#carrot processing lines

[allroundvp]

There are four different carrot processing lines you can choose from at Allround. Each of these lines can be customized to meet your requirements and to perfectly suit your production facility. With us, you are ensured of high-end equipment that meets your requirements in terms of processing speed, capacity, and more.

[darlingofdots]

the vast majority of fanworks are bad, and that's fine, actually. they are bad for the same reason that the average number of legs for a human person to have is less than two: statistics. like with all endeavours and especially creative ones, most people who write fanfiction or draw art of their favourite characters are bad at it. if you line up all the crochet projects in the world, most of them will be, well, bad. some are bad because they're the first thing a person ever made, or the second or third or tenth, and this kind of thing takes practice. others are bad because the person who made them is just not very good at it. maybe they just learned how to make granny squares and they're perfectly happy to never expand or improve on that. most people who dance or bake or garden or braid hair are not amazing at it! and you'd never go to your kid's dance recital or eat your friend's homemade carrot cake and expect the same experience as you'd have at a professional ballet performance or award-winning bakery. And that's if we assume there is an objective measure of Good Art, which there isn't! Some art is just "bad" because you don't like it!

I think though that specifically with fanfiction, we sometimes forget that when we read a book or watch a movie, dozens of people have looked at it and given feedback and made changes and done quality control before the final product reaches our shelves or screens, and that's not counting the original writer's learning process and past experience. A published book is not anyone's first crochet project, even if it is their debut novel. But with fanfiction, the barrier to entry is so low (on purpose! this is a good thing!) that we do get to see a lot of wonky granny squares, and on sites like AO3 they're sitting on the same shelf as the hand-made silk lace wedding dress and you can't always tell just by looking at it which is which. The consequence of this is that we encounter fic that we think is unpolished, has bad punctuation, is out of character, and we are tempted to think "well, this is awful! how dare this person put this wonky granny square on the same shelf as the lace wedding dress!" But that's not how fandom is supposed to work! That wonky granny square is somebody who is really excited about this TV show they just watched and they are reaching out into the void to share their excitement with you. To scoff at them for not making a lace wedding dress is really, really rude. Even if they did make a lace wedding dress, maybe it's just really not your style, or you think they should have used a different pattern, and it's still their wedding dress. You don't have to wear the dress and you don't have to read the fic.

We all know that there is some fanfic out there that is incredible. I think it's important to talk about that! But the vast majority of people who post their writing online are just sharing their little hobby projects that they make for fun and I also think it's important to remember that.

[thalwri]

sticky 'n wet - sylus

synopsis: your agitating ex tries to disrupt your peace again, but he doesn't realise sylus is around. and neither of you realise that your working together to finally get rid of your ex would bring you much closer.

warnings: heavy smut, dry humping, strip tease, riding, creampies, shower sex, couch sex, petnames (kitten, sweetie, sweetheart), squirting, messy and very wet

word count: 5,6k

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

“where are you off to, kitten?”

you turned on your heel, seconds away from fuming. “i told you to stop calling me that.” 

there had been incessant knocking torturing your door to your apartment. somehow you’ve been letting sylus stay in your place for weeks on end while he occasionally disappeared to the n109 zone for his usual business.

between your tether to him being more intense than usual, and the recent events you’d been going through, you couldn’t tell whether you were grateful for his presence or felt more at peace when he wasn’t around for a brief time.

it had been five minutes. you wouldn’t really think that the knocking was bad but realistically if someone knocked at your door without a break and did it very loudly even without a response, then that would be concerning.

sylus found it irritating in the least, but had the tolerance to ignore it until the relentless fool disappeared on their own. he watched you walk to the door and look into the peep hole. your breath hitched as you stumbled back, covering your mouth with both hands before quickly dropping them to your sides.

“what is it?”

“my ex.” your voice dropped to a monotone line, your body still on the door in front of you. sylus groaned, pinching his brows but he had to admit he wasn’t surprised.

your break up wasn’t revolutionary and chaotic so to speak, but it wasn’t peaceful either. he had been there for you through the process, he didn’t even have to calm you down so he had thought you’d breeze through it and give him more of your attention.

until you started crying.

apparently, the fool had gotten with another woman just weeks after your split and that broke you. so two months following that, sylus had spent his hours of quality time with you helping you recover and move on all while plotting all the crude and illegal things he could do to that insect to avenge you. 

he had thought to impale the guy with a fork, or peel off his skin with a carrot peeler, and make a stew out of him so that if anyone investigated, they’d eat the evidence. hannibal style. if he ever told you that, you would most likely be disgusted.

sylus rose to his feet in solemn silence and gently moved you away from the door. “i’ll handle it, kitten.”

“sylus–“

“i’ll handle it.” the depth his voice had lowered to was an instant indication that you could no longer try to interfere. whatever he was about to do, you could only pray it wasn’t going to get him arrested.

you turned away, pinching the corners of your eyes as the door opened for sylus to be greeted by yelling.

“what took you so long to answer– who are you?”

“the owner of this apartment. who in this bereft city are you?” well, being the owner, so to speak, was a lie. technically you owned it– but sylus began to actually live and function there more than you had in the last few months.

just looking at the bastard in person began to irk him. sylus wholeheartedly believed you could do far better than you had but he knew better than to lose his chances of being especially close to you by questioning your judgement. he was not interested in fighting you for your attention for he knew that you truly were drawn to him.

how could you not be attracted to each other especially after all you’ve gone through together?

sylus looked your ex up and down in disgust and scoffed out a laugh. “what are you doing here? this is the last time i’ll ask.”

“where is my girlfriend?” your ex grumbled, attempting to look over sylus’ body by standing on the tips of his toes. you intuitively stepped back before you stopped. would you really let this happen over and over again? being tormented like this?

not again.

“she’s not–“ sylus began to ball his hands into fists as he spoke before you held him to calm him down.

“it’s okay,” you gave him a grateful smile, patting his chest for him to step back. “i told you to stop calling and coming to my apartment.”

“i just wanted to talk–“ 

“you lost your chance, so do me a favour and screw yourself to another planet before i feed you to the fucking wanderers. we’re over. for a reason. and here’s no turning back from that. so leave.”

“but–“

“out.”

“no, i–“

the sound of a gun– your gun– cocked, you felt a tall figure looming over you oozing murderous energy. sylus aimed the gun directly at your ex’s head.

“you heard my woman,” he snarled, trying his best to hide his prideful smirk. you felt your ears warm. look at you, standing on your own feet against vermin-like that ex of yours. “get out.”

“who do you think you are?” your ex scoffed, sorely attempting to push out his chest to seem confident. 

“he is my boyfriend,” you stepped forward, pushing your ex back by pointing your finger at him with each statement you make until he’s out of the doorway. “he is my man, he is what matters to me now, and you are nothing to me. so get out and stay out of my life before i kill you with my bare hands.”

and with that, you slam the door shut, locking the door quickly. you leaned against the door, catching empty air while your heart rate slowed down from the nerves. you heard sylus chuckle and put your gun down.

“that was impressive, sweetie.” you groaned in your hands, intentionally avoiding his gaze. you called him your boyfriend. your man. and he called you his woman. you’d be lying if you said you didn’t find that nice to say, but still!

“look at me,” his voice, both soothing and arousing compelled you to listen to him. you removed your hands from your eyes and looked sylus in the eye.

“i suppose you’re satisfied.” you sighed in exhaustion, you felt so drained from talking to that ex of yours. a snack would be doing wonders at this time.

“i’m proud of you,” he smiled– a rarity from sylus but fully appreciated nonetheless. “standing your ground, defending your privacy, referring to me as your man–“

“you’re terrible,” you choked out a laugh, slapping his abdomen. 

“i’m divine, kitten, and you know it.”

you weren’t going to deny that. especially after being trapped in his homestead, after getting to know him, along with seeing a great many parts of him. he was an attractive man, that was undeniable. 

his wit, intelligence, and sense of control during missions and operations within onychinus and how he spends time with you are all things you’d grown to admire about him. you adored him and felt rather enamoured by the things he does. the things he does to you.

within the last month, you’d seen him in ways that you should have deemed inappropriate. watching exit the shower, water dripping down the lines of his abdomen and disappearing within the towel wrapped around his waist. with his grey lashes holding small droplets above his deliciously terrifying crimson eyes of his.

how his chest always looked larger every time you saw him, or how you’d intentionally bend down with your ass in the air when he was within your proximity. something at the time you thought as harmless. but now you’re standing before him and you felt a new wave of need.

whether it was from what he said or the fact that he was ready to kill for you, you didn’t know. but now you were feeling restless.

