#but i've been thinking about it a lot with what i'm writing now too

[firewasabeast]

Buck starts taking flowers to Bobby's gravesite every week. He fills him in on the things happening at work. Tells him about his life, along with everyone else's. He even writes down little moments where he would have asked for Bobby's advice, then he tells Bobby what he did and hopes it was the right thing.

Tommy goes with him sometimes. He'll sit at the little bench that's been placed by Bobby's headstone. He either holds Buck's hand, or he'll keep an arm on his back. He stays quiet, mostly. Let's Buck talk and keeps him company while he does it.

One day though, Tommy shows up alone. The weather is cold and still. A wind chime in a nearby tree, usually breaking the silence with its clinking song, doesn't move in the slightest. He places his hands in his jacket pockets and stares down at the engraved words on the headstone. The final paragraph of A Fireman's Prayer: If according to your will, I should lose my life, please bless with your protecting hand, my children and my wife.

Tommy takes a deep breath, and pulls a ring box out of his pocket. "I've talked to Maddie already, but I think it's only fair I come to you too," he starts. "I just wanted you to know that I'm going to ask Evan to marry me. I've been thinking about it for a long time and I... well, I've never been more sure of anything in my life."

He smiles as he stares down at the box. Opens it up to get a glimpse of the ring. "I'll take care of him," he promises. "I know he'll take care of me too. I think- No, I know a lot of who he is now is thanks to you. I'm, um, I'm sure he'll come and tell you all about it after the proposal, so if you could pretend like you don't know, that'd be great," he says, huffing out a laugh. "I think he'll say yes. We've been living together for six months now so I... I think he'll say yes."

Tommy sighs. He closes the ring box and puts it back in his pocket. "I just wanted to let you know. And I wanted to thank you, for all you've done. Not just for Evan, but for me too. Thank you."

As he turns to walk away, the wind chime starts to sing.

[shanastoryteller]

this is NOT a request for u to hurry finishing up the new chapter for siat (bc people who do that are ungrateful brats) but a genuine question. Do you feel even less drawn to it right now (spn brain aside) because of what JKR has done to English politics and the lives of trans women? Because I think it would be completely understandable if you felt this was ur final straw to not finish it but I would also get the opposite of it being ‘now there’s even more reason to finish it’ I think both viewpoints are valid and have their reasonings and this is really truly not in any way meant to be a “why isn’t there a new chapter yet!!:(((“ ask I’m just curious what HP fanfic writers (especially someone as well known as you) make of this as I keep seeing posts going around of the “if u still read/write HP fanfic you’re a terf too” variety and I just…disagree with that but also see where they come from (aka helping the fandom stay relevant. But even if we all quit reading and writing fanfic, HP would still be popular and imo the dent fanfic makes isn’t that big in the fandom bc locals still love HP and most people who now read fanfic hate JKR and wouldn’t actually read her books/buy merch)

Regardless of what you decide, know your Audience is behind you,100%. Hell, you dragged most of us (me included) back into Supernatural. I’m excited for the new chapter of tgp!! 💖💖

Thank you for all your words, whatever fandom they may come in (I.e I found you years ago because of your teen wolf fic specifically embers embers but stayed through so many fandoms and even read some I know nothing about) you are a beacon of light in this world and I treasure each of your works truly and with all my heart

thank you, this is a really sweet and nice way of asking, i'm so glad you enjoy my writing <3

but honestly: nah lol

jkr is shit and so are all of her opinions. the influence she has on government sucks and i personally think it's best to avoid giving her money, but i'm not pocketwatching other people

siat, which is a very popular hp fic, is 8 years old and has 2.8 million hits

in 2023 alone, 9.6 million people visited universal studios hollywood, the home of the wizarding world of harry potter

people should engage with media in whatever manner they feel most comfortable and sparks the most joy. but the idea that fanfic is a significant contributor to the cultural zeitgeist is just stupid

siat's on the to do list, i've just been infected with spn brainworms and wbt is also on the list but i feel more compelled to work on that one than siat just because huge chunks of it are already written so it seems a little silly to drag my feet as much as i have, plus at the time it had been a year since i posted the first chapter and i was like. ok come on let's go this is getting ridiculous

it's a goal to get back into a regular update cadence with siat. i'm not tired of it, i don't hate it, i still have an outline and know we're i'm going

it's partially that we're in sort of a tricky part to write, since it's about when a bunch of threads are about to come together and i don't want to fuck it up, and also that demands for updates honest to god really do kill my motivation to work on it. it's not punishment, i'm not trying to be a bitch, but i love the story and want to love sharing it with you, but being treated like a dispenser of fic, or like i owe people something and i'm somehow being selfish or inconsiderate by having fun writing what i want to write, really honestly just kills that. i don't want to write with that in the back of my head

people ask me about siat updates a lot. i don't post anything close to all of them. and if it was just "love the story can't wait to see what happens next!" that wouldn't be a problem, that's nice, i like that people are engaged and interested in what's to come

but a litany of "when will this update?" "is this abandoned?" "what about siat :(" "i don't care about x, why aren't you working on siat?" "you haven't updated siat in a while..." "why haven't you updated siat?" just makes me feel kinda bitter. which isn't a place i want to write from

it will be updated. i probably won't write the next chapter straight through and will alternate with tgp or wbt or whatever, but it's honestly just a mix of brainworms and having a lot of fun with these blorbos and wanting to have be in the right mindset while i write

[northern-passage]

what have i been up to?

i decided to do a little check-in type post just to let you all know what i've been working on. i know things have been quiet here, mainly because i'm just not as active on social media as i used to be (but especially here)

i have been working on tnp, though. i've been rewriting chapter 2 (what was previously chapter 1) and i know a lot of people complain about rewrites but the fact was simply that i had written myself into a corner; when it comes to IF, when you have a lot of stats and branching and variations to track, you get to a point where it simply does not make sense to try and force it, and i really needed to go back and fix my coding and cut a lot of variables. which is what i've been doing, and many of you have seen how that's changed the game so far with the rewritten prologue (now chapter 1).

with that in mind, i've also done a lot of worldbuilding. again, you've seen some of this if you saw the pantheon post i made a while ago (though some of that has changed already, too, along with more edits to chapter 1 😅) and i've put a lot more thought into the setting, how the world "works" and the different relationships between countries and cultures, etc.

i will be yapping about all of that under the cut if you're interested, but if not, just know i am still working on the game. i do not have an estimated timeline for an update, but i am trying very hard to get chapter 2 out this year.

anyways, my rambling:

one of the main changes will be how Gael and Adrania function. Gael and Adrania remain similar in essence but the relationship has changed, as has the source of their hostilities. i've also put a lot more thought into the way gender roles would work in this world, something that i've previously been a bit wishy-washy on. reading more fantasy and studying lectures on the craft and understanding the way oppression works in the real world has allowed me to brainstorm a better, more realized world with tnp.

that being said, i still stand by my original goal with this project, which is that i'm not really interested in writing violent/graphic misogyny, transphobia, or homophobia. but i am interested in exploring the way empires hold power, and for tnp, that has always been through money and trade. even in the very first iterations, the major cities like blackwater and king's harbor are designed with very clear and purposeful class divides, i've just put a lot more thought into how this would actually work.

and there is also the influence of the gods; when your major religious figurehead is revered as a "mother," as well as the enforcer of justice, what does that mean for the world and the women in it? when you have gods that are genderless or genderfluid, how does that change societies perception of trans people, and gender as a whole?

i struggled when i started tnp about how to depict gender in this world, and originally i simply chose not to give it much thought, and i used a lot of anachronisms rather than actually trying to explore what transness and gender within the context of tnp would look like (i think this was my biggest mistake with Lea at the start. if you remember that you're a real one lol). and i think that's a cop out and simply not how any society would work. Adrania is an empire; people will be forced to comply to various roles and expectations in order for this empire to retain control.

so this led me to 1. reimplement the tolls, something that was present in my very first draft but got scrapped before publishing for the first time. it's easy to control people when you have papers and tolls to track them (or restrict their movements if they don't have the "correct" papers). 2. expand on the relationship between Gael and Adrania. where did these two countries come from? when did they split? how has Adrania managed to grow in power while Gael has not? and how has the plague exacerbated the hostilities? etc. we'll see a lot of this explained in the next chapter (as well as some edits made to chapter 1 again), with Adrania's trade agreements and how they exclude Gael specifically.

and finally, what gender roles are people expected to play within society? if Adrania's main god is a woman (okay, a wolf, but you get it) and a mother and also known to be a ruthless dispenser of justice, what does this mean for Adranian men and women? if their god of death is genderless and also commonly represented as a god of dreams and transitions (from life to death and wakefulness to dreams and from one gender to another or beyond) how does this impact the trans people in this world? if the god of war and harvest is sometimes a woman and sometimes a man, who benefits from elevating one depiction over the other?

lots of fun questions! which i think has led to some interesting changes in the game which makes the world feel more real. it also gives me a reason (not that i "needed" one but, ya know *gestures vaguely*) for all of the women i have in combat leadership roles: Keres, Hadrien, and Merry, just to name a few, and why someone like Redwine would be disliked and challenged as a political, landowning leader instead (and ultimately replaced by a man). while all the warrior gods are women (Wolfmother, the Moon, Stormbringer), Adrania emphasizes the male depiction of the Sun, which leads to this divide of men seeking landownership and more administrative political roles, versus women who, outside of motherhood, make careers as generals and captains and knights.

with trans people, there are similar expectations, of course, but they are also pushed towards more spiritual roles due to their perceived kinship with the death god as well as the Sun (and this also means that while motherhood is revered in this world, there is a looser definition here than in our world, due to transness being acknowledged, accepted, and an integral part of society. what "motherhood" is and what it means to people will be explored heavily in game, you just have to trust me on this one!) obviously there is a real history of trans people being seen this way, and it's something i've turned over in my head for a while. beyond the spiritual, though, trans people are seen in every other role as well, and we'll see some trans people who have little to no relationship with religion or the death god (like Merry, Lea, Clementine, Rodrick, and Rafe) and others that have an actively hostile relationship with it (Noel. lol) and including the potentially trans mc, we see a diverse depiction of trans people, as hunters and watchers and captains and healers and bards, etc. i'm hoping this still gives a well-rounded, multi-faceted look at how trans people live in this world without pigeonholing them solely as "divine oracles," or othering them from their cis counterparts.

overall, i feel that i've matured as a writer since i started tnp and i want that to reflect in the world as well. rereading the original demo made me cringe and a lot of it just felt very childish and flat, and i feel like i really didn't have a strong enough grasp on the fantasy genre, nor the skills and knowledge required to do proper, intensive worldbuilding at the time. now i think the story and setting and characters have grown a lot and i'm more capable and confident to do the things that past me couldn't. anyways thanks for reading all this, this post was just an excuse for me to talk about everything because i'm dying keeping it all to myself LOL. i look forward to catching back up to chapter 3 and finally sharing it all with you eventually!

[tennessoui]

Sooo I know you have another essay to write buuuut when you have time, could you do #25? Please and thank you!!!

Good luck with getting your essay done!! 🥰

here you go!

[from this list of prompts]

[2. 'have you lost your damn mind?' - 5. 'are you jealous' - 13. 'kiss me.' - 14. 'hey, i'm with you, okay? always.' - 18. 'this is the stupidest plan you've ever had. of course i'm in.' - 19. 'the paint is supposed to go where?' - 22. 'i've seen the way you look at me when you think i don't notice' (LATEST) - 24. 'you're the only one i trust to do this' - 27. 'i'm pregnant' - 28. 'marry me?' - 29. 'i thought you were dead' - 32. 'i think i'm in love with you and i'm terrified' - 37. 'wanna dance?' - 44. 'if you die, i'm gonna kill you' - 41. 'you did all of this for me?' - 46. 'hey, have you seen...? oh']

25. 'i can't believe you talked me into this.'

"I can't believe you talked me into this," Barriss mutters under her breath, far too loudly for Ahsoka's comfort.

"If you keep grumbling, he's gonna hear us from parsecs away," Ahsoka snaps, pushing against her arm. "And I didn't talk you into anything. We're just bringing Master Kenobi a slice of honey cake for his Temple Day."

"You talked me into wearing this stupid hat," Barriss points out, gesturing up to the cone atop her head. "And waking up at 0500 to do this."

"It's not my fault he likes to wake early," Ahsoka sniffs and adjusts her own coned hat. She'd looked it up. It's a Stewjoni birthday tradition, and since Jedi don't really mark their birthdays, given that many birthdays aren't known or precisely documented, she thinks it's alright to mix traditions in the name of celebration.

It's Master Obi-Wan's Temple Day, which means that one hundred years ago--or, apparently, thirty-seven to be exactly--on this day, Master Kenobi was brought to the Temple and adopted by the Jedi.

"I don't even like Master Kenobi all that much," Barriss says, and Ahsoka elbows her.

Probably the first and most important lesson her master ever taught her is that everyone likes Master Kenobi. To suggest otherwise is highly dangerous if Master Skywalker's in hearing range.

