#because that’s how fast brain fire goes man

[hcdragonwrites]

Home (a jttw fanfic- @journey-to-the-au )

Inspired by @journey-to-the-au artwork. Here is the art -

This is a POV thats gender neutral and meant to let you slide into the comfort of found family. So. Enjoy!

The sun was just settling down for the night. It cast its scarlet hues across the earth, through the trees and over the sky. It painted in water colors a twilight so full of hues to rival any master artist in the capitals of the Empire left behind so far back.

The road had been long today, the rocky mountains pass full of dust that Ba Longma tossed with his hooves and the rest of the pilgrims stirred. The mountain dust covered you, the sun had baked you, and you felt like a steamed bun. Since joining the little group of travelers you had seen fantastical things: fruit in the shape of babes, demons who could shape change, gods who could cast helpful or harmful hands.

You had been part of schemes, of fights, of plots, and of mediations between the pilgrims. It had been a long several years of hardship and laughter, of sorrow and joys. You had earned your place among the pilgrims. The respect of Tripataka who appreciated having another level head among them. The sibling like rivalry between Bajie and Wukong and their antics of pranks, trickery and teasing. Wujie and you had respect and kindness grown from the shared love of silent peace and tea. He was more of an uncle, this ex general, than anything you had experienced before.

And Ba Longma? The dragon horse may not say much but he loves to take a bit of clothing and chew contentedly on you. He would try and swish flies from your face and, if you came back with a bit of fruit or a sweet, he always had his ears forward and was wickering in excitement. The pilgrims held affection for you. Some as a elder sibling would to a younger, others as a father or grandpa to a relative.

“Let’s rest here for the night.”Tripataka relented and you practically fell onto the nearest rock. Your feet aches your legs cramped, and you felt dusty as if you had been rolled in flour.

You played your part. You set up the bed rolls along with Wujie. You gathered water with Wukong, who would not let you carry a thing- he just wanted to have someone to chatter to about the day. Ba Longma was brushed down and settled with oats and an apple that Wukong had begged off of the last villagers. As Bajie cooked the rice you sat with Tripataka, learning as much as you could of the scriptures he so adored and read over. They were worn with use and love.

Full bellies around a fire as the breeze of spring still ran chill in the air. The fire cast shadows dancing up the little alcove of rock and grasses that made up the clearing of the camp. You stretched and yawned.

First watch was yours this night- and if you didn’t prop yourself up against the rough looking stone and get into the most uncomfortable position, you would fall asleep. Warm food and good camaraderie always were a balm to the soul. It wasn’t this peaceful. Sometimes Wukongs pranks would go to far. Some nights Bajie have into his earthly hungers and wanted to cling to missing meats and the comfort of women. Tripataka may be disquieted on the prospect of the journey or Ba Longma may have taken to irritableness at the length of the day.

You were all people- having come together for one common purpose, from a multitude of backgrounds. It was bound to happen that harsh words were said, tempers flared, and feelings were hurt.

The pilgrims were a family in a sense. The strangest family perhaps, but still a family.

You yawned again, feeling the fires warmth at your back growing distant with each step. You muttered something- something along the lines of tired, of longing for sleep- and you did not realize the mistake.

For Wukong, ever vigilant to all things, had heard your mumbling and had perked. His ears twitched, his tail swayed and his smile became sly.

“Tired you say?” The Sages voice was light and lilting, playful in tones that you knew meant mischief was afoot. You turned to see the monkey come up behind you.

“Wukong…” you half asked, half stated his name. He held his arms open like he was offering a hug.

“Bajie.” The sage asked his brother, who blinked bakc to waking. “Don’t you think our little Sibling deserves some rest ?”

The pig demon looked between you and Wukong and sensed a game was to be played. Sometimes the other disciple was in direct opposition. Other times he was just as wily as the old stone monkey. Tonight it seemed he was of the former.

“I saw our fellow Sibling stumble much on the trail. In fact,” Bajie held up a hand, counting on his fingers, “I saw them stumbled a total of twelve times.”

“Brother Wujie…” Wukong turned his eye on the other disciple. The River demon huffed.

“They should not be the one to take the first watch.” Wujie tapped the side of his teacup, holding it out to blow the steam away. “For there steps today have been weighed down with many a rough and sleepless night.”

“It is settled then—“ Wukong held his arms out, stepping closer. “Come give your Elder a hug.”

You turned to Trip, entreating the monk. Whatever game Wukong was playing, you did not want a part in. You had first watch. It had been decided the day before. It was non negotiable.

Tripataka opened an eye, looking at his disciples and the advancing elder on the youngest of the group. He simply closed his eye.

“I cannot have the younger wearing themselves out.” Was that the faintest hint of a smile ? Wukong stepped closer and you stepped back. You knew the monkey wouldn’t hurt you. But — he was planning something. Ba Longma snorted at your look, flashing his teeth in a horsey grin as if saying I agree !

Of course - even though it was foolish- you turned to run. A playful run because there was no threat of danger- just of capture. Bajie chortled as Wukong leapt. Of course he chased you around the camp. As you played a musical game of keep away the others smiled. You dodged behind the monk, danced a ring around the fire, tired to throw Bajie at the impish monkey.

Wukong was toying with you- enjoying the play. These games reminded him of home- you reminded him of home. The willingness to cause mischief but remain firm when it went too far- the want to tell jokes and tease and taunt along with him- it all reminded him of that beautiful mountain covered in the scents of ripening fruits and soft flowery fields. So of course he played chase, letting you slip and wear yourself out.

Wukong knew how to tend to children of all ages and he saw you as one of his own- one of his own family. He had knowledge of wearing littles out. He was a grandfather after all.

Then one stumble of your legs and he had grown larger then a bear and swooped. Suddenly you were rolled in fur and laughter as the Monkey king caught you up and settled. He held you like a babe, arms crossed over your middle and his eyes sleepily peaking from beneath lids. You pushed to get out, wiggled and wormed for a bit of give. There was none to be had.

Wukong blew air into your hair, tussled you and rolled, setting you and he within the ring of firelight.

“I think our little sibling should go to bed now don’t you brothers ?” An uproarious agreement from all- Even Trip who had been smiling at the antics- was heard. You argued that you were needed to take first watch.

Wujie rose. “I will take it.”

You tried to say you weren’t pulling your weight. To your surprise it was Longma who broke his horse silence with words.

“You pull more weight, carry more burdens, and lighten our days. Rest is what little we can give back for companionship.”

You flustered, faltered, and fell silent. Wukong simply poked your side and elicited more laughter.

“You won’t let me go even if I begged ?” You asked. The great monkey opened one large red eye, the golden iris like the flash of golden rings on a lady’s hand.

“No.” He mumbled then pulled you closer in, curling and blocking the world. The warmth of the fur was welcome- the spring still held winters teeth and tonight they sought to bite and drive frost across the ground. The great orange fur was soft, the heartbeat like the roar of an ocean calling you home. And, though you were grumpy to have your decision taken from you, you soon found that sleep was a greater enemy.

It won in the end, as your hands curled into the fur, pulled into the warm and beating safety that Wukong offered. Nowhere in the world was as peaceful or as full of gentle warmth as here. Among the pilgrims, on this strange and desolate mountaintop, you felt more at home and full of love then in any city, village, or palace you had crossed.

[wikiangela]

you're my happily ever after (so i'll take my chance now, risk it all somehow)

rating: G

words: 2.6k

8x06 fix-it, because I'm pissed - I or my fics aren't going anywhere tho <3

thank you to @evansboyfrend for beta reading, ily 🫶

[also on Ao3]

It feels like the whole world is crumbling down. It feels like the Earth should shake, burst on fire, open up and swallow everything around. As dramatic as it is, he kind of expects it to happen, and it’s weird that he’s still sitting here. His ears are ringing, panic rising in his chest with each of Tommy’s words. He watches Tommy get up and head for the door, and he’s frozen to his spot. It’s not- it can’t be. It fucking can’t be. “Wait,” he finally manages to say, trying to keep his voice from trembling, “did you just break up with me?” He asks, hoping to any entity that listens that he just misinterpreted it, that he got it wrong. Because- because he can’t lose Tommy. He’s falling for him so fast and so hard. He’s ready for the next step. He’s ready to move in together. He’s ready to talk about one day, eventually, maybe getting married. He knows he wants that. He knows what he wants, and he wants Tommy.  “Yeah, I guess I did.” Tommy answers, glancing back at him, his expression sad but firm. But Buck knows him. Knows that this mask will crumble into something devastated as soon as he leaves. That Tommy’s heart will shatter, just as Buck’s is right now. He can see through Tommy, he knows that he cares about Buck. It just- it doesn’t make sense. What was he even talking about… It was all so much, so fast, Buck’s brain is still scrambling trying to understand it all.  “Believe me, I didn’t see-” Tommy starts, but Buck shakes his head and interrupts him. “No.” He stands up, his legs feeling shaky. Tommy fully turns towards him, confusion in his face. “What do you mean, ‘no’?” He frowns.

“I mean, no, you’re not breaking up with me.” Buck says more confidently than he feels. Because this can’t be it. The last six months, the best six months of his fucking life, can’t end like this. Can’t end at all. He won’t have this. “I know you care about me. And I care about you. And I don’t want to break up.” He sees Tommy open his mouth to speak, his expression hardening – putting on a mask again, trying to hide the hurt. He speaks again before Tommy can. “If you truly, genuinely want this, not because you think it’s gonna be better for me or you, but because you don’t want to be with me, fine, I can respect that. But I won’t accept it without a fight. I- I wanna fight for us, Tommy.” Buck steps closer to him, hoping that Tommy doesn’t step back, that might just break him. He doesn’t, he’s stuck in place, sad eyes on Buck’s. “Let me fight for us. You-” he adds quickly, on a roll now, not wanting Tommy to interrupt until after he’s done, after he’s said his piece. He needs to say it all now, let Tommy know how he feels. He can’t watch him leave without trying to fix it first. Tommy’s looking at him intently, just listening, not even trying to speak. “You gave me a second chance once, when I fucked up our first date, and I- I want to believe it wasn’t for nothing. So- so you’re my first man, so what?” Buck throws his hands up in frustration, he thinks he’s starting to sound a little frantic, speaking faster and faster. He just can’t let Tommy leave without him knowing exactly how Buck feels. “It’s far from my first relationship ever. Why- why is it so different just because you’re a man? It shouldn’t be. I don’t need to date other people, experiment or whatever else. I’ve dated people, slept around, did it all. I know how that goes, how it feels, and I don’t want to do it again. I know what I want, Tommy. And I want you. And don’t you dare tell me how I feel.” He feels anger seep in, Tommy’s words ringing in his head. What the actual fuck was he thinking? “I’m a grown man, I know how I feel. Yeah, it’s new and exciting, but it’s also real. It’s real to me, and- and if there’s any chance of forever, I want to take it. And-” he takes a breath. He feels like he’s been speaking in one breath, feeling a little lightheaded now, his heart hammering. Or maybe that’s just the panic. “And don’t start with the whole ‘I’m not your last’ bullshit.” He shakes his head again, tears welling up in his eyes, anger still building. Really, what in the world? How could Tommy want to just throw away the most wonderful relationship that’s happened to Buck in years? Maybe ever? “You don’t know that. I don’t know that. Yeah, we could break up one day. But you could also be my forever, and I could be yours. I’d love a chance to find out, even if it hurts in the end. But maybe that’s just me. Maybe I’m the only one here brave enough to risk it. And- and what about my heart, huh?” Tears are threatening to spill, his voice shaking now, with sadness and anger, and desperation. He can’t let him go, he can’t. “You said I’d break your heart eventually. But this, right now? This is you breaking mine.” He finishes, almost panting now, his monologue taking the wind out of him, wanting to say everything on his mind, in his heart. He hopes he got his point across. 

