#but i'm gonna print it out and send it to her because i think it would be funny to get this in the mail

[blondie-drawings]

[delphi-shield]

OLD FOLKS HOME ↪ age gap hcs

the people you love & the shit they do that reminds you of the dreaded Gap (tm). characters included: leon kennedy, chris redfield, jill valentine, claire redfield, rebecca chambers no warnings to speak of. remember kids, if you're gonna date people in their 30s and 40s, you're gonna have different cultural contexts and, most likely, different senses of humor.

Leon is eight levels of irony deep. He started doing Old Guy Shit just to mess with you, and now it's all come full circle. 

It turns out he actually likes watching the weather channel. He’s monitoring storms that are miles and miles away from you, pointing out the feeder bands like it’s some kind of sporting event. 

He's genuinely invested in Ice Road Truckers. He asks you to TiVo it for him when he's gone. You do not have TiVo. In fact, you're pretty sure no one still has TiVo. 

Or you were, until Leon once again committed to the bit and got TiVo.

Really, genuinely annoying about old movies, actors, and directors.

”What do you mean you don’t know who Robert Redford is? The Candidate? Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid? C’mon. He was even in an episode of The Twilight Zone. You’ll know him when you see him.”

At least you get movie dates out of it.

Movie dates that he will pepper with trivia about the film, by the way. You don't need the commentary track. He is the commentary.

I'm so, so sorry about this. ���� is his favorite emoji. I know. I'm sorry.

Chris cannot fucking hear. To be honest, I think most of them have some degree of hearing loss - but Chris in particular seems to have very subjective hearing loss.

Yes, you were just having a full-fledged conversation. No, he didn’t hear you ask him to take out the trash. He didn’t forget, he just didn’t hear you. Sorry, you were standing on his right - come on, you know that’s his bad side.

Explains basic technology to you because he’s not sure if you know what it is. Then, in the same breath, crams in so many military acronyms he may as well be reciting the alphabet. Does not explain the acronyms.

Like, yeah, Chris. I know what a landline is. Dial-up internet, too. Now, what the fuck is an ORE?

Have you ever gotten ‘ok’ in response to a nude? You’re about to. Completely demoralizing, by the way.

He didn't know you wanted him to compose a poem dedicated to your beauty, okay? He tries to get better, but winds up sending shit like 'wow 👍'

Does the dad thing where he insists he's not interested in watching what's on TV and then stands with his hands on his hips in the middle of the living room, enthralled by the show.

Jill does not understand your music. She will not make an attempt to understand your music. If you see her tapping her foot to the beat, no you do not. She is not interested in expanding her musical horizons.

She only bought you tickets to that concert because she knew you would love it. She only went with you because you’re cute when you’re so into this stuff. She only bought that t-shirt because it would be a good souvenir, and eventually, a good grease rag.

Generalized distrust of social media. Do not show her a tiktok. She will ignore the video and lecture you about data safety. Jill, please. Just watch the fucking cat video.

And then she turns around and opts in to literally everything on the McDonald's app.

If there’s a rewards program, she’s in. Already sold. Didn’t even read the fine print. All that shit she was telling you about how you need to be more careful is right out the window for some free fries.

Anything for the thrill of a good deal. If she had more time on her hands, she would be couponing.

Buys in bulk. No, it doesn't matter if the two of you could not physically eat that much rice. It's cheaper to buy it like this. It's fine. It's good for you.

Gotta stock up on non-perishables, too. You gotta be prepared in case something happens. "Better to have it and not need it than to need it and not have it."

Claire cannot stop shopping from QVC. She's in the kitchen with David. It Takes Two with Mary and Sandra? Wrong. It actually takes three. Mary, Sandra, and Claire.

Infomercials have got her by the throat. You have so many gadgets and gizmos around your home that are just collecting dust.

Gets wine drunk and goes online shopping. Legitimately does not remember what she’s bought.

Absolutely will not let you open the packages. (“Some of this stuff could be for you, you know.” “Claire, last time it was a 10,000 count package of googly eyes.” “And I used all 10,000. You still haven’t found them all.”)

Uses every piece of technology until it’s about to fall apart. Absolutely not interested in having the latest and greatest. She’s one of those people who insists that as long as her phone can make calls and send texts, she doesn’t need a new one.

Speaking of texts. Somehow, she got it into her head that a read receipt is equivalent to a reply. She doesn't get what the problem is. You know she saw your text. Why does she have to reply?

Genuinely doesn't mean anything malicious by it - but also, if you did that to her, you would never hear the end of it.

Rebecca legitimately has facebook humor. They all have some degree of facebook humor, but she's got it the worst. 

Will blow up your notifications tagging you in shit that is just straight up not funny. I’m talking full on tagging you with “😂😂😂”

Unironically sent you a minion meme once.

It's not that she's disconnected. She teaches undergrads. She knows what’s in, even if it’s only from the periphery. It’s just that she doesn’t care. She has no interest in keeping up with trends just for the sake of it. She’s so used to being the youngest person in the room and having to keep up expectations that she just absolutely does not care anymore. She's glad she's not one of the kids anymore.

If it made her laugh it made her laugh, her enjoyment isn’t shackled by feelings of shame!!

If you have a group chat on any platform with your friends please invite her. She's just happy to be included. She'll make a discord if she has to, and she'll brag about it to her students.

Yeah, she says pupper and doggo. She does. Look at her.

[nyaagolor]

Ranking the Ace Attorney main cast on whether or not I think they'd be a narc

I was making a more coherent, serious post about the different approaches to justice each of the characters have and how that is shaped by their backstory... and then I realized a funnier question is what they would do if they saw you eating a weed brownie so I made this post instead

Phoenix: In the trilogy era, yes. He trusts people, but believes that trust has to be built on pursuing justice and always accepting the harsh reality. He'd be sad about it, but a narc nonetheless. In his Beanix era he's making his money through "totally legal gambling" and on the hunt for questionably legal evidence so I have no doubt in my mind there's a pot farm under the WAA for supplemental income. He gives up his narc ways and for that I salute him

Apollo: If I were to pick a single member of this cast who is NOT invited to the rotation it would be him. He had zero hesitation throwing Kristoph to the wolves after working for him for years so I know he has absolutely zero qualms about ratting out his friends or coworkers. Loyalty means nothing in the eyes of justice and it means nothing to him. He's a narc.

Athena: She's gonna lecture you and look all sad about it, but she's no snitch. She's been through the rounds with Simon so she gets it. Having to know you hurt her feelings is enough of a punishment in her eyes

Edgeworth: He's not a narc but he IS obsessed with being right, so if you don't immediately fess up with exactly what you're doing he's going to send your stoned ass to the chess dimension and honestly I think that's worse

Franziska: Unfortunately she is a cop. Narc.

Godot: Diego-era yeah he's a narc, but after the coma? I feel like he has better things to worry about, he would just ignore you. He has some soul searching to do and some grief complexes to unlearn he doesn't have the time to be a lil snitch. Post prison I think he's stoned somewhere in Kurain and chillaxing, as is his right

Klavier: Don't let his rockstar attitude fool you he's a narc and extremely annoying about it. The gavinners tour bus is dry as hell and it's all Klavier's fault. Daryan offers him a line and he gets all uppity and says "the only LINE i want you doing is the third line in the prechorus, you keep messing up the syncopation" and that's the end of that discussion

Simon: He's been in prison so he knows what's up. Not a narc. Might glare at you until you share though

Nahyuta: He's a narc and will lecture you so long about it you're tempted to turn yourself in to get out of earshot. He also never forgets and never forgives. Datz is trying to reform him but it isn't going well

Sebastian: Yes, but I think the idea of him having to turn in someone for it would make him cry so they end up comforting him instead. Kay thinks he needs to try a weed brownie

Maya: I want you to look at me and tell me she doesn't smoke weed. Not a narc

Pearl: I think if she found out that her big sister figure smoked weed she would have a heart attack. Def a narc

Trucy: I can say with absolute certainty that if you really wanted weed she could find you a dealer faster than anyone in the cast. Trucy is a magician and has grown up around a variety of people involved with some seedier institutions, she knows better than to snitch. Has not been and will never be a narc

Kay: Will help you shoplift. Not a narc

Gumshoe: A narc on principle, but would feel really bad about it and would probably let you off with a warning if you started crying or acting upset because I think he's a softie. He's not unreasonable

Ema: If you think she has even the tiniest sliver of respect for cops you're lying to yourself. Not a narc and will actively help you evade police out of principle. A homie, honestly

Fulbright: Not only is he a narc but he definitely runs the DARE program at the local highschool and is printed on half the posters they put up in the precinct. I'm also like 80% sure he doesn't actually know how weed works

[lokiswifeduh]

Doll, please

Pairings- Mob!Bucky x Fem!reader

Summary- Bucky is taken by the reader's ex-boyfriend. You go to save him, not knowing it was a trap.

Warnings- crime, violence, mention of drugs, angst, minor fluff, character being shot, cussing, torture, graphic violence.

WC- 2.6k

masterlist

James was taken, that was definite. The reason was still unknown. Of course, many people had motives. He runs the city. Being the head of organized crime. He had eyes and ears everywhere. He moved drugs and was the owner of most clubs, restaurants, and companies.

His only weakness is you.

However, Rumlow didn't take you. He took Bucky. You knew that for sure.

"Steve, please tell me you know a location. Something, anything?" The blonde looks down at the computer, wanting to give you some form of information. But comes up with nothing.

"I'm sorry, we still don't have anything."

You groan, putting your head in your hands and groaning.

"Boss' tracker went dark before he made it across the bridge into Brooklyn." Sam walks in, throwing the last known location that was printed down onto the table.

Your head perked up, running over to look over the information. "So let's go check it out." But Steve shakes his head, "No." "Why not?!"

He moves forward, getting slightly in your face. "Because that bridge has over five thousand people on it hourly." He throws the paper out of your hands and into the trash bin next to the door. "Buck may be missing but damn it I will not endanger you in any way in his absence." "But Steve-" "No!!" He shouts, making you flinch slightly. "You stay put where it's safe until we know why and or how he was taken." You let out a long breath, "Fuck this." Taking long strides you run out of the room and to your and Bucky's shared bedroom.

"Watch her." Steve mumbles, making Sam nod.

There was protocol, you knew that. If there was ever a reason why Bucky couldn't run things, Steve was the one who was appointed to take over. But just as Bucky would have it, Steve would never put you in danger. Which made it harder for you to help.

Or Steve would think.

You paced in your shared room, trying to think of ways you could leave, a way you could find your husband. You fiddled with the diamond ring on your finger when suddenly your phone pinged with a text.

You ran over to your bed, grabbing your phone with both hands.

CALL THIS NUMBER IF YOU WANT YOUR HUSBAND BACK ALIVE

You went to the dial pad, dialing in the number with shaky hands and pressing call. It rang four times before picking up. All you heard was silence before you spoke, "Hello, James?"

"Not James, sweetheart." Your heart stopped as you heard the voice of your ex. Brock.

"W-where is he? Is he okay? Is he safe?"

Brock chuckled, requesting to Facetime, to which you accepted; facing the camera up in an attempt to conceal your face.

He switched the camera around, revealing a dark and bloody room, focusing on some steel tools before he panned over to Bucky.

The state of your husband shocked you, making you almost drop the phone. "James?" His face was bloody, cuts and scratches tore his cheeks and jawbone.

His wrists were red, blood dripping from them as the wire that held him down cut into his skin. a knife was sticking out of his thigh, and his chest was adorned with deep lacerations that even you could tell needed stitches.

"Doll?" He lifted his head. His blue eyes had lost the sparkle they had not only a day ago as he looked into the camera.

"Hi love," Tears streamed down your face as you looked at how much damage and torture he had been put through. "I'm so sorry. I promise we're gonna come find you okay? I promise." You hiccuped, sobbing as you watched him grimace in pain.

"Baby don't come. Send Steve. Please, don't come-"

Your husband was silenced with a punch as you yelped. "Stop! Brock, please." The video was taken off of Bucky and went back to Brock. You could still hear him groaning in pain in the background as your ex-boyfriend smirked.

"I'll let him go. But I need you to do one thing for me princess." You gulped, hearing Bucky scream and protest as loud as he could in the back.

