#but i think i am getting close to the point where i can properly figure out where my polygons are going

[ssspringroll]

im going to bed now. but we are getting there.

[flametrashiraarchive]

Reader teaching Haganezuka how to eat that kittykat and fuck it properly because we all know he's a virgin still uwu

(bonus points for size kink, implied age gap [reader 20s])

(bonus points and cookies for Haganezuka being so focused, listening very intently to the puss eating lesson but gets super into it and tunes out reader as he begins to figure what to do and he can't stop himself from overstimmulating reader, which has reader smacking his head so he finally lets go)

Argh yes okay here we go! I love this beautiful nutjob and I got carried away. (I left the age of the reader ambiguous because personally I am old as shit, but I think I get cookies still for the overstimmulating?)

Also... I really want to write a part 2. I want us to take care of him after the events of season 3 because I just know that once the adrenaline wore off this poor man was hurting so bad.

Anyway, enjoy!

UNBREAKABLE, UNQUENCHABLE.

F!Reader x Hotaru Haganezuka

Content Guidance: cunnilingus, fingering, unprotected vaginal sex, overstimulation, not stopping when reader tells him to (reader is still into it though)

Minors DNI.

"I don't make swords for civilians," the swordsmith said, his voice deep and his tone final. He turned away from you, continuing his journey down the mountain path, the soft thud of his footsteps accompanied by the gentle tinkling of the windchimes hanging from his hat.

Your heart sank for a moment before you steeled your resolve and renewed your determination. It was never going to be easy and you'd mentally prepared for rejection. This swordsmith was infamous for his unbending resolve and temper. 

Running a step ahead of him, you turned to stare into the wide bug-eyes of his hyottoko mask. "Please, Haganezuka... I need a nichirin blade."

He continued walking as if he expected to simply pass through you. "No."

"But it's the only thing I can use to kill demons."

He paused. "Demon slayers kill demons. Not civilians. No sword for you."

"I am a demon slayer, just not an official one." You brace yourself for a telling off. Usually whenever you admitted to going rogue you were met with lectures about the proper way to do things and told to leave things to the demon slayer corps— but their numbers were dwindling and you'd never quite figured out breathing styles well enough for your sensei to agree to send you to final selection. Still, hacking and slashing got the job done with the right blade. "Please, Haganezuka. I had a sword with your stamp on it before. It was the best blade I've ever had and—"

"Where did you get it?" His voice was strained as if forced between gritted teeth.

"I found it..."

"SOMEONE LOST MY SWORD?"

"Yes... maybe, but I found it. It served me well and I really want another."

He turned his face away from you slightly, making the windchimes ring. "What happened to it? Did you lose the sword too?"

"No, it broke."

You could've sworn he was vibrating. "m-m-m-m-m-m-my SWORD???"

The elongated lips of the mask poked your cheek as he stepped right up against you. His haori concealed the true size and density of his body, but with him standing so close, you could tell he was muscular and incredibly strong. He was also apparently unhinged, but then again, you reasoned, what was life without a little zest?

“YOU BROKE MY SWORD??”

You'd been pre-warned that his swords were the key to winning him over, so you kept your voice level as you emptied your arsenal. "Your sword was the finest sword I have ever seen. It was an honor to wield it, Mr. Haganezuka. Not even the blade of a hashira could compare to the sublime craftsmanship of that sword. I dream about that sword." You placed a hand on his chest, feeling the heat of his body pulse against your palm as you added in a lower, more sultry tone. "And I've dreamed about meeting the artist who forged such a perfect sword for a very long time."

His chest rose sharply as he pushed out the only response he could manage; a strained, breathless grunt.

Taking his broad, calloused hand in yours, you gazed into the eyes of his mask. "Mr. Haganezuka... please make me a sword?"

The trees swayed overhead, the sigh of the leaves the only break in the utter silence between you and the swordsmith.

"Mister Haganezuka?"

The windchimes tinkled. "Tell me your name."

You told him, and he repeated it back, slowly and carefully as if trying it out.

The mask's mouth moved to your nose as he stared you in the eyes. "Mine is Hotaru. Do you need a husband?"

"I... uhh..." you stammered, suddenly feeling very warm as the heat of his burly frame pulsed against you. "Do I need a..."

He carefully removed the hyottoko mask and with it, removed every particle of air from your lungs. Ravenette hair threaded with silver, amber eyes which glowed like the forge, dark, severe eyebrows which slanted downward as he awaited your answer. He was... beautiful, treading the fine line between painfully pretty and achingly rugged.

"Yes." You said firmly. "Yes I do need a husband."

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

Two days later you were married to Hotaru and about to spend your first night at the Swordsmith Village. Ordinarily, outsiders had to undergo a lengthy initiation process to ensure the village remained a secret, but the village chief fast-tracked your application and damn near pulled you through the gates himself.

It seemed he was just as keen as you were to get your marriage to Hotaru underway. In fact, the whole village pitched in to ensure your wedding went ahead quickly and without a snag.

“Thank you for marrying Hotaru,” the village chief whispered while you were in the middle of your vows. “You have no idea the relief you have brought to the village. We were beginning to lose hope. He has never shown any interest in anything besides swords. Once Hotaru finds something to focus his attention on it's nigh impossible to tear him away from it.”

Before you knew it, you were a wife, married to a man so introverted he spent the majority of your wedding day hiding behind a tree, peering out at you as you chatted to the villagers. In fact, he only came out from behind the tree when someone walked over to congratulate him on the marriage, and even then it was only to find a different tree to hide behind.

"Hotaru..." you sighed adoringly as you slipped away from the crowd to stand beside your husband in his hiding spot. "Are you unhappy?"

He shook his head. "No. I'm happy."

"Ah... You just prefer to be alone?"

"Yes. With you. I want to be alone with you."

He was a strange man, but he melted your heart with every other word. And Gods, he was beautiful. You yearned for him like no other. You craved him.

"Husband, for my wedding gift, will you—"

"No sword for you," he said firmly. "No fighting demons. No risking your life. You are my wife now and it's my job to protect you, even if that means protecting you from yourself. So no sword."

You couldn't help but smile. It seemed Hotaru's dedication to being a husband was as intense as his dedication to smithing.

"I promise, no more demon slaying, but I wasn't going to ask about the sword."

"Oh?"

You leaned in and whispered against his ear. "I was going to ask you to take me to bed."

His orange eyes snapped to your lips as though he couldn't quite believe what you had said. He cleared his throat and tried to speak but only managed a choked grunt.

Silence descended between you until he finally found his voice. "I don't know how to do… those things."

"I can teach you."

He didn't speak. He simply took your hand in his and led you away from the wedding party and deep into the woods. After a minute he looked back at you and picked you up, carrying you against his burly chest.

"Where are we going?" you asked.

"A place where we can be alone. They won't find us."

He carried you a little further, to a small, seemingly abandoned work shed. Inside there was a small forge and smithing tools, and a small living area with a bed and basic amenities. The air was thick with the lingering tang of smoke and molten steel.

"Is... this our home?"

Hotaru shook his head. "This is where I come to work in peace when I really need to concentrate.''

He set you down carefully beside the bed and waited. Except, he wasn't simply "waiting." Hotaru's eyes drank you in, gazing at you with soft reverence. He was so big, so intimidating and by all accounts completely lacking any kind of social skills, but you had won his heart entirely. He was softer than molten steel for you, and more than willing for you to hone and hammer him into the shape you desired him to be.

"Teach me," he said. "I'm ready."

You nodded, your heart thrumming with the anticipation of what was to come. "Okay. Would you like to use your fingers? Your tongue? Or your cock?"

"Yes. All. Teach me how to use them."

Marrying this strange man had definitely been one of your better decisions.

Closing the space between you, you wrapped your arms around your husband's neck and gazed into those fiery eyes. "Well, we should start with a kiss. Do you know how to do that?"

His brow knitted. "Yes of course I know how to kiss."

"Good. Then kiss me, Hotaru."

He leaned down and pecked your cheek.

"Was that good?" An expectant look lingered on his face, faltering by the second. "I... that's what you want, isn't it? Do you want more? I can give you more."

Gods, the man was completely uninitiated.

Still, you couldn't help but smile as he eagerly peppered your cheek with little kisses; dozens of them, soft and dry and so sweet. His brow remained furrowed in concentration throughout, and you remained patient as he expressed his devotion. But when they inched closer to the corner of your mouth you turned your face to press your lips to his. 

The moment your lips touched, he froze, eyes wide as you gently and slowly pulled him into your kiss.

His lips were still and stiff beneath yours as he adjusted to the new sensation. And then they softened. Gradually, tentatively, he followed your lead. His lips crept across yours, careful and slow like he was learning the steps to a new dance and didn't want to tread on you.

You licked the seam between his lips, easing your tongue through the gap as he inhaled sharply and he brought his hands to your waist.

And then something inside him snapped. A restraint cut loose.

He wound his arms around you, lifting you off the ground. The strength in his arms was breathtaking; forged by decades of tireless labor, and now wholly dedicated to you as he pushed you down onto the bed and slipped his tongue into your mouth, exploring this newfound pleasure.

Your kisses awakened a voracious appetite in him and before long he was devouring you with heated passion, barely giving you time to breathe. It was as if he had gone his entire life without intimacy, but once the dam had cracked it was impossible to stop the flood.

His tongue stroked yours again and again as his tough hands skated up the length of your legs. When he reached your knees he granted your tingling lips a reprieve, kissing your throat as he pushed up the skirt of your wedding dress and squeezed the tender flesh of your thighs with a wanton groan. 

"My pretty wife," he growled as you shifted beneath him, craving his touch. "Tell me how to make you feel good."

You parted your legs, pulling your skirt up all the way to reveal yourself to him. A sharp intake of breath expanded Hotaru's chest as he looked down at your pussy. A muscle in his cheek danced and his grip on your thighs tightened as his eyes filled with a look of pure hunger.

"Do you want to touch me?" you asked, your breaths coming in shallow bursts as anticipation coiled in your belly.

His answer was barely a whisper. "Very much." He swallowed hard. "May I?"

"Please... please do," you whispered, your need for him drowning out the rest of the world. It was just you and Hotaru, and nothing else mattered. 

The sound of his shaking breaths was the only break in the silence. His hand left your thigh and he gently brushed his fingertips along the edge of your folds. 

“Soft,” Was the only word which emerged from his lips as he stared and explored the shape of you. His orange eyes were focused, his perpetually furrowed brow somehow even more severe. Hotaru was lost in concentration, entirely focused on mapping the curves and ridges of your cunt.

You lay there on the bed, letting him find his bearings. His gentle exploratory touches sent shivers through your body. Those rough, calloused fingers touched you with such care and attentiveness. His eyes snapped back to yours every time you made a sound or breathed a little harder.

Hotaru was a devoted craftsman– his hands finely tuned tools– and they were dedicated entirely to your pleasure. He found your entrance and pushed a finger into you, watching intently as your pussy clenched around it.

You sighed in pleasure. "Gods, Hotaru, you're making me so wet…"

"Is that good? Am I making you happy?"

"Yes. That's good."

"Hm," he muttered, as if filing the information away. "A wet wife is a happy wife."

A sharp gasp escaped you as he nudged the hood of your clit with his thumb and his lips curved into a smile. 

"You like this, don't you?" He hummed pensively and circled your clit, spreading your wetness.

Squirming beneath him, you nodded as the heat on your cheeks blossomed. "Yes, Hotaru. Keep doing that."

Gods, those rough hands. They sent jolts of pleasure surging through your body as he lavished attention on your clit, fascinated by the way it swelled as he worked with dogged determination. He added another thick finger to your cunt, stretching you deliciously.

A quiet groan emerged from him as you began to fuck yourself on his fingers, hard and fast as he rubbed your clit. He watched you intently, his lips parting in sync with your cry as your first orgasm of the night rocked through your body.

"Oh look at you, my pretty wife with your sensitive little bead." He moved down your body, lowered his head and nuzzled your clit with his nose. 

"Ho-taru…"

The wet heat of his mouth closed over your tender bud, pulling another cry from your lips. 

"Ah! You like that too," he murmured as he knelt between your knees, his long, dark hair spread like strands of seaweed across your thighs. 

"Yes. D-do it again… please… use your tongue."

“My tongue?”

You sucked in a breath as he licked your clit with the tip of his tongue, tasting your essence. 

He groaned. "Mm~ fuck, this is good." 

"More… please…" 

In response to your demand, he raised his hand to press his thumb against your lower lip. "Show me how to lick you well."

Gods, this man. You took his thumb into your mouth, showing him exactly what to do, licking the tip of it as if it was your clit. He groaned as you lapped his thumb, his eyes fluttering shut as his jaw clenched. 

"That feels… huh…" He bit back a groan before burying his face in your pussy and replicating the motion on your clit.

Thank the Gods he has the foresight to take you away from the village, because the sounds he pulled from you were unholy. He was eager and so receptive to your lessons.

Hotaru put everything he had into eating your pussy; the slick, sucking sound of his mouth and his hot, wet tongue accompanied by your desperate cries. With every passing moment his confidence grew, pumping those thick fingers into you and curling them against your walls, his mouth and fingers working in tandem to give you more pleasure than you ever expected. 

As he pleasured you, he ground his hips against the mattress, groaning as he pushed his fingers deeper into your mouth. It was too good, too intense. Your senses were flooded with him; the sight of that beautiful man devouring you, the acrid scent of the forge, the lewd wet sound of his mouth on your cunt. And Gods, nothing had ever felt so good before. 

Hotaru was born to forge swords and eat pussy, and he did both with unbreakable focus. 

You sucked his fingers and he sucked your clit, groaning as he voraciously lapped the sensitive nub, driving you higher… higher…

An immense wave of pleasure crashed through you as you reached your peak, the force of your orgasm making your legs tremble. His name tore through you like a cry to the heavens, his answer a soft moan which vibrated through your core as he kept on licking. On and on, lapping at your pulsing clit as you gasped and bucked your hips against his insatiable mouth.

"Ho-taru… you did it… you made me–"

Taking his fingers from your mouth, he slung a heavy arm across your belly and continued eating you out, unrelenting, pulling another choked cry from you. Hotaru was drunk on you, on the taste and the knowledge that he was pleasing you; groaning, grinding his hips against the mattress, breathing in the intoxicating scent of you as he fluttered his tongue over your overstimulated clit.

