lens where they could find you somehow. “Let’s just get home, yeah? It’s gonna be fine.” He looked down at you, some of the stone softening in his eyes as he did. He squeezed your hand twice before looking over at Mateo who dutifully began to walk forward. It wasn’t lost on you that he stood in front of you rather than Pedro. 

It was more than you anticipated. As soon as the front door opened you were practically blinded, flash after flash going off. You wove your arm around Pedro’s bicep, trusting him to guide you in the direction the car was in. You walked as quickly as you could in your heels, only slowing slightly when you realized your dress was starting to ride up your thighs a bit. 

You could barely make out most of the words that were being yelled at you, but one voice stood out above the rest of the frenzy.

“Nice legs sexy, let us see em!”

And you weren’t the only one who heard.

“What the fuck did you just say?” Pedro turned, and he would have stopped walking if Mateo’s strong grip on his shoulder hadn’t kept him moving towards the car. 

“Get in the car Pedro,” he said matter of factly, opening the door. Pedro waited for you to slide across the backseat first, blocking the opening just in case your maneuvering revealed anything you didn’t want on display.

“I want his name,” Pedro demanded.

“In the car,” Mateo repeated, shaking his head. Pedro looked at you quickly, saw that you were tucked back into the seat as far as you could be and felt his chest tighten. It didn’t matter then, all he needed was to be closer to you. He ducked in and the door shut behind him.

Mateo was quick to circle around to the driver's seat and you were on the road almost immediately, the crowd already scattering behind you in search of their next victim for the evening. 

“Fucking assholes,” Pedro growled, eyes trained out the back windshield for only a moment before he turned to you. “Are you alright?” 

“Yeah, yeah I’m good.” It couldn’t have taken more than 30 seconds for you all to get to the car, but your pulse was racing and your ears were ringing and despite your best efforts, your eyes were watering just slightly from the adrenaline. You fought it and won, determined not to cry and add any more fuel to Pedro’s fire. Very little made him mad, but when you were mistreated, there were no bounds he wouldn’t cross. 

“Are you sure?” He found your hand against the leather, eyes hardening when he felt how clammy it was and realized you were hiding how upset you actually were.

“I’m okay,” you whispered, trying to play it off. “That was just a lot.”

“I’m sorry, so so sorry.” His voice was small again. 

“Don’t apologize for them, amor. You didn’t ask for that, it’s not your fault,” you reminded him, lifting his hand up to your lips and kissing his knuckles softly. This wasn’t a new conversation.

“You wouldn’t have to deal with any of that if you weren’t with-“

“Pedro, stop. You know I don’t care about the pictures.”

“The fucking nerve of that guy to say that shit to you…” You could feel the anger roll off him in waves.

“It’s not the first time I’ve heard some shit like that, it’s not the last-”

“And that makes it okay? That’s supposed to make me feel better about it?” He looked at you, exasperated, and somewhat confused that you weren’t as upset as he was. 

“No, of course it’s not okay, but I can handle it. I’m fine.”

You saw him open his mouth again to argue and you knew it would be futile, so you used your last line of defense. You leaned over and kissed him, bracing your hand on his thigh and molding your lips to his. Of course he kissed you back - he’d never had that much self control, but his lips were unrelenting at first, words unsaid keeping his mind racing and away from you. 

“I’m okay Pedrito,” you murmured, kissing along his jaw, smiling when your lips found the smooth heart shaped gap in his beard. “I’m safe, I’m happy, I’m here with you.” 

Your words pulled him back a fraction, your lips helping his jaw to unlock from where he had it clenched. He ran a warm hand along your thigh, trying to ground himself. 

“Bésame,” you asked. His eyes softened - something about you speaking Spanish always got to him and he obliged you, leaning over to kiss you sweetly. He cupped your face gently, getting lost in you for a few minutes of the drive until you were both satisfied. You settled afterwards, with your head on his shoulder, smiling each time he pressed a kiss to your forehead or your hair. 

But you could still feel the tension in his posture, see it in the way he led you into the house when Mateo parked the car, and you knew the storm hadn’t passed. So it wasn’t a total surprise that Pedro stopped in the living room instead of following his usual path to the bedroom. 

“Hey,” you tried. “I’m going to go change, are you coming?”

“Yeah, I’ll be right there.” You watched him pull his phone out of his pocket, mind already on his next task. You didn’t push it - his heart was in the right place. Always the protector. And so you went about your evening, changing out of your dress (though it would have been easier with Pedro there to help with the zipper) and into a cute matching pj set, perching in bed and waiting. 

And waiting. And waiting. 

Your patience waned after 15 minutes, and you peeked your head out of the bedroom doorway, only barely able to make out the outline of your boyfriend standing on the living room balcony, the sliding door half open and his agitated voice flowing in. 

You settled yourself with a deep breath and moved back into your room, then to the bathroom and over to the clawfoot tub, starting up a bath. When all else failed, you always turned to water. You took your time doctoring it up with all your favorite products until the bathroom resembled a bit of a spa. The only thing missing then was Pedro. 

So you went in search of him, again unsurprised to see him still on the phone. You caught the tail end of his conversation as you pushed the sliding door out of your way. 

��- had to be someone there… Yes, I can respect that you don’t think it was, but I am very respectfully informing you that you’re fucking wrong. Someone within that building sold us out to the paps, and you’re going to figure out who it was, so I can figure out who the hell was outside harassing my girlfriend and who the fuck they work for.”

You slid your hand up Pedro’s back as a way of announcing your presence, coming around to his side and ducking under his arm that was braced against the railing. You wedged yourself between him and the metal, facing him with a smile that he briefly returned, phone still pressed to his ear. With a wiggle of your fingers you motioned for him to hand it to you, your other hand resting on his hip. 

With a small sigh he gave in, passing you his phone. You could hear the restaurant manager babbling and you muted the mic for a moment so you could speak freely.

“I’ll be right there expired a while ago amor,” you teased.

“I’m sorry baby, I just-”

“Don’t let that dick steal any more of our night. We’re okay. I’m okay. I’m safe, I’m happy, I’m here with you,” you repeated your words from earlier, getting up on your tiptoes to brush your nose against his. His resolve was fading, but there was still a dull fire in his eyes, aching to defend you.

“We don’t get enough time like this as it is, let’s enjoy it, yeah?” You hummed, kissing him only once before checking to see. As expected, it worked, and your Pedro was back, all traces of his anger gone from his face. He took his phone back, hanging up without another thought and slipping it away into his pocket.

“Sorry cariño, I got carried away.”

“Apology accepted in the form of you, in the bathtub with wine in the next two minutes,” you grinned, kissing him again and ducking under his arm before disappearing to the bathroom. 

He didn’t disappoint. You had barely stripped and sunk into the water when he returned, two glasses in one hand with a bottle of wine in an ice bucket in the other. 

“Looks like I missed the show,” he teased, looking down at your pile of clothes on the floor. 

“That’s what happens when you’re late. But hey, I’m in my seat and ready for the next act.”

That got a chuckle out of him, paired with a blush that warmed your heart. He took care of you first, pouring two glasses of wine and passing one to you before he got to work taking off his dinner clothes.

You attempted to dog whistle for him, which only ended in you breathing aggressively on your two fingers with a bit of spit ending up in the bathtub, and Pedro giving you a look of pity before you were both laughing. 

“I’ve really got to teach you how to do that love.”

“Oh shut up and get in here.”

You offered him a hand, scooting up so he could settle in behind you. As soon as he was in the water he was guiding you back to lean on his chest, arms coiling around you to hold you to him as he kissed your temple. 

“Does this mean we’re never going to that restaurant again? Cause my capellini was really good,” you ran your fingers up and down his arm that crossed your chest. 

He was silent for a moment before he spoke. “I can make you good capellini.”

You leaned to the side until you could look back at him, quirking an eyebrow. 

“I… can hire you a chef to make you good capellini,” he grinned sheepishly, laughing as he held you against his chest. You relished in the sound as it echoed off the tiles, kissing his skin. 

“I’m kidding baby, we don’t have to go back,” you reassured him. Deciding you’d spent long enough unable to see his face, you maneuvered so you were next to him instead, resting your cheek on his chest with your legs intertwined under the bubbles. It was blissful, and you only sat up to sip your wine or kiss him. 

You enjoyed the silence and soft kisses, light traces of each other’s skin under the water through your first glass, but your tongue loosened up by the second one. 

“Can I ask you something kinda serious?”

“Anything amor,” he hummed, interest piqued.

“Would you ever trade it? The fame, for getting your privacy back?”

“If you’d asked me that before I met you, I would have said no. But I think the answer now might be yes.”

You pushed up off his chest so you could see his eyes, waiting for him to explain. 

“It comes with my job, and my job is all I ever wanted. It’s been my dream since I can remember. I worked my whole life for it, and somewhere deep down I always knew that there were downsides that would come with it if I ever made it big. You hear the horror stories of the crazy people, the stalkers, the paparazzi. And when you’re just trying to make it, it almost makes you jealous in a way. It’s like ‘damn, well if anybody gave a fuck about who I was maybe I’d have to worry about that’. And then you get your break-”

“And people are asking to put their thumbs on your eyeballs in the streets of NYC,” you grin.

“Yeah, yeah exactly. But when it was just me, I could always stomach it because it was also a reminder of like ‘hey, you made it. This is happening because you made it into the big leagues’, you know? But it’s not a fun or glamorous part of it. And now it’s affecting the people I love, and I can’t do normal fucking things, like take you out on a normal date night without us getting swarmed. And you deserve that. You deserve to get your capellini in peace, and I don’t know if I’m ever going to be able to give you that, because that part of my life is always going to be there.”

The sadness on his face brought tears to your eyes, and you turned his face to look at you.

“You’re worth it Pedro.” 

The sadness didn’t budge.

“I mean it,” you continued. “You’re worth all of it. You’re worth more.”

The next kiss was deeper. His lips caught yours with a new appreciation, his teeth catching your bottom lip making your breath freeze in your chest. His arms moved under the water, shifting your body around until you were straddling his thighs, your elbows braced on his shoulders, fingers in his wet hair. 

When you finally broke free to catch your breath, he was looking up at you as if you’d hung the moon. 

“I need you to remind me of that. On the bad days,” he whispered. It wasn’t often that he asked you for reassurances, and the entire premise of it made you melt. 

“Of course baby. Of course I will. You’re always going to be worth it to me, because I love you.” 

“I love you more.”

You shook your head at that, folding down to rest your head on his shoulder. He traced his finger over your spine, back and forth slowly as he kissed your skin. 

“You know, we don’t have to stay in LA when you aren’t filming,” you mused after a few minutes.

“Where would you want to go love? I’ll take you wherever you like.”

“No, I don’t mean a vacation. I mean, we’re in the worst city for privacy in the world. Even New York is better than here, and we already have your place there.” 

He pondered it for a moment, twirling a piece of your hair in his fingers. “I wouldn’t mind spending more time in New York. Don’t know that it would solve our paparazzi problem though, they’re still pretty bad there.”

