#but here we are and at least i'm drawing something | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

wizard-of-interesting-failure · 9 hours ago

Text

"I don't understand. Why isn't he getting up?"

"Wh- you killed him!"

"Don't be silly, death isn't real."

"You cast Finger of Death!"

"I cast Lightning Bolt too; they name spells after fake shit all the time."

"Lightning is real too!!"

"Oh come on. Next you'll be telling me color is a thing."

"...have you ever actually been outside this cavern?"

"What's a cavern?"

"It's where we are right now!"

"Odd name for it, but yes, of course I have. Been this way, that way, through there is a lovely group of giant spiders..."

"We, ah. Might have killed those on our way here."

"Don't be silly, death isn't real."

"...right. Where do you think we came from?"

"Eh, somewhere. Weird shit shows up all the time."

"I-"

"Oh! Your friend there startled me and it totally slipped my mind; would you care for some tea? I don't drink it myself, but I keep some on hand for guests."

"...okay, listen. These are the Caverns of Chaos. Everything in here is self-replenishing. The prevailing theory was that they existed to protect a central chamber. We've spent weeks down here slogging through unimaginable horrors to make it there and you're going to, what, play dumb?"

"Okay now you're just being rude. I am not dumb! There might not be much to do around here, but I do my best to keep my mind sharp. I'd like to see you figure out as much as I have about the ever-shifting layout of the world!"

"We did! That's how we got here! Have you never tried scrying the outside?"

"Scrying spells are some sort of prank, best I can tell; they never seem to do anything except give me a headache."

"Cast one up."

"I don't really want to give myself a-"

"Just do it! At least 2000 meters."

"Alright, but I don't see...what..."

"..."

"...colors?"

"Yeah, the whole dungeon is monochrome for some reason, we think-"

"Lightning?"

"Well, if there's a storm, I suppose-"

"Death?"

"...death?"

"There's...more like your friend."

"What do you mean-"

"Why aren't they moving?"

"I don't-"

"I'm moving. I can move. See? They look like me. Why aren't they moving?"

"They're- there are skeletons? We just came from-"

"Am I going to stop moving?"

"No, you-"

"Why isn't your friend moving?"

"..."

"...he's...'dead'. Isn't he. I 'killed' him."

"...listen, just calm down, we can-"

"Oh, yes, of course! I could never figure out what these spells for making 'un-dead' were for, but they must be for fixing this! I'll just-"

"NO!"

"But he's-"

"We're handling it!"

"No you're not! Whatever you're doing, it's not working."

"How can you-"

"You're trying to draw power from something that's not there. I've done it a few times, don't feel bad, it's a common mistake."

"I'm drawing power from my goddess! There's no way she's..."

"What is a goddess? Is it that little symbol you're carrying around? It doesn't seem to have any power in it."

"...it...why can't I feel her?"

"Just let me do it, I can-"

"We're not letting you turn Steve into some kind of undead abomination!"

"Wh- but he wasn't dead before!"

"He was alive, you stupid thing!"

"Right, not dead. Un-dead. I'll just make him un-dead again and then we can..."

"Why has she forsaken me?"

"We can..."

"Why won't she answer??"

"Color...lightning...death..."

audible weeping

"They're like me...why aren't they moving?"

"It's probably just the Caves messing with the divine connection, we should-"

"Should I not be moving?"

extended wailing

"Is un-dead not like 'alive'?"

"Listen, I know we didn't have this problem before, but-"

"Is there something wrong with being un-dead?"

"OF COURSE THERE IS, YOU STUPID UNDEAD THING! STEVE IS DEAD, THE GODDESS WON'T LISTEN TO ME, AND YOU'RE JUST...just..."

"...just what?"

"..."

"What am I?"

"..."

"WHAT AM I???"

the cavern shakes

"Listen, just calm down, we'll-"

"Why is he dead? Why are they all dead?"

"All wh-"

"The ones you made me scry on!"

"Oh my god, we forgot about-"

"Why aren't they moving??"

"We don't know! What else did you see?"

"Colors, lightning, death..."

"What else??"

"Colors, lightning, death..."

the lich collapses into a fetal position, rocking back and forth

"Listen, this is important, you need to-"

someone attempts to shake the lich. A sudden pulse of darkness slams them into the opposite wall.

"Colors, lightning, death..."

"Just calm down, we can-"

"GODDESS? WHERE ARE YOU??"

"Colors, lightning, death..."

the party leader buries her face in her hands. The healer weeps and wails. The lich, seemingly catatonic, continues mumbling to himself. This goes on for a while.

"..."

"Right. Okay. That's enough of this. We're taking Steve's body and leaving. We wouldn't have a chance against a lich in this state anyway. Keep trying to revive him as we go, we'll-"

"...lich?"

"Yes, yes, you don't know anything about anything, it's very funny, har har, we're done here. Go back to giving yourself headaches or whatever it is you do all day."

"I'm coming with you."

"...what?"

"You know what I am. You know about places that aren't 'caverns'. You know about colors, lightning, and death. I need to come with you."

"No offence, buddy, but you don't exactly seem like adventuring material."

"Please! Don't you need to find out why all those people are...'dead'? I can speak with dead, I guess, if it's a real thing."

"..."

"We are not taking this THING that killed Steve with us!"

"...we probably are going to need help with whatever is going on up there."

"He might be lying!"

the party leader gestures at the utterly guileless lich. The healer turns away.

"...fine."

"Thank you."

"Just...keep him away from me."

The party improvises a stretcher as the lich gathers up his meager possessions. A thick silence reigns as the group shuffles out the only exit, the lich awkwardly following at a distance.

"Wait, I forgot my maps-"

"We'll be fine. Just stay back there, okay? You've caused enough trouble for one day."

Nodding hesitantly, the lich steps over the threshold, leaving his cavern for the last time.

It turns out that the lich the adventurers had been hired to slay had never actually killed anyone before until the impulsive paladin of the group swung first. Now, as the healer tries to revive them, the rest have to calm the ancient undead mage down from what is undeniably a panic attack.

#wizardposting #wizard posting #wizard

3K notes · View notes

mylovesstuffs · 20 hours ago

Text

OT13 reaction to their s/o suggesting going raw for the first time

Request: May I request something a little spicy SVT reaction to their partner tell them they are on birth control now and suggested on using no condoms for the first time. (if they both agree) P.S You have such good writing!

A/N: I'm not sure if I did this justice, but my writing style shifts depending on my mood and the request. This time, it just felt right to make most of them take the lead—so here we are. And ofc, they’d be thrilled to finally experience this without any barriers, but y’all, be smart and stay safe, alright? NOT PROOFREAD!

Content: MDNI ! reader is on birth control, heavy implications, mild degradation & possessiveness, several members take on dominant/assertive roles, mature language, grip-tightening, caging, and restraint, raw/unprotected sex implication, loss of control themes. Lmk if I missed anything

Seungcheol: His eyes lock onto yours, filled with a mix of surprise and something primal. "Are you sure?" His voice is low, just above a whisper, almost a growl as he steps closer, his hand cupping your face, thumb brushing over your cheek. "You've got to know this means something,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your lips. There's an intensity in his stare is deeper than lust. His fingers trace the curve of your jaw before tilting your chin up, "We can take it slow, but I trust you." His lips press to your forehead, lingering for a moment, as if he's grounding himself of what's about to happen. His hands find your waist, his grip firm. "Tell me if you're ready,” he whispers, his voice laced with restraint, as if he's holding himself back. But you see it_the simmering desire in his eyes, the hunger behind his control.

Jeonghan: The moment you speak, Jeonghan's expression falters, his eyes darkening with a barely contained desire. His fingers reach up to trace along your jaw, slow, sending shivers through you. "Are you sure, angel?" he murmurs, yes he'll angel you in this moment his voice softer now, thoughtful, but there's an edge to it. "Because once we do this, there's no way we can go back to how things were, I'll love it." His lips brush against yours, feather-light at first, teasing. "I want you to be all in," he whispers, his breath hot against your skin, "to feel every sensation with me." Then, without warning, he closes the distance, capturing your lips fully, deeply, drawing a gasp from you. His hands skim down your sides, a slow, lazy exploration. But you can feel the tension in his body, the way he's holding himself back, waiting for you to pull him closer, to give in completely to him.

Joshua: Joshua steps toward you, his gentle eyes now filled with dark clouds, with lust, love and longing. His fingers brush against your cheek, his touch too soft for the way his smirk is beginning to form. "If you're sure..." his voice trails off, as if giving you one last chance to reconsider, but the glint in his eyes tells you he already knows your answer. Then, before you can react, he's pushing you back onto the bed, hovering over you in an instant, caging you in beneath him. His lips crash onto yours, slow but demanding, as his teeth graze your lower lip, a light bite before he deepens the kiss. His hands slide under your blouse, fingertips tracing over your skin exploring every little definition. "You feel so warm," he murmurs, his lips now trailing down your jaw, your neck. "I've been waiting for this." His voice is smooth, restrained but utterly consuming.