“Evan.” Tommy just whispers, with a pained expression. There are tears in his eyes, too, one lone one slipping through, falling down his cheek. Buck’s hand itches to reach out and wipe it off, but he’s not sure if he’s allowed to anymore. 

“Give us a chance, Tommy. Let us fight for this. Fight for me, for us. Fight with me.” He’s aware he sounds like he’s begging at this point, but he doesn’t care. This is too important. “I thought it’s been so good between us lately-”

“It has!” Tommy rushes to say. “It’s been amazing. You make me so happy. That’s why I’m scared, I just- I’m sorry, Evan, but I can’t let myself get hurt like this again. Because I- I’ve been there before, and it was hard to get back up, and with you- I don’t think I’d be able to ever recover from this one.” He admits, his stone-faced facade crumbling, and Buck can see his own feelings reflected in Tommy’s expression. Sad, devastated, heartbroken. 

“We can- we can take some time apart.” Buck says around a lump in his throat. He feels like he can’t breathe. All he wants is to rewind until before he dropped the moving in bomb which must be what made Tommy freak out. He could say anything else, and take it slower, and maybe they’d be on their way out right now, a date night like they planned. “If that’s what you need. A break. But not for good. And then let’s come back to it clear-headed, knowing for sure what we want. And if you still want to break up, I- I’ll respect that. But I already know what I want,” he repeats firmly, decisively. “I want a future with you. I want to move in together, and one day down the line get married, and- and I want it all with you. We can slow down if I’m rushing this. I tend to do that, and if it’s scaring you, I’m sorry.” He adds, not wanting to backtrack any of this, but aware of how intense he’s coming off. He’s never been more serious about anything in his life. “But the past six months have been the best in my life. I’ve never felt so happy, so free, so comfortable, so safe. And I’m not giving up on you, Tommy. I will fight for you until I can’t anymore, until you tell me that you don’t care about me and I should just fuck off.”

“Evan. You know I’ll never say that.” Tommy responds quietly.

“I know. Because I’m confident in us, in the fact that you do care, and you do want me. I know that.” Buck emphasizes, and realizes, not for the first time, that he never felt like this before. This secure. This confident about someone wanting him. “I also know you’re just trying to protect yourself, your heart, and I get it. But I can’t let you go without a fight. I won’t. I messed up a lot in my life, and I won’t mess up this. I refuse to. Because I-” he takes a sharp breath, the words pressing on his lips. He doesn’t want to say it for the first time in a possible break up, a moment of such anger and devastation. But he needs to put it all out there. Needs Tommy to understand how much he’s trying to throw away right now. “I love you, Tommy.” He confesses, sees Tommy’s face melt into the saddest expression Buck’s ever seen on anyone, tears spilling freely now. Both of theirs, he realizes, feeling wetness on his cheeks. “I’ve been falling for you a little bit more with each day we spend together, with each minute. And I know- I hope you feel the same. But if you can look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t-” he swallows thickly, the thought alone is too much to bear. 

“I can’t do that.” Tommy interrupts quickly. “Of course I love you, Evan. It happened so quickly it kind of scared me a little.” 

“I noticed.” Buck says dryly, and Tommy lets out a humorless chuckle. “If you ask me, which you didn’t, by the way, you decided for both of us, which was an asshole move,” he points out, and Tommy looks away, as if ashamed. Good. Buck loves him, which means he’s gonna call out when he’s acting shitty. “I’d rather give us a real try and get my heart shattered if it comes to this, instead of always wondering what if, always wondering if you’re my one who got away. Which you would be.”

“I’m sorry.” He shakes his head, takes a step towards Buck, now just half a step away. “I’m sorry, maybe breaking up is too hasty. Impulsive,” he scoffs at himself, probably remembering how he called Buck that just a few minutes ago. Well, so maybe they’re both a little impulsive. Not a problem, in Buck’s opinion. “I don’t- I don’t want to break up. I never want to be away from you.” He says, his voice barely above a whisper. His hand flinches at his side, like he wants to reach out, grab Buck’s, touch him. Buck hopes he does. “It just- it seemed too fast. Like you got wrapped up in the moment. It’s still so new, I thought we were taking it one step at a time, and I didn’t-” he takes a deep breath, as if bracing himself, and Buck knows what he says is going to sting – and it does, it feels like a gut punch, actually, “I didn’t think you were as serious about this as I was getting. And I realize we should’ve done the mature thing and talked it out. I’m sorry. It’s just, we’ve barely talked about any future here. But I want it, of course I do. I’m just- I’m scared. My heart has never been in this much danger.” He looks into Buck’s eyes as he says it, more vulnerable than ever. This is everything Buck wants right now, for them to talk, to discuss this, to try fixing it, instead of one of them running away and the other giving up and not fighting for it. Buck’s been there, he doesn’t want a repeat.

“Tommy.” Buck is the one to close the distance between them, carefully brings his hands up to cup Tommy’s face, giving him a chance to back away, but he doesn’t. Instead, he breathes out a sigh of relief, like he craved Buck’s touch as much as Buck craves his. “You remember when I told you I wanted something with you? Even though I didn’t know what that something was yet?” he asks and Tommy nods slightly, Buck’s palms still resting on his cheeks. “I’ve been serious about you since that precise moment. About pursuing this, and wanting some kind of future with you. I know I tend to rush into things, it’s been a problem before.” He huffs a self-deprecating laugh. “I tried not to do that with you, but I failed, clearly. I just think from now on, we both should stay and talk and try to work it out if we have any issues with something. If you still want me.” He adds a little anxiously, but relaxed when he feels Tommy’s palms settle on his hips.

“Of course I want you, Evan. I always will.” Tommy says, that loving look in his eyes, that always makes Buck’s heart melt a little. That look that Buck loves so much, that made him think that Tommy might feel the same way.

“Good. Like I said, I’m not letting you go. Ever.” He says decisively, a huge weight that’s been there since the topic even started finally lifting off his chest. This might be the best thing that’s ever happened to him, and no matter the conclusion – which he’s pretty sure will be the happily ever after he’s always craved – it’s worth the risk, it’s worth everything.

“Good.” Tommy echoes, that gorgeous, scrunchy smile of his slowly spreading on his face, and it’s like sunshine came out from behind stormy clouds. “I don’t intend on letting you go, either. I love you, sweetheart. And I’m so sorry for… for this mess. For overreacting.”

“That’s fine, we’re past this- well, actually, we are gonna talk about it more, but at least we’re on the same page now, I hope.” Buck says, slowly leaning in. “I love you so much. I never want to lose you.”

“I’m sorry.” Tommy says again, and Buck just wants him to stop saying it. It’s fine, they’re fine now. “You won’t. You have me for as long as you want. I promise.”

“What if I want you forever?” Buck whispers, his face so close to Tommy's, their lips almost brush. It sends a shiver down his spine, like he hasn’t kissed him in days, when they just exchanged a quick kiss hello a few minutes ago.

“That works for me.” Tommy smiles again, and finally dives in for a kiss, but it lasts barely a second before he’s pulling away, Buck trying to follow. Tommy chuckles, running a comforting hand up and down Buck’s side. “But maybe let’s put a pause on the whole moving in together thing, huh? At least until we fully talk everything through.”

“Yeah, good idea.” Buck nods, his gaze flickering between Tommy’s eyes, now sparkling happily, and his pretty, kissable lips. It feels so good to be able to just have a mature conversation and resolve whatever issues arise. If they keep doing that, he thinks they’re going to be okay. He’ll make sure of that. “No need to be impulsive,” he adds, his lips twisting into a teasing smirk.

“Okay.” Tommy chuckles quietly, his cheeks reddening. “Just kiss me.” 

Buck doesn’t need to be told twice. He kisses Tommy like he means it, like he’s his person, like he’s the love of his life, trying to put all those emotions into a kiss. He knows for sure he’s getting the same intent back. And at this moment, in his kitchen, narrowly avoiding losing his love because of a stupid reason, he decides it. One day, not too quickly, but not too far into the future, he’s going to ask Tommy Kinard to marry him. And he’s more than sure of the response he’ll get.

[also on Ao3]

[restinslices]

ALRIGHT ENOUGH SWEETNESS. LIN KUEI BOYS FIRST TIME FUCKING THEIR PARTNER 🎤 (please)

Omg y’all, my brain let me write again😃

I don’t feel like looking for gifs and my storage space is in hell so I ain’t got photos. Sorry twin

Bi-Han

I know I start his parts off with “the haters will tell you” a lot 

IDC. Imma do it again 

The haters will tell you he won't care and he'll do his own speed and yadyadya. No. 

He's an asshole but be fr y'all 

I'm gonna write this as you're both experienced but it's your first time together. If that's not what you meant then lmk but until then-

You're both experienced but he's still careful 

He's the type to pick up speed fast but he's not immediately gonna be aggressive 

You're experienced but not with each other so he's gonna actively try to be slower and softer 

Very observant towards your needs and adapts quickly 

I think he’s observant in general so I think he’d easily notice how you react to certain things 

More of an action guy 

What I mean is he won’t verbally say a lot. Like you know how some people will ask “does this feel good?”? (That looks ugly as fuck-) He won’t 

He won’t because he’s paying attention to how you react and what gets the best reaction. He doesn’t need to say much 

He’s not completely silent but I don’t think he says much in general, so the first time would especially be quiet because he’s focusing 

Do I think he’s rough during sex? Yes. For the first time though? Probably not. He still feeling shit out

When it comes to making him feel good, he makes sure to let you know. He’d never be the type to lie about nutting. That’s just not him. He’s gonna make sure you do it right 

Very handsy 

He’s vocal when it comes to grunting and I think he’d go out of his way to make noise in your ear if it was something you enjoyed 

Pays attention to both your needs 

I could see him wanting to go a couple rounds before stopping 

Leaves tons of marks as a reminder of what happened 

Now that you’ve started now, don’t be surprised when he wants to do it consistently 

Kuai Liang

Mostly pays attention to what you need 

I think he’s way more verbal than Bi-Han so he’d actually verbally ask what feels good and what doesn’t 

He goes slow

Lots of emphasis on foreplay and trying to set the mood 

His lips are everywhere 

Like legit, every part of you has felt his lips or tongue 

I get it, you may think he’s very fast and intense because fire but no

Fire can also symbolize passion and Kuai Liang is a very passionate lover 

Considering it’s the first time, there’s no need to rush

The type to always be pleasing you. Even if you’re talking or making small comments, his fingers are still gonna be working on you 

When it comes to fucking he’s not doing it fast but how hard he’s going makes up for it 

Will go faster if you ask

Is also leaving marks 

Does frequent check ins to make sure everything is ok

He’s a big dude (in the sense he’s swole as fuck) so he’d probably prefer for you to be on top so he won’t crush you 

If I said he pulls on hair will I be booed or cheered?

If you’re bald then ignore that

Offers to give head. Doesn’t matter if you’re laying down or sitting on his face. He’s leaving here with smth-

The ratio when it comes to orgasming is off as fuck because he’s the type to pull out and start eating you out 

Extra points if it’s after you came 

He’s pulling out all the stops. You’re not going anywhere after this

Doesn’t particularly care how many rounds you go for

Main focus is on how many times you cum. There’s some people that try to be sweet and “I didn’t cum but if you’re tired then-“ don’t piss him off 

You’re either stopping because you’re tired or you’re shaking (or you wanting to stop but that’s not a saucy ending)

Tomas Vrbada

He’s always gonna be a sub to me, idc

He would try so hard to be big man on campus and all strong and shit, but bitch one good tug at the hair and he’s folding 

Lets you take the reigns for the first time 

Don’t think just because he likes being tossed around a lil, he ain’t gonna say how he feels. No 

You can be submissive and still assertive. That’s Tomas 

Similar to Kuai Liang in the sense that he is really focused on what you want and what feels good to you 

Already moans a lot and loud as fuck but he’s especially loud once he’s finally inside you 

He wants to go slow but life happens. The wind just kinda blows this way and next thing you know he’s fucking you like he’s saying goodbye. It’s the winds fault fr 

Is also verbal with what he wants and wants you to be too 

You’d think y’all have fucked several times with how comfortable he is when it comes to saying what he’s into. What do you mean “choke me”?