"What?" Brock punched Bucky one more time, silencing him.

That only brought more tears to your eyes as you gulped, seeing him give you an evil smile. "You, for him." "You want me?" "I will let Bucky go, as long as I have you in my possession."

You bit your lip, thinking it over. Wondering about how you would even get away. But in the back of your mind, the schematics didn't matter. All that mattered was Bucky being free, even if that meant sacrificing yourself for it.

"Where do I meet you?"

You once again could hear Bucky protesting in the back but tried to keep a straight face while looking at Brock. He smiled again, "At the corner of East 96th and Park." You gulped, realizing how close that was. Brock must've known where your and Bucky's shared home was.

"And you promise you'll let Bucky go right?"

Brock nodded, "For old times sake princess."

You thought it over for a moment, before wiping the still wet tears on your cheeks. "What time?" "You'll meet my men over there in an hour and they'll drive you to the location." "No," You shook your head. "My husband gets dropped off before I even think about going with you." "Ahhh," Brock sighs, turning the camera back to Bucky before landing yet another hit against his already bleeding cheek. "That's not how this is gonna work, sweetheart."

"Okay! Stop!" You screamed, "I'll be there in an hour. Just please don't hurt him anymore."

"Sounds like a deal." Brock sneered, ending the Facetime.

You broke down, falling to your knees on Bucky's side of the bed, clawing onto the covers. You could still smell the faint scent of your husband. The musky pine and balsam were almost gone as you laid on his side all night, crying yourself to sleep.

You had to do this. Steve and Sam were no closer to finding or retrieving him. And you knew they wouldn't let you go alone, or go at all. You just had to find a way to sneak out without anyone noticing.

Thankfully you still had an escape route from when the house was being targeted by HYDRA's men and you needed to get out for your own sanity.

You realized you had been crying, staring at the framed picture of you and Bucky on your wedding day. Looking over at the clock, it was almost time to meet Rumlow.

You slipped on some black leggings, putting on a long-sleeved black shirt and a jacket. Opening Bucky's nightstand drawer, you grabbed the Glock he kept in there and two hand knives.

Slipping one knife into the holster under your shirt and the other one in your boot. Finally hiding the Glock in the back of your pants under the jacket.

Now all you had to do was slip out without Sam, Steve, or any of Bucky's men seeing you. You knew Steve had for sure put you on lockdown.

You opened your door, seeing one guy turn the corner at the end of the hall. You stealthy moved, closing your door behind you, and walked to the other end of the hall, opening the usually locked door to the armory.

Thank god Steve had unlocked it earlier when they thought they had a location.

Moving to the computer in the corner, you disabled the cameras that were placed on your and Bucky's bedroom door. Shifting over you scooted one of the gun racks out of the way, trying not to make too much noise as it revealed a hidden door behind.

You silently thanked Bucky's mom for making an escape door in the brownstone.

Unhooking the latches from the door, you slipped inside the small space and closed it behind you, carefully descending down the ladder. You jumped to the bottom, opening a door to the alley.

The steam from the subway got in your face as you locked the door behind you, blocking your view. You felt a hard hit on the back of your head as you fell to the ground on your knees. You touched the back of your head, feeling the sticky blood on your fingers.

Another hit made you fall all the way down as you rolled over, looking at who your attacker was. "N-Natasha?"

"Night night...doll." One final hit to your skull and everything went black.

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

The first thing you felt was restraints holding your wrists down. Pounding in your head made you not want to open your eyes. But you could swear you heard someone yelling your name.

Lifting your head with as much strength as you could muster you wearily did, squinting.

"Bucky?" You mumbled, still out of it.

"Doll? Wake up, honey. You gotta look at me."

You opened your eyes more, seeing a bloody, tied-up Bucky in front of you. "James!" You tried to stand up but as you did wire cut into your wrists and ankles. "Ah!" You screamed in agony as you looked down at your wrists which were starting to bleed.

"Doll, don't move, okay? It only makes it worse." Your eyes shot back up to Bucky.

"Are you okay? Where is Brock?"

Bucky shook his head, "He hasn't been in since they brought you in here." "Natasha. She hit me in the head." You remembered, wincing.

"I know," Bucky groaned, "I'm gonna fucking kill her for betraying me." You felt your head pound again, making you groan in pain once again.

"What hurts, baby?" Looking Bucky in his eyes, you saw the worry and guilt he held for this. "It's okay. I'm okay." But he could see the pain your body held. Blood dripped down your neck from the back of your head. An open wound was still bleeding on your forehead, and your chest heaved up and down as you tried not to cry. He vowed to protect you and here you were, tied down and bleeding.

"I swear, I will get us out of here, doll. I promise." Bucky gave you the best smile he could when suddenly the door opened. Revealing Brock, and the traitorous redhead behind him.

You kept your head high, not showing your distaste as Rumlow grabbed the front of your neck with his hand, bringing his mouth to the shell of your ear.

Bucky however did, pulling on his restraints which only made blood drip from his wrists more. "Touch her again and I'll have your fucking head, Rumlow."

Bucky's threat only made Brock laugh as he removed his hand from your flesh, allowing you to take a much-needed breath.

"This is how this is gonna go, Barnes." Rumlow walked over to a table, picked up a pair of pliers, and walked back over to Natasha, handing the rusty tool to her.

"You're gonna tell me the codes to that locked safe you have in Moscow. You know the one."

Bucky gritted his teeth, watching how Natasha pulled up a chair, playing with your hand which was still tightly wired down.

"Or what?"

Brock looks over to Natasha, giving her a nod. The redhead puts the head of the pliers on your index finger, pulling it backward, slowly ripping your fingernail back; eliciting a guttural scream from your throat.

"Stop!!" Bucky screamed, but the torture continued. Blood poured from your finger as you pulled and tried to twist away. "Okay! Stop! I'll tell you anything! Stop!!"

The rusty metal was released from your hand as tears streamed down your face.

Rumlow pulled another chair up, sitting in between you and Bucky. "Now that wasn't so hard was it?"

Bucky's brows furrowed in concern, looking only at you. "Doll, I'm so sorry."

You shook your head, "It's not your fault, Buck."

"So, what are the codes?" Rumlow looked over to your husband as Natasha slipped iron knuckles onto her hand. "Don't tell him." You groaned out, knowing Bucky would lose everything he'd built if he gave that information away.

"Shut up!!" Natasha screamed, slamming her fist into your face, the iron weapon hitting your cheekbone and nose, causing your head to whip to the side. You screamed, more tears coming to your eyes as blood started to pour from your nose.

"Stop!" Bucky screamed, "She doesn't know anything! She doesn't have anything to do with this!!" "Oh, but you do." Brock stood, walking behind you and maneuvering your face to look right at your husband. Your chest heaved as you couldn't breathe from your nose without blinding pain. Blood dripped into your mouth and your right hand trembled.

"And this lovely specimen is your only weakness."

Bucky shook his head, "I'll give you everything, just let her go."

But Brock tutted, also shaking his head in disappointment, "I need collateral, Barnes."

"You won't get anything out of me if you hurt her."

Rumlow laughed, "Oh, I bet I will." Moving out of the way, Natasha stroked your face three more times with the weapon, knocking you unconscious.

A tear slipped down Bucky's cheek, "Please, stop. You can have everything." He pleaded, not being able to take his eyes off your beaten and broken body. A sob escaped his chest. He hadn't cried since the day of your wedding, and this was breaking him to his core.

Rumlow moved the chair in front of Bucky. "What's the code."

Bucky gulped, "The code.." He sighed, closing his eyes, "It's her birthday." Opening his eyes, he glared at Rumlow. "It's her birthday." Brock grinned evilly, "Now that wasn't so hard, was it?" Standing up, he threw the chair to the side, moving over to you and cutting all your restraints off.

You fell to the floor, startling you awake. However you didn't move, your body not being able to gather the strength.

"I gave you the codes, Rumlow! Let her go!" Brock turned back, Natasha and him both standing at the door. "You really think I would let you both out of here alive?" His head pulled back as he laughed. "Not a chance, Barnes." Natasha opened the door, and ten men walked through all with guns, lining up in a row. "This city is mine now."

Closing the door behind him and Natasha, a loud speaker squeaked. "You have thirty seconds to say your goodbyes before the firing squad shoots you both to pieces."

Bucky gulped in fear, not noticing you lifting your boot to grab the knife that was inside.

"Doll, you gotta get up!" Bucky shouted, watching you struggle to pull yourself to stand. The ten men readied their weapons, aiming at you and Bucky. You were surrounded.

Finally, you pulled your body up, hobbling over to him with the knife as you tried to cut the wire from his wrists. "You gotta get out of here, doll." You shook your head, "I'm not leaving you." Tears streamed down your face, hearing Rumlow count down. "I won't"

"Doll, please." Looking up at Bucky finally, you let out a sob you had been holding. Ten seconds left.

"I vowed to stay by your side, Buck." Looking back, ten guns pointed at you. You knew what you had to do. "Doll?"

You dropped the knife, straddling Bucky's lap in the chair, wrapping your arms around his neck, and protecting his vital organs with your body. "NO! Doll, please!!"

The men cocked their guns. "Doll!! Stop!! Get up!!"

You shook your head. "I won't let you die!!"

Suddenly bullets rang through the air, but you kept your head down, your body shook into Bucky's as you felt two bullets hit. You screamed, still attempting to hold onto your husband. Bucky sobbed, "Don't do this to me." You looked up, shakily holding his face in your hands, "I love you, James Barnes." Blood dripped from your mouth, "Till forever and always." "Doll, please."

Everything went black.

Fin

part two

masterlist

[luveline]

hi! could I request a fic where reader has trouble falling asleep without someone with her? maybe with Hotch or Miguel? like their voices soothe her into sleep? only if you feel like it!! have an amazing day and I adore your writing! 💟💟

hi gorgeous, thank you! ♡ fem

Hotch is rubbing the knots out of his neck when his phone pings with a text. 

Hi, handsome, hopefully you're sleeping, so when you wake up I was wondering if you can send me the photos from last Wednesday to print <3 

He adores your silly electronic heart. 

Hotch clicks your contact and brings the phone to his ear, waiting as the dial trills once. You pick up immediately, sounding sorry and sweet and the slightest bit tired. "Hey. You're awake." 

"Yes, I'm awake, I just got home. Why are you awake? It's four in the morning, honey." 

"You sound very accusatory right now. You're accusing me." 

"Mm. Can I come over, or will you fall asleep before I get there?" 

"Fat chance of that. You're really coming over?" you ask. 

Hotch leaps up the moment he hears the relief in your voice. Something is wrong, and you won't tell him over the phone. He says goodbye gently, dresses less so, and makes an impressively quick journey to your home to put whatever it is back the way it should be. 

You seem in good spirits even though the hollows under your eyes are prominent in the light of the porch, opening your arms for him and hugging him there on the door jam, rumpled under his chin. "You're not wearing a suit." 

"Would you have preferred that?" 

"Only if you were gonna take it off." 

"You'd like that, hmm?" he asks, his teasing at odds with the dulcet cadence of his voice. "I'll dance." 

You giggle into his chest. Hotch grins but quashes it as you look up for a kiss, your lips soft, sweet against his. You kiss his cupid's bow all smushed upward before stepping away from him, your hands drifting together. He pauses to lock the door and take off his shoes. You tug him impatiently back to your room.

Hotch has dreams about your bedroom. There's something about you, the way you climb into bed and sit pretty against the headboard waiting for him to follow you in, innocuous, intensely tempting. He pulls back the sheets and slides in, needling an arm under you to drag you into his side and down onto your back simultaneously. 

"Unnecessary show of strength," you say with a laugh. 

"Just reminding you." 

You turn out your lamp. He squirms to get comfortable. Your mattress is a mess and he's not young enough to bear it without consequence in the morning, but he'll suffer it and worse if it means you'll stay nestled against his side, your cheek at home on his bicep, your arm wrapped around his middle. 

"You'll tell me what's keeping you up?" he asks, hushed. 

"I really don't know how you just know these things…" You give in, because you always give in with him, and (to his credit), he always listens. "I don't think I can sleep without you, Aaron, I really don't." 

"Why? You're not worrying about me, are you?" he asks. 