Jun: Jun's lips curl into a teasing smile, but there's a pretty undeniable sharpness in his gaze. "Is that what you want?" His voice is smooth, almost playful, but there’s a darkness underneath—to say the least, it’s possessive. You nod, barely breathing as he steps closer, your bodies now only inches apart. He watches you carefully, like a predator watching its prey. "Say it," he demands, his fingers gripping your waist. "I want to hear you say it" Once the words leave your lips, the atmosphere shifts. The teasing glint in his eyes fades into more serious. Then, in one swift move, he pushes you back against the wall, his hand tilting your chin up before his lips crash into yours. His kisses are intense, his other hand sliding down, unbuttoning your shirt one-handed with an ease that makes your breath hitch. "You make it too easy for me" he murmurs against your lips, before pressing another deep kiss to them, his grip tightening ever so slightly, just enough to make you shiver.

Hoshi: His grin shifts into something raw immediately. His fingers brush against your arm before trailing up to your collarbone, his touch feather-light but burning all the same. "You want that, huh?" His voice is teasing, but there's a weight behind it. His smirk grows as he watches you, waiting, savoring your reaction. You barely have time to respond before he's stepping forward, walking you back until the back of your legs hit the bed. "Sit," he instructs, voice low. You obey, heart hammering as he crawls onto the mattress, kneeling before you. He leans in, close enough that you can feel his breath on your lips but not quite kissing you yet. His hands slide over your thighs, slow, deliberate. Then, with a smirk, he says, "Take it off." When you hesitate slightly flustered cause of his so forward reaction, his fingers tilt your chin up. "Oh, come on," he coaxes. "Don't get shy on me now," he says as a low chuckle escapes him, his fingers trail down your arm. "I want to see you," his lips brushing against your ear, gaze never wavers, as he leans in just a little closer, his warmth pulling you in like gravity.

Wonwoo: His face remains impassive at first, but there's a shift in the air. His fingers graze your arm, soft yet searing. "If we do this, it's not just a step... it's a leap," he says, his voice a quiet storm. He leans in, lips hovering just over your skin, breath warm and intoxicating. "You sure you want to cross that line with me?" There's something about the way he says it—low, deliberate, a dare wrapped in restraint that makes you want him even more. His grip on your wrist tightens slightly, just enough to make you gasp. But then you nod. And suddenly, there's no hesitation. His mouth crashes onto yours, ferocity unraveling between you both in waves. He lifts you effortlessly, pressing you against the nearest surface as his lips trail down your neck, fingers tracing paths of fire along your skin. "You have no idea what you've just started," he whispers, voice thick with lust and danger. Your breath hitches as his grip tightens, anchoring you against him. His teeth graze your pulse point, a teasing scrape before his tongue soothes the sting, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. His hands roam lower, fingers pressing into your hips with just enough force to make you shiver. "You still have time to change your mind," he murmurs, though the way his body molds against yours tells a different story. His eyes lock onto yours, waiting for the final word that will unravel everything between you.

Woozi: Woozi doesn't react immediately, but the way his body stills speaks volumes. His eyes flicker with something intimate yet laced with danger. Slowly, he steps forward, erasing the space between you until your breaths are mingling. "You sure?" His voice carries a weight that sinks into your skin. His fingers brush against your waist, tentative at first, but when you don't pull away, his grip tightens. "I'll be gentle... but you'll feel every bit of me." It's a promise that makes your pulse stutter. Then, with no warning, he moves. His hands find your hips as he pushes you down onto the mattress, hovering over you, his smirk barely visible in the dim light. "You knew what you were doing when you said that," he murmurs, his lips tracing down your jaw. His body presses against yours, liquid seeping through the fabric of your underwear. "No going back now." His fingers trail along the hem of your shirt, teasing, testing, before slipping beneath the material, his touch searing against your skin. His lips follow the path of his hands, leaving ghostly kisses down your neck, over your collarbone, marking every inch as his own. The heat between you coils tighter, your heartbeat matching his as he meets your gaze and in the next second, the last barrier on you is gone.

Dokyeom: Kyeom blinks, as if processing your words, and for a split second, you see flashes in his eyes—excitement, hesitation and hunger beneath it all. His hands find your shoulders, grounding both of you, as he exhales slowly. "If we do this..." he swallows, his voice dropping an octave, "...I won't ever go back." His grip tightens just slightly, enough to make your breath hitch. "I trust you, but I want to make sure you trust me too." His lips brush against your ear, his voice a whisper, soft yet laced that makes your stomach coil. The moment you give him the green light, the hesitation vanishes. In one swift movement, he throws himself at you, knocking you onto the bed with a breathless laugh that quickly turns into something more heavier. His hands explore, his touch reverent but eager. "You don't even realize what you've done to me," he murmurs against your skin before his mouth captures yours completely.

Mingyu: Mingyu's smile falters—not in hesitation, but in something else entirely. The puppy boyishness drains away, replaced by something raw. His fingers find the curve of your neck, trailing down slowly, deliberately, as he tilts his head. "You sure you're not playing around, are you?" His voice is softer than expected, but there's a warning. He steps closer, so close that your bodies almost touch, and the air between you grows heavier. His thumb brushes against your bottom lip before he leans in, capturing your mouth in a deep kiss. His hands grip your waist, firm yet careful. "I'll make sure you're okay," he breathes against your lips, "but once we do this... it's just us. No second thoughts." His body presses against yours, his warmth intoxicating. "I'm not going back." Then, with a smirk that's nothing short of sinful, he adds, "And if you think I'm stopping anytime soon... you're sorely mistaken." Before you can react, he moves swiftly and unrelenting, pinning you beneath him that steals your breath. His lips find yours again, demanding and feverish, his hands roaming memorizing every inch of you. "You started this," he murmurs against your skin, his voice a husky whisper. "Now, let me finish it."

Minghao: Minghao's eyes darken, his composed exterior cracking just enough to let something else slip through. He tilts his head, watching you carefully, calculating every flicker of emotion in your face, "Sure." His fingers brush a stray strand of hair from your face, his touch lingering, almost possessive. He lets the silence stretch, watching your reaction, waiting for that final confirmation. Then, when he sees the resolve in your eyes, his lips curve into a slow smirk. "You sure you're ready for this?" His voice drops lower, softer, but it sends a shiver down your spine. "Because I don't do things halfway." His grip tightens on your waist as he pulls you flush against him, his mouth ghosting over yours before finally claiming it in a kiss that leaves no room for hesitation. "Guess we're doing this raw," he mutters against your lips, and the sheer confidence in his tone makes your breath hitch. He draws back slightly, eyes dark with lust and a hint of playful mischief. "Hope your pill work, sweetheart. Because pulling out isn't exactly my strong suit." He punctuates his words with a sharp nip at your bottom lip, followed by a sensual swipe of his tongue.

Seungkwan: Seungkwan's expression shifts from surprise to darkness, his brightness dimming into something far more intense. His eyes narrow, a slow smirk playing at the edges of his lips. "So, you really want this?" His voice is teasing, but laced with an intensity that mirrors the dark undercurrent of the situation. He steps forward, crowding into your space, his fingers skimming over your waist with a feather-light touch that makes you shiver. "You know there's no going back once I start indulging, right?" His voice dips lower as he presses his lips to yours, slow at first, teasing until his grip tightens, pulling you flush against him. His breath is hot against your skin when he speaks again, his fingers tracing patterns along your sides. "Don't look at me like that unless you're ready to take everything I'm about to give you."

Vernon: For a moment, Vernon just looks at you, his eyes searching for yours, as if giving you one last chance to take it back. But then, something shifts—his gaze softens, but the flicker of danger remains, a smoldering heat beneath the surface. "So... we're doing this for real?" His voice is low, yet it reverberates through you. His fingers brush against your cheek, barely touching, before sliding down to tilt your chin up toward him. "I won't rush you. But if this happens..." He pauses, leaning in so his lips ghost over yours, his breath warm against your skin. "You're not going to forget it." He seals his promise with a kiss, His lips move against yours slowly at first, teasing, testing, like he’s savoring the anticipation crackling between you. But then, his grip tightens on your hips, pulling you flush against him, and all restraint shatters. The kiss deepens, turning hungrier, more demanding, his tongue sweeping against yours. His hands roam, tracing over your back, slipping under your shirt, fingertips grazing heated skin. "You have no idea what you’ve just started," he murmurs against your lips. Then, in one swift motion, he guides you back, your body sinking into the mattress as he hovers over you. His gaze locks onto yours, "Last chance," he says, his fingers trailing down your arm, his weight pressing just enough to keep you beneath him. "Tell me you want this." His breath fans over your lips, waiting. But the moment you whisper yes, everything else disappears.