What do you mean you wanna fuck the cum outta someone or vice versa? Let’s take a breather, calm down, gather our thoughts-

Once he’s horny his brain shuts off and the whore comes out. You’d expect it’d be Bi-Han that would become this bold, but no. He’s bold all the time. Tomas gives mfs whiplash. 

Like bro we were just eating dinner 20 minutes ago

Like I said, he’s really focused on what you want since it’s your first time. You gotta leave an impression 

Is his brain cells shutting off? Yes. Will them bitches turn back on if he notices you don’t like something or you say something feels weird? Yes 

He’s attentive 

Probably came before you because he’s sensitive but he’s not the type to roll over and be like “welp, guess it’s a wrap”

He wants your brain to be as fuzzy as his and he’s determined to make that shit happen 

Idk why I changed my profile to this Fear Street aesthetic when I never write for them but here we are. I wanted to change it and this is where I landed.

[intheorangebedroom]

The corner deli, part 2

Summary: Frankie takes you on a second date. Somehow, firearms are still involved...

Pairing: Frankie Morales x fem!reader

Rating: Explicit 🔞

A/N:  Happy Frankie Friday, Orange besties 🧡 Thank you so much for your kind response to part 1! I hope you like this part too (pun intended). And please, see the end notes 🧡

Word count: 4.1k (I managed to cram in nearly all my kinks, can I get a woot woot?)

[part 1] [blog masterlist]

Part 2: Crimson and Clover

“Isn’t it cheating, though?”

The carnival rifle looks comically small between his hands. He presses the trigger, and a fourth balloon explodes with a loud popping sound, amplified by the wooden box. You jump. He doesn’t even blink.  

“How is it cheating?” he asks, looking down at you with a cocked eyebrow as he casually reloads a tiny lead bullet into the rifle’s barrel. Wow. Competency, much?

“Well, you were in the Army. Don’t they train you to shoot at stuff?” you ask, eyes trained on the little target inked on his left hand.

He shrugs. 

“You want that teddy bear, or not?”

“I do. I do want the teddy bear. It’s– it’s a plush Grogu, but yes, I do want it.”

“The plush green alien, yea.”

You make a face, taking mock offense.

The date —he said it was a date, so you guess you can call it that, right?— has been going extremely well, so far. Conversation flowing easy, stolen glances that don't make you wanna crawl out of your skin; he’s asked you a lot of questions, but it didn’t feel forced. You’re not sure if your brain is not gonna ask for payback at 3am on a Sunday, but you're feeling relaxed and at ease. He’s paid for everything, the diner, the rides, even the cotton candy, but he didn’t make a show of it. You could get used to this. The hanging out, that is, not necessarily the paying for everything part. 

“I’m teasin’ you. I love Star Wars too.”

“You do? Wait, are you one of those fans who’s gonna tell me I am not a real fan because I haven’t read all the books and comics and I can’t speak Jawa, but really it’s because I got a vagina?”

“Do I look like the kind of man who feels threatened by a vagina?” 

Oh. Oh shit. Ok.  

“Guess not,” you whisper, ducking your head so he can’t see your cheeks, that are fucking burning up. 

“Star Wars is actually the reason I became a pilot.”

He brings the butt stock of the rifle to his shoulder, adjusting his aim, and oh boy, he’s a sight to behold. That poor t-shirt of his is pulled taut across the breadth of his shoulders, seams ready to burst. You admire the way his thick finger slides around the trigger guard, and in, before another balloon goes BOOM. 

The young man keeping the stand lets out an ostentatious sigh. He grabs a long pole with a hook at the end to get you the toy, but really, it looks more like it’s a pitchfork he’s gonna chase you away with.  

“How’s that?” you manage to articulate. 

“Han Solo is the coolest, and I wanted to be as cool as Han Solo.” 

He gives you a shy grin, setting the rifle down on the counter. 

“Shut up! I wanted to be Leia!”

His eyebrows shoot up.

“Is that so?” he asks, taking a step closer to you.

Oh. Oh. 

Oh, that’s close. He’s crowding you against the counter, towering over you, his heady scent wrapping around you and he gives you that cocky look that turns your legs into Jell-o.

“Yeah,” you whisper, trying your hardest not to stare at the dip between his collarbone, and the little freckles on the tanned skin of his neck. 

The stand employee shoves the ginormous Grogu into your back, propelling you into Frankie’s chest. The man is HOT. Like, really hot. His skin is on fire, you can feel the heat through his threadbare t-shirt.

“Can I take you and Grogu home now, or is it too fast?” he says, his breath fanning your lips. “I don’t know how these things are supposed to work.”

Oh god, his hips are pressing into yours.

“I’ve no idea either, but I think you’re doing fine.”

“Yea?”

“Mmh mmh,” is the only sound you manage to produce.

“Good. Let’s go. Gonna make you see stars,” he adds, pushing away from you, and he immediately winces at the lame joke.

“Wow. Really?” you laugh. 

He flinches, hiding his pretty face under the brim of his hat.

“Fuck…”

—

Well, he wasn’t lying. You saw stars. And then you saw stars again. And again. And then you saw some more.

But the first thing you see when you get to his place is how clean it is. Tidy, but in a lived-in way.  

It’s a one-bedroom apartment on the fourth floor of a brick building. The kitchen sink is empty, a single plate and set of cutlery drying on the metal rack next to it. Some magnets adorn the fridge, among which you recognize a picture by Manuel Álvarez Bravo, and another by Berenice Abbott, and you try to police your expression because these are your two favorite photographers and that’s a pretty freaky coincidence, right? 

You step into the living-room while he washes his hands. It’s cozy. A soft amber glow pours in from the streetlights through the three narrow windows, behind a big slouchy leather couch. There’s a plant that looks alive and well on the console next to it, and an entire wall of seemingly handmade shelves, lined with books. The TV is old, downright ancient, and there’s a turntable propped onto a vintage stereo. An opened book lies face down on the coffee table. 

You crane your neck to read the title. Engineering Circuit Analysis. Okay, so that won’t be a conversation starter. 

You don’t know if the place always looks this tidy or if he cleaned it because he thought you might be coming over, and you’re not sure if the sheer assumption shouldn’t be a red flag, given it’s only the second time you’re seeing the guy, but you find that you don’t care. You really don’t. Not in the least. 

He joins you in the living-room, but he doesn’t turn the lights on. He’s taken his hat off and he’s combing his fingers through his thick mane of curls, and that sight alone was worth driving all the way here in his truck. 

“Want something to drink?” he asks, and that’s a very good question, do you want something to drink? 

You should, probably, because your mouth is so dry you can’t even gulp, and your nerves could use some alcohol, but you just stand here, like an idiot, watching him walk slowly toward you, wondering how close he’s gonna get before he stops walking.

Very close, apparently.

He looks so fucking tall and broad, you don’t think you’ll ever get used to it, but then again, it’s only the second time you see him. He leans over you, you have to twist your neck up to keep your eyes on his, but really, what you want to do is chew on his lips. Or his neck. You’re not picky.

He hooks his index fingers into the belt loops of your jeans to draw you in. Fuck, now your panties are ruined.

Time goes in slow motion as he licks his lips, his gaze flickering between your eyes and your mouth. 

“I’m gonna kiss you now. Is it ok?”

“Yes, please.”

Yes, please, Jesus fucking Christ, can you get any more cringe?

“There’s a lot of things I’m wanna do to you, if I gotta be honest,” he adds.

Oh, there, you can gulp. You think people might have heard you swallow from the other side of town.

“Okay. You can… do your worst, Morales.”

“You sure? Because my worst is… You need to tell me if–”

“Yes. I’m sure. You got my consent. All of it. Please.”

Who needs dignity? Not you. Not today.

“You’re fucking adorable, you know that? I am going to ruin you.”

You hate meeting new people. Meeting guys. You hate that whole dance, when you have to pretend you don’t really wanna fuck each other, oh but really you do, you hate getting undressed in front of a literal stranger, the awkwardness of it, new skin, new touch, everything grosses you out and you feel like curling into a ball inside your own skin, waiting for it to be fucking over. 

But this, this is different. Of course, it’s different, everything has been since you’ve laid eyes on him across that aisle in the corner deli.

You want him. God, you’re practically vibrating with it. And you want him to want you, too. 

He presses his lips to yours, and it’s subtle, the delicate, albeit insistent press of it, testing but also very much signifying you he’s gonna do everything he said he would, pulling you closer with your belt loops. 

Fuck it, you think. Fuck it. You want this. All of it. The taste of him and the weight of him and his touch and his skin. 

Your eyes flutter shut and you lean into the kiss with a quiet little moan, your hands traveling up his large back, balling his t-shirt in your fists. He doesn’t miss a beat, his hand comes up to cup your face, fingers carding through your hair and you feel the wet glide of his tongue, prompting you to open. 

You do. Oh god, you do, and you taste the cotton candy as he licks into you. There’s the little tickle from his mustache, the pressure on your waist, the sparkling tingle along your spine and everything is delicious. His other hand is kneading at the curve of your hip, sliding down to your ass and he grabs you there, strong fingers splayed right between your cheeks, it’s firm and hungry and commanding.

He pulls you flush into him, and with a gently swaying motion against your belly, he lets you feel it. Feel what you do to him. Feel how much he wants you.  

Your body goes slack and tense at the same time, loose limbs, loose chest, clenching cunt and hardening nipples. 

“Fuck,” he gasps, pulling away just a bit, “fuck, you’re sweet.”

He doesn’t give you time to answer, not that you’d know what to say, his mouth is on yours again, his plush lips a perfect fit against yours, his tongue swirling inside you. And the kiss lingers, languid, unhurried, his hands roaming your figure, strong and slow, kneading your curves and using the grip to press you closer and closer into him.

When your fingers thread through his hair, you give his locks a little tug that has him grunting into your mouth. He breaks the kiss, but his mouth remains on you, lips sucking along the edge of your jaw, teeth scraping down your throat, slick pooling sticky and wet between your hips. 

There’s the ghost of a bite over your pulse point; you moan into it and suddenly, time accelerates. His kisses get frantic, he’s devouring you, only lifting his lips off your skin to tug off your t-shirt, deft fingers unclasping your bra. You pull so hard on his shirt you might as well rip it, but he only bites you harder, pushing into you stronger. The back of your knees hit the coffee table, you fall onto the couch. 

And that’s when everything slows again.

His gaze, raking over your naked breasts as he stands before you. His tongue darting between his parted lips. His movements, as he unbuckles his belt. 

You get lost in the sight of his chest, bare, broad, golden in the orange semi-darkness. 

“Take off the rest of your clothes, baby,” he says, and the endearment shoots right through you. 

You’re never recovering from this night, this much you can tell. You’ll want this man forever, you are so fucked. 

You manage to get rid of your shoes and your jeans, but it’s a damn miracle with how much your hands are shaking. He’s toed off his boots and unbuttoned his pants without taking his eyes off you even for a split second. 

There’s something carnivorous in the half-smile dancing on his lips. He’s palming the bulge tenting his black boxer briefs, and you’re about to slide off your panties without a second thought when he stops you. 

“Wait. Bedroom. C’mere.”

Yes, sir. 

You stand up on wobbly legs and his hand skims around the curve of your hip, down the swell of your ass. He takes your arm, lifts it up to wrap around his neck, and you follow, diligently, circling your other arm around his broad shoulders. 

He picks you up like you fucking weigh nothing, how strong is this guy? What do they feed them in the Army? 

