#but i know about a fairly decent amount of them

[tryxyhijinks]

Pratchett had some words about this:

O: You’re quite a writer. You’ve a gift for language, you’re a deft hand at plotting, and your books seem to have an enormous amount of attention to detail put into them. You’re so good you could write anything. Why write fantasy?

Pratchett: I had a decent lunch, and I’m feeling quite amiable. That’s why you’re still alive. I think you’d have to explain to me why you’ve asked that question.

O: It’s a rather ghettoized genre.

P: This is true. I cannot speak for the US, where I merely sort of sell okay. But in the UK I think every book— I think I’ve done twenty in the series— since the fourth book, every one has been one the top ten national bestsellers, either as hardcover or paperback, and quite often as both. Twelve or thirteen have been number one. I’ve done six juveniles, all of those have nevertheless crossed over to the adult bestseller list. On one occasion I had the adult best seller, the paperback best-seller in a different title, and a third book on the juvenile bestseller list. Now tell me again that this is a ghettoized genre.

O: It’s certainly regarded as less than serious fiction.

P: (Sighs) Without a shadow of a doubt, the first fiction ever recounted was fantasy. Guys sitting around the campfire— Was it you who wrote the review? I thought I recognized it— Guys sitting around the campfire telling each other stories about the gods who made lightning, and stuff like that. They did not tell one another literary stories. They did not complain about difficulties of male menopause while being a junior lecturer on some midwestern college campus. Fantasy is without a shadow of a doubt the ur-literature, the spring from which all other literature has flown. Up to a few hundred years ago no one would have disagreed with this, because most stories were, in some sense, fantasy. Back in the middle ages, people wouldn’t have thought twice about bringing in Death as a character who would have a role to play in the story. Echoes of this can be seen in Pilgrim’s Progress, for example, which hark back to a much earlier type of storytelling. The epic of Gilgamesh is one of the earliest works of literature, and by the standard we would apply now— a big muscular guys with swords and certain godlike connections— That’s fantasy. The national literature of Finland, the Kalevala. Beowulf in England. I cannot pronounce Bahaghvad-Gita but the Indian one, you know what I mean. The national literature, the one that underpins everything else, is by the standards that we apply now, a work of fantasy.

Now I don’t know what you’d consider the national literature of America, but if the words Moby Dick are inching their way towards this conversation, whatever else it was, it was also a work of fantasy. Fantasy is kind of a plasma in which other things can be carried. I don’t think this is a ghetto. This is, fantasy is, almost a sea in which other genres swim. Now it may be that there has developed in the last couple of hundred years a subset of fantasy which merely uses a different icongraphy, and that is, if you like, the serious literature, the Booker Prize contender. Fantasy can be serious literature. Fantasy has often been serious literature. You have to fairly dense to think that Gulliver’s Travels is only a story about a guy having a real fun time among big people and little people and horses and stuff like that. What the book was about was something else. Fantasy can carry quite a serious burden, and so can humor. So what you’re saying is, strip away the trolls and the dwarves and things and put everyone into modern dress, get them to agonize a bit, mention Virginia Woolf a few times, and there! Hey! I’ve got a serious novel. But you don’t actually have to do that.

(Pauses) That was a bloody good answer, though I say it myself.

my creative writing prof also HATES fantasy. as in if she asks for an example of symbolism in a book, and you give something from a fantasy novel, she’ll ask for an example from a “non-commercial book” instead.

I dunno man, people can have preferences, but the second you discount the artistic merit of sci fi and fantasy I stop taking your opinion seriously. and there’s such a big culture in Canada of only valuing literary fiction, to the point where one of our biggest authors, Margaret Atwood, refused for a while to classify her books as sci fi or fantasy. she said they were “speculative fiction”, which is entirely separate and very highbrow (sarcasm).

and I could go on about how Octavia Butler and Ursula Le Guin wrote books every bit as intellectual (and honestly, even more so) than their literary counterparts, but I am also an enjoyer of schlock!! I think there’s artistic merit in animorphs, and in isekais where a japanese schoolgirl reincarnates into a magical spider who has to level up like it’s a video game! it’s like with everything, you can’t draw a clean line that separates ‘art’ from ‘non-art’ or even ‘lesser art’, and pretending you can do so just makes you look ignorant and goofy. in my opinion.

[listen-to-the-inner-walrus]

me: okay im pretty tired so im just gonna find something light to watch

video about the rms laconia: exists

me: oh hey, i know that one pretty well, i wont end up angry crying about it this time. clicks on video

an hour later

me: is angry crying about it this time

[thedreadvampy]

Btw in all the chat about Dot & Bubble and racism has anyone like. acknowledged that it's kinda weird that in the series featuring the first ever Doctor of colour we have seen uhhhhh:

3 specials in which the new Black doctor appears at the end of the last one for like 5 minutes after being replaced with a previous (white) Doctor for the big event episodes (a thing that has never happened before)

3 regular episodes

Episode in which the Doctor is mostly tangential to the plot except as a bomb

2 extremely Doctor-lite episodes, which are a common feature of Doctor Who but are pretty much never stacked back to back

FOR THE AVOIDANCE OF DOUBT. I like all these things:

Russell T Davies' work on Doctor Who

Ncuti Gatwa's fucking masterful acting

Doctor-lite and companion-centric episodes (which honestly are some of the best New Who episodes. Turn Left? Human Nature?)

but. it is notable that this series - which I would consider so far to be 9 episodes in which Ncuti Gatwa has had a reasonable cut of screentime in like... MAYBE 4? - is a) by far the least Doctor-focused episode ratio that I've ever seen, b) the only one where an actor's actual onscreen regeneration has been pushed back by the return of an old actor, and is c) COINCIDENTALLY the first ever season starring a Black Doctor 🤔

(because like. this could be a coincidence. there are often Doctor-light episodes to give the actor a break, for plot reasons, etc)

(buuuuut. two in a row? and they're both genuine Doctor-light episodes, ie one which is Turn Left style where the Doctor only appears to bookend the episode and is otherwise taken out of the universe, and one which is Blink or Love and Monsters style where the Doctor only appears in brief bursts, on screen, through the episode, with one monologue near the end, while we follow another character around for the bulk of the time. I can't think of many series of New Who with 2 Doctor-lite episodes, especially not in the first half of a season. In Davies' original run there were what, 4 Doctor-lite episodes in 5 years (and that's IF you count Fathers Day which I kinda don't)? and we've had half that many in one season, back to back, only 4 episodes after we DIDN'T SEE THE NEW ACTOR FOR ALMOST 3 FULL SPECIALS?)

(and I do know that Gatwa had shooting commitments with Sex Education but the thing is. back to back in the first 5 episodes???? it's not a good look! it's just not! you don't have to shoot in series order, you can literally space them across the series if you need to work with his shooting schedule! like I am sure it's not intentional but COME ON.)

[fuckyeahgoodomens]

Terry Pratchett about fantasy ❤

Terry Pratchett interview in The Onion, 1995 (x)

O: You’re quite a writer. You’ve a gift for language, you’re a deft hand at plotting, and your books seem to have an enormous amount of attention to detail put into them. You’re so good you could write anything. Why write fantasy?

Terry: I had a decent lunch, and I’m feeling quite amiable. That’s why you’re still alive. I think you’d have to explain to me why you’ve asked that question.

O: It’s a rather ghettoized genre.

Terry: This is true. I cannot speak for the US, where I merely sort of sell okay. But in the UK I think every book— I think I’ve done twenty in the series— since the fourth book, every one has been one the top ten national bestsellers, either as hardcover or paperback, and quite often as both. Twelve or thirteen have been number one. I’ve done six juveniles, all of those have nevertheless crossed over to the adult bestseller list. On one occasion I had the adult best seller, the paperback best-seller in a different title, and a third book on the juvenile bestseller list. Now tell me again that this is a ghettoized genre.

O: It’s certainly regarded as less than serious fiction.

Terry: (Sighs) Without a shadow of a doubt, the first fiction ever recounted was fantasy. Guys sitting around the campfire— Was it you who wrote the review? I thought I recognized it— Guys sitting around the campfire telling each other stories about the gods who made lightning, and stuff like that. They did not tell one another literary stories. They did not complain about difficulties of male menopause while being a junior lecturer on some midwestern college campus.

Fantasy is without a shadow of a doubt the ur-literature, the spring from which all other literature has flown. Up to a few hundred years ago no one would have disagreed with this, because most stories were, in some sense, fantasy. Back in the middle ages, people wouldn’t have thought twice about bringing in Death as a character who would have a role to play in the story. Echoes of this can be seen in Pilgrim’s Progress, for example, which hark back to a much earlier type of storytelling. The epic of Gilgamesh is one of the earliest works of literature, and by the standard we would apply now— a big muscular guys with swords and certain godlike connections— That’s fantasy. The national literature of Finland, the Kalevala. Beowulf in England. I cannot pronounce Bahaghvad-Gita but the Indian one, you know what I mean. The national literature, the one that underpins everything else, is by the standards that we apply now, a work of fantasy.

Now I don’t know what you’d consider the national literature of America, but if the words Moby Dick are inching their way towards this conversation, whatever else it was, it was also a work of fantasy. Fantasy is kind of a plasma in which other things can be carried. I don’t think this is a ghetto. This is, fantasy is, almost a sea in which other genres swim. Now it may be that there has developed in the last couple of hundred years a subset of fantasy which merely uses a different icongraphy, and that is, if you like, the serious literature, the Booker Prize contender. Fantasy can be serious literature. Fantasy has often been serious literature. You have to fairly dense to think that Gulliver’s Travels is only a story about a guy having a real fun time among big people and little people and horses and stuff like that. What the book was about was something else. Fantasy can carry quite a serious burden, and so can humor. So what you’re saying is, strip away the trolls and the dwarves and things and put everyone into modern dress, get them to agonize a bit, mention Virginia Woolf a few times, and there! Hey! I’ve got a serious novel. But you don’t actually have to do that.

(Pauses) That was a bloody good answer, though I say it myself.