“Then we could go even further. Not long term, but I mean hell. Oscar has that second house in Hawaii he always offers to us, you know he’d let us stay. Or we could go to Chile, see your family.” 

“Chile? You’d go to Chile?”

“Why not?” You asked. “I mean, I don’t know that I’d want to move that far away, but of course I’d love to go for longer than just the few days we got to go last time.”

“You’d do that for me?” 

You weren’t sure if it was the wine, or the pure bewilderment on his face, or maybe the realization that he just couldn’t fathom how much you truly loved him, but you began to laugh. 

“What do I have to do to get it through that brain of yours hmm?” 

“You’re worth it-” you punctuated it with a kiss before you continued. “I love you-” another. “I’d do anything for you.” He was smiling then, leaning up to meet you. “I’d go anywhere with you.”

“Yeah?” He murmured against your lips, chasing you in a bid to kiss you longer. 

“I’d marry you tomorrow if you asked.” The words stumbled off your tongue before you could stop them, but you didn’t care, you were too wine drunk and in love to think about them.

Pedro caught them though, kissing you again with a smile and waiting for you to lean back. 

“Tomorrow huh?” 

You blushed as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Well in that case I need to call the jeweler and see if they’re still open this late.” He dramatically pretended to check his watch, making you roll your eyes at his antics.

“Ah yes, nothing like a Friday night ring shopping escapade.”

“Who says I still need to shop? I bet they’d let me pick it up, it should be done.” 

You felt your mouth drop open, but you couldn’t quite find the muscles to close it. Pedro kept his smug smile for a moment, basking in it as he reached up with his finger on your chin. 

“You’re worth it,” he returned your words, leaning up to kiss you again. “I’d do anything for the future Mrs. Balmaceda Pascal.”

[anheliotrope]

It's always "funny" to remember that software development as field often operates on the implicit and completely unsupported assumption that security bugs are fixed faster than they are introduced, adjusting for security bug severity.

This assumption is baked into security policies that are enforced at the organizational level regardless of whether they are locally good ideas or not. So you have all sorts of software updating basically automatically and this is supposedly proof that you deserve that SOC2 certification.

Different companies have different incentives. There are two main incentives:

Limiting legal liability

Improving security outcomes for users

Most companies have an overwhelming proportion of the first incentive.

This would be closer to OK if people were more honest about it, but even within a company they often start developing The Emperor's New Clothes types of behaviour.

---

I also suspect that security has generally been a convenient scapegoat to justify annoying, intrusive and outright abusive auto-updating practices in consumer software. "Nevermind when we introduced that critical security bug and just update every day for us, alright??"

Product managers almost always want every user to be on the latest version, for many reasons of varying coherence. For example, it enables A/B testing (provided your software doesn't just silently hotpatch it without your consent anyway).

---

I bring this up because (1) I felt like it, (2) there are a lot of not-so-well-supported assumptions in this field, which are mainly propagated for unrelated reasons. Companies will try to select assumptions that suit them.

Yes, if someone does software development right, the software should converge towards being more secure as it gets more updates. But the reality is that libraries and applications are heavily heterogenous -- they have different risk profiles, different development practices, different development velocities, and different tooling. The correct policy is more complicated and contextual.

Corporate incentives taint the field epistemologically. There's a general desire to confuse what is good for the corporation with what is good for users with what is good for the field.

The way this happens isn't by proposing obviously insane practices, but by taking things that sound maybe-reasonable and artificially amplifying confidence levels. There are aspects of the distortion that are obvious and aspects of the distortion that are most subtle. If you're on the inside and never talked to weird FOSS people, it's easy to find it normal.

One of the eternal joys and frustrations of being a software developer is trying to have effective knowledge about software development. And generally a pre-requisite to that is not believing false things.

For all the bullshit that goes on in the field, I feel _good_ about being able to form my own opinions. The situation, roughly speaking, is not rosy, but learning to derive some enjoyment from countering harmful and incorrect beliefs is a good adaptation. If everyone with a clue becomes miserable and frustrated then computing is doomed. So my first duty is to myself -- to talk about such things without being miserable. I tend to do a pretty okay job at that.

[kybercrystals94]

Left Handed

Read here on Ao3!

Febuwhump 2024 | Day 15 | Prompt 15: “Who did this to you?”

Rated: G | Words: 574 | Summary: Echo doesn't want to disclose his attacker after an altercation. [Character Focus: Omega, Echo, Tech, Hunter, Wrecker]

“Does it hurt?” Omega asks, leaning over the back of the copilot’s chair she is standing on.

Echo almost tells her that chairs are for sitting not standing. However, Tech chooses this exact moment to touch a swab of antiseptic against the cut split across his cheekbone. Echo hisses a curse before remembering his audience. “Maker! Warn a guy, Tech!”

“Apologies,” Tech responds automatically, not sounding remotely apologetic.

Omega drapes herself further over the back of the seat, arms dangling. “What happened? Were you in a fight?”

“Something like that,” Echo grumbles, avoiding eye contact.

“What was the cause of this altercation?” Tech asks, digging through the med kit for an appropriately sized bacta patch.

“Not important,” Echo says.

Tech hums, unconvinced. “Obviously your attacker is left handed.”

“Oh, because he was punched on the right side of his face?” Omega asks.

“Precisely,” Tech says. “That narrows down the suspect pool considerably.”

“There is no suspect pool!” Echo declares.

“Why don’t you want us to know who it is?” Omega asks. “Is it someone we know? Someone from Cid’s?”

“We don’t know anyone at Cid’s who is left handed.”

“True. But maybe they just used their left hand to throw us off.”

“As far as we know, this was not a premeditated attack,” Tech counters. “In the heat of a fight, I doubt the perpetrator would take that into consideration.”

Echo sighs. “I promise, this is nothing you need to worry about.”

“I disagree. If you have made an enemy, I think that we should know who in case they feel the need to retaliate,” Tech argues warmly.

Hunter and Wrecker come into the cockpit then, back from their supply run.

“Omega,” is the only warning Hunter has to give to make the girl sink into a sitting position, but spinning the chair around with a kick to face her brothers.

“What happened to you?” Wrecker asks, leaning forward to inspect Echo’s injury for himself before Tech can cover it with a bandage.

“Someone punched him in the face!” Omega supplies eagerly.

“What?” Hunter asks, sounding alarmed.

“It’s not–” Echo begins.

Wrecker cuts him off. “Who did it? We’ll go teach ‘em a lesson!”

“Echo refuses to disclose that information,” Tech says disapprovingly, applying the bacta patch to Echo’s face.

“But we know they were left handed,” Omega puts in.

“Wait, listen…” Echo tries again, but Hunter interrupts him this time.

“This isn’t something you should keep from the team, Echo. You of all people should know that,” Hunter says gravely.

Echo stands, throwing up his arms in frustration. “There was no attacker!”

A beat of silence.

Omega scrunches up her face. “Then how…?”

“I ran into a wall, okay? I wasn’t paying attention when I turned a corner, and this,” he indicates the wound with a dramatic splay of his hand, “happened.”

His brothers and sister stare at him. Then, Omega cracks a tiny grin and in a small voice asks, “Do you want us to beat up the wall for you, Echo?”

One of the brothers snorts a laugh. Echo isn’t sure which one. He just sighs and walks out of the cockpit, face burning.

“You just tell us which wall it was, and we’ll take care of it!” Wrecker calls after him. This officially sends the four siblings at Echo’s back into hysterics.

He rolls his eyes, but doesn’t turn around, hiding the fond smirk that creeps across his face.

END

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[flowerandblood]

My Best Friend (5)

[modern! club owner • Aemond x fem!reader]    

[warnings: smut, sex content, fingering, kissing, fluff]

[description: Aemond has his own club and often does business at the home of one of his business associates. There he often meets his younger sister, with whom he develops a deeper relationship through shared secrets.   This is slow burn love story.]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Previous and next chapters: Masterlist    

_____   

Aemond woke to the sound of someone taking a shower. The sun was shining brightly and it was very warm. A real summer morning. He looked around and tried to remember, where he was. 

He was on their couch again, realizing, he had arrived yesterday for Klaus's birthday. He rubbed his temple, trying to remember exactly what he'd done last night, and froze.

"No. It was probably just my drunken dream." He tried to calm himself down, but his heart was pounding. 

As if through a fog, he saw her gaze, warm cheeks, hair, felt her lips and tender, delicate hands. He clenched his jaw at the thought. 

Then he realized, that when he finally lay down on the couch he couldn't sleep, because of how turned on he was, so he just relieved himself with his hand. His eye flicked to the floor, where a rolled-up handkerchief lay. He buried his face in his hands and made a low, frustrated sound.

The sound of a hair dryer was coming from the bathroom now. Aemond shuddered, suspecting, that Y/N was drying her long, dark hair. Automatically, his nostrils remembered the scent of her shampoo. 

He squeezed his eye shut, wondering, what he should do when, she come out. Maybe he should just get up and drive straight to his apartment? The option of running away tempted him, but part of him felt, that he shouldn’t left without explanation. Though he didn't know, what really happened between them.

He flinched as he heard the bathroom door open. Y/N walked down the hall into the kitchen, their eyes met. Aemond was relieved as she smiled as usual, but she couldn't hide her slight embarrassment. Her hair was still slightly damp. She was wearing the same pajamas he'd seen earlier, with a black T-shirt that said "Depeche Mode" and shorts, that showed off her slender legs.

"Good morning." She said with honest smile. 

He could see, that she had trouble looking at his face. 

"Like I promised, I got up on time." She said feisty, the corner of her mouth raised even higher, although he could see, that she was also fighting a headache. 

"What would you like to eat? Maybe sandwiches?" She answered herself, looking around the kitchen for an idea. “Klaus is probably in agony, I didn’t want to wake him, so there is no point in preparing anything warm.”

"Sandwiches sound good." He answered calmly, his voice less confident, than he would have liked and even lower than usual, slightly hoarse. He cleared his throat, and she nodded, taking his approval as a signal for action.

He watched silently as she put on the water for tea and turn on the coffee maker. How she took rolls out of the haversack, and from the refrigerator lettuce, ham, tomatoes, chives, and a whole host of other vegetables, that she obviously wanted to use. She spread them all over the counter, her hands trembling slightly, but her face showed no nervousness.

She shivered as Aemond stood up. Calmly, unhurriedly, he walked to the kitchen and tossed his rolled-up handkerchief into the wastebasket. Y/N stared at him and suddenly she understood, what that meant. 

Her eyes widened, as her cheeks burned and she turned away immediately, trying to focus on her task. Aemond saw her swallow hard. She knew, what he was doing, when he came downstairs. This made him question, what she was doing. 

She was two years younger than him, Klaus had never mentioned her having a boyfriend. For some reason, the idea, that she was probably much less experienced than he was - if any - turned him on. To control his flow of thoughts, he moved closer to her.

"Can I help?" He asked, looking at the little mess, that she had created on the counter from all the products lying around. 