"Shut up, yes you do," Ahsoka says and pushes the cake plate into her friend's hand so that she can study the lockpad outside Master Kenobi's door. "If you didn't, you wouldn't be bringing him cake at 0500 on his Temple Day. Now be quiet, I'm trying to remember what digits Skyguy uses to gain access."

It'd help the most if Skyguy had answered the twenty comms she'd sent him last night, when she'd thought up her surprise for Master Kenobi's Temple day. But he hadn't even opened them. If it weren't for their training bond, Ahsoka wouldn't even know he was alive. They've been on Coruscant for three days, and she hasn't seen him since de-boarding.

She thinks maybe he and Senator Amidala made up, though she's not supposed to know about that. Not about their fight, not about their relationship. Her master thinks she's too young to hear about any of it, even though she's still got eyes.

It'd surprise her if they did get back together, from what Ahsoka's pieced together, but nothing else explains Anakin's absence.

But anyway.

It would be so much easier if Anakin were with her, because Anakin knows the code to get into Master Kenobi's quarters like he knows everything else about Master Kenobi.

But part of the reason Ahsoka's gone to all the trouble of finding the coned hats and making the honey cake--from scratch!--and roping Barriss in to help her with the whole thing is that if Anakin has gotten back together with Padmé, he's liable to forget all about Master Kenobi's Temple day, and Master Kenobi is liable to get really sad about it.

So Ahsoka is here, just in case Anakin remains...indisposed. It's what Master Kenobi deserves. He's a great Grandmaster. Some would probably even say he takes on a lot of master-like duties when it comes to teaching Ahsoka, and Ahsoka wouldn't argue. It's sort of nice to have two masters who look after her and encourage her to become the best Jedi she can be, even though that also means she has two masters who enjoy nagging at her all the time.

"Oh!" she says as the lockpad beside the door flashes green and opens. "Huh. That's funny."

"What?" Barriss asks, holding the cake plate in front of her like it's a shield.

"Oh, the doorpad code is Anakin's Temple day," Ahsoka says as she steps through the door. "It's ironic is all, that--Skyguy?"

"Ahsoka!?" Her master is in the kitchen unit. In Master Obi-Wan's kitchen unit. At 0500 in the morning.

And...shirtless?

"Master, put on a shirt!" Ahsoka yelps, turning her face away and covering her eyes. Beside her, Barriss makes a noise of disgust. "What are you even doing here? Naked?"

"Me?" Anakin's voice is high-pitched and far too loud for what had been a quiet morning. His words are accompanied by the sounds of a scramble around the area. Ahsoka doesn't even want to know what her master is doing. "Me--what are you doing here? It's not even 0600!"

"It's Master Obi-Wan's Temple day!" Ahsoka cries back, risking a peek over her fingers. Anakin has found and clothed himself in a striped and frilly yellow apron, which--well, it'll have to be do. "But why are you standing naked in Master Obi-Wan's kitchen unit?"

Barriss coughs. "Ahsoka, I think--we should probably..."

Anakin's face is beet red, and it grows to a worrying shade of purple when there's a clatter from further in the quarters. "I'm...uh. I was making Obi-Wan breakfast," he says.

"There's no food out," Ahsoka points out.

"I spilled it on myself," Anakin snaps. "So obviously, I took off my shirt because it had food on it, and how do you know the code to Obi-Wan's quarters anyway, padawan?"

Ahsoka glares back at him. "Show me the shirt," she demands.

"Ahsoka, really, I think we should go," Barriss says right as Anakin begins to bluster about laundry chutes and steaming clothes or something.

"Anakin?" Master Obi-Wan's voice calls, sounding confused. "What's taking so long, darli--"

"Your grandpadawan's here!" Anakin sounds shrill. He looks--

Ahsoka peers closer at him now that the shock of his presence has begun to wear off. He looks relatively freshly mauled.

"With her friend!" Anakin adds. His eyes dart between Ahsoka, Barriss, the cake, and the door. "They wanted to surprise you!"

Five long moments pass before the door at the end of the hall opens and Master Obi-Wan emerges, sleep clothes clearly rumpled and robe thrown on in a hurry. There's a worrying flush on his cheeks as well, and Ahsoka has never seen his hair so mussed up. "Oh," he says, looking between Ahsoka and Barris, and Anakin and his...apron. "Well, I am. Ah. Very surprised, padawan. Thank you."

Ahsoka nods at Anakin: this is more the reaction she'd expected. "Happy Temple Day, Master Obi-Wan," she tells him and then blinks at him, as he comes further into the light. "You have a bruise on your neck, Master," she tells him. "Was it from a fight?"

Barriss makes a distressed sound at the same time that Anakin does.

"Oh," Master Obi-Wan says, hand flying unerringly to the spot and covering it with his fingers. "It must have been, yes. I was in the training salles yesterday. I'll apply bacta on it this morning."

"I didn't want to do this," Barriss informs them, thrusting the cake plate back into Ahsoka's hands. "And I apologize for being here."

"I'm sorry you're here too," Ahsoka thinks her master mutters.

"Nonsense," Master Obi-Wan says. "Cake, anyone? It looks lovely, Ahsoka."

[adoreispunk]

Out of Reach (joel miller au)

…"Yeah?" His thumbs stroked just under the waistband of my underwear, barely touching skin. "Could've fooled me. You look so fuckin' pretty layin' out for me like this, babygirl."”

content warning: 18+ MDNI, fingering, car sex, dirty talk, grinding, praise, age gap, smut.

wc: 3.8K

an: my first time writing smut;) hope yall enjoy.

————————-

seven

The rest of the day flew by in a blur of sweat, sawdust, and coffee. Joel kept a steady pace, moving between tasks like he'd been doing this his whole life, and I did my best to keep up. Not that he ever made me feel like I was falling behind, I just didn't want to be a bother. We hit the second job site just after 1 and scarfed down sandwiches in the cleanest spot we could find.

Now, with the sun dipping low and the hum of the drive settling in my chest, I'm somehow more awake than I've been all day. My body's exhausted, but my brain won't shut off, not with Joel sitting right next to me, his knuckles relaxed on the wheel, his profile lit by the soft burn of sunset.

He pulls into the lot but doesn't move. Just sits there. Like me.

"You hungry?" he asks, voice low.

I hesitate. "Joel..."

"I'm grabbing dinner," he says, cutting me off gently. "Thought maybe you'd come. On me."

My heart's already kicking up, and I try to rein it in. I laugh, light and a little breathless. "You already gave me a laptop and the position. I think you've done more than enough."

He leans in slightly—not a lot, but enough that I feel the shift.

"It's not about that," he says, voice rougher now. "I just... wanna sit with you a while. That okay?"

It's that last part that does me in, the way he says it. Like he's not demanding anything, but he needs it anyway. Why wouldn't I give in.

I nod, softly. "Yeah. Okay."

He relaxes just enough to let out a breath, then starts the truck again.

The restaurant is quiet, low-lit, tucked between a string of other restaurants. Nothing special from the outside. But inside it's cozy. It's the kind of place where people sit for hours without checking the time.

We slide into a booth near the back. I can feel his hand on the small of my back when he leads me in.

He orders a whiskey, neat. I order a glass of wine. I tell myself I'm just trying too hard to look older. More composed. Not like the girl whose knees go soft when he looks at her too long.

At first, we talk about work. The site, the guys, and more about what I want to start working on the next day. But then it shifts more personal. Naturally, slowly, the way it always seems to with him.

We talk about music. About old records and what he used to listen to on long drives. I tell him how my dad always tried to get me into Springsteen, but I was a stubborn little brat who thought synth-pop was deeper.

And somewhere between my second glass of wine and the server clearing our plates, I asked about Sarah.

His eyes softened immediately.

"She's in school up in New York now." he said, leaning back in his chair like the words pulled some weight from his chest. "Couldn't've picked somewhere farther away if she tried."

I smiled. "That sounds like her."

"Yeah," he chuckled, running a hand through his hair. "She hasn't changed a bit. Still got that stubborn streak. But I miss her. House's too quiet without her around."

A quiet beat passed between us.

"I'd love to see her again sometime," I say gently. "Maybe when summer rolls around."

Joel looked at me then, really looked, and nodded like the thought actually meant something to him. "She'd like that. She always liked you."

I glanced down at my wine glass, swirling what was left, then looked up and caught him watching me with that quiet intensity he always wore when he wasn't saying much.

I smiled, a little unsteady. "You know, I used to be kind of scared of you."

His eyebrows lifted. "Me?"

I nodded, resting my chin on my hand. "You were always so serious. So... intense. Barely said a word." I scarf down what's left of my wine.

Joel huffed a quiet laugh. "Yeah, guess that sounds like me".

That made me laugh—really laugh. "I liked it, though. The quiet thing. You made people pay attention without trying."

He leaned forward slightly, eyes narrowing in a way that made me feel like I was under a spotlight. "You drunk, Olivia?"

I blinked, caught off guard. "Tipsy." I admitted, then shrugged. "Not enough to say anything I don't mean."

His gaze held steady on me. "So what is it you're trying to say?"

I hesitated—long enough for him to notice.

"I've seen that look a thousand times today." he said softly. "You've got something sitting on the edge of your tongue and you're deciding whether to let it out"

I looked away, heart thudding, heat rising to my cheeks. "It's not a big deal."

Joel tilted his head. "Seems like it is."

There was a silence I didn't try to fill. He waited.

"I think about you more than I should," I finally said, barely louder than a whisper.

Joel went still.

"I didn't mean for it to happen," I added quickly, the words falling out now that they'd started. "Since the first time I saw you again, these last few weeks i've been at school. Now working with you, seeing how much you care, how hard you push yourself. I notice everything now. The way you talk, the way you move, the way you look at me when you think I'm not paying attention."

Joel's throat bobbed as he swallowed, but he didn't interrupt. Just watched me like I was saying something he already knew but wanted to hear for himself.

"I know it's complicated," I said. "And probably not smart. But I didn't want to keep pretending like I didn't feel anything."

Another beat. Joel leaned back slowly in his seat, like he needed the space to breathe.

"Jesus," he muttered. "You have any idea what it's been like tryin' to keep things professional with you around?"

My eyes flicked up to his, wide and surprised.

"Thought I was doin' a decent job," he added, voice low, rough. "But you walk into a room and it's like I forget what the hell I'm supposed to be doing."

I didn't know how to respond, where to go from here. Maybe it was the wine or me never thinking he would actually feel a similar way.

Then, without a word, he reached into his wallet and dropped enough cash onto the table to cover the check and a generous tip.

"Let's go," he said, standing up.

My stomach dropped. Something in his tone—firm, curt—made me freeze for a second. I stared at the bills on the table, then up at him, trying to read his expression. But it was blank.

Suddenly, I felt so stupid. How could I mess up something so bad that was literally handed to me.

"I—Mr. Miller, I'm sorry," I said quickly, rising from my seat, my voice quieter. "I said too much.

He looked at me for a long moment. Then he said it again—lower this time, slower.

"Let's go, Olivia."

And I followed, my cheeks burning.

The ride back was quiet. The kind of silence that felt thick, like it was holding its breath. I stared out the window out of embarrassment. Maybe I'd crossed a line. Maybe I'd ruined everything. The last thing I wanted was to make things weird. Worse yet, to make him uncomfortable.

The office parking lot came into view. My car was the one left, sitting under a flickering overhead light. Joel slowed the truck as we pulled in, the hum of the engine filling the space between us.

And then I felt it. His hand, steady and warm, resting gently on my thigh.

I turned to look at him, startled, heart hammering.

He was still watching the lot, one hand on the wheel, the other anchored to me like it belonged there. His thumb moved once, a slow, almost-thoughtless stroke that sent a wave of heat through my core.

"I've wanted to say something." he said quietly, his voice almost a rasp. "But I didn't know if I had the right."

I didn't say anything. I couldn't. The weight of his hand, the sound of his voice—it left no room for words.

He looked over at me then, and this time, I could read the look on his face. Want with restraint

"You sure about this?" he asked, eyes searching mine. "Because if we start this... I'm not gonna be able to pretend nothing's changed."

Joel's hand stayed on my thigh, his grip a little tighter now, like he needed the anchor.

"And your dad..." he started, then stopped, jaw clenching. "Jesus. If he ever found out..."

He exhaled hard through his nose, like it physically hurt to say it. "He'd never forgive me, Olivia. I don't think I'd be able to look him in the eye again. Hell, I don't even know what the fuck I'm doing here."

His thumb brushed against the inside of my leg, slow, grounding. "But I know I want you. I've tried not to. I've tried real hard."

That confession unraveled something tight in my chest. I'd imagined and hoped for it—but hearing it in his voice, heavy with conflict and need, it undid me.

"I need to know," he said, softer now, glancing at me again, "You're not drunk, right? I need you clearheaded when you say it. I'm not touching you if you're not sure."

I shook my head, quick almost desperate. "I'm not. I swear." I licked my lips, voice barely above a whisper. "I' want you so bad Joel."

I barely had time to register the shift in the air before Joel leaned in, hand moving from my thigh to the side of my neck, rough fingers cradling me like he didn't trust himself not to break me.