“sylus,”

he breathed out your name in response, almost as though he was holding in some pent in energy. you could feel energy swirling in your heart as you watched his eye twitch. the same eye that held his part of the aether core. were you resonating without touching each other?

“thank you,” you began, struggling to find your words. “for earlier.”

“anything for you, sweetie.” he stepped closer to you, making you tilt your neck slightly to meet his gaze. “including covering for your pretty ass whenever your missions went sideways because of that creature of an ex.”

you stifled a laugh through the noise of your aether tethered heart rapidly beating. watching his lips curve, purse, and move as he spoke, watching his eyes kind of lighten just from speaking with you… you just couldn’t take your eyes off him.

“you just can’t seem to take your eyes off me or stop thinking about me, can you kitten?” he smirked, placing his hand beneath your chin. “it would only be fair for me to admit i have had the same sentiment, but for much longer than i’d like to admit.”

“then do something about it,” you brashly whispered, feeling your patience wear thin. this was the closest chance you had at doing something with him without fear. “you’ve got your chance, so use it.”

“oh?” that irritating yet attractive chuckle filled the room other than whatever was playing on the tv. you could just feel your clit tingle from it. “is kitten baring her claws again?”

you gripped the collar of his dress shirt, harshly pulling him close to you– his lips less than a breath away from yours. “this kitten is baring her teeth, and telling sylus she wants him.”

that seemed to be the perfect buzzword. before you knew it, his lips had crashed into yours, his arms wrapped around your torso, and if you weren’t mistaken a short moan had escaped his lips. there was barely a moment for you to absorb the kiss, as you had already begun to peel each other’s clothing off from the jackets to the shirts and eventually the pants. 

you pushed sylus onto the couch and straddled him, his hands held the back of your thighs pushing you up more towards him as your lips danced and tugged away in both passion and desire. he dropped you onto his lap, subtly introducing you to the growing bulge beneath you. it felt so big. you gasped as he began to grind against your clothed pussy, his hands reaching for your ass and tits to fondle and squeeze.

“i want you,” sylus whispered, momentarily stopping to lock his crimson eyes on yours in seriousness. “and i have you. do you want us to continue. we’ll stop if you aren’t ready.”

you smiled in gratitude for his concern for you. “i’m ready, sylus. i’m ready for you–” before you could finish your sentence, your lips are locked in a chaste kiss, your groins meeting each other through relentless grinds and your heavy sighs and soft whines competing with the television’s noise.

you wanted to truly show sylus how much you appreciated all that he has done for you in the past month so you slowly pulled yourself away, gently pushing him back when his lips followed and rose to your feet. 

“stand up,” sylus rose without question, hiding his curiosity with a ‘hmph’. “take off your underwear.”

he raised an eyebrow, his ruby eyes glistened with excitement. “and what about you, kitten? don’t you think this is a little bit unfair?”

“i want to give you a show,” you tug at the hem of his black briefs, which had a wet spot marked around his erection. the more you looked at the shape of his cock, the more you realised just how big he was. you could feel both your mouth and pussy water at that sight alone.

“i think i’m the one entertaining you right now,” in a swift move, he pulled down his briefs and kicked them aside. his cock bounced free and stood so tall and proud, his tip was reddened and shining with leaky precum leaving a mess on his lower abdomen. 

“don’t be shy,” he smirked, taking your hand in his and placing it on his cock. it was so warm and so hard, you couldn’t help yourself from stroking it. sylus closed his eyes, letting out a shaky sigh as you pumped his cock from the base to the tip stopping to circle your finger lightly over his slit.

“h-ha, kitten, that’s- oh,” you dragged your precum glistened finger down a large vein that travelled to the base then removed your hand. still in a slight daze from your touch, sylus didn’t hear what you said.

“i’m gonna give you a little show,” you boldly repeated, grabbing his face with a hand to give him a chaste kiss, swiping your tongue briefly across his lips before he could react. you stepped back to create some distance between the two of you to give him a bit of a sight to see. 

sylus laughed and plopped himself back onto the couch, spreading his legs to give you constant access to his throbbing, twitching, leaky cock. his hand was wrapped around the shaft, slowly stroking it as translucent drops leaked from his tip. seeing him in his nude, blatant glory brought a flood of heat rush over your body and settle in your clit– which was rudely rubbing against the fabric of your underwear.

“don’t get cold feet now, sweetie,” sylus breathed, his chest beginning to heave and sweat. you’d barely gotten to do what you wanted. 

“best you be patient.” you scoffed, unclasping your bra, slowly peeling the straps down each shoulder. you turned making your back face him and peeled off your bra and tossed it towards him. 

sylus’ hands were long gone from his hard, throbbing cock to catch your bra. he set it on his thigh, resting on the couch arms spread wide intrigued to see what else you had in store for him. “continue, kitten. my patience is wearing thin.”

you slowly turned to face him again, saving your final reveal for much later. you swayed your way back to him and sat on his lap, carefully pressing his cock against his abdomen with your body. his breath hitched at the friction from your underwear rubbing against his sensitive flesh. his warm precum began to soak your panties, but not as much as your pussy was.

you held his cock against you and adjusted your positioning so that you could ride the length of him. going back and forth against him, the raw friction of fabric against sensitive skin sent sylus into a frenzy, gripping the sides of the couch as he watched you basically dry hump him when he should be deep inside you.

“kitten,” he gritted, holding back a guttural groan. you responded with a lascivious moan, almost vibrating from the stimulation from just dry riding his cock. sylus’ hands flew to your hips and lifted you up with just a fraction of his strength. his cock flew back and hit his abs with a soft plap! 

“i’m growing impatient,” he lowly whispered, his eyes slowly darkening with desire and arousal. he was in no position to play along with you anymore. he was ready to fuck you good. “so i’m going to ask you again. are you ready for us to continue?”

you ferociously nodded, holding his face in your hands engulfing him in another kiss. you invited his tongue into your mouth to explore and savour you, occasionally greeting it with your own. as you felt yourself sinking into the kiss, you felt your pantie get moved aside before a long finger slid into you. you gasped momentarily before sylus caught your lips again, swallowing your eventual moan as his finger curled inside you.

“answer the question.”

“yes, sylus, i’m ready for you,” you panted. “i’m ready.”

and with that, sylus did not hold back further. his finger pumped into your wet pussy in slow rhythm before pushing a second in. your body trembled at the feeling, tensing as his fingers pumped deeper into you whilst curling to find that special area of yours.

“so wet,” he commented, pecking kisses along your neck. “soaking through your pretty underwear just for me. imagine how much harder i’m getting just from watching you.”

you didn’t even think it was possible for that to happen. a third finger slid in right as you were about to respond, pulling a deep moan out of you. being stretched out like this was not new, but with sylus it gave a more delicious sting.

“don’t squirm, sweetie,” he purred, curving all three digits in you again. “this is necessary if you want my cock to fit in well without hurting you.”

you couldn’t say much other than nod. getting so mindless over his fingers was worrying. what would his cock feel like? 

sylus slowly removed his fingers, watching how your slick nectar connected to each one before slowly licking it off one of his fingers whilst locking his eyes on you. such an erotic tease. he rubbed his other– still slick– fingers on your lips, painting them in your wetness. you slowly opened your mouth and leaned your head forward to take his fingers in.

“fuck,” he whispered, feeling his cock twitch at the sight. he pushed his fingers in and out of your mouth, watching your tongue clean him up slipping and swirling around him. he just imagined what it would be like to fuck your pretty mouth until you were drooling with his cum.

“me,”

“what?”

“fuck me, sylus.” you gave him a look of determination and need. that was all he had to hear. a loud rriiiiiip snapped you out of your daze, and a light draft fanned at your ass. 

“sylus!”

“hmm?” he smiled, pulling off your now shredded underwear from your body.