He keeps you there for a moment, your legs wrapped around his tapered waist, skin on skin, his head slightly tilted up and his eyes boring into yours. His hands grasping your ass cheeks, a bruising grip, the tip of his fingers reaching into that hollow curve at the top of your thighs, under the line of your panties, where you’re soaked with want for him. 

Your heart is beating so fast, pounding so hard, it’s going to tear out of your chest. Land right into his. 

The crease in his brow deepens, his gaze on you intensifies, thoughts clouding his rich brown eyes. He opens his mouth, as if to say something, but closes it again.   

“Frankie—” you start, but he cuts you in. 

“Wait. I need to know this is not a one-time thing. I’m gonna see you again, right?”

“Oh,” you breathe out.

There are people laughing outside in the street. The sound of a police siren in the distance. A dog barking. You commit everything to memory. The amber darkness, the city noises, the hope in his eyes. The sensation of his strong hold, and that of your hardened nipples grazing his chest. 

“Yes. Yes, please,” you whisper, and he smiles, that wide dimpled smile you’d do everything for, his fingers burrowing a little deeper into your flesh. 

He carries you into the bedroom, bathed in the same orange semi-darkness, and lays you onto his bed. You sink into the fluffy cottony material of the comforter that smells like him. Leather and musk and safety. He hovers over you, eyes locked on yours. 

He rocks gently into you, just a faint press, his waist spreading your hips open, his hands roaming along the expanse of your naked skin, palming your breasts. The fabric of his tight boxers catches at your soaked panties, the button of his jeans biting into your belly. 

“Can I taste you?” he asks, his voice a low husk, and for a second, you think he’s asking if he can kiss you again, but you quickly register, and your eyes grow wide. 

You nod, unable to articulate around the anticipation swelling in your throat. 

He makes a start at moving over you, but stops, and instead leans in to kiss you again. A wide, hungry kiss, licking into you avidly, pressing into you greedily, swallowing your moans as your fingernails run through his nape and into his hairline. 

He pulls away, and you all but whine, chasing his lips, rising to your elbows. Unwavering, he moves down on the bed, and there’s another flash of that carnivorous smile as he takes off his jeans, as he kneels between your legs. 

You watch, wide-eyed and ragged breath, as he brushes his knuckles along that curve at the top of your thigh, thick fingers hooking under the elastic band of your panties, pulling it to the side. He smiles at you again, before his head dips. 

His tongue parts your fold, and your head lolls back between your shoulders with a strangled cry. His hand pushing up the back of your knee, spreading you wider than you ever thought your body capable of, he licks into you with a rumbling groan. 

The curled tip of his tongue dives deep into your cunt, tasting you with thorough strokes, but he lifts his head with a pained grunt and a sliver of self-consciousness rips through your chest. 

“Fuck, baby, I think you’re going to ruin me.”

Your arms buckle, your back hitting the mattress, and he slides your panties down, twisting them around his wrist, before hooking your legs over his broad shoulders, and he buries his face into your cunt again. 

The wet glide of this tongue is hot and heavy, licking in broad stripes, sucking on your clit, thrusting into you. Arousal pools in, sticky and rich, at the base of your spine, streaming down your walls. You moan and wither against his mouth, and he chases your movements, cueing his ministrations to your reactions. 

Wet, explicit sounds fill the bedroom. He plays you like an instrument, your hips bucking against his face, wanton whimpers spilling out of you like music, fingers threading through his curls, and he brings you close, so close to your release, without ever letting you tip over the edge.

He’s taking his sweet time about it, true to his word, and you're begging now, sweet little moans you didn’t know your voice could carry, Frankie, Frankie please.

Gently, he eases your legs down, sitting back on his haunches on the bed. It’s a hitched breath, a broken little cry as cold air hits your soaked cunt but he runs a soothing hand along your inner thigh. 

“Shh, I got you, baby. I got you.”

Empty. The word flashes through your dazed brain, and you turn your head to the side to hide your face in the comforter. 

You’re empty, and you want him to fill you up. And you don’t know what you’re hiding from, if it’s from him or the embarrassment of being so fucking needy or the magnitude of your desire, but there’s this abyss inside you only him can fill and fuck, you’ve never felt this vulnerable before. Why now? Why him?

His finger presses at your entrance and you let out a quivering breath. A shallow thrust, an easy glide, and he adds another. Your back arches with relief. A flex of his digits, and he’s stroking a soft spot inside your cunt you didn’t know existed. 

With your last shred of strength, you lift your head up. He’s watching you, his boxers pulled down, practiced fingers circling his cock, dragging slowly up and down along the length of it. The orange glow from the streetlights ripples over his skin in amber shades and dark shadows. Your eyes trace the broad span of his chest, his strong, corded neck, the dark crown of his curls. 

The man looks like a fucking god.  

“Jesus,” you whimper, and he chuckles, that wolfish smile tugging at the corner of his lips. The bottom half of his face glints in the semi-darkness, shiny with your slick. Precome dribbling over his knuckles. This is fucking filthy. You revel in it.

Your head drops with a soundless laugh, hips swaying along with his stroking fingers. 

You’re going to lose your mind with how good it feels, you think, but then it gets even worse, or better, when he lowers his thumb to your clit, rubbing smooth circles over it and your chest heaves with a silent plea. 

Soon, a tremor sizzles along your thighs, your release coiling brisk and strong at the center of you. It builds up like electricity, like liquid fire, potent and fast and white-hot.

Your entire body is alight with it, it travels down every nerve-ending and you come undone, you fucking unravel, his name dragging out on your lips. 

He lowers himself to slant his mouth over your cunt and you recoil, but he’s careful, his tongue darting swiftly into you, drinking your release with greedy groans. 

When he’s sure to have it all, he moves back over you, his face out of focus through your glazed eyes, the bulk of him engulfing you, his heady scent filling your lungs. 

“Wanna taste how sweet you are?” he asks, and you nod, sprawled out, boneless, pliant. 

His hand hinges your jaw open, thumb on your bottom lip. His spit rolls down his tongue into your open mouth and his hooded eyes, black with want, flicker down to your throat as you swallow it all. 

“Oh, you’re a good girl,” he marvels, and the praise is like a shockwave, like a second high, it coats your palate and sticks to your skin. You could swear it’s fucking tangible. 

You need more, more of him, more of that, but you’re not sure what’s next. This is uncharted territory. No man has ever prioritized your pleasure over his, before. 

You lift your hips off the mattress, bucking into him, but he frowns.

“If you need time—”

“I need you inside me,” you plead. 

“It’s a lot more than two fingers, baby,” he warns and yes, you can tell, with the heavy weight of his cock thrumming hot and angry against your belly. 

“I can take it.”

He huffs a smile, but it quickly falls when you tip your chin, wrapping his thumb between your lips. Your tongue curls around the pad of it as you suck on it, and you hear him gulp. One all. 

Oh, but he was right, it’s more, much more than two fingers, and his first thrust, however gentle, however shallow, has you squirming around the stretch of him. Your fingernails digging into his arms, he grunts with the effort, pushing in slowly, pulling out, and in again, sweat beading along his spine, restraint tensing his jaw. 

You lift your head, scraping your teeth over that bare patch in his scruffy jaw. 

“I can take it,” you repeat, and he growls, head dropping into the curve of your neck, sinking his sharp teeth into the soft skin at the base of your throat. 

He shoves himself in down to the base, and you cry out, but he doesn’t stop. He moves into you. With deep thorough thrusts, fast-paced and rough, he fills you up, just like you wanted, just like you asked, skin catching around his girth at your entrance. Sucking hard on the tender skin of your neck, sharp little bruises blooming in purple flecks along the column of your throat. 

Knees hitched up high along his sides, you feel sweat breaking on your forehead as you ease into his relentless rhythm, into the impossible size of him, into the pleasure-pain, because this is what you wished for. To feel him tonight. To feel him still tomorrow. And perhaps the day that follows. 

His grunts fan the shell of your ear, sending more slick rushing down your walls. His hand squeezes your breast, his trigger finger and thumb pinching your nipple, merciless, and your cunt starts to flutter along his length, a frantic collapsing of your walls, eyes clenched shut under your pinched brow. 

“Oh god, I’m so close,” you whine, and he straightens up without breaking his rhythm. 

“I wanna see your face when you come on my cock”, he growls, hooking his elbow under your knee, using it for leverage to bear you down on his cock as he picks up the fucking pace. 

His broad hand splayed reverently over your belly, the heel of it is a steady pressure over your clit, and when you come, your whole body quaking with the force of your second relief, he quickly follows, pulling out just in time to spurt thick pearly ropes over your quivering skin. 

“Oh shit, look at you,” he pants, before he collapses on the bed next to you, chest heaving. 

You lie there side by side for a beat, the room around you slowly coming back into focus. That damn dog is still barking, the night traffic a low and distant hum. 

Would it… would it be okay, acceptable, if you gathered his come with your fingers and licked them clean? Could you ask him to fuck your mouth, next? Or should you scamper off the bed to gather your clothes and leave? What’s the common protocol here? No one has ever turned you into this feral, greedy little monster before.  

He clears his throat. Oh fuck, that��s it. He’s gonna politely hint that you should now be leaving the premises. 

“Can you stay the night?”

Your eyes flutter shut. A hindered little sob rattles inside your chest. You address a heartfelt thank you to your lucky star for the midnight cravings that placed you in that corner deli the same night as him. Fuck, you’ll throw one in for that armed robber too.

“Do you want me to stay?” you ask.

He turns to his side to face you, folding his arm and propping his chin in his hand. His soft brown eyes meet yours. And there’s that gentle smile that swells up your heart three sizes.

“Yes, please.”

****

End note: the opening scene is very much inspired by one of the fair scenes in Anchor Stitch, on Ao3. Not for every one, but one of my all-time favourites. Also, this is fanfiction, so I wasn't going to bother with a fucking condom, but I know you're smarter than that.

Part 1

[a-lilypad]

@jegulus-microfic | march 31: body hair | 876 words

regulus calls the fire station when a strange burn mark appears in his house and fireman james comes to investigate (cw: mentions of sex and someone nearly gets set on fire but doesn't get hurt)

Barty is laughing. Regulus is in the middle of a crisis and Barty has the nerve to laugh at him. He knows he must look ridiculous, pulling at his plaid pyjama bottoms, zipping and unzipping his ratty hoodie, and adjusting his hair using every reflective surface in his house, but how was he meant to know the local firemen had become hot? 

He’d called the fire station earlier in the day after finding a mysterious hole burned into his downstairs carpet. Stumbling downstairs in a desperate search for coffee at 7 am he’d spotted it from the corner of his eye. It was quite small and in an odd place, just in front of a cupboard he barely used, and it looked almost as if some acid had corroded his floor.

Regulus had hounded Barty, his best friend and current roommate, but Barty swore it wasn’t him. Though he didn’t quite believe him, it was too big to be a cigarette burn which did, annoyingly, put the blame on something else.

However, what that something is he still has no clue, and it’s been driving him a bit insane. He had sat in front of the hole cradling his massive mug of coffee with his chin resting on his knees just..glaring at it. For hours, until he’d been dragged away from it and forced onto the sofa instead.

The fire brigade had taken forever to get there, he’d thought they’d forgotten him and was about to phone them again (third time’s a charm) when the doorbell echoed and he jumped up, tripping over his feet in the rush to get to the door while flipping Barty off for laughing at his urgency. 

He’d yanked the door open, flushed and breathing heavier than normal and proceeded to immediately choke on his words because the man standing in his doorway was the fittest person he had ever had the pleasure of seeing.

Messy brown hair, big hazel eyes framed by gold wire, and soft rosy lips. His brain short-circuited and all he could think of was what those lips would look like wrapped around him. He was screwed.