Her pupils widened as she saw, how close he was to her, but to his amusement, she tried to keep a serious face. She pursed her lips, and he could see her trying not to smile, feeling, that the situation between them was comical to say the least. For some reason, he had an overwhelming urge to tease her, to make her ashamed.

"Hmm, you can cut the tomatoes, if you want." She said, forcing her usual smug voice and pushing the vegetables closer to him and handing him the knife. He took it from her without a word and began to do, what she asked. 

Y/N was standing next to him, their shoulders touching even though, there was still plenty of space in the kitchen and they didn't have to stand so close to each other. She was a head shorter than him, if she wanted to lean against him, her head would land on his shoulder. 

Aemond watched from the corner of his eye as she worked, layering the buns with different ingredients, varying them each time, so that no sandwich was the same. He tried to think only about cutting, but he felt her herbal hair shampoo again, which already reminded him so much of her, that instead of calming down, he began to feel warmth in the lower abdomen.

"Did you sleep well?" He asked suddenly, arranging the tomato slices on each sandwich, where she'd told him to. She looked at him, surprised by his question, and nodded, looking at him gratefully.

"Yes, thank you. And you?" She asked, arranging sandwiches on plates. Aemond thought about his answer for a moment, letting out a low hum.

"At first I couldn't sleep." He said and felt her twitch. The corner of his mouth went up. "But I managed it somehow." He finished, glancing at her reaction. 

He heard her swallow hard, but she didn't dare to look at him. 

"And you?" He asked, surprising her again and receiving a puzzled look. "Did you fall asleep right away?"

She stared at him with wide eyes, her mouth opened as if she wanted to say something, but she closed it and tightened it, blushed, and looked away. He knew, she understood, what he was implying. He himself began to understand Klaus more and more, and why he constantly teased and tormented her. Her reactions were worth it. 

He stared at her for a moment and, seeing her thrashing around, decided to take pity on her. He leaned down slightly and pressed his nose to her cheek, just as she had done to him yesterday. Y/N froze, he felt a shiver go through her. He himself felt the immediate reaction of his body to their close contact. The difference was, that this time, they were both sober.

"There is no reason to be ashamed." He spoke softly, his voice so close to her ear making her flinch slightly. "I was thinking about you too."

For a moment, all he could hear, was the pounding of their hearts. He had no idea, why he was doing this to her. He desired her physically, but there was more to it. What she gave him yesterday. 

He didn't know how to call it, but he wanted it again. That heat in the chest, those tender, quickened breaths. He stood there, waiting for her reaction. A few seconds passed, before she turned her face towards him. Their noses were touching now. 

She raised a hand tentatively, her fingers trembling, as she touched his face. The tips of her fingers touched part of his scar, which was visible from under the eyepatch. She swallowed hard, running her fingers up and down from his scar to the corner of his mouth. 

He felt a heat in his chest, his hand went under her hair, his fingers tightening lightly on the back of her neck. He began to massage her skin with his thumb and she exhaled softly, her eyes expressing everything. 

Holding her neck steady, he leaned in slightly, their lips touching spontaneously. They were more brushes than kisses, both of them with their lips parted, breathing deeply. 

Y/N dared to run her hand through his hair, stroking it and pulling his face to hers. He purred contentedly into her mouth. He pulled her closer to him, searching for a real, sticky kiss, their movements accompanied by a light clicking each time. 

He moved closer to her, the bulge in his pants now pressing against her belly. Y/N sucked in a breath, but only a soft "Shhh..." between kisses came out of his mouth. 

Suddenly, Aemond broke away from her. She looked at him with a hazy, questioning look. She didn't have time to ask why he stopped, though, because he tugged her arm lightly, turning her back to face the counter, and he stood behind her, hugging her. 

He brushed her hair from her neck with one hand, and placed the other in a safe place on her stomach. His fingers gently traveled up and down her shirt, as he placed gentle kisses on her neck.

Y/N inhaled faster, as she felt his hardness against her buttocks. Instinctively, she placed her hands on the tabletop, looking for any point of support. Her legs felt like jelly. She felt, that his breathing was also accelerated and she was not the only one affected by their actions.

"Have you ever slept with a man?" He asked softly, his nose touching her ear, his hand finding its way under her shirt and touching the bare skin of her belly. 

Y/N made a short, high-pitched noise and shook her head after a second. Aemond groaned, pulling her closer to him. 

"If you want me to stop, all you have to do is say No." He whispered, his breathing getting heavier, his hips pressing harder against hers, seeking any pressure. 

"It doesn't matter at what point. Understand?" He asked, gripping her neck tighter. 

She nodded, her eyes closed and clenched, breathing heavily. Her reaction made him grunt in contentment, his hips rubbing against her, sending an instant wave of pleasure. 

His nose traveled from her cheek to her neck, kissing her more and more lustfully. His hand, stroking her belly steadily, went down slowly, to her panties. She let out a sudden moan and he paused, to give her a moment to protest. When he didn't hear it, he went down with his fingers and was delighted to find, that she was all wet.

His touch there made her all tense, her hands clenched on the counter, her buttocks pressing harder against his throbbing manhood. 

"Easy." He whispered between breaths, trying to calm her down. "Have you touched yourself like this before?" He asked in between the slow movements around her clit, that practically made her spasm. He hadn't done anything to her yet, and he felt both he and she were on edge. 

Y/N only replied a soft, broken "Yes". Her cheeks were red with embarrassment. Aemond smirked, then realized, that they were both rubbing their bodies against each other. He sighed with pleasure in her ear.

Taking advantage of the fact, that his fingers were already covered in her fluids, he slid them down, massaging her entrance. 

"Spread your legs." He commanded softly. Y/N leaned in even further, her mouth slightly parted, eyes squeezed shut, fighting with all her might to keep quiet. 

He slid the tip of his finger inside her, and a low moan escaped his chest as he felt, how tight and hot she was inside. He wondered, how he was going to get inside her, without tearing her apart.

Instinctively, he began to search for her pleasure point, gently exploring her structure with his finger, sliding it in and out in a calm, steady motion. She moved her hips to the beat of his fingers, his touch and his hard cock pressing against her from behind, completely clouding her mind. 

Suddenly she felt his finger glide over the right spot inside her, near her entrance, and she let out a startled groan, that made Aemond smile to himself.

“That's what I was looking for. It's okay. It's okay, little one." His words made her walls tighten around his finger. 

Aemond groaned as he felt Y/N getting closer to fulfillment. She was moving faster and faster, moaning sweetly. He stopped abruptly, gently slipped his finger out of her, and she sucked in a breath, startled and confused. Her cheeks were all red, her breathing ragged and fast. 

He spun her around, grabbed her hips, and lifted her up, walking with her toward the stairs to the second floor. She quickly wrapped her arms around his neck, surprised, staring at him with wide eyes. He opened the door to her room and placed her on her bed. He closed the door behind him, turning the lock with the key.

He turned to Y/N and she stared at him with wide eyes, trembling. He walked over to the bed, undoing his belt.

"Do you want to continue?" He asked low and calm, his eye dark with lust. 

Y/N looked at him and swallowed hard. She didn't know why, but she wanted to do it with him. She had always liked him. She valued and admired him. She thought him a very handsome, beautiful man, and the scar in her eyes only added to his mystery. 

She knew, that he was experienced and that he wouldn't hurt her. That if something goes wrong, he'll stop. Place between her thighs throbbed with pain, she felt so close to fullfilment. 

She nodded and they both groaned. Aemond sat down on the bed in front of her, took off his shirt quickly, and encouraged her to do the same.

"I want to see you." He whispered, looking at her expectantly. 

She stared at his chest and muscles. She could see, that he was training and keeping fit, and he was a lot bigger than her. The sight of him made her feel even more tight down below, and wordlessly, she did as he instructed. 

She pulled her shirt over her head and laid down with her arms folded on either side of her head, staring at him with her mouth slightly parted. Aemond stared at her for a moment. He wanted to remember this sight. 

Involuntarily, his hand reached for one of her soft, firm breasts. They both moaned as he squeezed it, Y/N throwing her head back, her hand going to his, encouraging him to keep going. 

His thumb teased her nipple, and she moaned softly, trying not to make any loud noises, knowing, that Klaus was sleeping a few rooms away. Aemond leaned over her suddenly, and she wrapped her arms tightly around him. They kissed, his tongue squeezing over her lips, meeting the muffled moan of her pleasure. He pressed his chest against hers and purred into her mouth.

He broke away from her after a while with a quiet, wet click and went down a little lower, grabbing her shorts and panties at the same time. He looked at her, and when there was no objection, he slid them off her with one, firm motion and tossed them aside. 

Her own nakedness embarrassed her, and she turned her face to the window, breathing heavily. His hand on her jaw forced her to look at him. 

"Spread your legs." He said low. She knew, that he was on the edge himself. 

The sound of that sentence made her shiver, and she did, as he asked, all red. Aemond grabbed her thighs and lifted them higher, swung one of her legs over his shoulder, lifting her buttocks. 

Y/N gasped in surprise, tensing up all over her body. She had never been so exposed to anyone, her whole body was shaking. Aemond felt it, ran his hand gently over her leg, which was on his shoulder, and kissed her thigh softly.

"Easy, little one. Easy." He said, kissing her lower and lower. “It’s okay.”

She realized, what he wanted to do and swallowed deeply. As she felt his kisses on her entrance and his tongue forcing its way inside, she threw her head back and pursed her lips tightly, suppressing the hard moan, that became a low, guttural sound. 

She breathed heavily, as she felt him speed up, moaning as softly as she could, his tongue pressing against the spot, where his fingers had previously pressed.

"Aemond..." She moaned softly, as if she was about to cry, her hips moving fast, her hand buried in his hair. Normally, he would have teased and tormented her, but not now. When he felt she was almost at her climax, he stopped abruptly, a sound coming from her mouth answered him, as if he was hurting her.

Aemond took his wallet out of his pants pocket and took out a condom, tossing it on the sheets beside her. Her chest heaved up and down rapidly, as she watched his pants and boxers being pulled down without taking his eye off her. She realized, that they were really going to do it and felt excitement mixed with immense desire. 

She watched as he put a condom on his swollen, large cock. She settled back and swallowed, looking at him expectantly. Aemond moved toward her and bent his elbows over her head. They stared at each other for a moment, their noses touching. Y/N threaded her fingers through his hair and pulled him to her, planting tender kisses on his lips, that made him sigh in contentment.

His heart was pounding like crazy. He brushed her lips, preparing himself and her for what was to come. He took his manhood in his hand and placed his tip at her entrance. 

"Wider." He pleaded, and she immediately opened her thighs, letting out a soft moan, as he pressed against her. They both took a deep breath as he entered her slightly. She was so tight and hot, that he couldn't think straight. 

"Wait" She said softly, drawing in a breath, her face showing discomfort. Aemond stopped at once, the only sound in the room was their rapid breathing.

 He looked at her fair face, slightly parted lips and thought, that he had never been so soft with anyone. He rested his forehead against hers and closed his eye. 

