#burning souffles

[musings-ofthe-unamused]

At Your Service - Zenless Zone Zero

Pairing: Lycaon x Reader

Word Count: ~1k

Warnings: None

A/N: I love Lycaon so much and this is probably the tamest thing I have of him

Your hands were sweaty. You could feel your stomach rolling with anxiety, your knees weak. You were going to die. All alone, with no one to help you. And it was all your fault. It wasn't like you wanted this to happen. You just wanted to help. Now you were going to suffer for it. Your heart was pounding. 

"What did you do?"

A screech left your lips. You turned around to see Lycaon staring at the kitchen with an incredulous expression. You held your arms out, trying to block the view. He pushed past you, gently lowering your arms. The kitchen was… a mess. FLour coated the countertops. Batter had been flung across the cabinet doors and there was something burning. You could feel your cheeks heat up in embarrassment. This was truly the worst thing that could ever happen.

You cleared your throat as you sheepishly smiled. "I-I tried making… those cute souffle pancakes. The ones we got at the cafe that one time?"

"Why?" He asked, his ear twitching as he surveyed the damage. "You don't need to cook at all, Master. It's why I am here."

"Well, that's…"

You couldn't tell him the truth. You wanted to treat him, to thank him for all he's done. It wasn't easy to care for you. After your father had died only a couple years prior, he had left Lycaon to care for you. You weren't kind about it. It was a bitter feeling, getting left alone with someone you barely interacted with. Lashing out, insults, trying to run away… you had caused him a lot of trouble and most likely a lot of grief.

After a particularly bad breakdown, he had comforted you. In that moment, you realized how lucky you were to have him. An insurmountable amount of guilt had filled you. You spent the past two years or so trying to make up for it. You were kind, attentive, and tried not to cause trouble. But now, you were afraid you did more harm than good. Lycaon slowly walked around the kitchen. He came to the stove. The burner was still on. He turned it off.

"Lycaon…"

"Do not speak."

A whimper left your lips. "But, I-"

"I said do not speak. Master, this is… this is ridiculous. I work hard to keep this estate clean! If you wanted to make something, you should have asked me for help. Look at this mess."

His stern tone caused you to curl up in yourself. A meek apology left your lips. "I'm sorry."

He sighed, his tail drooping. "It's fine, Master. Just go clean up. You're covered in flour."

"I want to help clean." You protested, stepping closer.

"No." He turned to you and patted your head. "It's best to let me do it. I'll be thorough."

His hand moved to your shoulder and he turned you around, pushing you out of the kitchen. You glanced back at him to see him rolling up his sleeves, ready to get to work. Although his expression had been scolding before, there was an almost imperceptible smile on his face. Your face flushed as you hurried to your room to clean up.

 It was more than wanting to assuage your guilt. You had fallen in love with Von Lycaon. Who wouldn't fall in love with someone like that? He was everything you could wish for in a partner. And if you couldn't truly show your love for him, you wanted to do it in other ways. Having him by your side was enough. But the way he had scowled, his stern tone…

"Ah… I love him so much." You murmured to yourself.

After washing up, you made your way back to the kitchen. It was sparkling clean, like you had never set foot in it. Lycaon had an apron covering his suit. His eyebrows were furrowed as he read a piece of paper on the counter. His tail swayed languidly behind him. Your eyes focused on his muscles. You bit your lip.

"I'm all clean."

Lycaon's gaze turned to you. "Oh. Good." His tail started to wag and his ears flicked happily.

You walked over to him, peeking out behind his arm. Your eyes squinted as you tried to read the paper. "Are you making something?"

"Souffle pancakes."

"Lycaon…" You sighed and gently tugged on your sleeve. "I really am sorry. I wanted to do something good for you. I wanted to give you a gift, make you happy."

Lycaon turned to face you fully. His hands reached out and he cupped your face. Immediately, you felt a blush crawling up your neck and spreading over you. He stared down at you so intently. As if you were the only one who mattered. You swallowed thickly. His ears were pressed flat against his head. 

"You already make me happy, Master. Just by being by your side, I am the happiest I could be. Serving you, seeing you smile, seeing you safe. It is my ultimate duty to make sure you're living your best life."

You frowned. "Can you say my name? Please?"

His eyebrows furrowed. "Master, that is-"

"Please." You whispered, your voice almost desperate.

He said your name softly. As if it were a gentle thing, something so fragile, it could break at a moment's notice. Your body practically melted. You wanted him. You needed him. He was the love of your life, the only one you wanted to be near. As your heart pounded in your chest, you brought him down to you, grabbing the straps of the apron. Your lips pressed against his.

You could feel his body stiffen. His hands squeezed your cheeks in surprise. But you didn't back down. Your arms wrapped around his neck. Lycaon finally relaxed, his touch becoming softer. He pulled back and kissed your forehead and then your nose. You scrunched your face and looked up at him.

"Don't you know you're not supposed to kiss your butler?" He scolded gently.

You giggled and shrugged. "I can't help it. You're just so easy to love."

"Master…"

"No. I don't want to be your master anymore." You said softly. "I officially relieve you of your duties."

"Are you firing me?"

"I am. But I do have a new position opening up."

He quirked an eyebrow, his hands now resting on his hips. "Oh? And what's that?"

"Have you ever heard of a househusband?"

[luna-azzurra]

When A Character Is trying to cook but keeps messing up they…

"Did I just put salt instead of sugar? Oops."

"Why is the smoke detector going off again?"

"I swear, this recipe said 'easy'."

"Who knew boiling water could be this complicated?"

"How did I burn the salad? Is that even possible?"

"Uh-oh, was that supposed to be a cup or a tablespoon?"

"The kitchen looks like a war zone."

"I think I just invented a new form of charcoal."

"Was that noise supposed to come from the blender?"

"Why is the dough stuck to the ceiling?"

"I followed the instructions exactly... almost."

"Note to self: never attempt a souffle again."

[balsee]

(For @starlightbelle, I tried my best with this, and while I'm not totally satisfied with it, I hope you enjoy it! 💗)

Never Too Much; you spend a late night in the kitchen with Sanji.

When you walk into the kitchen in the middle of the night, the first thing you’re greeted with is Sanji’s boyish, brilliant smile. 

“You’re here!”

“I said I would be,” you reply softly, despite the fact that nobody is awake. It’s just the two of you under a waxy moon and a million stars. “You know, you don’t have to cook something every time we meet up like this. I’d be fine with just a glass of water or some tea.” 

“I know,” Sanji says, a tray balanced in one hand as he brings it to the table. “But I can’t help myself, a beautiful lady like yourself deserves a good late night snack.” he places the tray down and hurries to pull out your seat despite your protests. You couldn’t help the way your heart began to thrum every time Sanji rushed to accommodate or dote on you, and since he was always going out of his way to cater to your every need, you were in a constant state of near cardiac arrest. Without skipping a beat, Sanji placed a dessert in front of you, a chocolate souffle topped with whipped cream, and a china cup of fragrant smelling tea. 

Of all the things in the world he could’ve made, he makes you a souffle. A souffle. Granted, it wasn’t a complicated dessert by any means for a chef of his skill, but still. You felt a little undeserving of something like this, but Sanji is looking at you so expectantly that you don’t have the heart to comment. 

Plus, it smelled amazing. 

“Thank you,” you smile at him, and you can actually see his face physically morph into something lovestricken. He’s practically glowing. 

“Of course, dearest, of course.” he replies, his voice soft and low; intimate in a way you’ve never heard before. It’s as if a thousand flowers have suddenly taken bloom inside your stomach, and you long to hear him sound like that again. But any attempt to prolong the conversation is stuck inside your throat, you don’t know what else to say. Instead, you pick up your spoon and dig in, hoping that he doesn’t notice the brilliant heat that’s creeping up your neck. 