“that was my favourite set!” you pouted, even though you were heavily attracted to that move from him.

“you know i’ll get you new ones,” sylus scoffed, moving your hips to align your pussy with the tip of his cock. he knew you were on the pill. how? he accompanied you to get them and pestered you whenever you forgot. he adored you but he also cared immensely for your wellbeing.

“i love that you wore that set today,” he grinned looking up at you and pecked your nipples before gently suckling them for a few seconds. “love the red.” he paused, wanting to ask you once more for confirmation.

you nodded before he could ask. “i’m good and ready when you are– o-oh,”

his tip prodded at your entrance and was welcomed with slick warmth sucking him into you. he stopped half way in, slowly breathing to be accustomed to the feeling of your pussy clamping on his cockhead so tightly he almost came on the spot. you had let out a gasp at the feeling, clutching his shoulders with your nails.

“are you alright?” he asked. beads of sweat began to form on his forehead. you nodded. “let’s continue.”

slowly, you sank down onto him swallowing his cock, intentionally squeezing him to watch him squirm and moan from your tightness. you gently laughed, giving away your teasing which sylus quickly caught onto. he scoffed out a laugh and bucked his hips up to yours, ramming the rest of his cock into you with just a bit still outside. 

you moaned from the instantaneous move, barely recovering from it when that evil grey haired man began to thrust into you, pulling his cock in and out gradually increasing his pace. your arms wrapped around his shoulders as you tried to follow his pace, riding him to meet his hips whenever he thrusted up into you.

“oh fuck, kitten your pussy is so tight,” he moaned, pushing deeper and harder into you. your eyes crossed feeling like he reached a spot you didn’t realise existed. “must have hit your g-spot, hm? oh, baby you feel so good around me”

you could barely respond, overwhelmed by the new wave of pleasure you were receiving. hearing his sexy noises while fucking his cock into you was bringing you faster to your climax than your vibrator ever had. and all so quickly too. but it seemed he was also drawing near to cumming too.

“just– ah, fuck– so tight!” he could barely swallow his whines as your hips meet faster and harder. “that tight pussy’s about to make me cum, kitten. g-gosh fuck me– you see what you do to me?”

rendered speechless, you could only nod. and it only took a few more thorough thrusts before you spasmed all over his cock, throwing your head back as you climaxed. just seconds after, a gush of hot, cum flowed into your pussy, making you so weak in the knees you couldn’t move. sylus fuck his cum into you, moaning your name. 

despite that brief finish, you both knew you wanted more.

“again,” his voice rumbled in demand. you rasped your agreement, about to move when an idea came to your mind. 

“sylus,”

“mm.”

“let’s go to the shower.”

he looked up at you with a raised brow. “you feel dirty already? kitten, we’ve barely started.”

“no, you crow,” you smacked his large chest in irritation. “i mean, let’s continue in the shower.”

sylus momentarily paused, blankly staring at you. you always wondered what went through his mind when he did that. in that instance, he rose to his feet carrying you while his cock was still lodged in your pussy. not only that, he was still alarmingly hard despite cumming already, 

“you didn’t think i’d be done after such a small round, did you?” he grinned. “we’re just getting started.” you didn’t know whether to be afraid or dangerously aroused more than before.

you went through your bedroom to your bathroom, where sylus eventually set you to your feet. his cum began to slowly ooze out of you, travelling down your legs and painting them in the evidence of the mess that would have been made on your couch.

the bathroom began to steam slightly as the water ran. a large hand was held out for you– sylus offering it for you to join him. as you entered, your lips were immediately occupied with his, tied in a dance of need and insatiable greed that only the two of you could soothe for each other.

“you’re so perfect, sylus,” you sighed on his lips. “you’ve always been so great, such an amazing person in my life.” you kissed him again. “just want to show you how grateful i am for you.”

“you already have,” he pecked your cheeks. “just by being in my life.”

your kisses, gradually intensified as you touched each other, stimulating your needs before sylus gently moved you against the glass wall of the shower and picked you up hooking your legs over his shoulders and pressing your weight on the glass to keep you in place.

he gently lowered you back into him, instantly filling you up with his cock again. each time felt like it had gotten thicker. sylus regained proper footing on the wet tiles, slowly thrusting up into you before his pace quickened, going faster and harder until your pretty tits bounced from the sheer force of being fucked against the glass shower wall. 

and that wasn’t near how fast he planned to plough your sweet pussy. he had so much more in store for you. so much he’d been waiting to do. control was no longer a word in his vocabulary.

“ooh, just– fuck– just– just like that sy– so good!” you hiccuped, gripping onto his hair with one hand and scratching his nape with the other. 

through the fog, you could see your reflection, his back muscles flexing and shining in sweat along with the heat, his light grey hair flattened and drenched sticking to his flushed skin, his lips so tantalisingly close to your ear, huffing out praises and moans all while nibbling at your flesh.

“how are you still so tight, kitten?” he purred, pounding into you like his life depended on it. his hands tightly gripped your thighs indenting marks onto them, another sign of him marking his territory. “gonna fuck you so deep ‘n paint you with my cum.”

thrust after thrust his cock travelled deeper and deeper into you than it had earlier, pounding your weeping cunt so much that the squelches from a mixture your slick wetness and his cum became louder than the sound of your shower. sylus slowly pulled his cock back until his cockhead peeked out then slammed himself back up into you, finding that carnal spot of yours again. your eyes instantly crossed upon the impact, ripping a raw cry from deep within your throat.

“you sound like music,” he groaned, you could feel him smiling against your neck as he licked and suckled multiple rude, disrespectful bruises onto your skin. marking you as his and his alone for all of linkon and the n109 to see. “beautiful melody for just me to hear, sweetie.” he drew back and pulled out of you slowly and thrust clean into you once more before setting you down to the floor. 

you wasted no time grabbing his shoulders and pulled him into a lustful, needy kiss, engulfing him in your adoration and enticement. he occasionally nipped your lower lip, groaning at the feeling of your hand creeping down his abdomen to stroke his neglected, twitching cock. it was drenched and leaking with precum again, as if there would never be an end to how much he could stuff you and cover you with it. the warm water pelted your skin, making you hotter and more breathless as the seconds went by. 

“i’m going to give you everything you could ever want in this life,” he struggled to say whilst attempting to hold back the noises boiling deep in his chest. “my life, my heart, and my soul is yours, sweetheart.”

within an instant, you found your front pressed against the glass with your hands held behind your back. his lips grazed you ear, whispering his need for you as his warm cock circled your entrance, sliding up and down from the curve of your ass to his tip poking your aching clit.

“sylus,” you shivered, leaning back to rest on him before you lost balance– or even consciousness. you couldn’t tell how long you had been going on for anymore, and frankly you couldn’t care less. the tether between the two of you had wrapped so strongly that you couldn’t spend a second not being on each other.

“yes?” his hand gently tapped your chin so you could turn your face to him. he pecked the corner of your lip and rammed himself back into you without warning, forcing out a loud moan through your lips. those rough, and crude thrusts pounded through your tight, needy cunt, which was squeezing around his girth as much as possible. body pressed against the glass, the reflection of your fucked out face with sylus dazed and so drunk in your pussy made you clench harder.

“fuck, my– fuck,” his hips began to stutter and his cock throbbed in warning. the shower wall began to shake from the continuous impact of your bodies slamming together, clapping and squelching as if you just couldn’t be any closer. “if you squeeze again– oh, kitten, i’m going to fill you to the brim.”

he sunk his teeth deep into your flesh sending jolts of new pleasure down your spine, making you both moaning messes. his hands travelled around your body until his dominant hand settled on your abandoned clit to rub and swirl, and the other attacking your nipples– fondling and pinching them with greed to force out your most animalistic nature. your back arched helping you buck yourself into his hips, wanting to feel so much more of him, even though he had already abused your g-spot so much.

you sobbed and whined, singing praises to sylus for what he was doing to get you so horny for him. “keep fucking me like that, sy- fuck, please!” your arms wrapped around his neck, trying to hold onto him to stop yourself from collapsing. if it wasn’t his cock poking your cervix at this point, it was a sign that you were reaching your limit. “give me– can’t think– give it to me!”

neither of you could think that much, really. with you being so hypnotised and enamoured by his huge cock while he drowned and was drunk in your pussy, there wasn’t much to question. you both had a synonymous goal.