Then his mouth was on mine.

It was desperate—hungry and unfiltered and so much more than I was prepared for. His lips crashed into mine with a groan that vibrated in my chest, and I gasped against him, which only gave him more. He took it, pulled me closer across the truck's console like he couldn't stand the inches between us. His other hand slid around my waist, dragging me into him like he needed me there.

A small, involuntary moan escaped me at the feel of his body pressed against mine, and that was all it took.

"Fuck," he muttered against my lips, the sound raw, like he'd been holding it in for far too long. "Where did you come from?"

His tongue pushed past my lips, and I let him in, tasting the whiskey on his breath, the heat of him unraveling every bit of restraint I'd clung to. The kiss deepened fast. His mouth hot and searching, like he was trying to memorize me from the inside out. I kissed him back with everything I had, fingers curling into his hair.

Joel didn't stop kissing me—not even for a second.

His hands gripped my waist, firm and sure, and before I could blink, he was moving. In one smooth motion, he shoved his seat back with a grunt, the lever creaking under the force, and then he was pulling me into his lap, dragging me over the console like I weighed nothing.

I gasped into his mouth, but he didn't let up, didn't let go. He just wrapped his arms around me tighter and sealed his mouth over mine like he was starving for it.

The moment I settled on top of him, thighs straddling either side of his lap, I felt the hard press of him beneath me. He was so big.

It made my head spin.

My body moved without thinking, my hips rolling forward, slow and uncertain at first. The friction hit just right and I couldn't stop the low, breathy moan that left me. Joel groaned, deep in his throat, and his grip on my hips tightened, holding me right there as I rocked against him again, more confident now. More desperate.

"Jesus, Olivia" he breathed against my lips, voice rough and frayed. "You're gonna fuckin' kill me."

But he didn't stop me. Didn't try to pull away.

If anything, he pulled me closer.

My hands slid into his hair, tugging a little, and that only made him kiss me harder. Deeper. Tongue and teeth and heat, like he didn't care where we were or who could see like he needed this just as bad as I did.

His fingers brushed between my legs, dragging over the heat of me through my pants, and I couldn't help the soft gasp that fell from my mouth, my body jerking forward slightly into his touch.

"You sittin' here grindin' on me, thinkin' im not gonna do something 'bout it?"

He pressed his forehead to mine, lips brushing and teasing. I whimpered at the loss, but then he tilted his head and looked at me—really looked at me.

"I need to hear you say it, sweetheart," he added, voice softer now, almost reverent. "I wanna hear you cum. Been thinkin' about it all night."

"Yes," I breathed, not even hesitating. My hands gripped the front of his shirt, pulling him closer like I needed him to fuse into me. "Please, Joel. Im so wet already" Something flickered in his eyes—something primal.

I move my mouth to his jaw and neck, desperate to not let any of this moment go to waste. It feels like I was on autopilot.

"Fuck," he groaned, the word guttural, like it clawed out of him. His hand tightened on my thigh. "You don't know what you're doin' to me, baby."

"Then show me." I whispered, lips brushing his jaw. That broke him.

He swore again under his breath, something low and hoarse, before pulling away just enough to look me dead in the eye.

"Get in the back," he ordered. His voice was sharp, commanding.

I scrambled off his lap without question, my knees shaking as I pushed open the door and climbed into the back seat of the truck. The second I got in, he was already there, slamming the door shut behind him.

His hands were on me in seconds—gripping my waist, pulling me down beneath him, and all I could do was cling to him as everything we'd both been holding back came pouring out at once.

He goes back to kissing me just as desperate and hard. He starts working my shirt open with one hand as he supports my back with the other. Revealing a black lace bra I had underneath. Definitely not picked intentionally. He doesn't take my shirt off completely or my bra, he starts working kisses that will definitely leave a mark all throughout the tops of my boobs.

"Fuck Joel, just like that." I moan. Making his hand work up to my cleavage and squeezing it just right.

He starts making his way down my stomach with his mouth not bothered by the enclosed space we're in. He looks up at me with his puppy dog eyes as he starts unbuttoning my pants.

"Kick those pretty heels off and lift up your hips."

I do what he tells me and he starts taking my pants off.

His fingers trailed over the lace at my hips, his breath catching as he took in the full sight of me sprawled out for him in the backseat.

"Damn," he said, low and rough. "You really wore this just to kill me tonight, didn't you?"

I shook my head, my voice catching in my throat. "I didn't—this wasn't—" I swallowed. "I wasn't planning on any of this."

"Yeah?" His thumbs stroked just under the waistband of my underwear, barely touching skin. "Could've fooled me. You look so fuckin' pretty layin' out for me like this, babygirl."

And then his hands moved between my thighs again, slower this time, purposeful. The pad of his finger dragged across the center of me, through the lace, and I let out a shaky moan. My hips rising up like they had a mind of their own.

He murmured, voice rough and ragged. "You're soaked. I make you this wet?"

The words made my entire body jolt. There was no hiding how much I wanted him—how badly I'd been needing this. My thighs trembled as he rubbed slow, teasing circles through the damp fabric, just enough to build pressure, not enough to ease it.

"Joel," I gasped. "Please—"

He leaned in again, his lips brushing my cheek, then the shell of my ear. The weight of him, the warmth of his breath, all of it sent a shiver through me.

"You needed this, didn't you?" he whispered. "Been wound up all night, sittin' next to me like that, talkin' to me like that." All of a sudden he starts kissing my neck. Making me even weaker.

"Yes," I breathed. "God—yes."

He groaned, something guttural and wrecked, as his hand pressed firmer between my legs, his touch no longer teasing. He finally starts moving the lace over to one side as I feel his touch on my folds for the first time.

"Lay back," he said, voice thick with need, "Let me take care of you."

He slowly starts putting his 2 fingers into me. Slow and steady at first. I let out something obscene and desperate in that moment. So glad that I can finally let out this pressure.

"Jesus Christ," he groaned under his breath, like he couldn't believe it. "This pussy's so wet for me."

"Joel—" I said his name like a prayer, like a plea, and he answered it with his two fingers curling up, moving faster.

My hips jerked, the stretch making me cry out, but it was relief. It was heaven. It was him, curling his fingers just right as his thumb pressed down on my clit, working me like he already knew my body better than I did.

"That's it." he murmured, his mouth grazing my neck, his voice ragged and tight. "Wanna hear you. Tell me what you want."

"Fuck— you. All of you Joel. Don't stop—please don't stop—" I was panting now, my hands gripping, nails digging into his forearms he's supporting himself with.

He fucked me with his fingers like he couldn't help it, like he needed to get me there just to survive. The slick sound of it filled the car, obscene and perfect, and my moans only got louder with every twist of his wrist.

"You're squeezin' me so tight," he rasped. "You gonna come for me? Let me feel it?"

"Just like that —Joel—fuck—" I couldn't hold back anymore. My back arched off the seat, thighs shaking, the world narrowing to the fire spreading out from where he touched me.

And then I shattered.

The orgasm crashed over me like a wave, pulling a cry from my throat that didn't even sound like me. My vision blurred as I pulsed around his fingers, riding it out, letting him wring every last drop of pleasure from me.

Joel didn't stop. Not until I was limp beneath him, chest heaving, lips parted in shock.

He finally pulled his fingers out from me and making eye contact bringing them to his mouth, tasting me with a soft, filthy groan. Then kissing me just as desperate as before, making me taste myself on his lips.

"You've got no idea what youre gonna do to me." He says finally pulling away from me.

I just stared at him—completely fucked out, heart pounding, skin flushed. I didn't have words yet. All I could do was reach for him, still needing more. I wanted to make him feel just as good.

"I wanna take care of you too," I whispered, my fingers brushing his buldge, feeling how hard he was for me. "Let me."

His hand caught mine, firm but gentle. He looked at me like I'd just said something dangerous.

"Baby," he said softly, shaking his head with a crooked, pained smile. "You put that pretty mouth on me right now, I won't be able to stop myself."

The heat in my core flared all over again at his words, but there was something in the way he looked.

"I'll wait," he murmured, brushing his thumb across my lower lip. "You already gave me more than I fuckin' deserved."

Then he kissed me again—full and slow, all tongue and heat, like he needed to seal this moment between us. I moaned into it, wrapping my arms around his shoulders, letting him swallow every bit of me.

Eventually, he pulled away just enough to start doing up the buttons of my shirt, his touch gentle now, the intensity shifting to something quieter. Intimate.

I glanced down, cheeks flushed, still breathless, then looked around for my pants. They were crumpled on the floor of the truck. I grabbed them, laughing under my breath.

"You gonna put these on for me too?" I teased, holding them up with one hand.

Joel smirked, eyes dark but soft as they dropped to the scrap of lace still clinging to my hips.

"Sweetheart, if I touch you again right now, we're not leavin' this truck tonight."

I smiled, slipping my legs back into pants with shaking hands, still feeling the imprint of his fingers between my thighs.

He looked at me again, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. He looks down on his watch, "It's gettin' late," he said, voice low and a little rough. "You should get home, babygirl."

I gave a weak laugh, slumping back into the seat and tugging the last button of my pants closed, my body still humming from everything he'd done to me. "I don't think I can walk to my car."

Joel looked back at me, smirking—warm and lazy, but with that glint in his eyes like he was still thinking about what we'd just done. "Need me to carry you?"

"I think so" I said, trying to sound playful but my voice came out a little breathier than I meant. "Think I'm gonna need to ice my thighs or something."

That made him laugh, quiet and genuine, before he leaned over and pressed one last, slow kiss to my lips. His hand cupped the side of my face, fingers curling into my hair like he didn't want to let go just yet.

"C'mon I'll walk you out."

——————————————

an:

[meazalykov]

love letters

sydney lohmann x f!reader

writing loving letters to your girlfriend always warms a part of her soul

warnings: one letter is suggestive

august 3rd, 2023

dear sydney,

I hope you find this somewhere in the pit of the clothes in your locker ha. i'm sorry the world cup didn’t end the way you wanted, and i know that’s weighing on you in some way.

yes, I was with my own national team but I watched you out there, giving everything, your heart stitched into every sprint, every tackle. it hurts to see you break down like that.

sydney.. you’re still a great player. you lift up your teammates with a smile, making everyone feel like it’ll be okay.

I am just your bayern teammate, not your national one. however, it hurts to move on in this world cup tournament while you go back to munich. I am someone who sees you from a distance, but i needed to write this.

you’re not defined by one tournament. your fire, your kindness, the way you make people feel alive just by being near you...that’s what matters. you’ll rise again, syd. i know it.

your teammate <3

october 15th, 2023

dear sydney,

training’s been intense lately, hasn’t it? I felt it, and you did too. we've been together for a month at this point, but one thing I've noticed is how you make football look like a dance.

i saw you today, laughing with klara after a drill, your hair catching the sunlight, and i couldn’t stop smiling while listening to the both of you in our small triangle while sitting.

you have this way of making my hard days feel lighter, like you’re carrying a secret spark that spreads to everyone.

i’m still too shy to say this to your face, so here i am, hiding behind paper again even though you are my girlfriend now.

you’re beautiful, not just because of how you look (though, wow, you really do glow you beautiful girl). it’s how you listen when someone’s struggling, how you fight for every ball like it’s the last.

i admire you so much, more than you’ll ever guess. keep shining, okay?

you can guess who <3

december 20th, 2023

dear sydney,

it’s almost christmas, and the team’s all festive, but i keep thinking about you. we have been officially together now for the last few months... can you believe it?

i was so nervous when i finally told you it was me writing those letters, but the way you smiled… syd, i’ll never forget it.

you’re my girlfriend!

you’re beautiful in ways i’m still discovering like how you get this little crease in your brow when you’re planning something sweet for me, or how you cheer louder than anyone when a teammate scores.

i’m falling for you harder every day, and i just needed you to know that.

happy holidays, my love.

your love, y/n <3

january 15th, 2024

dear sydney,

my heart’s been aching since you got hurt. as I stood down beside tuva, it hurt watching you go down in the middle. it felt like the world stopped.

you’re always so unstoppable out there, and now you’re stuck healing, and i know it’s driving you crazy. injuries have happened to you a lot but you’re still you...still cracking jokes, still making me laugh even when you’re in pain.

that’s what i love most about you, syd. your spirit never dims.

you’re beautiful, even now, with your crutches and your stubborn determination. it’s how you care so fiercely, how you’re already talking about coming back stronger.

i’m here for every step, holding your hand, loving you through it all. rest, heal, let me be your strength for a bit.

your love, y/n <3

march 10th, 2024

dear sydney,

you’re back on the pitch, and i swear the whole team feels brighter for it. being back with me, even if it’s just for light drills, makes my chest ache in the best way.

you’ve been so strong through this recovery, syd. i know it wasn’t easy, but you faced it with that same fire you always have...the one that makes you chase every ball, every dream, like nothing can stop you.

i love how you light up when you talk about the game, how your laugh echoes across the field.

you’re beautiful in your passion and for this club, in the way you make me believe in impossible things.

i’m so proud of you, and so lucky you’re mine.

y/n <3

may 25th, 2024

dear sydney,

the season’s winding down, and i keep thinking about how far we’ve come.

you’re back to your old self by flying down the wing, making defenders look silly, and god, it’s a sight.

the thing is that you're more than just a footballer, it’s you off the pitch that steals my heart. the way you check in on me after a long day, the way you hum when we’re cooking dinner together.

you make everything feel like home.

your beauty’s in those quiet moments, syd. it’s how your eyes soften when you look at me, how you always know what to say when i’m doubting myself.

i love you more than i can ever write down, but i’ll keep trying.

your love, y/n <3

august 6th, 2024

dear sydney,

today was heavy, and i’m sorry. scoring those goals, especially that second one which curled it past you into the top right, felt so strange.

you were right there along with the other defenders like feli and midge trying to block me, and i saw the fight in your eyes. you were aggressive, I'm happy you didn't let our relationship stop you from trying to stop me.

i didn’t celebrate much as trinity and mallory jumped on my back like I'm some sort of train ride...you probably noticed.

i can get wild with my cellys, but not today, not with you and so many of our bayern teammates out there, giving everything.

it’s weird, isn’t it? how we’re family at club, but out here, it’s country against country.

i know germany’s headed to the bronze match now, and i hate that i had a part in that.

the thing is that you’re so strong, syd with your heart and your fire, it’s why i fell for you.

you’ll face spain, and yeah, they’re world champs, but they’ve got holes now. don’t let their press or the famous ones like alexia scare you.