[sexilene]

boy nextdoor!jj is so hot hehe him choking me while he fucks me in a matting press AHHHH. want to see him smirking down at me through his floppy blonde hair wet with sweat as he puts his other hand over my mouth so my parents don’t wake up :3

ohmygoodness stop it right now. the way i smiled reading thisss pleaseeee!!! adding this to the kinktober list cuz why not!! #19 (ignore any spelling mistakes sorry lol!)

anotha little boynextdoor!jj x girlnextdoor!reader thought ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

when your boyfriend does manage to sneak in through the window by climbing on a tree…he usually spends the night. your parents go to sleep fairly early, like soon after dinner early, so that gives you and jj some alone time in the dark without worrying about one of your parents randomly entering your room to check on you. it's happened before and though jj is getting better at running to find a hiding spot, it's is not ideal.

your parents figure you like to fall asleep to the tv you have in your room watching your little movies, and that it’s the movies making the little sounds. while that is true on some nights, this time around both the tv, you and your boyfriend are making sounds.

“jay!” you squeal when he throws your legs over his shoulders, bending down again to press his flushed hard cock deeper into you. “shhh, gotta be quiet, like a little mouse, quiet okay?” he shushes you, your little movie still on in the background, providing a decent amount of light to illuminate his features and yours.

“uh huh…okay” you nod, still a little dazed due to the past two orgasms he gave you by fingering you a little over 20 minutes ago. once he pushes into your puffy pulsing heat, he wraps a strong hand around your throat and starts to squeeze down, causing you to furrow your eyebrows and grip the hand on your neck. jj is practically trapping you there, underneath him getting incessantly plowed by his big dick.

“wanna hold my hand?” he offers you the hand that’s not on your neck, you mewl at his sweetness, he’s still trying to make you feel as loved and safe as possible even if he is fucking you like he hates you.

“mhmm!”

“here babydoll” he takes your hand in his, the sounds of skin slapping skin faintly bouncing off the walls, not wanting to risk waking the whole neighborhood up with the way he really wants to be pounding into you right now.

your lips are swollen from his kisses, drool threatening to escape the corners of your lips, tear stains on your cheeks glisten due to the lighting, your hair all messy, and still jj thinks you look like the prettiest little thing.

“y’look cute, c’mere” your boyfriend grunts, pulling you up by your neck for another kiss, “harder jayjay, please harder!” you whisper, needy as ever.

“i know babe,” jj chokes you harder and uses his other hand to rub your clit in fast circles, “g’nna cum again!” you squeal out.

“gonna wake up your parents, hold on,” he takes his hand off your neck and covers your mouth to keep you from making any more loud noises, as much as he loves to hear them….

“alright kittie cat no more screamin’ or im gonna have to press your face into the pillow,” he whispers in your ear.

“mph- nmm” your words muffled by his big hand,

“yeaaaah good girl, almost done baby, just keep takin’ it…” he bends your legs back further into a mating press and starts thrusting in again. the position causing his dick to go in deeper and hit the spots that make you melt. that combined with the way both your bodies all sticky with sweat and how he smells all salty and musky, makes you roll your eyes back and then squeeze them shut.

“h-ha…shit, y’so warm and wet holy fuck i love you so much.” jj grits through his teeth, bringing that hand back down to play with your pulsing clit. you whine into his hand as you cum hardddd on his dick, squeezing him so hard he can barely pull out to thrust in again.

“shhh sh sh, there you go…reaaal yummy huh?” he coos, bringing that hand back up to choke you again, “baby girl likes getting choked huh? dont’cha?”

you try and make a sound but you just can’t with how hard he’s squeezing your neck. “yeeeeaaah she likes it, little pussy gushes on me when i squeeze your throat like…thisss…” he gives a few final hard sloppy thrusts, letting go of your neck to give you a breathing break, sweat dripping down his chest, before he shoots hot strings of cum into your cervix.

he doesn’t pull out to keep all that cum stuffed in you and bends down to give you wet sloppy ‘good job’ kisses, whispering an ‘i love you’ after every kiss.

“think we were pretty quiet this time?” your boyfriend whispers looking into your eyes, and all you can do is give him doe eyes, pout and let out a little “mph!” ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

[keferon]

Hmmmm. New infection: Blurr/Swerve

Your writing has radioactive qualities but in a comic book super powers granting kind of way.

Merry Christmas from me to you.

———————————————————————

There was single spark of Christmas in the deepest dark of space. Far, far from the warm fire of Earth.

With the sort of warmth reserved for children’s holiday specials, Swerve and Jazz exchanged small improvised gifts.

Prowl also participated, with all the stone cold concentration of a bomb defusal.

Turns out, there was a decent amount of dropped shanix down various vents that Jazz had gotten a hold of. Swerve helped him pick up a gift for Prowl the next time they stopped at a trade depot. It was some of the most fun he’d had since waking up.

Prowl. ALSO, required Swerves help in picking out a gift for Jazz.

Never, never, never again.

Later, Swerve would watch as Jazz helped Prowl loop a striped scarf over his shoulders and across one half of a chevron, laughing and smiling all the while.

Swerve wasn’t jealous. No no no. He really was happy for them! He was! And maybe a little sad.

Prowl nodded at something Jazz said and took his leave to head back to his, their hab suite. Jazz jogged over to where Swerve had been slowly been drilling a pen into the drawing pad Jazz gotten for him.

“So you going to go see them?”

Swerve abruptly dropped the pen and flattened a hand over the sketch he’d definitely not made of the person he totally wasn’t thinking about.

“Whaaaat? No, no I’m sure they’re fine. Not! That I was still thinking about him! THEM.”Swerves optics darted rapidly from Jazz to the drawing, making sure any evidence was fully concealed.

“Besides, I’m not gonna leave you alone on Christmas Eve.” He said a bit more seriously, remembering Jazz’s current isolation. Unlike him, Swerve could visit Earth whenever wanted.

“Actually, Prowl was talking about some silent holovid earlier, so we were going to watch it tonight. It’s cool man, go check on your boo.”

Jazz looked, well, happy. And his field (wow, Swerve was still mind blown that humans had those the entire time) reflected that.

Swerve did a poor imitation of nonchalance. “I mean, only if you’re totally sure.”

Jazz put his hands in his pockets, rocking on the balls of his feet a little, “Hmmm, you could always join Prowl and I for the holovid. You know, the one we’re gonna watch together? Inside his room?”

HA!

Hahahahhaha!

Oooooh Swerve saw THAT trap and did not need the stress induced nightmare fuel that’d surely come from third wheeling on a date with Prowl.

The Christmas Shopping was enough.

With Jazz’s blessing, and Prowl’s glaring, seriously he could feel it through the wall, Swerve wished them a Merry Christmas and went to his room. Just a little bit quicker than necessary.

———————————————

Blurr’s hospital was one of those really fancy ones that looked more like a hotel room from the right angles.

There were simple decorations, extra furniture like a nightstand and a small couch, as well as fairly thick curtains framing a large clear window.

Christmas lights were strung up outside, adding to the ambient glow of the city lit up below. Snowflakes drifting through the air fuzzed the details. Made everything a little soft.

Swerve zeroed in on closing the curtains out of habit.

“Leave th-“

Swerve shrieked, nearly clipping through a wall with how hard he jumped.

Lying on his good side on the couch, Blurr merely blinked at him slowly before finishing his sentence.

“Leave the curtains open, please.” He pulled a blanket that didn’t look thick enough a little more securely over his shoulder.

Blurr didn’t resume looking at the falling snow, instead he took Swerve in with a half lidded eye.

“So are you my ghost of Christmas past, present or future?”

Swerve was uncomfortably reminded of how he looked at the moment. Colorless, grainy and mostly transparent. Slowly, he turned up the sliders on his holoform. “Heh, uh, option D? None of the above?”

Blurr didn’t have an IV in, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t still on some other form of painkillers. Either way, he seemed a little more aware than what Swerve was prepared to deal with.

So why was he moving to get Blurr a better blanket?

Eh, he probably won’t remember this, but his recovery will. Swerve rationalized. He thinks I’m a Christmas ghost anyways, it’s just a dream to him.

When Swerve was almost out of sight, he was stopped by a small, “Stay?”

Swerve stayed.

He shuffled where he stood, Blurr continued to look at him. Slowly, the former racer tried to sit up.

Swerve was there right away, moving softly as he helped him up. In order to support Blurrs weight as best as possible, Swerve ended up sitting halfway onto the couch where Blurr had been laying.

Blurr placed a hand on his arm for support, and when he was most of the way upright, Swerve felt him sigh and rest all of his weight onto his holoform.

Comfortable.

Trapping him.

Holoforms can’t explode right?

Swerve was living both his greatest fanfic dream as well as his second greatest real life nightmare. He really, really hoped holoforms couldn’t explode. Fuck knows he’d put this poor man through enough.

How many layers of guilt were there again? There’s the initial parasocial idolization thing. There was the time Blurr saw all of his destroyed merchandise. So he thinks Swerve hates him. Did. He did actually hate him. Not really, but he wanted to. Oh and then Swerve left him for dead! Because he treated him like he wasn’t an actual living person who could feel fear! Or pain! Or. . . Alone.

On Christmas.

Swerve got a little more settled onto the couch, letting Blurr use him as his personal cushion a bit more comfortably. Leaning his head on his shoulder, Blurr was watching the snow again.

“When I was a child, I spent every Christmas at a ski lodge to the north” Blurr spoke quietly enough that the silence stayed resilient.

“I’d stay up late, watching the snow drift down through the mountain lights for hours. It felt a lot like this.” Blurr’s eye was fluttering more and more the longer he spoke. Each time it closed, Swerve could see the effort it took to open again.

Blurr, readjusted his body one last time me. Then mumbled. “You’re very warm for a ghost.”

Swerve, desperately, wished he could remember a single smart thing he’d ever written. “I got a slider for that.”

Swerve was going to find the self destruct button.

Blurr snorted a genuine single laugh. His eye had closed and he’d stopped fighting. Gradually, Swerve felt him breath a little slower, sinking into him and the couch. Swerve held still, until all the screaming, embarrassing panic in his mind resolved into white noise.

Swerve stayed for as long as he could. And when his time was almost up, he carefully lowered Blurr back onto the couch. Getting him a thicker blanket, and a non-Swerve pillow, for Christmas.

———————————————————————

- SSTP

"Prowl. ALSO, required Swerves help in picking out a gift for Jazz.