The souffle is rich and warm, and you hum in delight. 

“Good?” Sanji asks, using his spoon to cut into his own dessert. 

“Wonderful.” you reply sincerely, and he laughs. “Like you didn’t know!” 

“Ah, well, compliments always mean something more coming from you.” 

You huff, fighting down a blush, and continue to eat without a word. A few moments of peaceful silence goes by between the two of you, and you relish the opportunity to just sit and exist with Sanji; with nothing but the ticking of the kitchen clock to interrupt you two. Your little late night get-togethers with Sanji happened exactly one week prior, when he caught you rifling through the cabinets for some chocolate covered pretzels you kept carefully hidden behind an assortment of jars and cans. He had flung the door open, thinking it was Luffy trying to sneak food from the fridge like usual, causing you to jump nearly a foot in the air. He apologized for scaring you, and to make up for it, had diced up some fruit and suggested you eat together (the pretzels, unfortunately, were nowhere to be found). And that's how it started. 

Each night brought a different dessert. A different story, and a new revelation that allowed you to see different facets of Sanji previously unknown. You found out that he sampled cigarettes from each new island they came across one night over chocolate chip cookies. You also discovered that he still cooks dishes from Alabasta while sharing a slice of leftover carrot cake. The thrill never fully went away, and you ate as slowly as possible, wanting to savor every moment you could with him.

“I haven’t made souffle since my time on the Baratie.” Sanji remarks, pouring himself a cup of tea.

“Really?”

“Yeah, I was twelve the first time I tried it, and I somehow managed to burn and undercook it. The old man gave me shit for years until I was able to perfect it.” he grins around his cigarette, pausing briefly to flick ash into a nearby ashtray. “He’ll be happy to know that I still use his chocolate souffle recipe, and that it satisfies a pretty lady such as yourself.” 

You can’t fight a good-natured groan. “Sanji…”

He laughs, not unkindly, and you blush all the harder. He knows exactly what he’s doing to you.

“...looking back on it now, she was kind of a snob,” Sanji says. Twenty minutes have gone by. The souffle is gone, and your cups hold the dregs of a now cold tea. Sanji is on his second cigarette, regaling you with a story about his first crush, and he takes one last pull of his cigarette before stubbing it into his ashtray. “But I was fifteen at the time and totally in love. Her father was involved with the Marines, so they’d come for dinner often, and I always insisted on making her any dish she asked for; even if I didn’t have a clue about what I was doing yet. She had this thick black hair in these big curls, and she always wore a white ribbon in her hair and smelled like jasmine. Tulips were her favorite, so I tried to give her one each time she left the restaurant.”

You picture a fifteen year old Sanji, long-legged and awkward but with his same kind smile and you can’t help but coo.

“Aw, Sanji, that’s adorable!”

“Yeah, I guess.” He leans back in his chair. “Patti and the other cooks made fun of me, but they must’ve known that she wasn’t very nice from the beginning, because when she rejected me in public, they got me piss drunk to try and forget about it.”

You can’t stop your mouth from falling open. “Sanji, that’s terrible! They gave you alcohol when you were that young?!”

“Yup, Zeff was furious when he found out, and he spent the next day trying to nurse my hangover, I swear I thought I was going to die. I never felt so shitty.” At your wide-eyed expression, Sanji smiles, a little flimsy. “Trust me, sweetheart, I’ve gone through worse at a much younger age.”

***

When the dishes are cleared, cleaned and put away, Sanji insists on walking you back to your room. You both creep quietly out of the kitchen, and when you’re both standing outside the bedroom you share with Nami and Robin, you gather up the last of your courage to face him. 

“Thank you for tonight,” you say, keeping your voice low. Robin was a light sleeper, and you didn’t want to wake her. “I appreciate you doing this.”

“Of course! I like this time with just the two of us, it’s nice.” A small lantern illuminated the hallway, and there was just enough light to see Sanji run a hand through his hair. “Next time I’ll make cinnamon rolls, or something, or mini cheesecakes! With strawberries and whipped cream…”

“Sanji,” you interrupt him gently, and take a step forward. “I don’t need any special desserts to spend time with you. You don’t have to go to so much trouble, just being around you is more than enough for me.”

Even in the dour lighting, you catch a glimpse of Sanji’s flustered look and you grin triumphantly; satisfied at having been the one to ruffle him for once. He manages to compose himself, however, and takes your hand. 

“Well, in that case…” he trails off and places a kiss on your knuckles, delicate and sweet and holding your gaze the entire time. Your heart jackhammers when he gently turns your hand over and places an open-mouthed kiss on your wrist, directly on your pulse point. His gaze is smoldering, and after tonight, you’re sure you’ll never sleep again. “I can’t promise I’ll stop. I adore cooking for you, dearest, it’s never trouble when it comes to you, but I’ll take what you said into consideration.” he lets go of your hand and suddenly you wish he’d never let go of you. “Goodnight, love.”

Sanji gives you one last fond smile before he retreats to his own room, and you watch as the darkness swallows him up, at last finding your voice when he is no longer present to hear it. 

“Goodnight.”

[darlingpwease]

My lovely wife you giving me ideas and thinking about imagining Yandere and omega Leon how breed bull he looks

hihi souffle~!!! <333 kith kith<33333

king's favourite

♡ unhealthy behaviour, animalistic behaviour, alternative universe, family making, mention of violence + blood, he has not yet lost powers, forced relationship if you squint, reincarnation themes if you squint; transmigrator!reader (or just isekaid), alpha-like beta!reader

♡ breeding / unprotected sex, rough treatment, nipples play (g.), blood play (r.), womb fucking if you squint, cum inflation if you squint, (spicy & messy)

How did they teach you there? "Get into the situation, understand and forgive"? "There is a spark of goodness in everyone"? "You just have to be patient"?

"We have to wait and everything will get better"?

You waited — many times — and even when you found yourself here, in your own body with several modified features; thought "at last I will live well, nothing is scary after death, I can start again," clinging to the chance to survive is not out of desperation at all, but from the fact that you have already seen similar situations before, using your skills and knowledge mixed with the underdevelopment of the surrounding world.

You don't know what happened here, — you don't want to know — but you're sure it makes you feel better.

After all, you, prepared by the modern world and by some incomprehensible effect caused by changes in your body, are ready for anything as long as your blood flows in your body. Undoubtedly, it is unusual for you in this new world, with these 'alphas', 'betas', 'omegas', only some deltas and gammas are missing, and already five letters from the greek alphavite have been collected, but you get used to it.

You're really getting used to it.

You are lucky to be an unremarkable beta, without this strange smelling dynamics, with these incomprehensible exchanges of smells and even stranger features — like a knot??? womb??? bite glands??? — and questionable courtship.

But no one seems to fall in love with betas.

And then you met him.

If you knew in advance that the betas, it turns out, are also quite attractive for some reason, then you would run as fast as you could from him and from his subordinates — but then you really thought that nothing would happen, "the worst thing is death". And it's not that what happened to you, when violet eyes collided with you and shone like billions of stars, was worse than death.

“Finally.”

But when the only thing you can do is agree, knowing perfectly well and seeing that your refusal means nothing if the 'king of Dark Fall' chose you. In the end, you were nothing more than a charming pet that was chosen from thousands of the same, probably even more beautiful and exciting — but for some reason it was on your figure that the purple eyes stopped and froze, with dilated feline pupils, when a strong slender hand grabbed your wrist, not letting you move away, in front of eyes an equally shocked environment, scorching at you rather than at him, asking themselves 'why are you' than 'what does his behavior mean'.

“Leon,” — he whispers hoarsely, squeezing your hands, not trying to penetrate your personal space, but also not letting you move away, glaring with such a burning gaze that your heart is beating loudly in throat from noisy fear and dull excitement caused rather by adrenaline and that strange aura of power around his body that you can't not react. — “My name. Don't forget it. You're mine now — I chose you.”