“gonna give it to you, kitten,” sylus seethed while licking your skin in ferocious lust, all he wanted and needed was to feel and taste you so he would do just that.

he felt so good inside your delectable pussy, loved how you tightened around him. he wanted to just cum on the spot, over and over and fuck you in every nook and cranny of your apartment then in each and every one of the properties he owned. he didn’t want to stop until every room you two entered was left smelling of cum and sex. who would he be to not desire such pleasure with someone as beautiful, powerful, and sexy as you?

“look at us, sweetie,” he huffed, momentarily stopping to push his cock as deeply into you as possible, completely bottoming out inside of you until all that would be seen was his balls flush against your pussy. he took long, deep, malicious strokes into you, the glass wall threatening to topple over. “look at yourself while i fuck you good, while i stuff my cock right into you.”

your eyes landed on your reflection but you couldn’t help yourself from watching him reduce you to slutty putty. making you feel like such a needy slut for his cock and his hot, thick cum.

“so pretty,” he moaned, throwing his head back. he could feel his orgasm nearing, his body was beginning to falter. “so definitely mine.” 

the perverted reflection of you fucking yourself on his cock while he simultaneously bucked into you had taken you over the edge. your eyes rolled back and your jaws loosened as your body stilled. you let out a hoarse cry as you unfolded, tightly gripping onto him as you became undone, cumming around his cock, your walls squeezing and fluttering around him causing a wave of cum to fill you alongside his thrusts. 

you were so full already that his cum leaked out your pussy in spurts, dripping down your legs and hitting the walls. another wave washed over you, and you could feel so much spurting out of you, spraying the wall and dripping down your bodies. you paused, still feeling sylus rutting his cum into you from behind. 

you squirted. and he had quickly realised it too, from how his pace quickened again. you had felt his cock grow much harder even though he already came.

“fuck, you made such a mess kitten, wanna make you do it again,” he panted, pinching his eyes shut. “gonna fuck you so good, you squirt over and over.”

you still couldn’t understand how he got so hard so quickly but your pussy wasn’t done being fucked just yet. he quickly pulled himself out, his cock slapping against his abdomen still spurting out thick globs of cum. he raised one of your legs over his shoulder and bottomed out deep into you again, with a whole new angle. you both groaned at the feeling, your pussy being stretched by the curve of his depth, creaming and fluttering on it before he could thoroughly fuck you again.

he didn’t waste another second viciously stimulating your clit with his fingers while his cock aggressively drove into you, slapping your skin against his in a quickened rhythm. it didn’t take much before your poor, soaked cunt squeezed you into another orgasm, creaming a white ring around his base. you screamed, feeling a rush of pleasure force out an intense round of your nectar going everywhere onto your abdomen and his, ultimately making you squirt for the second time tonight. 

you felt another gush of cum stuff your pussy as a whimper left sylus’ lips. you couldn’t help but love the fact that he got off just from you squirting. and that got you so much hornier, so needy to do more. but you doubted if your body was capable of handling that. you felt his cock slowly soften as you came down from your highs. he muttered something about wanting to stay inside you a bit longer, and you allowed it, also not wanting to be separated from him being in you just yet. maybe it was the aether cores keeping you attached.

moments passed as you both recovered from your orgasms, resting on each other, whispering praises, and kissed each other in dazed exhaustion. the running water rinsed away most of the cum and slick from your bodies, leaving the rest to be cleaned off once you were both ready.

“that was beautiful,” you murmured as you pulled away from his lips. sylus rested his forehead on yours, still trying to regain his breath. he reached to make the water slightly colder.

“you did so well,” he smiled. “i’m glad i was patient.”

as you began to clean each other up, as exhausted as you were, you felt satisfied. and at peace. sylus was a good ally and companion of yours but from the way things are looking now, you’re more than happy to take things much further.

note: I literally started playing lads a few days ago and OMG LIKE WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK ITS SOO GOOD

[balioc]

Looking at the world from a manager's perspective, you can productively model the pool of workers as being divided into a few basic groups, which are defined and characterized by their driving motivations.

Insert all the usual disclaimers for this sort of thing - this is the roughest type of rough typology. I pulled these categories out of my raw intuition, and possibly a few more would crop up with some additional thought. In reality, the boundaries of these categories are incredibly fuzzy, and almost every individual is actually going to be motivated by a complicated mix of all the relevant motivations; we're talking REALLY SIMPLE HEURISTICS here. Etc.

There have been other well-known worker typologies that share a lot in common with my thoughts here; this is mostly not novel, it's mostly meant to refine a few ideas for particular purposes.

Hustlers are motivated by concrete personal advantage. Most commonly, and most straightforwardly, they want money - as much of it as they can get. They may also be interested in fame, idiosyncratic perks, etc. They do whatever they have to do in order to get what they want.

No surprise: you see huge preponderances of these guys in fields that provide outsize concrete rewards, e.g. finance, the upper echelons of management, etc. But not every natural-born Hustler is in a position to enter a glitzy high-paying field, and in fact you find Hustlers all throughout society and all throughout the economy, finding or making hustles wherever they go.

Having Hustlers working for you is mostly pretty great. They get shit done. They can be induced to work incredibly hard - probably harder than anyone else, under most circumstances - and they'll shank their own mothers if the price is right. If you need anything really important from them, anything at all, it's just a matter of bribing them enough.

...they will also, of course, cheerfully shank you if the price is right. Hustlers aren't the only wellsprings of institutional politics and infighting, but they're the most dangerous ones; they're always potential rivals to everyone around them. Also, you need to keep the tangible rewards flowing in a steady stream in order to get anything out of them, or else they'll put most of their effort into jumping ship (one way or another).

Craftsmen are motivated by the desire to do good work in their chosen fields, for its own sake and for the sake of their treasured self-image as people who do good work.

As you'd expect, for the most part, they're excellent workers and should be prized. But they're not perfect workers. Common weaknesses and downsides include:

They tend to have their own ideas about How Things Should Get Done; they're often resistant to externally-imposed product/service requirements or process changes (and bad at implementing those things) (no matter how important or well-conceived they are), and they're very resistant to "just get it out the door, right now done is better than good."

Being driven chiefly by internal motivation is great, but sometimes it's useful to be able to push things along with external motivators, and Craftsmen are pretty resistant to those. They don't like working more or harder than they're naturally inclined to work, they mostly sneer at carrots, and sticks make them sad and unproductive.

It's important to note that, while noteworthy skill within a field correlates with having a Craftsman temperament and motivation suite - for obvious reasons - those things are not identical at all. Plenty of Craftsmen are bad at their jobs, or just average, and plenty of the best workers are most motivated by things other than the Excellence of the Work Itself.

Fanatics are a relatively rare and specialized group, whom you find mostly within a few specific sorts of culturally-valorized fields. They're motivated by a desire to be part of something Important and Good in a Broader Sense: to Save the World, or some smaller-bore version of that.

They make amazing front-line soldiers, in the sorts of institutions that have "front-line soldiers." They work super hard, and you don't even need to bribe them, you just need to keep them hopped up on inspiration.

The big problem with them is that they're mostly motivated by a feeling - the feeling of Being Righteous - and it's not easy to control where they get that feeling, in any kind of precise way. They're just as resistant to external motivators as Craftsmen are, or even more so, but they're also not being guided by an ideal of effective quality. (No, not even if their chosen cause is theoretically all about an ideal of effective quality, hem hem.) They will happily waste vast amounts of time and money doing useless things, or even counterproductive things, so long as they're engaged in tasks that hit the right psychological buttons for them. There's also a constant risk that a Fanatic will decide that his employer is unrighteous, or that one of his coworkers is unrighteous, and start an internal conflict; the risk scales in a more-than-linear fashion with the number of Fanatics you keep around.

The biggest group, unsurprisingly, is the Normies. In most fields, it is much the biggest group. Normies are motivated by the desire to be members in good standing of their communities, to have positive relationships with the people around them, and to live up to basic norms and expectations.