"No. Of course I am, but that's not the problem. I just struggle without you here. It's easier when you call me, I can fall asleep with you talking to me. But otherwise it's hard." 

"How did you fall asleep before me?" he asks fondly, turning his face to nose at your temple. 

"I'm used to you, I think. I'm spoiled." 

"You aren't spoiled." He pressed his lips to your cheek, eyes closed to breathe you in. "What do you want me to talk about? Think of something soothing." 

"You aren't a man with many soothing stories," you say. 

Hotch tells you about the quieter things in his life, the things that make undertaking the unsaid worthwhile. Jack wants to be Bugs Bunny for Halloween and Hotch has no idea why. Spencer destroyed his computer with a cup of coffee —the problem being the amount of undisolved sugar clumped at the bottom of his cup that found its way into the computers RAM with no hopes of cleaning, rather than the drink itself. His office door squeaks constantly and he's half mad with it, but there's no solution beyond waiting for someone in maintenance to oil the hinge. 

He realises you've fallen asleep somewhere in his stories and he hadn't noticed. He didn't think your confession was wholly true. Perhaps you're stressed, or anxious in a way you haven't shared. And yet you fall asleep as promised from the sound of his voice, your hand scrunched in his shirt like you worry he'll escape you, your eyelid to his arm. Hotch contemplates you as you sleep, pulling the sheets snugly to your chin. He doesn't know if you know this, but you're his sweetheart. He finds you so precious, among a thousand other things, brave and kind and loving, but he knows he's a lucky man. He's the spoiled one. 

If you need his voice to fall asleep to, he'll talk until he's hoarse. And while he's away, he'll have to remember to call. He can't have you missing out on sleep. Hotch kisses the hollow under your eye and tries to sleep too, but he finds he misses the sound of your voice. 

[genericpuff]

no stop this article is too funny

this is from 2020 and while it talks about webtoons in general as a platform and medium, there's an excerpt from Rachel that's ironically and hilariously telling on herself when it comes to her priorities as a creator and how her work has aged incredibly poorly in the past 4 years:

She may as well just be saying, "I like Webtoon because they don't have any quality control" and "the trad publishing market had standards that I couldn't live up to, so instead of actually trying to live up to them, I went with a platform that has zero standards and was willing to make me into the standard regardless of my own qualifications and lack thereof."

Like y'all, take this as advice from someone who's had their fair share of rejection letters... the print industry dumping your unsolicited portfolio in the bin isn't gatekeeping, it's the nature of the business. The way Rachel describes it here - albeit I'm sure it's simplified for the sake of being an interview answer, but still - makes it sound like she was just expecting to walk right into the trad publishing market without an agent, without a completed manuscript or pitch, without any professional representation, and just slam her portfolio of mid-2000's art on the desk expecting them to hire her on the spot.

Don't get me wrong, there are a lot of barriers that prevent people from getting into the trad market, hurdles that can often be outright unfair (lacking the funds, lacking the connections, etc.) but... there's also a reason many of those barriers are there in practice.

First of all, fun fact: the reason why many publishers don't take unsolicited manuscripts isn't just to help them filter out the spam and low-effort submissions and prevent an overload of submissions (because if they took submissions from anyone and everyone, the overviewing system would break entirely), but it's also for legal purposes so that they don't get sued. Because if Joe Chucklefuck sends in an unsolicited manuscript that just so happens to include a plot point about the multiverse, and then a new book series or movie comes out that is about the multiverse, Joe Chucklefuck might get the sense they're being stolen from and attempt to sue them for plagiarism. This is why it's stressed so much by publishers that any unsolicited manuscripts will not just go unread, but will be thrown straight into the bin.

But second, many publishers simply don't want to take the financial risks on random start-up creators whose only experience is running their own personal projects on Tumblr, much less personal projects like Rachel's, half of which are fetish-content and all of which are unfinished. Of course they weren't gonna take Rachel seriously back then, she hadn't done anything to build up her presence in the industry.

In that sense, yes, self-publishing or pursuing a platform gig like Webtoons probably was Rachel's next best option which would be perfectly acceptable on its own, but it's just so, so telling that she thinks it's a "perk" for Webtoons to lack so much in the way of quality control, and we would ironically see the glaring evidence of that "perk" 3-4 years later in LO's final season when every single element of it as a "professional" piece of work turned to shit. It's no wonder she liked Webtoons in 2020 for letting her do anything she wanted, because what she wanted absolutely would not fly with an actual editor and publishing agency that cared about putting out a polished piece of work. The only way she was able to get "in" with a professional publisher was through Del Rey after Webtoons brokered a deal for her to have LO put into print, and even that level of prestige can't hide the fact that LO sucks ass in print. It's almost like under normal circumstances and without Webtoons carrying her on their shoulders above every other creator on the platform - many of whom actually do have experience in both tradpub and self-publishing - Del Rey wouldn't have paid her any attention. Without Webtoons, no one would take her seriously because she doesn't take what she does seriously, and it shows in her priorities as a creator who simply wants to just do whatever she wants without any sort of reasonable oversight like research or editing which are, again, necessary expectations within the tradpub industry, because it's not just about being a free-thinking self-expressive artist anymore in that industry - it's a business.

Of course, Rachel is probably now laughing from her soapbox over the fact that she now technically helps run an imprint, so haha "poo on the meanie trad market", but considering that imprint has still not launched and has been put on the same "coming soon" track that the LO television show has been on for the past 4+ years on a loop, I'm not holding my breath that it's actually going to amount to anything substantial.

(gotta love how they asked if Rachel was gonna create any more stories and her answer was RSP, which will help other creators bring their stories to life. so at best she didn't answer the question which is nothing new for her, at worst she gave away the fact that she's gonna be acting as some kind of producer who will be given all the credit and praise for other creator's works and efforts lmao no thankssss)

And god knows what the quality control of this imprint is gonna be like if Rachel's attitude toward the trad market overall is, "Nooo they won't let me do what I wantttt :((((" when she admittedly never even broke into the trad market to begin with and had zero experience working within that industry prior to LO.

And even then, Webtoons still doesn't give her as much freedom of choice as she claims to have. I mean ffs, this is the same person whose moderators stated that the Swarovski crystal dress from the finale was done as a "fuck you" to Webtoons for not letting her draw Persephone nude all the time.

She's obviously still being prevented from doing what she wants to do, when a lot of what she wants to do is better off not passing the vibe check and making it into the comic.

Quality control exists for a reason, Rachel. And "letting you do what you want" isn't necessarily a "flex" that Webtoons can claim over trad publishing when that "flex" is forgoing the traditional barriers that would usually prevent someone like you from failing upwards into manufactured fame the way that you have.

And that's my big bag of cents on that.

[otterloreart]

What's in the Box?

PONY PONIES IN THE BOX

If you've been following along you may have seen that @queenofsquids printed the Takara-inspired BJD last week, both in a "mini" test form and a full-sized one. The full-sized one was supposed to be in yellow, but the pure yellow resin turned out to be a more orangey tone. She incredibly generously offered to send me the orange pony BJD

And then

She incredibly incredibly again generously sent not only the little test takara-bjd in grey BUT ALSO printed my original takara 3D model and sent that?! This is so unbelievably kind and generous. I was so surprised when I opened them all!

I'm not sure if you were all aware but I actually dont have a print of the original "Takara duplicate" doll. I did get the seapony PLA printed at the library (and it was my first ever 3D print!).

For my second print, I got the Dollightful bunny doll printed because I wanted to have experience with jointed dolls made by other people before I put more complex models out. So I figured it would be a while before I got the chance to see my newer models printed.

So like its actually so kind of @queenofsquids to send these but also it's really meaningful to me because I started the takara project where I became obsessed with them over a year ago. It's so amazing to see this thing that frankly I spent so much time fiddling with (even if there are some imperfections; more about that later) and hold it in my hands 🥹 I just keep looking at them and smiling

Also I immediately stole the clothes off my NaNaNa dolls and put them on mini-takara-bjd. They're a little short but fit pretty well!

Some design notes/planned adjustments under cut

-The neck and arm balls are definitely too blocky, this doesn't impact the movement but it is very visually obvious

-Queenofsquids mentioned this but the arm bean is too big and gets stuck in the arm sockets.

^^ These two issues are the most obvious upon brief inspection but are also easy to fix so I'm gonna put out a version ASAP adjusting the file. Call it the version Version 1 Hotfix. Both of these should be fixed in the existing models with a bit of sanding.

-The legs are like just a touch too blocky and I think you can also see lines in the head and chest areas ;-; I think this would depend on the printer, like it might be fine in PLA due to the lower resolution. This can also be buffed out but I can adjust it with some effort

-> I think the blockiness issues come down to the fact I was trying to make the models not too high resolution because then the file size is massive, can't import into cura properly, and even slows down *my* beefy computer. that's why it might take a bit for me to adjust all of these pieces, especially the legs because they have a lot of booleans that lag blender. basically i leaned in the other direction and went a bit too far with some pieces.

-legs are very thin at the bottom (ran into this issue with the dollightful bunny doll too and had to redo quite a bit actually to make it neat)

-The bottom of the heart on the knee in particular is an imperfect fit. I was getting errors in Cura because of some issues related to the knee so I had to remesh it, if you'll remember, so I will need to maybe go in and redo that one :/

-The line around the eyes could be a touch more pronounced, its supposed to be somewhat stylized eyelashes

-I need to play with the arms/legs more to figure out potential issues with the existing joints. But they do at least work and hold poses. I'm not sure if people would prefer anything more complicated like locking joints or if this level of poseability is acceptable

Other things I want to experiment with

-hand pose variation

-nose/mouth variations? it is actually kind of funny to imagine you could switch the expression out to a little :o face or a c: or :3 type of thing

-pegasus/unicorn/fluffy hoof variants like i had planned before

so much stuff :0 and I haven't even finished bunny doll, although at least her paint job is basically done. Once I string the big BJD I can also test posing.

[noodlewritez]

Hello!!! Discovered u recently and im already loving ur work♥️

Can u write a smut fanfiction of Dave sneaking up in the bimbo!reader room with his Kick-Ass suit(bc she fantasises abt Kick-Ass pounding her at her room), he has to sneak in her room because her house has alarms for intruders in the front door(also her parents arent home.. soooo---😜😜) ifykyk..

Something hot like him being a bit of a munch, tit-lover and a sub..

And the suit and mask stays own!!!

Hope that makes sense and reading that out loud, i realise how i am a SLUT for him

The mask stays on

Pairings: Dave Lizewski x Bimbo!Fem!reader

Warnings: long, (i'm sorry), smut, oral, cussing, a ticket to poundtown etc etc

A/N: Thank you so much for loving my work! I am so sorry this took so long i have been so very busy😔

When you first saw that clip of Kick-ass defending that other man, late at night, something in you awoke at his voice, the way he spoke, the mask, oddly enough. Oof. You've got a crush on kick-ass.

One night, you sit in your room, the only light being your laptop in front of you, music playing as you bite your lip and start a message to Kick-ass' Myspace.

'Kick-ass, i might need some help with something'

No.

'Kick-ass, i need to talk to you...something personal.'

You smirk as you send the message and your address, biting your lip harder than before, Hoping he would show tonight, you get up amd change your panties to a hot pink thong that wasn't afraid to show itself

You hear a knock on your window, staying up to see if he would show up tonight and here he was. You smirked as you got up from your bed and opened the window. "Oh, Kick-ass...Thank god, you're here." You feign worry as he climbs in.

He deepens his voice and you internally roll your eyes. "What's the problem, ma'am?" He asks, his eyes darting to your thong then to your tits in your push-up bra in the playboy tank top. "Well..."

You sink to your knees. "Do you think you could help me...hero?" His mouth drops, nodding frantically, his eyes going back to your tits as you fishing him out of the suit. His dick springs out. Jesus...Christ...He has to be at least 8 inches. You look at him in disbelief and he smiles, finding it amusing. You push him back against your desk and he grips onto the edge as you begin by sucking on his pink tip, looking up at him through your eyelashes. "Fuck..." He groans. You choke on it, pulling back and spitting on your tits just for his pleasure and boy, did he find it amusing. He gasps, you feel him twitch and he almost doubles over at the sight. A virgin, no doubt.