From his words, head is slightly dizzy, — or is it from a strange smell that surrounds his body, as if shouting to you that you have a handsome strong mate in front of you? — but you can only nod, realizing that resistance will lead to nothing. You have often seen this in fanfiction, you know what to do — and although this is not a dating simulator or anything like that, you are sure that the actions are not too different.

His eyes dig into your every feature, as if trying to get under your skin, while his hands imperiously but gently squeeze yours, intertwining long fingers with yours, restlessly squeeze and unclench.

A handsome and young aristocrat takes a person from the street as a lover? Isn't this the plot of Cinderella?

You must even be 'lucky' — food, bed and a handsome powerful person who seems to be passionate about you and enough free time. Even if you really are nothing more than a pet, doesn't that mean that you only need to perform your role well and manage your limited time wisely?

You must even be lucky — you think thoughtfully when blood drops on your cheeks.

Someone else's blood, of course — you are too precious; a couple of drops that unintentionally reach your skin while any sounds get stuck in throat. Not that your role is anything more special than a simple 'pet' — but even so, the reaction seems... excessive.

“I'll rip out the hands of anyone who does that again.”

It's cold in the hall, unusually cold, while the blood drips down, staining the floor, forcing the servants to step back restlessly, not even trying to wipe something or help.

“Is that clear? I don't like to repeat myself in such things.”

It's not the right time to ask about a walk — and from the looks of the servants, you can be sure that none of them will even try to approach you in the near future.

“I know you don't remember much...”

LEON begins in a soft, almost timid voice when you squeeze his thigh, climbing between them, and he allows, pushing them apart, obeying every movement and desire, even if you see how his ears, face and chest burn with blush, feeling your respectfully shameless touch.

“But, actually... I... we...”

He hesitates, as if trying to figure out how best to convey this idea to you — but when you gently rub his swollen hard nipple, watching his mouth, LEON blushes even more, covering his face with his hand, while the second grabs your wrist, forcing you to leave it on him.

“... Do you like what you see?”

Purple eyes shine like a cat's in the dimness of the room — his body is soft but strong, with elastic slender legs wrapped around your hips in an almost unbearably tight grip, and sensitive soft skin that easily trembles under your fingers, squeezing it until red prints remain. His purring comes from the chest itself, spreading through the body in hot waves, leaving dryness in the throat from the sight of his full arousal and intoxicating delight of his face, when omega's hands grab the sheet, with wide eyes and rounded mouth watching his smooth belly fill up, unable to see how you push, drawlingly teasing unbearably unbearable unbearably slow, not at all like before, as if his whole body was dependent on you, demanding more, stronger, until everything inside him was torn and destroyed, gnawed to the heart that beating in ears from drunken delight with spots in front of eyes.

His whole body is nothing more than a taut string under you, allowing you to dive deep inside, feeling a strong squeeze and hearing soft sweet purring mixed with quiet submissive moans — only to find yourself locked in a steel grip with strong legs that do not even allow you to move even a millimeter, leaving you deeply buried in the most intimate part that he can bare for you, eager to become as vulnerable and naked as it was before. His whole body is nothing more than a temple that longs to be destroyed, defeated, claimed, and when his pupils dilate like the darkness around, leaving only the noise of breathing and the sounds of contact not just bodily, but something more intimate, he looks not like a 'cute shy omega', but something that it is ready to devour you and make you a part of itself — or to become a part of you, but it is absolutely not ready to remain separate.

“D-Do– you– l-like– what you–... feel?”

His body is nothing more than a cozy nest; the perfect place where you can leave the puppies, bury the hot seed with them deep inside, filling the pliable, ripe, fertile womb with your thrusts which are echoed by the pounding of heart in your ears, nuzzling his so sweet-smelling neck, the aroma of which is mixed with the smell of blood on your back caused by claws scratching skin and looking for even more more more smell, stronger, faster, more, don't stop, just don't stop — his tongue burns like poison, licking intoxicating blood in return for the way you drive into his fertile ready-made body, eager to be breed, fertilized, rounded from your puppy, future king of Dark Fall, who will find a place in his body in need of this.

His nails scratch your hands when his stomach is rounded again - not the same soft, but elastic, easily taking everything inside when you gently lift up, assessing his body, wet with juice, semen and sweat, while tears are still flowing over his beautiful face, with a perfectly rounded mouth and trembling hips, not trying to hide none of the embarrassingly sweet traces that leave a strange taste in your mouth - especially at the sight of his thin pink lips with traces of your blood that he licks, looking into your eyes with his drugged, but aware of everything, for the first time so aware of everything for all the time that you have seen him.

“Why do you... didn't bite? Neck...”

Bites on the nipple — hickeys on the neck — prints on the waist — nail marks on the thigh — bare clean neck wet with sweat.

“... Mine?”

The pupils look steadily into yours, as if not expecting this question, and you can see how he seems to wake us up from a drunken delirium, realizing everything around.

His chest rises and falls several times, as if only now LEON realized what had happened, and a glance at the mog is thrown at the sticky wet mess between his thighs.

But when he looks up again, you don't see anything there but frenzied devotion.

“Yours — and you're mine.”

A bite from something seems too right and true — just like the pulsating mark of his teeth on your neck.

And although you are a beta, — you do not have the same ability to fertilize as an alpha, — the sight of his belly filled with you excites some base feelings in you.

[t-h-i-n-g]

hi can u do dialogue prompt 26 with percy jackson ? and congrats for the 1000 followers, you deserve it !!

26. “i smell something burning, you’re sure you’re okay in there?” “i’m fine! i’m fine!”

w percy jackson

Event headline. Event masterlist

Percy didn’t understand how the living hell he ended up here. 

He’s an excellent cook.

He’s been cooking for years.

His mother taught him basically before he could walk.

So why the hell were the eggs in front of him burning every single goddamn time he made a new batch.

Spaghetti he can make.

Muffins he can manage.

Souffle is a struggle but it's tolerable.

But eggs.

That's where he draws the line?

Make it make sense for him, please.

Percy doesn’t know how much more his trash can take from the searing hot burning smell of eggs being dished into it before it’ll cry.

Or maybe him.

“Percy?” A faint soft voice called behind the kitchen door.

He’s so glad he got it installed. Screw the point of you saying ‘The house won’t be as open.’ As long as you can’t see him internally screaming at inanimate objects he’s fine.

“Yeah?” he calls back, with a sore attempt of an even tone.

“Everything okay in there? Why’s the door locked?” 

Percy’s gaze darted down to the jiggling door nob.

“I wanted to surprise you with breakfast. But I guess it’s not a surprise anymore.”

This was not a lie. But he was kinda planning he could actually present to you a semi pretty looking plate and not a bunch of black blobs.

“I smell something burning, you’re sure you’re okay in there?” you asked.

Percy’s eyes widened as he turned back to the simmering pan. Steam lifted from the cooking material.

“I’m fine! I’m fine!” he called rushing to stop the potential disaster. Pulling the pan off of the stove, he turned it off and sat it on a different burner.

Sighing Percy slouched in disappointment as his disgrace of a meal. Slugging his way to the door he opened it and met your concerned expression.

“Breakfast is served,” he grumbled pulling the door back for you to see his monstrosity. You winced at the sight. 

Stepping into the kitchen you scanned the different material and objects scattered about.

“How long have you been at this?” you asked.

“Too long,” Percy stated, dragging a hand down his face.

Your expression softened at his disheaved state. Approaching him you placed an arm around his waist.

“How about we go out for brunch instead?” Percy leaned into your hold.