Managerial skills, in the traditional sense, are incredibly important with Normies. If you want them to do good work for you - and you should want that, as a manager, you've almost certainly got a whole bunch of them - not only do you have to keep them pointed in the right direction, you have to make sure that they're supporting each other. With Hustlers, you just have to throw money at them (and avoid their power plays); with Craftsmen, you just have to let them do their thing, and occasionally badger them into giving you what you need; with Fanatics, you just have to be inspirational; but with Normies, you have to lead, and construct a productive community. You have to set reasonable, achievable norms and expectations that will get you what you need.

This wouldn't be complete if I didn't talk about the Defectors. The Defectors are motivated by not working. They don't want to be there, they resent having to do their jobs, and their primary goal is to shirk as much as possible. They will, by default, put much more effort into shirking than into their assigned tasks.

Obviously, managers don't want to have to deal with them, for good reason. But they're out there, in large numbers - not always in the places and fields where you'd expect to find them - and learning to manage them is sometimes more viable than trying to get rid of them. ("Moving Heaven and Earth to find them jobs that will change their attitude" is often a good plan, although of course it's not always possible and not always worth it.)

Crucially, Defectors are not Normies. If you start with the assumption that the average baseline worker is lazy and sour, you will make some incredibly stupid decisions. There are some fields where, for structural reasons, you can expect that a very large number of your workers will be Defectors; this is a huge and complicated challenge, well beyond the scope of this post, and good luck to you if you have to handle it, but it's not the default.

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

Once you have those categories in your head, and can play with them, a number of obvious-seeming ideas present themselves. Just a couple, for now:

Most high-level executives are Hustlers, or have strong Hustler tendencies, for obvious reasons. Most of the people around them are Hustlers, or have strong Hustler tendencies. This means that they tend to overweight the Hustler outlook, by a lot, when they try to model what their workers are like. More specifically, I'd wager that a lot of them intuitively divide the world into "good workers" ( = Hustlers) and "bad workers" ( = Defectors). This will lead to a heavy overreliance on tangible rewards, a systematic shortchanging of community-building, etc. Which is in fact just what we see.

In particular - crucially - Hustlers and Defectors are the only worker types who ever become more productive under heavy stress. Hustlers actually benefit from it, because it raises the stakes of the game that they're already playing. (If you succeed, you'll be king of the world! If you fail, you'll be shark food! Go go go!) Defectors suffer terribly from stress, of course, but they can sometimes be spooked into doing their jobs as opposed to doing nothing, and sometimes that's the best/easiest way to get something out of them. But stress is terrible for everyone else. Craftsmen lose their focus. Fanatics lose their hope. It's worst of all for Normies, because they take all their cues from the vibes around them; they're productive when they learn to associate work with comfort and happiness, and when you fill their working world with frantic desperation, you just put them in a permanent cringe state.

stop trying to pit your Normies against each other in competitions for status and rewards dear God what are you stupid

To some extent, you can control your institution by controlling what types of workers you have. But only to some extent. There are only so many Hustlers and Craftsmen to go around, and if you want them, you will have to (a) be able to identify them reliably on little information [HINT: you are probably very bad at this], and (b) provide them with what they want [tangible rewards / comfortable security and interesting work]. "We are going to employ only the good special people" is feasible if you're an outfit of four workers; at a dozen, it's already become a stretch; at a few hundred, uh, pfffffffft. If you want to operate at scale, you need to be able to make Normies do good work, there is no substitute for it.

[realcube]

dilf december

day seven ⭑ atsumu miya ⭑ x babysitter! reader

tw : NSFW MINORS DNI, age gap, vaginal, breeding and slight daddy kink

even since he has retired from volleyball professionally, there is still not enough hours in the day.

perhaps it was because he played for one of the most renowned teams, or because he was such an impressive setter, but even a decade after his retirement, his schedule is fully booked with press appearances, talk shows, journal interviews and even modelling contracts. not to mention the court chasing him up about alleged "tax fraud", whatever that means.

so as much as he would love to spend every waking moment with his two little angels, that simply is not possible.

although, he tries his best. since he had custody of his children this week, he somehow managed to make a clearing in his busy schedule to take care of them. however, at the very last minute, an emergency came up pertaining to the media uncovering his court cases, so he had to urgently visit his PR agency to deal with it.

hence, he needed a babysitter to look after his kids for a couple hours. thankfully, you were available.

he had got your number off of a friend of a friend. really, he was just desperately messaging people in his contacts asking for reliable babysitters, and you were the first one to reply. he didn't have time to carry out an extensive vetting process so he just promised you an extra ¥10k if you don't kidnap his children.

and though he didn't check out your profile much either, he wasn't disappointed when you showed up at his door, wearing loose joggers with a tight top. it was to his dismay that he didn't have much time to chat you up before he had to speed off to handle his business with his pr agency.

he said he'd only be a couple hours, so you were irritated — but not surprised — when he came back ten hours later. by then, night had fallen and you had tucked the kids in bed, while you sat with your arms crossed and brows furrowed on the living room couch.

you hear his keys jangle in the front door, followed by apprehensive steps into the room where you sat. "where's my little monsters?" he said in a sing-songy tone.

"in bed." you replied bluntly.

he chuckles, and stands in front of you with his arms crossed too, wearing a devilish expression, "yeah? you managed to get 'em down?"

"i did."

"huh. aren't you a miracle-worker?" he quirks a brow and pushes his tongue into his cheek, unsure of the attitude your giving him, but he perseveres, reaching into his pocket to grab his wallet and then counting his notes, "how were they?"

once he has counted a suitable amount, he hands the stack to you, and you cautiously take it, slipping it into your purse. "they were good. they didn't want to eat anything at first because they didn't want to have dinner without you, but i eventually convinced them to at least have a vegetable snack, so they ate their carrots and peas."

while you were attempting to explain his children's nutrional intake to him, atsumu's attention seemed to be fixed elsewhere. particularaly on your chest, where he could see your hardened nipples poking through the thin grey fabric of your top.

"you cold?" he inquires innocently, with a constrasting sly smirk, and you just grunt in response.

"don't worry about me. worry about your kids." you state bluntly.

a pregnant silence lingers between the two of you, for just long enough to allow you to wonder whether perhaps what you said was out of line, until he breaks it by commenting, "you're right." he snickers slightly, easing the tense atmosphere, "thanks for coming over on short notice, darlin'. yer a real life-saver, y'know."

"it's no problem. anytime." you almost immediately shrug off the previous animus in favour of a more passive approach.

he motions for you to follow him to the doorway, but just as you stand up, you can't help but note the growing buldge in his fitted black trousers. you tease, saying, "are you cold?"

"uh, no, why'd y—" before he even finishes asking the question, it is answered by following your gaze down to his erection, at which he grits his teeth together awkwardly, "right. in that case, i'm fuckin' freezin'."

regularly that comment would mean nothing to him and he'd swiftly move on, but he can tell by that desperate fucking glint in your eye that you are craving him, it's a look that speaks a thousands words. he can't quite put his finger on how it's conveyed but it's definitely there; something about you exudes lust and sexuality. so, now that he gets the impression you're reciprocating his desire, he narrows his eyes and quickly shifts the tone of the interaction by walking backwards towards to the couch, then taking a seat. he spreads his legs slightly and pats the thigh of his left leg, "wanna help an old geezer out?"

it's only when the words exit his mouth and he watches you intently, anticipating a response, when he realises how much he hopes his assumptions were correct. that he wasn't just imagining the wanton desire laced in the way you innocently bat your lashes at him, or the horny tears that engulf your lashline and makes your eyes glisten and gleam. he prays he didn't make it all up in his mind.

but your conviction as you saunter over to him and take a seat on his leg only solidifies his original notion: you need your pussy filled so bad.

his leg shakes roughly underneath you, the fabric of his trousers stimulating your needy clit through your joggers and panties. "good girl. a bit mouthy, but so well behaved." he muses, rolling the bud of your hard, clothed nipple between his index finger and thumb, causing you to mewl at his touch.

"let daddy see that pretty pussy." he whispers hoarsely into your ear, pulling the neck of your tank top down to fondle your tit, while you hastily moved to yank off your joggers and disgard them onto the floor, leaving you in only your lacey black panties.