Dino: For once, Dino hesitates. His energy is tempered. His eyes search yours, his hands settling at your sides. "Are you sure?" His voice is quieter than usual, lacking its playfulness, yet there's an undeniable intensity there. You nod, and the hesitation melts away, replaced by hunger. His grip tightens as he pulls you in, his forehead resting against yours for just a second like he's holding onto the last thread of control he has. "If we do this..." He swallows, his voice husky now, "It changes everything. You get that?" But the second you whisper yes, it's over. The restraint snaps, and he's on you. His lips capturing yours in a kiss that's all consuming, his hands exploring, pressing, claiming. "Too late to back out now," he mutters against your lips before pushing you down, his body following right after. He pins your wrists above your head, one hand holding them together while his other trails down. "Fuck, you're sexy when you look at me like that..." His voice trails off as he leans in, kissing along your jawline, then nipping at your earlobe. He releases one of your wrists to unbuckle his belt, smirking wickedly as he slowly unzips his pants and freeing his large, hard erection. He grips it firmly, giving it a slow stroke as he looks down at you with pure hunger and lust. "Last chance to back out, baby. After I'm inside you, there's no turning back."

183 notes · View notes

rafesslxt · 2 days ago

Text

unknown number

pt. 1/2

SUMMARY: not only you are surprised when you get a drunk text from your brother that you should pick him up from a party - Topper's just as shocked as you are.

WARNINGS: Thornton!reader, brothers best friend trope, bickering, tension, quick deep talk with Topper

WORD COUNT: 1,7k

NOTE: english is not my first language | thank‘s to everyone for reading and supporting, comments and - are highly apprecaiated <3

🥥 🍋‍🟩 𓇼 ⋆｡˚ 𓆝⋆｡˚ 𓇼 🥭 🍍

Your body tried to make its way through the sweaty crowd dancing and drinking around you, the air thick with the scent of weed and expensive perfume. This wasn't on your agenda for tonight, getting your drunk brother out of a party, that's for sure.

"Hey sis, can u get me? I'm drunk as hell."

You weren't surprised, though. After Sarah had ditched him for John B, which was more than understandable for you but hey – Topper never wanted to listen to your advice, he seemed to try drowning the pain and hurt ego away by drinking and smoking.

The house you currently were in was familiar to you. Since Sarah's your best friend you spend a lot of time here but never during these party's, cause most of the time Rafe was the host and well - let's just say you tried to avoid any chance of being in a room with him together.

Because besides the hatred for their sister's trying to live the pogue life, Topper and Rafe had one thing more in common. They fell for the sister of their best friend. The only problem was, that Rafe never acted on his feeling. While Topper may be a complete idiot, he at least showed Sarah some kind of feelings, trying to wrap her around his fingers. But for Rafe? Bickering and hating was his way.

But Rafe apparently had a new way of drawing you into his space.

"Hey, did you see Topper?" You asked a guy which's name you could never remember no matter how often your brother tried to tell you. You just knew he often hang with them together. "No, sorry. Ask Rafe, he was with him a while ago." You instantly rolled your eyes but smiled at him and nodded in a way that was supposed to tell him 'thank you'.

You made your way further through the people until you reached the living room where you saw Rafe sitting on the couch, talking to two girls on either side of him.

Not bothering that you may interrupted something, you walked up behind him, not even caring enough to wait until he might realize you were standing behind him. "Have you seen my brother? He told me to come pick him up."

You looked down at his head which bend until it laid against the backrest, his pretty blue eyes meeting yours. Pretty ? No, you meant blue. Just blue.

"Oh If it isn't the princess of the Pogues, gracing us with her presence this night.", his voice dripped with sarcasm. "And to what do we owe this unexpected visit?" You rolled your eyes at his irritating words and crossed your arms in front of your chest. "Did you see Topper, Rafe?", you repeated.

His smile widened before he sat upright again, took a beer that was probably his from the desk, turned around and locked eyes with you again, walking around the couch towards you.

"Someone's in a grumpy mood today." he remarked, taking a sip of his beer. "Rafe If you don't-" "No need to be so uptight princess. The party just stared." You scoffed. "Well, apparently not If my brother's texting me to come pick his drunk ass up."

"Give him some time, he's trying to heal from a heartbreak. I mean I told him my sister is never hanging around for long but- well you know him. Had to try for himself."

You were slowly getting tired of the conversation and Rafe seemed to notice. "And as for where your brother is; I saw him with Kelce in the kitchen a few minutes ago. Just before you arrived, I think."

Without giving him a second more of your time, you turned around, walking towards the kitchen. Why didn't he just tell you 'Hey, Topper is in the kitchen.' ? Why does he always have to bicker with you and beat around the bush. Ugh.

Sarah always said he liked you but before Rafe Cameron actually had serious feelings for you or even anyone, hell would freeze over.

You walked into the kitchen of the Cameron's, immediately spotting your brother and Kelce, laughing loudly between some shots they were taking.

"Wow. You're really setting the bar lower and lower." You scoffed, making their heads turn towards you. "Y/n? What are you doing here? Aren't you with your little friends?" "Oh, hey pipsqueak." Kelce chuckled from behind Topper, waving at you with a drunken grin.

"Come on Topper, I don't have all night." I sighed, already about to leave the kitchen when he looked at me as If I had torn apart his favorite teddy bear apart that he hid under his bed whenever someone came over. "What the hell are you talking about?" "What the hell do you mean what the hell I'm talking about? You texted me to come pick you up because you're too drunk."

Just as he was about to answer, Rafe entered the kitchen and stood beside you. "Topper, why don't you listen to your sister and go with her, you've had enough for tonight."

Feeling betrayed, Topper was too stunned to speak, looking at Kelce for some backup. "Hey man don't get me into this." he replied to his look, throwing up his hands and spilling some of the liquid that was inside his shot glass.

"I didn't text you!" he exclaimed, reached into his pocket and searching for his phone. "Shit.. can't find it." You rolled your eyes, your patience slowly but clearly wearing off. "Topper.." "I swear I didn't!", he swore while continuing to search the insides of his few pockets. "Damn no really, where is it?", he asked himself.

"Come on man." Kelce chuckled and threw an arm around his friend, slowly guiding him outside the kitchen and towards the front door where you parked your car.

You stepped aside to let them pass, your gaze landing on Rafe who was already looking at you, licking his bottom lip before speaking. "Here." He reached into his pocket and handed you Topper's phone. "What? Why do you have my brother's phone ?", you asked him, as It didn't hit you yet what was going in.

"Thought he might need someone to pick him up before he would be a complete mess.", he chuckled, shrugging his shoulders and looking away for a short moment.

Your eyebrows shot up as the realization finally hit you."You texted me to come pick him up? Why would you do that?" He chuckled and looked down at you. " Like I said; I was worried about my friend." "Bullshit.", you called him out right away. "If you were worried about him, you would have told me where he was instead of beating around the bush."

"Just wanted some conversation." he replied simply, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. You took a deep breath and closed your eyes while doing so, trying not to let him get under your skin. It would only please him.

"Good night, Rafe." you smiled at him before turning around and pushing through sweaty crowd again, reaching your car where Kelce and Topper were already waiting for you.

You pressed the little button on your car key, allowing them to get in while you were still a few meters away. Kelce jumped into the back seat, and Topper settled next to you in the front.

You slid behind the wheel and closed your door, glancing over your shoulder at Topper’s friend. “Should I drive you home too?” you asked, reaching for your seatbelt and securing it right after.

“Sure thing, pipsqueak,” he grinned, his eyes heavy and his body slumping down onto the back seat. You rolled your eyes for what felt like the hundredth time in the last thirty minutes and started the engine, pulling away from the property.

A few minutes into the drive, you looked over to your right. “You’re lucky. Mom and Dad aren’t home tonight,” you smirked slowly, trying to lighten the mood since he was still your annoying brother. Annoying, but family.

A scoff escaped his lips as he stared out the window. “As if they’re ever home.”

You sighed quietly, shrugging your shoulders. “Well, it’s still better than having to explain why you’re drunk and high.”

“They wouldn’t understand anyway. They never do. All they do is scream and complain. They don’t care.” He turned his head toward you, studying your face. “But honestly, I don’t know which one of us they’re more disappointed in,” he chuckled.

“Yeah… Mom’s worried I’m drinking myself into a coma, while Dad is worried you’ll run off with Maybank or some other pogue.” The car fell silent for a moment before you both erupted into unexpected laughter.

"Honestly, I don’t know which one is worse,” you giggled, gripping the wheel a little tighter as you turned onto your street. "Not sure who's setting the bar lower now, huh?" Topper smirked.

“I guess we should take him with us tonight before his parents have a heart attack,” you suggested, nodding toward Kelce, who was snoring in the back seat.