Never, never, never again."

LMAO

"Oooooh Swerve saw THAT trap and did not need the stress induced nightmare fuel that’d surely come from third wheeling on a date with Prowl."

AHAHAHAJFJGMGJGKRJ WHEEEEEEZE HELP

ANON. SSTP. DEAR. MY TREASURE. MY SWEET NUCLEAR POWER PLANT OF A WRITER. I LOVE THE WAY YOU WRITE THEM. BOTH JP AND BLURWERS. YOU HAVE NO BUSINESS TO BE THIS FUNNY AND CUTE /J

Also The scene with Blurr is just SO cozy auughhggj I wanna wrap them both in a blanket and send to the magic ski resort where nothing bad ever happens*

[rottingcorps3s]

older man!neighbor!price

aaaayyyoo??? my little thing i posted last night kinda popped off. here’s another one before i fall off again (10 whole reblogs?? you guys are so cute).

price is sliiiightly older in this. think like mid to late 40’s. older man, next door neighbor. i envision this in a timeline where he retired early. this is very house-wife, american pie dream kinda deal. what can i say (hawk screech). OBVIOUSLY, some puss eating. what’s the reverse of a munch? not the one who eats, but the one who is eaten? cause that’s me. there’s a decent amount of set up for this one, but its not too long.

Part 2

-

neighbor!price is the kind of person you see that makes you pick up your phone and call your friends to tell them about the ‘hot ass dilf’ that you just saw leave the house next to yours. you had been in and out of the house all day, cleaning and moving in the smaller pieces of furniture into the previously vacant home.

the sun was just setting when you decided to stop, your clothes slightly damp from the thin coat of sweat that covered your body. you had taken the chance to finally sit down for the first time today, your body giving in as you plopped down onto the wooden steps that lead up to the porch.

you saw a car in the distance slowly approaching, it didn’t catch your attention again until it turned into the driveway adjacent to your home. a few seconds after it parked, an older man stepped out.

“well helllloooo neighbor…” you mumbled to yourself, smirking before deciding to stand up and greet him. just a new neighbor doing their neighborly duties of introducing themselves °_°

he hadn’t been paying attention until he saw your shadow being casted on the ground next to him. he turned his head to look at you.

his eyes locked with yours, boring into your skull the longer you looked at him. his face was covered in blonde and white hair, his beard kept fairly short. he was built too, his biceps practically being the size of your head, his t-shirt leaving little to the imagination.

it had felt like minutes since you approached him, staring into his eyes as he waited for you to say something.

“he-i just moved-next door-neighbor!!” you struggled to get out, your mouth suddenly becoming dry now that you are face-to-face. he gave you a tight lipped smile, nodding his head once before extending his hand out.

“john.” he said simply, “i live next door.” he smirked, his tone dry, but kinda humorous? or maybe he was just making fun of your struggle to introduce yourself. (YEEESSSSS MAKE FUN OF ME MAKE ME FEEL INFERIOR….srry, need to control myself).

you said your goodbyes and didn’t even get through the front door before you were calling your friend.

-

the next few days were exhausting. the movers had finally shown up and you were finally able to sleep in your bed once again. your home was still filled with boxes upon boxes upon boxes but you were determined to finally take a night to relax.

god must’ve had the devil on speed dial that night, because NOTHING went right. what was supposed to be a quiet night in bed with a glass of wine, quickly turned into a disaster when you went to take a shower. you had opted for a bath the last few nights, enjoying the warmth on your achy muscles from unpacking.

you pulled the tab that would usually start the shower head; you didn’t even have time to process what happened before you were drenched in water. you let out a panicked scream, trying to backtrack and shut off the water. the shower head had come clean off and was now spraying water over the entire room.

you were frozen in place, unsure of what to do or who even to call. your body was moving faster than your brain, you were already out the front door and knocking on your neighbors door in a frenzy.

he was old…er. he looked like a dad! he definitely would know what to do!

price was puzzled by the scene in front of him when he opened the door. you were soaked beyond belief, your hair sticking to your forehead, your eyes wide like you were a deer in headlights.

“can you please help me!” you begged, your voice so soft and sweet, your lips pouting out every so slightly. “my-my fucking shower exploded, or something!”

he agreed, following behind you with a small tool bag in his hand. you left a trail of water behind you, your bare feet hitting the concrete of the sidewalk as you walked quickly back to your home. john would never admit it, but he was staring. the shirt you wore was soaked and clung tightly to your body. outlining your figure.

john was able to rectify the situation rather quickly, even teaching you a few things about homeownership whilst he did. he was able to find the water shut off valve in your basement, stopping the water from spraying and almost flooding your bathroom. he also reattached the shower head, making sure it would actually stay out this time.

you thanked him profusely, over and over and over again all the way back to his front door where you followed him. you said your goodbyes, not without saying thank you one more time.

but it just wasn’t enough. that man, your neighbor, a stranger, john. was considerate enough to go out of his way to help you. you had to make it up to him! so you did…

by baking!! obviously!! :)

chocolate chip cookies, of course. everyone likes a good cookie!

once they were done and cooked you wrapped them up in plastic wrap, a small note attached to the top.

a thank you note.

you dropped them off on his doorstep the next morning, leaving them there for him to find.

-

the next few months were pretty consistent. thankfully, no more shower head explosions. you had a few problems here and there, but nothing you couldn’t fix!!…or that john could fix for you…

you paid him in baked goods and hot meals. even going out of your way to find out his favorites. he didn’t mind, he enjoyed it, maybe a little too much.

you had been out of town for a few days, taking an extra long weekend to go out and have fun. john agreed he would keep an eye on your house while you were gone. making sure nothing or nobody messed with it.

he would’ve done it even if you didn’t ask him

when you returned home you made it a priority to make dinner for both yourself and john that night. a quick and yummy thank you.

you packed the food in a small container, sticking a little note to the top just explaining what you made and what was in it. you might’ve drawn a little heart or two on it as well, but i’ll never tell.

you were in a pale yellow sun dress, the bottom of the dress juuuuusst barely covering the top half of your thighs. you knocked on john’s door, box of food in hand with a smile on your face. the door swung open, but it wasn’t john.

it was another man. a black man with sharp features and short hair. “is john home, by chance?” you asked.

the man in front of you smiled widely, a sort of mischievous smile. a ‘i know something you don’t knooooow’.

he wasn’t given a chance to respond before the man was pulled back by his shoulder and john appeared in front of him. john was quick to shut the door, gently coaxing you to walk half way down the path in front of his house, away from the door. he had a look on his face, he seemed annoyed, not at you, but at the situation.

“i’m sorry, i didn’t know you had company.” you smiled apologetically, “i just wanted to say thank you.” you said, holding up the container of warm food.

john gave a tight lipped smile back, graciously accepting the food.

“don’t worry about it,” he mumbled, “thank you.”

you went on your merry way, scampering your way back up your steps and into your house. not without a quick wave before the door slammed shut.

john held his head in his hands, letting out a deep breath before turning to head back inside. he could see 3 separate breaks in the blinds from where 3 people were peeking through. the second he noticed it, they were gone. blinds completely back to normal.

he walked back inside, preparing for the comments that would be made by his guests.

“she’s prettier than you described, cap.” said a smug Gaz, Johnny nodding frantically in agreement.

“Might have to snatch her up myself, old man.” Johnny joked. his joke being met with a harsh slap to the back of his head from Ghost.

-

it had been a few days since you had seen john. you were used to having at least one daily encounter with him, but now he seemed like he was avoiding you. you didn’t stress about it too much, just assumed he was busy with…whatever he did in his free time.

you were half a bottle of wine down when you heard a knock on the door. you weren’t expecting any visitors so you had decided to drink a little more than you usually would.

you swung the door open, all precautions to the wind as you didn’t even check who it was.

it was john.

“oh-john,” you smiled sweetly, his name sounded like the texture of honey when you spoke it. he liked it. he liked it a lot.

“can i come in?” he asked bluntly. he didn’t really wait for you to answer, pushing his way in and standing next to you.

so close to you.

“is something wrong?” you asked, a worried expression on your face. your brows furrowed in slight frustration. concern.

he was quiet, his breathing shaky as he thought of what to say. he had no idea of how to beat around the bush, how to say what he wanted to say without it being too forward. but what’s wrong with a little honesty?

“i want you so badly.” he said in a quiet, deep voice. his eyes looking directly into yours, holding eye contact.

you weren’t sure if you heard him right at first, thinking that your mind was playing tricks on you. making you think he said something else but there’s no way he said that…right?

“r-right now?” you asked.

he was surprised by your question, not at all expecting that kind of response.

he nodded.

all it took was a small nod back at him before he jumped your bones. his hands were hot and heavy as they touched and saw new areas of skin. your shirt was bunched up by your collarbones before you knew it, his tongue quickly finding place on your nipples.

gaaaawwwddd, he’d play with them forever if he could. making sure to keep them taut and wet for the rest of eternity. leaving sloppy wet kisses and small bite marks behind.

you had made it to the couch at some point, time was a blur for the moment. your only focus on the way his hands ravished your body.

he would periodically make eye contact with you before doing certain things. making sure that it’s what you wanted and that you were enjoying it. he had started to shimmy your panties down before looking at you again even tho he did just moments ago. you nodded enthusiastically, desperately wanting him to touch you.

he knew once they were off that he wouldn’t be able to control himself. he was on his kees; he had set you on one of the arms on the couch, one leg hanging loosely over his shoulder already while he held the other one in place.

yes his knees were screaming at him for acting like he had the same body he did in his 20’s. no he didn’t really care how much it’ll hurt later.

the second your underwear was off your leg, he was going for it. he used his thumbs to spread you open slightly, admiring it before licking a looooooong, slow stripe up the middle, ending on your clit.

he’d be such a fucking tease. going all in and bringing you right to the top of your peak before pulling away or slowing down. you’d protest, desperation dripping from your words.

he’d get you to a point where all you could say was “please please please please”. he’d finally decide to cave, not stopping this time. it was almost too much for you to handle, your legs trembling and shaking.

he wouldn’t stop after either. you’d pull at his hair, letting out a cry as you tried to pry him off. but you were just sooooo weak from the last one :,( after the 4th or 5th, maybe 6th? you had lost count. he would finally let you go. making sure to give your pussy a small smack, enjoying the small squeal you let out a little too much.

and he’d make sure to fuck you silly too. turning you so that you would hang over the arm of the couch. he had to completely support you weight, which was fine with him. he’d ask for permission before even pulling his dick out; he’d use your own wetness as lube to stroke himself a few times before pushing in.

god he was sooo big, much bigger than any guy your own age.

he would 100000% talk you through your orgasms. you can’t remember a single thing he said, but you remember it being amazing.

once you were both done, he would take care of you. no doubt about it. he’d carry you to bed, bring you water, dress you in a new pair of pajamas and as long as you invited him, he would cuddle up next to you and hold you.