The village chief had told you his focus was unbreakable, and now that attention was dedicated to your pussy. He was lost in you, wholly devoted to pleasuring you. You tangled your fingers in his hair, torn between needing respite and craving more. 

He propelled you from your second orgasm right into your third. Intense pleasure drove your head back against the pillow as you screamed in ecstasy and torment, your pussy throbbing beneath his lips as your nectar ran down his chin. And still, he licked you with an unquenchable thirst.

"Hotaru! Ho- oh it's too much.” 

He hit a spot inside your cunt which made the world shatter around the pair of you, sending you careening into another climax which turned your blood to liquid steel. “Too much! I can't!" You swatted at his forehead, smacking him with your fingertips as you wriggled out from beneath him. 

Your husband stared at you, dazed and breathless, his lips glistening with your slick juices. "Did… did I do it right?"

You gasped for air, trembling down to your bones. “You did it perfectly, Hotaru.” 

He pulled you into him and kissed you. You licked the taste of your desire from his lips, swallowing the low groan which rolled from his chest. His lips caressed yours with deep, undying passion, his hand dropping to the bulge tenting his hakama trousers.

“Let me take care of you now,” you whispered into his ear as your hand joined his, cupping his cock and making him moan. “Lie back for me, my love.”

He did as you asked without protest. It was true that you wanted to take care of him and give him as much pleasure as he had given you, but in a more practical sense, being on top of him allowed you to have control. You were already so fucked out, and from the feel of things–from the girth and weight of it through his trousers– control was definitely going to be necessary.

You stood from the bed and undressed as he gazed up at you, languidly palming his cock in his broad hand and drinking in the sight of you.

“Such a lovely wife,” he whispered, his orange eyes heavy with desire.

“And I have such a handsome husband…” you replied as you undressed him, revealing his big, muscular body inch by firmly hewn inch. He was a mountain of a man, and Gods, there wasn’t a thing you would change about him. “A handsome husband who pleases me well…” You kissed him, gently pushing him back and straddling his hips. “And who makes the very best swords in all the world–”

“Ohh…” He groaned, gripping your hips as you brushed the fat tip of his cock against your pussy. “Say that again.”

“Hm? That you’re the best swordsmith in the world?” You eased the top inch of him in, letting your body adjust to the sensation. “That your swords are works of art?”

“Gods, I want you,” he hissed, baring his teeth and gazing up at you from the pillow. A deep, longing groan emerged from him as you inched your way down his length. “You… you are…so warm… so wet… beautiful.”

You skated your hands over the plain of his abdomen, taking him deeper, your back arching as he stretched you even at that slow pace. When you finally reached the bottom of his shaft, you were breathless, tingling at your core. Hotaru was even less composed than you. 

The swordsmith growled, bending his knees to slide his legs up and down the mattress, fighting the urge to fuck up into you. His cock twitched inside you as you rocked forward to kiss him, your breasts pressed against his burly chest, his rough hands skating up your back. 

“I love you, Hotaru,” you whispered before rocking back to start riding his cock. 

“I–ngggh ohh… ohhh!” he groaned, eyes widening, fingers digging into your hips with bruising ferocity as you bounced on top of him. His control slipped almost immediately. 

He fell apart, groaning and thrusting up into you with a loud moan. His eyes screwed shut, his face flushed scarlet, and he trembled beneath you as his cum flooded into you, spilling out onto the base of his cock.

Pulling you down into an embrace, Hotaru held you in his arms, his heart thrumming beneath your ear. His big, broad hand stroked your back as he kissed the top of your head and his cock softened inside you.

After his breathing returned to normal, he gathered his senses long enough to ask, “Do you need more, my love?”

“I’m more than satisfied,” you said with a smile. 

He was asleep a second later. 

You lay there, pinned by his arms, crushed up against this strange, wonderful man you called your husband, and there was nowhere else you would rather be. 

[wraithdance]

https://www.tumblr.com/wraithdance/765961917651140608/i-really-liked-your-explanation-of-the-whole?source=share

I am really bad at articulating my thoughts but I think about this a lot as someone who hopes to 1- major in neuroscience (i'm 18, going to uni next year) and 2- is trans. I know being trans is not the same thing at all as POC experiences with fic, very cognizant of that, but more to the point where I relate to the aspect of not being able to get over the like mental wall of seeing "neutral" readers as me? I don't know what my brain is doing when i read certain fics but sometimes i can't do it.

I feel like I should close read some of my favorite fic and least favorite fic to see if there are triggers I didn't notice on the first read. does that make sense or seem similar to what you experience? Again I know it's not the same thing, but like i am so curious as to what cis straight white people put in their fic that makes it so obvious that they're cis straight white.

I am sorry if this bothers you, really not my intentions, I am obviously a future brain nerd and i can't stop thinking about this

Congratulations fellow Nerd! You've activated my interest in Race theory and fandom writing from an academic perspective!

Writing reflects life and to answer this question properly, I have to talk about life shit to catch you up to speed, (this should help if you take a sociology or cultural anthropology class lmao) So, Welcome to:

Calvary yaps: Sociology & Intersectionality in fandom writing 101!

Disclaimer: I'm just a random bitch on the internet who loves English and the ridiculousness of social hierarchies, this will be referencing American social constructs and in groups only, with a focus on my experience as a Black American woman who reads a shit ton of books. Don't fight me if you hate my explanation, I will simply not respond.

Read my house rules before sending me an ask, I'm just being a dumb ass rn and word vomiting my interests, so pls i beg no follow up questions unless I say I'm open to em later.

Definitions to know:

Socialization: the act of preparing individuals to participate in society by learned social norms taught in ones family or social settings like school/friend groups. (one can be socialized in gender, race, cultural practices, etc.)

Social Hierarchies: systems of social organization in which some individuals enjoy a higher social status than others (in my opinion this is a lingering safety measure from lizard brain cavemen hunter/gatherer days)

Intersectionality: A term coined by Kimberlé Crenshaw; The process of acknowledging the unique parallels a marginalized person experiences when they have more than one marginalization (ie: race, class, gender, sexuality, ability, size, etc.)

Matriarchal society: Social groups/family structures that center female figures as representatives of authority.

Implicit Bias: Unintentional bias a person may have towards a group or individual based on learned stereotypes, prejudices, perceptions based on another's background or state of being.

first, yes anon you are making sense! So the main question:

'What cis straight white people put in their fic that makes it so obvious that they're cis straight white?'

I've been mulling this question around in my head for a few days and tried to figure out how to articulate this without going into depth in Sociological theory, but I can't! So here we are lmao, this is long as fuck so TLDR here.

I've talked to a LOT of Black and PoC people over the last months because I thought I was the only one who felt strange or could tell immediately when a writer was white, despite doing the best job they could to be neutral.

Every person I spoke to agreed they could tell right away even if we don't share similar racial backgrounds.

The answer I've come up with to why that is, is because white people are socialized (taught by society/their parents how to behave) in a way many black and PoC people are not, so their reader characters will often act in a way PoC people have learned not to, so it flags for many of us.

I plan to answer another question about this at a later date so an example is with shit like:

An over deference to hyper masculine male characters (for PoC cultures like certain Black/Latine groups that are often matriarchal in nature and don’t ascribe to as many traditional gender roles, this is a flag), lack of interpersonal/familial connection, over meekness, no challenging of external factors so things just HAPPEN to the reader and lack of awareness of surroundings to name a few. 

A lot of the language of the irl world places white cis people from Western countries as the default and everyone else as others. In which, PoC people have learned to navigate the world very carefully with a hyper-focus on what will potentially bring them harm/scrutiny/ostracism especially in white dominant spaces.

That extends to when we have down time while reading or partaking in media smfh.

I'm sure you've had to learn the same as a trans person navigating cis spaces and it's the same with any marginalization! If you are disabled you have an awareness of able bodied people and their expectations, same with being fat amongst skinny people, etc.

The more marginalizations you have, the louder the rules of social hierarchies become. Which is why many marginalized ppl stick close to those who 'get it' in their social groups as an act of safety in numbers. (Many of us attempt to have strong family connection/harmony because of this)

So referring to your comment about being trans is not the same thing at all as POC experiences with fic, it is when you are a Black or PoC trans person! My angel face @/buttdumplin has spoken a lot about that as a Mexican transman reading fics by cis people!

(Please for the love of God no one come to me explaining how marginalized they are so they shouldn't be lumped in with the white ppl PoC are cognizant of, I will check myself into a psych ward)

So what does that gotta do with reading fics?

No matter what anyone thinks, it is damn near impossible to not frame your writing from the perspective of your lived experiences. It's why even when I try my hardest to make my characters not sound Black, they will always read that way because I have been Black all of my life!

And it doesn't just happen with race, go on tiktok and search male authors writing women. (or here's another article lmao)

Also ask a Southerner how they know someone has never been to the South and don't know shit about our accents when they write Graves. There are linguistic tells that flag off and why we flame actors who pick up southern accents for their roles.

(They chew on that terrible goddamn Appalachian or Louisiana Accent not realizing Southern accents come in many fonts.)

So when I read a fic about Kyle Garrick from a non black person, I can tell the writer is non black by linguistic implications, the things they emphasize about him and what they don't. It doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy reading fics from non black people, I can just tell!

And sometimes that means I, and other PoC's associate the Reader as a white OC while reading fics.

For example, all black people are not monolithic because of our cultural and regional experiences, but many of us share common threads. That's usually family involvement, colloquialisms, that stupid fucking cookie tin our elders put sewing supplies in...

Other non Black PoC people might share similar cultural practices, so when I'm reading fics from say a latina, I will cock my head and go wait.... are you...? And surely enough, they are a person of color. 

But even while reading from a non black PoC, I have to tread carefully because anti black sentiment exists in many cultures, which is why you'll hear me say Black and PoC/Non black people interchangeably.

It’s how the conversation of Implicit bias comes up, because unknowingly non white characters can sometimes be written with a hyper focus that makes them seem inhumanly one characteristic or with little to no background while the other characters are fully fleshed out.

like the character of color is just a stand in to move the plot around white characters forward. 

So all that to say, without sometimes meaning to white writers will always sound off to me in a way that my brain can pick up on in the most minuscule ways because my awareness of my blackness/otherness has been drilled in from birth and reinforced by social norms.

I can even tell immediately if a white person has been around only white spaces their whole life with the jokes they tell lol.

In the grand scheme of things the race of the writer is most important to me when something jarring comes up that slaps me away from the experience, it explains so much of the disconnect.

Every marginalized person has a threshold for what they can ignore as a ‘trigger’ before they’re ejected from reader inserts, mine is usually the association with racial historical happenings, certain gender dynamics, etc.

It's why I mention crying like a little bitch when I read my friend Jess's (Kyletogaz) TF 141 Hair series, Dragon’s (Dragonnarative-writes) Transferrable Skills, and even Xavi's (Buttdumplin) Piercing fic.

Reading those fics felt like safety and familiarity. It was a moment where I realized I could drop the mental load I had no idea I was carrying, where I was trying to prepare myself for potential emotional damage and just READ.

It's also why as a Black person who fucks with kink and sex work it's been so touch and go when navigating dark fics/kink fics/fics about Sex workers.

Because there are different rules of engagement non white kinksters have to be aware of and that leads to a point on the collective vs. Individual experience as a PoC in kink, that I’ll eventually make a post about at some point or another. Maybe…

So yeah I’m tired of yapping. I hope this long shit was enough of an explanation!! Thanks to my friends Kiko, Jules, Xavi and Folded for yapping with me so I could articulate this better!!

[whoreteen]

hello. i love your writing so much. i would love to see some enemies to lovers slash angry sex with Chan, thinking it'd be hot to see him still being so petty and throw each other's remarks while fucking so hard. forgetting they are still at the gathering where friends are still there, hearing everyting loud and clear. please please 🥹

04:52 ♡

⤷ pairing: chan x f!reader. ⤷ word count: 3,8K. ⤷ genre: smut (with feelings 😵‍💫😮‍��😵‍💫), slight fluff, established relationship, idol!au. ⤷ warnings: exhibitionism, handjob, masturbation, fingering, oral (f receiving), dirty talk, use of pet names. (lmk if i missed anything!)

“god, just shut up,” you spit, not meeting his eyes. “i’m not fucking jealous.��

if someone asks you what your biggest regret is, you’d tell them it would be encountering chan. it’s where it got you— parties at random places, intoxicated out of your mind, being reckless…

it’s the temptations and, things you do out of jealousy and possessiveness.

it’s what he does to you.

“you’re such a fucking brat, y’know that?” chan growls through gritted teeth and an equally tight jaw. “why do you make a big deal out of nothing?”

his lustful gaze flickers between your eyes, down to your lips and back up to your eyes.

truthfully, you can’t even say it’s all chan’s fault, but you believe meeting him definitely was the first blow to your breaking point.

like, look where you are now, inhaling weed smoke and taking shots on a wednesday night, shortening your life span by doing so at a random party with a random mix of drunk party people.

begrudgingly.

you wish you weren’t in love with a delinquent. so desperate to get his attention, even if you knew he’ll break your heart into pieces all over again.

you let out a sigh, knowing you have his attention. knowing you both have each other right where you want.

“figures. you want me…” chan tries his best to fight back a smile. “you wanna fuck me so bad it makes you look stupid.”

you swallow down the desire to kiss him.

“i see you’re still as delusional as ever,” you snap back, rolling your eyes at him as you ignore the pounding of your heart.

he raises a perfectly arched brow as his face moves even closer to yours, causing you to lean back as much as you possibly can until your head hits the wall.

“and you’re still a slut for me.”

his lips are dangerously close to yours as he speaks and you feel your stomach turning. “hm? or am i wrong?”

“w-what are you d-doing?” you stammer out, pushing him away by his shoulders.

you aren’t going to let him win that easy. you can’t ever let him know how desperate you are for him, too.

the idea of him fucking you against the wall while your friends are in the next room sounds perfect. but even if you want him to ruin you, fuck you so hard like it’s the last thing he’d do; you can’t let him know that.

your inhale is sharp, your lips parted, and you finally remember how to breathe when he moves back a bit to properly examine your face.

“see? can’t even act right around me…” he laughs.

you immediately push him by his shoulders.

“baby, you’re so hot when you’re angry, y’know that? fuck, you shoving me like this and pretending to be unaffected is a turn on.”

you open your mouth to speak, but nothing comes out as you’re he cut off by the gentle kisses applied to your neck.

chan nips at your skin in a perfect mixture of pleasure and pain, leaving a few open-mouthed kisses and you can’t help but turn your head, allowing him full access.

normally, you would’ve never even dared to do something like this in a public place, but frankly you don’t give a fuck.