I am not your coach, but it is clear that you can break their lines if you stay sharp and capitalize on their overcommits.

i believe in you, always.

go get that bronze medal.

i love you.

y/n <3

[sydney's pov for the next letter]

august 10th, 2024

dear y/n,

its me writing you letters now, haha. I hope my handwriting is not too bad.

i’m sitting here with this bronze medal around my neck, and it feels good, really good, but nothing compares to the way my heart swelled watching you today.

you won gold, and god, you deserve it.

the way you lit up out there, the pure joy on your face when they called your name… i don’t think i’ve ever seen anything more beautiful.

the olympic committee draped that medal over you, and the crowd lost it, screaming louder than they did for anyone else. i was right there with them, cheering from the stands with my german teammates, my voice hoarse from shouting for you.

even in our colors, i was yours first.

that navy blue tracksuit of yours, the way it hugged you with that gold gleaming against it...it was like the whole stadium faded away, and all i could see was you.

your skin was glowing, love, like the medal was made to sit against it. i kept thinking about that header you scored against brazil, in the last minute, sealing that 2-0 win after your other teammate scored the first earlier.

the way you leapt, so sure, so alive, and sent the ball screaming into the net, it was perfect. you were perfect.

i must’ve replayed it in my head a hundred times already, grinning like an idiot every time.

i’m so happy for you, y/n. you worked so hard, fought through every moment, and now you’re standing at the top of the world. i know how much this means to you, how you’ve carried your country’s hopes and turned them into something real.

it’s one of the reasons i love you...your heart, your creativity and your fire, the way you give everything and still have so much left to share with me.

i’m proud of my bronze, too. we fought for it, scratched and clawed against spain like you said we could.

just standing here, knowing we both get to go home with something shining around our necks, it t feels right, doesn’t it? like we’re in this together, even when we’re on opposite sides of the pitch.

you looked so happy up there today, and that’s what i’ll carry with me most. your smile, your laugh, the way you waved to the crowd like you couldn’t believe it was real.

i could watch you shine like that forever.

i love you, my gold medal girl.

i’m counting down the minutes until i can wrap you up in my arms and celebrate you properly. you’re my everything.

your bronze medalist, sydney <3

[back to your pov]

september 1st, 2024

dear sydney,

happy one year, my love.

a whole year since you said you loved me too, since i stopped being just a secret admirer and got to hold you instead. i still get butterflies thinking about it...how you took my hand that day, how you make every day since feel like a gift.

you’re beautiful, syd, in ways that stop me in my tracks.

it’s your heart and how you pour it into everything, from a perfect cross to a silly joke just to see me smile.

it’s your courage, your warmth, the way you make me want to be better. i’m so grateful for you, for us.

here’s to forever.

your love, y/n <3

[sydney's pov once again]

august 27th, 2024

dear y/n,

god, y/n, you’re making it impossible to focus today, and i’m not even mad about it. i caught you watching me at training, your eyes lingering a little too long, and it set something off in me.

i’m writing this with my pulse racing, my skin tingling, because all i can think about is you. the way you moved out there, your confidence in every stride, the way your shirt clung to you when you were drenched in sweat... i had to look away to keep from losing it.

your aura, love, it’s dangerous, so bright and teasing, like you know exactly how you’re unraveling me.

you’re beautiful, and it’s driving me wild. it’s how you light up the pitch, throwing yourself into every play with this fire that makes my heart skip. it is the way your hair catches the light when you tie it back, making me want to tug it loose just to see you glare at me.

it’s deeper than that, y/n. it is how you lean into me when we’re alone, making me feel like i’m the only thing that matters.

you’re this mix of fierce and tender, and i’m addicted to every second of it.

i keep picturing us tonight, slipping away somewhere quiet, just you and me. i want to touch you, y/n. my hands on your waist, sliding up your back, feeling you shiver under my fingers.

i want to pull you close, my lips grazing your neck, hearing you sigh my name like it’s all you can say. i want to press myself against you, slow and deliberate, until you’re melting, begging for more.

i’m dying to take my time, to explore every inch of you again even if we do this almost every night already, just to make you feel how much i want you until you’re breathless and clinging to me.

you’ve got me so worked up, love...i can’t think of anything but you, your taste, your heat.

i’m yours, y/n, every part of me burning for you.

you’ve turned me into a mess, and i need to show you what you’re doing to me.

i love you, always, but tonight, i want to make you feel every single thing i’m feeling right now.

your love, sydney <3

[back to your pov]

october 30, 2024

dear sydney,

the new season is in full swing, and you’re killing it out there. every time you step on the pitch, it’s like you’re reminding the world who you are.

to me, you’re so much more than goals and assists. you’re the one who makes my mornings better with your sleepy smiles, the one who listens when i’m overthinking everything.

your beauty is in how you love everyone syd. you do it so fiercely and openly without holding back. it’s how you celebrate the little things, like when we nailed that recipe last week.

you make my life brighter every day, and i’ll never stop being amazed by you.

your love, y/n <3

january 20, 2025

dear sydney,

it’s cold out, but you’re still my warmth. we’ve been together through so much now, and yet every day with you feels new. i was thinking about those early letters today...how nervous i was, hoping you’d notice me.

now, i get to wake up next to you, and it’s more than i ever dreamed.

this letter is short since we have to go get ready for training soon but i love you, syd, today and always.

y/n <3

february 25, 2025

dear sydney,

i miss you so much, syd.

being here in california with the national team feels so far from you in germany, and my heart’s aching for you. the days are busy, but every quiet moment, i’m thinking of your laugh, your warmth, how you make everything better.

i can’t wait to be back with you in munich, just four days from now.

today was full, at least.

we had a light training session this morning.

there was a funny moment at lunch that made me think of you. cat or catarina, you know how she gets... was teasing alyssa about her coffee order, something about how she’s “too predictable” with her oat milk latte.

alyssa, deadpan as ever, just goes, “at least my coffee order doesn’t taste like shit,” and points at cat’s triple espresso.

i laughed so hard i nearly choked on my water.

the out-of-pocket joke was crazy! you’d have loved it, syd.

oh, and get this... there is the homophobe on the team, the one who’s acted fake around me this whole time. I've told you all at bayern about her when you guys asked.

well, she finallyyyyy mumbled some apology too all of us on the team yesterday after her scandal happened LAST YEAR???? i guess she felt guilty after all this time.

i just nodded and walked away. i don’t have the energy for her drama, so i keep my distance at these camps. it’s better that way, and honestly, i’d rather focus on the teammates who’ve got my back, like literally anyone else.

california’s sunny, but it’s not the same without you. i went for a walk by the beach after training, just to clear my head, and i kept wishing you were here, holding my hand, making fun of how i always trip over the sand.

i’m counting down the hours until i’m back with you, syd. four days, and i’ll be in your arms again, where i belong. i love you so much.

your love, y/n <3

march 26, 2025

dear sydney,

i’m sitting here, syd, and i feel like i’ve been run over.

bayern’s out of the champions league, 4-1 to lyon in that second leg, and it’s eating me alive. i’m so burnt out, so sad, and honestly, pissed...but not at the team, not at you. it’s me.

i keep replaying every moment, every goal we let in, and i can’t shake the thought that i should’ve done more.

i should’ve stopped them. diani’s goal. that is all on me. if i’d passed down to tuva instead of pernille, that whole play wouldn’t have fallen apart.

i see it over and over, my mistake, and it’s like a knife twisting.

i let us down.

you, though...you were brilliant out there. you fought like hell, every sprint, every tackle, pouring your heart into it like you always do. i’m sorry if my frustration’s spilling over, love. you don’t deserve that.

you never stop amazing me, even when i’m drowning in my own head. i just wish i could’ve matched you today, could’ve been the player we needed.

i love you, syd, and i’m trying to pull myself together for the team, and for you.

y/n <3

april 16th, 2025

dear sydney,

spring’s here, and the world feels alive, but you’re still the brightest part of it. you’re still the same sydney who stole my heart. you are brave, warm, always finding a way to make even the toughest days feel okay.

I can't wait for our trip to mallorca in the summer. I have been to ibiza, but never mallorca. i cannot wait to spend time on the beach with you <3

you’re my home, my future, my everything. i hope you know i’ll love you forever.

you know who by now <3

masterlist

authors note: I kinda hate this but I spent too much time on it

[shaiyasstuff]

hiii, I love your writings so so much and every time I open the app I hope to see a new post of yours <3 usually I don't ask for stuff because I know writing is difficult and demanding, I write for myself sometimes just for fun and it takes a lot of brain working that I do not have lmao but if you do something similar to what I'm craving for I would be really really happy!

Basically I'm just a big nerd woman, I love anime and video games the most, it's the joy of my life besides doing art, and recently I've been thinking of my past bcs my birthday is in 8 days and reminding how bullying was a thing for girls like me (I'm over it now I'm almost 26 lol but some scars are permanent) and I would love to know how you vision the lads man enjoying/inserting themselves in their partner world of likings, maybe thrilled with how much knowledge you have about it all? bcs again, I'm reeeally into it and I love knowing/reading everything lol lore obsessed for sure (if possible something with valorant/league of legends/star rail if you know some of them but it can be anything seriously, and please nanami from jujutsu kaisen especially for zayne because they are my husbands 4 life and I love them the most ><) also I love your pfp, frieren is AMAZING!!!

Anyways, thank you very much for sharing your hardwork and beautiful mind, you're amazing and I hope you never stop writing what is in your heart <3 love you

SKSKSK ANOTHER FRIEREN FAN!! Hot take: Frieren deserves AOTY i dont care what others say XD Thank you so much for requesting this!! This was so much fun to write and honestly so so so so cute! I giggled a little too much imagining our boys just being with us (not mc, US, the real us)

So here is your request written below!! Do tell me if it’s not satisfactory >.< (I don’t play Star Rail so I did some research, if it isn’t accurate pls dont kill me) @goddamn-it-girl

Sylus

Sylus never really got video games.

“Why waste time in virtual battlefields when the real world demands strategy?” he’d say with a dismissive wave of his hand, like he was too good for flashy pixels and keyboard tapping.

But then one night, you’re in your usual spot, headset on, deep in a League match. You mutter under your breath, almost without thinking—

“God, I wish Sylus was more like Kayn’s Shadow Assassin form.”

And just like that, he’s behind you.

No warning. No hello.

Just standing there, arms crossed, eyes glued to your screen.

He doesn’t say much at first. Just watches.

“Hm,” he hums thoughtfully as your fingers fly across the keyboard—Q, Q, D—blink forward, another kill.

“It doesn’t seem that hard.”

Next week, you walk into the room after a long day—bag dropped, shoes kicked off—only to find him hunched at your desk.

Your computer’s on. He’s wearing your headset.

You watch, amused, as he furiously taps keys with a strange kind of intensity. His brows are furrowed.

And then you catch his champion.

You cross your arms, smirking.

“I cannot believe you got jealous over a video game character.”

Sylus scoffs, not even turning away from the screen.

“I wasn’t jealous. I’m learning to jungle. That way I can protect your lane.”

You laugh, falling into your spot beside him like it’s second nature now.

Because you know that’s not really why.

He just likes the way your eyes light up when you win.

Rafayel

Rafayel shares your love for video games.

He gets your obsession with Star Rail.

He’s the type to sit right next to you as you ramble about lore for the hundredth time, nodding along like it’s the most important story he’s ever heard.

“I’m telling you, Natasha is literally the coolest—like, hands down.”

“Hm. No,” he says, already smiling. “Himeko’s the coolest.”

Cue the dramatic banter.

You clutch your chest like you’ve been wounded. “How dare you.”

“Hey, I don’t make the rules.”