HUGE into pillow talk. would just talk about anything and would listen to whatever you said. nodding along with you.

the next time you cooked for him, it was extra delicious. and he’d be sure to tell you that when returning the container the next morning.

but not without updating you in his new favorite meal.

you.

-

SOMEBODY SEDATE ME. oh my fucking gaaaawwedddd

[ff-killjam]

How The Tables Turned [Ford x reader oneshot]

Summary: This time, its Ford making you stop what you're going to make sure you get sleep.

Rating: SFW and very fluffy

Warnings: Aside from a slightly suggestive part, none!

AO3 version

A/N: Actually based on a period of time where I tried to learn how to use unity (before the whole drama of it happened). I refused to do ANYTHING but to work on my little project no matter how much I was starving for a few weeks straight. lol.

It’s basically routine at this point for you to drag Ford out of his lab to head for bed. Even if you remind him of the benefits on sleeping and how the lack of it will impact his work, you still needed to get him into bed, sometimes having some food ready for him to make sure he didn’t sleep on an empty stomach.

That’s how its USUALLY IS.

Lately, you’ve started your own personal project involving learning a game engine to play around with. It was mostly just a random idea one day, wanting to try your hand at making your own little “video game”. Nothing too fancy, just something fun to put together and to learn some new skills along the way. There was A LOT you needed to look into and learn to make this happen, however.

From learning a coding language, the game engine itself, a mix between finding free to use assets and even making your own when nothing suited your taste- you had a lot on your plate. It wasn’t all that bad really, considering how this whole thing turned into a full blown hyper fixation fairly soon after starting it. It was easy to let the hours fly by as you were split between watching tutorial videos, drawing and fixing any errors/bugs in any of the codes you wrote down. You were aware of when you needed to sleep, eat and do other things for your health, but something about working on this project made you refuse to move from your chair. And you weren’t the only one to noticed this.

After a decent amount of time being with you, Ford has grown used to the routine of you coming to his lab to check up on him. It got to the point where he purposely stayed late in the lab to get you to come in and “pester” him to take care of himself better. The feeling of knowing you cared and loved him so much to go out of your way to make sure he knew that was something he relished in. Of course, he did felt a little “silly” and “immature” doing this instead of straight up telling you, but there was no harm being done anyways, so it was fine.

So when you stopped checking on him after a few nights, he couldn’t help but to worry a bit. At first, he figured you were just a bit busy, possibly even out for the night, so he didn’t think too much of it. However, when walking into your computer room and seeing you up staring at your screen with an open notebook with various random things written on it, he couldn’t help to smile a bit as you reminded him of his university days. You were just working on something, nothing too bad.

But as time passed by, he soon realizes he only ever sees you in your computer room. You barely went out for anything, even for food. Ford didn’t want to jump to any conclusions, but he was worried. Things escalated for him when he barely sees you in bed anymore.

It’s not like he didn’t talk to you as you were deep in your work. He would sometimes check in on you when things felt a little too quite after he started to noticed your absent in his lab. Ford was happy you were able to pursue something new and to take the time and effort to do it. He was aware of the little game you wanted to make for the sake of saying “I made this!”. When he had the free time, he’ll listen to you talk about the things you learned, some of the issues you faced and how you fixed them, etc etc. But he can only take so much before he had to really step in for your own sake.

The sky was dark out, and it was around 1am. You weren’t in bed yet. Again. Ford was really concerned for you now. Walking through the dim hallway, he opens up the door of your computer room. He can see you fully concentrated on your screen, looking over some codes you put together, as if you were trying to find any errors in the lines of text that was presented in front of you. It was obvious how dry your eyes were, how your body longed for rest, but the urge to keep going and to fix this one mistake kept you from wanting to sleep despite how much you felt the need to do so.

It was almost funny to him. A taste of his own medicine some would say. It reminds him of the many nights on how he too would refuse to stop for the night, always needing to do one more thing before he could let himself rest. How you would do your best to persuade him to let himself walk away from his work, to take care of himself to avoid any health complications, and to spend time with you in the comfort of your bed.

It made him feel guilty as well. The things you did for him and how much you loved him to always go out of your way to show it. Ford knew he was taking full advantage of that, and he wanted to repay it back.

You jumped a little in your seat when you felt his familiar six finger hand land on your shoulder, being so focused on the lines of text on your screen that you forgot where you were for a good bit. You look over at Ford as he stood beside your seat, giving him a weak smile.

“Oh hey! Do you need anything?” You asked before quickly looking back at the screen again.

“Love, when was the last time you ate?” Ford asked you in a gentle voice.

“Uh… I had breakfast?” You answered, only remembering you had some toast with a sunny side egg on top when you last ate. It didn’t seem like it mattered too much though.

“Its almost one am” Ford replied, a little stern this time. You quickly check the clock on your taskbar, feeling surprised from how much time had passed.

“Oh… oops” you spoke mostly to yourself, feeling a little silly for not checking the time more often. “I’ll probably head to bed soon”

“Not soon,” Ford points out, “you’re going to bed now.” His words made you look at him again, confusion viable on your face.

“Just let me do this one fix-” Ford says your name, stern voice again, causing you to stop your sentence.

“You are fully aware of the effects of not taking care of yourself” Ford spoke to you with a smirk on his face. You knew that he was referencing the many of times where you brought out the facts of how the lack of sleep and self care can affect your health and day to day life. It was the best way to convince him to come to bed and let you cuddle with him until you were both asleep. “You’re no different form me, sweetheart. Got to practice what they preach, as they say”

“Uh…. I’m built different?” You gave a half shrug and a low chuckle at your own joke. Obviously, this did nothing to change his mind. You knew he was right, and had nothing to say to argue back. Ford knew this too. “Fine… let me quickly save and shut off my computer…”

Ford watches you quickly save any progress before shutting off your computer, the light of the screen turning off and making the room dark as it was the only thing on. As you start to stand, your body fully conveyed how tired you really were. You were about to walk to the hallway door before Ford lets out a ‘let me’, and you were now being picked up bridle style in his arms. You let out a small gasp, often forgetting how much muscle the older man has as he often hides it away in his iconic turtleneck. The comfort of him holding you made the realization at your own exhaustion hit hard. You can feel yourself somewhat go limp as Ford carried you to your shared room.

Ford felt you quickly relax in his arms, feeling prideful as he carried you to your bed. Sitting you on the side and pulling the blanket back. He lays you on your pillow before fallowing suit into his usual spot on the bed beside you. Your eyes were shut as you let yourself sink into the soft mattress, the weight of the blanket being pulled over you giving a sense of security, along with how his arms wrapped around you to pull you close to his chest. You let out a sigh of relief as you feel him nuzzle his face into the crook of your neck, getting a few shivers down your spine.

“Sorry…” You mumbled to him, feeling guilty now for making him go out of his way to get you to bed. You feel him chuckle into your skin, the smile forming on his face being easily felt on your skin.

“Nothing to be sorry about sweetheart,” his replied, voice audibly sounding more tired, “I should be the one to apologize, making you go through this almost every night. I see how doing this almost all the time can be a bit frustrating for you.”

“Not if its you,” You were quickly to reply, “I’m always happy to make sure you’re okay”. Ford felt his heart flutter at your words. You always did surprised him with how much you loved him despite how many times you pointed it out.

“The feeling is mutual,” Ford placed a kiss on your skin as he caressed one of his thumbs that rested on you, “lets get to sleep now, I’ll be sure to do something for you in the morning” Ford gave another kiss on your skin, and you can’t help but to feel excited for what he had planned.

Silence followed as you two let yourselves slowly fall asleep in each others comfort. Feeling his steady heartbeat on your back lulled you to your sleep.

Ford smiled when he realized you fell asleep before he did. It was no surprise, you needed it really bad. Without fail every night when he has you in his arms like this, he feels like the luckiest man in the multiverse. He didn’t deserve you, but it was almost as if this is the repayment he deserved after many years of suffering, a way of life saying sorry to him.

And he wouldn’t ask for anything else.

[claypigeonpottery]

How did you get into selling your ceramics? I'm interested in selling my stuff but have no clue how to begin

I started out selling on Etsy. I think it was a decent place to start. unfortunately the site’s definitely gone downhill since 2020, when I started. posting on Etsy did make it obvious that I had to learn to take good pictures, and taking that step has been a huge help in the long run.

in 2021 my spouse @subpar-lemon-bar and I set up some tables with a few other potters, outside my parents’ house, and sold my work. the sale went ok, though most of the people who bought my work were friends or acquaintances lol, so it’s debatable whether it would have been a success without their support

after that, I sold my work at a few local craft shows, sales, and a maker’s faire. some of them went great, a couple of them went badly. but it was a good experience and I think it was helpful for me to talk to so many people at events about pottery and art.

the easiest way to start that is, unfortunately, to know someone who organizes or sells at craft shows or markets, but you can also find yearly local markets and apply to be a vendor when they’ve got an event coming up.

I was offered a couple tables by artists who knew me and after we’d done a couple shows, we got to know a lot of the other vendors. you also need a decent amount of pottery if you’re selling at a market, unlike selling online.

in-person sales are a ton of work, and by the end we were always exhausted. but overall, we made enough money and enjoyed enough of it that it was very worthwhile

once I started this tumblr, I found I didn’t really need to do in-person shows. I never have to worry that my work is too weird or too naked or too queer on tumblr, whereas craft shows in a fairly conservative area were… not suited to all my work lol. I got a lot of comments on any piece with nudity, and not all of them were kind.