You smirk as you continue taking him down your throat, occasionally gagging. You knew he was about to cum when his fingers turn white, gripping your desk with all his might, clenching his eyes shut. "Sh-Shit-Gonna cum-"

"Please cum for me, be a good boy, spill your kids down my throat." You encourage and he holds himself back, pulling away from your warm throat. "Can i-Can I fuck you-?…you are so hot..." He pants. You stand up, kissing him, giving him the answer.

He kisses you in a rush, his hands staying at his side as you have to guide them to the small of your back. His face gets hot and red. "Y-Your parents.." He breaks away from your kiss. "Not home." You sit on the bed as he gets down on his knees. "They gonna be home anytime soon?" You shake your head as you lay down on your back and he nods, getting to work. Darting his tongue out, licking your folds then making his way up to your clit, sucking on it, making your eyes roll back and clutch your leopard print sheets. "Yes! Yes, Kick-ass!" You feel him smirk as he puts his tongue flat against your clit, licking back and forth. His hands come up to your chest, feeling up your huge tits, rubbing his fingers over your sensitive nipples, taking it all in like the good boy he is.

He hikes your knees over his shoulders, getting more comfortable and using his whole hands to squeeze at your tits. "God, I'm gonna cum...Kick-ass..." You warn in your whiny voice, squealing and holding onto your sheets as you cum, him licking up all of it. You sit up, kissing him again, panting against his cracked lips and taking your playboy tank top off in one swift motion, breaking the kiss to pull it over your shoulders.

You lay down on your stomach, arching on all fours at the foot of your bed in your pink thong. You turn around and look at him, gesturing to come to you. "Gonna beg to fuck me then not do it? Condoms are in the vanity drawer" You tease, winking. He gets up quickly, sliding the drawer open and grabbing a condom. He crawls back on the bed, sliding it onto himself smoothly then taking his time peeling the thong off of your ass almost like he's unwrapping it carefully.

As soon as it slides down your glass thighs, he quietly gasps, biting his lip and smirking. "Can I-?" He asks and you know what he's implying. "Fuck me like an animal, kick-ass." You sway all of your hair onto your left shoulder, leaving your right one bare while you lay your head down, ass still up. He slowly slides into your wet heat and leans down over you, his hands digging into the bed and keeping you in place as he starts to pound into you. You feel him hit that one fucking good spot, moaning and grabbing at his forearm, nails digging into the skin. "Fuck..!" You cry.

He looks down at your slobbering pussy dripping all over the blankets, panting. "That feel good?" He asks you, fucking you harder than before, his tip hitting your g-spot over and over again. "Fuck yeah it does." He starts going faster, a little bit harder; a panting mess above you. "Fuck your pussy's so tight." He mumbles, screwing his eyes shut and fucking you faster, his hands flying to your hips, starting to use you as a sex toy. "Yes! Yes, yes, yes, Kick-ass, right there!" You whine, throwing your head down against the bed as you cum all over his hard cock, the rest dripping down onto the bed.

He feels you squeeze the cum out of him and his eyes roll back and he cums right then and there, spilling into the condom. He buries himself deeper and catches himself on his hands, leaning his weight on them. "Fuck, you are so fucking good." He pants out.

"We should do this more often..." You lift your head from the bed and reply. He lazily smiles at you, promising that to you right then and there.

"Fuck yeah."

[archangeldyke-all]

I just saw this art and had some CEO Sevika Thoughts 😵‍💫😵‍💫

https://twitter.com/2400db/status/1777950953817207073

O. M. G. i'm combining this with another ask i got because these two reqs go together like peanutbutter and jelly. EEEK! (also, the link doesnt seem to work now, but it was art of two characters-- i'm not sure who-- where one was sitting in a spinny wheel office chair, back to her computer set up, and the other was straddling her, trying to talk on the phone while the first girl is feeling her up)

the last tidbit in your vacay sex w ceo sev hcs inspired me. could we please get something soft with high!sev after both her and r have smoked?

i like to imagine her hair in a bun with a hoodie and sweatpants on. just looking so pretty and soft and staring at reader like :]

i also like to think she likes skin to skin. :3

🌕

men and minors dni

from time to time, you and sevika work from home.

her penthouse has three bedrooms. one for the two of you, one for guests, and one you've turned into a little study for the both of you for times like this.

two desks on opposite walls, a few bookshelves, a couch, it's a good space. it's helped a lot over the years. when sevika's sick, you manage to convince her to just spend the day in her study instead of torturing herself by dragging herself to work. when the two of you are feeling burnt out, a day taking calls and video meetings at home always help.

and today, you're using it for the best reason of all. it's a snow day.

the city below sevika's windows is covered in a blanket of snow. you've been watching the white powder fall all day. sometimes the blizzard rages so hard, that all the windows in sevika's high rise are greyed-out, and it's like you guys are living inside of a cloud.

sevika has no meetings today. you don't either. so, in an effort to stay cozy, you both decided to stay in your pajamas. sevika looks so snugly in her big sweatshirt and plaid pajama pants. her feet are socked in mis-matched animal print socks, one cats, one ducks. her hair's in a messy bun, and she's still got a bit of sand in her eye even though it's almost lunch. you love her like this.

it's been a slow day. with the whole city trapped inside, the usual twenty calls an hour you're used to answering has dwindled down to two.

at lunch, sevika manages to convince you to smoke a joint with her.

"c'mon babe." she whines, kissing up your neck as you stir the tomato soup heating up on the stove. "no one's gonna need us today. and we're already so cozy, 'n we got nowhere to go..." she wiggles the fat joint she'd rolled in your face. you huff and roll your eyes.

"i need to talk to HR." you grunt, snatching the joint out of her hand and shoving the bubbling pot of soup to the side. "my boss is peer pressuring me to do drugs with her." you tease, quickly lighting the tip of the joint against the burner before putting the soup back. sevika snatches it from you before you can take a puff, running out to the balcony. "sevika!" you squeal as she throws sliding door open. "you're gonna freeze your ass off!" you laugh.

"come here!" she demands, waving you over. you giggle, turning the burner off and running after your wife, grabbing two blankets off the couch as you go.

the balcony is spacious and covered, but with the wind this high up, there's only four inches of space that hasn't been covered in snow. you and sevika squeeze together in the shelter, shivering and huddling under the blankets as the blizzard rages around you.

"you're insane!" you laugh, sevika pulls you closer to her chest, puts the joint, somehow still alight, between your lips.

"puff." she says. you forget the cold for a moment-- the demand sending a shock of arousal down your spine. you take a hit, keeping eye contact with her, and she grins, before pulling the joint away and pressing her mouth against yours.

you exhale, and sevika inhales the smoke from your lungs before she shoves her tongue down your throat.

she pulls away with a smirk. you gulp. "there. warmer?" she asks, putting the joint to her lips as she smirks down at you. you huff, then stick one of your freezing cold hands under her sweater, pawing at her nipple. she squeaks, you giggle at how quickly her nipple gets hard in your fingers.

you guys smoke the joint fast, after that, faster than you probably should've smoked a joint that big. but it was so cold, and the only relief was the warmth from the joint, and you couldn't really feel the high out in the cold...

which means that once you guys get inside, giggling and shaking the snow off your blankets and out of your hair as you quickly warm up, you're both hit with a very sudden, very intense high.

you know you're fucked when it starts to feel like you're underwater. you know sevika's fucked when you look up from your feet where you're struggling to get out of your slippers, and find her giggling at a dick she'd drawn in the frost on the glass wall of the living room.

"sev." you whisper, grinning. she looks over at you, her smile growing impossibly wider when she sees you. you can practically see hearts in her eyes, and you snort. "oh shit." you laugh.

"we still got work." she giggles. you bite your lip.

"fuck." you chuckle.

"ooooh babe! food!" she says suddenly, grabbing your hand and dragging you to the kitchen.

logically, you know that it only takes about ten minutes to make two grilled cheeses and heat up some soup. but it feels like it takes a year.

you keep turning the burners off by instinct-- and sevika has to laugh and turn them back on, reminding you that you're cooking lunch.

she keeps trying to 'season' the food-- which is concerning for a number of reasons. one being that sevika's a horrible cook, who doesn't know the difference between a teaspoon and tablespoon; two, being that she's holding the cinnamon sugar while she says it. the third, most concerning thing is that you're tempted to let her. cinnamon grilled cheese? your high, munchie focused mind thinks, that could work...

eventually, the food is finished, without modification. sevika has to smack your hands twice to remind you to wait for it to cool off. you have to smack hers once.

you guys eat, curled up together on the couch in your study. it could be the weed, but you think it may genuinely be the best grilled cheese of your life.

sevika seems to agree. she keeps moaning and grunting as she chews and slurps her soup.

it should gross you out. she's too high to mind her manners and chew with her mouth closed. really though, it's just turning you on.

she looks up at you, her cheeks stuffed with grilled cheeses, tomato soup dripping down her chin onto her lap, and you bite your lip. she chews, swallows, then speaks. "you wan' som'a mine?" she offers.

your heart leaps in your chest and you surge forward, pressing your mouth against sevika's. she groans, her hands flailing, and she clumsily puts her dishes on the little coffee table. the second she's free, you straddle her lap, clawing at her shoulders, pinning her to the couch. she pulls you down to grind against her, sinking her nails into your hips. you shudder.

you aren't wearing anything under your pajama pants, and you know sevika isn't either. it's just two thin pieces of flannel separating you. for a moment, the dry fabric adds a delicious friction to your movements--but you soak through your and sevika's pants in less than a minute.

and, fuck, you feel like you're in heaven. you feel like you're melting into sevika, it feels like her fingers are made of magic, the sweet grunts and whimpers she's letting out sound like music.

she's like putty in your hands too, chasing you when you pull back, whining when you pull away to breathe. you giggle, smiling down at her and tucking her flyaways behind her ears, she sighs, nuzzling against your palm, and you lean down to kiss her forehead.

"love you." you whisper. she smiles.

"i love you too." she says. you watch in fascination as she licks her lips slowly, looking you up and down. "so... y' gonna ride me now or what?" she asks, grinning and waggling her eyebrows at you.

you burst into a fit of giggles, and sevika grins, nuzzling against your neck and sucking hickeys into your throat. "mmm... okay." you agree. you can feel her lips curl into a smile against your neck, her fingers tugging the drawstring on your pajamas undone.

suddenly, your work-phone starts ringing on your desk. you and sevika both turn around to glare at the sound, and you groan when you realize what it is. sevika makes a choked sound. "n-no--" she manages to whine before you pull yourself off her lap and start walking over to your desk.

sevika squawks, and then in a flash, she sprints over and squeezes between you and your desk chair, flopping into it and tripping you on the way. you squeak, but sevika catches you around your waist, pulling you onto the chair, and her lap, in a straddle. you huff, glaring down at her, and she grins.

"answer the phone." she demands, just like earlier on the balcony. you shiver, and she grins, tugging your pants down over your ass as you bend over her and grab the phone off your desk, pressing it to your ear

"hello?" you choke out. sevika chokes on a laugh, smacks your ass, and you flail, squeaking and smacking her shoulder as you do.

the voice on the other line-- somewhat familiar, a recent client's assistant or something-- asks to speak to sevika. sevika, the exact moment the voice says her name, sinks her teeth into your neck while her fingers start to circle your clit.

"ah-huh-wh-sheeee's, uh, she's not available right now." you say, cringing. sevika's free hand tugs your sweater up, and you smack her forehead-- already knowing what she's planning.

the voice on the phone babbles on and on-- you're not sure about what, you're distracted by the cocky smile she shoots you before ducking in and taking your breast into her mouth. you moan, a horrible, very audible "aaah!" right into your phone.

sevika grins like the devil.

"sorry, s-sorry--there's a bug!" you choke out before the person on the phone can ask you any questions.

oh that's okay. the voice says. i'm the same way, especially about roaches. ew. anyways, as i was saying...

sevika shoves three fingers past your lips and down your throat, you gasp, sputter, and choke, and sevika pulls her fingers free just in time for you to mutter a "sorry, continue," down the line, before shoving her fingers back in your mouth.

it's possibly the hottest thing that's ever happened to you. she keeps thrusting her fingers in and out of your mouth, tiny clicking wet noises escaping with every thrust of her fingers as drool starts to drip down her wrist and your chin.

you try to keep your moans to a minimum. you don't succeed very well.