Now the hot fireman (James, he’d learned), is on his hands and knees inspecting the floor, and Regulus is lost for words. He’s pretty sure he’s drooling actually. His arse….dear lord. You could end world hunger with it. Regulus wants nothing more than to dig his teeth into it. Maybe take a chunk out of it and bring it with him wherever he goes as a reminder that the world is a beautiful and wonderful place.

James chooses that exact moment to sit up and take off his jacket, revealing the sluttiest shirt he’s ever seen. This uniform should be fucking illegal. It’s so tight that Regulus can see every single curve, every dimple, every line of the man’s body, it barely fits him, he is bursting out of it, the material squeezing the top of his arms. He wonders how the seams haven't burst yet.

His arms. Wow.

They’re huge and covered in black ink, two full sleeves of intricate patterns and whenever he moves they flex, golden brown skin glinting in the light. He’s definitely drooling now. Barty has to lean over and shut his mouth for him. 

“So, James is it?” Barty says, smirking, and Regulus has never turned his head so fast, glaring at his soon-to-be ex-best friend, right eye twitching. He wouldn’t fucking dare…oh who was he kidding of course he would, he lives to make Regulus’ life a living hell. He should have kicked Barty out the minute James got here.

James hums in affirmation as he goes back to probing the hole in the carpet. Regulus wishes that was him. 

He can see Barty’s smug smile and his eyes twinkling and starts slowly approaching, moving into hitting distance. “You got a girlfriend? Or a boyfriend of course, there’s just no way a hot guy like you is singl-ow fuck!” he breaks off as Regulus elbows him sharply in the side while hissing at him to shut up.

James turns around with a cocked eyebrow, smiling, and lets out a chuckle, “Nope, no girlfriend,” then looks straight at Regulus, gazing deep into his soul as if he’s searching for something, “or boyfriend,” and he winks. HE WINKS. Regulus cannot handle this man he feels a bit faint.

As he flops down on the sofa he sees James stretching, his arms reaching above his head looking like some form of God, his shirt lifting and revealing a strip of soft skin and a line of thick black hair leading down and down and down…his eyes follow it, he’s unable to look away. Regulus loves a guy with body hair, but happy trails have always sent him crazy.

He picks up a pillow and holds it over his crotch hoping he’s being subtle, but by Barty’s sudden cackle, he guesses not so much. Although he doesn’t have to worry about it for long as James goes back to poking around, chuckling a bit under his breath until a huge fucking white spark bursts from his floor effectively stopping the laughter but also setting his carpet on fire.

Huh. That’s probably not a good sign.

[katanablue]

This has been rotting in my brain (and notes) so I bring to you

Barbarian! Bayverse Raph

Barbarian!Raph who’s the biggest and most brutal of his brothers, proudly wears his title like a gold crown and wears a fur pelt from whatever latest animal he killed like it’s a prize.

Barbarian!Raph who makes weapons from teeth, bone, horns, really anything. He’s good with his fists but does need a spear or two to fight.

Barbarian!Raph who loves the thrill of a hunt and always volunteers to get rid of any sort of issue going around.

Barbarian!Raph who has no problem being violent. It’s in his nature and it’s all he’s ever known. Until he meets you.

Barbarian!Raph who first meets you covered in blood after fighting his latest victims in a village he had ambushed. He had been scouting around to make sure the coast was clear when he stumbled upon you hiding in an abandoned hut and pathetically holding a stick as poor weapon.

Barbarian!Raph who huffed through his nose and shoved aside broken furniture to get closer, scrutinizing at how small and fragile you look huddled up in the corner.

Barbarian!Raph who’s ready to just leave you there but something tugs at his heart and suddenly he finds himself hoisting you up by the back of your shirt and dragging you out the hut with him.

Barbarian! Raph who drags you along back to his brothers who are no doubt confused when their violent brother brings back someone alive. Raph simply says nothing and leaves you while he goes off back into the woods to get food.

Barbarian!Raph who brings back a boar and cooks it to perfection for you, sitting next to you by the fire while you munch quietly.

Barbarian!Raph who isn’t a man of many words but you’ve learned to read his mannerisms and habits, deciphering what a grunt means when it’s a certain pitch or when he has a specific look in his eye.

Barbarian!Raph who protects you so fiercely and would kill anyone for even looking at you the wrong way.

Barbarian!Raph who’s only known violence, bloodshed, and war. Thinking that it was all there was to life, happy and relieved that you are the one to prove him wrong.

Barbarian!Raph who comes home one day showered in blood, reminiscent of the first time you met and looks so unbelievably on edge that you worry he’s going to pop at any second. He needs to let out this tension and God does he want to unleash it on you but doesn’t want to scare you off.

Barbarian!Raph who has gotten so used to your gentle touches from cleaning his wounds and stitching him up, caring for him in such a delicate way, is completely and utterly taken aback when you tell him that he doesn’t have to gentle with you. Not in this moment.

Barbarian!Raph who sees red and completely and wholly ravishes you, fucking you hard and fast. It’s animalistic, raw carnal desire that’s been brewing inside him over the time he’s had you. He leaves marks all over your body, claiming his stake on you, leaving his scent everywhere he can because even though he knows they wouldn’t, he selfishly wants his brothers to know that you’re his.

Barbarian!Raph who’s not the best at aftercare but tries his best anyway. He rubs ointment that Donnie made all over you to soothe your aching and sore muscles, leaving apologetic kisses and churring quietly. He makes a silent vow to be more gentle next time, promising that he won’t be such a brute when he takes you.

Barbarian!Raph who clutches you tight to his chest as you lay on the fur bed, rubbing his hand up and down your back as you start to slumber off. He hooks his muscled leg over yours, afraid that you’ll slip away and this whole moment will be nothing but a dream.

Barbarian!Raph who thinks you’re asleep and takes the opportunity to whisper ‘I love you’ for the first time, not knowing that you were awake to hear it and tell him the same thing back the very next morning.

[hurtspideyparker]

What do you think about Marvel's move bringing back RDJ but now as Dr. Doom. I just wondered how this would affect Peter...

At first I was like OH MY GOD ROBERT DOWNEY JR. because I just adore! him! And of course I would love him back in Marvel, cuz I'm a sap and RDJ as Tony Stark revolutionized superhero cinema. Also "new mask same task" and striking the Tony Stark T pose? Legendary stuff.

Then I actually thought about the implications and the character, and I'm just not a fan. Bringing Downey back as anyone but Tony Stark is really weird, and doesn't make sense. Feels like an insane Tony Stark+Dr. Doom plot, which they made up just to get RDJ back cuz he's the money maker. Plus Dr. Doom deserves a new unique actor, especially a Romani one. I do love Dr. Doom as an MCU villain though, if he is cast properly. If they were gonna bring a Tony variant into the MCU make him a TONY variant, using Dr. Doom isn't it. Although under different circumstances I'd love to see more of RDJ as an antagonist, he's an incredible actor (his 1998 film US Marshalls started a fire in me for him to play more villains).

ANYWAYS - ignoring all the negative stuff, let's talk about Peter Parker!

I'd like to imagine a scene where Peter is fighting Doom - he's using his usual quips, being silly. He thinks it's just another day, another villain. Doom is incredibly strong and it's a tough fight, but Peter just manages the perfect hit to tear Doom's mask off.

Then he hesitates.

While scarred and cruel, the sight is still unmistakably familiar.

"Tony?"

Doom doesn't waver, he strikes Peter with deadly and immediate force in his moment of weakness.

Peter goes flying backwards, smashing through glass and brick.

He's hurt, badly, lying still on the floor beneath Doom. Bloody and torn Doom leaves him there, a pitiful and easily distracted kid. He doesn't know what he said, nor does he care. Von Doom just squashed a bug.

Left alone, Peter suffers from the ache in his body, the hit to his ego, and the biggest question - what did he see?

He questions whether he was drugged, or having a stress-induced hallucination. It doesn't make any sense for this to catch up to him in the middle of a battle. That's usually when he's most focused and level headed.

Sure, he used to see Mr. Stark. In billboard models with goatees, in the kind smile of a professor, in the corner of his eye when walking down the street. He never thought it was really him though, and it's been years since he's been struck so painfully with memories of his old mentor.

This, this is completely different. He stared right at Tony's face as clear as day.

Maybe Peter drags himself to the nearest hero. Still bloody and bruised, but he has to tell someone what he saw. Who is there? Who can he call? Hawkeye? Bruce Banner? Daredevil? They may not know Peter Parker, but he's still Spider-Man. He has a big name, and I'm curious who's taken notice.

Personally, I'd kill to finally get a Spider-Man and Fantastic Four team up in theatres. With the FF movie coming out and Doom being a big nemesis to the team I'm really hoping we get some Fantastic Four and Avengers interactions.

Anyways. Peter warns them, or does research on his own. He obsesses over this Doctor Doom.

Fast forward, maybe Doom and Peter work together against another evil, or Doom's own invention. Or maybe they're just near each other enough to get to know one another.

Doom and Stark do have some things in common, and I think that would strike a chord in Peter. Doom is an intellectual, a scientist, he's a self-absorbed perfectionist.

Doom commends Peter on his genius, his capabilities. Offers him a deal to join him and put his brain to good use. It would hit too close to home for Peter. A kid who wanted nothing more than to be like Tony Stark, to be strong and intelligent. To have his old mentor look at him and acknowledge his effort.

It messes with Peter's head and brings up his unresolved issues with Tony. It makes him sick.

Peter Parker got erased, and now it's like he's reliving his youth and trauma in some twisted and dark remake.

Maybe there's something bigger at play here. Maybe someone is haunting him, torturing him.

Laughing at him.

[sirwow]

I need to get out my bleeding heart for minecraft because man this game basically created the foundation and growth of my brain however rocky and I need to tell the world because I said so.

This game is a canvas. Not a empty one mind you but a canvas nonetheless. The one presented to all to begin being a world in which they’re left to learn and discover and build or destroy all on their own. Or maybe with a friend, or many. Someone’s first experience with Minecraft likely isn’t picking it up randomly but rather being told tales by others of what they weaved with the canvas they were given.

Weather that person was as quaint to just add a few additions to the canvas; a small wooden house situated inside a cool looking cave with some silly story about a creeper and a fire. Or if this person was someone you don’t really know but they put themselves out there to show their work to the world. A completely blank canvas with only one block? Why not? A downright ridiculous looking building with the sole goal of getting melons? Sure.

These stories and art is what makes this game so special. Something so stupid and mundane like a bunch of 1 block jumps with a goofy voice over and sound effects can still be such a great and beautiful thing with heart and care. We can’t understand every work but damnit I have respect for every last aspect and one. The depths of this game truly allowing everyone have some place, from leisure to mastery. I can not mention everyone but I will cover the broad strokes and their wonders.

Firstly to the builders of Minecraft. You are the forefront and most clear of your art. It is art within the most literal sense of the word, weather it is a building with intricate detail in every crevice and corner thought out meticulously. Or those of the larger then ourselves works. Organic mythical works of dragons, people, animals and more. Builds only made to be viewed once at one angle akin to a real painting. The recreations or creations of yours dreams and hopes. Or even just the humble home and village to create a story of as you survive. Creative, builders tools, survival, challenge play throughs. You’re all artists.

Redstoners. Though siblings of builders, your work lays in numbers, timing, mechanical works. Fixing issues you created for yourself when trying to achieve a goal. It may just be making the fastest door, or the largest and you’d still manage to break so many boundaries with time. Or it is those beyond my personal comprehension. You make machines capable of manipulating the behavior of the game itself by going through the cracks found over the decade of redstone. As much as it is wizardry to myself I wish someday to learn this as well if I ever choose to go down such a path. However as of now my eyes are set on another unexpected and undermined path that is next.

PVP. One much loathed by those outside it and I am guilty of such for almost a decade but as now Iv become knee deep in the waters of it myself I also see how it’s an art. Maybe more in the martial sense as obvious but it’s still very impressive what I see and understand in it now. The functions beyond “swing sword good”; a much deeper phycological game aspect to it then seen outside and understanding the intricacies of mechanics you generally give little thought to playing normally. Just how much health does each weapon do- crit or not. How fast can a crossbow reload, watch your sprint or you might just lose. On and on. Iv gained a lot of respect for it.