“got nothing to say now, huh?” he questions with a scoff. “proves my point. you want me, too.”

you don’t have anything to say— you’re speechless and your heart is quite literally pounding in your chest with how close he is to your face.

you’re drunk and high, don’t have anything to lose and currently, you want to be chan’s… well, anything.

“fuck you,” you manage to croak out.

his nose grazes yours as he lets out a dark chuckle.

he’s trying to make you give in, however it doesn’t have the desired effect he’s looking for. or so you think.

you hate his guts, and by now, the many drinks you’ve had; the joints you’ve smoke, have already kicked in and you want to be petty. you want to fight with him, just for the sake of it.

“…hmm? not going to deny it, are you?” he closes in on you and he’s silent, waiting for your response.

there is a brief minute in between all of the chaos, where all that is heard is your breaths, and all you do is stare at each other.

that’s before he speaks again, a lot more softer than before, “do you actually think i look at her the way i look at you?” he asks. “or that she can even compare?” his voice tries to soften up along with his features, but you aren’t going to fold so easily.

“bullshit,” you snarl, burning holes into his skull with your angry glare. “besides, i don’t give a fuck. like you said, we’re not together.”

noticing his jaw flex and loosen a few times through his annoyance, he finally lunges at you, pinning you up against the wall again as you groan in displeasure.

you try to twist your wrist out of his grasp that’s slowly getting tighter and tighter.

“no, seriously. do you really think i’d do that to you?” he asks, his tone still cold and demanding as his hands starts to shake slightly with the force of his grip. “after everything?”

“chan,” you groan, still trying to pull away from him. you take another shallow breath and look at him through your lashes, trying not to show how much his words are affecting you. “i’m not in the fucking mood.”

“i’m not playing with you, i’m serious,” he states, before pressing his entire body flush against yours.

his voice softens as he admits, “i missed you so much. you know you’re the only one who can make me feel this way.”

you didn’t mean to, but in that instant, you let a little, ‘yeah, right,’ slip from your mouth and that did it.

chan smashes his lips against yours with a bruising force, his hands still lingering at your bound wrists that he’s moved above your head.

groaning into the kiss, you try to turn your head, but just as you pulled away and got some air, his hands let go of your wrists and traps your face between them instead. he brings your lips against his again, somehow trying to make you feel what he feels.

you try to push him away from you by his shoulders as soon as you feel his tongue desperately prying at your lips, you know it’s over.

this man will be the death of you one way or another.

chan wraps one arm around your head and the other around your waist to keep you there, pressing you firmly against his strong frame, making you sigh into the kiss.

no matter how much you can’t stand him, how furious and angry you are, you just give in anyway, like you always do.

almost like he has some kind of power over you.

you let his tongue tangle with yours as his still forceful mouth causes yours to feel slightly swollen.

when he feels satisfied that he’s finally gotten what he wanted, he pulls away with a loud smack.

you look up at him, finding hooded eyes and parted lips. but before you can respond, a sudden, loud gasp escapes you as chan easily swoops you up with one arm, backing you into the wall, hard.

“someone might walk in,” you gasp in surprise.

“let’s give them a show.”

“fuck—” you moan as his lips leaves butterfly kisses on your jaw. “i can’t stand you.”

he pushes you against the wall, one of his hands harshly yanking your hair so hard tears appear in your eyes.

you know exactly what nerve you’d hit.

“you can’t stand me?” he asks, threading his fingers in your hair before placing soft kisses on the exposed skin on your neck. “yet here you are, all hot and bothered... your skin begging for my touch.”

a sinful, loud moan rips from your throat and goes straight to his cock as he lets his hand come up to your throat before squeezing a little too tightly, backing you further into the wall.

you feel his grip tighten around your neck, hard enough to leave bruises but controlled enough to constrict your airway.

“i hate you.”

“stop fucking lying y/n, you know that’s not true.” he snaps harshly, and you know you’d hit a nerve with him, but you honestly don’t care.

you so hate him… right now, anyway as you’d probably soften up after some time to think.

his hands begin tearing at your clothing, ridding you of your dress rather quickly.

you watch him hold the short, slightly revealing dress up in front of him as he scoffs loudly, “why would you wear this?” he asks, the tone in his voice making him sound more angry than before.

“because you always said it was your favourite,” you say with a smirk, not caring that you’re being a little insensitive.

whatever the motives behind your words were, that did it.

he groans, quickly throwing the dress aside before ripping your bra and underwear off.

you slightly frown as he takes the last of it off and you’re finally naked before him again, his eyes ranking over your exposed body shamelessly.

“i hate you,” you mumble again.

“shut up!” he barks again and you listen, but not because he told you to; because you can’t think of anything to shoot back.

“i’m gonna get you to take that back, fucking watch,” he said in a low tone, pulling his t-shirt over his head before unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans quickly.

he doesn’t even bother taking the rest of his clothes off, he just pulls his cock out of his boxers and jeans, letting you see that he’s already hard and ready.

stroking himself a few times, his fingers pulls at his shaft until you watch precum collect on his slit.

chan stops himself with a pleasured sigh just before lining himself up and shoving his entire cock inside of you.

you both gasp in unison before he starts pumping, quickly finding a fast pace.

you moan hesitantly, trying to keep each and every one of them in to show him how mad you are, but that doesn’t really work.

every moan just keeps topping the last and soon you’re withering as he drills you into the wall.

you keep your hands attached to the wall, afraid to let go, seeing as they’d probably just drift towards his hips as they work against yours. you don’t want to give him the satisfaction.

but soon, you feel your anger fading away and you can only feel pure pleasure as each of his thrusts makes you feel better…

“take… it. b-back.” chan hisses, enunciating each of his words with rough thrusts.

you shake your head and proceed in keeping your mouth shut as he just moves faster, knowing you’re close.

feeling his mouth dip down to your chest, you let out a whimper as he starts devouring all of the skin there is to reach before licking a trail up to your neck where he begins to bite and suck roughly.

“nggh— oh my god…fuck,” you moan as he finds your sweet spot, but quickly close your mouth before a loud sigh in the form of his name can escape.

you begin grinding your hips opposite of his and he moans louder as holds your hips in place to quicken his pace even more.

finally, you feel your anger reside permanently as your legs wrap themselves tighter around his waist and your hands around his neck.

you watch him crack a small smile for a split second, knowing he’d finally won, before your orgasm starts.

if you enjoyed reading this, please consider leaving feedback! love hearing you guys’ thoughts!

[iliketangerines]

I know it’ll be a while before you see this😭but your Erron Black fic (working relationship) inspired me to think of a cool (and kinky) idea:

There’s a part in the fic you wrote where Erron and the reader had fought off the vicious Outworlders from assassinating Kotal Kahn, but what if the reader WAS an outworlder trying to assassinate the Kahn. The attempt failed and she was imprisoned. Where am I going with this? I know some Mkx Outworld men aren’t that popular in the fic world, but what if Kotal sent his closest 3 adversaries to “punish” her efforts? Yes, I’m talking about the cowboy, soul boy, and lizard man.

Love your writing so much❤️❤️❤️

pay for your crimes

a/n: mm mm MM. also, i do NOT condone this behavior in real life

pairing: erron black x afab!reader x syzoth x ermac

warnings: nsfw (MDNI), noncon, slight pet play, orgasm denail, chest play, anal, double penetration, face fucking, gun play

you had been so close to killing the Kahn, blade just mere millimeters from his throat, your plan working perfectly to distract his guards

and then, a bullet had rang into your shoulder, giving the Kahn just enough time to pin you and cuff you, throwing you into the cells to draw some information out of you

Mileena had hired you, trusting in you to kill the Kahn, and you had failed, ending with a collar on your neck chained to the floor and your arms tied behind you

they had also taken the measure in chaining both of your ankles to the floor, every restraint drawn tight to make sure you had no leeway to even move a single centimeter

you had long lost feeling in your arms and your feet, and you can’t even hang your head to rest, the collar choking you if you even dared to move

it left you exhausted, muscles trembling with the effort to keep your legs straight as to not choke yourself by relaxing yourself

but it was only light torture, you could deal with this for a few more days, but still, the hours dragged on as your mouth became parched and your muscles burned with effort

the sound of the cell door creaking open catches your attention, and you don’t make a single sound as you watch three men walk in

it’s a strange group, one man dressed in a hat not of Outworld, a Zaterran, and the collection of souls that often sat at Kotal’s side

you can’t seem to care as you focus on keeping your neck straight so that you can breathe properly, but an irritated grunt leaves your mouth as they encircle you

there’s a look in the gunslinger’s eyes, a look you don’t quite like, and you bare your teeth at him, growling despite the little energy that you have left

he grins at you from underneath the mask, and he gets comfortable on the dirty prison floor, drawing his pistol out of its holder and using it to fix the tilt of his hat before pointing it lazily at you

you remain silent as he asks you questions about Mileena, where her camp was, what her next operations were, any information in general about the former Kahn

the other two simply wait patiently, boring holes into your back as they observe your figure, but you ignore them

she had only hired you as a contract killer, but you knew her personally when you had worked under Shao Kahn and Shang Tsung

your lips would remain sealed about her, and the gunslinger seems to realize it as well, sighing and bringing the pistol closer to you

he cocks it, the click echoing in the prison cell, and then he shoves it into your mouth, the taste of gunpowder and smoke laying flat on your tongue

it makes you grunt in surprise, and he cocks his head at the other two and the sound of shuffling and clinking fills the room as the chains on your ankle and collar loosen

your body sags slightly in relief as your legs relax, but the gun stays firmly in your mouth as the gunslinger says if you try anything funny, he’ll pull the trigger

you believe him, you’ve seen him in action before when you were studying the layout of the palace and the guard rotations and Kotal’s usual walking spots

it doesn’t stop you from huffing angrily, glaring at him the best you could muster while still kneeling on the ground before him, and he seems to smirk underneath the mask

Erron Black, he introduces himself, and then your hear the other two introduce their names, Syzoth and Ermac

two strong hands clasp onto your shoulders as the chains on your ankles fall away and the chain on your collar is unlocked from the wall

Syzoth hands the chain connected the collar to Erron, and he grins as he tugs at it slightly, making your mouth sink further on the gun and you to slightly choke on it

your hands flex, still restrained behind your back, and your legs don’t have enough blood in them to try and fight with only them

a scaly hand trails down your back, ripping at the cloth with its claws, and an icy hand of fear trails down along with him

the gunslinger moves to stand to your side, making your head crane along with him, and says to get to know their names well, you’ll be screaming them soon enough, and with a loud rip your shirt is ripped away from you

before you can even try and retaliate, an invisible force grabs onto your body and pulls your legs apart further than you thought they could stretch

it’s a sort of green energy surrounding your legs, and a faint green energy pulsates from Ermac’s hands as your eyes dart around to try and find the source of the control

Syzoth gets onto his knees first in front of you, his tongue flicking out and tasting the air, tasting the scent of your fear as the reality of the situation settles in

he lets out an airy laugh at the smell of it and coos at you, promising that it wouldn’t hurt too much, and his clawed hands twitch at his sides

his voice makes you shiver as he says that he’s had nowhere to release his pent-up energy, can’t go back to a home too far away, can’t touch the maids or the warriors

but you, a simple hostage who refuses to give up information, well, it gives them all a reason to release some energy and break you enough to force some information out of you

you want to scream and thrash, but the barrel of the gun sits heavy in your mouth and the green energy immobilizing your only means of escape left you complacent

Syzoth’s hand cups your chest, thumbs rubbing over your nipples, and the scales only add to the roughness and the stimulation

he sticks his tongue out into the air again, eyes transfixed on the way your nipples harden underneath his fingers, and his hands then roughy squeeze your chest

the claws dig into your skin, and you breathe out through your nose, closing your eyes to concentrate on anything else but this situation

Erron lets out a hum of disapproval and tells you to open your eye, to watch it all happen, to just give in and give them information on Mileena’s whereabouts

you open your eyes, mustering as much anger and vitriol in your gaze that you could as you stare up at him, and he only chuckles at the small show of defiance

a hand touches your back, tracing the muscle, dry and bandaged, and you know it’s Ermac tracing the skin on your back

his hands glow just a bit brighter, and your bottoms fall to the floor, leaving you with nothing to cover up your modesty

a slight growl leaves your throat, as a slow panic rushes through your body, and Erron simply tugs on the collar to get you to shut up, telling you that good little pets don’t growl

you don’t move, letting Ermac’s hands travel along your body, one hand groping at your ass and squeezing it roughly while the other snakes around to your front

his hand trails further and further down, cupping your sex but doing nothing else, simply enjoying the warmth emanating from your heat

then his fingers press into your skin, finding your clit and rubbing lithe fingers in practiced circles, and a small strangled sound leaves you throat

it had been a long time since you had ever done something anything even remotely similar to this, and it left you sensitive and unused to touch

Syzoth hums at the way your breath hitches, and he squeezes even tighter at your chest, licking his lips and then pinching at your nipples

a small yelp leaves your throat, and you try to focus on anything else, to not let your mind get pulled and pushed apart by pleasure as Ermac continues to rub at your clit and Syzoth tease your chest

but you’re quickly jolted out of your thoughts as the collar pulls at your neck and brings you back into the moment and staring up at Erron

out of the four of you, he seemed the least affected, but the bulge in his pants indicates otherwise, straining at the zipper and begging to be release

you’re pulled from that thought to the next as Ermac pinches at your clit, making your body jump in pleasure and pain, and your pussy clenches down on nothing

in spite of everything, you can feel yourself getting wet the longer Syzoth and Ermac tease and play with your body

Syzoth moves one hand away from your chest to wrap around to your back, gliding his fingers between your wet folds and humming at the slickness coating his fingers

his fingers move up and circle the rim of your asshole, and your eyes widen in surprise and fear as goosebumps erupt over your body

your breathing quickens for just a moment, enough for Erron to laugh again and tell you that they’ll make sure you’re nice and loose for Ermac’s cock

the gun presses against the back of your throat, and you try to calm yourself down, you don’t want to get shot in the head