I also had a few of my pieces for sale in a local coffee shop for about a year. nothing sold, it just wasn’t the right place. I tried selling through instagram stories too, a bunch of potters would sell their work at the same time and post each other’s work. I didn’t sell anything. it was early on and I was a little disheartened.

if things aren’t selling, that doesn’t mean your work won’t sell. it might be that you haven’t found the right place for it yet

good luck!

[cripplecharacters]

Do you think it’s ok as a person w/o psychosis to have jokes in a story that revolve around hallucinations? Not in a ‘that person is so crazy hahahaha’ way, more like the humour comes from the character being exasperated because their hallucinations aren’t realistic and are clearly fake to them, but they’re still seeing them and they’re fed up of it.

I partially wanted to include this so that the character’s hallucinations aren’t considered to be only just scary and evil (there are some moments in the story where the hallucinations are more intense because of the character being in a bad mental place, so I wanted to avoid showing hallucinations as only dark), and partially because one of their regular hallucinations revolves around seeing wild animals, and they don’t live in an area where the animals they typically see are common, so naturally they’d be out of place. Also, this idea for the jokes mostly came from the fact that I personally suffer from paranoia/intrusive thoughts, and get very exasperated when I know one of my thoughts is unrealistic, but I’m aware that my experiences are different from people with psychosis, so wanted to check in here. Thanks:3

Hello!

Yes, I think it definitely can be done in a way that's respectful. Psychosis is obviously serious and can be scary, but so are a lot of other things that people make jokes about. I have made jokes about some of my hallucinations and I know other people who do that as well.

I think I see where you're coming from with the idea, but I will say first that even the hallucinations that are extremely obviously fake (including to the person experiencing them at that time who is aware that it's not real) can still be very stressful and scary. To have myself as an example here, a few years ago I had a visual hallucination that was clearly out of place, essentially nonsense. I'm fairly good at recognizing when I'm hallucinating something and was able to tell "that's not there, it's literally fake". At that time I did actually make fun of it because Lol, saw Weird Thing, and it was kinda funny, but it doesn't mean I didn't also stare at it and had my heart rate go up a dangerous amount. Being scared in a situation with a clearly Strange Thing of that nature is an uncontrollable physical response I think (I'm presuming it's much less intense for people who hallucinate very frequently or at all times), kinda like getting a fake spider thrown at you - you know it's fake approximately 1 second after the fact and it can be funny, but your body is still going through some sort of response because for that 1 second it took you to figure that out you got scared.

This is a very long way to say that this is both a thing that your character could joke or be frustrated by ("Why do I still feel dizzy, it was literally just [XYZ]? What the fuck.") and that scary hallucination =/= hallucination you can't joke about. Some people will actually make fun of the more distressing ones because it can be a decent coping mechanism when you're scared. It can ease up the tension, especially if other people see you and don't know what to do (it's absolutely awkward).

My one advice on the type of jokes the character makes is to keep in mind how they relate to actual psychotic people. E.g., don't make a joke that has "you'd have to be stupid to not notice that something is a hallucination" as an objective conclusion because well, a lot of us can't tell. I suppose it could be different if the character is being self-deprecating and just insulting themselves, but if you're going that in-depth on the character I'd recommend working with a sensitivity reader.

Basically try to consider - is the character joking about themself and their hallucination, or are they just punching down psychotic people? Again, jokes on how "psychotic people be like" aren't sacred or fully off limits, but it's not really what I'd be looking for from an outsider author.

There's also I think room for showing hallucinations as strictly scary/dark (most, if not all of us have/had these), it's just to not have horror soundtrack playing during it. If (example) your character experienced the most movie-stereotypical "demons, blood, satanic activity" type hallucinations and was actually treated with sympathy, I wouldn't consider it to be demonization of psychosis. Sometimes it can be scary and ugly, but it doesn't make the person experiencing it an evil monster.

I hope this helps,

mod Sasza

[holnnetd]

Omg omg omg, how does Konig react when he sees a bunny hybrid in comparison???

Now that got me thinking.

How would König react to Hare!Reader next to a bunny hybrid?

(To be absolutely honest, I don't know. So this is badly written, sorry not sorry😊 please make specific requests or I will disappear for 5 months with no other idea about what to write 😞)

"Sht." He held his hand up to silence any noise you might have made. You both stood before the old, wooden door, his hand clutching onto the rifle, tightening his grip before checking the handle, confirming that the metal is twistable.

With a deafening silence, he pushed the handle and charged in, rifle at eye level, making sure no one was hidden in the room in the complete darkness. In case there stood someone with a knife, ready to plunge it into his very biteable neck. Good for him, no one threatening was there. You followed, covering his back in case of any surprise attack.

Not that you'd want him to stay unscarred, but your pay would be cut if he went and started complaining to the commander about you not doing your job "correctly".

...

A breathless whimper comes out from the dark corner and you avert your eyes to look at the source of fear. Ah. The hostage. God, the whole objective of this mission was a hostage rescue. Some rich assholes kid got taken as blackmail.

"Found the hostage." He murmured, talking into his radio. "The threat is neutralised. No known threats nearby." His voice rings out, ensuring we are safe for the time being. Really, it wasn't hard to find this hideout. The guys were just broke blokes, probably working for some mafia.

You glance at the not so kid like kid.

... That's a young adult, not that much of a kid.

It's a... ah... it's hard to pinpoint their gender.

The rich bastard said something about daughter and money. And some thing else, you are sure. But what it was? That's the better question.

König stares at the hybrid with light confusion. Ah yes, not only has he never met a bunny hybrid but he doesn't know what an androgynous person is.

Fucking old school. Keep up with the times my man. Its the 21st century, guys wear dresses and women peg their boyfriends with 10 inch straps. A girlish-boy or boyish-girl should be least of his concerns.

"Jesus." You huffed out, freeing your hands from any weapon and walked closer to the hostage. A rabbit hybrid. Short black ears, large beaded eyes and fairly frail with a decent amount of squish. That's a cute face though.

"Hello." You greet them, smiling. They seem to be quite confused, as one is. To be honest the kidnappers must have been so shit even their hostage wasn't scared, rather confused. "We're here to rescue." You add, glancing back at the overly silent behemoth behind you for confirmation.

He seems to be deep in thought, staring between the hostage and teammate. "... That's what?" He blurts out offhandedly, not knowing any manners.

"That's... the hostage. A person. Which is addressed by who, not what."

"Ah, yes, yes. Of course. I mean the breed." Bitch, really? Did wolfs raise you? Scratch that, even they have more respect.

"..."

It's still an ongoing discussion as to what hybrid types should be called. Breeds or races. It's... subjective, but damn... Read the room.

"They are a rabbit." You clarify. But he doesn't seem satisfied with that answer.

"...But you don't look the same." He retorts gruffly, GENUINELY confused why a rabbit isn't the same as a hare.

Of fucking course. He never learns, does he?

Ahem. Right. Lets pretend the hostage never saw the abuse you unleashed upon the huge man after that stupid comment.

"Can... can we go?" They ask slowly, staring at the huge man trying to shield himself from the fists flying his way.

"Ah, yes." He gruffs, feeling that the hits you laid on him might end up with a bruise on his already scarred skin.

"So, you two are related? Do your 'periods' sync up?" A humourless joke came out of his mouth and I'm pretty sure that might be the last joke he has ever voiced.

"Okay, now you crossed the line." Is all he hears before his nose was broken. Once more.

He has only himself to blame.

[a-killer-obsession]

It's a SMUT Blog so I'm not shy to ask 😋.. Kid and Killers dicks..how do they differ from eachother? Length and Girth? Piercings? Hair? Circumsized with thick veins? 🤤

I saw this right before going to sleep but I was too eepy to answer, so instead I just kept thinking about it which means now it's gonna be a whole thing *flexes fingers*

I won't talk on circumcised tho cos its not really a thing in my country so I don't know much about it, in all my years of slutting around I never met a circumcised dick, but I'll include some other saucy details

Anway, now presenting:

☠️ Kid Pirates ☠️

Equipment headcannons 🍆

🔞 Minors DNI 🔞

Kid

Smallest of the gang in length at barely 7" but built like a fucking monster energy can with a girth that'll split you right in fucking half

No piercings, thick prominent veins. Hes pale as hell and that extends to his dick, with skin that translucent its practically red when it's engorged

I think since he never even has stubble after being in prison that he can't actually grow a beard, so by that thinking I reckon he doesn't actually have much hair on the rest of his body other than a thin ginger scattering. So his bush is bright fucking red and untrimmed but there's not that much to begin with

The biggest balls you'll ever see on a man, he's built for breeding

Decently big loads when he comes, but they're super thick so they don't go far

Absolutely rancid dick tho tbh, it'll have you gagging for all the wrong reasons. Someone get this man in a bath fr

Grower

Killer

Second longest after Wire at 8", slender and fairly smooth, the prettiest dick you'll ever see with a slight curve (like his scythes, ha)

One piercing at the end that Kid convinced him to get, he'll use his devil fruit to vibrate it if he wants Killer's ✨️attention✨️

Slightly darker than his tan skin, pretty in pink at the head

Thick blonde pubes that stand out against his tanned skin, with a lovely happy trail, but he keeps it tidy and clean 👌

Cums a shit ton, long thin spurts that'll cover your whole torso and maybe even get your face if he's pent up. Masturbating is a whole fucking ordeal for him cos of the cleanup

Grower, but impressive flacid anyway

Heat

7.5", somewhere between Kid and Killer's girth, slightly more bulbous towards the end.

Strange colour considering his strange grey-brown skin. His dick is almost purple brown, more purple at the head.

Set of three piercings like a ladder up the underside. Veiny but not as prominent as Kid.

Full bush baby, and its WILD down there. Thick blue pubes to match his hairy legs and happy trail, he's never even considered trimming.