“As long as you don’t order eggs.”

ty for your request shawty :)))

[thewolvesof1998]

Fuck it Friday

Tagged by @hippolotamus and @daffi-990

Still toiling away for NaNoWriMo and I've been working some more on Alright, Cowboy, Go Get 'Em chapter three (previous snippet and Masterlist):

“I did, didn’t I? Well, I can’t do that if you’re clothes are on,” Eddie says withdrawing his hand from Buck’s underwear. Buck whimpers at the loss of contact before Eddie’s words register, as soon as they do Buck sits up and rips off his shirt. He moves on to his underwear but instead of standing up to take it off, like a sane person, Buck lies down and lifts his hips in the air and pulls them halfway down his thighs. Eddie watches, captivated, as Buck desperately tries to pull them off but they get stuck on one of his ankles. Finally, after a lot of swearing Buck manages to get them off, he throws them on the floor and lies back slightly panting, cheeks pink and avoiding meeting Eddie’s eyes.  “I don’t suppose you can forget you just saw that?” Buck asks Eddie snorts, “I think that will be burned into my memory for the rest of my life.” Buck throws his arm over his face, “Oh good, great.” “Buck,” Eddie places his hand on Buck’s arm. “Just let me die of embarrassment.” “Buck,” He tries to tug Buck’s arm away from his face but it’s like trying to bend metal, goddamn he like how strong Buck is a little too much, “Darlin’,” but even the nickname doesn’t work. Eddie sighs, “Baby please, I need you to look at me.”  He gets a muffled ‘why’ From Buck, “Because you need to see the truth on my face when I say that you being so desperate for me that you couldn’t even wait to stand to get naked is one of the hottest things I’ve ever seen.”  “Say it again?” Buck asks, his arm finally lowering.  “What? You’re so desperate for me?” Buck shivers “Yes-” shakes his head “-No, the other thing.” Eddie feels a smile tug at his lips, “Baby?” Buck practically melts at the term, “You like when I call you baby?” Buck gives a small nod.  Eddie leans over and presses an open mouth kiss to Buck’s pulse point, “Such a desperate baby, huh?”

tagging: @wikiangela @wildlife4life ​ @eddiebabygirldiaz​ @disasterbuckdiaz @spotsandsocks @try-set-me-on-fire @jesuisici33​ @bekkachaos @buddierights @forthewolves @911-on-abc @shitouttabuck @911onabc @exhuastedpigeon @spagheddiediaz @your-catfish-friend @loserdiaz @ladydorian05 @watchyourbuck @king-buckley @chaoticgremlinwholikescheese @fortheloveofbuddie @steadfastsaturnsrings @mangacat201 @theotherbuckley @hoodie-buck @eowon @rainbow-nerdss @nmcggg @pirrusstuff @evanbegins @giddyupbuck @sammy-souffle @smilingbuckley (let me know if you want to be taken off or add to this tag list!)

[milkytheholy1]

Day 8: B Team

This was the perfect time for an experiment, Donnie judged, the lair was practically empty! Leo and Raph had gone out on a mission, Master Splinter had decided to take a walk around the sewers, April and Casey were at school and Mikey was somewhere in his room busy with his comics. Yes, indeed, what a great, splendid, marvellous time to do an experiment.

"With just a single drop of copper sulphate, I should be able to stabilise this new explosive egg bomb. I juuuuust need to make sure I get the measurements exactly, otherwise I could, well, possibly level the city. No biggie." Donnie muttered to himself, his protective goggles slowly etching down his face as he stared intently at what lay before him.

"Of course, this is a piece of cake for me, especially when everything is so quiet and-" he sighed, "Peaceful."

There was one more final check of his mathematics before Donnie started pouring the solution, "Easy...easy...annnndd-"

"Hey, D, what ya workin' on?" Mikey literally popped out of nowhere, "MIKEY!" Donnie all but cried, the solution flying into the air. Donatello saw the world fall into slow motion as his extremely dangerous concoction fizzed in the air, waiting to smash on the ground and destroy them all.

"Oops, my bad. I got it, D!" Mikey leapt into action, catching the beaker with ease and backflipping until his feet touched the floor. He turned to a stunned Donatello, giving the middle child a thumbs up, "What is this stuff anyway, yo? Is it like an alien goo or somethin'?"

"Well actually-"

"OH! Is it like a gel that'll turn me into a superhero? I could be like Crognard or Luffy!" Mikey started bouncing around the room, acting as though his body was made of rubber. Donatello snatched the mixture away before Mikey could cause any more damage, "Actually, Mikey, it is an extremely dangerous experiment that could destroy the whole city."

Donnie gently placed it back down on his workbench, pinching his brows together in frustration, "Woooah, cool." Mikey hummed staring at the rich purple liquid. Donnie pushed his swivel chair to face an awestruck Michelangelo, 'Why are you here? I thought you were reading your comics and NOT bothering me." Donnie frowned, turning back to his project.

Mikey rolled his eyes, pushing away from the desk and deciding to look around the lab, occasionally poking something that caught his interest, "Weeell, I did do that, to begin with. Then I read some wicked stuff Mondo gave me, then after that I got bored and went to cook something, but I got bored doing that so I started playing some video games; y'know, I'm trying to beat Raph's high score?"

Donnie was too stunned to speak, "Then I got bored doing that so I put the TV on and I just so happened to catch One Piece, then it went on the break and I got bored and then I came in here." he turned around to face Donnie with a smile.

"Wow, you did all that in ten minutes?" he gasped, Mikey nearly cried, "IT'S ONLY BEEN TEN MINUTES!" his body deflating to the floor, "I thought it had been an entire day already, dude!" Mikey dragged himself over to Donnie, begging him to create something fun, "What am I gonna do all day, man? What am I gonna do!!!"

"Okay, okay..." Donnie sighed, pushing his younger brother off of him, "I'm sure we can think of something together."

"For real?" Mikey asked, wonder and excitement in his eyes. Donatello chuckled, "Sure, man. C'mon, I got just the thing you can help me with."

---- Later one ----

"What smells like burning?"

"AH! MY SOUFFLE!"

[insecateur]

I'll be standing tall (La Maison-Dieu)

A 10 songs bilingual Sycamore/Lysandre playlist (in honor of Pokémon X&Y's 10th anniversary)

(Unfortunately, I don't use Spotify, so you'll have to make do with this YouTube playlist or look for the songs yourself. But do look under the read more for Lyrics Excerpts and all of that.)

Why a bilingual playlist? Well because I'm a bilingual guy, for a start, and because my experience with Pokémon X&Y in general and this ship in particular has always been bilingual as well (even trilingual, arguably.) I wanted to put together some of my favorite songs in English for them and introduce English-speaking fans to some of my favorite French songs for them, too. A lot of those songs are songs I've quoted, mentioned, or even used as inspiration for art and fic.

(Why is Augustine on the English side and Lysandre on the French side? Because I thought Lysandre would be offended at the idea of being on the English side while Augustine wouldn't care about it as much.)

SIDE A: ENGLISH

Sunburn by Muse

He burns like the sun And I can't look away And he'll burn our horizons Make no mistakes

This is the classic, quintessential PRFR song for me. Its only crime is that it's het, sung from the point of a view of a man singing about a woman. That pesky little detail cannot stop me, however.

Without You I'm Nothing by Placebo (feat David Bowie)

I'm unclean, a libertine And every time you vent your spleen I seem to lose the power of speech You're slipping slowly from my reach You grow me like an evergreen You've never seen the lonely me at all

Do I even need to say anything about this? I listen to this song when I need to make myself Suffer thinking about them. Oh to be unable to bring yourself to say something about your beloved friend's downward spiral...

Hardest of Hearts by Florence + the Machine

Darling heart, I loved you from the start But you'll never know what a fool I've been Darling heart, I loved you from the start But that's no excuse for the state I'm in

My friend sent me this song saying it was about them and they were RIGHT. Shout-out to my friend for that. I like how it can be alternating POV, too.