Ermac hums at the mention of his name and moves his fingers down, sinking two fingers into your warmth without warning, and it makes your breath catch at the thickness of him

his fingers expertly curl in your warmth, pressing into your sweet spot and massaging it, and it sends pleasure blazing through you

your eyes slip close at the pleasure, and you thank the elder gods when Erron doesn’t tell you open them again as you try and take in everything

they’re tearing your mind apart with the stimulation on all sides, and it’s ripping your mind into a useless puddle that can’t think for itself

Syzoth hisses and sinks a slick finger into your asshole, and you finally let out a small whine at the pressure, gasping around the gun to try and struggle away

the gunslinger simply keeps a firm hold on the chain to your collar to make sure you couldn’t squirm away, and the glowing green energy around your legs only squeeze and keep you still

you can’t help but moan as Ermac fucks his fingers into your drooling pussy, palm grinding into your sensitive clit and how Syzoth pushes another fingers into your ass

breath heaves in your chest as pleasure blazes through you, sensitive and much too overstimulated, and you’re quickly hurtling toward the edge of pleasure

Erron grunts something out and suddenly they’re not touching you anymore, and you open your eyes as your orgasm slips away from you

he has a grin on his face, one that says he knows exactly what he’s doing, and you want to kill him, wipe that smug smirk off of his face

the gunslinger tuts at you as you struggle, pulling at the collar once more and making you gag on the loaded gun, and you breathe and calm down

you’re giving him a reaction, exactly what he wanted, and you breathe out through your nose to calm down, still mustering your best glare at him

Erron says something and suddenly the collar is being pulled at by the green magic, and Erron unbuckles his pants and pulls out his cock

it’s thick, flushed and leaking pre-cum, and he removes the gun from your mouth, covered in a new layer of shiny spit

you don’t speak as he taps the tip of his cock against your lips, pressing the end of the gun against the side of your head

the gunslinger takes a hold of the collar again, and then lightly taps the gun against your head, forcing you to open up your lips and take his cock into your mouth

it’s thick and heavy in your mouth, pressing down along your tongue and choking you, and your eyes water as he pushes in further and further, giving no remorse to how you start to choke and gag and struggle in your bindings

rather, the other two start touching you again, teasing you, fucking you slowly on their fingers, and laughing when you whine and whimper when they pull away

your pussy clenches desperately on their fingers, drooling and dripping onto the floor with the need to cum, but they deny you all the same

it’s a cruel agony, the lack of air causing your head to spin and the pleasure to intensify and curl and assault you from all sides

your mind is being pulled apart and put back together with each denied orgasm and with how Erron is just content to let his cock rest in your warm mouth

you’re not sure how much time has passed as they continue to tease you, fuck you on their fingers and bring you to the brink of insanity

the gunslinger finally pulls his cock out of your mouth, and you cough and wheeze as you breathe in lungfuls of precious air

he asks if you’re ready to talk, that if you give them information they’ll let you cum on their cocks, and you hiss at them and tell them to stick it

despite their efforts, you still had a bit of fight left in you

Erron sighs and shoves his cock back into your mouth, letting go of the chain to grip onto your hair and fuck into your face roughly

you gag and choke, squirming in your binds as it overtakes your senses, and you can barely process the fact the Ermac and Syzoth have undressed themselves

their cocks press against your entrances, and you can’t even scream as they start fucking into you with reckless abandon, ignoring your clit and avoiding your sweet spots to make you break

Ermac groans loudly as he fucks into your asshole, tight around him and not nearly enough lube, and with the added pressure of Syzoth fucking into your abused pussy, it’s too much for you to handle, blinding white pleasure snaking within you

their hands are all over you, grabbing and pulling and clawing, and your mind is being torn a million different ways, trying to recollect only to have its thoughts scattered with each thrust and scratch

you can’t handle it, it’s all too much, and all the energy leaves your body as you finally grow limp in their hold and they fuck into you like a toy

Erron pulls away from your mouth, letting you breathe as the other two fuck senselessly into you, and he asks if you have any information

you’re not quite aware of what comes out of your mouth, something spilling from your lips, and Erron smiles and pats your cheek, calling you a good pet before placing his cock against your lips

he pushes in, fucking your face just as brutally as before, and then Ermac’s fingers touch your clit, rubbing it back and forth and pushing you right over the edge

you sob as you cum, tears streaming down their cheeks, and Erron groans, pressing your nose into his pubic hair and cumming down your throat

there’s a lack of air, but you can’t even twitch to fight and slowly let the black dots take over your vision until the gunslinger finally pulls off

you breathe rapidly and feel the barrel of the gun be removed from your head, but Syzoth and Ermac still fuck into you with reckless abandon

he chuckles and says that they’re much harder to please, being of Outworld of course, you’ll be in here for a while with them

but they’ll make sure you cum, over and over and over again on their cocks, and with that Erron, buckles up his pants to give away the information you parlayed to him to Kotal

Syzoth lets out a low hiss, smiling at your fucked out expression, and Ermac keeps rubbing your clit roughly, leaving low grunts in the air

you were going to be there until they satisfied themselves, and they were hard men to please

[vinylfoxbooks]

August 19 - Invite | @into-the-jeggyverse | wc: 1138 Suggestive at the end

“Why are you here, Lily?” Remus sighs, watching one of his best friends walk through the door to the flat that she let herself into from where he’s sitting on the couch with a book. He can hear James in the kitchen finishing up with whatever they’re currently making. 

“I am here!” Lily announces, pushing further into the flat, “To officially invite you to the Halloween party that Mary and I are having.”

“And are those hotties that showed up in your story the other day going to be there?” James calls from the kitchen, “For both Remus and I?”

Lily laughs and turns an inquisitive face on Remus, “The ‘hotties’?”

Remus rolls his eyes, “The brothers or whatever that you posted something with. Pandora was talking to one and the other was waving at the camera.”

“Oh!” Lily nods, “That would be Regulus and Sirius, Pandora’s best friend and his brother. Yes, they’re both invited to my party but I don’t know if they’ll be coming for sure. Just out of interest, which one were you guys interested in?”

“Funnily enough, I really liked the one that was waving, Sirius I presume?” Lily nods and Remus continues, “James liked the grumpy looking one.”

“Of course they would.” Lily smiles, rolling her eyes, “When I know for sure whether they’re coming or not, I’ll let you two know.”

“You should tell us what they’re wearing as well!” James calls out once again, “So we can do something to match it!” Lily rolls her eyes but agrees nonetheless before pressing a kiss to Remus’ cheek and standing up, walking out of the flat. Remus rolls his eyes at the interaction while James starts cackling upon hearing the door slam closed. 

Days later, Lily texts them informing them that Regulus and Sirius are going to be attending the party and that they’re going as Nine Zenik and Kaz Brekker from Six of Crows, which James gets incredibly excited about and they immediately start brainstorming about what the two of them are going to wear. 

Which is how James and Remus end up walking into Lily and Mary’s house with James wearing a red button that’s half unbuttoned underneath an open burgundy waistcoat with little swirl patterns on them and a brown leather overcoat that matches the one that sits on Remus’ shoulders with the collar popped up, and a black top hat sitting haphazardly on their head. They’ve got a pair of black pants with some holsters on their thighs that hold fake guns vaguely resembling Jesper’s. Remus, on the other hand, is wearing some brown slacks that match his coat and a vest with several pockets visible on top of a brown button up. He’s got some extra things to make him look like a ‘tinkerer’ but otherwise his outfit is rather simple.

“I don’t know why you’re even wearing that many layers,” Remus says as he holds the door open for James, “You’re going to be down to your button up by the end of the night.”

“You know me so well, my love.” James smiles, slipping into the house with Remus following just behind them. The two find Lily easily, who is wearing a pink cocktail dress with a red bow sitting on the top of her head. Nearby they can see Mary wearing a green, tight-fitting tank top and a black miniskirt and Pandora wearing a white and light blue dress with white stockings, their hair in ponytails with blue ribbons. 

“The Power Puff Girls.” Remus nods upon stopping in front of her, his gaze just breaking from the other two to properly look at her. 

Lily smiles when she sees them, “Pandora’s idea. Wylan and Jesper, that’s a surefire way to make the Black brothers think that you’re together.”

James shrugs, “Who else would you put me as? Inej?”

“And if I were trying to go for Nina’s counterpart, could you really see me being Mattias?” Remus follows up, “We figured that these were the best, and James wanted to wear the top hat.” Lily concedes to them before pointing to where Sirius and Regulus are leaning against a wall, talking to each other. 

Regulus is dressed as Kaz, a black button up underneath a black and silver waistcoat with silver chains going from the lower center to either of his sides and disappearing under a thick black overcoat along with some leather gloves. Sirius, on the other hand, is wearing a long red dress with gold detailings and slits down either side and a black and gold waist cincher. Their longer hair is pulled back into a bun. 

“Damn.” James whistles, looking Regulus up and down. Remus can’t help but nod at that. Lily laughs at them before stalking away to her partners. 

James and Remus go to enjoy themselves at the party for a while, deciding that they need some alcohol in their systems before they start even trying to flirt with the attractive brothers. At some point, one of James’ favourite songs gets played over the speakers and James pulls Remus onto the dance floor by his hands and pulls him to their body. Remus, as he tends to do, humors them and starts singing and dancing along with them. 

At one point, after the song has long switched to other ones, James goes to twirl Remus but watches as he gets pulled away by Sirius while Regulus slips in and grabs James’ hands. While in shock, James is all the more willing to take it into stride, “Why hello there.”

Regulus hums, slow enough that James almost doesn’t hear it over the sound of the party around them, “Hello.” He drags his eyes over James’ body, “Jesper Fahey?”

“Kaz Brekker.” James smiles in response, dragging their own eyes over Regulus, “Just what kind of heist are you planning today? Maybe stealing my heart?”

Regulus rolls his eyes, “I take it, from your flirting with me, that you and your Wylan over there that my brother is dancing with aren’t together?”

“No,” James smiles, “Just best friends with the personalities of these characters. My name is James, my friend over there that your brother seems about ready to jump is Remus.”

“And why do I need to do that?” James shrugs, “I figure that your brother is the type of person to shag first, ask questions later and Remus doesn’t like answering those after a good fuck. Figuring that you knowing his name was better than nothing.” 

“Mm,” Regulus hums, jerking his chin away, “That may be the case, but I think I’ve asked enough questions. Want to find somewhere more private?” James nods and starts pulling Regulus towards the hallway that takes James to the spare room that they usually end up staying in when they stay with Lily and Mary.

I know that technically Wylan and Jesper are together and neither of them are with Kaz or Nina but I thought those characters fit each of them the best, y’know

[caroldantops]

like a stray to the arms that were open

ship: dark!wanda maximoff x fem!reader; dark(ish)!valkyrie x fem!reader

summary/request:  wanda needs a safe place for her and her pet to stay. valkyrie comes up with a compromise. for @maximotts

word count: 1.9k

warnings: smut (18+), dom!wanda, dom!valkyrie, sub!reader, dark themes (kidnapping, brainwashing), very light pet play (just the term pet and collaring), free use, fingering, overstimulation

masterlist | ao3 link

"Enter." 

Valkyrie absentmindedly sharpens her dagger, not caring about the mess that accumulates on her desk. She watches the cloaked figure move into the room carefully, each step echoing across the tiles. You follow close behind, a shimmering red trail of light linking your bound wrists and the collar around your neck to your owner. You're dressed in a very plain, but delicate light pink silk garment that hits you just at mid-thigh. The two of you together are a stark contrast, but it's rather fitting, Valkyrie thinks. 

"Thank you for meeting with me, your majesty."

"Save your formalities, Wanda," Valkyrie rests her dagger on the table and kicks up her feet, resting her hands folded together on her abdomen. "Or should I say, Scarlet Witch?" 

"Well, since we're dropping the formalities, Wanda is just fine." The king gestures to the seats in front of her desk. Wanda takes one of them, and you remain standing, frozen as you wait for permission. Valkyrie watches you carefully, your gaze set hard on the handcrafted tiles beneath your bare feet. She bets you're freezing in the Nordic air, her raging fireplace at the back of her office doing little to soothe your bare skin. 

But you don't complain. You don't even shiver. 

You've been told to keep quiet and still and wait for your orders, so you do. 

Valkyrie can imagine a laundry list of ways she'd like to test that obedience. 

"Kneel," Wanda finally commands. You drop to the floor, kneeling silently beside her. She rewards you with a gentle stroke along the back of your neck, silent code for good girl. 

"So, what brings you to my neck of the woods, witchy?" 

You can feel Wanda's energy radiating off of her, your body and mind deeply in tune with your own by this point, and you can tell she doesn't appreciate the nickname. But, she's here to ask a favor, so she does not take the time to argue about it. 

"I've come to ask if you would be able to provide a safe place to stay. I have been...forced to find somewhere where I can keep a low profile." 

"This about the whole New Jersey situation?" Valkyrie raises an eyebrow. She knows little about Wanda, mainly from Thor, but a certain sorcerer won't stop contacting her with updates on "multiversal threats" as if she has time to give a shit about that. 

"Partially. And some events after that." You see Wanda tap her Darkhold stained fingers against her thigh. A few moments of silence pass as Valkyrie thinks. You dare dart your eyes upwards to see her for briefly, her eyebrows furrowed deep in contemplation. 

"Well, y'see you're putting me in a bit of a dicey situation," Valkyrie sighs dramatically, like she's not plagued by the thought, but rather ready to bargain. "How am I gonna be sure that you're not gonna hold New Asgard hostage?"

"I have no intentions of doing that, Valkyrie," Wanda answers firmly. "What I had there I no longer have. There's no reason to repeat it." 

"Hm. I believe you, y'know, I do. But if word gets out around town that I'm helping harbor a witch on the run, my people might not be very fond of that." The magic chain attached to your collar shifts, tugging slightly as the tension in Wanda's body grows. You squeak at the pressure, and she shoots you a look. Valkyrie also looks back down at you. "Y'know, you haven't properly introduced me to this one." 

"This is my pet," Wanda answers, resting a hand on your head. You take this as cue to meet Valkyrie’s intense gaze over the edge of her intricately carved desk. She leans over out of her chair to see you better, and you shrink a bit under the attention. “In my…cross universe excursions, I found her all alone, just waiting for someone to come along and take care of her. So, I did.”

You lean into Wanda’s touch as she pets you. She wasn’t lying. At least, as far as you remember. She’s flushed out the hard parts, the parts that she didn’t want your sweet little mind plagued with. You didn’t need to remember that you had another Wanda at one point, one who left you for a variant of the man that Wanda thought she wanted back so desperately. 