"Everything's all right?" He asked quietly. She nodded, swallowing hard. She touched his cheek with her hand, stroking it steadily, trying to relax. After a long moment, she moved her hips slightly towards him. He let out a soft sigh and kissed her.

What he was doing now, was not the way, he used to have sex with other women. Today, with her, he wanted something different. He moved inside her again, softly, trying to slide his cock deeper inside her. 

She pressed her eyes and lips together, gripping his arm painfully. He paused again to let her get used to his size and the way he stretched her. He kissed her with a purr, and she kissed him back with sigh, relaxing a bit. He pushed his hips deeper and moaned loudly as he felt that somehow, he fit all of him inside her.

"Fuck..." He gasped low, as his cock throbbed all over. He was too turned on, and her walls were giving him too much pressure. His eyebrows expressed concern, and he squeezed his eye shut. 

Y/N looked at him and stroked his cheek, both of them breathing heavily. She kissed him lightly, again and again, and they lay there for a while, just kissing. Birds chirping could be heard from behind the slightly open window, and pleasant summer air flowed into the room, now more crisp and cool. 

He moved his hips slightly, and a soft moan escaped her lips. Encouraged, that her face no longer showed either pain or discomfort, he began to slide lazily in and out of her, as if he had all the time in the world. He noticed, that the frequency of his movements corresponded to the ticking of the clock.

The pressure inside her was incomparable to anything else. The air tightened in his lungs, as he entered her again and again. Her hips began to move, thrusting out to meet him. Feeling it, he involuntarily sped up and they both moaned loudly.

"Aemond...please, don't stop" She pleaded, feeling, that she was close again and wouldn't survive, if he refused her once again. 

Her words made him thrust deeper into her, moaning, though he tried with what little of his willpower, not to do so with all the strength he had. Her walls were clenching around him, his movements becoming faster and uncontrollable. 

He got up, so that he was kneeling in front of her, still inside her, took her hips in his hands and began to thrust inside her harder, panting heavily. For Y/N the change of position was bliss, his cock pressing down on the place, that felt so good, begging for fulfillment. She moaned softly, trying to contain herself, but he wanted to hear her, and his every thrust proved it. He felt, she was close. 

“Such a sweet girl” He said in a low voice, panting heavily, as he felt her clench more and more, knowing, he wouldn't last much longer either. “... show me. Come one my cock like a good girl you are.” He said, fucking her loudly and mercilessly with wet slaps, being so close to his fulfillment.

That sentence from his mouth, at that moment, was the end for her. Her body twisted backwards, she took a deep breath, as if she was drowning. Her hands clenched on the pillow behind her back and she moaned loudly, as her orgasm flowed through her body in strong waves. 

"Fuck!” He groaned loudly, looking pleadingly at her with his mouth parted. Her steady pressure of orgasm, combined with his thrusts, made him come so hard that he bent over, panting like a wild animal. His orgasm felt like an eternity.

He involuntarily entered her lightly a few more times, feeling her whole body soften. Breathing heavily, he released her thighs and lay forward, resting his face next to hers, partly on his hands so, he didn’t crush her completely.

For a few minutes, they both just breathed loudly with their eyes closed. He was still in her, the feeling of her warmth around him made him reluctant to slid out. 

Y/N lightly stroked his hair, which was now completely messy, and he just hummed softly in approval. She turned her face towards him and he opened his eye. Their foreheads touched. They looked at each other in silence. Warmth could be seen in their eyes.

"Everything's all right?" He asked quietly, feeling completely drained. Y/N smiled at his question, her eyes brightening.

"Yes." She replied just as quietly. "But I hope Klaus didn't hear us. If it's possible." She said with amusement, her hand lazily running through his hair. His thumb lightly stroked her cheek. He laughed at her words.

“It's unlikely. Although, if he did, we'd probably already know about it."

[thatgirl4815]

Heyyy! I'm obsessed with your posts and I wanted to get your take on what you thought about the subtle power play between Ray and Boeing in the pool scene? It feels like there's a lot of unspoken tension there. How do you think Sand fits into their dynamic? This may have already been answered somewhere else but it has been eating away at me since I watched the episode

Hi! Thank you! :) <3 That's a great question. Actually, I've been meaning to analyze this scene in detail but hadn't gotten around to it before now, so I'm glad you brought this up. I bring you...

THE POOL SCENE OF DOOM - ANALYSIS

The tension was tensioning in the pool scene in the worst way possible. Part of what makes it so compelling, albeit aggravating, as a viewer is that Ray and Boeing are both aware of what the other is doing. I believe Boeing can sense just how tense Ray is around him, and I suspect he enjoys the fact that Ray is playing back at him. The fact that they are both hiding behind very imperfect guises (a topic I discuss a bit more here) is also interesting in that it illustrates how Boeing and Ray are actually more similar than they might like to admit. It's especially ironic given that Boeing pointedly states that Ray does not seem like Sand's type, though as some others have pointed out, they actually appear pretty similar.

To get a little more specific: the pool scene starts off with Boeing diving into the water, which automatically strikes me as a concerted effort to show off. It's already setting the mood and establishing the power dynamic that Boeing wants to impose. The positioning is also noteworthy as Sand is seated very judgmentally at the table overlooking Ray and Boeing, indicating that he is the one who ultimately has all the power.

The dialogue in the scene is relatively minute, but that only makes it that much more intense. Boeing asks Sand why he won't get in the pool, Sand replies that he doesn't have any extra underwear, and that's followed by a long shot of Ray staring at Sand in what I imagine is an effort to determine why Sand is coming up with excuses rather than just speaking out directly.

Ray's behavior towards Sand around Boeing suggests that he wants Sand to make a direct move against Boeing, yet Sand's discomfort and frustration are the only signs that he wants Boeing gone. This isn't good enough for Ray, who interestingly opts to make the situation more uncomfortable in the hopes of finally forcing Sand to act. I believe that's why he tells Sand that he can get naked to join them in the pool.

Sand continues to do the opposite of what Ray wants, while Boeing counters Ray's question with a jab of his own--the most direct one we've heard from him, stating that he's already seen all parts of Sand. Ray's expression is just pure gold to me because it so perfectly encapsulates the feelings of this scene. He's smiling, but the pent-up anger is so prominent. The man is seething.

Boeing floats away while Ray notably turns his back on Sand as he walks to the back of the pool. Then we have Sand getting into the water and walking towards the pair of them, even standing between them in the end to definitively position himself as the man in the middle. The look Sand gives back to Ray there tells me that he knows exactly how frustrated Ray is, but when he looks at Boeing, there's a split second of pain on his face, like he doesn't know how to say what he knows he should say.

In general, I'd say Boeing and Ray both understand each other's motives on some level, but it's Sand who's caught in the middle. Sand is well aware of what's happening too, but though he is the one ideally suited to put a stop to it--being the connecting point between Ray and Boeing--this is the point where he ultimately struggles most. He doesn't want to upset Ray, but he also doesn't know how to reject Boeing. That's the point I think is so important--it isn't that Sand is ignorant, it's that he is uncomfortable with the idea of standing up to Boeing, even if Boeing has hurt him terribly. Those connections he has built with the people he cares for run so deep that severing them is difficult, and that ironically can lead to other problems with those he cares about (in this case, Ray). I talk about that idea a little more in the post I linked above as well.

Going to finish out with this pic of Ray^ because I had to pause while rewatching it to admire his beauty. I don't want him to be angry but I also happen to think he looks very attractive when he's bitter. So dare-I-say it's a win either way? Lol.

[seraphofthesimps]

A Mechanic’s Manipulation - Yandere Draken x Reader

TW: possessive themes. Word count: 982

“Where the fuck are they going now?”

Over the past 3 days, the little red dot representing your car has traveled all across town, much to Draken’s dismay. A typically rather unbothered man, he hates when he gets like this. No, scratch that. He hates when you make him like this.

Well, it can’t be helped, for now. If you insist on being a pain, you can deal with the consequences. It’s better than him dealing with the excruciating pain he feels every time you leave with someone other than him without so much as a care. All he asks, without actually asking of course, is a simple check in to let him know where you are headed, with who, and why. It’s the least you could do if you honestly loved him half as much as he does you, right?

Thanking every God in the heavens he can that he had the foresight to know you would force his hand like this, he tries to calm down. He took counter-measures for this sort of thing at your last oil change 3 weeks ago. The GPS is only the first tool at his disposal. It has proven quite handy thus far but now it’s time for his trump card to shine.

“Hurry up and make it to a side street. Fuck, how long does it take you to make a turn? This is why I always drive when it’s the two of us,” his impatience fuels his agitation. However, that only lasts as long as it takes the red dot to travel through its current stoplight and into the nearest neighborhood. “There, this spot should do fine.”

One click of the mouse on his auto shop’s computer has him scoffing to himself, proud of how he’s sure to win this battle. You will probably have a bad day, but you did it to yourself. Traveling out of his boundaries, testing perimeters he doesn’t approve of — Whether you knew to ask or not is not of his concern. If you cared the way you should, the way you will one day, the way he’s going to make you, then you wouldn’t even have to think twice. Any second now..

His phone rings almost on command, your name bright across the display. A knowing chuckle leaves his chest as he answers, ready to play the knight in shining armor. All he needs is for you to beg a little. And beg you do, so pretty for him.

“What do you mean the car just shut off? Did you have any warning signs? Are you didn’t hear a noise or anything? That’s strange. Yeah, sure, I can be there in 15.”

Despite his anger with you, he keeps true to his word, leaving you none-the-wiser. As suspected from your Snap Story, you were with an unknown man, a lesser one than himself he quickly notes. Immediately popping the hood, he greets you with that same flirty smile that has you in this situation in the first place. It’s both cruel and humorous how you have the nerve to claim he has the most beautiful smile you have ever seen, yet you still refuse to be called his. No worries, he constantly reminds himself, because his smile is nothing compared to his determination. If he wants something bad enough, and boy it is quite the understatement to say he wants you, he will do whatever takes it to manipulate you into his arms. Like so.

Tinkering around with his wrench and a few bolts under the hood, he twists a valve to release a bit of steam with a dramatic hiss. It’s completely ordinary for that to happen, but he knows you don’t know any better. Your car has always been looked after by him so he knows it in and out. The only problem with it today is that he got pissed off and triggered the automatic shut off he installed last month. Greedy dealerships aren’t the only geniuses that can make use of that nifty mechanism.

“I need to get this back to the shop for diagnostics. I brought the hitch so we don’t need to call in a tow, but I can only fit the two of us in my truck with my tools. You didn’t tell me you had someone with you,” he looks to the eyesore on your left, “You don’t mind catching a lift from someone so we can take care of this right?” His smile fools you every time, telling you he only intends to help. His eyes make sure to do all the talking to your accomplice that is noticeably smarter, yet inadequate to do anything about it under Draken’s size and the false hero veil you allow him to so easily wear and abuse. Luckily for all of you right now, your friend, Draken’s self-declared competition, took the hint and says his farewell. Draken can't help but rumble out a low laugh at the way he sulks away, pulling out his phone to call for a ride as he disappears in the opposite direction. “Talk about a walk of shame,” he mumbles too low for you to hear.