So you fake a cry, full-on pout and teary eyes.

He sighs dramatically, hands in the air. “Okay! Okay! Natasha’s the coolest! The best! The queen!”

You flash him a smug smile. Victory.

Then, one afternoon, you finish cooking lunch—something warm, something he usually comes running for the second it hits the air.

But today? Nothing.

Frowning, you head to the bedroom.

The door creaks open and—

There he is, slouched over the study table, completely zoned in. His brows are drawn together, pencil in hand, the quiet scratch of graphite filling the room.

“What are you doing?” you ask, curious.

He jumps like he’s been caught red-handed and slams the sketchbook shut, hugging it to his chest.

“Nothing!” he says way too fast, flashing you that boyish grin. “Is lunch ready?”

You laugh, shaking your head, and motion him to follow.

But back in the room, the sketchbook still sits on the table, forgotten in his rush.

One page left open—just enough for you to see it.

A carefully drawn sketch of you, soft and radiant, dressed as Natasha.

Of course he thinks she’s the coolest.

She looks a lot like the person he loves.

Xavier

Xavier would be insanely good at Valorant.

He saw you play once. Literally once.

And the next weekend?

There’s suddenly a whole PC setup right next to yours—dual monitors, custom keycaps, matching chairs.

He’s ready.

You blink at the setup, suspicious.

“What is this?”

“I figured we could grind to Immortal together,” he says like it’s the most casual thing in the world.

And he means it.

The first time you watch him play, you’re slack-jawed.

“How are you so good at this?”

He just shrugs, smug. “I’ve got good hand-eye coordination.”

Cheeky bastard.

But he’s not just good at the game—he’s good at being with you.

He’ll pull you into his lap on the couch after a long match, your legs draped over his, your hands gesturing wildly as you talk about Omega Earth lore like it’s gospel.

And he’s right there, nodding along with genuine interest.

He treats your passions like art.

When you draw your Reyna and Gekko ship, he’ll lean in over your shoulder, voice soft.

“You know what would be cool? What if Agent 7 wasn’t Reyna’s little sister, but actually the real founder of Valorant?”

You pause.

“You can’t just—drop lore like that—”

“Oh, and did you know if you wallbang that corner on Lotus with a Sheriff—”

“That makes so much sense!” you gasp, and then immediately groan. “No wonder I’m hard stuck Gold.”

He just grins. Because he doesn’t just drop into your world for the weekend—

He builds a home in it. Right beside you.

Zayne

Zayne wouldn’t just support your love for anime—he’d understand it.

He’d see the depth in it the same way you do.

You’d spend nights curled up on the couch, Jujutsu Kaisen playing on loop, your eyes wide and shining with every fight scene, every emotional beat.

He’s right beside you, always—arm slung around your shoulder, fingers tracing lazy circles on your arm as he watches with quiet attention.

He’d chuckle softly whenever you’d throw yourself back dramatically, clutching your chest and declaring, “I can’t do this,” after every tragic death.

He’d never mock it—he’d just pull you closer.

Then one night, he wakes up to an empty bed.

It takes him seconds to notice your absence—your warmth, the subtle weight of your presence.

He pads into the living room quietly, finding you exactly where he expected.

Curled up on the couch, legs drawn to your chest, your face softly lit by the glow of your phone screen.

You’re scrolling through endless fanart of Nanami—

Nanami glowing with cursed energy.

Nanami, suit wrinkled, tie loose.

Nanami, unwavering, standing tall even as the world tries to break him.

Zayne doesn’t say a word.

Just walks over and gently lifts you into his arms, settling you onto his lap like you belong there.

Let’s be honest, you do.

You hesitate, then murmur, almost shyly, “He reminds me of you.”

Your fingers toy with the hem of his shirt.

“Not just the suit thing. It’s the way you carry yourself. How you protect the people you love. Even when it costs you.”

He’s quiet for a beat, then nods.

“I see myself in him too.”

You giggle, already scrolling to show him more—

“Wait, look at this one. And this one. And oh my god this—”

He just smiles. Soft. Reverent.

Because he doesn’t just tolerate your love for anime—

He sees the soul of it reflected in you.

And maybe, just maybe, in him too.

[paulinet]

Love jinx

Part 1, part 2, part 3.

Warning: SFW, NSFW!, comfort, profanity, unknown gender, lewd talk, Medicine Pocket ooc, headcanons, blurred boundaries of a genderless reader, implies your job at Laplace, Medicine Pocket - they/them.

Word count: 3000≈

From the author: I don't know how long my desire to write anything will last... I really love it, but I change my tastes and hobbies too quickly. So if I disappear for a long period of time, it's okay. I come back, usually. With Medicine Pocket, it's impossible not to get back to writing, you know?

I'll probably write another piece of headcanon on this topic and then try to develop the drabbles, it's been a while since I've done one. Doramas occupy my free time, it's fun to get inspiration from there.

English - not my first language.

Enjoy reading!

SFW

Please accept my sincere congratulations if you have become a Medicine Pocket partner. It means you can hold their attention for so long that they fall in love with you.

Please prepare yourself for the fact that they've been hiding a COLOSSAL amount of energy since they first realized their crush and they plan to let it all out.

Finally they can cuddle with you indefinitely!!! They've finally gotten to the point where they can drag you on walks for hours without hesitation! At last they can touch you not as a friend, but as a lover?? God, hold that newborn puppy.

They will really act like a puppy for the first while. Perhaps a little superficially, doing completely trivial actions, but understand, this stage of the experiment they've been stuck on has lingered and they're just thrilled when they have the right to continue!

They still don't understand even themselves. What are they doing? Why are they doing it? Medicine Pocket just follow their heart. If they want to hug you, they hug you, if they want to kiss you, they kiss you. Now they can do it.

And no, they don't look stupid, at least not in your eyes. Sometimes they blush, sometimes they overreact like a volcano or geyser, but only for the first few months. Afterward, they'll just react... Internally. Because they'll have already been through it, and it will be easier.

They look at a lot of things through a "dog is man's best friend" prism. But the situation here is that they are not your friend, they are your partner. Your lover. Does that change their worldview? Not much.

"Medicine Pocket!"

"Huh? What do you need?"

"Hey, have you been listening to me at all?! I'm talking in front of you and you're flying in the clouds and looking at Y/n?!"

"I'm not allowed? Just say it again."

"Damn it, Medicine Pocket! You're not yourself! And Y/n keeps look at them.... Did you guys have a fight?"

"Ms. Regulus, I don't think it's any of our business-"

"What do I care! I don't like my friends acting weird."

"...Hm-m-m... Hm-m..."

"Ms. Regulus, I don't think there's any friendship between them now."

"What??? Mr. Apple, do you think they quarreled to the point where they are now enemies? What nonsense! Those two have never gotten to that point."

"Miss, look closely."

"What else is there to look at?"

"Do you think friends get that look?"

"Hm-m?"

"I mean, have you ever seen Medicine Pocket look at them like that before? What kind of friendship can we talk about?"

"I don't understand."

"How should I put it... I think they're lovers."

"Uh-oh... Huh?!"

Tight hugs. Medicine Pocket are very clingy partners, it is important for them to touch their partner somehow, whether it is a hug, holding hands, touching each other with skin or through clothes - everything is accepted. And everything is given back in the same volume.

"Medicine, take pity on your back. Better stand up and stretch properly if you're tired."

"I'm more than comfortable."

You wouldn't be so worried if you weren't sitting in different chairs and the distance between you was enough for Medicine Pocket to reach up with your whole body and hug your neck, resting his chin on your shoulder.

"Comfortable hanging like a jelly worm at the table?"

"Quite. Plus, they're tasty."

"Jelly berries are better."

"No way."

"Look, I don't doubt your stretch, but move closer then at least."

"Why do you care so much how I sit?"

"We're in a meeting."

Not that they like to shout about your relationship left and right, but they are not shy to show such small (and not so small) actions in a big crowd or at important events. Everyone knows everything for a long time, and those who are not satisfied - they are just jealous.

They don't know how to kiss. Yeah. It's not as bad as you'd think, but-- They're bad at it. But they learn fast! Just give them a couple sessions, oh, they'll love it. I'm sure you won't either.

If you can't do either, they can tease you for a while. Until it becomes clear that they are no better. Then they'll just grunt with a half smile. You both have a lot to learn.

Their kisses aren't even kisses at first. They're wet, emotional, ugly, you never know where they'll kiss you. But their favorite places are the lips and the back of the neck when they hug you from the back. If they have the chance, they'll kiss your shoulder.

They bite. They bite a lot. It doesn't matter where - almost you go has red bite marks, gritty skin from hickeys, and minor bruises when they hold you during coitus (I think they have pretty tenacious fingers). Of course, if there are places that hurt you too much, including your genitals - naturally they will remember them and not touch them. But biting is a way for them to show how much they like you.

If you want to bite them back, the first time you do, they'll give you a shocked look. Like, wtf? You're finally doing the same thing to them???

"... What was that."

"Sorry, I mistook your hand for my eclair. You won't be waving them around when you talk."

"... You're lying."

"You can't prove it."

"... Y/n."

"No."

"My darling..."

"Medicine Pocket, don't you dare."

"You're finally getting into it..."

"Medicine-"

There is a belief that if you don't speak your partner's love language, they will assume that you don't love them enough. It's a 50/50 situation here, but after the first time, get ready for them to get impatient for more biting. On their part, they will continue to bite as well, even more actively.

They 100% like your hair, whether it's short or long, but they favor the latter. Sitting and braiding your hair is soothing and your hair stays intact. But if that doesn't present itself - they like them too. Sometimes they need something to keep their hands occupied, you know?

"Please tell me, do you take me for a yorkshire terrier?"

"M-m-m...? What makes you think that?"

"Why do I have so many little tails all over my head?"

"You're just a hedgehog, get over it. If you snort..."

"Medicine Pocket."

"I get it, mhm. But isn't it cool? You look like a badass metalhead now."

"...Do you want to be on the team?"

"Huh?"

"Give me your hair, Doggo. I don't have to suffer alone."

They use all sorts of different nicknames for you, from the most banal "sweetheart" and "darling" to "pest" and "dumbass". The last ones, of course, are pronounced with more restraint.

In our case, they just eat something in the middle of the night after a tiring job. The emptying of the dog treat supply is attached.

Accept the fact that they have quite rowdy friends, just like themselves. Regulus and X alone are worth it. So don't be surprised if they start grabbing you and dragging you into all sorts of mischief. Don't worry, Medicine Pocket is usually always at your side, you'll all get what you deserve for your shenanigans.

They like loud music. Something like rock 'n' roll or metal, maybe electro or something, something half with meaning and a cool rhythm. So a lot of times when it's just the two of you, it's just the three of you: you, them and the music. They're fine with it. But! they'll turn it down if you're resting or you really, really need to concentrate. They know how to respect other people's concerns (in particular, just yours).

Everyone knows what dog people are like. And now you're in that category too. They always have at least 2-3 puppies running around at all times, and you have your own personal miniature guards. They yap at anyone but you. If you want, one will live with you (although it's probably illegal to keep animals specifically in rooms, but who says you're a law-abiding employee?) It's just a shame that the cats now smell dogs from you and avoid you.

Your personal doctor. Stomach ache? Take the pills in the third drawer of your desk. Horrible throbbing in your head? There were pills in the locker on the left, they don't seem to be gone yet. You need pads? They put them in the bottom drawer on purpose, they should fit you. Are you physically injured? 0.5 seconds, they'll digest the information on the fly and treat your wounds.

No one stammers on their qualifications, but you can't worry about pills and help.

They do not like to accept help when you try to support them morally. Even though you're partners, they just don't understand that help. They don't need it. They can handle it on their own.

Don't talk to them during this period. Don't try to get into their thoughts, moods, etc. Do not try to help, it will only make things worse. It doesn't matter what the situation is or how they come to it, whether it's another attempt to "humanize" Lucy or the failure of a very important experiment they had high hopes for.

Just, uh... Stick around. You know, somewhere. Walk around (just quietly), do your own thing, hum something, maybe even talk to yourself. Just do whatever it takes to show "I care. I'm here for you."

When this is over, they'll come to you. They will just crawl under your side and ask you about something that happened in their absence. Even if Medicine doesn't say anything for your help, know that they are grateful to the very depths of their souls.

NSFW

And this is where the difficulties begin.

Medicine Pocket don't identify themselves as any gender, moreover, they have no reproductive organs. And at first, you have to wonder. But they don't really think about it.

Why? Because they don't care too much about the topic at first.

They may not have a specific doctor's education, and I lean more towards veterinarian, but since they sometimes act as a doctor, we can conclude that they have some sort of doctor's education, which means that the subject of sex is not taboo for them at all.

This researcher is not one that desires you 24/7 and has an unconscionable amount of preferences.

Let's be honest, they probably aren't interested in such a thing as sex at all.

I believe that after the removal of reproductive organs they have lost at least half of their sensitivity in intimate places, if not all of it. They feel pain and all that, but they never really enjoyed it. They have many other ways of doing it.