The most average cumshots of the crew, a pretty regular amount, generic consistency, short spurts, maybe long enough to hit your tits if he's pent up. Absolutely drips precum though

Shower (I realise now that word has two meanings. I mean show-er. Obviously)

Wire

An absolute fucking monster to match his height. 10" and THICK. Got into BDSM purely because it takes so fucking long to prep someone to take him that he needed something to spice up the long foreplay. There's no possibility for a quickie with this man, its a whole ordeal (please ask me about my Kid Pirate kinks please please please 🙏 edit: here they are)

Dark brown, almost chocolate at the tip. Veiny as hell. So big and heavy that it can't support it's own weight so its always dropping even full mast

Clean shaved, Wire is a man who takes the upmost pride and care when it comes to his dick. No piercings because his dick is already so massive he's scared the pressure would rip them clean out when he fucks

Hes like a endless fucking volcano when he cums and it's THICK. He prefers to finish inside but it's always so much that combined with his size it simply won't all fit. You'll be dripping for hours afterwards

Shower, I don't know where this man is keeping it in those shorts, tucked for sure

[ghoulfuckersincorporated]

(I love your writings, you are an impeccable smut machine)

But I raise you The ghoul being dotted/cared/comforted a bit later in the relationship from a sweet S.O/ partner etc… how would he react??? ( hurt/comfort be making my brain go brrrr)

Have good now❤️

This is the Cooper hurt/comfort request that doesn't have smut in it, and it's the only one of the couple I've been working on that stayed within a reasonable word count. I will let that speak for itself. Thanks for reading, Anon!

One of the funny ("please work with me, here" funny, not "ha-ha" funny) things about Cooper is that he's easy to hurt and difficult to comfort. Particularly so if you two are becoming close, but still feeling growing pains in your personal relationship. His desire for closeness is so overwhelming that it paralyzes him, leaving him afraid to lean on you, lest you flee (or worse, collapse) under the weight of all his issues. For all this time, he's suffered in silence through his worst days, his emotions a tertiary concern at best. Why should now be any different, especially if he wants you to stick around?

When you try to talk to him early on, sensing an emotional "in" as the two of you gravitate towards one another more and more, he likes to deflect with the remark that he didn't bring you into the partnership that led to what you are now to be his therapist. He's developed a hard shell out of necessity over the many decades, but that hard shell protects a still-sensitive core hidden deep inside.

It takes him an almost immeasurable amount of time to reach a decent level of trust with anyone, but once you make it there, the ache in his chest that yearns for understanding and companionship only intensifies. He wants to be known, to be cared about, but to get what he wants, he has to be ready to make himself more vulnerable than he's willingly been in lifetimes. It's difficult and painful and terrifying, and it feels like he fucks it up more often than not. What hurts more is the knowledge that he used to be capable of this, that it came naturally to him at one time.

It's pretty easy to hurt his feelings or put him in a pensive mood, actually. Not that he'd say anything out loud about it. However, there are very clear signs, changes in his behavior that only someone who knew him fairly well would pick up on. He's quieter, less present in the sharpness of his remarks. Meaner.

The fact that you notice these things about him is both flattering and annoying, as you grow bold enough to investigate what's wrong when you do. He's long grown used to the toxic, numbing comfort that simply swallowing down and stewing on his emotions affords him, and you knowing him to this level leaves him feeling rather exposed.

You're quite surprised to find he's actually very sensitive about his looks, what with as prone as he is to using jokes at his own expense as a disarming tool. You're less surprised to find that he's really only sensitive about them when it comes to what you think or say. It's both flattering and almost surreal to wrestle with; typically, you choose your words carefully with Cooper to avoid the cutting sting of his razor-sharp tongue should you say anything stupid. As it turns out, it's a bit of a different art to mind someone's ego, especially while pretending you aren't.

But eventually, with patience and more hard-fought digging into the bedrock of who he is, you find that he's also pleasantly susceptible to apologetic flattery and flirtations, rather easy to draw into a genuine apology with a few complimentary kisses. It's some of the most nakedly human behavior you see from him, this man who leans so hard into othering himself as a defense: failing to resist the charms of a pretty lady one is enamored with, eager for attention, affirmation.

Some hurts are easier to soothe than others, though.

Accidental (or intentional) insensitivities are plentiful in the world you two find yourself in, including your own. After a relatively short amount of time wandering the desert compared to him, even you develop a certain level of thick skin to just how cruel people can sometimes be. But not all wounds come from the outside. There are times where that hard mantle of pure anger fractures just enough to allow the ocean of sadness beneath to be glimpsed for a moment.

When he reveals to you that he's spent all this time looking for his daughter, something really changes between you.

Beginning in that moment, it's in these incredibly vulnerable times that he lets you in the easiest, the torment of what he's missing aching down into his bones and sending him scrambling for whatever he can find to ease the pain. Often it's booze, chems. Harsh, needless violence. More than once you've watched him pick deadly fights like it's compulsory, drowning himself afterwards in whatever he can find that's highest-proof.

You would be lying quite obviously to say that you didn't prefer when he seeks comfort from you, instead. Usually, this consists of him simply using you as a sort of sympathetic ear, a shoulder to cry drunkenly on. You're often silent, not sure anything you might say wouldn't fall entirely flat at best. You know where your family is, know they're probably safe without you, even if your feelings about being separated from them weigh heavily on you sometimes. You made the choice to leave; they weren't taken from you.

It's the not knowing that's the hardest, he tells you in not-so-many words. When he's this raw, the far-away look in his eye unsettles you deeply. It's like you can see the pain of centuries of search and struggle reflected there.

Sometimes that far-away gaze is especially wet-looking, and that's when you tuck your chin on top of his head and allow him to hide his face in your throat. You know he hates to cry, that he hates it more with an audience, so you don't look. When you feel warm trails running down the side of your neck, you don't say anything.

Every once in a rare while, when he begrudgingly accepts that you already know exactly how exposed he is, he softly pins you down and rests his head on your stomach or chest, allowing you to fully hold him as close as you want, cradling the back of his head with your hands. This is a behavior you only see when he knows the two of you are truly alone; who knows what sort of damage could be done to the fearsome reputation of Thee Ghoul if people found out he likes to be held when he's sad?

You swear moments like these are the closest you see him get to real rest, to peace, to sleep. He tells you they're no such thing, but when he's truly beaten down, you find him in your lap more and more. You don't complain.

[falmerbrook]

How are the Falmer hitting me with arrows? (headcanons on how Falmer navigate and hunt/fight)

I'm keeping up the Falmer headcanon momentum.

So Falmer in Skyrim (the game) have a blind effect applied to them and fortify sneak. As I'm sure anyone who has plundered a Dwemer ruin has experienced, despite their blindness, those buggers sure can shoot and arrow. As a matter of fact, they have a surprising amount of archers in their communities. There's also a question of how they are able to navigate the often treacherous Dwemer cities filled with dangerous guarding contraptions and tall drops. So here's my thoughts on how they get around and navigate/fight/hunt so well.

Echolocation

You know what other (real life) creature has poor eyesight, big ears, and is able to pinpoint small targets for hunting? Bats.

I like to imagine that Falmer are in the early stages of evolving echolocation. While they don't have the precise echolocation capabilities of bats, I headcanon they can use it to get a general picture of the size and shape of their surroundings, so they can get a decent idea of obstacles, the size of a room/cavern, if there is a gap or cliff, and if an object or creature is moving around. Falmer moving about will use echolocation to navigate (akin to using something like a cane to just detect obstacles or walls), and while on guard or hunting they can use it to scan an area to get a baseline for what the area is like and therefore if something changes within it.

Bats that have evolved echolocation tend to have large ears to better pick up the reflected noises, and strange looking wrinkles and folds in their faces to help reflect or project the sound to the ears better. This could explain the wrinkles on Falmers' faces and the larger ears (I also tend to make their ears bigger than in the games in my drawings for that reason).

That all being said, for your consideration, please imagine if Falmer's faces looked like this:

(Wrinkle-faced bat, white-throated round-eared bat, vampire bat, horseshoe bat, great stripe-faced bat, slit-faced bat)

And if they sounded like this (as I picture it, it would be a sort of secondary noise set alongside their normal vocalizations that we hear in-game):

(in real life, this is more of a noise you can feel in your head than hear)

(this one is slowed and pitched down so we can hear it)

Clairvoyance

I've often wondered (these are the sorts of things I think about while I'm working) how clairvoyance would work in-universe, but I think it could be useful to someone (or a group of someones) who can't see. For those who don't know, clairvoyance is an illusion spell in Skyrim (the game) that shows a blue magical path towards the current objective (quest marker). They way I like to headcanon it, the way clairvoyance works in-universe can vary, but it’s mostly used for giving the mind’s-eye an “image” of the route/location of what the caster is thinking about. It’s like a mix of a clarity of understanding (a “eureka!” moment) and a mental picture. It’s a spell that requires pretty heavy concentration and mental training, since it requires not only casting the spell but maintaining a certain objective in your mind.

Falmer have figured out how to use it to “see” (understand) their surroundings in a way that allows them to fight, hunt, and navigate complex architecture. It’s not a replacement for sight though, just a way of adjusting without it. This is the skill that allows them to use bows with fairly good accuracy. They understand this spell more as a navigational skill than what the above world sees it as (a spell). I imagine they have their own very different system of understanding and classifying magic since they've been so separated from the rest of the world, but that's a post for another day.

While echolocation is mostly used for purely navigating and scanning the environment to get a sense of scale and placement, clairvoyance is used more for a specific purpose, whether that be to navigate to a specific point, navigate difficult terrain, pinpoint the position of a target/enemy, find something (an object they lost, a friend or family member, etc.), etc. While a guard or hunter may use echolocation to scan, they may then use clairvoyance to pin down a potential threat. Usually, unless one is very skilled in magic, they can only focus on a single target or subject at a time using clairvoyance, and it is a learned skill that most individuals have at least a basic grasp on, but only those more skilled in magic can use for complex, frantic, or stressful situations. They don't see it so much as a spell to learn and master, but rather a basic skill of life, like how we may see learning to read and write.

Of course, part of their ability to navigate also just comes down to having been born that way and just naturally learning the placement and arrangement of things in their environment. They don't know what they're missing, and like a blind person or animal, could adapt to it in their own non-magical ways as well. The magic and evolution just help them thrive.

Anyway, thanks for reading another Falmer Post™!!

[midnight-mourning]

Icy Sights

❄️❄️Midnight's DCA December Day 22❄️❄️

really enjoyed this one, been a bit since I went ice skating and was fun to write about the boys giving it a shot (and failing miserably), hope you enjoy!