"you always wear these, darlin'?" he questions with an amused smirk.

you wrap your arms around his neck and whisper against his cheek, "only when i know i'm gonna be babysitting for hot, single, ex-athletes." your hot, breathy moans tickle his skin as his large hand rubs wide circles around your clit.

his thick finger teases your hole, but doesn't penetrate. he wants to leave that pleasure for his cock, which he is quick to let spring free from his trousers.

it's mammoth, just like you imagined. your knees were growing weak from looking at it. you bite your bottom lip and before you have to do it yourself, atsumu uses his grip on your waist to manoeuvre you over the tip of his cock, wetting his tip by dipping it into your heat, but not all the way, causing you to groan,

"miya.. c'mon.."

his brow twiches, watching you plea so desperately for his cock already. you barely even know him that well and you're ready to take him all into your sopping cunt. he can't tell if you're a sweet girl he caught on a needy day, or a just a completely depraved slut. either way, it's his privilege and honour give you what you need.

he thrusts into you, plunging his thick cock into your tight hole; the way your walls instantly grip him has a harsh, guttural drumming in his throat, followed by a string of muttered curses. wanting to keep quiet, but equally unable to contain how satisfied he is.

"fuck.." he grumbles into your ear, pecking and nipping at it as he speaks, "haven't had pussy this good in years, baby.."

a small whine slips passed in your lips in response, as you begin to move your hips, causing you both to moan in unison. soon, you start bouncing on his length and letting him slam into your hole repeatedly, moaning and gasping each time.

he aids this process by grasping your waist and guiding you up and down on his cock, urging you to increase your pace too, until you are feverently riding him as fast as possible, with little regard for the violent way your tits jumped or the lewd moans escaping your mouth.

he watched you eagerly ride him and a smirk formed on his flushed features; his eyes were glued to you the whole time, so he could see every detail of your face when it contorts in response to him climaxing inside you, and clogging up your insides with his hot cum.

your eyes roll back into your heat head, and your shaky arms hoist over his shoulder to brace yourself. his vision is blurred slightly in the heat of the moment but for the most part, he got to see every salacious inch of that face of yours.

yoru chest rises and falls, and your neck hangs back slightly as you breath upwards. however, he captures your chin between his index finger and thumb to direct your gaze towards himself, snickering when you are forced to meet his eyes. "how's that?"

"good.." you pant.

he nods slightly in response, piercing glare not faltering from your wasted figure, "think you can give daddy another?"

[gotholdladywithadhd]

Unpopular opinion, probably.

So I've read many metas, and thought a lot about it and have come to my own personal conclusion about the final 15.

I'm taking it at face value.

Because it was the most human Crowley and Aziraphale have probably ever been and I think that is at least part of the point. Love makes people stupid and they are navigating a very human thing in very unhuman circumstances, and it's hard enough to do as a human in human circumstances!

I think Aziraphale believed the Metatron about Crowley bc he was expecting the worst when TM mentioned Crowley but instead got the one thing he wanted most (him and Crowley together and safe, not Crowley being an angel. ) Crowley was absolutely the carrot here. (and no I do not think Crowley would have been safe or happy, but that's besides the point.) I can't tell you how many times I've believed patently ridiculous things because I wanted to believe them so badly even though if I was looking at the same situation objectively from an outside POV I would see how ridiculous it was, so I totally get it. This isn't to say I think Azi had a real choice to go to Heaven or not and I think he did understand that as well, but I get the temptation the Metatron threw out to him, I really do.

As for Aziraphale literally saying all the wrong things to try and get Crowley to come with him? Um yeah been there done that too, the nerves take over, the brain shuts off, the mouth goes into autopilot pulling stuff out its ass, and "WITAF did I just say?" happens.

Crowley not taking any of it well and only hearing what he expected to hear (I'm not good enough for you bc I'm a demon and you only really want me if I can be an angel) *and* also being more able to see through heavens bullshit bc he has lived it, and can see it from the outside, *and* all whilst being the most honest and vulnerable he has ever been with Aziraphale in 6,000 plus years (or in fact possibly to anyone, ever. the closest before this admitting he was lonely to Azi during the Job minisode,) *then* hearing what he took to be the same Heaven will save us line from Azi was enough to trigger a massive bout of RSD and a broken heart. Everything was supposed to "vavoom and sorted! " and instead the stupid awning broke and everything went wrong. I think I've said it before that at this point Crowley can't hear anything over the sound of his heart breaking into a million pieces.

That's a whole lot to pack into the brief moments before Azi has to leave with the Metatron (who let's be honest was rushing him before he could change his mind) esp when neither of them are used to discussing their relationship openly. They didn't have time to think, to ask questions, to share information, (like hey guess what really happened to Gabriel?) Crowley tried to communicate as much as he could about his feelings with the kiss but Azi didn't have the time to properly process all that and said the wrong thing again and Crowley was rejected (he thought) again and it all just went so very wrong. You can't fix a 6,000 year relationship in 15 minutes, you just can't no matter what the story books say.

It's about two people wanting the same thing but not being able to get it (yet) because of circumstances and personalities. All of S2 was about them seeming to be closer than ever (and in many ways they were) but really they were opposed at almost every turn. (in RL not the minisodes, those actually showed them working together and coming out okay mostly, if you don't count wee Morag or Crowley getting dragged to hell) The way they both handled the Gabriel situation, how they both worked to solve the mystery, even how they tried to make Nina and Maggie fall in love were all either done alone, or in opposite ways. I've said it before and I'll say it again, as it was pointed out right in ep1, their exactlies aren't the same and until they are, they aren't going to be able to be together. The one time they did work together in the season, they produced a 25 lazuri miracle. That is the point of the final 15, and the whole season 2 in my opinion.

They'll get there in the end though!

[cameronspecial]

Dad!drew and readers kid wants a sibling, so drew and reader have THE conversation

Can We Really Do It?

Pairing: Dad!Drew Starkey x Reader

Warnings: Suggestion of Sex at The End

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.6K

Masterlist

Anything Megan wants, she gets. There are boundaries, of course; however, if it is within his power and she is being good, Drew makes it his mission to buy it for her. Today, the little girl comes home from daycare wanting something that her parents can’t just pick up on a run to the store. “Mommy, I want a baby brother,” Megan announces nonchalantly, focusing her attention on eating her snack. The hand drying off a glass freezes, “Why do you ask, Baby?” Megan shrugs and stares at the carrot in her hand. “Stephanie has one and she gets to play with him at home all the time, so I want one too. Can we go to the store tomorrow to get one? I have been a good girl,” she suggests. Y/N sighs and sets the glass on the drying rack, “Unfortunately, Baby, Mommy and Daddy can’t just go to the store and get one. I will have to talk about it with Daddy and if we decide to get one, then it could be a while until we get one.” When her daughter doesn’t reply right away, she knows that Megan has already moved on from the conversation. “Okay, can we play outside after snack?” Megan innocently asks, kicking her legs while she eats the vegetable. 

———

As Y/N returns to her bedroom from the adjoining bathroom, Drew starts taking off the decorative pillows his wife insists on keeping. She joins him at the head of the bed and fluffs their pillows. “So…” she begins, eyes remaining on her task. “Meg asked me about getting a baby brother.” He pauses his actions, getting into bed beside her. “And do we know why she is asking for one?” he pries. She snuggles into his side, “Because Stephanie has one and Meg wants someone to play with.” Drew nods along with her explanation. “I see. I mean… We always talked about wanting more kids. The question was always when,” he reminds her. She leans her head back to rest against the headboard, “We did, but is two years too early? I mean, we always said we would wait until she starts school to start trying.” “That is true. You and your sister have a two-year age gap and you guys turned out fine,” he says. 

“We aren’t my parents though, so it is more so what we are ready for. I love Megan. But sometimes she can be a lot and if we have another kid, we would need to deal with both.”

“Yeah, we would. I’ll be honest. I think that we can do it. We are great parents and we have so much love to give. Maybe another kid would be good for us. However, having a baby affects you physically, so if you aren’t ready to go through that again, then I am perfectly happy to wait.”