The ride back to the shop is full of chatter, with Draken using the opportunity to pry into your personal life. As planned, he learns what you were doing, who the male you had with you is, and that he needs to make sure he pays him a visit to guarantee he stays far away from you. And as planned, you fall further and further into Draken’s carefully weaved web. Promises of a proper date and confessions of regret about not doing it sooner are what you graciously gift to him as a genuine thank you to your savior. Just like he expected, a little force and manipulation is all he needs to keep you right where he wants you.

[whatcouldpossiblyhappen]

We stand in front of the mirror, smiling. It's taken us a lifetime each to have the courage to look like we do.

I think back to the modesty checks before leaving the house when I was growing up-- can't inspire the boys and men to sin by showing skin. Later on-- hours spent finding the perfect outfit to get the right boy's attention, wasn't that what you're supposed to do? The boys were just theoretical, anyway, we couldn't date them until we were ready for marriage. It worked well until it didn't, and I knew standing up there in that white dress that I was just not what I had expected I was. First kiss told me the truth about myself.

Dresses feel theatrical. Probably dresses are someone's idea of their true self expression, but for me dresses are what you wear when you need to draw out a particular type of social attention. I wore them as a tool. I started asking myself questions like, do I really want this kind of attention? Is molding this kind of social energy around me encouraging how I see myself? Do I like who I am when I display femininity in this way?

Maybe these are easy questions for some people-- I suspect for lots of women these are easy answers. I wrestled with them because dresses are pretty after all, it's nice to have an outfit with just one thing on your body, because I'm vain, and mostly because they made me feel like I could ask for help and have it automatically be given. Opting in to displaying femininity in that way meant, for me, that I was choosing a mental excuse. Someone else will do it, I have a dress on and I look Pretty.

Please allow me to reiterate-- "for me", wearing a dress fosters a dependent mindset. I know now that I can ask for help regardless of what I'm wearing, but in a dress...it feels like I'm opting in to generations of women who were forced to rely on the men in their lives. I feel hobbled. I feel like I have no other choice but to ask for help, and what kind of choice is that? It doesn't even matter what I might need help with, really. I feel a driving need to be able to fight in a zombie apocalypse at any given moment and I really do think I would be hampered by flowing skirts. Please allow me to expound-- that feeling is my own, and in no way do I extend it to all y'all beautiful folks out there wearing dresses. You're gorgeous and vibrant, live your best life. If you can, with the zombies and all.

Do I feel like I'm me when I wear a dress? Absolutely not. I feel most vibrant in sturdy pants and a flannel. I love that strong, confident femmes who wear dresses stride through the world, and while I can confidently stride in a pair of heels-- in the end it's a piece of theater covering up a butch heart.

So here we are, standing in front of the mirror together. We've built ourselves purposefully, maybe even counter to what surroundings tell us we should be. I slide your suit jacket onto your shoulders and gently move my hands over your collar to draw you in for a kiss. You are a jewel made of sunlight and I want to treasure you for as long as I am able.

[bylightofdawn]

WIP Sunday

Have some Mace/Myles crumbs. Also, there are too many damn J and M names in this fic. LOL For context, Myles has been in a coma/in a bacta tank for a couple of days because he was the first to fall when shit started to go down. And now he's awake and doing his best Troy from Community impression when he walks in with pizza and finds the whole fucking room on fire and in chaos. Suffice it to say, he starts to try and brood manfully and blame himself for that, but thankfully, Mace, who is much more well-emotionally adjusted, quickly stops that. LOL

He was on the cusp of falling asleep himself when the swish of the door opening dragged Myles back from the edge of sleep. He blinked sleepily to clear his vision and he was surprised to see a tired-looking Mace standing there. His robes were filthy with dirt or ash though he’d clearly taken pains to clean up his face and body, no doubt in order to get past the door of the Halls of Healing.

“Mace, hey…” Myles called out with a weak smile.

“Myles, it’s good to see you awake. You had us worried there for a while there.” Mace said with a grave smile and stepped up to the bed.

“Yeah, sounds like I picked the worst time to do my impression of some princess from a holonovel.” Myles joked but his eyes told a different tale. The guilt and worry in the man’s hazel eyes betrayed him.

“Or maybe you picked the best time to sleep through all of this madness of the past few days.” Mace countered gently and pulled up a chair to tiredly settle into it.

Myles held out his hand towards Mace and the Jedi obliged him by reaching up to lace their fingers together carefully.

“Not sure I agree with that. It seems like I get taken out, and things go to shit.” The Mandalorian continued to hide behind humor rather than confront his emotions openly. “You look exhausted, by the way.”

“There’s a lot of work to be done. All things considered, it could have been far worse. I had a few friends who ended up in the Halls of Healing so I was checking in on them.”

Myles squeezed his fingers gently. “Are they-are they okay?”

“Yes, thankfully. One has a broken leg and arm. They will need to undergo surgery, but the other is already to be released.”

“Good, I’m glad.” The Kiffar murmured, and Mace was once again struck by Myles's endless capacity for empathy. He’d been told Mandalorians hated the Jedi and feared them without reservation. And Myles especially had reason to be wary of the Jedi. Yet Mace did not doubt for a second that the other man was being utterly sincere when he said that.

If meeting this man and his companions taught him anything else, it was that the Mandalorians were not what the Galaxy made them out to be.

Or at least, not the True Mandalorians were not.

Death Watch was pretty much exactly as advertised, and after the traumas, they had inflicted upon the Temple, Mace would be lying if he didn’t admit to himself, if nothing else, that he needed to meditate and release his anger and heartbreak into the Force lest it fester within like an untreated wound.

But for now, he was content to sit here and bask in the comfort of his new friend and lover’s presence.

“I’m sorry our troubles were brought to the Temple,” Myles apologized, and Mace shook his head automatically.

“Death Watch would have come either way, I suspect. They’d been clearly planning this for weeks. They probably had collaborators somewhere who aided them. The chaos of everything probably saved countless lives because they got sloppy and cut corners in hopes of pulling off their plot before it got discovered.”

“I can’t believe they thought children were a valid target of opportunity. Tor Vizsla truly was a madman and a monster. I can scarcely believe he’s gone.” He admitted with an incredulous note in his voice.

“The Dark Side can taint even the purest of hearts and drive people to do some truly unspeakable actions. I cannot say for certain that this Vizsla was tainted by the Dark Side but I think it would be a logical assumption from everything I’ve heard.”

“Yeah, but he’s dead and in the dirt now. I just…I worry about the price that had to be paid to take him off the board.” The Mandalorian confessed softly. “I should be happy, Mij tells me Jaster and Arla are going to survive. But Jaster is wounded, maybe even crippled for life and Arla has so much internal damage she’ll be recovering for weeks which I know is just going to be hell for her.”

“But everyone is alive. So long as they are breathing, there is a chance to heal and recover.” Mace pointed out gently, reaching up with his free hand to push some of the riotous curls back from Myles’s forehead. “Same for you. You’re still alive, and you can be there to help them. It seems bleak now, but it will only get better from here.”

The Kiffar’s eyes showed bright and wet with unshed tears as he leaned into Mace’s touch lightly. “Thanks, Mace.”

“Of course, Myles.” The Jedi smiled softly, and they continued to talk for a few more minutes before the wounded man ended up surrendering the battle with sleep. Mace fully intended on getting up and leaving but he’d ended up with his head resting on the mattress while he and Myles were talking.

Mace told himself he would only rest his eyes for a moment but fell asleep, listening to the slow and reassuring sounds of Myles breathing in his sleep.

[dontforgetoctober3rd]

This is a drabble based off of Second Sons by @avengingangelfanfic !

Set 25 years into the future in that same fanfic universe, at Storm’s End. Catelyn (faceclaim: Gemma Ward) is married to Royce Baratheon (faceclaim: Edward from the netflix show The Last Kingdom) and they are waiting for a very important raven from King’s Landing.

EDIT: I have decided to name this fic "Life Eternal"

—————-

The servants at Storm’s End were on edge. The Lord and Lady Baratheon had been at odds since that morning, when a raven came from King’s Landing informing them of the Princess Lyanna’s labors having begun.

The pregnancy had come as somewhat of a shock to the couple, who had stopped using preventions around three years previously and assumed Lyanna was going through her change of no longer being fertile since she hadn’t conceived despite zero change in their very frequent intimacies and her bloods becoming irregular. It was also a shock to the kingdom and to all of Prince Aemond and Lyanna’s children, six total, all girls. The youngest, named for Rhaenys, had been born when Lyanna was 30....ten years ago.

The young Rhaenys was excited for a new sibling whereas her older sister Alicent (the third of the six and also five moons gone with her very first child) had been quite distraught at learning that her parents still participated in ...certain activities, and their “advanced” age, too!

Catelyn, now married 7 years to Royce, having given him 4 sons (All currently visiting their grandfather on Dragonstone, save for the youngest who was off somewhere on the grounds with his nurses) was quite unfazed by this, being the eldest and so having witnessed the longest out of any of them the great love her parents had for each other.

Catelyn was the most like her parents, too, being matter of fact and quite clever. She had also carried with her the habit of all Targaryens making bets over anything and everything, having wagered the new babe would be another girl. Royce has countered it would be a boy. He rarely won bets against his wife and was rather sour with her attitude that she would win yet again.

“Husband? Is it not tiring? Losing so often?” Catelyn asked playfully, lounging on a worn chair in their chambers.

Royce remained stone faced.

“Victory is not automatically your due, wife. We have not received the raven announcing the birth yet.” Royce continued to sulk at Catelyn’s demeanor.

He loved her more than anything...but silently begged the gods to please, PLEASE let him win this bet. Catelyn has said the winner would decide on a penalty for the loser and he suspected she was still upset at him for being annoyed with her dragon riding a month ago (he KNEW she had only gone flying because the lord Beesbury’s son, who was agonizingly boring, had come for a visit. Royce had treated with him alone, almost falling asleep in the process)

*a few hours later, Catelyn and Royce are having dinner in one of the balconies facing the ocean when a deafening roar is heard, a thunderous rumble felt. Aemond Targaryen has arrived and there was only one reason for that*

Catelyn made it to the courtyard first, diving into her beloved father’s arms. Aemond Targaryen, now with slightly more wrinkles and getting on in years, never gave thought to rules of decorum when greeting his daughters in a non-official setting. He lifted Catelyn off the ground and spun her, but only once. His bones were not quite so young anymore.

Royce followed into the courtyard soon after, also receiving Aemond’s affection openly and being squeezed into a hug, laughing with his father in law. A new babe was always a happy occasion, no matter the gender. However, there was the matter of the bet...

“A small babe, as small as Catelyn once was, but thankfully healthy.” Aemond said, speaking to Royce and holding a hand from each of them. He turned to Catelyn. “Your mother is well! I think this was the easiest of her labors, though not quite as quick as Baela’s when she gave birth to Aemon and-“

“I’m glad of it, father, but what of-what have you named the child?” Catelyn asked.