“Yeah…” he glanced at his friend and then back at you. “Thank you for picking me up, even though I didn’t text you. It’s good to know I can still count on you.” He smiled softly at you, placing his hand on your shoulder.

"No problem, Topper." you smiled back at him before turning off your car and finally parked in your garage. "Let‘s get him inside.", you grinned, eager to get out like Topper, when your phone suddenly vibrated in your purse.

Hm, probably the pogues asking If everything‘s alright after you left so quick with only telling them it‘s an 'family emergency'.

You opened your little white purse Sarah had given you on your last birthday and rummaged through it, fishing out your phone. You had a few messages from JJ and Sarah, asking you when - wait.

What was that? A message by an unknown number.

unknown number

i took the liberty of grabbing your number while I had the chance to.

was nice seeing you tonight, hot and bothered like always..

sweets dreams, angel.

xx rafe

That son of a - wait, why were you smiling together with your heart beating faster ?

masterlist | taglist | navigation | valentines day special

tags: @supernaturaldawning @cardibre91 @aegonsslxt @juliet-017

xoxo sarah <3

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron smut #rafe camaron fluff #rafe cameron oneshot #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron blurb #drew starkey #drew starkey oneshot #drew starkey fluff #drew starkey x reader #outer banks oneshots #outer banks drabble

197 notes · View notes

obsidianpen · 2 days ago

Note

I'm cheeky snippet anon. I was particularly hoping for a glimpse of the Draco pov in B&G but I'm a fan of all your fics I'll take any snippet and be incredibly grateful 😍 or I'll take nothing and be grateful too! Thanks for writing!

“Floor two, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement,” announced the cool, female voice.

Draco rushed out of the lift as soon as the doors opened. A few interdepartmental memos flanked him before fluttering off in different directions.

He knew his way around, having come here with his father on more than a few excursions, so Draco made his way to the Auror offices quickly. He kept his head down. He avoided making eye contact with anyone, and somehow managed not to draw attention to himself.

He heard him before he saw him.

Draco was just passing one of the large sections of walled-off cubicles when the much too familiar sound of Potter’s voice reached his ears. “...feels like a Friday, you know?”

“You said that yesterday, Harry.”

Weasley. After glancing quickly up and down the narrow hall he found himself in, which was, blessedly, empty at the moment, Draco made a split-second decision. He pressed himself up against the wall of what must have been Potter’s cubicle and eaves-dropped.

“It does, though. Feels like this week has dragged on forever already.”

“I know. It’s the paperwork.”

“It’s always the paperwork. I’m losing my damn mind.”

Perhaps you made a grievous error in your career choice, Potter, Draco thought amusedly.

“You might have made a bad career choice, then,” said Weasley. Draco glowered. It sounded much less funny coming from him.

“Yeah, well, at least you’re stuck in it with me.”

“Don’t think I’m not considering quitting every time a new case to file gets dropped on us. George said his door is always open.”

“You’re not allowed to quit. You’re nowhere near funny enough to help run a joke shop. You’d ruin his business, and then my Triwizard Tournament winnings will have gone entirely to waste.”

There was theatrical sigh followed swiftly by a banging sound, which was then followed by some swearing and some good-natured laughter. Draco rolled his eyes. He was about to turn the corner and finally announce his presence when Potter spoke again.

“It’s… Today is Hermione’s birthday, you know.”

Draco froze and held his breath. Her birthday? Today was her bloody birthday?

“...Yeah. I know.”

A stretch of silence so uncomfortable that even Draco felt awkward. More awkward than he already did, at any rate.

“I, er. I owled her, Asking her to meet me out later. I think she will.”

You think incorrectly, Potter, Draco thought darkly.

“Yeah? That’s… Good. That’s good.”

“I told her I got her something. A gift.”

“That is traditionally what one does on someone’s birthday, yes.”

Potter sighed even more dramatically than before. “It’s you. You’re the gift. You and a giant, heartwarming, much-needed apology speech. You’re coming with me to the Three Broomsticks, and we are finally going to hash this whole thing out and move past it. Okay?”

Draco had to cover his mouth to prevent the awful laughter that threatened to escape. Weasley? Potter was bringing Weasley to Granger, as a present? Her estranged ex-boyfriend? To hash out his cheating behavior from over a year ago?

Wherever she was, Draco was certain that Granger would feel nothing but relief knowing she had missed out on this birthday surprise. She’d probably prefer to be ripped apart by the turbulence of time-travel, really.

“I… what?” Weasley said weakly.

Draco decided he’d heard more than enough. Granger would not be meeting anyone out for birthday drinks, because Granger was likely in mortal peril, stranded in the wrong decade, and that was looking at things optimistically. Channeling all the dignity he could manage, Draco straightened his posture, fixed a contemptuous look on his face, and turned the corner to reveal himself.

“Potter,” he said stiffly.

It worked too well.

As it happened, Potter was leaning back slightly in his chair, lifting the two front legs off the ground. Upon the unanticipated arrival of Draco Malfoy in his cubicle, he startled so badly he yelped and kicked the chair right over, sending himself tumbling backwards to the floor–and good thing, too, because he also happened to have his wand in his hand. A bright yellow spark shot from its tip, missing Malfoy by a distressingly small amount as he fell and striking an interdepartmental memo mid-flight instead. The little paper airplane promptly exploded in a burst of golden confetti.

“Hope that wasn’t important,” Draco said drily, not allowing the panic of nearly being hit by a hex show on his face.

“WHAT THE FUCK, MALFOY?”

“FUCKING HELLS!”

Both Potter and Weasley yelled at the same time. Potter–in a move that was, admittedly, impressive–had turned his fall into a sort of tumble-roll, and was back on his feet in a flash, his wand aimed much more precisely on Draco’s face. Weasley had pulled his wand out as well, and now that Draco looked around properly, he saw that there were at least five other wizards and witches who had popped their heads up over the cubicle wall, all of which were now doing the same, looking alarmed.

Probably wasn’t the brightest idea, spooking a bunch of aurors, Draco admitted in the privacy of his mind.

#Blood and gold #snippet #tomione #even though there is no Tom nor Hermione present

45 notes · View notes

cod-indulgences · 7 hours ago

Note

currently feeling ugh with my body again.. could you write small boobs chubby reader (it me) receiving some love with any of the men pls? 🥺🥺

Kyle Garrick x female!reader, insecure!reader, body image issues, low self esteem, small breasts!reader, chubby!reader, tits man Kyle Garrick, angst, fluff, fingering, breast worship, overstimulation, fingering

anon you and others sent me similar asks. this is me too, writing this felt very cathartic and I love you for sending this in. I hope it helps you!.......it's also over 3K

You wouldn't call yourself shy, just....practical. No need to draw more attention to your assets, or lack thereof.

Being fat was sexy, if you were a specific kind of fat. Men didn't come running for apron bellies or thick thighs, if there weren't big, lush tits to balance them out. And even while your flesh had expanded, growing around you like Saturn's rings, your breasts had stayed small. Clothes were a nightmare, and you got in the habit early of wearing crop tops instead of actual bras, wanting to avoid the discomfort of underwrire digging into your belly when you had to bend and move.

And then you met Gaz.

Your crush was inevitable and all-encompassing. He shone like the sun to you, even with that dumb hat, and you were left sighing over him in private. It stayed private though, because one of the first things you'd heard him proudly announce was that he was a tits guy- and your heart had sunk to your shoes. You'd known those sort of men, glancing past you for a woman with cleavage, with the sort of breasts that filled lingerie and bounced enticingly.

So when he started flirting with you- unmistakable flirting, innuendoes slipped in with coffee and invitations to dinner, compliments on your hair and clothes- you decided to take what you could get, as long as you could get it. It might just be a way to fill time for him, but you were so pathetically gone on this man that even the scraps handed out until someone with proper curves came through felt like a feast.

So you accepted the compliments and dinner invitations, kissed Gaz in your doorway and pushed aside the creeping discomfort as his hands curved around your back, your belly bumped up against him before your tits did. You could take this much. Even when the kisses got heated, his tongue slipping against yours and drawing lines down your neck, you kept your clothes on, a barrier to hold off the inevitable let down. You could handle him eventually finding someone better, you couldn't handle his face twisted up in disappointment at the sight of your body.

So when you got bold after a couple drinks and sat in his lap, let his hands rise up and cup your tits through your shirt, you didn't expect the shuddering moan Gaz released into your shoulder, the little "fuck, baby" and how it went straight through to your core. His hand squeezed and you whined a little, nipple perking up as he thumbed across it.

"Gaz- Gaz, wait, shit," you stutter, and he licks across your throat, his mouth lingering at the neckline of your shirt.

He squeezes again, and you moan a little yourself. It's like nothing you've ever felt touching yourself, or the handful of boys you'd slept with, ages ago.