"you like this?" she whispers. you nod, your eyes closed, tears soaking your cheeks as she continues to fuck your throat with her fingers.

she giggles, then pulls her hand away.

you gasp, your eyes flying open for you to glare at your wife. she just darts forward and gives you a quick kiss, and then she sinks one of her drool-covered fingers inside of you.

you bite your tongue to keep from whining. she kisses a path to your tit, gives it a few nips, then bites your unkissed nipple as she sinks a second finger in your cunt.

"uhhhn, fu--she actually just walked in--here she is--" you spit out before pulling the phone away from your mouth, letting out a long whine, and pushing the phone into sevika's ear. she glares at you, pulling her mouth away from your tits with a pop that you're certain whoever's calling can hear.

"hullo?" she grunts, pressing the phone between her shoulder and ear, freeing her hand to fondle pull her pants down as she sinks her third finger inside of you. your thighs quake, her cock springs free, and you moan.

"fuck, sev, please."

she grins, gives your cunt a few more good thrusts with her fingers, before pulling them out and spitting in the palm of her hand, giving her cock a few quick pumps, and then lining it up to your cunt.

it's your turn to get your revenge. sevika always needs a second to adjust before she can sink all the way inside you-- overwhelmed by the squeeze and warmth-- but today you don't allow it.

you sink down on her in one swift movement, grinning at the pathetic, "hhhhaa--" it draws out of her. you're so fucking lucky whoever's on the phone is a chatterbox.

you start bouncing on her cock, your ass smacking her thighs with each go, and sevika's got the most pained, pathetic look on her face as she bites her lip to keep her moans in.

you chuckle. "you're lucky you're cute." you whisper, before pulling your shirt off and shifting so sevika can muffle her moans in your tits, one of your hands tangled in her bun, at the base of her neck.

you tug the phone out of her hand, taking a deep breath and collecting yourself in a true show of your strength and professionalism-- and steadily, (not at all breathy, no matter no much sevika will pretend otherwise) say: "i'm so sorry to have to cut our conversation short, but it seems the blizzard's just knocked the power at our facilities out, and we have to go handle that before our heat goes next. we'll be sure to call you back as soon as possible."

oh, well i'm so sorry to hear that! i hope all your employees are safe! i must say, i thought people were being dramatic about the snow, but it must be awful bad where you are if-- you hang up.

"fuck!" you shout, throwing the phone back down on your desk. sevika growls against your tits, and it a second, shes standing, keeping you on her cock with a solid grip on your ass.

she drops you on the couch, not losing her rhythm for a moment as she balances on top of you. eventually, she has to breathe, and she pulls away from your tits with a gasp. "i fucking love you." she whimpers. you giggle.

"i love y-you too, sev." you whisper.

"louder, baby, nobody's listenin' anymore." she demands. you whimper, clenching around her cock, and she chuckles, one of her hands darting down to rub at your clit.

"s-sevika! baby, i love you, i love you!" you gasp. she grins.

"there you go."

"i love you, please, i'm so close you're gonna-- i'm gonna-- sev, i just-- you--"

"whaddya need baby? anything, anything."

"kiss?" you whimper.

sevika cums at the word, her eyes rolling back in her skull and her arms shaking as she tries to keep her pace. it's so hot, and you're so close, and she keeps fucking you even as her cum starts to leak out of you--

and then she tears her eyes open, gasps, and smashes her mouth against yours.

you fall apart, cumming and clencing sevika's sensitive cock hard. so hard, in fact, "oh, b-baby, i!" sevika collapses against you, her cock pulsing inside of you a few more times, and you gasp.

the moment you catch your breath, you burst into giggles.

"did you just cum again?" you ask. "twice in one minute, sev?!"

"fffuck offff." she mumbles against your tits.

"that.. was so hot." you say. she giggles now too.

"g'night."

"sevika." you tug her bun. "it's the middle of the day."

"i'm done. g'night."

"c'mon." you pout, gently tapping her cheek, trying to get her to open her eyes. "we'll have a warm shower and i'll make hot chocolate? with whiskey? we'll turn the phones off, okay? cuddle in bed a bit?" you bribe. she peeks one eye open.

"can i eat you out in bed?" she asks. you snort.

"i was thinking bed would be more like a nap, babe."

"mmm. can i eat you out in the shower?"

"you can eat me out after our nap."

"can i wake you up with it?" she asks, a sparkle in her eye. you roll your eyes.

"only if you actually let me sleep. and you try to sleep too, okay?" you ask. she nods. "one hour, at least." you demand. she pouts, but nods again, and you burst into laughter. "kiss." you voice your final demand. sevika grins, and leans in happily.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @love-sugarr @chuucanchuucan @222danielaa @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @leomatsuzaki @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @vikasub

[devastatinglygreen]

Why do you think they're waiting for the Lady Whistledown reveal?

aside from drama? and i mean that seriously. i know everyone had headcanons and wants for years here but they're building tension. there was no real tension in part one outside of sexual and the stakes need to be higher for the penultimate episode.

the next bit is spoilers we know have been pretty much seen by too many people for ep 5 at least so wander under the cut at your own risk:

i think, and i know a lot of people aren't going to be thrilled about colin not knowing before some things happen, that they need to do two things: solidify their relationship a bit and basically send penelope into a spiral to take the stakes higher.

they have plot armor, they're not going to behead penelope right there in the queen's garden with the peacocks once she gets caught. the only thing truly up for grabs is polin. and not even that, not really, but it's the thing the audience is going to care about.

the spoilers have penelope trying to tell him but failing because she keeps getting interrupted. every time she fails, the clock ticks further. it's a pressure build. eloise is on her back. colin is just wandering along, deliriously happy and penelope knows she's carrying this bomb she's gonna blow up in his face.

she lost eloise to it. colin is the love of her life. i think we can all do that math. she's so stressed out by eloise's timeline she can barely breathe and then comes cressida.

you've got cressida taking credit for LW, colin's happiness sitting on her shoulders (tho i do think it's also so smart of them to have him defend penelope to portia before he finds out, it might give him some insight to how penelope is treated and feels when the right time comes), eloise is assuming things and giving her hell.

i mean, wouldn't you be a mess too? like, give the girl some grace her entire life is imploding right after getting what she's always wanted and never thought she'd get and losing the two most important people in the world to her only a few months before. would you want to blow that up again? yes, yes, i'm sure everyone who says "but she has to!" is very morally outraged and perfectly righteous in their own lives scoffs at the idea that penelope might struggle with a secret she doesn't know what to do with.

it's not like we've never seen how that eats her up before, right? oh. we totally have. nvm.

anyways. cressida. i kind of hope it's the turning point for peneloise because i think even eloise knows she's not a good person to have in a position of power like that. say what you want but penelope doesn't lie in LW.

add in they seem to be bringing in book scenes and i'm going to guess colin catches her after she takes off to print something saying cressida is a whole ass lie. fight ensues. angst! stakes are ridiculously high. the wedding is planned. the pedestals are knocked over and now colin will know everything. does he love her after that? can he? does he trust her ever again? (clearly yes or they're gonna need to change up that family tree thing they released lol).

this will give way to colin having to come to terms with penelope's legacy and how it affects his own estimation of himself and his writing. jealousy like the book. it's a colin issue and he knows it but he still has to deal with it.

colin very much thinks penelope is his purpose, right? the book says it. LN said it about show colin. he's gotta reconcile that LW and penelope are two halves of the same person. he can't put them both in boxes.

anyways what i mean is that the stakes need to be high and her blurting it out then having 2.5 episodes of them moping around about their LW fight isn't really the thing that gets your heart racing when you've got 8 episodes to tell the whole story.

(also as an aside, i think it's going to lead to us getting second "firsts" in a way. it's not going to be a first kiss or anything but i feel like the energy of it all will be different and i, personally, think that could be very fun)

[estellan0vella]

Love In Print│Bang Chan

Chapter Eleven: There's Two Of You SS: 3 (ignore time stamps and dates) Word Count: 3.4K Content Warnings: vomit, sickness in general

Previous Next Masterlist

Chan steadies Ayame as she stumbles into her apartment, her keys clattering onto the floor before she manages to flick on the light. The space is warm and inviting despite its current occupant's state of utter disrepair. Ayame immediately kicks off her damp Converse, sending them skidding across the hardwood floor.

Chan closes the door behind them, locking it out of habit, his eyes scanning the apartment. It's cosy, with a small bookshelf crammed full of novels, a fluffy pink blanket draped over the couch, and his gaze halts on a shelf near the window, lined with an army of Smurf figurines. Chan blinks, then slowly walks toward them, the tiny plastic creatures staring back at him like a tiny blue jury.

"What the actual fuck?" he mutters, crouching slightly to get a closer look. "Is this-? Are these yours?"

Ayame groans, leaning heavily against the kitchen counter. "Why are you still here?" she asks, ignoring his question entirely.

Chan turns, an eyebrow raised. "Because you look like you're about two seconds away from passing out in your Smurf shrine. Did you really think I'd just leave you like this?"

"I'm fine," Ayame mutters, waving him off, but she suddenly freezes, her face paling dramatically. Her hand shoots to her mouth, and her eyes widen in panic.

"You're gonna puke, aren't you?"

Ayame nods frantically, unable to speak, and bolts toward the hallway. She barely makes it to the bathroom before she's retching into the toilet, her knees hitting the cold tile with a thud.

"Fucking hell," Chan murmurs, following her. He kneels behind her, pulling her coat off and tossing it onto a towel rack before gathering her hair into one hand. "There you go, just let it out."

Ayame groans between heaves, her voice shaky. "Oh, the humanity."

Chan snorts despite himself, shaking his head as he rubs gentle circles on her back. "You're making this way too dramatic. It's just puke."

She glares up at him weakly, her face damp with sweat, before another wave hits her, and she's back over the bowl. Chan winces at the sound but doesn't move, holding her hair tighter.

"You don't- You don't need me to run out for pregnancy tests or anything, do you?" he asks hesitantly, breaking the silence.

Ayame freezes mid-gag, her head jerking up to glare at him, her eyes blazing with indignation. "What the actual fuck did you just say?"

Chan shrugs, his expression sheepish but not backing down. "I mean, you've been acting weird lately, throwing up- I don't know. It's a possibility."

"Believe me," Ayame says, her voice raspy, "it's not. Plan B after every hookup and condoms galore. Stocked like a fucking pharmacy."

Chan whistles low, impressed despite himself. "Alright, alright. Noted. Definitely not pregnant."

Ayame groans again, the nausea doubling down as she slumps back over the toilet. Chan mutters something under his breath, his hand moving to press gently against her back.

"Jesus," he says, shaking his head as another retch echoes in the small bathroom. "How the fuck is your tiny body producing this much vomit?"

"Kill me," Ayame groans, her voice muffled as she leans her forehead against the cool porcelain. "Just fucking kill me."

Chan chuckles softly, reaching for a tissue from the counter. "Not today, shortcake," he says, his tone unusually soft. He dabs at her damp forehead with the tissue, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. "But keep this up, and I might reconsider."

Ayame manages a weak glare at him before another dry heave forces her back over the bowl. Chan exhales slowly, settling into a more comfortable kneeling position beside her.

"You're a fucking disaster, you know that?" he mutters, his voice carrying a strange mix of fondness and exasperation.

"Yeah," Ayame croaks, her voice hoarse. "But I'm your disaster right now."

Chan freezes for a split second, caught off guard by her words. Then his lips quirk up in the faintest smile, and he nods. "Yeah, you are."

The afternoon sun casts a warm glow over Ayame's living room, highlighting the oddly pristine display of Smurf figurines perched on a shelf. Chan stands in front of them, his arms crossed, his expression caught somewhere between disbelief and amusement. He tilts his head, squinting at a Smurf holding a book that seems slightly off-centre.

"Why the fuck does this one look like it's judging me?" he mutters, reaching out to adjust it. His hand hovers, but he quickly pulls back. "Not touching that. I don't need more bad juju today."