Changes by The Happy Fits

I try to run away but I find myself, again Stuck in the same place Who will I be today? I can't control the world or change it

This one was suggested by @jonphaedrus and I'm really happy I could have its contribution in here as well. This is very meaningful to me.

Celebrate by Metric

Even the darkest hour soon will be over My friend, it will be over

I couldn't not put a Metric song in there! It was tough finding the right one... But I thought putting a more optimistic spin would be nice, too. I actually associate this song with SLaWCS specifically as well, which is a nice touch.

SIDE B: FRENCH

Pâle Septembre by Camille

Mâle si tendre Au début de novembre Devint sourd aux avances de l'amour Mais quel mal me prit De m'éprendre de lui ?

Did you know? This song is the reason why I associate Lysandre with the Tower arcana. Or at least, it's what put the idea into my brain first. This one is also a quintessential PRFR song for me.

7 Vies by Kyo

La vue est magnifique Contemple-la tant que tu peux La lumière alcaline Le bien, l'ennemi du mieux Tant que le temps défile Tout doit se vivre à deux Je pratique le langage des signes Et celui du feu

I think I should be allowed to include some more vibes songs in there, although I'd argue this one fits them well. It's a bit abstract, but it fits.

Tout donner by Maître Gims

Tu es ma maladie Ma guérison quand tu l'décides Mes nuits s'illuminent J'en confonds le jour et la nuit

A desperate, self-destructive pining song... What else could a man want in this world. It's very tasty. I think about those lines way too often.

Aimer à mort by Louane

L'espoir qui joue, le feu, le froid Un souffle au cou, baiser de roi Pour nous reprendre, pour nous défendre Pour se comprendre chaque fois

Another intense but more optimistic one. I want to believe... I want them to believe as well...

Rouge Ardent by Axelle Red

As-tu trouvé, dans les feux, dans les flammes Ton idéal rouge ardent As-tu froid As-tu peur de l'aurore Tu disais "tout s'évapore" Tu as eu tort

It's a song about being in love with a failed idealist. And also the color red is there. What more can I say. (Also, this time it's originally a het song from the POV of a woman singing about a man, which ties it all neatly together, I think.)

Happy 10th anniversary to all my fellow shippers, young and old, new and ancient, whether you were in the trenches with me back in October 2013 on this webbed site or you joined us in 2021 with the Pokémon Masters revival, thank you for loving them always. Here's to loving them more and more in the future, and here's to the Pokémon X&Y remakes as they become clearer and clearer on the horizon. (And maybe we'll get a Legends game, too? Wouldn't that be something...)

[rockn-rule]

so. got any thoughts to share with the class about our dear Jack Frost? i bet that lovely smile of his is haunting you right now 😉❄️

Oh boy do i

Jack Frost head cannons here I come

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚘𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚕𝚘𝚠 ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

*❊- Obviously Jack is fruity, he has to be, and he definitely leans more on the spectrum of bisexual for me

*❊- Jack almost certainly is secretly lukewarm under his jacket, especially with all his layers

*❊- Jack would 100% be a good romantic you can't tell me otherwise- he would probably either make a rose out of ice or freeze one so it stays young forever

*❊- In terms of date ideas, I feel he'd enjoy a nice icy gazebo with some snowmen playing soft, melancholy, songs and a lil blanket and telescope for star gazing

*❊- He so has a fascination with cold stars and pluto

*❊- He'd plan picnic dates at night so that you could watch the Aurora Borealis and meteor showers together

*❊- He's definitely more loyal and obsessive than being cold and distant (ironically)

*❊- He would be the sort to braid your hair, or cut it for you- He'd also probably end up putting ever lasting snowflakes in your hair too

*❊- His fingers are undoubtedly cold, but his chest would definitely be almost burning- and he's definitely using all those layers of icy clothes to hide it

*❊- Probably has a sleigh, but it's definitely be driven by a draft horse that's got blue eyes and a silver coat

*❊- said horse would be be named Boreas, after the Greek god

*❊- He loves animals, especially snow leopards- and he's 100% sad they're going extinct hence why he brings winter early

*❊- He definitely makes slushies you can't tell me he doesn't

*❊- His favourite berry is probably mulberries since they are so resistant to frost

*❊- He probably bakes a lot, definitely leaning more towards souffle's and fancier things

*❊- He's so spy from tf2 coded in ways I can't explain, because he totally drinks wine and margaritas

*❊- He can't get drunk because he drinks so often

*❊- He likes ice ballet, for obvious reasons, and would probably beg you to skate with him- even pulling you gently onto the ice to lead you into a waltz

*❊- He gives me the vibes that he'd like the Russian song 'dark is the night's and some other older Russian songs

*❊- Undoubtedly a good kisser, definitely not the best for sure, but still good

*❊- He gets flustered so fast by simple praises and light touches, he probably whimpers and begs for one last kiss before he goes with puppy dog eyes like the pathetic idiot he is

*❊- Definitely signs 'I love you' in sign language from across the room, or table

*❊- He crosses his legs when sitting and moves a lot because he's got ADHD, maybe even hyper mobility too

*❊- You fall first but he falls faster sorta fella

*❊- He'd wear a dress to annoy the others but then realize he likes it

♡⑅*˖•. ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .•˖*⑅♡

I'll be doin more of this eventually so be prepared for even more of 'I am clinical do not perceive me'

[celestial-corner-of-desires]

Good day~ Thank you so very much for another request of mine, it was beautiful as always~ 🌸 I have another one in mind, if I may? Let’s see… How about Dietfried's significant other surprising him by bringing a homemade lunch, made with care and love, at work? And maybe even something for his subordinates too, out of kindness and gratitude. Will that little act of kindness make Dietfried a bit... jealous? I wonder, tee hee hee~

Happy New Year, darling! I hope you will forgive me for the wait. To make up for it, I wanted to sprinkle some... Spice, hehe.

Wiping your sweat off your forehead, you look at all the mini dishes you cooked up in front of you. In recent months, cooking has become one of your new favorite hobbies. Since you spend most of your days caring for the house and not having enough time to travel around, learning new and foreign dishes helps to mend this little desire. You often share your newest creations with your beloved Dietfried, who has been your biggest supporter and encouraged you to try again if you fail. When there were times when the dish got extra burned, or meat was undercooked and raw, Dietfried would wipe tears that you couldn't contain from disappointment in yourself. He would lean in, kissing your forehead, whispering how proud he is of you trying something new, and telling you not to belittle yourself because of a few mistakes.

"Even perfection can make a mistake. And it only makes me love you more than I already do."

And with recent terrorist attacks, Dietfried barely has time to come home, to properly enjoy your dishes, only to come home exhausted, kissing you, and heading to bed. It pained you to see him overworked and how badly his well-being was in this state. To ensure that you were safe, Dietfried asked you to limit your visits to him until the attacks were lowered, since he would never forgive himself if anything were to harm you. You have his heart in your palms, and the mere thought of seeing you in any pain, would break Dietfried. But a small selfish part of you craved those days when you and your beloved would snack on your newest creations, laughing and chattering about everything and nothing at all.

So, an idea popped into your little pretty head.

After checking each dish, you have prepared, you go to grab a basket with a towel to place it in. Firstly, you put in Quiche Lorraine as the main dish, the smell of smoked bacon with cheese decorating the top, making your stomach growl with hunger. As much as you wanted to make new items, you settled on making some of Dietfried's favorite childhood dishes that his mother shared with you. Adding to the Quiche Lorraine, you fixed up some fresh Croque monsieur, a sandwich with melted cheese and ham, topped with fried egg, toasted to perfection. Lastly, you baked up some light-as-air souffles and Paris-Brest to compliment the overall meal.