I'm inclined to think they're asexual. And that explains their lack of interest in sex and such things, but just because they have no interest doesn't mean they can't be interested even a little bit. They have you now.

Yet, they love you more platonically. Hugging, kissing, spending time together and talking are priorities for them. Sex is just another nice perk you can explore together.

"What do you think of shibari?"

"How long ago did you start shooting in the forehead?"

"When I had to stick syringes in the board instead of darts. So?"

"How can I tell you my opinion on something I've never been involved in?"

"Solitaire."

"Medi, do I look like someone who's ever used it? I've never thought about tying anyone up."

"Who said you'd tie me up?"

"Same question for you."

"... "

"So you wanna try it once?"

"Fuck, which one of us has a libido at rock bottom?"

"What? I'm actually interested in this kind of thing for scientific purposes."

"I bet you've got a list of 1,000 and one ways to make me orgasm somewhere."

"Are you following me from this bottom with a camera?"

"Jesus, you're-"

They often wave off such ventures with phrases like "it's for science" and "I want to experiment with this...", you may no longer be surprised. Just say "yes" as you would to a phone scammer.

By the way, they have no desire to experiment with different places to do this. There's still something where their boundaries are strictly crossed by signaling tape. No prying eyes. Not even dog eyes (children are forbidden to look).

Even though they are chaos in its true incarnation and ruin the lives of half of Laplace, they aren't completely fucked up like many people think. When strangers to both of you look at you, their faces reflect only one emotion: pity for you.

Like they think you're, uh... Another animal to experiment on. And now let's think about the not-so-innocent thoughts that go through their heads... Uh-huh.

But really, Pocket is more than normal in all of this.

For example, they have their own rules when it comes to intimacy - nothing traumatizing. Nothing that could somehow cause harm or leave a more severe injury than a bite, a hickey, or a small bruise.

Yes, you'd think they'd be willing to experiment like mad scientists with evil intentions. The truth is, they are if it's interesting to them. And there's a lot of things they don't know, but not everything interests them enough.

They are pretty good at flirting, although they may not realize they have said something obscene. It's only when you hint at it that they realize. And they're pretty good at it directly.

If you flirt back with them, they don't get excited and flirt back. They just lose their filter, you know?

"I have a very important question."

"I'm busy, let's do it later..."

"It's urgent."

*deep sigh* "Just a minute."

"Is your heart free?"

"What kind of question is that? Of course not. I've got atria and aorta and ventricles and stuff in there."

"...That's not what I mean."

"I have no other heart."

"..."

"Is that it?"

"Oh, fuck you, you ruined my attempt at flirting."

"Are you fucking flirting with me?"

"I'm trying, thanks for noticing."

They're clearly leading this whole thing. Leading and not getting anything in return. Seriously, they don't need to be fucked back like they do you.

They enjoy watching you squirm in pleasure. How you wriggle against their hands or tongue, how you moan, how you beg them to continue. That's their ultimate reward.

But I think they would really like it if you praised them afterwards. Tell them what a great job they are doing, pat them on the head and just put them down. +100 for mood and everything.

They are willing to experiment, but not often. If you want to try a different position, some role play, toys, etc., they will definitely try it with you, if it is unconventional and interesting enough. But, uh no, anything to do with dogs in this regard only makes them disgusted and distrustful.

But I think they favor missionary and cowgirl, but only if you sit with your back to them. It's easier for them to control the situation.

They don't really care if it's going to be with clothes on or not. They're fine both ways, but if you have your own fetishes about it, well, they'll take that into account.

I wouldn't say they are immediately very caring partners afterwards. They will definitely check how you are feeling and then lie down next to you to rest. Then when you both have the energy - you'll clean up together.

Okay, fair enough. Medicine Pocket will have a really hard time admitting to themselves for the first time that they suddenly want to try something with you other than hugging and kissing. Like, why? They don't need it, and all of a sudden-

They are complete wrecks before they even start. But not shifting wrecks, but disappointed in themselves. It's not that bad, but they're a bit doomed.

But when the first time goes, it's a little stiff, it's a little different than a lot of people say, like, "wow, that was so great" or "that was a hot night." No. You just let each other relax the first time. Trust. And have fun with how idiotic they are.

I slide the comb up and down, and the hair becomes more manageable under the plastic tines. The tangled, messy strands line up like a ruler into something more pleasing to the eye. Finally, silence.

Emotions from the hard day are fading, and so is the urge to drop everything to hell. It's time to savor the minutes before bed. It's still illegal for two people to sleep in the same room - who follows the rules anyway, huh? Especially out of the two of us.

"Ha-ah, finally can lie down. I'm tired," — a heavy body thudded against the bed beside me. I set aside my hairbrush and fix my gaze on them, my lips involuntarily spreading into a smile.

"I think you're making my bed squeak louder," — I decided to tease a little before I suggested a topic for the evening. I didn't care that my bed wasn't made of wood but of iron, I could hear the mattress creaking.

"Just send in a request for a new bed, that's all."

The sheer calmness on their part alarms me, and also the fact that they don't take their wrist away from their eyes or look at me. Maybe their eyes are just tired. Anything's possible.

"How easy you have it. It didn't squeak like that before you started sleeping with me," — I chuckle, but decide to stay out of their way. I can tell by their voice that they're tired, so I just lie back on the pillow, spreading my arms out. My feet stay in my slippers on the floor, and we both end up taking up almost the entire bed in different positions.

"It's like I sleep with you every day."

It's true. Some nights they stay in my bed, and some nights I can't even wait a week to sleep together-who predicted an easy job all the time? Mercuria certainly won't predict anything easy.

"I'm not so heavy."

Oh, yeah? You'll be about 70 pounds if you're tall. I'm just saying:

"The bed doesn't care whether you're heavy or not. It'll bend without any external force."

Medicine finally sigh, and turns to face me. The look in their eyes is so... Mocking, after the fatigue. I guess I shouldn't have started this.

"Why so wistful? Like you want it to be an outside influence," — I press my lips together. Depends on whether they mean dumping a rather heavy Lucy or one of their adult dogs onto my bed. Or them.

I don't really feel like asking someone to take money out of the Laplace budget for me to buy a new bed. Just to give me money, I'm all for that.

"Don't count on being able to wreak chaos in my room."

"I was counting on it from the moment I walked in here."

"Thinking five moves ahead?"

"Always."

The corners of their lips twitch, but it doesn't come to a smile. Instead, they stare at the ceiling and make a indefinite hand gesture toward the rest of the room.

They're kind of pensive today.

"You've got this place so clean and tidy it's rippling in my eyes. Why do you like cleaning so much?"

I don't understand. I raise up on my elbows and look around. The table is littered with papers and Picrasma candies, a toy ball from the last walk is lying in the corner, clothes are hanging (trying hard) on the chair, and that in a crumpled state. On the floor are stacks of books from Laplace's library. Oh, right, need to give them away sometime.

"Is this a joke? Is my place in order?" — I stare at they like Christmas paraphernalia in a midsummer store window.

If order to them is my room, then... No, I know what chaos is. They're smiling through their teeth, staring at me now. It would have been better if they had kept their eyes under their arm and lay still further.

"The question is over. I'll assume I'm in order," — I sigh and lie back down on the soft pillow. I'll never take my head off it again.

There is silence between us for a while. I stare at the ceiling, and so do they. We're both in a state of boketto. It's been a long time since I've seen Medicine Pocket so... Pensive or something. Regulus would call it the calm before the storm.

Suddenly, they sigh loudly and beat their hands on the blanket, then sit up and move closer to me. Their looks are somber and clearly do not bode well as their head falls on my chest, and then they are relatively calm again. Sometimes I wonder if they have mental problems with expressing emotions, but no, during the experiments they show their full range of emotions.

My only question is, why do they have such a sour look on their faces lately?

Throughout the week, almost every night we spend together, they are like this. They just lie like that for a while, and then suddenly they go into the state of a child who didn't get candy.

And I decide to voice the question, also frowning:

"Did fleas bite you?"

Oh, I should have been softer. As it is.

Medicine Pocket shot me an angry glance and lowered his head again. Was that too rude? I'll never know how to talk to them. Their mood is like an arrow on a compass: one way or the other.

I put the back of my hand to their cheek. I don't know, maybe they're having another attack of love for me, and the energy is pouring out of them, and they're afraid to say so.

But their cheeks are just warm, even cool. Mentally I spread my hands apart and give up.

I'm used to it, but sometimes it's not just me who gets alarmed, so I had to be sure.

I slowly run my hand through their snow-white hair, spiritually rolling on the floor again from how soft and manageable it is. Why can't I have one of those?

"Sorry. Is something wrong?" — I soften, so as not to scare them. I'll still fight them to share their worries with me, it's too early to give up.

For a few seconds they are silent. But not their face. Medicine is the kind of person whose face is subtitled, and so it's not hard to tell what they're thinking even if they're silent.

First displeasure. Then disgust. Shame. Doubt and decision. Drum roll...

And...

Silence, eyes lowered into the blanket. Only their arms come around my waist and hug me tightly. I run my hands over their white strands, finally accepting defeat.

This goes on for a few minutes until I decide to turn off the light. Clap-clap and the lights go out, leaving only the faint glow of the nightlight on the nightstand. I love Laplace for its technology, honestly.

I suspect I'm not going to have a heart-to-heart to them. And just when I was getting comfortable, lightly covering my tired eyes with my lashes...

"Have you ever wanted to fuck me?"

And I open my five-kopeck eyes. Incomprehensible, surprised, I look at them through the darkness, and they stare at me point-blank. It's not sickening or unpleasant, but rather incomprehensible. The surprise on my face is not worth describing.

I'm just shocked.

"B-be specific. Why the question?"

"I should have asked at some point. Did you want it or not?" — you'd think they'd have no brakes at all. Just like that, head-on, like a truck, flying in and asking. But I can see in the nightlight the soft blush on their cheeks. Only now the meaning of the question reaches me, and I feel embarrassment rush to my fingertips.

"N-no, well, not that I want to..."

"Anyway, yes or no?"

"No," — I decide to be honest. "At least I hadn't thought about it until now."

To be honest, I hadn't really thought about it. It hadn't occurred to me since the moment I found out they didn't have reproductive organs. There were oh-so-many questions in my head at the time, but I had to keep them all quiet out of respect for them. And now they are so successfully (or not) resurfacing.

It doesn't seem to be the answer they were expecting. Their expression softens a little, but they're still scowling. Resting their chins on my chest and pouting pale lips.

"Would you like to try it?"

At this point, I just stare at them like I'm seeing them for the first time.

What do you mean, "Would you like to try it?"

I stare into the yellow eyes, but I see nothing but genuine interest. And insolence. Damn the fact that they were scientists, and they had to feed their demons, too.

So, what, now it's me?

And now he's gonna feed me to them.

I don't want to be eaten.

I lift my head and stare aimlessly at the iron ceiling, as if to avoid the conversation. Would I want to have sex with them? On the one hand, like yes, but on the other... Because of the fact that they, uh. As if to say, there's "nothing" for them to do with me. Would that be fair?

"How do you envision it?" — no, really, how?

"Do you want me to explain it to you in detail or can you figure it out for yourself, hm?"

"Medicine, damnit. Since when do you want to discuss this topic?"

They're silent now. They must have swallowed their tongue. No, seriously, it's... It's so weird to discuss this topic so abruptly when there wasn't even any premise! I sigh and spread my hands.

"I mean, not that I don't want to, it's an optional part of a relationship, but... of course I do, don't you think?" — honesty is kind of my forte, but in this thread, I'm a little... Ugh. Not embarrassed, but it's really embarrassing.

They continue to stare at me, and then rise and now hover over me without taking their eyes off me. Have I mentioned how serious they can be when they don't want to miss an opportunity to get results anytime soon?

Uh-oh... W-what are their actions implying?

"You mean you're okay with it? Great."

I dull my gaze somewhere down at their white T-shirt, stained with whatever it is. Nice stains, colorful. I think for only a couple seconds.

"I think that's what I need to ask you."

The expression on their faces changes to more confused, but in a mocking sort of way. They pout their lips slightly, and use one hand to lift strands of my hair up.

"Pfff, don't tell me you're too embarrassed about all this. It's not like you're five years old to have a topic like sex hidden from you."

Sometimes I really want to push them away to get them to back off, but it's such a situation that the topic will come up again sooner or later. Tomorrow, while we grab something for breakfast at the Laplace Cafeteria. Medicine Pocket and tact will clearly never cross paths. Only sometimes when Ezra or the other kids are around. Mesmer has warned they more than once about filtering they vocabulary in the presence of others, but it's like they listen to her.

"That's not the point."

I glance sideways, toward the window. It's well past midnight, and we're still awake. I'd give anything right now to be able to fall asleep in seconds like my mom.

"So fucking explain to me what's wrong?"

They glare at me expectantly. Inhale, exhale.

"I'm the only one who's going to enjoy sex. I don't like that," — I clapped them on the shoulder, not sure what I was trying to say. Comforting? That's so stupid. "You said yourself what bullshit it is and that you don't even need sex. So you're only going to fuck me, and I don't want to feel guilty that you won't have a good time either."