Prompt: please take the bots ice skating. I feel like they would be awkward as hell but they'd really want to try. or sun would? who knows about moon lol bonus points for y/n being decent enough to hold the boys' hands and steady them while skating backwards or something, if not good enough to show off with some tricks.

Word Count: 1466

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You open the front door, cold hitting your face immediately. Following this a flurry of something rushing past you, hurrying out to your car. 

Collecting your senses again, you see Sun buzzing by the passenger door, hopping up and down. 

"Come on, Sunshine! Let's go!"

You chuckle. "Alright, alright, at least let me lock the front door first."

The temperatures had drop drastically in your area, meaning not only was there bountiful amounts of snow, but additionally, it was cold enough for things to freeze. Including the nearby lake. And when your bots had found this out, they were immediately begging for you to take them skating. 

So here you were, driving out of town in the direction of the frozen body of water, two pairs of skates and the attendant in tow. 

It's a pleasant ride, the car toasty and comforting as town fades away, being replaced by tall pines. The landscape is nothing but white and green, bits of snow falling here and there but nothing overtly steady. 

Sun fiddles with the radio, looking for the exact right Christmas song to be playing. 

"How much do you two know about ice skating, anyhow?" You ask, slowing down for a moment as a doe and her fawn cross the road. "I know you've roller-skated, but this is a little different."

Sun watches the deer with awe, face pressed to the glass long after you've passed them. "We've watched roughly 142 videos about it now! So it should be a piece of cake!"

"Watching isn't exactly the same as doing." You chuckle. "But I'm sure you'll catch on quick."

You arrive at the lake, parking under some trees where the snow is thinner. Sparing a glance, you see it's fairly empty. There's two fisherman well out on the ice—thus ensuring you that it's more than thick enough—but beyond that there's not a soul. Sun's already out of the car and rushing down to the shore before you've even turned the vehicle off, and you can't help the laughter that erupts from you because of it. 

When you finally get out on the ice, you aren't sure what to expect. You let Sun finish lacing up his skates, choosing to take a moment to remember how to skate after so long. You glide out onto the ice, going about fifty yards before coming to a stop, feeling good about yourself. 

You decide to try a few tricks, gaining momentum again to do a couple spins, and even skating backwards for a few moments. You—to your delighted surprise—nailed them all. Still got it.

With a grin you turn around to call out to Sun, only to have to cover your mouth to keep from laughing.

Sun was just a few feet out onto the ice, arms out in front of him and legs shakier than a newborn fawn. A few seconds later your giggles turn to wide eyed surprise as his feet suddenly goes out from under him and he falls flat on his face. 

You quickly skate back to him in a rush. "Sun! Oh my gosh are you okay?"

"Just fine, Starlight!" Though his shaky thumbs up implies otherwise. 

You bend down to help him back up, keeping hands on him until he's standing and steady again. "Sorry, I should have been over here, just got a bit excited to be out on the ice."

"Oh no, no, it's okay! You were, amazing." Sun says, hints of awe in his words. 

Heat blooms across your cheeks. "I don't know about that. I was just trying to see what I could remember, honestly." You shake your head. "Here, let's take it slow, I'll guide beside you and when you're ready you let me know, okay?"

Sun nods, and you shift your hold on him to just hovering by his arms. "Now, keep your knees just a little bent, yeah just like that. And you just kinda push off with one foot, than the other. Really, you're balancing on one foot most of the time. Does that make sense?"

Sun hums, and the two of you continue on, moving slow, but steady. Bit by bit he picks up a little speed. 

"There you go! You're doing amazing, Sunny." You smile, peeking up to him. 

His rays spin, but his focus remains forward, determined. "Okay, I think I'm ready!"

"Great! I'm gonna back off now. Just keep doing what you're doing." You shift away, still skating along beside him just a bit further away. 

Sun continues to skate for a bit, shaky every so often but stays on his feet. "I'm doing it, I'm really doing it! Look at me Sunshine I'm—" He turns to you, and then immediately loses his balance, falling once more. He starts to get back up again after a moment. "I'm okay..."

This goes on several more times over the next few hours. But, regardless of you insistent that he can and should take a break, he refuses. So, you end up spending lunch watching him out on the ice, trying your best to be encouraging from the sidelines. 

Besides just trying to skate, he begs you to teach him any and all the tricks you know, even the more complex ones that require more experience.

You feel bad for the bot, because you can tell he's trying his best, but this is his first time, he can't expect to pick it up immediately. Not to mention how nervous he obviously is, why else would his hands tremble as he holds yours, while you guide him around, skating backwards so you can chat. 

The stutter in his tone, the way his rays flick side to side. The way he won't always meet your gaze as you try to give words of encouragement or praise. 

It comes to a head as the day starts to turn to night, the stringed lights the line the perimeter of the lake beginning to come on. You'll admit, you're tired, and that's likely the cause of the incident. After being on the ice all day long, it's hard not to be, but you'd been so determined to make sure they enjoyed the day that you'd push your feelings to the side. 

It'd been a slight misstep, you'd been trying to turn with the two of you and hit a skip in the ice. Not reacting at first, you skid, and it's too late to correct course, you fall forward, pushing Sun into falling back. You land on top of him with a muffled groan and an apology. 

After a moment's rest, you push up, eyes meeting his. 

"Sorry." You say again. "Lost my focus."

Sun's hand comes up to your cheek, caressing it. "It's okay. You're tired. We should have stopped a while ago. I'm sorry."

"No! No it's been fun. I'm just sorry you've been so nervous all day, I wish I'd been able to provide you more support." 

"Nervous? What—" He stops, and starts to laugh. "Sunshine, I'll admit I was fluster, but not because I was afraid of falling. I'd been wanting to impress you, we both were. But you're um, encouragement was a bit... distracting."

It takes a moment, but then your face flushes with embarrassment. "Ah. Sorry. Again."

Sun sits up slightly, pressing his smile to your lips. "No need to apologize. I'm more than content to end up like this, truthfully."

You share a giggle, and a few more kisses before you get up again. 

Because there's only a little light left in the day, you wait until it's dark enough for Moon to at least try and skate before considering heading home. 

He's a little better at it than Sun, but only slightly. You think it's cute how hard he's concentrating, trying to not fall nearly as many times. 

"You're doing pretty well, Moon-man." You say as you skate beside him, taking in the night air and the light of the moon above you. It's peaceful, serene. 

He shushes you, though teasingly. "No distractions, Star."

You huff. Then, get an idea. 

You skate over to in front of him, keep pacing as you lean forward just a tad. 

"I just wanted to give you a compliment. You are doing great." There's a small smirk on your lips. "And handsome, have I told you you're handsome yet today?"

Moon chuckles, then starts to pick up speed, reaching out for you. "That's it, you're in trouble now."

"Noooo." You laugh, also speeding up so you can get away. 

You spend the rest of the night chasing each other around the ice, laughing all the while. You're going to be sore tomorrow, but it's not anything some cuddling and a warm drink can't fix. For this, it's worth it.

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Thank you @juukai for the request!! loved writing the scenery for this one, very cozy and fun ^-^

Masterpost link

Tag list (if you would like added, see this post for more info):

@scarletcowboy @beemyhuneybee @fishm0ther @deviouscrackers @elsajoyagent8

@luckyyyduckyyy @zenkaiankoku @jogimote @local-shrub @amarynthian-chronicles

@robinette-green @everlightreader @sinister-sincerely @starredeclipse @dangerva

@juukai @crystalmagpie447 @mothgutz236 @lizyxml @divinit3a

[riddle-me-ri]

Can I request Lupin iii characters finding themselves in one bed situation with the reader. I am a sucker for this trope :3

a/n: AAAHHHH omg anon, would you believe me if I told you I was literally already in the middle of writing these exact scenarios for each of the characters because the minute it hit my brain it wouldn’t leave, the absolute chaotic fluffy gold of the one bed trope mixed with this gang of characters…like yes, it’s perfect!! I know some would love and some would loathe the idea, and this is also sorta allowing me to get a handle on all five of them. I've taken in a decent amount of Lupin media (not nearly all of it…nowhere even close rip) that I think I got a decent handle on them, but some OOC-ness may still occur and thoughts may change as I watch more of the series and some of the films. Anyways, hope you guys enjoy, especially you too same brain anon  

Content Warning: midly sexually suggestive content but nothing outright explicit, somewhat fluffy in some parts

For context: Lesson learned; don't let Lupin make hotel reservations (or Zenigata for his scenario). Now you're forced to share a bed with a member of the gang…and some seem more receptive to the idea than others. Reader is gender neutral and this is pre-relationship, but it's fairly obvious on both ends there's feelings. (also for Zenigata's part, you're an officer from another department so not quite an inferior to Zenigata plus you have known him for some time, hence why you say his first name) 

Lupin the Third and Gang Sharing the Same Bed Trope with Reader

Lupin The Third:

In all honesty, you should’ve seen this coming a mile away. Lupin was the one who assured everyone he would take care of all the arrangements, and no one had to worry about a thing…you should’ve known that was way too good to be true. Yet as the keys were distributed, you were left without one. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me…” You lifted your brow suspiciously, eying the lanky thief. 

Lupin winced. “I’m afraid not…” He wraps an arm around your shoulders and brings you closer to his side, some feign attempt at comforting you.

He sighed dramatically. “Oh, whatever will we do? Wherever could you lay your pretty weary head…” 

Soon, his expression of distraught turned into one of mischief. You could tell as the curve of his smug grin reached his cheekbones. 

Lupin leaned his temple against yours as he sweetly offered. “Oh I know…you could share a bed with me!” 

It wasn’t exactly a secret that you were attracted to the gentleman thief, but you didn’t want to come off as easy pickings for him either. Lupin never hid his affections from anyone he was attracted to, making you an easily flustered mess of a human being. 

Which is how you ended up saying yes, despite trying to come off as if you had no other choice. The others didn’t come to your defense either, so you felt stuck anyhow. 

As you walked out of the bathroom in your night clothes, you were greeted with the sight of Lupin sprawled out on the bed, propped up to face you, and his eyebrows wiggling suggestively. 