Glancing to check that you got everything, you went to properly get ready, wearing your favorite dress, complimented with jewelry, and lipstick that made Dietfried irresistible to your lips. Checking yourself out in the mirror, you took a deep breath and smiled to yourself. Moving to grab the basket, you also took your purse and keys and walked out of the house.

If your beloved couldn't come to enjoy meals with you, who says you couldn't come to him with meals? And besides, when has Dietfried ever said no to you, when you looked at him like you worship him with your love?

Walking on the streets of the capital, you let the lively noise of your surroundings tune like music, letting your imagination create stories as the different voices and sounds provide you with the basic concept to play from. As you reached the headquarters of the navy, you were greeted by the guards, who recognized you as the naval captain's spouse, opening the gates for you. You thanked the guards, wishing them a good day, heading towards the office of your loved one. Reaching for the handle of the door, you lightly pushed, it before walking up to the receptionist. As she notices your presence, she greets you.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Bougainvillea. To what do I own the pleasure of seeing you?"

"I am pleased to see you as well, Mrs. Barbier. I was hoping if I could see Dietf- *ahem* Captain Bougainvillea to hand him his lunch."

Mrs. Barbier was a sweet elderly lady who had been in the military for a few decades. Luckily for her, she never had to partake in war, but the stories of officers and commanders still left some horrific imagery. Ever since you began to date Dietfried and would visit him, Mrs. Barbier would always lightly tease you both about how you would make the perfect married couple. True to those predictions, Dietfried proposed to you later and the rest is history.

"Of course. The captain just got off his meeting with the fleet commander and should be available at this hour."

"Wonderful! Thank you so much. Oh, would you like to try some treats I prepared?"

You found the courage in yourself to say it, as you prepared some baked goods for Dietfried's colleagues as a kind gesture.

A glint of excitement passes through Mrs. Barbier’s eyes, "I would be delighted dear."

Opening the basket, you hand her a small bowl of Paris-Brests, and she takes one of them to sample. Biting into the pastry, she hums in joy as the chocolate and creme cover her taste buds, letting the sweets melt off any stress she has had prior.

"Oh, my goodness, this is so delicious. I remember the captain praising your cooking to others, but this is beyond of what I could have imagined!"

A bashful blush covers your cheeks, as you let out a smile, "I am glad you like it. I wasn't sure that I made them as precisely as the recipe required it to be, but-"

"My dear, if you think those aren't good, you are being too humble. If you decide to open a bakery, I will be your first customer! Oh Piere, boys!" Gentlemen passing by look towards Mrs. Barbier, glancing at the lady. Holding up the bowl, she continues, "Come try those sweets! Mrs. Bougainvillea has baked some of the divine treats you will ever get to taste."

A cool shiver comes down your spine. Sure, Dietfried told you that your cooking was incredible, but you never had someone else try your cooking, especially strangers.

A smile forms on their faces, as they walk forward, taking the pastry in their mouths. As the sweet sensation coats them, an approved groans were let out.

"What a treat!"

"Delicious beyond expectations!"

"Damn, this is better than what my wife has made!"

The anticipating disappointment washes away from your body, as the gentlemen turn to you, thank you, and ask if they could have more. Feeling a bit clustered by the men, you take a small step back, a polite smile placed to ease yourself. You came here to feed your Dietfried, but it seems you got some extra attention than you expected.

"I don't recall surrounding a defenseless woman as part of the Navy protocol, soldiers." A musky voice comes from behind the men, causing them to shiver, turning to the source. Leaning on the wall, arms crossed, Dietfried stares at the soldiers, his eyes darkening ever so slightly, only to soften when his eyes land on you. Your heart can't help but skip a beat at how despite not talking or touching you, a simple glance from him sends you relief you didn't know your body was asking for.

"Captain Bougainvillea, sir!" They salute him.

Returning his gaze to soldiers, he pushes himself off the wall, straddling forward. As he gets close to you, the soldiers move aside to make way. Dietfried stops only mere inches away from you, but you can feel the heat of his body coursing onto you. You give him a shy smile, to which he returns with his gentle smile. Shifting his eyes to Mrs. Barbier, Dietfried lifts his eyebrow at her.

"It would seem you are keeping my spouse from me, Mrs. Barbier.” His tone is jesting, but you can see something else laced at the edges of his eyes. Hunger, darkness, and overwhelming danger. A shiver crawls down from your spine to your thighs. Getting lost in your mind, you shift your eyes from his eyes to his lips, biting the inside of your lip.

God, why does he make you feel so safe in his presence, but so vulnerable and exposed, like a simple touch will undo you and make you crave him to pounce himself into you little cu-

“Dear, are you ok? You are zoning out, aren’t you?” You feel his hand on your face, letting his gloved thumb trace a circular pattern on your cheek.

Blinking yourself from your little wet dreaming, a blush covered your cheek as you answered, “Can’t I come and see my beloved husband without any reason, hm?”

A chuckle escapes Dietfried’s lips, as he looks at the clock, signaling midafternoon, until shifting his eyes to the basket in your arm. “Based on the smell, I don’t believe you came with no reason, my love. Please follow me to my office, Mrs. Bougainvillea.” He gestures with his hand towards the direction of his office, while placing his other hand on your lower back.

Lifting your head up, you nod and bid farewell to the soldiers and Mrs. Barbier as you headed towards the office. You could hear the soldiers chatting between each other over your cooking and how overprotective the naval captain appeared to them.

Crossing the threshold of the office, you walk towards the desk, placing the basket as Dietfried closed the door. Before you can open the basket’s lid, he quickly strides towards you, clasping your hands, causing you to turn around, only to be met with the clash of his lips on yours. The passion and power behind Dietfried’s lips on yours makes your mind spin around, causing black spots to appear as breath leaves your lungs. You could feel his hands leave your hands, only to trail one of them on your back, while the other on your thighs. You grasp onto him to balance yourself, as his tongue invades your mouth, caressing all your insides. Before you could pass out, Dietfried slowly pulls away, letting you catch your breath. Feeling the air rushed back into your lungs, you open your eyes, only to see Dietfried’s gentle verdurous eyes turn dark like a shade of midnight forest.

“Busy day?” You let the words slip before your mind could process it.

A growl leaves Dietfried’s lips as he brings his hand from your back to your neck, never letting his eyes fall from you.

“Oh, baby. You have no fucking idea how grateful I am for you coming here, all dressed up for me like the prettiest doll in all nation, and with the food that I know you put your hardest to make just for me. However…” He leans forwards, kissing your neck, “Seeing you surrounded by those men, staring at you like you some kind of toy to use to get wasted, it made my blood boil. To let them look at how perfect you are, with the curves crafted by the renowned artists, hair that lures me and bends me to my knees, the lips that make me want you so badly that I lose focus on everything else.”

If there was blush before on your cheeks, your whole body was burning red from the desire Dietfried was whispering on your skin. Getting lost in how your body was reacting to his lips on your neck, you failed to notice Dietfried’s hands snaking down to your waist. He picks you up, settling you on his desk.

You gasped, “What are you doing, Di-“

Before you could finish your question, Dietfried raises the skirt of your dress and spreads your thighs apart. With your lipstick on his lips, he whispers against your thighs, “Enjoying my meal, my doll.”

From this point NSFW material. Proceed with caution.

He dives his head towards your covered clit, kissing it up and down. A moan escapes your lips, as you hold the desk for support. Smirking at the sound, Dietfried pulls your underwear aside, sticking his tongue as he licks, circling the warm skin and sucking on the buds that send shockwaves through your system. You tilt your head back as the sensation rushes towards your core, as his tongue makes its way through your gummy walls. Your thighs, without you thinking, clasped Dietfried to make him move closer to give you more pleasure that your body can’t help but yell at you to grind for.

It's been so long since both of you fucked one another, with the limited opportunities the discussion of going further with sex life, it would seem both of you yearning some friction that only your bodies could provide for one another.