Royce smirked. He KNEW that his wife knew that her own father knew about their betting wars. Aemond Targaryen certainly knew about their current bet, yet Catelyn insisted on being covert. Asking for the name instead of if the babe was a boy or girl...

Aemond smiled at Catelyn...and then turned to Royce. “We have named him Daemon.”

Royce broke out in laughter, pulling his shocked wife into a hug. Aemond walked away into their castle, calling that he needed use of the privy but really, he was getting out of the line of potential fire.

“Oh,my love, I think you know what this means!” Royce crowed, holding her close by the waist.

Catelyn sighed. Rolling her eyes, she conceded defeat. “Fine. What of the punishment? What is my penalty?” she asked, fiddling with his robe buckles and avoiding his eyes.

Royce lifted her face, moving in close.

“I think the winner...should get a kiss from the loser,” he whispered, still grinning with glee.

Catelyn lifted an eyebrow, a smile on her lips. “That sounds more like a prize for me, husband.”

“Oh, I assure you, it’s definitely a prize for me”.

THE END

[blitzendoggo]

5 Times Mercury Was a Flirt (+1 Time He Was Flirted With)

Captain Mercury is an overly friendly man. In most cases, this is a good thing, but when your entire friend group thinks you're flirting with them, there is a small issue.

In this AU, Godforce doesn’t happen, and Canyon is a “good” murder hobo.

Captain Mercury/S.G. Iguess, Captain Mercury/Mr. Goodbid, Captain Mercury/Glib Murphy, Captain Mercury/Mystery of the Canyon (5115 words)

~~

1) S.G.

“S.G.!” Mercury calls the moment they step on the ship. “Where have you been?”

“What do you mean?” They ask as the rest of their party boards the ship dispersing across the deck.

Mercury waltzes up to them, crushing them into a tight hug before releasing them, standing a little closer than he normally does. “You weren’t with the others for the last two missions! I was worried about you!”

“Worried about me?” they ask, suddenly very thankful that changelings can’t blush easily.

“Yeah, I heard you were sick,” the captain says with large worried eyes. “I’m glad you’re feeling better!” His smile is blinding and warm.

S.G. is wordless for a moment before sheepishly saying, “Yes, well, I had caught Goblin Fever from a group of bandits we fought. Prophis wouldn’t let me come on any missions until I was over it.”

“So, it’s him I have to blame?” Mercury teases before taking a more serious tone. “I’ve caught that before. It’s right awful with the shakes and the dazedness. I’m glad you made it out alright.” There’s a moment’s pause before he says, “I’d even argue that you look better than ever after it if that’s even possible!”

“I Do?”

Mercury nods. “Yeah, your skin is practically glowing,” he says with a sweet smile, tilting his head to the side as admires the shorter.

“I love flattery, but there’s no need,” they titter.

“But I mean it!” Mercury laughs, gesturing widely with his hands. “You always look so pretty! I’m beginning to suspect magic is at play,” he teases.

S.G. shakes their head, a blush certainly painting their face. “No magic, just me.”

“Smooth, S.G., smooth,” Glib teases from across the deck.

“Shut up!” they snap, sending a glare his way before looking back at the merman.

Mercury laughs, not having heard the exchange between the friends. “Really? You’re not hiding some sort of charm under that hood?”

“No, why would I hide anything under the hood?” S.G. responds automatically, naturally bad at flirting. From somewhere else on the ship, they hear the boys snicker and the changeling makes a mental note to Psychic Lance the three of them when they get the chance.

“So no one would learn your secret,” Mercury counters easily. He reaches up and stops his hand just next to the edge of their hood. “May I?”

“Sure,” they squeak.

The captain gently pulls the hood back, smoothing the purple fabric. He studies their face, a twinkle in his eye. “Well, my apologies for the accusations.”

“Why? Do you think I’m not pretty?” the changeling challenges, a ball of anxiety forming in their stomach.

Mercury laughs a high, warm sound. “No, because clearly, your beauty is natural.”

“Oh,” they squeak, voice becoming steadily higher the longer they stand near the merman.

“So, I apologize for accusing you of using magic,” he continues with a smile, not paying any mind to the fact that S.G. has become a red mannequin.

Mercury does not move from their personal space as his hand lingers around their neck, idly playing with the fabric of their hood. He smiles so kindly and S.G. is certain that this is how they die.

“Apology accepted,” they say breathlessly.

“Ya know, with the way your face blushes,” he says lowly, dropping his head down to be next to the changeling’s ear, “I’d love to see how the rest of looks.” He ghosts his fingers across their collar while the other runs up their arm.

S.G. fully freezes, completely unable to respond as their brain comes to a screeching halt. Their brain is running impossibly fast while also being completely silent, but Mercury does not mind as he leans back and admires the suddenly dark blush that paints the changeling’s face.

Thankfully, before S.G. can say anything too embarrassing, Canyon slides up next to the Captain, drawing his attention away from the slowly dying changeling.

“Hiya, fish boy!” he says, clapping Mercury on the shoulder.

“Canyon!” the captain cheers. “I was just talking to S.G. here!”

Canyon gives S.G. a once over, a smirk on his face. “I can tell.”

Mercury tilts his head to the side. “What do you mean by that?”

The tabaxi snickers. “Nothing,” he says while shaking his head before loudly saying, “When are we leaving for Bowenburg?”

“Oh, well, right now, I suppose,” he says with a chuckle. He flashes S.G. that same blinding smile. “Can’t keep the lovely people waiting, can we?”

“No,” they choke out.

With a laugh, Mercury walks back to the helm, a skip in his step as he whistles a familiar sailing tune.

Canyon waits until the merman is out of earshot before saying, “You’re shit at flirting.”

They smack him on the back of the head, knocking the cat man forward as he laughs.

*

2) Goodbid

To say Goodbid was having a bad day, would be an understatement. He’s had two contracts go sour; his suit effectively ruined from a combination of holes, blood, and wine stains; a hit nearly escaped; and his beloved bottom hat has a hole the size of Glib in it. All within the last twelve hours. And if Goodbid had to rank how bad this day was compared to the other seven days of this week? It is probably in third place.

He stands on Sky Skimmer’s top deck, leaning heavily against the rails as he watches the world rush by. Mercury had been kind enough to pick him up from his solo mission in Abellio and fly him back to Riftreach.

“You look like hell, mate,” the aforementioned captain says from behind him.

“Bad week,” the hitman replies simply, not in the mood for their normal playful banter.

The merman leans against the railing next to Goodbid, a little closer than the hitman was expecting. “Anything I can do to help?” he asks, leaning closer to the half-elf, glancing at his lips as he does.

“Uh, I don’t believe so,” Goodbid says, the tension in the air increasing tenfold.

Wordlessly, Mercury reaches up, his fingers grazing up the businessman’s neck before using his thumb to smooth his mustache into place while he cups his jaw.

“Mercury?” Goodbid asks breathlessly and only slightly panicked.

Mercury slowly looks away from his mouth and makes heavy eye contact. “Sorry, mate, it was sticking up all weirdly,” he says lowly, not removing his hand from his face.

Goodbid swallows. “It’s alright.” He can feel the blush running up his neck and settling high on his cheeks.

Mercury traces the blush down his neck with his fingers, stopping at the hitman’s stained collar.

“You’re hurt?”

It takes Goodbid an embarrassing few seconds to register what is being said to him.

“Just a few cuts, nothing I can’t handle,” he says, with a shaky smile as he desperately holds onto what’s left of his dignity.

Mercury runs the tips of his fingers along the largest of the stains before bringing them to his face. His tongue darts out and licks the thin red liquid off his fingers before grinning at Goodbid. “You taste like wine.”

The hitman makes a choked noise. “I- uh- had a jug of- um- wine dumped on me. Yeah,” he sputters, running a hand through his hair as he looks away.

Mercury places a hand on Goodbid’s cheek and forces him to look him in the eye. “Are you telling me that you have wine spilled over open wounds and you didn’t clean them?” Mercury asks with mild annoyance.

“I- well, I-” He coughs looking down before saying, “I don’t got spare clothes on here and I was gonna wait until I got home.”

“I have clothes you can borrow,” Mercury says dismissively. He steps back and Goodbid takes a shuttering breath. “Are you coming?” Mercury teases as he walks to the captain’s quarters.

The hitman nearly trips over himself as he scrambles to keep up.

The captain's quarters are decorated in deep greens and blues with a messy dark wood desk along one wall and a beautiful bed in the center of the far wall.

“Just sit on the bed and take off your shirt,” Mercury instructs as he walks over to a drawer and pulls out a med kit. Goodbid unbuttons his shirt slowly, wincing as the motions pull at the cuts on his chest. When Mercury turns around he looks over Goodbid’s freshly exposed chest with interest.

“Enjoying the view?” Goodbid teases, rolling his shoulders back before wincing at the subsequent pain.

Mercury snickers at him as he hands over a minor healing potion. “Drink this while I patch you up.”

The potion doesn’t taste pleasant, but it is a welcomed distraction from Mercury's cool hands touching his bare chest as he cleans the wounds with a wet rag before moving to cleaning them with rubbing alcohol.

Goodbid hisses, grabbing onto Mercury’s shoulders as he cleans out a cut that was borderline infected.

“That’s it,” Mercury murmurs, clearly not paying attention to his own words. “You’re doing good, almost done.”

Goodbid makes a noise in the back of his throat, this time not from the cleaning, as Mercury continues to whisper praises while he wraps the cuts tightly. The merman steps back to admire his handy work before going over to a trunk and pulling out a clean shirt. He starts to hand Goodbid the shirt before pulling it back, clearly contemplating something.

“What? Am I not allowed to have a shirt?” Goodbid teases.

“Let me put it on you,” Mercury answers as he steps closer.

The injured man sputters. “Pardon?”

“You’ll strain yourself trying to pull it over your head,” he explains easily as he stands in front of the other. “Lift your arms a little.”

Goodbid does as he’s told, pointedly ignoring the bright red blush painting his face. Mercury easily pulls it onto him before smoothing it down the hitman’s chest. Before either of them can say anything, the boards under their feet rumble.

“Sky Skimmer’s tellin’ me to go back up to steer her,” the captain explains apologetically. “She’s sayin’ we’re almost to port.”

“It’s alright,” Goodbid says with his signature grin, although on the inside he is more than a little annoyed at the interruption.

Mercury disappears out the door, calling, “Stay put, don’t strain yourself!” over his shoulder as he goes. Goodbid sits in a stunned silence as he tries to make sense of everything that just happened. By the time he’s made any progress, the merman pokes his head in with a smile that damn near kills the hitman where he sits. “We’re here.”

Goodbid nods as he stands. “When do you want this shirt back?”

Mercury approaches him slowly and runs his fingers along the hem of the shirt before he gives Goodbid a knowing smile. “Keep it,” he says as he steps back, “It looks good on you.”

Goodbid’s blush returns with a vengeance as the captain goes back out of the room, leaving the poor hitman reeling.