Lost and alone, desperate for your Wanda to come back. She never would, your new Wanda had told you when she yanked you from your universe, bringing you back to a secluded house in a withering forest. She terrified you, you had no idea what it was that she wanted with you - whenever you asked, all she replied was, “You.” 

Wanda turned you into her prized pet, got rid of all those early memories that were holding you back from being as compliant and obedient as she needed. Every waking moment of your current existence was dedicated to pleasing her. And hers was now dedicated to keeping you safe. 

“Interesting,” Valkyrie hums, sizing you and Wanda up. You can see the gears turning in her head, and you know that there’s no doubt that Wanda is peeking into the King’s mind. But, she doesn’t say anything, just waits for her to bring the thoughts up, which of course, Valkyrie does. “I think that I can manage to house you without raising any suspicions, witch. But you’ve got to sweeten the pot for me.” 

“Just say what you want already,” Wanda says, face stoic. 

“I let you live here, and you - ” Valkyrie points teasingly at Wanda. “ - let me play with your little pet here. Whenever I want.”

 You can’t help but dart your eyes up to your owner. Wanda shows no signs of emotion on her face, not allowing you or Valkyrie to get any sense of where her head is at. Your body shivers at the idea of Valkyrie toying with you. Wanda doesn’t miss it, tugging the magic leash and making you squeak again. 

“I scratch your back, you scratch mine, yeah?” Valkyrie chuckles as Wanda continues to sit in silence. 

“Angel,” Wanda speaks to you. You perk up at her acknowledgement. “You would do anything I asked of you, right? Because you’re my good girl?” 

“Yes, mommy,” you answer with no hesitation. 

Wanda nods, like she knew the answer anyway. Or rather, would’ve decided despite your response. She turns back to Valkyrie. 

“Deal. As long as I’m present.” 

“Course, wouldn’t want me to snatch her away from ya,” Valkyrie grins, offering her hand across the table as if she’s just secured a fancy business deal. Wanda can’t help but roll her eyes as she shakes it. “Can’t wait to break her in. Actually, why even wait?” 

“You’re cashing in already?” 

“I did say whenever I want, didn’t I?” 

“You did,” Wanda breaks the magic tethering you to her. You look up for her guidance of what you’re supposed to do, but you don’t have to sit wondering long. Valkyrie comes around the table and lifts you off the ground with no effort at all, tugging you to bend over the side of the table. 

“C’mon, cupcake, gotta give your mommy a nice view huh?” Valkyrie whispers in your ear as she runs her hands up your bare thighs. She leans away from you to push your slip up over your ass and is pleased to see you’re completely bare underneath. “Wanda trying to freeze you in this weather, love? Don’t worry, I’ll warm you up in no time.”

You’re putty in her hands as she kisses up your spine, leaving small bites along the way that make you squirm against her hold. You feel her laugh against your skin as you wiggle, murmuring to herself how pretty you’re gonna look all bruised up. 

“You like that, baby? You like my mouth on you?” 

Your eyes dart to Wanda yet again. “Answer her, sweetheart. You can speak if she addresses you.” 

“Yes…” You’re unsure of how to address the woman kneeling down so she’s face level with your already dripping cunt, and her breath against you makes it even harder to think. 

“Hm, I think if you have a mommy already, only seems natural you call me daddy, hm?” Valkyrie licks a long stripe through your folds. You moan and buck against her face, her nose nudging your clit as you do. “Or, my king will also do.” 

“Hungry for power much?” Wanda raises an eyebrow. She’s leaned back casually in the plush chair, watching Valkyrie work her pet as if she’s been doing this for years. 

“Like you can talk,” Valkyrie shoots back before diving back into your waiting pussy. “Fuck, she’s delicious.” 

“She is, isn’t she?” Wanda’s voice betrays her, that little arousal filled rasp that you’re so used to coming out as she shifts in her seat. 

“Mm, I know why you wanted to keep her so bad.” 

You feel Valkyrie stroke her fingers along your folds as she takes a break licking you to mark up your thighs. Her rough fingertips rub your clit and dip into your hole teasingly. You can’t help pushing back against her hand, which prompts her to deliver a swift smack to your core. Sharp heat pulses through your cunt as she does, and you cry out for Wanda automatically. 

“Behave, baby,” Wanda responds to your sob. 

“Need more,” you whine. 

“Greedy little thing, are we?” Valkyrie’s fingers return to lazily teasing your clit, now throbbing and swollen. “I’m being so nice to you, and you complain about needing more?” 

“No, no, ‘m sorry,” you cry. “I’ll be good.” 

“Mm, bet you will. Bet your mommy keeps you in line, huh?” Valkyrie rewards your submission with three fingers in your aching cunt. You arch against her, pushing your hips back to meet her deep thrusts. “That’s right, baby, fuck yourself on my fingers. Feels so good, doesn’t it? God, if I’d known I would have a perfect pet bent over my desk today I would’ve brought my strap to work.” 

“She’d love that,” Wanda says. “Loves being filled up so much. Loves being bred too.” 

“Oh yeah?” Valkyrie grins and stands up, fingers never slowing their thrusts as she presses herself against your back. She leans down beside your ear and whispers, “You like being filled up with cum, huh baby? Want me to stuff that tight little pussy full?” 

“Y-yes, please.” 

“Course you do, ‘cuz you’re nothing but a desperate slut. Only desperate sluts let strangers fuck them in front of their mommies.” You can barely respond with more than a whine, but that doesn’t matter to Valkyrie. She feels you clenching around her fingers, and curls them just right against your sensitive spot, ripping a raspy moan from your throat. “There you are baby, cum for me. Show your mommy how good I fuck you.” 

You can feel a surge of wetness gush past Valkyrie’s fingers as she keeps fucking you through your orgasm, uncaring as you go completely limp on her desk. You expect her to pull out soon, but instead you feel another finger pushing inside of your spent hole. Dizzy with pleasure, you hardly notice as your head is lifted and placed in Wanda’s lap. She strokes your hair and shushes your whines as Valkyrie continues pounding into you, stretching you out more than Wanda ever has. 

“Be a good girl and let Valkyrie play with you, baby. She’s gonna take her fill no matter how tired you are, might as well get used to it now.” 

[beargyufairy]

Just My Thoughts Pt. 30

As we approach the end of FT 100 YQ (manga), I have a lot of expectations and hopes for a good ending that’s well thought out and developed. Right now we are entering into Ignia’s arc which is probably the most anticipated one of the series so far and I really hope it’s not disappointing. The other arcs were good not great in the sense that they could’ve been developed a bit more since some parts seemed rushed or underwhelming.

Starting off with Lucy, I think there is a lot that could be done with her. While there were some parts where she was displayed well such as the Star dress mix or her battles during Selene’s arc, I think that she should have the spotlight at some point. She is often used for fan service and I don’t really have a care for that but it undermines her intelligence and soft hearted personality. For instance, in the original series we have seen her come up with great ideas such as closing the eclipse gate, sacrificing Aquarius, and using fairy sphere. And not to forget, she was also the one to figure out where Mavis’ grave was located during Tenrou island arc. I don’t really recall any memorable aspects of the 100 YQ that can even hold a candle to these from the original manga.

Therefore, I truly believe she’s in a need to showcase her abilities especially her intellect way more. Perhaps a mini arc for her reunion with Aquarius (via finding her key) or some interaction with Ignia. I have wondered why 100 YQ has been accomplished in over a century and of course Agnologia has some part in creating fear but is that truly all there is too it’s incompletion? I am hoping for something a bit more complex. Maybe Lucy can figure this out. Maybe she can have a battle all on her own. She’s grown so much since the start of the entire franchise and I would love to see her fight against multiple opponents at once. No help from the others. I would also love to see more Star dress mixes or maybe a new development. She’s most definitely the strongest and most powerful celestial mage, even surpassing Anna who probably held that position for a long time.

Or she can find out more about who Ignia is. We know he’s Igneel’s biological son but what was their relationship like? How come Natsu didn’t know much about him? What are Ignia’s true intentions? What does he want with all of the mages with fire related magic abilities? I really hope the ending isn’t downplayed like the original story with END because let’s all be honest, it was so disappointing because where was the drama?! Everything that has been hyped up with showing END as this awful villain was not shown properly. I also think a connection back to Lucy’s fear of Natsu’s flames caused by Ignia would be interesting. I desperately need this to happen!

Anyway I’m getting off track but I just want Lucy to shine through her battle strategy, intelligence, and her amazing personality at least once before the end of the manga.

[saucyjothoughts]

What if there was a boo that had only ever had sex in a transactional context, and this book asked their joker to show them what it is like when sex is intimate and actually meaningful? What would the boy's reactions be and how would they go about it?

Beloved Anonyboo, I am so ready for a therapy session thinking about this.

(nsfw under the cut)

Bojan: thinks all sex is meaningful until the two of you start getting close and something is... off. It doesn't feel like sex, it feels like acting and he realises you're so used to pretending you're having a great time that you don't know how to actually have a great time. "Don't ask me for what you assume I want you to like. What do you actually like?" What do you actually like? It's never mattered before. But he'll spend as much time as you need helping you figure it out. You're not on the clock anymore - if it takes all night or the rest of your lives, that's fine.

Jan: they've always said the right words and played the right parts, but deep down you know that none of your partners would have been there if they weren't being paid in some way. Being with Jan feels the same at first, even though you met organically and not through any app or agency - like you must owe him something afterwards, like him being physically good to you is a favour, a job.

But you don't have to buy him. And he'll do everything he can to remind you of that. His kisses are real, his laughter is real, he's with you because he wants to be. No, you don't even need to be the one who pays for dinner. Shut up and let him woo you. Idiot.

Jure: has been around enough to know when someone isn't really into it. You know you don't have to go all the way every time, right? You know that making out doesn't have to lead to anything else, that if you don't want any more this time then you can just... stop? He calls you out on it when it seems like you're just going through the motions for him - he's not having fun if you aren't. But that's okay, he has a great time just in your company, even with clothes on. So you can spend all night snuggling and gaming and snacking, with music and movies and blankets, because that's intimacy too.

Kris: knows your history (you never intended to be truthful about it so soon but something about him makes you feel like you can tell him anything) and makes an effort to do things properly. He's a patient man, he can kiss you goodbye at the door until your relationship reaches a point where you want him in your home. Physical affection is brushing your hair and hugging you from behind and holding your hand long before it's anything else. So when things do finally get steamy and he lets you run your hand over the bulge in his pants, you know that it's for you. Only for you.

Nace: your work has always been kink-heavy. It's enjoyable, your little niche, and it was one of the things that drew you to Nace - similar interests. Except... he's not a client. If you play your cards right, he might just become a boyfriend, something you've never had before. And you're not sure what to do when he doesn't want any of the whips and chains. He just wants his lips on your skin and his arms around you, equal power and pleasure. The spicy stuff can wait. First, he just wants to love you.

[rei-ismyname]

Ororo, how did you get here?

I wonder if we'll get a solid, in character explanation for why Storm would become a cop (Avenger) again. I'm writing an analysis on From The Ashes (so far) and while I'm clear-eyed about where most characters and books are at, I really need to know if they're even going to bother explaining why Storm would leave Arakko (oh yeah, there's still a million mutants on the red planet) and if they do to what degree. Sure she can just bail off screen but it'd be deeply out of character. She's a member of the Great Ring (or at least she was, occupying Magneto's empty Seat of Loss after she yielded the Regency to Lodus Logos.) She's the most impactful political and cultural figure in a generation. She was the leader of the winning faction in the Genesis War. She had a lover, who was caring for two orphans. I think they were living together. She was happy. I can't recall any ties to Atlanta, but it doesn't really matter. Without serious explanation she's going to look fickle, like she's shirking her duty. A duty she chose, too. Fought multiple wars over. She's getting a solo book, there's totally room to do it properly.

The other big ting for me is Magneto. The First Krakoan age put him through the ringer - his character arc was objectively given the most attention and subjectively the most satisfying. Even without Uncanny X-Men #700 he was poised to shake up the status quo but when you include his chat with Charles that's a promise. A promise that needs to be paid off. Not just any old promise either - it's an ideological breakthrough five decades in the making! He's been kept in the background so far and I haven't really been able to judge whether that promise is being kept or not. I hope so but my expectations are low. It would be such tonal whiplash I can't even think of an analogy.

Interestingly both Max and Ororo were Of Arakko last time we got a close look. Magneto died defending Arakko, he has friends there. He is literally one of the society's heroes for slaying Tarn the Uncaring and The Hour Of Magneto/Judgement Day.

Yeah, that's right. *AIR HORN* *PUMPS FIST* He cares about the Arakki and they care about him. He'd want to pay his respects to the Fisher King and generally see how it's going. He lost his place on the Great Ring when he died and Vulcan blew up his house, but neither are especially important. Both planet and culture are dear to him. After X of Swords, in that brief period when the Arakki were on Earth, it was Magneto meeting with Isca about teething problems. 'Twas Magneto who spearheaded the Terraforming Operation, handling the communication/logistics and harvesting enough iron to bring the planet to life from the Khyber Belt. While he was doing that, Ororo was fighting Nameless to the death for the Noontide Seat.

I could honestly go on, but my point is these two especially are invested. (Roberto Da Costa too, but it seems the New Mutants are represented by Magik alone and Cypher looking like an idiot.) If that continuity is disregarded I'm going to have a problem with it. Honestly, if Arakko is there and not being used in any stories I'll be scratching my head. How do you go from terraforming planets to hated and feared on Earth as anything other than a regression? The geopolitical implications of it being there pretty much break the world they're selling us. They're telling us it's so dangerous for mutants that they're developing secret hand signals and Underground Railroad'ing. At least some mutants would move to fucking Mars. All countries would be at Defcon 1. Did the entire galactic council just forget Sol exists?

I'll stop there, save some for the actual essay instead of the rant lol. If you're enjoying it I couldn't be happier for you. I am struggling to, though, and I'm very wary of heartbreak. Maybe that's on me for how I manage my expectations. We shall see.

[20dollarlolita]

Hi, I hope I didn't miss if this has been asked before. But I've owned two sewing machines now and can't seem to be able to fix the lower thread bird's nest problem no matter what I do on either of them. I've scoured youtube and tried every fix; kept thread tails long, adjusted tension based on fabric I'm sewing (used denim, t-shirt, or bedsheet cotton usually), changed needles, dusted the machine, the works, but no matter what I do I might be able to get through a couple of pieces of fabric before the tangling starts again. Is this a problem more common in cheap machines, maybe?