Parkour. Get your parkour civilization jokes out of the way- this is probably the MOST fundamental part of the game and I find it downright magical what can be done with it. I realize I’m saying that a lot but it’s 1 am shh. Anywho it’s got all its ins and outs. The ice parkour, neos, fences, drip leaf, combined redstone and timing, trapdoors and more. I’m missing about 50 here but that just goes to show how deep it is.

Off of parkour comes our good friend Speedrunning!!! Dedication and time in its most raw. Triangulation for college? Wrong! Block game. It’s a mental load to take on and the aspect of random chance and taking everything on your shoulders is persistence and patience.

And the best part of all of this? They all come together in their own ways for hundreds nay thousands of ways to play. All without touching on the deep deep well that is servers. Skyblock players, pvpers, ice boaters, niche specialists games (Cops v Crims, Bedwars, party games, tower defense, MMORPGs, one in the quiver for my old chums out there, ect) you all have my undying interest and respect in the details and depths of what you love.

So now you have the little canvas before you. Make what you wish no matter how bad. No one will create something identical to what you choose and it’s your story to paint- no matter how lame, small, boring, bad, or ugly you might claim it to be. I want it to still be made and for you to explore whatever depths you choose. Weather that be the simple literal ones, finding a neat cave or what have you, or finding a passion buried under the rubble.

And me? I guess I’ll keep doing my thing of watching and learning about all the silly little corners this game has and mastering what I can even if that takes another decade to do. The universe loves me and it loves you too, go and create.

[bruciemilf]

Imagine that one scene from that animated series justice league where Batman reveals everyone's secret identity(like a badass) then takes off his cowl and they're all in shocked confusion. I mean that's baby girl Bruce Wayne, sunshine of Gotham as The Dark Knight. Then they all get really protective of him. They might've feared him before but now they know he's just baby. It doesn't matter that he can beat them all, he's baby... Idk I find the idea cute

Okay, so I love that scene dearly, but my heart screams for something more personal? If that makes sense? I'll take inspiration from one of my favorite Spider-Man identity revels.

Let's imagine this; The city, Gotham or Metropolis or just an unlucky piece of land that had a really bad day. Hal saw the building collapse first, coming down on them like an avalanche of death.

Hal isn't very good at brain work; He's not like Flash, who can map out an entire route in his mind in a blink, calculating escape routes, and distances, and lengths, and how fast he can run without injuring anyone.

He's not strategic like Wonder Woman, or pragmatic like Batman, or sensible like Superman. He's not the brainpower; But he's pretty damn good at acting like he's okay.

And withstanding that building because Superman got Injured, well.

He can do so with sweat raining down his temple and pain screaming in his system and a smile on his lips, "This is a really good arm work out, guys,"

" Hang in there, Lantern,"

He hears that you're doing great, Hal just well under his hero moniker from Barry. It's a good power up, if nothing else.

Wonder Woman rubs his shoulders before attending to the injured, helping them dig a way out before the oxygen dries out.

Another thing he's not good at is comforting people; He's lost to crying kids. Especially crying kids whose parents are paste under rubble and hubris.

His back is arching, his fire's going out. All he knows is that those little sniffles and whimpers in the hissing silence hurts worse.

The only person he can think would be worse than him at it is Batman; Stone masked, more shadow than person, a labyrinth of a man.

But Hal isn't paid to think for a reason, because Batman kneels by that kid, and places a fatherly hold on his shoulders, just like Hal's father used to do when he bruised his knees climbing trees.

He doesn't say anything, because there's nothing to say. Words aren't medicine, after all. He's just waiting, it seems like, until the kid speaks first, " My daddy's dead."

"...Yes. I'm sorry."

"But, -- but you were here. You're the justice league! No one dies when you're around! You're supposed to save everybody! So why-- why not him?!"

The weight gets heavier.

" Your father asked us to take care of you first. He protected you."

" You should've left me, then! What am I going to do now? I'm just, -- I'm just...A human."

" So am I."

" No, you're Batman. That's, -- That's not the same. You don't understand. "

Hal's vision is blurry and pained, bordering dangerously close to the deep dark void of unconsciousness, -- but he can't, he can't, God damn it Hal, be useful for once in your entire life, -- but he makes out a shadow moving.

He makes out the shape of Bruce's cowl, an armor, a secret, a mystery with no epilogue. Then he sees pale. Two dots of blue, sparkling from dark grey smudge.

When his vision sharpens, so does the tired face of Bruce Wayne.

"...Oh, holy shit."

" I do, " his voice changes, too, thought that may be just Hal's pumping eardrums playing tricks on him. He goes from grainy and rough to rain soft and porcelain. " I do know. Our pain isn't the same. But the way we can get through it, is. Together."

The kid falls in his arms. For just a moment, it seems like death won when the ring powers out.

"Shazam!"

" Hey guys," Shazam's pretty wheezy for a tank made of beef and godly hands, " Sorry for the hold up. Got stuck in traffic."

They make it out. They use the picture of Wonder Woman carrying him out on her back, and Green Arrow shoves it in his face at the first opportunity.

He doesn't expect them to stick around in the hospital. But he does need to know, " Okay, so, hopefully that wasn't a near death fever dream. But are you Bruce Wayne?"

He asks Batman, and Bruce answers, a tone of shyness not unlikely a new kid introducing himself to the class, " ...Yes. and you're Hal Jordan."

"...Was it the biceps that gave it away?"

He doesn't smile, but Hal doesn't expect him to.

" Well, I mean...I'm in for the long run with you guys," Barry offers them a dorky smile before taking off his mask, too. " My name is Barry Allen. And I'm the fastest man alive...Also a bit of a science nut. I need to see your gadgets, by the way. Your Kevlar durability is just amazing, I mean the way you somehow altered the material,--"

" Oh," Apparently, Batman can blush. It's pretty addictive.

One by one, they follow, all easy smiles, all trust.

" My name is Diana. Princess of Themyscaria. I enjoy ice cream and swords."

" My name is Oliver Queen, and if you want to make a gay joke, don't bother. I said them all and I'm getter at it. And you!" He points directly at Bruce with an arrow, " You're in so much trouble for not telling me about this!"

" You didn't tell me either."

" What kind of detective can't explain the white, blonde, rich, good looking guy apart from Green Arrow? Come on."

Hal has a suspicion Bruce already knew, but said nothing out of courtesy.

" Hal Jordan. I almost broke my spine for you, so, you're welcome for That."

Superman strokes the back of his neck and hunches his shoulders, " I'm, uh, Clark Kent. I'm a journalist for the Daily Planet. I, uh...Make a mean apple pie. Which I could really go for right now."

" Hey, you punched Lex Luthor in the face! Good on you, man."

Diana chuckles, " You'll have to make your famous apple pie for us some time."

" Sure. I like eating with friends."

Hal and Oliver are definetly discussing that blush on Bruce later.

They all turn to Shazam, who's been listening, quiet for once, before he blows a laugh, "Uh, yeah, pass. You guys are nice and all, but I'm more than fine with this. Just me. Good old Shazam."

Crack.

" Is that...Is that a fucking 10 year old?!"

" I'm eleven!"

" What the FUCK,--"

" Don't curse in front of the 9 year old!"

" Again, I am eleven!"

" Who let the 8 year old in!?"

" Wow. Adults really don't listen, huh."

Bruce quite literally shakes on one place, " Are, um, are your parents deceased by chance?" He sounds hopeful about it, too.

" So. A handsome pilot. The fastest dork alive. A badass princess. A good guy who punches hard. A bow and arrow. A weirdo. And a 5 year old. We're quite the group, huh?"

" Again. I'm 11."

" Until you don't bring me some pizza and a bear, you're nothing."

[watcheraurora]

u did that reblog abt talking abt ur fics so now ur subjected to me

Tango is so fucking cool in all of your goddamn fanfictions. like every time everything he does is so genuis coded which means your a genuis. genuis in fiction. And i fcuking love how fucking comic codded this is. like cartoonish i love it and i love that you play in that willingly.

and wdym TANGO FROZE THE CUFFS TO GET OUT ughhh i hate that man he should've died in the finale (i dont mean that) and oh my god him coming back as deepfrost ughhh

I love empires studio and Jimmy beign a backround artist and seeing colors in people. colors are so beautiful and soft and that's just so him ya know,,,, I can imagine Tango spent DAYS analysing his work sometimes. He'd go super brained and be like "this color is because of... joel being an asshole!" and Jimmy would be like "it's actually because of martyn..." and tango would be like ughghghghhg

also that clip about tango doing the 288 math in zed's episode. totally thought about your tango then. i was like "does he really have 160 IQ?????" lmfao. i fucking forever love ice walls

you know me and my dang love for healing light and my dang impatience for part two. Im so fucking excted (this goes out to inferna too)

Firewalls. is it evil of me to hope that tango burns Jimmy's wings. even a little bit. just a little bit. for the shits and giggles.

We need more of grian lore i cannot stress this enough grian is like that badass character in a cartoon (maybe bcz he is but oh well)

Foundation is <3 angel is sososo pretty (i have never seen her in my life) and im so excited for the LOREE i keep imaging her and scar in a bus in the middle of the night going to grian's since thazt chapter dropped and UGH.

I'm fine with that XD I love talking about my fics XD

This got long so it's under the cut

Thank you! I try to lean into the cartoonish vibes as much as I can! It helps keep things a little lighter and, to me personally, more fun. I'm really tired of "gritty, grimdark" superhero stories that have come about in recent decades don't get me started on what they've done to Batman and even Superman (sob) so I try to make mine capture the whimsy and fun of "if I had powers, I'd use them to help" as much as I can

As for Tango's genius, I do really struggle with it, but thank you, I appreciate the compliment

Yeah, Tango freezing the cuffs to get out was, I'll admit, a little Elsa-from-Frozen but I didn't even think about Frozen when I was writing it XD I was just thinking "Oh some metal gets really brittle when it gets cold and Tango is cold and he can't freeze" so I did the same thing XD

I don't know why I made Jimmy a background artist, tbh. It just kinda suited him in my head. Not the center of attention but still an appreciated part of the process without which nothing would be as good and immersive. And I liked that for how Jimmy and Sheriff are in this universe. (And, yeah, Tango doesn't always understand what Jimmy's color analysis choices are but he enjoys it nonetheless)

Honestly I think ccTango is a lot more intelligent than he gives himself credit for and I'm perfectly content to perpetuate that in the fics I write. Because, yeah, holy cow that's actually a sheep, Tango /ref that math was fast. Like I can do long multiplication in my head too but not that fast

@infernafiresword Passing along the love for Healing Light! We're working on Part 2 we promise. I just kinda got infected by Perfection/Saint and took a few weeks off every other project to get it finished and written but once it's done (and it's close) I will be going back to Healing Light 2 and Burn Out 2

Oh part 2 of Walls of Fire will have lots of shenanigans, but I can't tell you what happens to Jimmy's wings because spoilers

Oh Grian Lore? Okay. Here's a fun fact about Ice Walls!Grian: there is one (1) very specific reason Grian decided to try having friends again after being mostly alone for thousands of years when a 14-year-old Jimmy declared that they would be friends. I might be toying with revealing it in Walls of Fire 2 though so I'm not going to say what that very specific reason was just yet (but if I don't include it for whatever reason, come yell at me and I'll tell you then lol). It had something to do with Jimmy and his personality, and that's all I'll say

I have also never seen Angel in my life but she's pretty in my head too 😊 It's very dear to me when people enjoy and like Angel - she's my sweetie

[long-life-to-bsd]

It's too hot!