In the kitchen, the sound of Ayame rinsing her mouth in the sink echoes faintly. Her low grumbling is mostly drowned out by the running water, but Chan catches a few words. "Stomach flu... fucking gods... hate me."

She shuffles back into the living room, her Smurfette-patterned pyjama pants swishing against the hardwood floor. Her hair is a mess of loose waves, and her face is drawn, but she doesn't seem to care. Without a word, she trudges past him and flops onto her bed like a sack of potatoes, face-first into her comforter.

Chan follows her a few minutes later, knocking lightly on her doorframe. He leans against it, one eyebrow raised. "You alive in there?"

Ayame mumbles something unintelligible into her comforter. It might be a curse or a plea for death. Either way, it's enough for Chan to take as an invitation to enter.

He steps into the room, holding a digital thermometer like it's some kind of peace offering. "Alright, sit up. Time to see just how close you are to spontaneous combustion."

Ayame groans quietly, her voice muffled by the blanket. "Why are you still here? This is a violation of my privacy. I'm wearing my Smurfette pyjamas."

Chan smirks, stepping closer and shaking the thermometer at her. "And I'm sure they'd look great on a five-year-old. Now, stop whining and open your mouth."

She glares up at him but reluctantly pushes herself up, revealing the bright blue Smurfette print on her oversized pyjama top. Chan bites the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing as he steps closer.

"Say ahh," he instructs, slipping the thermometer into her mouth before she can argue. "And try not to talk, okay? I know that's asking a lot from you."

Ayame's glare intensifies, but with the thermometer lodged firmly under her tongue, all she can do is cross her arms and sulk.

The device beeps after a few moments, and Chan pulls it out, frowning slightly as he reads the number. "39.3," he says, holding it up for her to see. "Congrats. You're officially on fire."

Ayame squints at him, her voice hoarse. "So bad, right?"

"Not great," Chan replies, pressing a hand to her forehead for emphasis. "You're basically a walking fever right now."

She groans dramatically, sinking back into her pillows. "The thermometer's in on it. It's part of a conspiracy. They're all out to get me. My stomach, my fever, my bad luck..."

Chan chuckles softly, shaking his head as he gently adjusts the pillow behind her. "You're so full of shit. Just admit you're sick and let someone take care of you for once."

Ayame snorts weakly. "Says the guy who's basically an emotional brick wall."

Chan pauses, his smirk fading into something softer. "Touche," he mutters, straightening up. "Stay put. I'll grab you something for the fever."

Ayame curls back into her comforter burrito, peeking out just enough to watch him leave. "Don't fuck with my Smurfs," she calls after him, her voice muffled but firm.

"I wouldn't dare," Chan shoots back over his shoulder, his tone light but amused.

When he returns a few minutes later with a glass of water and fever meds, Ayame is still in full burrito mode. He sets the glass on her nightstand and nudges her shoulder lightly.

"Take these," he says, holding out the pills. "Before your brain starts melting out of your ears."

Ayame shifts just enough to grab the pills, popping them into her mouth and washing them down with a long sip of water. She hands the glass back, her eyes half-lidded. "Thanks."

Chan places the glass back on the nightstand, pulling the comforter up over her shoulders. "Get some sleep, shortcake."

Ayame's lips twitch at the nickname, but she doesn't fight it. "You're... not as annoying when I feel like shit," she mumbles.

Chan snorts softly, standing to leave. "I'll take that as a compliment."

As the door clicks shut behind him, Ayame stares at it, her fevered mind replaying the unexpected softness in his voice. For once, she doesn't argue with the silence.

The evening light filters dimly through Ayame's curtains, casting a warm haze over the room as she stirs. Her head pounds like a drum, and her throat feels like sandpaper. She groans softly, blinking through the blurriness, only to find two figures standing near her bed. One is Chan, his familiar broad shoulders silhouetted against the soft light. The other is someone else. Blonde, freckled, with a warm smile and eyes that look suspiciously similar to-

"Noooo," Ayame rasps, her voice scratchy and weak. She squints hard, her gaze darting between the two men. "There's two of you. Fucking great. This is it. I'm dead, aren't I? This is hell. I died, and hell is full of Bang Chans."

The blonde man chuckles, his voice a deep, soothing lilt that somehow puts her at ease. "Ayame?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm Felix," the man says, stepping closer. "I'm a doctor. How are you feeling?"

Ayame blinks slowly, trying to piece it together. "Not so good," she mumbles, her gaze flicking back to Chan, then to Felix, then back again. Her fever makes everything surreal, and she's convinced she's hallucinating.

"She's got a fever of 39.3," Chan says, arms crossed, his eyes flicking between Ayame and Felix. "She was puking earlier. Like everywhere, a lot"

"Real charmer," Ayame mutters, managing a weak glare at Chan. "Thank you for the update."

Felix steps forward, kneeling beside the bed with a calm professionalism that contrasts sharply with Ayame's delirium. "Alright, Ayame, let's sit you up. It'll be easier to check you over."

She lets him guide her, her body heavy and limp as she leans against his sturdy hands. The cool touch of his fingers on her neck, as he checks her glands, makes her flinch slightly, but she's distracted by the freckles dusting his nose and cheeks.

"You're handsome," Ayame blurts, her words slurring slightly. "And pretty. Handsome and pretty."

Felix laughs softly, his dimples deepening as he glances up at her. "Thanks. You're not so bad yourself, though you do look like you've been through hell."

"Fair," Ayame mumbles, blinking sleepily. "But still. Very handsome"

Felix raises an eyebrow, glancing at Chan. "Thank you but people always say Chris is the handsome one"

"Eugh," Ayame mutters, her gaze flicking to Chan, who looks somewhere between amused and exasperated. "So, you're his brother? You must've wanted to beat him up so bad when you were kids."

Felix smirks, leaning back on his heels. "Oh, plenty of times. He's always been a pain in the ass."

"Rude," Chan mutters, his arms crossing tighter over his chest.

Ayame's fevered brain latches onto the moment, and her eyes light up. "Tell me embarrassing things. I need dirt. Spill it."

Felix hums, clearly enjoying this. "Let's see- Oh! He used to dress up like a dog."

Ayame's face lights up in incredulous delight. "No way."

Felix nods solemnly, his freckled cheeks dimpling as his grin widens. "Yep. Made our mother walk him around the neighbourhood on a leash."

"What the actual fuck?" Ayame wheezes, her laughter bursting out in a series of choked giggles. "Chan, no!"

Chan groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I was a kid. Kids do dumb shit."

Felix doesn't let up. "He was twelve."

Ayame gasps dramatically, clutching at her chest as if the revelation physically pains her. "Twelve? Oh, no. That's too old. Chan, that's so bad."

"I regret everything," Chan mutters, shooting Felix a withering look. "Can we wrap this up, Doctor? She needs rest."

Felix chuckles, patting Ayame's shoulder gently. "Feel better, Ayame."

Ayame waves weakly, her hand flopping like a dead fish as she leans back into her pillows. "This is officially the best day of my life."

Felix gives her a cheeky wink before standing and heading toward the door. Chan follows, muttering under his breath about regretting ever making the call. As they leave, Ayame grabs a hefty Smurf plush from her bed, clutching it tightly against her chest.

"Best day ever," she mumbles to herself, her laughter trailing off as she drifts back into fevered sleep.

The muted light above the small kitchen table casts a soft glow, reflecting faintly off the scratched surface of the wood. Felix scribbles something on a prescription pad, his pen moving quickly but quietly.

The faint sound of Ayame's steady breathing filters in from her room, the only other noise in the still apartment. Chan sits across from Felix, his chair angled slightly away, his arms crossed over his chest as he stares blankly at the far wall.

"You did all the right things," Felix says without looking up, his tone casual but firm.

Chan's eyes snap to Felix, his brows knitting together. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Felix finally glances up, his freckled face calm but tinged with amusement. "It means you didn't fuck up. Bringing her home, making sure she didn't pass out or drown in a pile of her own puke, you did good."

Chan snorts, leaning further back in his chair. "Thanks for the glowing review, Dr. Bang. Really warms my heart."

"Don't be a dick," Felix says with a smirk, tearing off the prescription slip and folding it neatly. "I'm trying to give you credit for once."

"High praise coming from you,"

Felix leans back in his chair, crossing his arms. "Don't make me regret it."

They lapse into silence for a moment, the tension between them not unpleasant but thick with unspoken words. Felix taps the folded prescription against the table before clearing his throat.

"So," he says, his tone carefully neutral. "You ever gonna RSVP?"

Chan freezes, his brows furrowing. "What?"

Felix arches a brow, his freckled face the picture of nonchalance. "You know. My wedding? Soojin's about to kill me over the final guest count. Any chance you're planning to let us know whether you're coming, or are you just going to show up unannounced like a dramatic bastard?"

Chan sighs heavily, his fingers running through his hair as he slouches further into his chair. "I've been busy. Work's a fucking nightmare right now."

"Bullshit," Felix says lightly, his tone teasing but firm. "You've RSVP'd to weddings before while being busy. What's the deal?"

Chan avoids Felix's gaze, his fingers drumming on the table. "It's awkward."

Felix stares at him, unblinking. "Why? Because of Dad? Or because you'll have to interact with me for more than five minutes at a time?"

Chan lets out a bitter laugh. "Both?"

Felix leans forward, planting his elbows on the table as his voice softens. "I'm your brother, Chris. You're not getting out of this one. I want you there."

Chan exhales sharply, finally meeting Felix's gaze. "I'll think about it."

Felix doesn't push. Instead, he tilts his head toward Ayame's room, a small grin tugging at the corners of his lips. "Bring her. She'd make it interesting."

Chan huffs out a laugh, shaking his head. "Yeah, that's all we need, Ayame at a family wedding. She'd spend the whole time taking bets on whether Dad and I would kill each other before dessert."

Felix chuckles, grabbing his bag and standing. "Wouldn't that be entertaining, though? She seems like she'd handle it better than most."

"She'd probably bet on me," Chan mutters, standing as well and following Felix to the door.

Felix pats him on the shoulder, his grin softening. "Just think about it, okay? I want you there."

Chan nods, his voice quieter now. "I know. Thanks for coming over, Lix."

"Anytime," Felix says, his tone warm. He pulls open the door and steps into the hallway, throwing a cheeky grin over his shoulder. "Take care of your Smurf-loving friend."

Chan watches him disappear, the sound of Felix's footsteps fading into the distance. For a moment, he stands there, staring at the empty hallway, before shutting the door with a soft click.

Chan steps quietly into Ayame's room, a glass of water in one hand and a washcloth in the other. The muted glow from her bedside lamp casts soft shadows across the walls. Ayame stirs, her eyes fluttering open as he sits on the edge of her bed.

"Hey," Chan says softly, holding out the glass. "Drink this."

Ayame groans, propping herself up on one elbow. Her movements are sluggish, her face pale and her hair sticking out at odd angles. She accepts the glass with trembling hands, her fingers brushing his briefly. She takes a tentative sip, grimacing. "Not strawberry juice."

Chan raises an eyebrow. "What?"

"My eomma used to give me strawberry juice when I was sick," she rasps, her voice scratchy. "What did yours do?"

His expression shifts slightly, an unreadable mix of nostalgia and something darker. "They were always too busy treating other people. If I wasn't in cardiac arrest, I was fine."

Ayame tilts her head, studying him with bleary eyes. "Is your whole family doctors?"

"Surgeons," Chan corrects, his voice flat but not unkind. "Except me."

She blinks slowly, her gaze softening as a faint smile tugs at her lips. "Has anyone ever told you that you kinda look like a wolf? WolfChan. That's your new nickname now. I'm a genius."

Chan huffs out a laugh, shaking his head. "You're delirious."

"Maybe," Ayame mumbles, a teasing lilt in her voice. She gestures weakly at him with the glass. "But you should stop calling me 'shortcake.'"

Chan leans back slightly, crossing his arms. "Not a chance. Watching you pretend to hate that nickname is the best part of my day."

Ayame's cheeks flush faintly, though whether it's from her fever or his words is unclear. "You changed your shirt,"

Chan glances down, as if only just realizing. "Felix bought it for me. You puked on the other one."

Ayame's face scrunches up in embarrassment, and she lets out a muffled groan. "I did do that."