One has a metal case for lower thread bobbin that I can adjust but which I think gets too loose due to age almost immediately (mother's old machine of unknown brand, presumably lower-mid-tier when new), another was a $100 Brother on sale but new, that only has a plastic cover and no adjustable case.

The problem's at a point where I've lost all passion for sewing, dreading the next jam, just can't take the frustration and endless troubleshooting anymore. Would this be something more avoidable (using all the proper techniques) if I splurged for a better machine (though my max spending would be around $500)? Or am I just failing at something fundamental lmao.

What should I look out for in a new machine if I just want something basic that works without too much fiddling? Thanks so much if you take the time to answer!

I'm sure someone's told you to always thread the machine with the foot up, and then to put the foot down before using the needle threader?

We're going to break this into two answers, so skip down to the second heading if you're angry enough with your machine to throw it off a balcony and start over.

A) Troubleshooting very persistent bird nesting.

If everything looks absolutely miserable on the bottom, it's caused by there being very little or no tension on the top thread. I used to say "it's usually caused," but if there's big hairy loops of top thread that are tangling on the bottom, I've learned from experience that it is only caused by there being no tension on the top thread.

If it's just a little bit ugly, like you have eyelashing, then that could be a general tension issue, but if it's super ugly, it's a no-tension issue.

The question of why there is no tension can have several answers.

-When you put the foot down, the tension discs will close. If you thread the machine with the foot down, it's more likely that the thread will not go into the discs properly. You can test this by smoothly pulling some thread through your needle, and then (while still pulling) putting the foot down. If you feel that the thread catches or becomes harder to pull, then your thread is properly in your tension discs, and your discs are working correctly.

Another potential option would be tension unit breaking or going out of calibration. Unless you're working on a machine that's $1000+ dollars, your tension unit is going to be a couple of springs pushing on a plate. If something gets really loose, then the tension unit won't close when you put the foot down. On some machines (especially machines where the tension unit is a circle on the front of the machine) you can just open up the side and tighten a screw. On other machines, you need to take the top off and check if it's okay in there. While you're in there, you can...okay so I can't say "calibrate" your tension, because what you're going to do is better called "fuck with" your tension.

This is long so here's a cut:

Basically, there's an adjustment tool in a tension unit, which a technician can use to make sure that the proper tension is accomplished when the number on the tension dial says 4. It's a little gear with a stick on it. If you cannot get a decent tension by cranking your tension all the way up to 10, you can adjust the little stick on the gear to bring the default tension up. This will have the consequence of not knowing what number you just set the default tension to, but you can figure that out with trial and error and then stick a note on your machine that says "normal tension=6.5" and that's a lot cheaper than spending $200 to get a $100 machine serviced.

B) Just buying a new machine

Here's the thing: if you already are so frustrated with your machine that you don't want to sew anymore, you have a machine that's bad for you. Older and cheaper machines are prone to what my store's technicians refer to as "cascade failures", which is when all of the machine is between 45% and 90% broken. When you fix one part, it can last a very short time, and then another part will break. Pretty soon, you've put in enough money to buy a nice new machine, but you've paid the cost of a new machine and you're still sewing on a machine that's 45% broken.

If you're kind of handy and you don't mind occasionally opening up your machine and playing around with the internal parts to make it work better, then this might be a fun project. My store has a regular customer who has a borderline-nonfunctional Janome HD3000, and he really enjoys the process of figuring out how to make it work when something breaks. Apparently he used to be a helicopter mechanic in the army. Personally, I don't mind figuring out how to get one or two broken parts fixed. I have a machine where sometimes the stitch length goes screwy, and I have to 1) put the stitch length to 5, 2) flip it onto its back, and then 3) drop and then un-drop the feed teeth. I don't know why this works, but it does work, so I haven't gotten the machine serviced yet. But the vast majority of people who sew that I interact with just want a machine that works. They want to sew. They don't want to repair a machine.

So, if that's you, and you just want to sew when you want to sew and you want everything to do what you want, it's probably time to get a new machine.

A lot of people bring machines into my store to get serviced. Sometimes it's a machine that's not worth fixing. I can say that most of the "don't fix this, just replace it" machines that we see are either over the age of 25 years (and were not treated well in their youth), cheap Brother machines, and modern Singer machines of any price point. In terms of inexpensive machines, we sell a LOT of the Baby Lock Be Genuine collection, and we service a pretty small amount of the Baby Lock Be Genuine collection. We also have really good experiences with the mechanical Bernettes, the Janome HD line, and the Viking Emeralds.

For computerized machines, I'm very partial to the Janome QDC series. I have a machine from that series that I bought in 2009, got serviced twice in its life, and that is still going very strong.

I'm going to just spam some links here with a quick pro/con list. I'm not being paid to do this; it's just my own opinion based on what I know of the people who read this blog. However, if anyone is buying something from this site, please use PINK2 at checkout so that I get head pats from my company telling me I did a good job (it also saves you a little money).

C) Pink just lists sewing machines for 35 minutes:

Mechanicals: > Baby Lock Zest/Joy: These are two really popular basic machines that will be under $300. They don't have a ton of stitches, but they're all metal on the inside, and so they're going to last. I prefer the Joy over the Zest because of the stitch width option, but if you need the cheapest option, the Zest is the best cheap machine I know of in terms of life. > Baby Lock Zeal: As far as mechanicals, go, this one has all the features that are really necessary to be a full-fledged machine instead of a budget machine. > Bernette B33 and B35: These are basically the same features as the Zest and the Joy, with a couple of minor differences. These tend to be a little more expensive than the Zest and the Joy, but they're sometimes easier to locate if you want to shop local. > Janome HD3000 (white version) and HD 1000: These guys are tanks and feel very good to sew on. The 1000 has some stripped back features to get it in that price point, the same as the Joy and Zest do. The 3000 feels like it has all the features you'd expect from a mechanical machine. For some reason, a LOT of the HD3000 in the black colorway are trash. I believe Janome makes a HD5000 as well, but I don't remember if that's one that's weirdly bad like the black HD3000. I really don't know what's going on with that HD3000 black edition. > Viking Emerald 118: Personally, I think this is the best mechanical machine that's currently out there. They're powerful, last a long time, are fully featured, and are just good little guys. I have frustrations with their maker that I can't express publicly online, but the Emerald is good enough that I'll forgive it.

Side note: I have customers ask me "is it heavy duty?" which is a very vague question that doesn't actually mean anything. All of these machines can handle thick fabrics like denim. Machines with adjustable presser foot pressure (so not the Zeal, Joy, HD1000, B33, B35) will handle thick fabric better. That's what that adjustment is for. Every single one of these is more powerful than the Singer Heavy Duty line. Every single one of them had a metal internal frame, which is a big thing the Singer Heavy Duty will advertise. Every machine should sew through denim, and the fact that there's so many brand new out of the box machines on the market that won't sew through six layers of denim drives me ABSOLUTELY INSANE. It should be as absurd to have to ask "does it use thread?" as "does it sew heavy fabrics?" but instead we have to explain to people that yes, our sewing machines do the things that sewing machines should do, because there's so many reputable-looking brands putting our sewing machines that actually just can't sew.

Moving on: basic computerized machines

> A basic computerized machine has fewer complicated parts than a basic mechanical machine, meaning that if you do your normal expected maintenance, a basic computerized machine will last you longer than most mechanical machines. People don't like when I say that, but it's true.

Entry computerized machines that I like: > Janome QDC line: I have the precursor to the 3150 and it's a tank. Also you get push-to-cut, which is very nice. > Bernette B37 and B38: These have the same boards that the Janome 3150 and 4120 QDC have, but they've got some different bells and whistles. The 37 doesn't have push-to-cut, which is not a thing you miss if you've never had it. > Baby Lock Jubilant: This guy has a very nice needle threader but I find the dial on the front to be a clunky way of selecting a stitch. If the B37 is cheaper than the Jubilant, I'd pick it over the Jubilant. It's still a very good machine, and Baby Lock is relatively easy to buy online, so it might be more accessible.

If you woke up and decided you wanted to spend a lot on a sewing machine: >Baby Lock Brilliant: I prefer this over the one a step below it (the Presto II) because it's a lot easier to communicate with. A lot of Presto II's come in "broken" because the user changed a setting and didn't realize it, and the Brilliant actually tells you when you change a setting. > Viking Opal 690q: Unless you get a really good deal, I recommend the 690 over any other Opal. The features you get with it are very nice, and they don't come with the lower Opals > Bernina 335: You're not going to get build quality any better than a Bernina, but they come at a price. This guy is going to give you the same features as a much lower machine, but still run over $1000. They're very nice machines, though, so if you happen to win a lawsuit or something, you could spend your money on that. >Bernette B77 (or B79). The B77 has no right to have that many features at that price point. How did they do that? We just don't know. If you want this, subscribe to Bernina's sales info and to every sewing machine store you can, because it frequently goes on $999 promotion. And then screenshot the people offering it for $999 and ask me for my work email, and I'll match their price. I can match any price. It sure is nice to work for a company where I have that power. Anyway the B79 is the embroidery/sewing combo version of the B77, and it's an amazingly priced combo machine. This is useless if you're not interested in embroidery, but hey, thought I'd throw it out there.

And if you've stolen someone's credit card and you've got to use it on something before the police find you: > Brother 3100 is a very nice machine > Janome 9480 is very smooth to work on and basically reads your mind. The low bobbin sensor is good. > The Janome M6 is purple. > So is the Bernina 770 Kaffe Edition but that particular machine has a mysterious curse upon it so you probably actually want the 570 Kaffe Edition even though it's blue.

Thank you all for letting me vomit words for 90 minutes. Reminder that, while everything here I say is my own opinion that is not representing any company and is not endorsed by any company, if you want to support a small business in our fight against the big online sewing machine stores, you can click here and use PINK2 at checkout to save a little money and earn me some high fives from management. (If you want to go through the whole sales process and make sure you're getting the absolute best dead, I can also do that. Just message me off-anom to ask for my work email. The PINK2 code is for people like me who would rather save less money and get the thing Right Now and not have to talk to a human, rather than have to go through an online sales process).

[words-after-midnight]

Weekend kiss tag 😘

Thank you for the tag, @fortunatetragedy! 🦥

Tagging (no pressure): @revenantlore, @cwritesfiction, @klywrites, @mrbexwrites, @saturnine-saturneight,

@davycoquette, @sableglass, @sentfromwolves, @winterandwords, @randomstupidchaos, @jev-urisk + open tag

Rules: From your story/WIP, share a kiss. It can be any kiss, from forehead kisses, familial pecks on the cheek, platonic kisses, to full-blown make-outs.

I AM HERE TO EMBARRASS MY BIRTHDAY BRAINFRUIT. 🎉 Here's the entire scene featuring Gabriel and Jeff's first kiss, shown in a flashback scene in Act I, Chapter 7, "Easy Target."

Some context: immediately prior to this flashback, in the previous (past timeline) chapter, Gabriel made a promise to the moon (yes, you read that right) that he would not get drunk in Jeff's company. Also, Catricia was his therapist at the time of these events. Evan is his current (present day) roommate. In the flashback, Gabriel is 17 (almost 18) and Jeff is 18. Gabriel is 21 in the present day at this point.

At night, I head back to my room, where, for whatever reason, I’m alone. Come to think of it, I haven’t seen Evan all day. I can’t help but wonder if something happened – if he’s been brought back up to high security, if he’s been hurt, if he’s been spontaneously released, if he just said “fuck it” and flew the coop of his own accord. Maybe he’s dead. It’s probably nothing. Maybe he killed someone. Maybe his Thursday night group is running late. Maybe they found out he was plotting to kill you. I’m sure he’ll be back soon.

Crawling into bed, I lie under the plain white sheets, closing my eyes. But, as it happens, I can’t seem to fall asleep. My mind still runs from me, heart squeezed with the familiar, relentless, haunting grasp of grief. Dried from fatigue, my eyes stick to the ceiling fan as it single-mindedly spins to its death.

Thwack-thwack-thwack.

My mind is out on the balcony with Jeff on that warm summer’s night, three years ago now, watching his beer can plunge into the darkness of the backyard. Because I can’t think about the night I ran away from my dad’s without lingering on what happened afterward – about the twisted, beautiful mess I unwittingly dove into headfirst, and where I now tread water in a desperate attempt to stay afloat. Of course, there are things about this situation I’ll carry to the grave. But that doesn’t mean they’ll ever let me drown in peace.

Jeff brought a six-pack of beer and a bowl of cinema popcorn with us to the basement. The popcorn was Daphne’s, but we both knew she wouldn’t notice one bag missing. At least, I hoped she wouldn’t. Jeff, being Jeff, probably didn’t give a shit. He could talk his way out of anything and he knew it, the bastard.

We sat on the couch. He switched on the TV and propped the bowl of popcorn and the beer on the coffee table in front of us, telling me I could feel free to take a beer or two if I wanted. “After the vodka, you mean?” I mused. “Are you trying to kill me?” He just laughed. It wasn’t hard to make him laugh, I’d noticed.

I took a sip of the vodka – just a sip, because my head was properly fuzzy now we were inside, and I was very conscious of what could happen if I drank much more. I told the moon I wouldn’t get drunk. If I broke my promise now, I’d be forced to remember it every time the night was clear and there were no clouds to prevent her from looking down upon me in abject judgment.

I capped the bottle, setting the vodka on the damn table, because I was the boss and it wasn’t. Jeff snatched it immediately, uncapping it and pouring out a decent volume into the glass I figured he originally brought for the beer, mouth full of popcorn. “Don’t mind if I do,” he said enthusiastically, which I barely understood due to the popcorn.

He turned on GTA and I sunk into the back of the couch, feeling a strange sort of peace, like floating on a cloud. He offered me the controller first, but I was in no state to be running people over with any kind of precision, so I said, “Nah, it’s cool, I’ll watch.”

I took the bowl of popcorn and grabbed a handful, then another. It felt like I was sinking further and further into the couch as the moments passed. I was just starting to think I may, in fact, have overdone it a bit with the vodka when Jeff reached over and grabbed a handful of popcorn from the bowl in my lap.

“You know,” he said, once the mouthful was gone. He paused the game and glanced over at me, taking a swig from his too-tall vodka glass. “It’s cool if you want to stay here. I don’t mind having you around. Only thing is, if you do, you’re gonna have to do some work and stuff. Wouldn’t be fair to the others if not, you know.”