You didn’t know whether to chuckle at the sight or throw something at his face. You decided on rolling your eyes dismissively as you slowly made your way to the bed. 

“You’re way too excited about this arrangement.” You commented. 

“Maybe…” He drawled out nonchalantly as if he wasn’t softly kicking his feet at the foot of the bed. 

“Well you should maybe scoot over, and no funny business, I’m exhausted.” You sternly stated, pointing an authoritative finger in his face.

Lupin lifted his hands up in mock surrender as he scooted to the other side of the bed, which you noticed faced the front door to the room.

“Okey dokey, nothing funny…” He leaned his head to the side. “...tonight.”

“Lupin! I heard that!” Now you did vouch for hitting him with a pillow, mostly because you didn’t want him to see the blush on your face. 

“Ow. Ow. Okay, okay!” Lupin dodges most of your hits, just barely saving himself from falling off the bed entirely. “

You two eventually settled into your spots, after bickering with Lupin to sleep the other way with your backs facing each other. A part of you wanted to let him touch you, hold you, or even cuddle but knowing Lupin…give that man an inch and he’ll take a mile. You didn’t want to screw up the dynamic you had now…

Yet as you woke up the next morning to Lupin’s soft snoring and a lazy arm wrapped around your waist with him facing you…you can’t help but smile. 

Maybe just maybe you could get used to this. 

Jigen Daisuke

When the problem arises, he can’t help but lower his hat somehow further down than it already was. He knew this was one of Lupin’s stupid schemes, and he wanted nothing more than to just throw you his hotel room key, and he opted for sleeping in the car. Not that he wasn’t entirely against the idea, deep down, of sharing a bed with you. 

Jigen’s woken up to worse things, people, scenarios…to wake up seeing your face would be a nice change of pace for once, but the last thing he wants is to make you uncomfortable. 

Then, when you asked if it was okay for you to share a space with him…he really couldn’t deny you, and if you were fine with it, then he figured he could be too. 

“Jigen…I know this is an awkward predicament, but I can’t let you sleep on the couch.”

“Huh?” He lifted the brim of his hat slightly to glance an eye at you. “Whatcha mean? I’ve always slept on the couch anyway…”

“Exactly! You should sleep on a proper bed once in a while…I know that couch can’t be that comfortable…” 

You felt way too guilty having the large king bed that could likely hold a family of four to yourself while Jigen settled for the couch. 

“There's enough space that we could be in two different city limits…”

Jigen chuckled. You weren’t wrong, and you are way too cute for your own good. 

“If I come over there, will you let me sleep?” 

You nodded. “Yes.” 

Jigen sighed before slowly rising from the couch. You tried not to smile too widely out of excitement, you didn't expect him to give in that quickly. 

But much like before, if you ask something of him, he finds it incredibly difficult to say no.

Jigen discarded his suit jacket, tie, shoes, and socks but stayed in his dress shirt and hat. 

“Scoot over, I should be facing the door.” He waved his hand, motioning you to move under the covers. 

You leaned your head sideways as you watched him try to light one of his bent cigarettes. 

“You're gonna sleep with your hat on?” You inquired with a perked eyebrow. 

Jigen grinned. “The hat always stays on...if I can help it.” 

Fair enough, you found yourself eventually dozing off before Jigen. 

Jigen stayed awake for a while and thought about sneaking back over to the couch, but then he felt pressure on his chest. Your head laid gently over his now rapidly beating heart. Your soft rhythmic breathing fanning softly against his shirt. 

Well, he can't move now, but he couldn't find himself minding the predicament too much. 

Goemon Ishikawa XIII

This man's face is as hot as the rising sun over Japan. Speaking of, was it too late for him to return to Japan for some more training or search for enlightenment? He could use a lot of the latter right now.

Goemon can't say he could blame you for choosing to room with him. 

Lupin was far too eager to volunteer (which made Goemon grit his teeth), Jigen wasn't all that inviting, and Fujiko had already left for her room as soon as she got her key.

Also, he did find the issue…beneficial. Goemon would know where you are and be able to keep you safe, especially at your most vulnerable.

Not that he didn't think you couldn't handle yourself, but he just felt more at ease knowing your condition. 

However, you weren't at ease with him sleeping upright on the floor in the corner next to the door.  

“Goemon…please…I feel bad.” 

He cracked open one of his eyes. “This is the most appropriate solution.” 

“But when was the last time you actually laid down on a bed to sleep? And for a heist doesn't count!” 

“It is none of your concern. I will be fine. Please just rest.” 

“I won't rest unless you sleep with me!” 

Goemon grits his teeth and furrowed his brows as his face reddened. 

“N-Not like that!” You corrected, your own face slightly heating up. “I just…you should get some rest too…properly…please?” 

Goemon closed his eyes with a long sigh as he seemed to straighten his posture. 

You furrowed your brows with a huff as you turned your head to the side to face away from him. 

However, you stayed true to your condition, with crossed arms, you were upright in bed and wide awake. 

Goemon sighed as he stood up slowly. “Why must you be so stubborn..” 

“That's rich coming from you.” You chuckled. 

“I am only doing this so that you may finally go to sleep. Nothing more.” Goemon grabbed some of the spare pillows you weren't currently laying on and promptly formed a small pillow wall between you and the empty spot on the bed. 

You looked up at him incredulously. 

“A pillow wall?” 

He nodded before setting Zantetsuken down directly beside his side of the bed. 

“To refrain from any…indecent accidental touching.” He explained. 

You couldn't help but smile as you shook your head slowly in disbelief. “I can work with that.” 

Goemon hummed in acknowledgment as he got under the covers and faced the ceiling. 

Anything to ignore the fact you were mere inches away from him. 

“Thank you…and good night, Goemon.” You said softly over the makeshift divider before nestling into your pillow. 

Goemon's eyes widened as he realized you were much closer than he thought if he could still hear you. Maybe his senses have truly progressed over time with his training?

“Good night…” He replied softly as if worried he'd already wake you. 

It took him hours before Goemon finally fell asleep to the sound of your soft breathing and the warm idea of you feeling the safest with him out of the gang.

Fujiko Mine 

To say Fujiko literally lunged at your wrist to drag you to her room was an understatement when she saw you didn't get a room key.

Lupin didn't even get a chance to invite himself with the two of you before you made it up to her room. 

Fujiko giggled as she flung you onto the bed. “It's been too long since we had some alone time together, wouldn't you agree?” 

Needless to say, you were both stunned but excited too to finally be alone with her for once. 

“W-What did you have in mind?” You asked. 

Fujiko giggled some more before leaning closer to your face with every other word she spoke next. “Well…I was hoping you could help me choose one of my new night gowns and then-” 

*KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK* 

Lupin whined your and Fujiko's name through the door.

“Don't tell me you two are having fun without meee…” 

Fujiko groaned. “We are Lupin, such a shame…if only you found that secret stash of a hundred million yen like I asked…you could join us.” 

You chuckled. You couldn't help but admire just how much she had Lupin wrapped around her finger. 

After some bickering through the door, Lupin finally let up, and Fujiko turned all her attention back to you. 

Your face was almost as red as one of Fujiko's teddies she tried on. You eventually went for the one that had your favorite color, having a feeling that's why Fujiko bought it in the first place. 

If you were okay with it, Fujiko would definitely sprinkle your face in kisses as you two cuddled in bed. Her soft and playful touch was too much to resist otherwise.  

It depends on you, whether you guys go to the next level or not. 

If it doesn't, as much as Fujiko would like to take it there, she respects your wishes and just enjoys the intimate proximity with you as she wraps her arms around you and does what she can to snuggle closer as you two drift off to sleep. 

Inspector Koichi Zenigata

Zenigata is fumbling with the rim of his fedora as you two stare at the king bed in the middle of the hotel room.

After more than half an hour of arguing with the front desk, Zenigata wasn't able to get you two out of this mess. 

“I-I'm sorry…I can uh…take the desk chair. I'll most likely be up late anyway…”

“Don't be ridiculous, Koichi, it's fine..look at it, it could fit a family of five. Neither of us would know the other is there.” 

You put a comforting hand on the tense man's shoulder. “Besides, you need to rest. How can Interpol’s finest catch the most wanted criminals without a good night's rest, hm?” 

If you were trying to give off the fact you were calm and collected about the situation, it was working. You could almost convince the butterflies in your stomach to calm down or keep the heat in your cheeks down to a minimum. 

“I-err…” Zenigata grumbled, unsure what to say. Mentally combatting between being professional or actually taking the chance to be closer to you. 

“It's fine, I promise. If I had to share a bed with anyone, it'd be you.” You walked over to the bathroom and began your night routine as you let the Inspector think it over. 

Zenigata almost dropped his hat at that claim. His heart swelled at the fact you trusted him that much. He put you at ease despite the hectic life he lived. 

When you were both ready to make the final decision for sleeping arrangements. You went first and pulled back the covers.

You smiled softly across the way as you saw Zenigata follow your lead. 

A dust of red tinted his cheeks. “I figured you'd get upset if I didn't get some rest.”

“And you figured right…” You got settled into the bed with Zenigata close behind. 

“Good night, Koichi.” You turned over to your side and closed your eyes with sleep not far from draping over your body. 

“G-Good night…” he softly said your name at the end, before he too turned over. 

When his face was out of your sight, he was finally able to fully express how surprised he was that this was actually occurring. His teeth chattered, his fingers fumbled with the edge of the blanket. He was only able to doze off by counting the rotations of the ceiling fan…

Zenigata woke up to you mumbling his name. He was immediately alert, whipping his head around the room at what you could be drawing his attention to. 

“Koichi…” You grumbled sleepily. “You're stealing the covers..” 

“Oh!” He looked down and saw he was tangled in the sheets, and you were exposed to the cold room despite the small square of the comforter. 

Zenigata panicked. In his anxious state, he must have been tossing and turning and took most of the covers. He quickly tried to unwrap himself and give back your share of the covers. 

“Wh-Whoa!” You sat up when you heard a solid thud hit the floor. 

You looked over the edge of the bed to see Zenigata somehow more tangled than before. 

You perked an eyebrow as you giggled. “Need help?” 

“Y-yes please…” He mumbled to himself. 

So much for an easy night's rest.