"You did," Chan confirms, a small smirk playing on his lips. "But I've been through worse."

She stares at him for a long moment, her fevered mind latching onto random details. "Dove grey, white, powder blue, windowpane, true blue."

Chan frowns slightly. "What are you on about?"

"Your shirts," Ayame murmurs, her voice growing softer. "Always in the same order."

He chuckles, the sound low and warm. "Guess I'm predictable."

Ayame's lips curve into a faint smirk. "You only surprised me once."

That catches his attention. He leans in slightly, his tone curious. "When?"

"The elevator," she whispers, her eyes half-lidded. Despite her exhaustion, there's a glimmer of mischief in her gaze.

Chan's expression shifts, the teasing smirk giving way to something more serious. "What did you think about that?"

Ayame's smirk grows. "I thought it was really hot." She leans back into her pillows, clutching the blanket tighter around herself. "Minho had to baptize and sage me after to exorcise the demon that is you."

Chan laughs, the sound soft but genuine. "Minho's dramatic as hell."

"Welcome to my life," Ayame mutters, her voice trailing off.

Chan watches her for a long moment, his dark eyes lingering on her flushed face and the slight curve of her lips. The tension between them is almost tangible, thick enough to cut through the fever-induced haze clouding Ayame's mind.

"Are we playing a staring game now?" she whispers, her voice barely audible.

Chan leans forward slightly, his voice dropping to a teasing murmur. "It's my favourite game."

Ayame blinks slowly, her fever-bright eyes locking onto his. "I like the way you look at me," she mumbles, her words slurring as her eyelids droop further.

Chan's smile softens, his hand reaching out to gently rub her shoulder. "Get some rest, shortcake."

She hums in response, her grip tightening on the Hefty Smurf plush she clutches to her chest. Chan stays for a moment longer, his gaze fixed on her as her breathing evens out and her features relax into sleep. He exhales quietly, standing and pulling the blanket up to her chin before switching off the bedside lamp.

As he steps out of the room, closing the door softly behind him, his mind is anything but quiet.

(39.3 degrees celcius = 102.8 degrees farenheit)

Taglist: @fackeraccount @ot8girlfie @nightmarenyxx @reimaybeidk

@ismelllikechlorine247 @drewsandsebastianswife @my-neurodivergent-world @rhonnie23 @hanji-coffee

@skzleeknowcore

[vase-of-lilies]

So for tiny vurse what if both nat and wanda have an emergency having to leave tiny alone but then enter aggitha and she whispers through the wind and lures you out because she's still mad at wanda then wanda and nat come home check your room and your gone but they find a trail of crumbs because we found the cookies and finds us in a cabin souronded by 3d print animals dancing with magic and agitha keeps us in like a dream like state that we don't see are mommies or hear them. Add what you want I just think it would be funny as I'm looking at my 3d printed dragon.

The Trap

Paring: Mommy!Wanda Maximoff x Little!Reader (f) x Mama!Natasha Romanoff (Featuring Agatha Harkness)

Warnings: Heavy MD/LG, Agatha luring away reader, magic, tiny has to be alone:( forest, being kidnapped from your kidnappers, this is a dark AU in general so beware, threats of falling off a cliff, hallucinations

A/n: I love this request! Thank you for sending it in 🥺 (I also have always wanted to 3D print something but I don't know where to find a printer 😭 my local library doesn't have one either:( ) But I hope you like this!! I feel kinda bad making it angsty at the end lol but I thought this could be like Anistaisia's dream (If you have seen the movie!!)

"Baby, I'm so sorry we have to go, but we will be back so soon, ok? Can you promise us that you'll be good?" Wanda and Natasha are rushed to get out the door, an emergency mission involving Ultron threatening the existence of humanity.

You nod as you hold your lion in your hands, tears forming in your eyes as you think of not being with your mommies for a little while. Pretty soon after they leave, your bigger headspace might show itself again, but you know better than to escape. And as you stare at your mommies gathering everything they need, you start to feel a sensation of abandonment.

Wanda immediately takes notice of this and kneels down in front of your spot on the couch. Grabbing a hold of your hands she squeezes them gently. "Hey, little one... it's going to be ok. You are gonna have so much fun with Leo here and then after you lay down for your nap, we'll be back in a blink of an eye," She says with a smile, kissing the backs of your hands.

Nat sighs as she sees you on the couch and frowns at your tears. She joins Wanda and sits beside you, wrapping her arm around you softly. "I promise, sweetheart, we'll be back so soon." She whispers, kissing your head. You nod at their reassuring words and lay down on the pillow they set up for your nap on the couch.

Hugging your lion tightly, you wave to them as Wanda and Nat go out the front door, the two women waving back.

The soft music coming from the TV plays and you watch the ocean waves beating against the sand on the screen. It lulls you to sleep almost as fast as hearing your Mommy's lullaby sung to you.

Not far into your nap you heard a soft whisper, causing you to sit up slowly. You yawn and rub your hands over your eyes, getting the sleepers and crusties off of your skin. You look around confused as to where this soft whisper could be coming from, remembering that your caregivers had to leave for a mission.

Your eyes looked around the room, looking for that voice however, your mind was pulled in a different direction when you saw a small bag of Wanda's famous cookies! Hopping off of the couch, you wander over to the counter where there is a note.

'Be good, Tiny, we're always watching over you ❤️ Love, Mommy and Mama.'

Their note made you smile but you were yet again distracted by that soft whisper in your ear. Your head snapped to the sliding back door that had miraculously opened on its own. Curiosity took over your head like a trance, or maybe it really was a trance...

Absentmindedly, you take a bite of a cookie, some crumbs tumbling down your shirt and onto the floor. Your eyes widen as a purple tendril of energy presents itself in the door, and the whisper is louder than ever, luring you outside of your humble abode.

As you follow the mist, you continue to nibble on the cookies your mommy left for you, dropping a pathway of crumbs on the way to the gate at the edge of the backyard. This gate was connected to the fence, and the mysterious purple energy quickly opened it. The hinges squeaked with every inch it opened and you were taken aback by a small group of animals, a purple glow around them as they danced down a dirt path into the woods.

You continued to eat your cookies, some chocolate chips falling on the soil beneath you as you explored deeper into the forest.

"Just a little further, sweet girl..." The whisper coaxes you, your aura turning a bright purple as you fall further under the spell of Wanda and Natasha's enemy; Agatha.

Your mind was a haze once you got to an imaginary home in the middle of a grove of trees, the animals jumping and dancing around you as you sat down on a rock. What you didn't realize, was in reality you were nowhere near a grove of trees, you were on the edge of a cliff. At the bottom of the cliff was a collection of sharp, jagged rocks. Agatha had manipulated your mind to see something different.

She had the intention to take what mattered the most to the two women she hated.

The rock you were sitting on was at the very edge of the cliff and was only a couple feet (or meters for you non-Americans). If you walked any further, you would fall to your death and not even know it.

On the mission, Wanda could feel something was wrong and once they were finished with Ultron, they raced back home to see if you were safe. When you were not on the couch, in your bed, or in your playroom, they panicked. Nat ran to the security room and rewound all the tapes. Her eyes narrowed as she saw you leave through the backdoor, but she still could feel something was wrong. The door had opened by itself... she didn't leave willingly. She thought.

"Nat! Nat, let's go! I know where she is!!" Wanda shouted from the kitchen where the backdoor was. Her wife ran to her, gun in hand and spider bites ready in her other. "Look, she left crumbs." Wanda pointed to the ground, the pathway of cookie crumbs leading to the gate.

The two women ran as fast as they could, following your trail of crumbs all the way to where you were. As they saw you, Wanda gasped and tears filled her eyes as she saw you so close to the edge of the cliff. She saw the purple around you and growled to herself. "Agatha... you bitch,"

Nat looked over at her, knowing not to move if Agatha was near. She is powerful, but Wanda is more so. All three of them knew that, yet Agatha still tried.

Looking around the trees, Nat sees the witch perched on a branch, purple whisps of magic moving about her fingers. Wanda is nudged by her wife and she looks in the same direction, glaring at the woman. Before anything worse can happen to you in your dream state, Natasha pulls her grappling string from her belt and shoots it towards you, the chord wrapping around your waist to hold you away from the cliff.

Agatha notices the sudden lack of movement from you, frowning as you don't move forward with the animals as they hover in mid-air above the drop. She looks around to see what could be stopping you and meets the glowing red eyes of Wanda on the ground.

"Ah, so you do care about your little bunny..." Agatha says, floating down from her spot in the tree above. She lands between you and your mommies, sparking even more rage in Wanda. A large red burst of energy forces Agatha into a tree trunk, blood flowing from her head as she stands up.

"Oh, you are angry," The witch notes, smirking as Wanda walks towards her. The two sorceresses face each other, distracting Agatha enough for Natasha to run to you. Her soft kisses to your forehead and arms around you weren't enough to pull you from the trance you were in, but Wanda could help with that.

"First, you mess with my family in Westview, then you mess with my wedding, now you mess with my girl? It ends now, Agatha, you are dead to me and will be for everyone!" Wanda shouts, her magic pushing her up to float above Agatha, who is much too weak to fight back.

Natasha pulls you to a safe spot, your whimpers making her frown as she sees you reach for the imaginary animals that were luring you to your death. She holds you to her chest so you aren't able to see Wanda and Agatha and prays that once Wanda is done, you will be back to normal in no time.

The scarlet witch forced all of her energy onto Agatha, not killing her, just transferring her to a place where everyone would be safe from her. The Raft. She knew that the guards there dealt with her first, so they knew exactly what to do once Agatha arrived there.

Finally, your mommy floats to the ground, taking a deep breath as she regains her energy. Her head turns towards you and Nat, both looking back at her. Quickly she makes her way to you and kneels down to you as you sit in Nat's lap, holding onto her and your lion. With a small push of red magic to your head, your trance is pulled away from your mind and your eyes snap back to reality.

Looking at your surroundings, you realize it is not the same thing that you saw while under Agatha's power and you whimper. "Where a' I?" You ask in a small voice, trying to make sense of what happened. "Where da animals?"

Wanda sighs and holds your hand, "Oh baby, it's ok, you're safe now. You must have wandered off while you were sleeping," She chuckles softly, trying to distract your thoughts from becoming irrational. With Natasha smoothing her hand over your head, you are slowly pushed back into sleep.

"Mama n' mommy home..." You whisper tiredly, a sloppy smile on your face as your hands move up to gently cup Wandas. Your mommies smile at you and carry you back to the cabin, making sure to tuck you in with your little lion by your side.

After wiping off the crumbs from your front, Wanda smiles and whispers to you, "I'm glad you liked the cookies, little one."

And with a kiss to your forehead, you sleep peacefully in between your loving mommies.

[nitewrighter]

Hi, I’m studying to get my associates in library tech with the goal of becoming a children’s librarian. Is there anything that you wish you knew before becoming a librarian?

Well it's tough to say for sure because I had been working as a library assistant for a long time before I got my master's, so I actually did have a lot of 'on the ground' experience in libraries, albeit in a very immediate, lower-skilled customer service sense.

I would say, on a "librarian as a whole" level, try to get as much hands-on experience in programming development and assisting with programming as you can--a major part of advancing your career as a librarian (at least as a public librarian) is being able to plan and implement programming, and also evaluate the success of that programming, and while I got a lot of experience with that in theory in Library school, it wasn't something I really bothered with as a library assistant because I felt too intimidated by it and I felt it "wasn't my place"--even though it's absolutely something I'd have to do as a librarian. And it's something they ask you about at EVERY interview for Librarian positions! If I could go back in time, I'd go back to 2018 and thwack myself with a newspaper to tell me to elbow my way into more programming development--because there ARE openings for it! Libraries ARE always looking for fresh ideas for programming, and one day, I WILL get my Makerspace Cosplay Workshop For Teens idea launched, goddammit!!