My heart practically skipped a beat. Oh my God, is he actually suggesting I can stay here? As in, live here? As in permanently? No fucking way. It must be the vodka. I must be hearing things. I just said, “Obviously.”

He was laughing. As I sat there trying to be cool – and, by the look on his face, evidently failing – he kind of turned to me, propped his arm along the back of the couch. His eyes tore into my soul again, and he looked like he’d just seen something extremely amusing (spoiler alert: it was me). He asked, “Dude, how drunk are you right now?”

Before I knew what’d hit me, I was kissing him. His mouth tasted like a combination of vodka and popcorn that had no business being so intoxicating. Moments – could have been seconds, could have been minutes, I was too buzzed to be sure – passed before I snapped out of it, one hand on his back and the other under his shirt, where his hip met the top of his boxers, and realized what I was fucking doing. I quickly broke away.

My forehead was in my hands. I could only hope they weren’t visibly shaking. “Oh my God. I’m sorry. I don’t know what got into me.”

I couldn’t bring myself to look at him, but to my surprise, he didn’t sound particularly bothered by this truly unfortunate turn of events. “It’s fine, dude, you’re wasted as fuck. Shit happens.”

Stomach lurching, heart pounding, not knowing what else to do, I got up and booked it toward the staircase. “Think I’m gonna be sick.”

He laughed. He fucking laughed. “That’d be the half-pint of vodka.”

I stumbled upstairs and locked myself in the first-floor bathroom, sitting up against the door, willing my breathing to stabilize before I had either the world’s biggest panic attack, or an actual heart attack, or both. Oh my God, I fucked up. I’ve really fucked up now. I can never face the fucking moon again. He’s definitely not going to let me stay now. He’ll probably never speak to me again.

I curled up beside the toilet – no blanket, no pillow, just the cold tiles under me and nothing but my burning face and renewed tears for warmth. I imagined this is what hell must be like. I found myself wishing I’d had the foresight to bring the rest of the bottle with me, because now that I was alone in the bathroom and not with him, I could have been drinking myself into oblivion stress-free. I hadn’t brought it, though, obviously, so that wasn’t an option. Neither was cutting, because I had no knife on me, either, and you’d have genuinely had to drag my cold, dead body out of that bathroom. All I could do was shed hot, silent tears into the floor, mortified, wishing I could turn back time and decide not to come here in the first place.

The next morning, I remember – also very vividly – being jolted awake by loud, rambunctious singing somewhere nearby, which quickly reminded me of the terrible, horrible, really bad fact that I spent the night locked in the bathroom at Silverwood Manor, and that, therefore, what had happened the night before was in fact real, and not a terrible, horrible, really bad dream.

I remember thinking to myself, even then, Oh my God, I’m so fucked.

I still can’t quite believe I was able to fall asleep that night. Groggy, my head having felt better, I rose to a sitting position, trying to rub the stiffness out of my muscles – the ones I could reach, anyway. I’m not sure even Isabelle’s chiropractor could have fixed my neck at that point. Even my eyes felt stiff – or at least puffy.

Before I could resign myself to the grave I dug and to spending the rest of my miserable life in that bathroom, there was a firm knock on the door.

“Gabriel? You in there?”

Daphne. Shit. “Be out in a sec.” Great, my voice sounded like a cat being strangled. Cool. Awesome. The morning was off to a great start.

“Is everything okay? Jeff said he thinks you spent the night in there.”

No. I have to get out of this goddamned bathroom. Everything is very much not okay. Jesus fucking Christ. What else had Jeff told her?

“Can I come in?” she asked.

Sitting there on the polished tile, trembling like a wet kitten, I tried my best to gain some semblance of composure. I thought about mindfulness, and after a few excruciating moments, I forced myself up and toward the door. Maybe Catricia isn’t entirely full of shit after all, I thought to myself.

I unlocked the door, letting Daphne in. Her face fell upon seeing me. “Wow. You look terrible.”

“Thanks, Daphne.”

“No, I mean –”

My heart rate picked up – not that it had slowed down much at all since last night. What does she know? I tried my best to play it cool. “Yeah… I kind of, you know… got really drunk last night.”

Her face looked like how I imagine the moon’s would have, if the moon had been a person currently with me in that bathroom. But when she spoke, she just said, “Eh, happens to the best of us. Come on, Kyle made pancakes – you’ll feel better when you get some food in you.”

Oh, shit, I was thinking. The kitchen. Fuck. “You know, Daph –”

“Food first. You’ll thank me later.”

I followed her into the kitchen, dreadful as it is, wishing I had the power to dissociate on command. He was there, obviously. He’d now integrated some kind of interpretive dance into his musical spiel. Holding a newspaper over his head, he gestured and strutted unabashedly around the kitchen island, humming loudly. I sat down, carefully staring at the dotted white marble of the tabletop. Daphne went straight for the coffee maker.

“I dunno,” she said – likely in my general direction, seeing as there was no one but the three of us in the kitchen. Because of course there wasn’t. “He just got up and started singing. He’s still pissed off about his probation. Which, by the way, he wouldn’t have if he stopped punching people in the face at bars.”

A plate containing two thick pancakes was set in front of me. It was joined by black coffee and utensils moments later.

“Enjoy,” said Daphne. “Kyle’s a dick, but he makes the world’s best pancakes.”

Jeff, still humming cheerfully, circled the kitchen island like a vulture stalking its prey. He came up behind me, hand on my shoulder. It’s a miracle I didn’t fall out of my chair. “How ya feeling, kid?”

I want to dig a hole in the backyard, crawl into it, and die. “Been better.”

He chuckled. He was back at the front of the island now, and sat down facing me, swiping a chunk from one of my pancakes with his fingers. As my mouth opened in protest, he asked, “How’s the hangover on a scale from one to ten? I’m at about a three.”

He was acting like nothing happened. Maybe I should, too, I tell myself. “A good seven.”

“Fuck did you guys get up to last night?” asked Daphne, who, I could tell through my peripheral vision, was now sitting beside Jeff. I was staring at the pancakes. “I didn’t even know you stayed over. Sounds like I missed a rad party.”

Jeff responded while I was frantically trying to figure out what to say. “If by ‘rad party’ you mean playing GTA in the basement with beer and a bottle of vodka until two in the morning and Killjoy passing out cold in the bathroom, then yeah, you missed a rad party.”

He was acting so normal. I risked a glance up toward Daphne. If you don’t get it together, she’s going to figure out something’s wrong, my frantic mind shouted at me.

She smiled at me. “Pancakes are getting cold, dude.”

I ate the pancakes. Mechanically. I grabbed the dish of butter and the syrup already placed in the center of the island. I took a gulp of coffee and it burned going down. When I finally dared to look at him, his playful eyes met mine – just for a brief second, but still enough to feel like a hot spear in the center of my chest. Why did I decide not to hate him again? I was really regretting that at the moment. I am so fucking doomed. I’m so fucked it’s not even funny.

I had no idea. None at all.

[queer-in-a-cornfield]

Tossing this bundle of silliness here for now until I can come up with a name for it and put it on ao3

“Aaaaand… Eureka!” Donnie exclaims as he finishes the final touches on his newest project. However, as he pushes away from his desk in his chair, he leans back too far and accidentally falls backwards.

Hearing the clatter, Raph rushes to the lab to check on him.

“Donnie, you okay? Raph heard a commotion!” Raph asks as he knocks on the lab’s doors.

Donnie untangles himself from the chair and remotely opens the door.

“I’m alright Raphala. I finally finished my prototype for accessing alternate dimensions, and I got excited and fell over, that’s all,” He explains as Raph enters and closes the door behind him.

Suddenly one of Leo’s portals appears just in front of the closed doors.

“What’s this I hear about alternate dimensions?” He asks, smirking at the annoyed look on his twin’s face.

Ignoring Leo’s teasing, Donnie explains, “I’ve created this device that should allow its users to visit alternate dimensions in my quest to determine if there have been other versions of us running around, or otherwise where those photos I found came from. However, I haven’t been able to test it yet.”

“Ooh, can I test it?” Leo and Raph both ask simultaneously.

“Well, I don’t see why you guys can’t both test it out for me,” Donnie answers. “Let me quickly check my settings, and you guys go stand over there. Away from the chemicals in case anything goes wrong.”

Raph and Leo oblige as Donnie mutters to himself while checking over his inputs.

“Okay boys, make sure to let me know what you see!” Donnie exclaims before pointing the device at his brothers.

He clicks a button on the device and a bright flash of light appears, startling them all and causing Donnie to drop the device and be briefly blinded.

As his vision returns, he scrambles to find his device, hoping it wasn’t damaged, though it unfortunately seemed that some of the buttons had indeed broken and needed to be repaired for it to function properly again.

He looks up with his vision back to normal and sees his brothers still standing there.

“Well, at least you guys didn’t get stranded in a whole separate dimension without a plan, but unfortunately the test failed,” Donnie explains. However, Raph’s response is rather unexpected.

“What- what happened? Where am I?” he asks, sounding confused and almost groggy.

Similarly, Leo blinks as though he’d suddenly woken up and asks, “What’s going on? Why is my skin green?”

“Fascinating…” Donnie thinks. “What happened to them?”

Suddenly Leo startles and asks again, much more scared, “Wait- WHY AM I GREEN?”

Raph looks down and his eyes quickly widen in surprise as well.

“What happened to my feathers? Or my clothes? Why am I actually tall?? Is this a dream? Why do I sound like this?” he anxiously questions, frantically looking around the room.

“Gentlemen, could either of you explain what exactly happened to you?” Donnie interjects.

Both Raph and Leo’s heads snap to look straight at Donnie.

“And who exactly are you?” Leo asks.

“Uh, I’m Donatello…, your brother.”

Receiving quizzical looks from both brothers, Donnie begins to figure out what might’ve actually happened.

“Okay, can you guys tell me your names?” He requests.

Leo glances at Raph, and Raph nods slightly in return.

“Dewey,” answers Leo.

“Huey,” answers Raph.

“Okay, so that’s not actually Leo and Raph. Good to know,” Donnie notes.

“Okay. R- Huey, can you explain what happened to you guys and where you came from? I need to figure out how to get you two home.”

“Well, we’re from Duckburg, Calisota, and we were getting ready to go to bed for the night when suddenly we blacked out and then came to here.”

“Calisota, you said? That’s definitely an alternate dimension. We have Minnesota and California here, but no Calisota. And no Duckburg either.”

“Weird,” Dewey responds.

“So, what I think happened was that rather than having built a device to visit alternate dimensions, I’ve actually made some sort of bodyswap machine that brought you two here. And I would bet that my brothers, Raph and Leo, and inhabiting your bodies right now as well,” Donnie explains.

“Well, that would certainly explain what’s going on with-“ Huey pauses and clears his throat. “Sorry, I’m not used to my voice sounding… like this.”

“Well my voice sounds Dew-riffic!” Dewey interjects, smirking very similarly to Leo. Both Huey and Donnie roll their eyes.

“Waitwaitwaitwaitwait, what’s this guy’s name again?” Dewey continues, gesturing at the body he’s inside.

“You’re Leo, and Huey is Raph,” Donnie supplies.

“Leo… hmm…” Dewey wonders, trying to think up a pun. “I got nothing.”

“Anyway,” Huey interjects, trying to steer the conversation back to where it was before. “That explanation would certainly explain what we’re doing here. But how do we get out? Cause, no offense to you, I do not want to be a turtle, even if Dewey might not mind.”

“Hey, the shell and stripes are cool, but I do miss having feathers… and clothes,” Dewey adds.

“No offense taken, don’t worry. It should be a relatively simple process to get you guys swapped back, but I’ll need some time to repair the device I made that brought you here,” Donnie explains. “No one else is home except for Dad, who’s no doubt passed out on the couch, so feel free to explore the lair while you wait. I can have Shelldon help you guys with anything you need as well.”

“Shelldon?” Dewey asks.

“He’s a robot I built that’s also kind of my son,” Donnie replies, confusing him even more.

Suddenly, Shelldon wakes up from sleep mode and flies over behind Donnie, startling Huey and Dewey.

“I heard you talking about me, Dad!” Shelldon exclaims. Noticing Huey and Dewey, he nods, “Hey, Raph, Hey, Leo.”

“Quick update, I accidentally bodyswapped Raph and Leo for these two duck kids named Huey and Dewey. Help them out if they need anything while I fix this up so they can go home,” Donnie explains.

“Got it,” Shelldon replies.

“Now, if you three will excuse me, I have some work to do,” Donnie says, opening the lab’s doors to the rest of the lair.

“Wait! How long do you think it’ll take you to fix it?” Huey inquires.

Donnie thinks for a moment, then answers, “Well, it could be a bit. Potentially overnight, so you guys might want to get some sleep.”

“Oh,” Huey responds somewhat dejectedly. “Shelldon? Can you show us where Raph and Leo’s beds are, then?” he asks.

“Sure, dudes,” he responds before zipping in front of them and down the hall to lead the way.

The lab doors close behind them as they follow Shelldon, and Dewey pipes up.

“Well, at least we were going to sleep at home anyway, so this might be good for us to sleep.”

“Yeah,” Huey agrees. “I mostly was just hoping I could get out of this body sooner rather than later.”

The pair stop behind Shelldon, and realizing that Raph and Leo had their own rooms, bid each other an awkward goodnight before splitting up.

Huey, walking into Raph’s room, sits on the bed for a minute taking everything that’s just happened in. This whole place is so different, he’s so different. It’s very strange, to say the least. Looking in a mirror, rather than seeing his rounded, feathery face, he sees a bandana-laden turtle’s face looking back at him.

Suddenly he hears a knock on the door, and Dewey enters, being clad in a shell and plastron, with green skin and pink and yellow markings, but also a bright blue unicorn onesie.

Huey chuckles, “Where did you find that?”

“I dunno, it was just in his closet,” Dewey answers nonchalantly. “Being practically naked like that felt weird, so I just started looking around and found it.”

“It is really awkward, even though they don’t seem to care,” Huey agrees, getting up to look at what clothing Raph had to offer. He quickly finds Raph’s own onesie and steps into it.

Dewey has laid himself down in the bed and Huey lays back down next to him. They’re both silent for a moment.

“I don’t like being someone else,” Huey says.

“Yeah. It’s weird,” Dewey agrees.

The pair cuddle together in silence and soon fall asleep.