Dietfried knew which spots to touch to make your body know how much he worships you, how every pulsation that he can feel through your body is making his dick harden at the thought of you feeling good. Knowing that he makes you feel how special you are to him, how devoted he is to you and everything you have given him. He wants you to know – no – feel fucking much you alone make him the happiest man in all of human existence.

“Fuck, look at you baby. I only just began, and you are already soaking wet. Have my baby missed me thrusting my cock so deep, pushing against this tight pussy, as you begged for me to make you lose any consciousness you possessed, hm?” He moans into your cunt, as he lets himself breath in the smell of your needy walls, as your pre-cum covers his lips.

“P-p..Ple-please.” You master so coherent thoughts through your fogged mind.

“Please what, baby? You know if you want something you need to say out loud, I can’t do anything unless you tell me. Use your big words baby.”

Using the last strength you could gather, you let your eyes fall to his as you mewl, “Please, fuck me harder till I am full to the brim with your essence.”

The last of string of any control snaps in Dietfried’s eyes as he snarls into your pussy, going faster and sharper as your climax began to grow deep in your core. You try to muffle any moans and screams with your hand, while moving your other hand, grabbing Dietfried’s hair to push him closer. Your body begins to shake as you were on the edge of falling into the bliss, the white fire coursing through your clit, until he growled, “Cum for me.”

The crash came down with such powerful force, leaving you shaking, tears running down your cheeks at how deliciously good that was. You pulled your hand away from his hair, as bliss settles in your body.

Dietfried notices your tears, standing up to kiss them away and then bring his lips to yours, as you wrap your arms around his neck. Though you could taste yourself, there was still distinctive part of Dietfried’s taste that your body could always feel.

“You did so good, baby.” He purrs against your lips.

“Anything for you, my love.” You let out a big smile, feeling warmth of how intimate you two were with each other.

“Can I ask you something?” Letting your finger twirl around with his hair, you hummed for him to continue.

“Would you mind if I fulfill your wish?” Letting your emotional side overrule your rational one, you slip one of your hands down to his pants, feeling is bulge hard as a stone. You run your hand up and down, squeezing him as Dietfried rolls his eyes at how your torturous touches. Deciding to be nice to him, you pull his zipper down, pulling his cock out of his underwear.

Aligning him with your entrance, you signal with your eyes, “Push in and breed me.”

[sinvulkt]

Last Six Sentences

Share the last six sentences you've written. Like this!

thank you @bluntblade for the tag!!! Those sentences were written less than a hour ago, they’re still warm :3

* 𓊝 * NAUTILUS (TV) * 𓊝 *

Dakkar poussa plus loin dans ses souvenirs; c’était important. Les soldats avaient répondu quelque chose à propos de Mya et Renouka, il en était sur, mais les paroles exactes s’enfuyaient comme du sable entre ses mains. La migraine enfla encore et encore, faisant tournoyer la pièce et le forçant à prendre appui sur le mur jusqu'à ce que, à bout de souffle, Dakkar perdit la piste du souvenir qui le narguait aux frontières de sa conscience.

Son regard tomba sur un des symboles qui avaient attiré son attention plus tôt alors qu’il reprenait son équilibre. Le blason de la Compagnie lui faisait face au centre d’une parure dorée, moquant ses peurs et sa faiblesse. Une rage brûlante lui envahit le cœur.

English version bellow the cut.

Dakkar dug deeper into his memories; it was important. The soldiers had said something about Mya and Renouka, he was sure of it, but the exact words were slipping away like sand through his fingers. His headache spiked more and more, making the room spin and forcing him to lean against the wall until, out of breath, Dakkar lost track of the memory taunting him.

His gaze fell on one of the symbols that had caught his attention earlier as he regained his balance. The coat of arms of the Company was facing him in the centre of a golden ornament, mocking his fears and his weakness. A burning rage invaded his heart.

(Go watch this tv serie, it’s inspired from Jules Verne 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea book, and it contains all the best angst and whump tropes you can obtain with a messy bunch of a crew.)

Tagging @kuraiarcoiris @udekai @aimportantdragoncollector @threebea @beguilewritesstuff @stewardofningishzida @numerousbees1106 @trickstress333 @exomal @thehappybaker @wendingways @cinderfeather @yatsukisakura @tramp-fiction @purpleopossum @starmahgalaxies @purple-iris @tonhalszendvics @retciwrites @vandervoiz @insertmeaningfulusername @pebblish @pat-the-togorian @linzerj @kgjhk @fanfictasia @kefalion @doctorgeekery @asteral-feileacan @dreaminghour @silvereddaye @chickadeechickadoo @25centsoda @silvercaptain24 @azzzryel @ash--00 @sarcasticfirefighter @charlottevader @makaronik @wyvunn @in-company-of-misery @starr234

As well as any of you who see this post and want to join in the game!! 🌊 𓊝

[ghostinthegallery]

I just need everyone to know that I enjoy writing Necrons a *completely normal* amount. And I think about how to write them pretty much the average amount too. Just so we're clear.

But y'all I really like writing for Orikan (and not just because of the banter with Trazyn. That's only like 60% of why)

We went on a journey, him and I. Because I hated his robotic guts for easily 2/3rds of Infinite and the Divine...

In my defense, the scene of him shattering all those ancient ceramics enraged me! I've been going to museums since I could walk. I love art and history! I watch the Great Pottery Throwdown!! He did not start off from a sympathetic place.

But damn it, the bastard grew on me! He's obscenely competent, literally the best at what he does, but that doesn't change the fact that he's essentially a servant to more powerful people and that he is *profoundly lonely*

The thing about a lot of characters who think they are smarter than everyone around them is that they are wrong and usually have an arc about needing to be humbled. Orikan actually is smarter than everyone around him! He runs circles around farseers! He pulls time shenanigans that are considered *impossible* on a semi-regular basis. No one can truly compete with him (well, almost no one, put a pin in that).

Except that means he has no equal, no person he can really relate to, and he's painfully aware of that. Jokes about e-girlfriends aside, meeting Vishani was a dream come true, because she was actually someone Orikan respected, who respected him in return, and who he could talk to like a friend. He got that after waiting millions of years.

Except it was all a lie. The god that damned their people decided to ruin Orikan's day in particular in the most personal way possible.

It's a particularly cruel twist because not only are there no other Necrons for Orikan to consider an intellectual equal, there aren't any he can really TRUST. He warned every single one of them that biotransference would be a disaster and no one listened. Not only that, they forced him to give up his body and soul. He was dragged to the furnaces knowing what was going to happen to him, and it doesn't sound like he's gotten a whole lot of "mea culpas" from anyone.

So yeah, everyone's an idiot, their idiocy cost him his literal soul, and the one time he got the friend he craved it turned out to be an evil star god cosplaying his nerd-crush.

Which is a lot of angst to work with as a writer! And it is fun as hell. There's just one more ingredient that truly elevates this tragedy souffle. Time to take out the pin...

The pin is Trazyn. No one should be shocked by this.

Because the thing is, Orikan *does* have an equal, a counterpart, and someone he can...not trust per se, but at least understand. The only problem is that he does not realize it, because that person is Trazyn. Who Orikan hates. A lot.

Justifiably, to be fair. Trazyn is an asshole (loveable asshole, but still). But more relevantly, Trazyn represents a philosophy Orikan understandably cannot stand. Trazyn represents the past, memory, preservation. None of those things have served Orikan well. Necrontyr society kind of sucked (early deaths to cancer or dying in a war were about the only options). And that was before it fundamentally failed him specifically. Plus, preservation and stasis are anathema to what a chronomancer devotes themselves to being able to do. So yeah, Trazyn may be a genius in his field equal to Orikan, but Orikan does not respect that field, so he can never admit it.