"So sexy, so fucking hot," he says, and it's like cold water down your back.

"Gaz, wait- no, stop!" You push at his shoulders and he goes back, frowning when you climb off his lap. This is worse than disappointment. "I don't- don't fucking lie to me!" You feel too hot, shame burning your cheeks. "Don't give me that shit! I thought you at least liked me enough to not- to not do this-" You try not to let any tears fall. You don't want to cry.

He's just sitting here, staring at you like he's confused. "What? What are you talking about? What lies?" He says, and it's too much.

"The fucking- the sexy shit! Like this- like I'm something you want- just, I'd rather you leave, ok? Just go, and we can pretend it never happened." You sit on the far end of your couch, arms wrapped around yourself. You don't want to look at him, and when he stands up, your mouth trembles. Don't cry. Don't cry.

You expect him to go to the door. Instead he crouches in front of you, and takes your hands in his. You don't stop him.

"Baby," he says, and oh fuck that hurts. "Why do you think I'm lying?" He looks so fucking sad. Big dark eyes and his cheeks are still flushed, and he'd been smiling at you when you took his hand and brought it to your chest.

You can't look him in the eye while you lay it all out. "I know I'm not- not what you want. Or like. And you're my friend and I l-like you, a lot, but you can't do this. You can't say this shit and pretend it's true when I'm the one you're saying it to. I know better. People like me don't get to be sexy." His hand cups your cheek, and brushes away the release that managed to slip out. "So you can go, and I'm sorry it went this way, but I can't sit here while you're wishing I had the curves I know you want."

Gaz doesn't leave, or move away, and when you dare to glance at him you get shocked to see his eyes are wet. His other hand let's go of yours to cup your other cheek, and he leans in to kiss your forehead. "If I ever," he says, and kisses your eyelid, "meet any of the fuckers who told you things like that," your other eyelid, oh, your heart, "I'm going to kill them." He kisses your lips, soft, and you whimper at the tenderness of it.

"You, just as you are, are so sexy to me- no, stop," and he holds your face to look at him instead of away. "I don't know who started you thinking I want tits more than you-"

"You did!" You burst out. "You say it all the time, talking with the soldiers, about how you love a nice set of tits on a woman, how the breasts are the best part, whatever else, it's practically a catchphrase." The words are bitter in your mouth. "And I'm not just the fat girl, I'm the bad kind of fat, without anything good to balance out the bad. That's just how I am, and I thought I would be okay with the dates and the flirting, because I knew it wouldn't last anyway. But I'm not, and I'm sorry I wasted your time, and just....I just..."

He looks surprised, and then upset again. "No, baby, no. I'm sorry. I didn't know it would- sound like that. Look, okay yes, I love breasts, always will, but don't you get it's not about them being big for me? I don't care what size. I just," he laughs, a little incredulous, "I like tits. Big or small, whatever, they're all fucking awesome!"

You yank his hands away and he falls back on his ass, surprised. "Not like me! Not when the little ones are on top of, of all this!" You grab your stomach and shake it, flesh bouncing, a reminder of just what you carry. "I haven't been little anywhere it matters since I was fucking twelve."

Now he's standing up, looming over you. "Okay, first of all- you think I'm that fucking shallow? That all I want in a woman is how she looks? Fuck you." You swallow, suddenly ashamed. "And two, if you think you're that unattractive, you need to open your eyes. If you'd put your weight down on me properly instead of hovering like I was gonna break, you'd have known just how sexy I find you." He cups his hand over his groin, and you stutter, too close to eye level where his fingers outline a thick, heavy shape. You had been hovering, uneasy at sitting fully on his lap, when he'd sucked on your neck and touched your chest. Gaz boxes you in, hands on the back of the couch, and puts his face up close to yours. "If you tell me to go because you don't like me, then I'll go. But I'm not leaving just because you think I'm going to be fucking disappointed at seeing more of the body I've been jerking off over for fucking weeks."

His mouth crashes into yours, and you moan, all tangled up with emotions, shame and desire, the embers of lust fanned when he sucks on your tongue. He's big and strong around you, the smell of his skin and soap filling your nose, and when Gaz encourages you to turn and lay flat you obey. He settles over you, his hips wedged between yours, and you both moan together when he hitches up a little and rubs up against you. Two layers of pants mean you can't feel much, but it's enough, and he does it again as you mouth shakily at his cheek, sucking on his earlobe. It's messy and a little high strung, and your eyes are still teary when Gaz lifts his hand to your chest and waits until you swallow hard and nod. His fingertips are gentle, tracing the curve of your breast until they find your nipple again, and you fight down the wave of shame as you see how his whole hand covers you. Barely enough for a handful, that just can't be what he wants, you're not enough- but he's looking at you with such dark, hot eyes, and when you whine a little as his fingers start to play with your nipple, you see his pupils dilate. Fuck.

"No bra?" He murmurs, and pinches just a little through the fabric of your top, just enough to make you squirm under him.

"No," you gasp, "just a shirt and a- a crop top thing, I never wear them," and he moans a little, a soft fuck that he breathes out before suddenly getting his mouth onto your other breast.

You squeak, it's hot and wet, his tongue working your nipple through the thin fabric, and your thighs open up a little more as he grinds against you. He's just- he's enthusiastic, pinching and sucking, pressed up against your body from head to hip. There's a warm liquid lust pooling in your belly, and your chest heaves as you gasp for breath. You can feel him now, no hovering, hot and hard up between your legs.

Suddenly your clothes are too much after all. You push his shoulders, and as Gaz sits back tug at his shirt, yanking the collar up over his head until he starts helping. He's gorgeous, full pecs with little dark nipples that perk up under your fingers, the muscles of his abdomen flexing when you gently trace along his iliac crest, a little shivering twitch going through the flesh. His cock is bulging out his pants, and you picture it sheathed inside you and feel your pussy gush a little.

Gaz sets his hands at the hem of your shirt, and you clench at the heat in his eyes. You're trying, you're dizzy with arousal and so turned on you can't speak, but there's still fear there. But he's so, so sweet, and you want it so bad, and nod helplessly for him to draw the fabric up and away.

Your bra-top comes away with the shirt, and you don't even have time to cover yourself before Gaz has your hands in his, fingers intertwined, and he's fucking moaning over you. "Baby, fuck, if you knew how fucking luscious you look," and he's diving back into you, eating the moans that slip from your lips as he gets both hands on your tits.

Small, too small, but he gropes and squeezes them, letting the flesh fill his palms, tugging your nipples between his fingers. He releases your mouth and goes down again to suck fully on one nipple, and you shout, the sensation of hot-wet suction so much more intense without fabric in the way.

"Fuck, baby, yes- just like that, c'mon," he mumbles around your tit, and you realize you're grinding against his cock. Your pussy clenches and you moan, trying to lift your hips up, aching for something you can't get while you're both still half-dressed. Gaz's skin is silky smooth against yours, sweating, and you squirm a hand between your bodies to pull at the button of his jeans. Two fingers slip in and you manage to rub the base of his cock, feeling the heavy flesh and the heat, and he swears again and grinds up harder.

You're going to leave a wet spot, you realize, and the Gaz dares to oh-so-gently bite down, teeth scraping your nipple, and you feel your body turn to jelly.

It's so good, so hot, like nothing you've ever had. Forget body image or shame, you're reduced to broken moans and begging, you're fucking begging, and Gaz works your pants open blindly to shove a hand down. His fingers scrape past your pubic hair and then he's suddenly there, everything hot-wet-slick, your clit bumping against the heel of his hand as he slips a fingertip against your hole. Then two fingers, sliding in, and he groans so hard against your breast that you can feel the vibrations in your heartbeat.

"So wet, baby, so wet, all for me? All this from these sweet little tits getting the love they deserve?" He grinds his palm in and starts fucking you on his fingers. You can hear the wet sloppy sounds, and it only makes you clench, whining. Your other nipple aches where he's been plucking at it, and when he moves his mouth there instead, you shout and clamp down. "Fuuuuck, fuck baby do that again-" He bites this nipple, and you obey and let your pussy contract on his fingers, perfect and not enough.

You blearily look down and see your chest, Gaz's dark head pillowed on you, his lips sucking at the peak of your tit. Your other breast is littered with little red marks from his facial hair, your nipple swollen and red, and it's so erotic and sensual you can't breathe. Suddenly your tits are sexy, plump little things with sensitive nipples and soft round bottoms, your belly and sides tingling as Gaz drags his fingers over your flesh, groping, yanking at your pants to give himself room to get a handful of your ass. Your hips jerk up, and your moaning climbs in pitch as the instinct takes over, chasing a high that is so close it hurts- truly hurts, your clit throbbing and pussy squeezing where his fingers keep pumping in and out of you.