*

3) Glib

The frogman sits alone in the storeroom of Sky Skimmer. He’s starving and desperately trying to keep his thoughts away from anything to do with eating which he is failing at rather spectacularly. Glib groans, running a hand over his face.

The clicking of approaching steps draws him out of his thoughts.

“Everything okay, mate?” Mercury asks as he walks past, carrying a crate that easily weighs as much as the merman.

Glib gives him the signature unamused glare as he says, “No.”

Mercury places the crate in its place before sitting on it and looking over at Glib. “What’s wrong then?”

“I’m really fuckin’ hungry. I forgot to eat before getting on this stupid fucking’ ship,” he growls before wincing and saying, “No offense.”

Mercury chuckles, patting the crate. “Nontaken, but if you’re hungry I have rations.”

Glib shakes his head. “Can’t have normal food,” he dismisses quickly. “Vampire, remember?” He flashes his fangs to prove the point.

Mercury watches his fangs with apt interest. “Do you not have any rations?”

“Not unless you happen to carry blood,” Glib says irritatedly. He buries his face in his hands as he groans. He is the King of Hangry and desperately wants to be left alone.

Mercury is silent for a moment before saying, “You could drink from me.”

“What?” Glib’s head snaps up in shock, staring at the merman in disbelief. Surely, he didn’t just say that, surely he misheard.

“Unless you don’t like drinking from live sources,” the sailor backpedals quickly.

“No, I do,” Glib says slowly, confusion lacing every word, “But why are you offering.”

Mercury stands up, his wooden legs creaking as he does. “You are hungry, and you don’t have rations.” With every step, he is getting closer to Glib. “As your captain, it is my job to make sure you are provided for.” His voice is low as his hands trail up to the laces holding his shirt closed.

“You’ll lose a lot of blood,” Glib says quickly, eyes tied to the movement.

“I have healing potions.” He pulls the string out.

“It could kill you,” Glib says a little more desperately as his mouth waters.

The merman chuckles. “You won’t kill me.” His eyes are half-lidded as he looks down on Glib, completely confident in him.

“It’ll make you too dizzy to steer,” Glib says in a last-ditch effort to make Mercury come to his senses.

“Sky Skimmer’s a living ship, and besides-” he pulls his shirt to the side, revealing his suntanned, freckled shoulder. “I’ve always liked that feeling.”

Glib gulps, but his eyes do not leave the bare skin. “Are you sure?”

“Very.” Mercury leans closer until his shoulder is closer to Glib’s mouth. “Bite me, Glib.”

And Glib does. He drinks, savoring the delicious liquid before forcing himself back after a minute. He doesn’t want Mercury to drop.

“Done already?” Mercury groans as he pants lightly. At some point, he had leaned further forward and had grabbed ahold of the crate Glib was sitting on. His knuckles were white with how tightly he was grasping it.

“Don’t want to kill you,” Glib says through his fogged brain.

Mercury smiles. “Aw, that’s too bad. It was just starting to get fun.” He leans closer to Glib’s face and uses his thumb to wipe a bit of blood off of the frog’s lip. “But I need to get back to the stern.”

He steps back and walks to the door, straightening his shirt as he goes.

“Oh, and Glib?” He says over his shoulder as he stops in the doorway.

“Yeah?” the frog asks, still reeling from the entire experience.

“If you need a snack, you know where to find me.” Mercury smiles and winks before disappearing through the door, leaving Glib extremely confused and just a little hungry.

*

4) Canyon

In hindsight, going drinking with a man Canyon had never once seen drunk might have been a mistake. He had assumed that Mercury would have a high tolerance seeing as he’s a sailor, but he could not have been more wrong.

Here Mercury was, half draped across the cat man, drunkenly singing “What Can We Do With a Drunken Sailor” while petting the Tabaxi as the aforementioned cat man tries to get them both to Sky Skimmer.

“Way-hay and up she rises, Ear-lye in the morning!” he slurs, throwing his hands up in the air. “Put ‘em in bed with-” he trails off, trying to remember the lyrics.

“Captain’s daughter,” Canyon supplies.

Mercury laughs before shouting, “Tabaxi man!” He looks up at Canyon with a grin. “Put ‘em in bed with a tabaxi man! Put ‘em with a tabaxi man! Ear-lye in the morning!”

“Are you trying to get me into bed with you?” Canyon teases, readjusting his hold on the merman which just happens to drop his hand lower on Mercury’s waist.

Mercury laughs but does not answer as he sings the chorus, Canyon joining in after a minute. They cackle and carry on as they stumble down the street, Sky Skimmer in sight.

“What’s the next lyric, Merc?” Canyon asks once his laughter has died down.

The Captain thinks for a moment before grinning madly as he says, “Make him kiss the roguish man!” At first, Canyon thinks he’s misheard the Captain, but then he repeats it. “Make him kiss the roguish man!”

“Make him kiss the roguish man?” the cat asks without the song cadence.

“Ear-lye in the morning!” Mercury finishes while laughing. He sobers slightly as he asks, “What time you say it is?” He looks up at the dark sky.

Sky Skimmer spots them and she happily waves her sails before lowering a plank for them to walk up. Mercury mumbles a thanks as they step onto the deck.

Canyon glances up at the sky, trying to spot the moon as he navigates the drunk man to his quarters. “I don’t know, probably three or four in the morning?”

Mercury grins widely before pressing his face into Canyon’s cheek. “So it's ‘ear-lye in the morning’?”

“It is,” the tabaxi says slowly.

“And I’m a drunken sailor?” Mercury continues, leaning harder into Canyon,

“You are,” Canyon agrees with a smirk.

“Are you a roguish tabaxi man?”

Canyon snickers. “I am.”

“Then I demand a kiss ear-lye this morning,” Mercury declares, kissing Canyon’s cheek before stumbling backward, hand locked around the tabaxi’s wrist. “And for you to come to bed with me!”

“Mercury you’re drunk,” Canyon laughs, following behind him.

The merman nods. “I’m a drunken sailor!”

“And that’s why I can’t go to bed with you,” Canyon says digging his heels into the ground.

“Aww,” Mercury pouts at him.

Canyon chuckles. “If you remember any of this in the morning, I’ll be more than happy to take you up on your offer,” he says, running his claws through Mercury’s disheveled hair.

Mercury makes a pitiful noise before sighing dramatically. “Fine.”

Canyon steps back, flashing Mercury a smile. “Night, Merc, and good luck with your hangover!” he says as he walks off the ship. He faintly hears a slurred response followed by stumbling steps into the captain’s quarters. Canyon snickers to himself as he wanders back through the streets before he begins to hum “Drunken Sailor.”

*

5) All of them

“Mornin’ guys!” Mercury shouts from the helm as he steers Sky Skimmer to the edge of Symmetris Tower. The Party yells back varying responses before boarding. “Where to?”

“Wanuia, if ya believe!” Goodbid says far too chipperly for this early in the morning, as he boards the ship, the rest tiredly lumbering behind him.

Mercury turns the ship and sets her on a straight shot for his old city before walking down to talk with the party. “Wanuia, ‘ey? What business you got up there?” he asks.

“Rumors of some sort of powerful necromancers wandering the outskirts and tormenting people,” Glib explains, tugging his hood down over his eyes as Sky Skimmer emerges from clouds, the morning sun casting long shadows over the deck.

“Why send you guys and not Symmetris Agents?” the Captain asks.

“Prophis made us one of the highest-ranking Symmetris squadrons,” Canyon explains as he stretches, still trying to shake the sleep from his system, and smoothes down his hair which is sticking up oddly.

S.G. nods. “It was meant to be an honor but all it's done is mean that we can’t commit crimes and have to work for the government,” they gripe.

“But it pays handsomely,” Goodbid says with a grin.

“It does pay nice, yes,” S.G. agrees. “But I would like to steal again.”

“Why don’t you quit?” Mercury asks, tilting his head to the side like a dog.

The changeling makes a sour face while the boys snicker. “Callisto said if I quit to commit crimes he will arrest me on sight.”

There is a beat of silence before the merman belly laughs. “Of course he did, why wouldn’t he?”

“Yes, it was quite rude of him,” S.G. grumbles.

“Alright, well,” Mercury begins as he tries to regain composure. “How long do I need to wait on you guys? Do I have time to run a delivery from Abellio to Riftreach and back to Wanuia or will you be done by that point?”

“We’ll be done by then,” Glib answers.

“Yeah, they seem like normal necromancers,” Canyon adds once he doesn’t look like a toddler’s stuffed animal. “Won’t take us more than like two, three hours.”

“So we’ll the rest of the day to kick it at the beautiful Wanuaian beaches!” Goodbid says, pantomiming lounging on a beach.

“You’ll be at the beaches, I’ll be hiding somewhere dark,” Glib gripes.

Mercury shakes his head. “There are beaches that are hidden in alcoves. They are warmed by the mornin’ sun, but by noon the sun is off of them! The water is clear, the sand is warm, but the sun is gone,” the Merman says, gesturing wildly with his hands.

“Really?” Glib questions, clearly trying to keep the hopeful tone from his voice.

“Absolutely! They were my favorite growin’ up because no one else likes them. Most people go to Wanuia to sun tan, but those hidden beaches are nice,” Mercury says with a charismatic grin.

“We’ll have to find somewhere that sells swimsuits first,” Canyon points out. “The only one here who might have one is Goodbid.”

“Would ya believe I actually don’t?” Goodbid asks.

“No, I don’t,” the tabaxi counters sarcastically.

Mercury makes a confused expression. “Why would you need a swimsuit?”

“Because we’ll be swimming?” Canyon answers.

“Yeah, not all of us are merfolk,” Goodbid teases.

“I could be,” S.G. says cockily.

Glib gives them a tired expression. “We know, S.G.”

“I can be anything I want.”

“We know S.G.”

“I know you aren’t merfolk,” Mercury says, drawing attention back to the original point. “But why would you need swimsuits?”

The group glances at each other.

“Because that’s what you wear when you are swimming?” Glib says, confusion lacing his words.

“Yeah, but it’ll just be the five of us,” Mercury still not understanding.

“The five of us swimmin’,” Goodbid emphasizes.

“Yeah, but if it's just us, why not just skinny dip?” Mercury finally spits out, eyebrow raised.

“Skinny dip?!” Goodbid yelps as Glib says, “Excuse me?!” and S.G. squeaks, “What?!” There’s a beat of silence before Canyon starts laughing.

“Yeah, guys, let’s just skinny dip!” he says, nudging Mercury with his elbow.

Mercury smiles at him. “See, he gets it.”

“Mercury, I love ya, man, but I ain’t skinny dippin’,” Goodbid says quickly before Canyon can dig their graves anymore.

“Why not? I’m sure it’d be fine,” the merman says. “Besides, you’ll be seeing all of me, only fair if I see all of you.” He pauses before grinning as he adds lowly, “It's more fun that way.”

S.G. chokes on air, Goodbid flushes to the tips of his ears, and Glib’s jaw drops, but Canyon just nods slowly.

“Maybe next time, dude,” Canyon says. “Gotta give them time to prepare.”