I'm expecting a flood of judgment in my direction. Come on, no pause. I'm really curious as to what made them want to sleep with me. No, well, I'm certainly not a beauty to be given a Miss Universe award, but actually...

They snort. Before I can prepare myself for a wave of anything, they beat me to it.

I stare at them again, uncomprehending. They don't hide their mockery now, just pout their lips, as if they'd foreseen this result before...

"Medicine Pocket," — I cross my arms over my chest in annoyance. "You knew I'd think that, didn't you?"

They make a gesture like it's "fifty-fifty", and I want to strangle them.

"That's not fair."

"Hm-m?"

"I'm actually concerned about your pleasure too! And you... You..."

"Bastard. Asshole. Come on darling, I like it, keep going," — they burst out laughing as I use a good amount of force to slap them on the shoulder with the palm of my hand. It's really not fair!

I sulked, shooting them a lightning-fast glance from under my hair. So they've thought this through from the very beginning, long before this conversation. Sometimes I think they'd punch the panzer of anyone's heart and make it beat to their previously thought-out rhythm.

Oh, that's me. I mean, they're testing it on me.

"I don't mind."

The rules of this game they're playing are starting to become clearer and clearer in my mind.

"You mean?.."

"If you're going to enjoy yourself physically while I fuck you, that's fine with me. Especially since who says I won't enjoy the process at all, hm-m-m?"

It's the end. I felt my heart break, beating so fast, so fast, like it was scared of something. Of course it's scared of something, damn it. Medicine Pocket deftly guides his fingertips down my thigh, scuffing up my t-shirt.

"Just imagine how much you're going to moan under me while I-"

I don't even want to know what expression I have on my face, I cover their mouth with my hand and stare away. Out of embarrassment. I try not to pay attention to the sudden sensations in my body from their actions. I probably look really stupid in Medicine Pocket opinion, but that's not what I care about.

My concern is that conversation is conversation and they're seriously offering to fuck me... Right now?

And in that snide tone of voice. And they're giving me something to think about.

Mommy, I'm going crazy. My ears are throbbing.

"Are you suggesting to me right now...?"

When they start smiling through my hand, I'm suddenly released.

This dog will drive me to the pen before old age or paperwork.

I take my hand away. Mine and theirs off my stomach. I wonder what they'll say.

"Why not? Especially since..."

"No."

"Hey, why not?"

Because the cancer on the mountain didn't whistle and the sky didn't burst into rainbows.

Forcibly, by the back of my head, I put them back on top of me. They pout, but they don't say anything. Still hoping their game will continue a little longer than my firm no.

"If I talked to you about dying now, and then offered to let you die, would you accept?"

"Ha-a, you're being dramatic again."

"Not at all."

I finger the white strands as Medicine intertwines our fingers. They're not sulking, no, not offended or disappointed by this conversation. Rather, all the accumulated stuff that was keeping them from thinking properly has come out of their soul.

When later they put their arms around my waist, pulling up my T-shirt, I don't protest, either. I just feel my fever rising again. We're both very tired, and I don't think anything good will come out of the business they suggests we try.

I chase thoughts of the conversation around in circles, staring out the darkness of the window. Their cold hands gradually warm against my skin, the fresh air from the ajar window mixing with our scents.

I don't feel disappointed by the conversation, but its abruptness doesn't let me go, nor does the warmth in my cheeks. I'm probably still red in the face.

And when their hints of what they're about to turn me into come into my head, I feel even worse.

I tuck us in with the blanket and close my eyes with the thought that someday this will come true until the knot in my stomach lets go.

"Good night."

Someday I'll answer them in the same coin.

I wanted to write this part faster, but there was no way the text wanted to flow until I wrote it in first person... It was something of a mess, and for the first few hours I was completely annoyed with how it turned out, until I sat down to edit. It came out well enough, it turns out. I also kept thinking I'd written too little, and when I sat down to edit, I realized I'd become my own enemy.

Anyway, there will be one more installment in this series (???) and then I'll be writing something separate. Hopefully the text will flow better there.

Thanks for reading!

[ilikekidsshows]

"Adrien using the wish" anon here again!

I was just thinking of the potential counter-argument based on rhetoric I've seen floating around, of "But because Adrien is so reliant on Marinette these days since he hardly has anyone else/lost both his parents (true), he'd be emotionally devastated to lose her (also true), so this means he'd...be willing to make the wish/wouldn't be able to handle life without her (ehhhh no)." Tempted to use the wish? Sure, I'd be surprised if he wasn't. Forever unable to live without her and/or willing to turn into the next Hawk Moth? Yeah, no.

Adrien being the next Hawk Moth only makes sense if you know nothing about the characters and decide to go with the most surface level 'like father like son' plot-line ever (which also explains why I see poorly executed 'villain! Chat Noir who sides with Hawk Moth' fics waaaay too often for my taste).

I know the idea that he'd be able to heal after losing her doesn't sound very "romantic" (I have different opinions on love and what's truly healthy and romantic but that's neither here not there), but...like I said before, he's already proven he can handle loss? If you give him enough time? If he coped with losing his mother with almost no support, something tells me he'd find ways to heal from losing Marinette, too. He does have a better support network now after all, such as it is. There's no reason why he couldn't even...find new friends and develop a new one, need be. Hell, I just remembered the boy has already said "if you wanted to dump me, I'd understand" in Illustrhater. Tell me that sounds like someone unable to move on from her.

Also sidenote, but being able to heal would be what's best for him as an individual (and a sign of character growth and a contrast with his villain father who very notably couldn't and wouldn't move on), but since that doesn't focus on Marinette being the center of the universe, I get why it's not popular with Marinette stans.

In before I'm wrong and the show has him trying to use the wish despite all evidence to the contrary, because only ~romantic love~ and/or Marinette truly matters apparently

Instead. To be honest, at this point I'm full on expecting something will happen to Adrien one day, something severe or even permanent, maybe caused by Marinette's lying or some other mistake, to the point she will try to use the wish. Parallels with Gabe and all that. Her already over the top and questionable behavior all in the name of not losing him, yadda yadda. Don't know if they'll go this route for sure, but...the foreshadowing/potential is there.

I laughed at "mouthy amphibian" btw. 🤣 Thank you so much for the response!!! And apologies this two part rant got so long, I've just been really annoyed by this and didn't want to keep silent any longer.

---

I totally get it. It's a complete misunderstanding of what Adrien's character stands for, the little bit of character growth he’s actually been allowed even as the writers try to drain anything interesting about him away to make him less popular. Frankly, with the writers' disregard of their characters’ personalities, their obvious disdain for the very idea of Adrien having concerns outside of Marinette and their very obvious belief that Marinette is the center of the universe, I would not be surprised if they actually did write Adrien unable to deal with losing Marinette. After all, the biggest concern of any sympathetic character should always be Marinette, unless them not prioritizing her is going to be milked for Marinette sympathy.

Realistically, in terms of what has been established about Adrien's character, he would be heartbroken to lose Marinette, but he could survive her and move on and find new happiness. However, also realistically, in terms of how the writers operate, Adrien's personality doesn't matter if they want to throw the ultimate pity party over how sad and pathetic everyone would be without the most amazing, wonderful Marinette. Ignore how a lot of them would be better off without her with how exhausting the writers made her to deal with.

If Adrien got to move on, the shippers would be so angry at him for “not loving Marinette enough”. There's this idea in media that moving on from loss is healthy as long as it's not the main romantic couple. Romantic couples should never move on, because that's more dramatic and so romanticized, just like codependency is so popular because it's more dramatic and so romanticized. And, like, I’m not saying I don't see the appeal, I enjoy the occasional codependent relationship in my media. But, that's just the thing: my media. I’m a grownass adult with critical thinking skills and emotional skills. I don't wanna see that shit romanticized in cartoons made for preschoolers with neither of those skills. Anything in between there is a case-by-case basis the parents should probably be responsible for depending on how much harmful behavior is being taught to youths and how mature the youths watching and reading that stuff are.

I used to call myself a Mudkip during my iconic “Mudkip with Juniper Lee hair” profile pic era in a cheeky “but what do I know, I’m just a Mudkip” way. I figured amphibian works, since, among my changing user pics, amphibians are the most common.

[nabi-unveiled]

Lol. I don't mind thoughts at all. I wouldn't have written it up if I did. 💙 I actually appreciate the engagement. It's what I love about the BL Tumblr community. So thank you for responding.

The Gaga subs actually do make a lot more sense to me. I'll remember to check there next time. That phrasing helped my brain get unstuck. Because that phrasing makes it about an action to take now rather than what Myungha may have done in the past. So even if he didn't have the opportunities to do it in the past, he could do it now and moving forward.

Also, I appreciate the effort it took to be polite about my touch aversion/categories. There was no need though. I've had decades to harden my skin. Seriously, it takes A LOT to offend me so never worry about that.

I'm well aware that I'm touch averse outside of a sexual relationship (where I'm not touch averse at all) or dancing (never tried to figured that one out, but touch doesn't bother me in that context either). My touch aversion is the source of many a joke in my extended family as there are a lot of huggers. "Touch Me Not" is one of my father's nicknames for me. He even typically fist bumps me instead of trying to shake my hand (which would be the community norm). I'm not really comfortable with the fist bump either, but I appreciate his effort to compromise and it's better than the alternatives.

Those three categories of hugs are just my personal categories - as in how I would classify a hug if I was physically involved myself. Consent for hugs is nonexistent in my community so I've put up with a lot of uncomfortable hugs over the years. That's why it has a category. It happens a lot.

I recognize that most people have more than 3 categories of hugs and normally I can figure out their purpose for other people. They're not my categories, but I can get the logic of it. My brother has been very patient with his "robot" sister over the years to explain. He taught me people. I taught him math. Well, I tried. That was a lost cause really.

I'm aware that most people touch just as a type of closeness, and that just like an arm slung over the shoulders, any type of touch can be very casual for most people. My brother hugs everyone for seemingly no reason at all other than they exist in the world. Lol. One of my children does too. We're all different in many ways.

I probably would count the coworker with a bad day and niece as social norm hugs for me. Maybe not "obligatory", but the "I care about the person and they asked/needed it" type of hug. I would be uncomfortable but hug them anyway. Because at that point, their needs would be more important than my needs.

All that to say, that typically, I can figure out why a hug is happening on screen even if it doesn't align with one of my categories. This will probably sound really weird, but I've worked VERY hard to try and figure out how to read other people and learn how other people think so that I don't accidentally hurt their feelings or make them uncomfortable. I don't always succeed, but I try. I overthink almost every interaction in real life. I'm already second guessing whether the "there's no need" earlier could come across too blunt.

I just couldn't figure out how that hug answered the question. It stumped me, and I haven't had that happen in a long time. The different subtitles definitely helped. Thank you so much! Hopefully I can continue my watch later tonight. 💖

P.S. I could write a whole other essay on prolonged eye contact. That's the reason my nieces think I'm scary, and that I easily intimidate people. I "stare" and make very direct eye contact. There's several reasons for that though, and it's unlikely to change. It's ALSO not an intimacy thing for me although I recognize it is for others.

So I started the third episode of Love for Love's Sake DAYS ago, but I got stuck. I'm giving up. Any help would be appreciated.

Because this scene here...

I don't understand. at. all.

As a somewhat awkward personal confession, I don't understand hugs. I say things like "I just want to hug them" or "they need a hug" frequently when watching shows, but it's just a popular phrase to convey they need comfort. I also really enjoy seeing good hugs on screen between couples. But I don't actually "get" hugs the way most people seem to process them.

Hugs fall in three categories for me:

Sexual - The only type of hug I actually understand. Probably my enjoyment of on-screen hugs between couples comes from associating it here. I'm very huggy with my partner, but it's 100% sexual.

Social Obligation - There are times I know cognitively that I'm supposed to hug, and I've prepared myself for it. I hug my kids daily, because I know mothers are supposed to hug. I want to minimize any trauma I cause them as much as possible. I hug my dad on his birthday and Father's day, because I know it's important to him. I also know you hug people if someone dies or people are crying. Eesh..this sounds really bad typing it out. Anyways, I logically know that there are times that hugs are expected by others due to social norms or that the people I care about need them for some reason.

Uncomfortable - All other hugs (and most uninvited touch), I find HIGHLY uncomfortable. This includes if someone is trying to comfort me. If you want to comfort me, do NOT touch me.

So, this hug in LFLS...I don't get it. It's not sexual. It's not really comfort...is it? It's not a social expectation. How does this hug answer the question of "how did you live?".

I paused so I could think about it as I had a work meeting anyways, but I've never went back. Because I still haven't figured it out, and my brain is refusing to move forward.

My only thought was that it was trying to say he lived by caring about other people. But that doesn't make a lot of sense with what I know of Myungha's life so far. I mean, he did care about Yeowoon in "the story", but it didn't seem like he had a lot of people in his "real" life. Again, I'm only in episode 3.