Her heart squeezes at his consideration of her needs. Being pregnant was hard, yet the reward of getting to be a parent made it worth it so the pregnancy wasn’t her issue. “I’m fine with the pregnancy. It’s just… Can we really do it?” she thinks out loud, tracing the skin on his forearm. His lips find her temple, “I mean… Can we physically have sex to have a baby? I’m going to say yes considering we did it last night without the baby-making part.” She gives him a shove at his joke. “Be serious. Do you think we can do it?” she chuckles. His smile turns to a straight line, “I do. And in the instant that we think that we can’t, we will have each other to rely on.” She takes a second to process what he is saying and makes her decision. “Okay, let’s do this.”

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming @magicalyoura

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

.⋆｡Make Him Better Looking｡⋆.

Sam Winchester x plus size reader

Truth serum plus hidden feelings and a major amount of lust for your best friend is bound to end well

Warnings: truth serum, reader is hornee, implied smut, size kink, Sam is taller than the reader, explicit thoughts, mutual pining, mentions of a hunt

WC: 1.1k

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

Falling in love with Sam had been easy- not only was he stupidly handsome with those big hazel puppy dog eyes and a killer body, but he was kind and he was smart. He loved with his whole soul and would do anything for anyone, even after all the shit he had been through. 

What hadn’t been easy, however, was just how horny you got every time you even thought of the giant hunter let alone be around him. If he was tracing lines in a book to keep his place, you thought about what his fingers would feel like inside of you. If he was working out, you wondered if he would make those same noises in bed. And worst of all was when he was talking animatedly about something, his entire body came alive with passion and excitement. His eyes sparkled and his smile was always huge. And yet all you could think about was having his face between your thick thighs, talking into your cunt as he feasted. 

Needless to say, you had absolutely destroyed your scant collection of toys and taken more cold showers than warm. Eventually, you had to reach your breaking point.

It had been a witch hunt in Arkansas that went slightly wrong. People all around town were suddenly compelled to tell everyone around them their darkest secrets, ruining their lives in the process. It was a pretty simple cut and dry witch who had some vendetta against liars so she was forcing everyone to tell the truth. You and Jody picked up the hunt as some kind of demented girl’s trip and it mostly went off without a hitch. At least until the witch got you with a truth spell right before the sheriff dropped her.

You had arrived back home with your mouth practically sewn shut in an attempt to keep yourself from telling the boys your innermost thoughts until the spell wore off (which Jody assured you that it would be a couple days at most). Claire and Alex already had their fun asking you questions that you could no longer lie in response to, leading to them learning why there’s a bottle of deluded bleach and air freshener in the back of the Impala and the ‘no tequila after midnight’ rule. 

Dean quickly discovered your ailment after you bluntly told him that his new orange flannel and grown out hair made him look like an oversized carrot, and he was determined to break you. But unfortunately for him, you were a hell of a lot smarter than him and could find ways to easily distract him.

You and Dean sat across from each other at the library table, eyes locked to each other as you both desperately tried not to blink. A game born out of desperation not to reveal your darkest secrets and childish rivalry but with a month’s worth of laundry on the line, the game was a matter of life or death. Your eyes burned as you struggled to keep them open but you refused to back down now, especially when Dean’s face had begun to turn red with the strain, you knew he was close to breaking.

Then, disaster struck. Right as his eyelids began to twitch with the need to blink, Sam walked into the library wearing a tight white shirt and grey sweatpants and obviously not wearing briefs. Immediately your mouth went dry as your concentration was broken. You didn’t even hear Dean cheer that he won, you just kept looking at his  brother who was now browsing the many shelves for something to read.

Dean rubbed at his eyes while glancing at his younger brother before sarcastically remarking. “Looking good Sammy.” Sam responded with a scoff, returning to his search and letting you get a glimpse of his perky backside.

The words tumbled from your lips before you could stop them, spilling out of your dirty mind like an unstoppable river. “Goddamn, how about you bring that perfect ass over here and I’ll tell you how I can make you look even better.” Everyone froze, including you, and then you opened your mouth again. “You’d look hotter with me sitting on your face.”

Silence settled over the bunker, your veins filled with dread. “Oh god please ignore that I said that- well actually, I don’t want you to ignore it. I really do want to sit on your face but right now I really want to throw myself off a cliff. So I think I’m gonna go do that. Have a nice life boys.” You went to slip from your chair but suddenly your wide hips were pinned to the edge of the table but two huge hands.

Sam loomed over you, his eyes dark with lust as he smirked down at you. “Now why would you go and do that when we could test your little theory.” Your breath caught in your throat. He dipped down, bringing his face to yours until you were close enough to feel his breath on your lips. 

“I-“ You stammered. Wetness pooled between your thighs as he stepped even closer, pressing his hardening cock to your soft body. 

“Oh what is it baby? Can’t speak anymore? Don’t worry, you won’t be able to stop making sounds when my mouth is on your cunt.” He growled into your ear.

Neither you nor Sam noticed when Dean sprung to his feet and ran off into the depths of the bunker to escape the very obvious tension on the brink of exploding between you. Your fingers tentatively curled into his shirt, making his smile grow. “That’s a good girl, now how about you go to my room and get undressed. I wanna see if you get even more beautiful when you’re on top of me.” 

——————

Sam had always found you incredibly intoxicating but even more so now. You were dead asleep on his chest, your breaths even as you slumbered on. Sam took pride in your exhaustion considering he was the cause. He gently stroked the soft skin of your hip, tracing over the texture of your stretch marks delicately as to not wake you. 

You sighed in your sleep, nuzzling closer to his bare chest. He kissed the top of your head and with a great amount of care, slipped from your hold. You stirred only for a moment before settling once more. He dressed quietly and slipped out of his room.

The smell of freshly brewed coffee wafted from the kitchen drawing him in like a siren. “Morning.” He muttered as he wandered in, shooting his brother a glance. Dean nodded at him from his place at the small table, drinking his coffee silently.

As Sam poured two mugs of the bitter drink, he spoke again. “She was right, you know.” Dean hummed and looked up at him curiously. “I do look better when she sits on my face.”

SPN Masterlist | Main Masterlist

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Supernatural

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Sam Winchester

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[sacrifical-lamb-core]

Jason Grace hcs, but they're sad

Had to wear one of those dog cone things as a little kid, mainly to really shame him

Wasn't allowed to go past the pomeranian line as a kid bc he was considered a living weapon

Cannot process receiving affection because why are they doing this what is their hidden agenda

Has an allergy (methinks carrots) but he doesn't realise it because food is food and inherent to survive and food is a privilege and why would you waste it

Also requested if he could maybe please sorry for wasting your time but maybe please please be evaluated for needing glasses? And got laughed at

Asked if he would ever go to new Rome University, and got laughed at again

Didn't really have a proper bed as a kid so just kinda slept wherever at the start and got in trouble because you aren't allowed to sleep there that's against the rules

Anyways

@euryvices @freddie-77-ao3 @seulgishaku @somewhereincairparavel @jasongraceenthusiast

[typewritingyip]

The Arcturus Missions

Part Fourteen - Nightmares

Part Thirteen

———

Human mass is made up primarily of six elements; oxygen, carbon, hydrogen, nitrogen, calcium, and phosphorus. That makes up around 99% of the human body, 0.85% is made up of another five, being potassium, sulfur, sodium, chlorine, and magnesium. Together the eleven elements are necessary for human life, the trace elements of the other 0.15% included, probably. 

There is no discernable thing that keeps them specifically alive, such as a Spark, but most organics experience similar characteristics. 

To most mechanicals, just understanding what they're made out of, they think if they harm an organic too much they will simply pop. It grossed most of them out and a decent number preferred to stay away. Those who didn’t find them gross, just don’t understand how they could live without a spark or something resembling a spark.

Mechanicals and organics, they typically didn’t get along whether for prejudice or misunderstanding.  

—

Once the cybertronians cleared out, they could disable the mobility assist and eat. Talking over private comms and eating, wearing their visors if they could, otherwise maintaining the wider visual feeds. The mix of alien food and perishable earth food was becoming less and less frequent as little of the stuff from Earth that would go bad remained. Almost seven months since they left home and they’d managed to make it last this long was nothing short of great planning and a miracle in the name of Prowl’s processor.