“So you’ll be skinny dipping with me then?” the merman asks hopefully.

The others yell varying rejections over the sound of Canyon’s laughter. None of them notice Mercury’s confused face.

*

+1

Mercury really didn’t see anything wrong when the group suddenly has a fifth member. He finds it a little odd that it is a shadar-kai who looks older than dirt with no eyes, but his friends are an odd group so he just waves it off and welcomes the old man aboard the ship.

“Alright, crew!” He calls to the deck as he pulls Sky Skimmer away from Bowenburg. “Where to?”

“Riftreach!” Glib yells as Goodbid calls up, “Home!”

Mercury laughs. “Homeward bound!” He steers the ship for a moment, making sure they were on a straight enough shot before looking back over the deck and noticing how ill the old man looks. He slows the ship to a more reasonable speed and the shadar-kai relaxes slightly.

Canyon bounds up behind him, putting his hand on the merman’s waist and sliding up close to him. “Why the speed drop?” he asks as he examines the air around them.

“You’re friend down there-”

“Friend is a strong word,” Canyon gripes.

“You’re friend down there,” Mercury continues with a smile, leaning into the tabaxi. “Doesn’t look too good, I’m slowing it down so he doesn’t get sick on my deck.”

Canyon flexes his claws, not biting into the scales of his hips, but grazing his nails across them. “I think you are too nice to him.”

“No, I’m just looking out for my ship,” he remarks, gingerly placing his hands near the collar of the cat’s shirt. He fixes the fabric, smoothing out the wrinkles before stepping back.

The rest of the party stands in the middle of the open deck. The captain gives them all a quick once over but his gaze lingers on Goodbid, or rather his shirt.

“I told you, you like nice in my clothes,” Mercury teases as he and Canyon reenter the group.

“Huh?” Glib questions, looking between them, trying to decipher whatever coded language they are using.

“That-” Mercury points to Goodbid’s chest. “Is my shirt. I’m just glad he still likes it.”

S.G. huffs. “Goodbid gets your shirt and I don’t?” they ask in a mock hurt tone.

Mercury chortles. “You can go into my trunk and get any of my shirts you like,” he says gesturing to the captain’s quarters.

“Really?” S.G. asks, trying, and failing, to hide their excitement.

“Of course,” he nods. “I think all of you would look nice in my clothes. They’d be baggy and practically fall off of you.”

The old man laughs, drawing Mercury’s attention for the first time.

Mercury turns to look at him before extending his hand with a good-natured smile. “I don’t believe we’ve met! I’m Captain Mercury.”

The shadar-kai shakes his hand a little too vigorously. “King Skeezvol Skracks XIX, it’s a pleasure to meet a new subject of mine.”

“It’s nice to meet you, your majesty?” Mercury says slowly looking to the others for guidance.

“Don’t mind the old man, he’s going senile,” Canyon butts in.

“I’m not senile! If I was senile I would’ve missed your flirting!” Skeezvol snaps.

The group snickers or ducks their heads, but Mercury cocks an eyebrow. “Flirting?”

“I may be a blind old man, but I’m not deaf! I know flirting when I hear it!” he continues.

The merman looks at the others, his face pinched in confusion. “What is he going on about?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, Cassanova fish man!” the old man exclaims.

“Cassanova fish man?” Mercury echoes, confusion lacing his words.

“Yeah, really, Tails, it’s fine,” Glib agrees to which the old man looks mildly irritated about for reasons that the Captain can’t even begin to fathom.

The merman snickers. “Me? A casanova?” He shakes his head. “I’m an awful flirt.”

Energy of the others around him noticeably changes.

He looks at them and they all look to be in varying states of denial or confusion. “What?” he questions.

“Mercury,” Goodbid says slowly.

“What?” he questions again.

Canyon gives him a hard look. “Are you dumb or screwing with us?”

“Screwing with you?” he parrots. “No, I’m not ‘screwing with you,’ I have no idea what’s going on.”

They look at each other, seeming to have a mental conversation before Goodbid sighs and goes, “Mercury, you’ve been flirtin’ with us since you met us.”

The captain gives them a blank expression. “No, I haven’t?”

“Yes, you have,” S.G. says.

“And for once, they aren’t gaslighting you,” Glib tacks on.

He shakes his head. “Wouldn’t I know if I was flirting with someone?” he questions.

Canyon snickers. “We thought you were doing it on purpose.”

“How?” Mercury asks, exasperated.

“When I came back after being sick, you said I must be using magic to make myself so pretty,” S.G. reminds.

“But you are very pretty!” Mercury defends. “I wasn’t flirting, I was telling the truth.”

“And you saying that you want to see us in your clothes?” Goodbid questions.

Mercury makes a semi-embarrassed noise. “Right, now, I see how that’s weird, but I just like baggy clothing.”

“What about letting me drink from you?” Glib says unamused, clearly still thinking that he is messing with them.

Mercury shrugs. “You looked miserable and I didn’t have any rations for you. It was the next best thing.”

Canyon cuts the middle man entirely, side-stepping closer to the fish man and putting a hand on his waist, pulling him into his personal space. Mercury instantly leans into the hold to which Canyon grins. “Do you even remember what you said while you were drunk?”

“No?”

The tabaxi snickers. “You basically invited me to stay the night.”

Mercury blushes to the tips of his ears. “I don’t remember doing that.”

Canyon maneuvers them slightly until their chests are pressed together. “Mmhmm,” he hums, flexing his claws slightly. Mercury reaches up and fixes the collar of his shirt before letting his hands linger again to which the cat snickers. “And what do you call this?”

Mercury looks at him oddly before seeming to understand the position that he found himself in. He turns bright red and steps back muttering, “Your collar was laying weirdly.”

“And you’re telling me that you didn’t do that on purpose?” Canyon teases, letting him go.

“No!”

The group looks at each other, having another mental conversation before they begin to grin.

“What? Mercury asks, sensing a trap.

They don’t respond as they just move around him.

“What are you doing?” He questions, trying to step back, but ends up backing into Canyon. “Guys?”

Suddenly there are hands on him, around his waist, his arms, and his shoulders, and then there are kisses. Canyon is covering his neck in kisses, Goodbid has his right cheek, S.G. has his left, and Glib is littering his wrists with soft kisses.

When they pull back, Mercury’s jaw is dropped and he sputters. There’s a moment's pause before a little bit of blood dribbles from his nose.

“You alright, Lover boy?” Skeezvol asks between his wheezing laughs.

“Yeah- I’m- uh huh,” he spits out before stumbling backward, wiping the blood on the back of his hand. “I’m gonna- yeah, I’m- I’m going to steer the- Sky Skimmer. Steer Sky Skimmer.” He pauses, still wide-eyed and bright red. “Yep.” He scurries up the stairs and holds onto her spokes for dear life as a chorus of laughs follows him up.

[vomitdodger]

@liberalsarecool

Not sure why your posts keep coming up in my feed as a suggestion but here we are. I suspect heavy left leaning algorithms and bots have been developed and implemented affecting what we see. This is something others have also commented on. Regardless…

For one, Kamala is incapable of telling the truth. You should take none of this as an actuality. Border czar being just one example.

Second, she has had almost four years to “do something” on all of it. Or any of it. But she hasn’t. She can’t even decide if she should embrace Bidenomics (which she has many time) or distance herself from the disaster it has been (she has done this as well).

Lastly, most of those proposals will be counter productive. Most would agree that Blackrock is a problem but let’s focus on the housing per se. Basic economics…if a buyer suddenly has $25k for a house what do you think the market is going to do? It will automatically go up $25k AT LEAST. Exactly what has happened to tuition with all the student loan slave debt. Nothing is ever free. Ever. Somebody must always pay for it. Taxpayers or the individual.

There are many articles promoting her above policies of course, because the media is totally in bed with the democrats. Find a good objective source and they are all against them. As summarized by the NYT (a hard left media and even they are calling her out) “if you don’t want to sound like a communist don’t put forth communist proposals.”

Article from USA Today. Another very left source and even they disagree with Harris.

Stop Hedge Funds and BlackRock from buying residential homes. Help first-time homeowners with down-payments.

If you want to put people in homes and curb Wall St from warping the housing market for their gains, vote for Democrats.

[thesugarhole]

ok now i have 20mins free before work starts so im going to keep chipping away at romac

pineapples chapter is actually the "today i found a geiger counter in the wasteland - no more radioactive soup for me!" chapter..? i think i remember that one being just the hot stuff joke, not an actual expose on the pineapple bomb that exploded in pilots face, but i could be wrong on this one. or maybe it was mashed together to make use of the geiger counter

its opportune to make that giant green field orb thing the pineapple after effects though so no complaints here. yet.

yes yes we've all seen hot stuff captain. moving on

WHY IS THE FUCKING PINEAPPLE CONNECTED TO THE WIFI COME ON MAN THERE HAS TO BE A LIMIT

its like that pôr do sol joke where the guy negotiated with the workers to end their strike by 'installing wifi in every single cherry' on their cherry farms

surely thats not snippys sleeve... theyre both black for a solid stretch.

is whoever planted this one actually known or are we to suspect snippy Forever? from past information that might not even be true anymore, of course

If the User does not eat this fruit, I will automatically convert it into energy upon expiry date (to provide power to my kitchen friends).

(...)

User set temporal watch to count backwards. Watches are supposed to count forwards, not backwards. You cannot send fruits to your past-self, silly User. User synchronized temporal watch to pineapple expiry time. User changed parameters of my fruit-to-energy conversion program.

so thats how it works huh. infi has said previously the explosion only goes the way they want to if the watches are inside fruits, and i guess it has to do with some futuristic nonsense (as futuristic as this all is) about them auto disappearing once they cant be eaten anymore

DEX-M unit 966912 came to the mini-van. He sounds nice.

He looks great. Sometimes I dream of having such luxurious blonde hair.

DEX 966912 loses his beautiful face. How unfortunate.

stoooooooooop this is embarrassing me. like its true pilot is very nice and very handsome but come on pineapple those are your dying thought- THE PINEAPPLE IS ALIVE WITHIN THE GREEN THING I KNEW IT

whyyyy are you alive. why are you talking in the first place. this future is terrifying to me i dont want my food to talk to me about how it must be eaten what is this a fucking "oooh you gotta water me you gotta use your pee" world?

It smells wonderfully, so fresh, so full of life. I read its label. The label tells me its title and fruit type [CHARLES SNIPPY: DEAD ZONE TOUR GUIDE] It is not yet expired. Good. But I can already see its expiry date closing in. Bad. It will expire prematurely, if it does not make true friends soon.

wasnt snippy. the pineapple would probably recognize it as its previous user. yay!

incidentally where DID i get snippy did it from. am i misremembering something because im positive he was blamed for this bomb specifically at some point

lol at the pineapple being angry he didnt so much as approach the creepy green field thing come on. give the guy some credit you think he would just walk inside it to see whats up even if its technically not radioactive? like sorry this happened to you but also you did blow up pilots face so. stay there. with your horrible future man made consciousness.