Gaz lifts his head, holding your nipple in his teeth as he tugs, and his big hot eyes hold your gaze as your mouth drops open on a moan that doesn't end, spiraling up and up as your nipples ache and pussy squeezes, a long hard clench, before it finally breaks into an orgasm that leaves you shaking and limp, sobbing in relief, the new gush of slick around Gaz's fingers dripping over his hand and wrist.

Your voice comes back in stops and starts. "Fuck- fuck, Gaz, oh God, please, I can't- can't-" because he's still fucking you, sitting up to stare at his hand between your legs, pants and panties shoved down your thighs, and you're aware of the bounce of your flesh. The old fear tries to crawl back up, but Gaz is working is cock out of his pants, and you gape at him. He's huge, thick and heavy, so hard he's wet at the tip. When his hand slows you shove at your clothes, trying to get the twisted fabric out of the way.

"You don't have to," he starts, but you kick a leg free and hook it over his hip, pushing his jeans down with your heel.

"I want to," you gasp, and help him guide the tip of his cock to your hole.

Your mind is a little more clear now, and you take the chance to memorize Gaz's face as he slides into you, how his eyes close and mouth falls open, the soft moaning sounds. He's a stretch, and you're slick as sin, you make it work. He hitches up your hips, and you breathe deeply to relax your muscles, and suddenly he's there, all the way in, an ache in your cunt and your clit as thin flesh rearranges around him. Gaz drops his head to your shoulder, braced on one elbow, and his free hand comes up again to cup your breast, squeezing and lifting the nipple up for a kiss.

You get a kiss too, hot and sweet, and moan into his mouth when he finally starts moving.

You're sore and sensitive, whining at each bump of your clit against his groin, as he picks up speed and starts really fucking you- the couch creaks and your thighs open as wide as they can under the onslaught- he's so big, almost too big, and you gasp and tell him this, making him whine in return.

"So big," you say again, and feel his hips stutter. "Gaz, fuck-"

"Say it again," he moans, and you yelp as he sucks again on your nipple, harder, pinching the other and tugging until your back arches.

"Fuck! Fuck, Gaz, you're too big, fucking my- my little cunt-" he grunts and slams in harder, fuck, "god, please, please don't stop, I'm gonna come again!"

Gaz fucks his cock into you like a machine, wet squelches echoing as your pussy clamps down, trying to hold him in, your clit rubbing against his groin and pubic hair, and you come again as he opens his jaw and sucks your whole breast into his mouth- hot-tight-wet, his tongue slurping over your skin, your nipple pulled so tight against the roof of his mouth and your other swollen and pinched under his fingers. You feel the distant gush of your pussy on his cock, the way it's suddenly so much wetter, sloppier, and Gaz shouts into your chest as he slams his hips in and stills, his cock pumping you full of come, grinding up into your dripping cunt to get as deep as possible.

He's heavy on you, but not too much, and as he slows and you both catch your breath you wrap your arms around his shoulders, clinging. There's a fragile feeling in your chest, under the sweat and aches and tingling skin, and your wordless begging for kisses against his head brings him up to you. He's as gentle as you are, slow and sweet, and the fragility firms, settles.

Gaz chuckles a little against your mouth, and when you hum a question at him, he answers, "I had a whole plan for you. Seduction and shit, take you to a proper fancy place to eat. Get you in an actual bed, especially." You start to laugh as well, seeing the picture you make- you're naked except for socks and your pants and underwear hanging off one ankle, Gaz with his jeans rucked down his thighs and a wet spot on the crotch. Your breasts are swollen and tingling along with your pussy as he gently pulls out, and you wince a little, feeling the aches in your hips and back.

"Not quite what you expected, then?" You tease, but there's a little old shiver down your back.

Bless him, Gaz just lifts your hand to his mouth and kisses your knuckles. "Better than," he says, and holds your eyes with his. "I promise."

It's a heavy moment, and your eyes blink back tears, feeling sweet, precious, so stupid with your previous outbursts in the face of such affection in his eyes- and then your stomach grumbles, and you both burst into giggles. You grin at him. "Is that offer for a fancy dinner on the table still?"

Gaz winks. "Only if I get to have you for dessert after."

#cod #call of duty #kyle gaz garrick #kyle gaz garrick x reader #gaz x reader #kyle garrick x reader #an indulgence

24 notes · View notes

noblest-roman-of-them-all · 2 days ago

Text

You're Not Broken

Janus ends up injured in a bit of a freak accident and Thomas can't help but wonder about the subconscious implications.

This does make reference to Too Soon, which is the conversation that Janus and Thomas had prior to thus incident, but can be read on it's own.

Thomas froze mid step as he trudged down the stairs, staring in fond confusion at Janus, who was lying peacefully asleep, across the top of the blinds.

How Janus had even gotten up there, he'd never know, but it did help narrow down what type of snake he was at least. Vaguely, Thomas wondered if perhaps he had ended up there on accident.

If Janus was indeed arboreal then perhaps in his room somewhere he had a perch he slept on, and had risen up into the living room in his sleep. Kind of like sleep walking but for more or less teleportation. Either way he seemed comfy enough up there, and Thomas's only real concern, as he quietly slipped into the kitchen to make coffe, was if Janus was staying warm enough.

Sure, heat rose, but the ac was on to keep things a little cooler for his own human needs. He did recall something about Janus's day wear being heat reflective so as to help him retain body heat once he was warm and dressed, but he wasn't sure the same could be said of his pajamas. After all, snakes tended to need things cooler to be able to sleep.

He glanced through the little window and out into the living room where Janus was perched. Maybe that had been the reason for the shift? Teleporting in his sleep to find a cooler place to rest? He turned back to his coffee with a thoughtful frown. It didn't matter exactly, he supposed, Janus was resting and that was what was important. It was honestly kind of endearing-

A snap! brought him out of his ponderings and in an instant Janus was on the ground, curling around his arm with a shocked and strangled scream.

Thomas swore under his breath and darted to Janus's side. "It's okay, I'm here," he tried to assure. "Lie back for me, bud, let me see you." The sharp angle his wrist was bent at was enough to make Thomas dizzy.

Janus glanced up through his tears at the blurry figure above him as he was gently pushed onto his back. "What's happening?" he breathed.

"You fell off the blinds," Thomas told him, gently stroking the scales at his temple. "I- I'm pretty sure your wrist is broken. Let me get Logan-"

"Remus!" Janus shouted instead.

The Duke appeared, clearly pulled directly out of bed, and shook his head, trying to reorient himself. "Where's the fire?" he complained, scrubbing his eyes.

"Janus is hurt," Thomas told him.

Remus snapped into action, rushing forward, bodily shoving Thomas out the way to kneel at Janus's side.

"He fell off the blinds," Thomas told him as he picked himself up off the floor.

Remus nodded, taking in Janus's condition in a glance. "Help me get him up," he ordered. "I'll hold his arm still, you get him up and let him lean on you." He gently took Janus's wounded arm in his hand, drawing a sharp gasp from him, and slipped his other under his body, while Thomas did the same. They moved in unison to push Janus into a sitting position and Thomas wrapped his arms around Janus, trying to offer some comfort.

Janus dropped his head back on Thomas's shoulder and gripped his arm with his good hand. Thomas glanced down at the hand on his arm, the strange texture of the skin momentarily distracting him. Wider scales seemed to cover the palm of Janus's hand, while patches of scales like on his face covered the back of his hand. This close he could see the same wider scales covering his throat and going down his chest.

"It's alright," he said softly, leaning his head against Janus's, snapped back to attention by a soft whine. "We gotcha, buddy, it's okay."

Thomas glanced over to find Remus had conjured a first aid kit and a pair of scissors. He watched at Remus carefully cut open the seam of Janus’s sleeve and peeled it back to revealed a deep purple and red mottled bruise that wrapped around his wrist like a bracelet.

Janus whined, fingers biting into Thomas's arm as Remus carefully probed the injury.

"Okay," Remus nodded. "Deep breath for me, Jan-Jan. I'll try to make it quick."

Janus wet his lips and nodded. He closed his eyes and let out a slow deep breath. Thomas ran his thumb back and forth on his chest and rested his other hand over Janus's to try to soothe him.

Janus still screamed, digging his heels into the floor, when Remus set his arm.

"All done," Remus promised. "Worst part is over. Just hold still so I can wrap it up."

Thomas started singing softly when he felt Janus's tears against his jaw, unsure of what else to do to help.

"All done," Remus said again and gently rested Janus's arm in his lap. "You okay?" he asked in a gentle tone that took Thomas by surprise. Even more surprising was the way Remus gently thumbed away his tears. It was a stark contrast to beating Roman over the head and ripping out Logan's teeth.

Janus nodded and leaned into Remus’s hand as he stroked his temple. "Thank you," he sighed. "Both of you."