Pairings: kunikida, ranpo, dazai, fyodor × female reader

Warnings: nothing particular, maybe a bit suggestive

Summary: how is life with your boyfriend when it's too hot to breathe outside

I'm definitely not writing this because I'm dead for how hot it is where I live.

KUNIKIDA

I don't think he suffers that much and he if does he doesn’t complain

Will not wear something different just because outside is hot enough to boil water

Buy he's not silly and he will take care of himself and his girlfriend

He will make sure you are hydrated and that you are wearing sunscreen if you go outside

Will warn you about your outfit: black may suit you buy it's not a good idea

Talking about clothes: he thinks you look amazing in a sundress (very very obsessed with your silhouette)

Hat is mandatory if you go out

So yea, he is going to be very serious about you safety outside, very serious. He may even act like the teacher he is and scold you if do not take you health seriously.

He will put a lot of effort in convincing you to go to a park to spend there the afternoon: guess what? It's actually not that bad

Also at home he's very caring: would prepare something fresh, suggest a shower, cutting fresh fruit to eat as a snack...

RANPO

He is already super lazy so I think that summer weather kills him

Literally, would even think about letting those criminals free just for the weather

Super sleepy and sweaty (sorry)

But he will try to cook something on the street to see if those videos online are true

If you are looking for him you know he is going to be somewhere with AC

You are the one taking care of him

Ice-cream, a lot of Ice-cream.

Pretty disappointed that all his chocolate melted

Also disappointed that his favourite outfit is super unpractical

Public pools are a must. You will spend hours there: he may even consider working there (defeating criminals and seeing you in a bikini? Sounds good to him)

DAZAI

Wouldn't even noticed that the world is on fire

You can beg him to take of his coat but he will never listen to you

Obviously he doesn't care but his health so he would almost faint every time he goes out

If he sees you suffering he will suggest the only reasonable thing in this world

To take off your clothes 😏😏 and to take a cold shower together

He will literally ask you to take of your clothes multiple times a day

Big fan of summer outfits: we all know why 🙄

You both look out for each others. He doesn't care about himself at all, but he doesn't like seeing you like that.

Would take you to places with AC to spend the afternoon: the mall will become your date spot

You two would always have Ice-cream at home, but may prefer to drink something on the rocks (which is not brilliant guys)

FYODOR

If he could he would turn off the sun: not for you but for himself

This little Russian man is not used to hot weather

Very sweet: he looks like a wet rat, not scary at all. He may try to look scary and powerful buy he's out of breath (which considering how unhealthy he already is, it's not a surprise)

Lost all his intellectual abilities, 0 brain cells working: and he would hate that so much.

Will find every possible excuse for that, he may even say that his plan is acting dumb (and is also your plan to be that sweaty, Fyodor?)

That why he would go underground or contribute to the global warming putting AC everywhere he goes

And you are going with him. Not that he doesn’t like seeing you suffering, but you are not pretty all sweaty

He will decide how you dress (obv) and he's going to find out he's a big fan of hot weather

He will make sure that you always have something cold to drink though

But will not allow you to drink it to fast, it's dangerous (be careful)

Or he will make sure you have some refreshing snacks, anything you like

While he doesn’t care particularly about his health he will make sure his pet beautiful girlfriend is doing good and following the safety guidelines: be ready to be treated like a five years old

If there is no AC he will hire someone to be a living fan. May even look in the entire world just to find the right ability user.

If no one is available and he's getting all sweaty, I'm sorry, but I feel like it's your job

[honest-moth-of-silver-grove]

💞 How They Cuddle: BG3 Companions 💞

A/N: It’s that time of year when it gets fucking cold outside. I don’t like it. So have this (Apologies because I’m writing this through severe brain fog & migraine right now.) 

(˶ ˘ ³˘)ˆᵕ ˆ˶)

Astarion: 

Entangled. Touchy. Astarion’s like a cat in that he’ll always end up seeking you out for heat. He sort of wraps his lithe frame around you, that slender body of his locking yours into place. It’s unintentional, and he certainly doesn’t fall asleep that way. But as the night goes on, and the wind grows loud, he searches for the comfort of your senses- your breath, your heartbeat, and of course, the warmth of your skin. 

Gale: 

Serene. Paired. Gale isn’t known for snuggling close unless you’re counting all the nights Tera’s spent curled up asleep on his lap. He tosses and turns quite a bit in the night, and has the worst sleeping habits known to man. By the time he comes to bed, you’re already fast asleep. He’ll clamor in next to you, feeling the tension leave his body as his rests next to yours. Just being close to you, even in sleep, sets something right in his soul. 

Wyll:

Protected. Warm. Wyll isn’t a heavy sleeper and is prone to waking frequently. At first, every little noise you make, every gasp or shift in your position leaves him awake, frozen in silence, vigilantly waiting for you to wake. It takes him some time to calm his body down, and for his mind to adjust to the sporadic tranquility of sleeping next to the one you love. Once he’s accustomed to your little quirks, he finds he gets the best sleep with you close, one arm wrapped around you for protection. 

Karlach: 

Toasty. Enclosed. Karlach runs hot, there’s no doubt about it. So she doesn’t need tons of blankets or fire to stay warm, whereas you usually do. But not anymore. Now, she acts as your blanket. It does take a bit of practice, on how to balance the closeness of your skin, the pillows, and the bedroll … It’s a bit of a puzzle, but once you get locked in right, it’s like sleeping in a heavenly warm cocoon. 

La’zel:

Distant. Safe. La’zel is NOT a cuddler by any means, nor are Githyanki known for being particularly deep sleepers. However, because she loves you, she tolerates your need for proximity during rest. She permits you to curl up into her side as she lays rigidly next to you. Her ears are always listening for a noise in the distance. But she also comes to enjoy listening to your steady breaths as you sleep, lulling her into an atmosphere of security. 

Shadowheart: 

Sweet. Dear. Shadowheart may project an edgy vibe, but she’s a deeply caring person. She craves your affection and will seek it out, especially in sleep. She prefers to be the little spoon but will take turns being the big spoon if you insist. Always asks you to help braid her hair as she drifts off to sleep. The gentle touches and soft rustling remind her of the tender future she dreams of sharing with you. 

Halsin: 

Surrounded. Smooshed. Halsin is big. He’s wide and tall and enjoys using his build to his advantage when it comes to holding you. He loves wrapping his body around you, his arms and legs holding you tight against his chest, providing a soothing compression. Or, if you prefer, use his chest as your pillow. His broad hairy chest tickles your nose as you nuzzle into him. His large hands rest securely on your back and waist ensuring you won’t slide off. 

Minthara: 

Conservative. Guarded. Minthara is used to being on careful watch for her many enemies. The Underdark is not a forgiving place. She is not used to being so vulnerable as to willingly sleep next to someone, but you are the exception. But old habits die hard. She often sits up, next to your sleeping form. She’ll study your features lovingly in the moonlight, as she watches for any creatures who dare disturb your rest. They’ll never lay a hand on you. She’ll ensure no one disturbs your slumber. 

💞💞💞

If you enjoy my work, please Like & especially, Reblog! 

[vickyvicarious]

Another thing I didn't mention the other week that kills me about 'The Plan That Failed' is the way Griffin's name is used. This is following up on a pattern I noticed a little bit ago, but... in a really sad way.

So, Kemp never calls Griffin by name. When they first met, he repeated the name back in confusion, but never actually acknowledged aloud that the person he is talking to is the Griffin he vaguely remembers. Or at least, while he does so by implication, he doesn't do so by name:

“Griffin,” answered the Voice. A younger student than you were, almost an albino, six feet high, and broad, with a pink and white face and red eyes, who won the medal for chemistry.” “I am confused,” said Kemp. “My brain is rioting. What has this to do with Griffin?” “I am Griffin.” Kemp thought. “It’s horrible,” he said. “But what devilry must happen to make a man invisible?”

Kemp goes right to the concept of 'a man becoming invisible' rather than lingering in any way on 'so you are Griffin'. And in the moment, that sort of makes sense. Apparently he barely remembers Griffin from school (if at all), and so there's no particular shock of recognition for him. It's more shock at what's going on. But then after that, a distinct pattern begins to emerge, where Kemp only calls him by name when he's being vulnerable/civilized. When he is afraid of Griffin's violence, or thinking of him as something monstrous, he calls him by some kind of title, usually 'The Invisible Man'. And it's rare for Griffin to get his name used at all.

But even all of that was still just in the narration. Of course, the way this book is written as a sort of adaptation of various peoples' stories of what they remember may mean none of the dialogue has to be taken as exact. But still, even in that case it's notable that not once does Kemp call Griffin by any sort of name out loud. That whole pattern I've been discussing is only in his narration. At no point in any of their dialogue does he call him Invisible Man, but he also never calls him Griffin. The only way he addresses him directly, ever is "you." In contrast, Griffin says "Kemp" to him quite often.

So there's a distinct imbalance there too. Griffin is confiding his past, giving vent to his emotions, hoping for understanding and using Kemp's name often as an interjection which affirms a connection between the two of them. Meanwhile Kemp is walking a fine line verbally between outright either acknowledging Griffin's humanity (by using his name) or totally denying it (by directly addressing him with a title). This of course reflects his thoughts and also his actions, as he's listening to Griffin's story but in large part only to buy time so he can be caught.

But then... that changes.

Kemp’s hand went to his moustache. Was that a movement downstairs? “And it is killing we must do, Kemp.” “It is killing we must do,” repeated Kemp. “I’m listening to your plan, Griffin, but I’m not agreeing, mind. Why killing?” [...] “Humph!” said Kemp, no longer listening to Griffin but to the sound of his front door opening and closing. “It seems to me, Griffin,” he said, to cover his wandering attention, “that your confederate would be in a difficult position.” “No one would know he was a confederate,” said the Invisible Man, eagerly. And then suddenly, “Hush! What’s that downstairs?” “Nothing,” said Kemp, and suddenly began to speak loud and fast. “I don’t agree to this, Griffin,” he said. “Understand me, I don’t agree to this. Why dream of playing a game against the race? How can you hope to gain happiness? Don’t be a lone wolf. Publish your results; take the world—take the nation at least—into your confidence. Think what you might do with a million helpers—”

Suddenly we get Kemp calling Griffin by his name, out loud, several times in rapid-fire. At first, I noticed this particularly because the first time he does so is right after Griffin proclaims that they will need to kill people. Also, every single time he says it, it's paired with his own doubts/refusal to agree to this plan. But while that is all true, it's not the most significant detail here. More salient, I think, is the way that every use of Griffin's name is immediately preceded by mention of people arriving to capture him.

When Kemp finally calls Griffin by name, it's done in a clear attempt to distract him. The only time he grants him the courtesy of reaching out to him as a fellow human in this way is a lie. He's trying to use that connection in order to trick Griffin. He's essentially treating Griffin's name (which after the pattern in narration seems so clearly to me to be essentially shorthand for his humanity) as a tool to arrest him.

Honestly, this entire situation is pretty messed up all around. It's hard to say that either Marvel or Kemp ever really 'betray' Griffin, because they were never given even footing with him in the first place. They certainly didn't choose to help him, they both felt coerced. And yet, this moment... really does feel like a betrayal. It feels cruel, somehow adds insult to injury.

Kemp has been teetering between considering/treating Griffin as a fellow human, or the Invisible Man a monster. Certainly, the scales have been tipping steadily towards the latter, but it's not until this moment that everything comes crashing down. And it feels like such a bitter extra sting of irony that when it does happen, when the moment comes, he calls him by name.

But he's committed to the opposite course.