Several hours later they find themselves awoken by the flash of a phone camera and see Donnie standing over them with his phone.

“What’re you doing?” Huey sleepily rumbles.

“Oh, don’t mind me, just collecting blackmail on my brothers,” Donnie explains. “Well, you two aren’t my brothers, but… you know what I mean.”

“No, yeah, that’s completely understandable,” Dewey concurs.

Putting his phone back away, Donnie informs them, “Anyway, I just got the device working again, so you guys are good to go home.”

Huey and Dewey’s faces instantly light up and they both jump up and quickly follow Donnie back to his lab.

The pair reenter the lab and end up standing in almost the exact same positions as they were in just before this whole mess began. Though this time Donnie makes sure to shield his eyes.

“Well, gentleducks, it’s been great to meet you, but it’s about time you two head home and I get my brothers back,” Donnie says.

“Thanks for helping us so fast. I don’t know how long I could’ve handled having this huge shell on my back,” Huey replies.

“I think it would be kinda cool for adventuring, but yeah, I’m ready to go too,” Dewey agrees.

Donnie aims the device at the two of them and counts down “Here we go, in 3… 2… 1…”

A bright light flashes, and when Donnie reopens his eyes, he sees Raph and Leo looking very disoriented.

“Welcome back, bros,” Donnie exclaims.

Sounding groggy, Raph asks, “What just happened?”

“And why are we in our pajamas?” Leo adds.

Raph looks down, then teases, “Guess who’s completely covered now, Leo.”

Donnie looks at his brothers confused, then shrugs and asks, “Are you two familiar with bodyswap episodes?”

——————

With the arrival of nighttime to McDuck Manor, Huey, Dewey, and Louie were getting ready for bed. Huey and Dewey were both brushing their teeth while Louie was in the closet changing.

Suddenly, Huey and Dewey both blacked out for a split second, and came to with Raph and Leo in their bodies. They continue brushing their teeth as though nothing had happened for a moment before processing that something had in fact happened.

“Uhh… Leo? Where the heck are we?” Raph asks. “And why do I sound like that?”

“You think I know?” Leo replies.

Suddenly, they see Louie standing behind them in the mirror and staring at them.

“I’m not really sure what just happened here, but I also don’t have the energy to do anything about it soooo… good night,” he deadpans before turning around and getting in bed.

Raph and Leo turn and look at each other before Leo says, “Honestly, going to bed doesn’t sound too bad right now.”

“Yeah,” Raph agrees. “I wish I had more than just this sweater though.”

“Sucks to suck, my whole body is covered,” Leo teases before climbing up to the blue bunk as though this was completely normal.

“Shut up, Leo,” Raph says, climbing up after him.

“Shut up both of you, some of us are trying to sleep,” Louie grumbles from below them.

Raph and Leo shrug at each other before quietly settling in, electing to simply ignore the insanity of all this.

[lizardtakesflight]

"I do not know what I'm supposed to say when people clearly want me to feel properly apologetic/chastened."

I work closely with my sister in the same office. She is on the autism spectrum, and she said this to me today when she found out someone was not happy with part of her performance. We sometimes have conversations about things she struggles with as a neurodivergent person interacting with neurotypical coworkers or colleagues, so I figured that it was a good time to take off my Older Sibling hat and put on the Job Coach one.

Typically, an emotionless or brief "okay" is not sufficient when people point out a mistake, or something they perceive to be a mistake. It does not come across as an acknowledgment of understanding. In a work environment, that is going to come across as too passive and dismissive, especially since A) they probably don't know you well enough to understand how you express yourself and B) you may actually have a problem with communicating when you don't understand.

This is something my sister and I have talked about this before, where I would get angry and say: "Do you actually understand or are you just saying okay to make me drop it?" (It's usually the latter, but we're working on better ways to have that conversation.)

I personally had to learn the right response to criticism and make sure to stay mindful of it.

In a work environment, whether you think you're wrong or not, you:

1. Apologize: "I'm sorry about that."

2. Explain your thought process in the case that there was a true miscommunication or misunderstanding, keeping it very brief so that it doesn't sound like you're trying to make an excuse.

3. State what you will do differently going forward, or give a solution.

It's going to be frustrating to admit to wrong-doing if you truly don't believe you did. And maybe you really didn't! That's not really the point of this specific kind of interaction, though: it's a way to open communication in a work dynamic. I am not saying this is something you need to apply to your whole life, but can make a lot of things so much easier. Sometimes being able to move forward is more important than being right.

For example, when I started at my current job, I went crazy ordering office supplies. One of my coworkers in accounting came up to talk to me about it, so I said: "I'm sorry, I didn't realize how big an issue that was. Going forward, I can send you a list of the things we need to order, so you can tell me if you think it's unnecessary or we already have that thing. Does that seem appropriate?" That let us avoid an awkward or upsetting interaction.

In short: apologize, explain, give a solution. it's really simple, but very effective, you just have to stay calm and remember. I don't think most people either know how to do it, or if they do, they're not conscious of doing it. It does tend to pacify people, and sometimes even get them to admit if they did something incorrectly themselves.

I can remember the exact moment I figured it out. I did something to upset a coworker, and even though I did not think I did anything wrong, I went to her and apologized, taking those steps. That calmed her down and got her to concede that she was in the wrong as well, and we were able to constructively discuss the problem. In discussing it, I was also able to then see where I could have done things better in the first place. We were able to move forward effectively instead of separately stewing in our feelings and leaving the problem unsolved.

If you're reading this and thinking that it's all very obvious, great! You probably have a much easier time communicating than some people do, and that's a very good skill to have.

If you're reading this thinking "what the hell, why did nobody ever explain this", it's okay. There is nothing wrong with not just instinctively picking up on these things, and I know how hard it can be to try to learn things that other people seem to just implicitly understand. It just takes a little more work to learn, but once you get in the habit of doing these things, a lot of situations can go much more smoothly for you.

[hyolks]

GREETINGS!!! I just read through the wasteland doc and hough. . . it's really really awesome. Do you mind if I share some ideas? (rhetorical. you don't have much of a choice)

Okay, so about some of the toxic sludge stuff; what if it and the alchemist stone are related somehow/derived of the same stuff? Maybe the sludge is like. really temperamental to being handled but if handled PROPERLY it has some. WILD effect. and maybe that's one of the reasons they were testing it on the ishvalen people; to test out what lengths they could go with it? Perhaps through this experimentation they figured out. Wait. What the fuck? This stone thing that we just derived from this sludge and like. these people(idk. maybe it reacts with a blood/sludge ration that is like. super high in human blood but still need s a lot of sludge and thats why they need so many people to make it(or, another idea. maybe using some of the sludge in like. a single humans blood or something and it'll react with a human being as its environment. and make a minimal amount of like. basically the philosophers stone and they need to harvest a LOT but humans don't make much and get killed through it. idk)) but like.using these people and this sludge will make these stones that are SOOO powerful? Also maybe. The reason they raided ishval is because they historically were the main people who had the sludge and had like. writings and stuff making use of the sludge(in minimal amounts. maybe it's also like a religious piece?) and like. idk. And maybe also!! The way the sludge is mass processed/produced/whatever makes it toxic if not done correctly and needs like. special treatment in small batches to make it OK. anyways. Also IDK if you have stuff on Hohenheim yet . . .But I think it would be cool if he was like. One of the people to discover the sludge? Maybe you can keep him super old because he was the group to discover the sludge + with the properties the sludge can have, it kept him from aging or something(IDK if this would really fit the vibe all that well so. shrugs). maybe hohenheim had a twin brother(or childhood bestfriend even. they would probably have to be close) that acts as the homonculus/father? and they found the sludge together. but what hohenheim had regretted his brother indulged and basically did the whole. capitalize indutrial whatever thing to it. And hohenheim wants to stop that. The homonculus works from the shadows and maybe had like the sins working under him as a shadow thing for. whatever evil capitalism reasons. yeah. OH WAIT OTHER IDEA I HAD FOR HOHENHEIM that MIGHT be able to fit into the same thing with the sludge. Maybe he was a former outlaw that wanted to settle down? But he found it too risky to put Ed and Trish and Al in the way so he left. Maybe he became an outlaw because of the Homonculus wanting to et him out of the picture because they didn't share views(or maybe he tried to take him down spesifically and failed which turned him into an outlaw and the homonuculus decided he was to dangerous to be kept around and started to hunt him)? So he turned him into an outlaw. And kept an ear out for him and when Hohenheim knew they were close and there were chances of him being caught. He left. IDK. ALSO. I know you mentioned in the Doc that Al being in so much pain all the time from the sludge stuff eating away at him and how it's a major source of angst/guilt for Ed. But because I am a sucker for Al not being able to feel anything what if he like. Got his nerves to be 'paralyzed' or something? To the point where be can't really like. feel anything. It's a trade off; he either feels so much pain or nothing at all. Maybe it eats away at Ed because like. He put him into a position where he either feels a shit ton of pain all the time or he feels nothing and that's not fair. Anyways. I'm pretty sure I had more to write but I can't remember. So I might come back later if you'll allow it. these are all just suggestions btw. you don't have to listen to anything I say and tweak anything that you see fit. also ssorry if this is like. a jumble of nonsense. articulating can be hard BTW I absolutely ADORE your art. It's literally so swag. like the way you color and do clothes. . . SO scrummy. I hope your day is nice :))

OUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHHHHHHH OUUUH I LOVE THIS I SUPER SUPER LOVE THE HOHENHEIM BEING AN OUTLAW THAT WANTS TO SETTLE BUT ULTIMATELY LEAVES TO KEEP TRISHA ED AND AL SAFE... shakes my fist at hoheinheim. if he knew/helped with all of the research before hand and then went rouge.... everyone and their mom in the government body would be hunting down his ass

you actually got pretty close from the shite i was thinkin for the sludge too?? like the uhhhh its super temperamental but is an incredible material when handled correctly??? like the reason the train cart full of it is on their property when theyre young is bc it was being transported cross country to central... for "science"... and it derails for some reason. explosion. and the longer it sits out in the country side the more it like... drains the environment. hence it being an Awful substance unless in a controlled environment and used properly. it being native to ishval would also lend to why it would literally be so invasive to resembool but hmmmmm... evil substances...

I was also thinking. ohhh what would the homunculus be. they. they could BE made out of it. or are just humans that are infected/injected with it like how king bradley is with the philosophers stone but instead of it just being bradley its all of them. also bc i like thinking of what their backstories could be. thinkin about lust in a saloon dress has me weak in the knees

BUT THIS KINDA BRINGS UP WHAT I hinted at somewhere in some tags but like. i was thinkin about . uhhhmm . the mold from re7/8. which after looking briefly through a google search bc ive got some silly idea of it in my head is described as a superorganism that is also literally just mold. it has some kind of consciousness to it, like memory. idk if it has empathy or emotions though.... either way it was used to create eveline, who does have some kind of empathy and emotions, and she can both control it and use its consciousness network ??? sorry i literally cannot think of any proper way to describe this atm but. i was like. oh THIS could be what the homunculus are. they could be like eveline to the mold network.

and ethan gets infected with the mold and bc of that he's able to stick his limbs back on with some goddamn peroxide and literally survive fatal wounds... i was like... ohhhhh what if..... what if at some point.................... ed gets infected by the sludge (perhaps unknowingly).... and sees the homunculus regrow their limbs (idk if mold would do that in resident evil games but this is now in my hands).... and hes like..... oh my god. Oh my god. We. We can get it back. We can get our bodies back.

BUT IF. IF the sludge has the same consciousness network bullshit that the mold does in RE... alongside the hallucinations n stuff... it could literally eating away at ed's sanity and al is like uhm the fuck not we are not fucking doing that . we're getting goddamn vaccinated. but the allure of having a body back...

I KNOW I SO AGREE al not being able to perceive feelings while being in the armor is soooo chefs kiss and RELEARNING how to be human again is even LARGER CHEFS KISS. but youre so right. it was 100% like that so it can be angst for ed. you mentioning this reminded me of a fic i read where ed smokes opium for pain relief and i was like oh what if al did that? since he's essentially a giant walking open wound? but idk... it would wean into drug abuse bc how could it NOT with the sheer amount of pain he would be in. i might think on it a little more but substance abuse is a topic I'm not super familiar with yet so.....

I HADNT EVEN THOUGHT ABOUT FATHER,, ohhhh you are one helluva thing to tackle my good friend. this is going on the back burner.

you are always welcome to say more!! i love listening. I'm literally kickin my feet and giggling reading messages like these. u have brilliant things to say love

[kelin-is-writing]

How would Dabi react to you asking him for a back massage?

warnings: suggestive themes.

dabi x fem!reader

of course if his girlfriend asks him for a back massage, who’s he to refuse? that would be disrespectful and he is a man with manners, so he would be rushing to you whenever you’re mentioning massages (in general), he wants to help you whenever he can after all.

he would then rest his hands on your shoulders then gently push you to lay down on your stomach onto the bed, straddles your thighs (not squashing them though) and his hands start pressing on your back using especially his thumbs to press the point where you feel your back hurt more, moving them in circle motions; when he gets satisfied hums in response, dabi’s lips curl up in a cocky smirk right away as he slowly moves his hands down your waist and when you both hear a joint crack a satisfied whimper leaves your lips immediately, making the boy freeze on spot.

he leans down to your ear “are you trying to seduce me right now, doll?”, he coos with deep, sultry husky voice, moving his hands to press more onto your lower back while you bit down on your bottom lip flustered, before you pouted showing your side profile to him “i am not? you’re just horny!”, dabi snorts gazing at your beet red ears, finding them so cute that he wants to bit’em, but duty was calling him so scooting lower he started massaging your thighs now, slowly and tenderly, squeezing them gently. when you felt his thumbs on the inner of your thighs very close to brush against your core, you turned back with a flustered expression, red all over your face and with teary eyes “do it properly, dabi...”, that flipped his switch in a split second and the next one he was resting his hands at the side of your shoulder while hovering over your figure with a wolfish smirk and dark eyes “don’t worry baby, i’ll do it properly.”, and then his arms were hugging your torso as he kissed you on the cheek before going down to your neck, while you kept complaining about how this wasn’t what you meant and laughing at how ticklish the kiss on the neck felt, as you tried to reason with him that this way your back was only going to hurt even more “i’ll take such good care of you that you won’t think about your back, i promise.”, and while it was true throughout the night, it was another whole different thing in the morning.