Orikan embodies the "want vs need" principle of character writing. He wants a companion and an equal. He needs to accept that those will not come in the form he expects or even likes. He's nowhere near doing that and it's *deliciously tragic*

How can I not love this hyper-competent, lonely nerd with a tsundere streak and strong motivation to Burn Society to the Ground?

I've been rambling too long, I'm cutting myself off before I start going off about the relationship between Orikan and Imotekh which is admittedly based way less on canon (have they even been in a scene together ever?) and way more my own interpretation and extrapolation.

I'll probably talk about writing other characters too, I love these undead robot idiots to much to shut up

[bcbdrums]

Ron and Drakken's cooking show, part 4

Ron: Now, souffle is very delicate-- Drakken: That's right, it cannot be ignored for even a moment. Shego: *walks in* Drakken: Ah, Shego! Love of my life! Apple of my evil eye! Shego: Is something burning? Drakken: Only my love for you! Ron: Your souffle is on fire.

[lounesdarbois]

Salut Lounès ! Voyons tes réactions à ces quelques citations… taquines ! 

Première citation :

Je suis de ces auteurs qu’ont du souffle, du répondant, du biscoto. J’emmerde le genre entier humain à cause de mon répondant terrible, de ma paire de burnes fantastiques (et bordel de dieu je le prouve !). Je jute, je conclus, je triomphe, je trempe la page de plein génie��� De vous à moi, entre copains, c’est ce qu’on me pardonne pas du tout, à la ronde, ce qu’on me pardonnera jamais, jamais, la façon que je termine, que j’achève les entreprises, que je vais au pied comme une reine, à tous les coups. Ils voudraient bien me faire mourir, mes émules, même mes petits élèves, par chagrins, par méchants propos, me faire périr sous les morsures d’une foison de cancrelats, sous les venins d’une pullulation atroce d’aspics effroyablement voyous, martyrivores. Mais ma peau de vache me protège, jusqu’ici j’ai réchappé. Louis-Ferdinand Céline, L’École des cadavres (1938) 

Lounès Darbois : Eh oui ! Dans une confrontation, se coucher excite rarement la pitié de l’adversaire mais plutôt son sadisme. Les cruels sont souvent des lâches et vice-versa. C’est pourquoi il faut être « terrible et fantastique » pour durer et endurer. J’ai une photo de Raymond Poulidor grimpant une côte. Tout est résumé dans l’expression de son visage, le genre qui ne plaisante pas, sourd à la douleur, tendu vers son idéal. Parfois je la regarde. 

Deuxième citation :

(…) il ne s’agit plus de comprendre et d’aider son prochain mais de le fasciner et de l’enculer. Philippe de Vulpillières, L’homme tue et la femme rend fou (2017) 

Lounès Darbois : Brutal mais exact vu les mœurs actuelles ! La fascination, la « possession » sont des caractéristiques du diable. Tendance fatale quand on veut bien croire à tout sauf au bon sens ! Auteur au parcours intéressant soit dit en passant. 

Troisième citation :

Les hommes sont devenus avides, mesquins, menteurs, […] ils ont perdu la foi et le sens du vrai, il n’y a plus de rois, il n’y a plus de bonheur. Ils chercheront la mort sans la trouver ; ils désireront mourir, mais la mort les fuira. Roman von Ungern-Sternberg cité par Léonid Youzéfovitch, Le Baron Ungern (2001) 

Lounès Darbois : Terrible lorsqu’on sait le destin de cet homme. Lui et sa troupe se battaient à 1 contre 100 dans la steppe, dans une guerre sans espoir. La chanson sur les Russes blancs finit bien par « et leur agonie cruelle, la honte de l’Occident ». 

Quatrième citation :

La vie de l’homme oscille, comme un pendule, entre la douleur et l’ennui. Arthur Schopenhauer, Le monde comme volonté et comme représentation (1819) 

Lounès Darbois : Qu’est-ce qui est le plus agaçant : est-ce le poison de la philosophie du soupçon que Schopenhauer et Nietzsche, en suivant les pas de La Rochefoucauld, ont répandu sur les meilleures générations d’Européens qu’ils avaient au contraire pour mission de galvaniser ? Ou est-ce la complaisance dans la déprime où aiment se morfondre les jeunes Blancs intelligents pour justifier leur inertie ? Difficile à dire ! Enfin tout cela mérite une bonne douche froide et deux jours de diète. Il y a plus de sagesse dans la vie sans parole de François d’Assises que dans les 10 000 pages de l’oncle Arthur et j’ai le droit de le dire car je les ai toutes lues ! Flaubert plus laconique disait à Maupassant : « Méfiez vous de la tristesse, c’est un vice. » 

Cinquième citation :

Ainsi devient raciste celui qui ne veut pas voir son pays envahi par l’étranger, réactionnaire celui qui regrette le temps passé, révisionniste celui qui n’adhère pas à la doxa nationale, fondamentaliste celui qui se réclame de la religion de ses pères. Jean de Pingon, préface à Laurent Gruaz, Et si la Savoie redevenait indépendante ? Projet pour un état souverain, catholique et royal (2020) 

Lounès Darbois : La xénophobie que l’on essaie toujours de faire passer pour une agression active est un réflexe de défense à une agression. Au plan des instincts, elle procède de la pulsion de vie ; au plan politique elle est une résistance à la colonisation ; au plan moral elle est morale ; et au plan chrétien… elle est justifiée par la parabole du bon Samaritain : seul l’étranger qui vous sauve est votre prochain, pas les étrangers en général. 

Sixième citation :

Ah la sale gueule des honnêtes gens… Pierre-Antoine Cousteau, pensées et aphorismes (2021) 

Lounès Darbois : Se vérifie souvent chez des gens très fiers d’avoir étudié en école de commerce. 

Septième citation :

La conversation d’une femme : 95 % de reproches. Paul Morand, Journal inutile (1968-1972 et 1973-1976) 

Lounès Darbois : Vrai sauf… sauf si vous l’« honorez », comme on disait jadis. Alors elle vous fiche la paix. 

Huitième citation :

À vingt ans on a déjà plus que du passé. Louis-Ferdinand Céline, Voyage au bout de la nuit (1932) 

Lounès Darbois : Avez-vous déjà eu cette impression malgré tous les voyages que vous avez entrepris, malgré toutes les réalisations que vous avez accomplies, que tout pendant l’enfance et l’adolescence étaient encore plus intense, plus beau, plus spontané, en somme plus vrai ? Il me semble que la vraie vie, c’est l’enfance, et que le reste est accessoire. 

Retrouvez Lounès Darbois chez Kontre Kulture

[thewolvesof1998]

Seven Sentence Sunday

Tagged by the amazing @wikiangela <3

Here's some more my Pirate AU, I've written almost 2000 words for this in the past two days 😬 I'm loving developing Athena's and Eddie's friendship atm so here's a little bit of that:

“My wife left me,” He admits “I’m sorry.” Eddie shakes his head, “I left her first if I had ever really been there in the first place.” Athena raises an eyebrow in question, “We were childhood friends, our parents arranged the marriage because of this but,” Eddie swallows if Athena is so unconventional in her own relationship maybe he can be honest about a part of himself that he’s only allowed out in the dark of the night, behind close doors, “We- I didn’t, couldn’t love her, not in the way she deserved.” Athena nods, “This reminds me of a conversation I had with my ex-husband not too long ago,” She says, a smile on her lips, “But you should know now he can love him in the way he deserves.”  Eddie finally picks up his glass and downs the rum in one go, blaming his watering eyes on the burn of the liquor.  He feels a small hand on his arm, “Dad look, it’s a mermaid! Do you think Mister Buck will like it?” Chris says, holding up his drawing for Eddie to see.  “I’m sure he will bud,” Eddie says.

Previous snippet

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