On a more "Children's Librarian Specific" level, I realize I talk a lot on this blog about like... the basic thesis that Children Are Indeed People. And I realize in that last ask I got that I was complaining a lot about parents basically using library space as a space to shut down and recover--often at the expense of the space, or sometimes even at the risk of their children. But I do think in terms of like... practicality, respect, and humility, that you as a librarian have to acknowledge that these parents are caring for their kids 24/7 and a lot of the time, for all your dreams of "Youth Liberation!!!" they will, generally, know their kids' triggers and patterns of behavior better than you, Cool Youth Liberator Librarian, ever will. I'm gonna use an example I call the "Give a Mouse a Cookie" story:

So we have coloring sheets and crayons at our children's desk, right? And this little girl comes up to the desk asking for a coloring sheet and I'm like, "oh, okay, we have a puppy coloring sheet?" and she's like, "No, I want the kitty." And her parents are going, "Sweetie, just get the puppy, we need to leave," and I'm like, "Oh, I can just print out some kitty coloring sheets. It's not a big deal. It looks like we're running low anyways." So I print out a bunch of kitty coloring sheets, hand her the first warm-out-of-the-printer kitty, and she starts melting down, because it wasn't just a kitty coloring sheet she wanted, it was a Unicorn Kitty Coloring sheet (except she's like 4 or 5 so it's not really fair to act like she could articulate that), and this is where the story gets stupid, because I'm like, "Oh. Here." and I draw a unicorn horn on the kitty--and like, I need you to understand that this is me going off of babysitting experience where I'm used to little kids being psyched at me drawing something especially for them. And this would provide an immediate 15 second solution rather than however long it would take me to track down the unicorn kitty coloring sheet she wanted through our coloring sheet database and then send that to the printer. And like, I know how to draw a horn so that it meshes decently enough with the coloring sheet's art style. LIKE IT MESHED WITH THE PERSPECTIVE OF THE CAT'S HEAD. But still, the meltdown intensifies because that's not the unicorn cat that other kids were coloring. How dare I slap a horn on this regular-ass cat and try to tell her it's a unicorn cat?!?!? So finally her parents just go, "She needs a nap" and drag her off. I told this story to my brother and he went, "Oh yeah. You gave a mouse a cookie."

Like, yeah, there is something very rewarding in validating a kid's desires and meeting their needs just like you would any adult patron. I love that little flare of 'Yes! I did the thing! I asked the lady where the InvestiGators books were, and she showed me!" I love seeing kids light up when you take them to the nonfiction section they ask for and then you help them leaf through it for the right book for their desired content and reading level, but also... sometimes it's not about the unicorn kitty, and you have to be able to trust when the parents are picking up on that and be able to put up a united front. It's kind of like when you start getting caught up in your own anger, and you have to ask yourself, "Am I letting this burn out, or am I adding oxygen to the fire?" There is so much going on under the hood with kids! So much is happening! Developing brains and very little experience are a helluva drug! You do want to fight for and encourage the kid's agency and value when you can, but also they're part of a family! And families have their own unique dynamics and needs! Growing up and having to negotiate your wants and needs with everyone around you is a trauma in and of itself!

[weshney]

DP Writing Prompt

Lich King AU

Imagine, if you will, a grand, witchcraftian circle carved into the floor of a dungeon, toxic green light crisscrossing in precise geometric patterns and inlayed with delicate, looping symbols. The air is damp and cold, the atmosphere murky and dim. A team of heros approach an alter wafting fetid smells, its top and sides dripped in flaking, dried blood. Rotting corpses shamble in from the shadows, a glowing skeleton or two quick to dart in for a strike as screams echo from a back room. A heavy door slams shut with a thunderous weight, and the shrieks abruptly cutting off. The rattling, raspy sound of worn burlap and bare feet drag lurchingly across aged stone, heralding the approach of a single mummified beast trolling a dirty, half-concious human behind. The heros surge forward, frantically trying to intervene as the teenage girl is dropped with a sickening crunch onto the raised, bloodied quart. Thinking fast, one of the heroes blasts the floor, breaking the circle. The viridecent hue that illuminates the lines fades out.

Only...the summoning continues.

And the undead start to panic.

But how?! The circle was broken! And what could make such horrifying monsters so terrified?! Was the worst yet to come? Had they royally fucked things up by destroying the circle?

"Funny you should think that. You might not have royally fucked things up," a haunting chuckle echoes about the chamber as the newly arrived Lich King taps his skeletal crown, "but I'm about to."

A smile straight from Uncanny Valley splits his lips.

Then, eyes of green coal pan across the room's occupants, instantly spotting the primed sacrifice splayed limp and ragged-breath over the alter.

The king bares his fangs and the grotesque creature that towers over her takes a half step back. Then frost creeps like timelapsed vines over stone and it quivers. One heartbeat. Two. Its composure shatters, and it pivots, sending a thick-ended saber clattering to the floor as it lunges into a four-legged sprint toward the back room.

The clawed skitters only barely just begin their scritchy click-click-click-clacks when all hell breaks loose.

Turns out, that wasn't a summoning circle. It was a warding circle. Those undead? Yeah; they weren't trying to call their king to battle. They were trying their best to keep him out. Because they knew, if he got in, he was gonna beat aaaall their asses.

(Because it fits the vibes so well and I'm still wowed by this artwork years after I first saw it, make sure to reblog @pengold 's Drow Warlock Danny!)

My take on the idea that it'd be kinda fun to see Ghost King Danny begrudgingly find out he also rules the undead. He just gets stuck with a bunch of rotting, smelly, evil subjects that he's just disgusted by and can't get rid of. And to make matters worse, they are constantly doing vile things in his name that he has to put a stop to. As far as humans know, he's all about accepting sacrifices, spreading plagues, and destroy life in general, all because of some goddamn fine print and a horde of asshole servants.

[princess-of-the-corner]

God I forgot about Qilin. Cool asfk akuma, arguably one of Gabes best designs, dragged down by the fucking ticket inspection and bringing in the goddamn army. (As well as how the episode felt like it was written avid ACAB Enthusiasts)

my problem with the episode is that it's a bit all over the place in a few spots like.

Firstly take this with a grain of salt because I'm white af

Okay. This is supposed to be an episode about racism and the cops being harder on minorities. But it doesn't.... come across that?

The ticket inspector was initially doing his job. Sabine didn't have a bus ticket. Yes it's because Mari got off the previous stop with the tickets, but if he handwaved everyone who said 'oh I totally bought a ticket but I lost it'.......

Now he does get unreasonable after that, accusing her of being hostile, having her arrested instead of just printing a ticket, etc. But this is also a show where the 'you seem to have broken a law so you immediately get arrested' is not out of place. (I mean sometimes it is BUT it's a 'what works for the story' thing). Doubly so as the target audience is children who sometimes do think 'oh god oh god I sneaked one extra candy they're gonna send a full swat team and arrest me and I'm gonna go to jail!!'.

Then you have the whole thing of literally all the cops showing up for one lady and then the Akuma and then the cops ignoring LB and CN in favor of blasting the Akuma with weaponry despite months of the Heroes handling this on their own. Which at first seems out of place until you remember episodes like Rogercop where all the cops weren't mind controlled they just went 'yeah I guess the obviously Akumatized(controlled by supervillain) cop in a mech suit is in charge because the mayor, who he kidnapped, said so. Time to arrest the Heroes!!". So while it hasn't happened in a while, cops just acting Like That™ aren't out of place in this world.

And like. The ticket inspector is a rando who is only seen here going against Sabine, but we have no idea how he'd act with a white guy breaking the same law. And Roger has been shown to be corrupt as hell toward white people(specifically the Couffaines who as far as we know are white). So it doesn't quite get the message across that this is out of the norm.

Then you have Marinette having to apologize to the ticket inspector who, at this point, is now much more reasonable of 'well she did technically break the law by riding the bus without ticket or ID, but given the circumstances we'll let it go' but Mari insists on paying the fine like he was in the right.

Honestly I feel like this episode suffers from not being direct about what the issue is. Yes it's implied that it's a racism thing, yes most of the audience including the kids will probably pick it up. But when you give that much wiggle room on 'what is motivating this character's actions', then combine it both with stuff that's /supposed/ to be extreme but is par for the course in the series and the protagonist apologizing to the guy who instigated all of this.... it gets very mixed and it can get lost and make people who do see the allegories wonder if they're just reading too much into things.

And I don't know exactly where to place the blame on. Did the writers pull back to try and make the situation more 'relatable to everyone' thus making it relate to no one? Was it a bigger thing of the studio or S&P saying 'hey you can't depict real racism in a kids' show'?

I mean either way there's some blame on the writers for the other flaws like Mari apologizing and undercutting anything the ticket inspector did wrong. But still.

[einsatzzz]

For the weirdly specific artist ask game, can you answer 3, 4, and 14 ❤️

Heewwwooo Butter!!! Thank you for sending this, yipeee!!! 🥳🥳💖✨ I rambled too much with #3 (What ideas come from when you were little), I'm putting it last.

4. Fav character/subject that's a bitch to draw

I already answered this here, but I'll give you another. Lum/ine, Ae/ther, Ei, Xi/ao, Wan/derer and any of my other faves from any Mi/hoyo game that I play, because goddamn! Just look at their outfits! Back when I was still drawing fanarts for Gen/shin, I will die every time just from drawing the details of their clothing. But I was too down horrendous for Lu/mine to just give up on drawing her. So when I switched to drawing Sp/yFam fanarts right after, my art braincells are just "Thank God, this evil Gen/shin obsession has been defeated".

Not gonna lie, with them releasing Oro/ron and Sun/day so close to each other, I'm starting to feel the urge to draw them again...wtf djfbjsd Anyway, if anyone drawing Gen/shin fanart (specifically) comes across this by any chance, here's a lifesaver reference site that I used for their outfits. It made the experience slightly less painful.

14. Any favorite motifs

Motifs where there are opposites of light/darkness and sun/moon, but not exactly presented in a black/white way where you know from a glance which is the absolute good and which is the absolute evil. It's more of like ying yang, where there's "complementary and at the same time opposing forces" or that "in kindness, there's evil; in evil, there's kindness". I believe the gray blur where each of these sides converge is the best place ever to explore in fiction.

3. What ideas come from when you were little

The concept itself of making a comic! When I was around...I guess around 4th to 5th grade? Around ten years old or less? I remember drawing this comic of an original story I had back then. I think the setting is something like a historical drama in Ko/rea.

That's because even in the late 2000's and early 2010s, kd/ramas were popping off so hard in PH, almost every adult I knew were watching them. It would always play in the background whenever I'm doing homework or when my mother is tutoring me. The titles I can remember were Je/wel in the Pa/lace and Queen Se/ondok (<-OK I GOTTA CONFESS THIS ONE CHANGED MY BRAIN CHEMISTRY).

Anyway, my younger self got so into this original comic story, I probably ended up drawing up to like half a ream of papers? sdjfbjshvfshd It's all traditional drawings with short bond papers with just a shitty ballpoint black pen. I was ten years old(?), so it definitely looked not so good. It's a secret project so I'm the only one who knows about it and I also hid it under our cabinet like it's some lemon fanfic hahaha (it's more action, tragedy with a bit of romance) I think it's because of that bit of romance that I hid it out of embarrassment, also the papers were actually supposed to be for when we need to print something for school projects, so I think I thought I was gonna get scolded for "wasting" them. I'm not about risk myself getting whooped with either a slipper, belt or broom bro 💀💀💀

I think what happened after that is for when your art perception improves but ur art skills can't catch-up, so I kind of had an art block and wasn't satisfied with it anymore. Then I ripped the pages and threw the entire thing away dsjvfhdsfvshdf 🗿🗿🗿🗿🗿 I wish I didn't 🗿🗿🗿🗿🗿 I have no start point to compare my current art with anymore and I can't even remember the story or the OCs that I had in there anymore.

Anyway, I'm making up for it now by making comics seriously fr fr and I won't be deleting it even if a ten-wheeler art block truck hits me and runs me over.

This question made me look through the oldest fandom account I can remember, for possible old arts and it's actually so funny/embarrassing how passive-aggressive 14 year old me is. Someone commented "I don't like this ship! This character is only mine!" on a rarepair ship fanart I showed to the group and 14-year old me replied "I understand your feelings, but you're not his only fan so keep that to yourself next time ^_^" ajvfsghdcghsdcds other interactions are also full of haterism energy it makes me go GHURL STOP!!! 😭😭😭😭 THAT'S SO MEAN!!! This 14 year old is a wholeass different person, who does this bitch think they are?!