"Let's get you to bed so you can rest." Remus wormed his arm between Thomas and Janus and tucked the other under his knees then pulled him carefully into his arms and dipped from the room.

Thomas sat on his knees, now stiff beneath him, for a long moment after the pair had disappeared.

"Kiddo?" Patton's soft voice broke the heavy silenced he'd been left in. "You okay?" he asked and knelt at Thomas's side with a hand on his shoulder.

Thomas shook his head. "Y-yeah, I'm- I'm fine."

Patton tucked an arm around his back and helped him to his feet. "What were you doing on the floor?"

"Janus fell off the blinds this morning. I was helping Remus with his arm. It looked like it was broken."

Patton frowned. "I didn't think we could get hurt after…after all that stuff Remus did to Logan."

"I didn't think so either, but…maybe it's different because he just fell and it wasn't something that someone else did to him? I-I dunno. Remus was able to set it and get it wrapped at least, so he'll be okay. I just…I didn't even know that could happen. I, um, I'm gonna check on him later. Let him get some rest for now."

—

Janus sighed at the light tapping on the door. "Come in," he called softly.

"Brought you some hot chocolate," Thomas said as he pushed up the door. "Wanted to see how you were doing after earlier."

"I'm alright." He groaned a little trying to get himself upright and Thomas rushed to his side to help, quickly putting down the mug and tucking an arm around his back.

"Take it easy," Thomas ordered gently. He passed Janus the mug once he was sure he was settled.

"Thanks."

"Did Remus do that?" Thomas asked gesturing to the bright yellow hard cast that now encased Janus scaled wrist.

Janus nodded. "The plus of his fascination with body horror, it makes him excellent at anatomy." He held up the cast. "It was a clean break at least."

Thomas stared at the cast a moment. "How did it happen? I mean, I know it happened, I saw that, but… I mean, Remus hit Logan with that throwing star and it just disappeared and he was fine. I guess I just don't get why your arm didn't heal as fast."

"I don't fully understand it myself, and even if I did it doesn't mean that I would be able to explain it. Suffice to say, Logan's role as Logic does play into it. Think about it, Roman was affected more severely by Remus’s action. Really it wasn't even so much the morning star that did it, it was Remus flicking him during his song, during an imaginative sequence, something that fell directly under both their roles as Creativity. Stories require logic, but logic doesn't inherently require stories, so when injured by Creativity, Logic sees no reason to abide by those rules and so remains largely uninjured."

"…I do get what you're saying and that does make sense, but it doesn't exactly answer my question."

"I don't particularly have an answer. It just is. Even if I did have a real answer chances are that I couldn't explain it or that you'd remember if I could."

"Why wouldn't I remember?" Thomas frowned.

"For the same reason you don't remember the conversation we had a few days ago," Janus told him. "You're not actually ready to accept the information I gave you. Virgil's right, you are the boss and you can know what you want, but I am still directly a part of your subconscious. You can say you want to know something, but if you don't truly want to know then I physically won't be able to tell you. I didn't silence Logan for fun, I silenced him because you needed a push to be truly ready to accept my existence. Because in that moment you weren't ready to hear it. Sometimes I'm silenced myself because you don't want to know things, and sometimes you push things out that you're not actually ready to accept after you've been told."

"I don't think I like the idea of not remembering an entire conversation from just a few days ago," Thomas muttered.

Janus gave a soft look ands set aside his mug to pat his bed. "Sit with me." Thomas complied with a sigh and Janus continued. "Even if you had been open to accepting all the information I gave you then, chances are you still wouldn't remember all of it because it was very late and you were exhausted. Not to mention you can't remember everything and beyond that you can't know everything. No one can know everything about themselves, can know everything in their subconscious. It'd be overwhelming to have all that information in your conscious mind. That's why information is either shut out or processed unconsciously in the first place."

"I mean…I guess that makes sense," Thomas admitted a bit glumly, drawing a smile from Janus, who patted his hand.

"I know it's upsetting, but it does keep you functional, which is, in fact, a large part of my function."

"Is it like…an analogy then or something?"

Janus frowned. "Is what an analogy?"

"Your arm," Thomas answered. "If you're…part of my subconscious…is something...broken about me?"

"Oh, sweetie, no," Janus assured softly. "There are…aspects of myself that are more reflective of you as our whole, but not this. You're not broken, sweetheart."

Thomas nodded, uncertainty making his chest ache a little. "Are you lying because I'm not ready to actually face it?"

"There are things that…need a bit of attention. There are things I can't outright tell you, but that doesn't make you broken. Wounded in some ways, yes, but not broken. I don't necessarily think there's a real reason for this-" he raised his casted hand "- but I suppose if you really wanted one, perhaps it was to get you to see Remus in a different light, or perhaps myself even. You're still getting to know us, still getting used to us." He shrugged. "Who knows? Don't go beating yourself up over it though, alright? You're not broken and this isn't your fault."

Thomas nodded. "Thank, Janus. Are you okay? Do you…need me to bring you anything else?"

"I'll be alright," Janus shook his head. "He's an absolute menace, but Remus actually does do a very good job of taking care of me. He is part of the same person as Patton after all," he winked. "Go on. I know you have things to do today. You can check on me later."

"Alright," Thomas relented. "Let me know if you need anything, though. I'll check on you later."

"I look forward to it," Janus answered with a smile.

#sanders sides #janus sanders #c!thomas #remus sanders #sanders sides fic #my writing

21 notes · View notes

lych33dragoncookie · 2 days ago

Text

Chatting around a bit with my partner, something clicked for me.

Okay, I guess I'm making a semi-detailed Eternal Sugar analysis post before the Shadow Milk one? odd, but that's because honestly it's gotten to a point where I would rather wait for the APV update before doing anything with him (partially because i wanna get the chance to go on my high horse about how all the SMC redemption hype was horrendously misguided and never likely to come to fruition), so I might as well dump out some thoughts related to Eternal Sugar, considering she's logically up next after Shadow Milk and before SIlent Salt.

... So we all agree she was the previous Sugar Swan or something of the sort, right?

Kind of a wild thing to put out when we know so little, but what little we do know is more than enough to place a firm connection.

First, something I IMMEDIATELY noticed that stuck out to me while I was looking around at the Earthbread map.

They are right. Next. To each other. The Forgotten Sugar Paradise is not all that far north from the Dessert Paradise. And, what is it that we can find inside Dessert Paradise, at least back in Ovenbreak's continuity?

The Eternal Sweetness. Ignoring the fact we've not seen it outside of how it looks when Black Sugar Swan has it, the general role of the Eternal Sweetness is to keep Dessert Paradise as well. A paradise. A place where nothing needs to hunt for food, nothing dies, everything just kind of perpetually lives forever in harmony and peace.

Now, I hopefully don't need to tell you that this thing being called the Eternal Sweetness raises an eyebrow when the Beast with big pink feathery wings is called Eternal Sugar Cookie, and said Eternal Sugar Cookie's domain is basically RIGHT next to Dessert Paradise, said domain literally having the word Paradise in its name.

THIS is where I'm taking a few leaps for my predictions on Eternal Sugar's motives, but hear me out here.

I genuinely, genuinely think Peril in Paradise could be used to draw some parallels. Despite Sugar Paradise being a place where nothing can die and nothing decays, it happened that a heart consumed by selfish and corrupted desires got its hands on the Eternal Sweetness, causing that eternal life and peace to slowly but surely decay into nothing. Mold had started growing on plants, the inhabitants of the land started hunting for food, and death was introduced to a place where death was never meant to be.

So, we can potentially tie this back to Eternal Sugar.

Eternal Sugar Cookie is the Beast of Sloth, originally holding the Virtue of Happiness. Clearly, there HAS to be some relation to Dessert Paradise, considering the frequent reuse of certain words between Eternal Sugar's stuff and Dessert Paradise. Here's what I'm thinking; originally, the Forgotten Sugar Paradise was Dessert Paradise, or its predecessor of some kind. Here, Eternal Sugar Cookie took up the role of the land's watcher and protector, preserving the life of all the resided in it, much like what the Sugar Swan would do later on. I'm personally thinking that, at some point, something similar to what happened in the Peril in Paradise story happened here. For one reason or another, death and decay were suddenly introduced to the paradise; withering, hunting for food, lives actually at risk. Unlike what happened back in Ovenbreak, Eternal Sugar was likely unable to stop it, or was only able to stop it way too late, with a significant portion of the paradise's lives being taken. And that's when something in her mind broke.

Having forcefully been introduced to the concept of death and decay, the protector of paradise would become desperate to never let that happen again. A crippling, debilitating fear of death. So, what would they do about this? Preserve the world's beauty, by force. Make sure that nothing will ever have to spend energy, never have to decay, never grow ill, never age, never be tarnished. Asleep, forever, perfectly preserved. To her, the only way to ensure precious, beautiful lives will never be taken again is to fully embrace sloth, and ensure that nothing ever has to move so much as a finger, never put itself at risk, never be in any danger, never age, never rot, never die. Pristine. Peaceful. Eternal.