I finally reached out to my brother as I always do when I can't process. He's very much a feeling, huggy type. For those that enjoy the bunk that is MBTI designations - I'm ISTP. He's ENFP. He delights in torturing me with hugs on the rare occasions we get to meet up. I'm sure I'll take a lot of sibling shade in our next phone call for overthinking a hug.

He answered "It's supposed to convey that they got through with help from others and companionship. It's the idea that they aren't actually alone and that they have someone there who supports them. It could also be a "love got me through" thing. Even without others, love wins all."

Which is sort of like my original thought. So was that correct? Is that what "like this" means in this context?

Ugh. I may just have to force myself to hit play and hope my brain decides to move on too.

[a-big-apple]

if someone's trying to really beef up a character's voice, what advice would you have for them (in general or in TLT in particular)? what are some major voice missteps you've seen esp given your extremely thorough reading of the series👀

jeej u always ask the most interesting questions!! i feel like in general, for me, i'm pretty good with remembering and recognizing voices (like, how they actually sound) and good at remembering iconic lines. so when i'm trying to write a specific pov, i'll sometimes revisit examples of the tone i'm going for by watching bits if it's a show, or listening to bits of the audiobooks for TLT, and then as i'm writing and editing i'll kind of read everything back to myself in that character's voice.

but that's a particular skill i have that may not be more broadly useful, so...in general, some of the things that stand out to me are vocabulary, register (like how formal or informal), and demeanor.

so for example, gideon has a really large vocabulary, and she uses big and/or obscure words for specific effect, usually to needle harrow, but not as much in everyday speech. she's also often crude, and she'll use slang, and she uses humor to defuse and disguise rather than speaking seriously very often, so when she's being honest and frank it has a big effect. her internal monologue isn't very formal, and neither is her speech most of the time, but the formality might increase when she's kiriona, for instance!

whereas harrow speaks very formally and precisely, might not use as many contractions (almost everybody uses contractions in normal speech and it sticks out when someone doesn't, this is a bugaboo of mine, but harrow does genuinely sometimes go super formal), and uses her own big vocabulary in her regular dialogue a lot more often. she's used to oratory, she's the leader of a religious order, she's pretty good at stringing together a speech whether it's intended to inspire or to tear somebody down.

then you've got somebody like camilla, who doesn't speak much but has a very dry humor when she does, and is more likely to truncate or leave off unnecessary words, making her come off kind of brusque. she waits to talk until she has something necessary or important to say, but she knows how to tease. she's fairly informal, but she can slide into an academic register very easily, and she almost always calls everyone, even palamedes, by their title instead of their name.

sentence structure can come into this too, for narration from a particular pov! gideon is observant but also sometimes misses things or doesn't have all the information, her narration might include more questions or commentary to herself. harrow is intellectual and scheming and sometimes super unsure, so she might have longer and more convoluted sentence structure in her narration. cam is super straightforward, so her narration might be full of observations and thoughts and feelings that she keeps to herself, but with more short sentences, a more clipped rhythm that matches her speaking style.

other things that can sometimes rub me wrong or stick out are endearments and nicknames! there are some characters who will make up names for people and keep using them (gideon) and some who will almost always use a respectful title or name (cam) and some people who throw endearments at everyone willy nilly (cytherea and augustine come to mind). if a character has a canon endearment or set of endearments that they default to, or specific ones for specific people, it really helps keep the voice in character to keep using those. harrow uses beloved for alecto, and it means something when that transfers to gideon in fic in place of griddle, or just her name. pyrrha uses kiddie, and six million other things, but only with nona and later a bit with kiriona. ianthe and coronabeth both flirt with nicknames that the objects of their attention either despise or don't seem to allow from anyone else (harry, jody, millie). gideon uses all her wild thesaurus superlatives for harrow, but when it's a crisis moment and she's showing her heart, she uses honey.

this is just my personal pet peeve i think, but love/baby/babe are SO overused as defaults, when there are so many good opportunities to either use something that the character does say in canon, or find something unique that fits the character and the relationship in the fic. and imo, these should always be used sparingly and for specific emotional effect, unless you've got a character like pyrrha who i think always uses nicknames for nona. (frankly, griddle is very cute but harrow doesn't actually use it as much as fic wants her to)

so i guess, tl;dr advice is to relisten/rewatch/reread the voice of the character you're trying to get into, and think about the way they say things and the way they present themself, and take note of any quirks they have that can be put to good use later!

[telesodalite]

Woe, unfinished, mildly edited, fulfire fic tid-bits be upon you

-

Like a magnet, his optics kept drifting back to Misfire's face. His stupid, strangely charming face.

For a short while, after Clemency, it had been that face that haunted some of his nightmares. His recalls blurring the lines between the strange reality of Misfire's hands reaching into him to lock his fuel pump back into the very spot he'd pulled it from, and the fear that just as easily he could pull it out again. They had been bloody dreams. Dreams that had him startling awake, gripping his chest in the vain attempt to close what wasn't open, before spending the rest of the day avoiding Misfire's optics.

But now things were different. Not Misfire's face. No, that hadn't changed much. But Fulcrum's dreams had definitely changed. To say the least of what all rolled around in his processor as he slept nowadays.

Some of those newer dreams had crept to the forefront of his mind as he sat there on the couch, staring as the lights of the screen reflected dully across Misfire's plating in hazy blues and greys.

The lighting made his colors seem muddy and faded, but Fulcrum didn't really care, nor did he care to think what it made himself look like. He was too busy bringing an empty engex can to his lips while he watched the crinkle of Misfire's nose as he barked a laugh at something Fulcrum didn't catch onscreen.

He'd started noticing it months ago, all the ways the silvery mesh of Misfire's face would scrunch up with his emotions. Those little crinkles along his optics and nose when he laughed or glared. The creases indented along his cheeks when he grinned. Fulcrum found himself quietly logging away these little details. Idle notes and observations that had suddenly started piling up in the corners of his processer.

He… He'd never really done that before? He'd never really noticed those sorts of things in other mechs.

The faces and expressions of his past colleagues never seemed terribly important. All the details of every smile and frown were never worth filing away, outside of few notable moments where those expressions reflected his work performance. But besides the smile that meant promotion, and the frown that meant he'd screwed up, nothing else was noticeable. Nothing was worth remembering.

But now the memory of every genuine laugh that bubbled out of Misfire sat comfortably besides memories of warm joyful optics that Fulcrum found himself collecting every time Crankcase cracked a rare half-smile for him, or when Krok placed a reassuring hand against his back, or the times Spinister spontaneously pointed out something odd but ultimately nice about his stupid frame.

He didn't really know why he was doing it, memorizing all these mundane little things, just to have them flit through his processer randomly. Maybe it was because those expressions, those details, felt… comforting? Comforting in such a strange and unfamiliar way. But, a good way. A good sort of strange, much like the mechs themselves.

-

-

He had stared for a long moment, the credits and their rolling tune playing somewhere in the background as Fulcrum stared back. But Misfire was never one for personable silence, even as the sound of some likely long dead Iaconian orchestra filled the room.

"What is it?" He asked, a small chuckle escaping him as he brought a hand to his face, "Don't tell me I've poured it all over myself again."

It had taken Fulcrum longer than usual to unstick his glossa from the roof of his mouth as he watched Misfire run a thumb over his lips, but eventually he had coughed out a small, choked, "No."

That had earned him an odd look at first, but with their fields loose and open, Fulcrum could almost feel the exact moment something clicked in Misfire's mind, as the idle comfortable static he projected in pulsing waves evened out into something openly curious and almost subdued.

It wasn't often Fulcrum felt him that clearly.

Misfire tended to keep his field fairly close, though, maybe not as close as the others did, what with how Crankcase kept an iron grip on his, and how Krok's always held an air of strained control, even when it slipped from him. But still, Misfire's was always hard to read, no matter the reach or depth of his field.

Even then and there, with it loose and unfiltered and buzzing with the engex running through his system, there was an ever present undertone of something indescribably jumbled about him, like too many feelings at once, each too vast and hurried for Fulcrum to really feel or understand.

It always seemed to stir the passive anxiety Fulcrum must've been forged with when Misfire's field brushed against his own. As facing the indescribable vague mess of Misfire felt like trying to untangle a pile of live-wires he couldn't even see.

It was almost frustrating in a sense, the need to try and sort and understand what wasn't even his to begin with. But at the same time it was almost exciting as well. It was like a game, like a puzzle he had yet to solve.

-

-

Finally letting his own can go tumbling to the floor to join Misfire's, Fulcrum had brought a hand to cover his face as he drew his legs up and leaned back against the arm of the couch, trying to suppress the fit as the sly look slipped from Misfire's face at the sounds.

While Fulcrum had laughed, and… snorted, embarrassingly, he had felt Misfire's field change again, brushing something fizzy and almost warm against his plating as Misfire's features softened.

"I'm looking at you," Fulcrum had said then between gulps of air, letting his hand fall from his face as he reached out to poke at Misfire's chest, "Dumbaft."

His finger had lingered over the thick plating there for maybe a little longer than necessary, drawing Misfire's attention as it slid down a little before pulling away.

Looking back up again with his helm angled slightly, Misfire had followed the sight of his hand leaving his plating to where Fulcrum let it fall between them.

"Wow…" Misfire had chuckled a little dryly, "I was gonna make it real easy for you. I was going to say something like, ''Do you like what you see?'' or-… or something like that. But now you've ruined it. Good job."

Meeting Fulcrum's optics again as he pulled his own hand back from Fulcrum's shoulder, he brought it to rest between them as well.

"And you're laughing at me," He said next, faking a small pout as his hand drifted closer to Fulcrum's, "Which totally ruins the whole vibe I was going for really. I mean, it's sort of hard to be all nice and suave-like when you're being laughed at. Total vibe killer. Bit of an ego killer too if I'm being honest. So thanks for that loser, thanks for saying I have a funny face."

With Misfire's fingers brushing distractingly past his own, Fulcrum didn't think before the words stumbled out of him.

"I like your face."

It came out almost matter of fact sounding, Fulcrum's laughter having died down while Misfire complained about it. But at the same time the words felt so simple, they came out so easily, and in a weird way they felt nice to say. But Misfire's optics had widened in surprise, his frame frozen and his field suddenly struck quiet, and despite the engex numbing his usual nerves, Fulcrum felt a sudden pang of anxiety because of it.

The silence in Misfire's field was terribly alien. It felt wrong, and something in Fulcrum spiraled to think he had caused it. But slowly, almost as if it were creeping forward, an odd almost scrutinizing uncertainty fanned outward in a careful wave. Misfire moved with it, leaning closer as he searched Fulcrum's expression for something.

"Oh yeah?" He'd said lowly then, and that sly look returned. But that vague uncertainty didn't fade with it, if anything, Fulcrum felt it strengthen. Caught between what he saw, in Misfire's easy smile and dimmed optics, and what he felt, in the growing hollow distance within their fields, Fulcrum found himself frowning and pulling back.

-

-

Growing frustrated with himself, and wanting that feeling back, he had pushed forward, shifting onto his knees as he reached for Misfire's face before the other could pull away from him entirely.

"I like your face." He said firmly, maybe too firmly. His expression still drawn into a frown as he pressed his fingers into Misfire's helm, brushing his thumbs across the silver mesh he'd been staring so intently at before. "I like your optics, and your nose. I- I like the way you smile. When you really smile, and when you laugh. I do. I'm not lying."

And oh there it was again, that little curl of warmth in Misfire's field. Almost a tangible thing, like a brush of ventilation, but Misfire wasn't venting. His mouth hung open ever so slightly, but no breath left him as he stared at Fulcrum with widening optics.

Spurred on by that tiny bloom of warmth, Fulcrum chased after it with slightly slurred words and clumsy hands as he tried to fix whatever he'd done wrong, hoping with each word that Misfire might soften and smile again.

"I like your expressions, and- and I like your voice," He said, glancing down at Misfire's parted lips, and laughing softly, nervously, as he continued, "Even when you say something so stupid. I like- I like the way it sounds. I like your accent, I like the way it makes your words sound. I- I like your- your mouth?"

Once more that weird but nice feeling settled in Fulcrum's chest. Those simple words felt good to say. It felt like a weight off his shoulders, like an admission he'd been waiting to say. About what and why? He wasn't really sure. But the warmth grew, and Misfire took a sharp vent inwards, and that felt right, so Fulcrum kept on.

"I like your helm," He said with a smile, reaching up to brush his fingers over the jutting finials there, before dropping his hands to settle lightly over Misfire's chest. "I like your frame, the colors of it. I like your-"

Before he could finish, Misfire was surging forward, knocking their helms together and nearly bruising the mesh of their noses as he tried for, and just barely missed, Fulcrum's lips.

-

👁👁👍

[longagoitwastuesday]

Every day I am haunted by the fact JJK could be amazing but it will be just idk Bleach or something

[buttercup-art]

hey

[tanicus-caesareth]

guarana drama, damage control

[iamthepulta]

if I'm super daring over spring break, I could try and finish a draft of the LAU finale.... I have a good 40% of it written, I just have the finale-finale conversation, and then the epilogue. Roughly three chapters.

If I apply all my writing tricks for three days and the brain works properly, I could probably pull draft 1 together.