[amethyst-ghoul-backup]

Hello ! How are you ? 🖤 Do you think you could write headcanons for the Ghouls going to karaoke (pleaaaase) ? I just had this thought of them absolutely having a blast while singing Bohemian Rhapsody (don’t ask me why 💀😭)

omg your brain is *chef’s kiss* i love this idea!!

also i got a little carried away so i do apologize for that y’all 😭😭

- The ghouls are allowed one sort of fun outing to town per week

- Copia is required to chaperone but he’ll let them pick what they want to do and where they want to go, he just goes along to supervise

- To keep everything fair, the ghouls get to write down one idea each for what they want to do, they put the ideas in a hat, and draw one each week until they’ve done everyone’s idea

- On Friday night the pack gathers around the hat and Cirrus pulls a slip with the words “Karaoke bar” on it

- So karaoke it is

- On Saturday night all 8 of them and Copia pile into one of the ministry’s van and off they go

- They enter a mostly empty little karaoke bar and get a private room for singing

- They also order a bunch of drinks

- Swiss insists on going first and gives a very unique rendition of No Hands

- Dew and Sunshine cheer him on of course

- Cirrus and Aether absolutely kill their choice of Ain’t No Mountain High Enough

- The others can’t help but give Mountain an amused glance every time his name comes up in the song

- He is very much not amused

- Cumulus goes next and sings Halo by Beyoncé so beautifully that Copia rethinks her being an Air Ghoul because she HAS to be part siren

- “Show off” Dew jokingly mutters when she’s done but Rain slaps him on the arm anyway

- Sunshine decides she wants to sing I Won’t Say I’m In Love from the Hercules soundtrack and gets Swiss and Aether to be the muses

- They do the little dances and everything

- Like i’m talking full on movie accurate choreography

- Rain and Mountain seem sort of reluctant at first but once they realize Disney songs are an option they are all for it

- They do Under The Sea from The Little Mermaid, Hakuna Matata from The Lion King, I’ll Make A Man Outta You from Mulan, and more

- Aether cuts them off after they sing The Bare Necessities for the second time

- After Dew has one too many margaritas (he drank 6) he BODIES Rap God by Eminem and Tap In by Saweetie

- When he starts singing CPR by Cupcakke Copia knows it’s time to go

- “But youuu haven’t sung anything yet Cardi!” Sunshine drunkenly points out from the couch where she’s leaning all of her body weight on a fast asleep Cirrus

- All the ghouls turn to Copia with nods of agreement

- “I— eh, eh-heh. That is true. I suppose one more song wouldn’t hurt.” Copia agrees

- He wanted to do Piano Man by Billy Joel but that wasn’t an option

- So he goes with Bohemian Rhapsody

- And boy was that a choice

- As soon as the ghouls hear the intro they get so hyped up

- Copia sings the intro and verse 1 and 2 by himself

- Dew and Aether vocalize the guitar solo but it’s really off pitch

- The ghouls join in verse 3 and they all do the high pitched voice

- They do the little call and response with Copia

- Sunshine, Rain, and Cumulus song the “Let me go” part and the other five ghouls sing the “We will not let you go” part

- When it’s all over they end up super giggly and in high spirits

- Then they got kicked out because Dew got too excited and lit a couch on fire

- But it was an overall 10/10 experience

If you read all of this to the end, you’re a real one! Also does anyone know of that tiktok with that group of boys wearing like navy blue bedsheets as togas and lip syncing to I Won’t Say I’m In Love cause that’s exactly what I imagine Swiss and Aether doing while Sunshine sings. Someone please know what I’m talking about 😭😭

[valentine-cafe]

Hii

I'm in a very struggling situation so is it okay if you give me fun facts about Zhao Yizé 9948e? Doesn't matter what it is. Just no angst and nsfw fun facts.

He is my comfort character and I need to read something about him to ease my stress. You can take your time on it tho!

— 🎨

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ᥫ᭡ oh darling we really are sorry and we hope things ease up for you :(( sending you lots of love! we composed this real quick for you

𖹭. he plays the guqin! he's very good at it too

𖹭. can recreate animal sounds very very accurately

𖹭. he treats mister squiggles like a genuine pet snake when in fact squiggles is his familiar —

𖹭. he can speak fluent japanese!

𖹭. his english given name is mathew ( he hates it XHVKBK )

𖹭. on the topic of languages, he speaks more english than he does chinese as he's not around the zhào estate too often and rather lives in the society of shades

𖹭. he is associated with dull shades of blue

𖹭. one of our voice references for him is from this audio

𖹭. as a child, he loved hiding around the ponds of the estate garden, swimming among the lotus flowers and sometimes laying on the big lotus leaves. he also had a small water fan he’d use to splash his older brothers with. they never knew it was him that did it.

𖹭. when yizé first got mr. squiggles, the first thing the both of them did was have a race in the training grounds. he won, and made squiggles get him ice cream as a reward.

𖹭. in yizé’s late teens, he had developed an odd habit of sleeping in the tree branches because he’d sit in the garden at ungodly hours to do homework for school. it became a comfort to him, and he liked when the birds nestled up to him.

𖹭. yizé helps a lot of the community around the estate and makes sure everyone goes around and are safe. safely getting elderly and the young across the road, making sure cats and dogs don’t run out and get lost and is also one of the people who makes a bunch of food for his neighbours and hands it out to them when he can.

𖹭. at work, yizé really likes the missions where he gets to go to the last sector of the society. because it’s a place surrounded by nature and it just comforts him. he loves the areas of the inner society too! the last one just reminds him of home. and also there’s deer!

𖹭. though he doesn’t read books, he has a special thing for comics. he doesn’t read — but he loves looking at all the art. he’s never been too good at art, but he admires it so heavily. he’s always trying to draw something! even if it comes out a little messy, he still feels proud of what he makes

𖹭. yizé is the only one in his family that manages to get brain freezes whenever he drinks cold drinks or eats something cold too fast, nobody knows why.

𖹭. he really likes dancing on roller-skates and is quite good at it too! he often goes to some of the clubs around the society to dance around with them on. one of the reasons for this is because it reminds him of his best friend lorenzo.

𖹭. he has a special soft spot for reptilians, and adores salamanders specifically. he can’t explain why, he’s just always loved how silly they look.

𖹭. has a bit of a tendency to get lost whenever he’s out, but he always find his way back home ! ( he calls his fire dad or his ceo dad or his mama )

𖹭. his younger sibling and him get along really well, and often enjoy running around the parks close to their home, catching bugs and critters for them. yǔ xī has always been able to relate to his love for all wildlife, and it’s refreshing. they like to sit and study them while eating ramen

𖹭. he likes to visit his older brother xīyang whenever he has time. he knows he is sick often and because of this, he really likes bringing him soup and food. and although they’ve had a rocky past together they also share lots of laughs when they get the time. last time they laughed over squiggles accidentally dipping his tail in yizé’s soul when he went to hug xīyang

𖹭. really likes to bully his boss/dad rasui, calling him an old man and sometimes not listening to his orders at work because he likes to prove there are different ways to do things. and he can see even when rasui scolds him, there is pride for his adaptability. ꒱

[machiroads]

anirevo 2024 con report belooooooow

THURSDAY NIGHT, AUGUST 8TH

Left my office at 4:30. Took the bus to the ferry straight from work except the GODDAMN BUS DIDN'T ACTUALLY STOP TO PICK ME UP so I had to wait for the next one and missed the 6:00 ferry so I didn't get to my hotel in Vancouver until after 10pm oof

The slow bus was very nice once i got over being mad about the fast bus leaving me on read by way of listening to linkin park. It goes through some very quaint rural areas.

I purchased a can of wine on the ferry which was like $15 for 8.5oz. I don't know how I feel about this but I do feel like I got ripped off because the wine was only ok

I edited and posted ch2 of WTBL&W entirely on my phone which may or may not have been a mistake. Getting the html formatting right wasn't too bad, but editing the splash image for twitter and bsky on photopea was uhhhhhhhhh a mistake. FAFO

FRIDAY AUGUST 9TH

My hotel had one of those fancy toto washlets so you bet your ass my butt was squeaky clean all weekend

My hotel also had a room service menu that had a bowl of oatmeal for $14 as an offering. Which. No.

I got an actual breakfast at a tiny hole in the wall crepe place staffed by a single old man, then trundled over to the con to pick up my badge at like 10ish. I was in line behind a cute couple in horimiya cosplay

The first panel I actually wanted to see wasn't until like 12 so I sat on the seawalk, finished my coffee, watched floatplanes, and replied to AO3 comments. 11/10 banger morning.

I watched an improv comedy D&D skit, which was fun, then traipsed down to the exhibition hall to do Some Shopping

MERCH REPORT: nobody really had heroaca stuff? Or if they did it was just the main kids. Still lots of people with HQ stuff, which I'm encouraged to see years after its ending. I'm happy with the pin selection this year tho, I picked up some nice stuff (but I think i will need to find additional capacity on my button collection because it's p much full oops)

BONUS COSPLAY REPORT: There also weren't really any heroaca cosplayers either, i saw like 1 shinsou, a couple bkgs, and a handful of people in nonspecific UA gym uniforms. Very strange. I did, however, see like 3 Nanamis within the span of 2 minutes on Saturday. (i don't even go here re jjk but he was the basic white boy cosplay of the year)

I spent like 2 hours in the exhibition hall and my brain hurt so I got poke for lunch, went back to the hotel to eat it, then took a nap

I went back for another couple panels on Friday night (a panel with vancouver VA graham hamilton, and another improv advice panel)

SATURDAY AUGUST 10TH

I went bra shopping on saturday morning because i accidentally overstuffed my backpack last week and zipped my bra into the zipper and tore the liner whilst trying to extract it. This is not relevant to the con, however it was an important part of my weekend

There wasn't anything I wanted to see at the con in the morning so I didn't get there until like 2:00 so I could line up for the cosplay contest. I'd never been to one before, and I don't really cosplay mself, but I've recently been watching some sarah spaceman videos, so I thought it would be fun to go see a contest for the first time.

On the schedule the contest is supposed to start at 2:30. There's like 6 down-and-backs of queueing space for people waiting to get in. When I got there around 2ish there were people milling about saying they'd cut the line. I loitered a bit longer until some admin looking folk went around telling people to disperse because queueing outside of the taped off area was a "fire hazard", and to come back at 3:00 when the event started. At this point, the line of people illicitly queued for this event wrapped probably halfway around the building, and the VCC is a Large Building.

I assume the delayed start time was probably due to pre-judging going long (thank u sarah spaceman for this education i now know how cosplay contests work), so i wasn't too fussy about that, but the fire hazard thing was a little silly to me because I'd been in the exhibition hall already which to me seemed like waaaaaay more of a fire hazard than a generally orderly line. Regardless. I bummed around on the seawalk for a bit and then went back just before 3 and managed to snag a seat. The contest itself ended up being really fun, and I'm glad i stuck around for it.

I went to another 3 panels on Saturday night, all 3 of which had similar queue capacity issues, and all 3 of which started late. Again, when the panels themselves started, they were all really fun, but logistically it seemed like they had some challenges. It does feel a bit silly to complain about though when I have literally nothing else to do that weekend tho haha

I attended the Philosophy of Science in FMA and Dr Stone (TIL epistemology is a word), a panel about adaptations that are superior to the source material, and...............yaoi bedtime stories. Which was a hoot.

SUNDAY AUGUST 11TH

Kind of a chill morning. Got some goodies at a bakery for breakfast / lunch / to bring home, checked out of the hotel, then trundled over to the con.

I went to a panel that was just a bunch of tables set up with colouring sheets and books and stuff and that was super what I needed. I coloured the eeveelutions from memory (and only forgot half of their colour schemes), and then there was a little time left so I also coloured in a cardcaptor sakura.

I thought about attending cosplay life drawing afterwards but ended up just heading home after colouring since I was kind of Done after a full weekend. There was another improv dragon ball tribute scheduled, but not until like 6:30pm and if I stuck around for that I wouldn't have gotten home today lol

No bus mishaps on the way home fortunately

ANYWAYS that's all folks thanks for reading about my dramatization of what was actually a pretty chill weekend.