Reaching more into assumptions, I'd think that if this is the motive, she'd want to keep everyone and everything encased in glass, unmoving, asleep, undying, preserved forever, their beauty on full display for all of time. Hell, if you wanna make her REALLY scary, have it so that by the time we meet her, she already has a small collection; cookies, dessert animals, other sapient beings all encased in glass, asleep. Like they'd been frozen in time. And, honestly? Even though she would be the antagonist, she could have a weird relationship with Hollyberry where unlike all the previous ancients, there's no actual animosity, no personal sense of antagonism. Thinking that, ultimately, yes, Hollyberry should be preserved, she deserves to, as someone so strong and loving and passionate, qualities that deserve to be preserved and regarded beautifully; despite how much they think in opposite ways (With Hollyberry rightfully thinking that the only way to live life is to LIVE it, to its fullest extent, as happily and vividly and eagerly as possible).

... You can also make it yuri, if you so please. Something like Eternal Sugar going on about "Why? Why won't you let yourself be preserved? You are so beautiful, so perfectly baked and formed and well taken care of, so loving, and yet you're okay with all of that being lost? Why? Why won't you let me save you? Why are you so willing to let something so beautiful rot and fade with time?", genuinely desperate to make sure that what seems like her beautiful other half can be preserved forever. Not gonna happen canonically, most likely, but I think it would be fun and proooobably make sense. Probably. We'll see.

But yeah, those are my personal predictions for Eternal Sugar. I'd be really happy if they came true, honestly! Bringing in some more old-school Cookie Run lore and stuff for one of the Beasts would be a good way of making her stand out, and feel quite gratifying for more long-time fans. Really excited to see where the writing team takes her.

#jester ramblings #cookie run kingdom #eternal sugar cookie #hollyberry cookie #<- only Mentioned but uhhh idk i want this to show up in tags and also this is related enough that it works

19 notes · View notes

blackfilmmakers · 2 days ago

Note

(Do want to point out I'm Korean on my mom's side. I'm biracial in a sense my mom is Blasian and my dad is Afro Latino, so, Black)

Hi, it's always fun to talk about Blasian identities, seeing as how of all the mixed identities, that's the one you see the least in media. And I can't help but feel it's because we have to always focus on white people one way or another in stories. Same thing with interracial love stories

Here are some things to consider when writing about Blasian characters:

1) Physical features - This is something people struggle the most when it comes to biracial Black characters in general. Everyone just assumes the "Blackness" washes away the moment another race is mixed in. That's not how genetics works people. First off, Black and Asian people come in a widerange of skintones and hair textures, yes this includes East Asians. Second, you can't determine how a Black and Asian couple's baby will turn out. You can probably have a guess as to how, but you can never guarantee they will come out lightskinned with straight wavy hair.

Yes you can have someone like my mom who is very lightskinned and Asian passing(is that a word?). You can also have someone like Naomi Osaka who has monolid eyes but a deep brown skin tone. Or you can have someone like like Miss Universe Vietnam, Huýnh Thị Câm Tiên, who is darkskinned and has more predominant Black features. If anything I definitely encourage you to give them dark brown skin and Black features, only because colorism is a bitch in media.

But definitely don't do the thing where you make Blasian girls inherently lightskinned and more mixed in appearance, while the Blasian boys are allowed to be darkskinned and unapologetically Black. That's colorism, and racism. Equating Blackness with masculinity, yeah, don't do that. It hurts both communities

2) Don't ignore your Blasian character's Blackness - Essentially don’t put so much focus on their nonBlack heritage, you practically forget they are Black. No, there is no one way to be "Black enough". But a Black character's Blackness is something you have to consider through their design, personality, worldbuilding and story all the way through. Take Kipo from Kipo and the Age of the Wonderbeasts for instance. I like Kipo. I like how she is Korean and Black, cuz shout out to me specifically ❤️. But if it weren't for the fact we've seen her Black dad, no one would think she is also Black. You have a sense she's Korean the moment she named her pig mutant companion "Mandu," but what about Kipo celebrates her Blackness? Her skin is dark pink, but that just tells us she's not lightskinned(glares at fanartists that whitewash her). She has Black friends, and the show's music track has a lot of hip hop, but like.....gestures to Black entertainment used by everyone worldwide.

I wish I can find the fanart, but there was this drawing someone did where Kipo is braiding Wolf's(a darkskinned Black younger sister figure character in the show) hair. And I wish the show had moments like that. Kipo doesn't need to braid her own hair into cornrows, and she doesn't necessarily have to have an afro based hair texture, but braiding hair of someone close to you does show a celebration and unity of her Black identity. When you don't consider your Blasian character's Blackness in their writing, you miss out on effective, subtle characterizations like that. If you think I'm accusing Kipo of "not being Black enough" btw, the show creators literally admitted that making Kipo Black was a last-minute decision, which as a Black and Korean person, I picked that up quickly.

I don't want to say you have to sacrifice your Blasian character's Asian identity either, but it's one of those things where everyone wants to get rid of any trace of Blackness so badly, they would figure that "Asian" is the closest thing to whiteness, thus the more important heritage to focus on. Case in point, Kipo.

The other issue when writers do that is that they ultimately dilute the Asian identity as well. Like Kipo names a pig Mandu and likes Kimchi and listens to K-pop cool, so does every white kpop fan. Was there anything else about Korean culture the writers could have established for Kipo's personality and story?

They did this with G3 Clawdeen Wolf too, where her latina heritage is what they focused on mainly cuz "it's not Black" (even though latina isn't a race, and Afro Latines exist). At the same time, they have her eat an entire tamale with the entire husk still on.......on multiple occasions, demonstrating they did little research on even her latina heritage

3) Avoid making them quirky - It's overdone and colorist at this point. The idea that a Black character can only be weird and quirky when they are mixed with a nonblack identity and divorced from their Blackness is all antiBlack racism. This doesn't mean they can't be odd in the sense that main characters stick out from the background characters naturally. But don't make them quirky to be palatable for white audiences. It also comes off as “because they are mixed they are weird” 😕. Have a good understanding of your characters’ different heritages before giving them a trait that makes them “weird” too cuz that’s how you end up calling different races odd too 🫤

4) No anime references - At least not in a sense where because they are Asian that gives you the excuse to have their entire characterization be nothing but Japanese animation references. Like the moment Lars from Steven Universe was confirmed to be Filipino and has a whole character arc of what that means to him, struggling to fit in- they killed him, turned him pink when revived, and changed his entire personality to just space anime protagonist. Don't do that. Again, it's just another way to make the character of color palatable for white audiences, this time through orientalism

5)Take note where your character lives - Like any other character you write, you need to do research on where they live and how that affects them as a person. No character lives in a bubble. Do they live in the Asian country one of their parents is from? Do they live somewhere in the West or global South? Are their parents/grandparents immigrants? Are they themselves immigrants? What language(s) or dialect(s) do they speak? How do they interact with the community? Again, it's all stuff you have to consider writing any character. Even if it's not necessarily important to the story, you as the creator need a good understanding of your character

6) Who is this story for? - Are you writing this character to actually uplift unheard mixed people's stories? Or are you doing this for brownie points?

Keep in mind when you write about a Blasian character, you are not just writing for Blasians. You are writing for Black and Asian groups as well. You need to understand the connection between Black and Asian groups, which goes back to point 5 a bit. Like how did the parents of your Blasian character meet? Do they both live in LA in neighboring communities? Was one parent and African migrant that moved to an Asian country?

You want to make a biracial character, you're gonna have to do a lot of work to research both sides of that heritage.

There's some ugly in that history, but there is also community and solidarity at times

7) Stop only giving them white friends/love interests - W/o fail you have these characters live in such a diverse environments, only to somehow be surrounded by white people. I’ll give Kipo credit here for having mainly Black friends. It's again the need to force white people take up the main focus of the story. Frankly I’m tired of it 🥱

Note this is not a thorough “How to Write Blasians” check off list because I’m just one Blasian with my own one experience. Seek out more Blasians, and Blasian writers. Most of this has to do with how much research you are willing to put into

Hi,any help on writing Biracial,Blasian in particular characters?I can only find some about Black-White Biracial characters but not really about Blasian characters.Thanks in advance.

Unfortunately I only have my lesson on multicultural Blackness! @blackfilmmakers might have more direction on this point!

Also, it may help you to direct your research towards a specific group (e.g. where from in Asia?) as you can then narrow in on aspects of both cultures, and then research the experience within that community. Typing in "Blasian" won't be more than generally helpful because Asia is a gigantic continent with a LOT of peoples within it, so there's no One experience.

165 notes · View notes