Hound was chuckling, eating the last of his almonds and something that had been deemed ‘Carrot Potatoes’, which was only called that because its growth process was similar. It did not look like a potato or carrot, or taste like either, it was more meat-like than anything but they couldn’t exactly say that out loud. Jazz learned that the hard way when mention to Prowl over three years ago that it tasted like beef, only the exact translation was that it tasted like organic animal muscle and Prowl found that endlessly disturbing. It generally was cut up and dried or superheated, similar to roasting. For the moment, Hound was enjoying the fired version as it was most similar to beef jerky. Along with the food, they had a nutrients drink of Prowl’s design, which was foul, but provided them with what they couldn’t get from any of the food they had access to. It was easier to wash down with water, which thankfully they did have regular access to.

Sideswipe was laughing, gesturing, “I can’t believe that, I mean, come on. Primus selected him specifically to be the leader of a whole planet?” Breakdown groaned, “Not this conversation, again.” Sunstreaker laughed and took a drink from the thing Prowl designed, not even gagging or choking on it like the rest of them. Supposedly he was used to the taste of vitamins and dirt. “I’m just saying, the mech is just like the rest of us. A somewhat normal life before the damn war and now he was selected by their creator to lead the planet, that would be like if god came down to Hound and made him the leader of the free world and the pope at the same time.” With a shake of his head, Jazz groans, “I hate that you’ve all held onto the pope analogy, it was a bad one and I regret it.” They all laughed at that, it didn’t translate well and to be honest, it’s what they all called him over private comms. 

It took them a while to calm down from their laughing fits, Hound finishing off his food first and disengaging his camera, “Alright everyone should get their heads down.” Breakdown chuckled lightly, “You say that like we’ll all be awake in an hour.” disabling his own camera for the night, “Yeah, I know. You all kicked ass today, just, get some rest.” Hound chuckled light as he took off his helmet and visor, shaking his head a bit, “Night guys.” With a chorus of nights and good nights, they all turned off their camera and microphones, turning off the comm line for the night. Each adjusting their settings as needed, setting up alerts and things for the night. It was difficult, having to sleep in your mech but they all made it work. Cots and sleeping bags, makeshift wash stations, pillows and blankets, or even just a bit of storage were all stuff they took cues from Jazz about. It made their life just that little bit more normal that they needed. 

—

It was the middle of the dark cycle when Sunstreaker shot up from his makeshift cot in his mech suit, they had all agreed it would be easier to remain in their cockpits as much as possible when in the field but when back in Iacon they would run any updates or cleaning protocols that were necessary. He was breathing heavily, sweating and unable to truly pull himself from the dream, “I can’t breathe.” Sunstreaker’s voice was faint, strangled from crying, practically falling off the cot he goes to the command chair and starts to run the toxicity test on the air outside his mech. The longer he was in the suit the worse he was getting, starting to hyperventilate, the claustrophobia was kicking in. Grabbing hold of part of his helmet, practically yanking the visor from it he holds it up to read the current reading before unsealing his suit.

The outside air was cool with a light breeze, the heater was several feet away but keeping the metal of their mech suits warm. Sunstreaker pulled himself from where his suit laid and fell to the ground painfully, gasping desperately as the panic attack set in. 

Nightmares were common for pilots, anything from the life before the suit, the comparability testing, being physically made compatible, or just the life as a pilot weighed heavily.  They all had nightmares. Nights where you’d wake up in a cold sweat or nights where you couldn’t breathe, it’s just usually you weren’t in the thing that brought about the nightmare.

Sunstreaker stayed where he fell for a while, both from the pain and the panic. The visor was still covering his face and his hands were over his ears, taking deep breaths when he could and when he couldn’t he was choking on the air. Nightmares and panic attacks were too common among pilots, but it was part of the way of life. What started to bring Sunstreaker out of his was a gentle tremor in the ground, much like how Megatron would shake the ground but significantly softer. Taking a breath, he slowly pushes himself up from the floor, holding his arm that he landed on painfully and tries to look around. Only now becoming away from where he was and what he was doing. Suddenly aware when bright blue eyes locked on his small form and stared, saying something in Cybertronian that he could only partially understand without the translator, “Shit.” In that moment, even in all his years of training and fighting, even back when he street raced he never froze like he did now.

Bluestreak wasn’t entirely sure what he was staring at, it was dark certainly but this small thing was sitting near one of the strange human mechanicals, one of his friends if he was being honest with himself. The twins, the split sparked idiots had grown on him, and had found his work impressive. It meant a lot. Taking a moment, he looks closer with a frown, “Are you lost, little thing?” The planet they were on had everything from organics to some cybertronian’s living on it. It was meant to be a peaceful place but their energy farms had been clocked by the Quintessons in the last quartex and now the fields outside the energy farms were battlefields. This was happening across the universe, especially in cybertronian space and apparently as distant of a quadrant as where the strange mecha were from. 

They both stared at each other for a long time, the visor on Sunstreaker trying to help out with translations rolling across the screen and what little else it could do separated from the mech suit, and Bluestreak was trying his hardest to seem non-threatening. One step from Blue though shook the ground and Sunny was quick to grab part of his suit to stabilize himself. That was a bad idea. 

Bluestreak was quick to grab the organic away from Sunstreaker, knowing the mech needed his recharge and brought the thing close to his face. Sunstreaker stumbled and nearly fell, clutching desperately at Bluestreak’s hand, swearing, “Fuck! Put me down!” Bluestreak’s scowl was rather menacing when it was this large and close, Sunstreaker nearly fell again as Blue started to back away from the group and the warmth of the heater, causing Sunstreaker to shiver from the cool night air. After all, a pilot didn’t sleep in his assistant suit if he could help it. 

With all the connectors embedded in his body, those being connected to the assistant suit made it hard to move and the wires both in the suit and down his back pinched painfully when leaning wrong, let alone trying to sleep in it. NASA had been kind enough to send them up with astronaut pajamas, but Sunstreaker kept those in Iacon where it was just about always cold. Now, he really wished he was wearing more than his boxers. Blue kept glowering at him and he was catching just about every other word, desperately holding onto his palm, he raises a hand and struggles with their very strange language, “Negative-motion!” Bluestreak stopped, his eyes widening slightly and Sunstreaker sighed, practically melting, “Thank god that worked. Uh.” He stares at Bluestreak before bringing himself back to standing, still shaking lightly. 

“Name, me. Star-Orbit-Postive, Positve-Speed-Positive-Movement-Someone.” Sunstreaker winced, it was a rough translation at best but, Bluestreak’s eyes flicked over to his suit before looking back and shaking his head a bit, “Negative. Name, Star-Orbit-Positve, positive-direction.” And he pointed. Sunny groaned and rubbed his face, taking the visor off briefly with a frown, trying to think. He continued to shiver, glancing over to his suit, and looked back, “Me, Negative-size. Motion-speed-negative. Movement-pain-positive, in—“ He stops and points, “Star-orbit-positive, positive-direction.” Holding up the visor briefly, before putting it back on and acting like he was holding a set of controls, “Movement-pain-positive, in Positive-size, positive-plating.” He hoped it would come across, if he was just in his suit he could explain. Then again, if he was in his suit he wouldn’t need to explain. Bluestreak continued to stare, frowning before shaking his head a bit, “Negative, Star-Orbit-Positive, recharge.” Sunstreaker almost growled, throwing his hands up and dragging his hands down his visor.

Bluestreak had started to walk away again by the time Sideswipe was back in his assistant suit and up, moving over quickly and just grabbing Sunny, “Blue, what the hell.” Sunstreaker grabbed desperately at his brother’s hands, eyes wide still and clutching desperately, “This organic is clearly lost Sides.” Bluestreak smiled a bit, “Plus, you should be in recharge.” “Yeah, well, so should Sunny.” Walking back over, his steps significantly lighter than Bluestreak’s as to make sure the others remained asleep, he lowered Sunstreaker back to his suit, “He’s freezing, why’d you take him away from the heater?” Sideswipe was practically growling, turning and glaring at Bluestreak, visor darkening, “Organics on this planet usually wear more of those organic coverings.” Sideswipe rolled his eyes, watching as Sunstreaker closed up his suit, Bluestreak’s eyes widening, “What the?” Sideswipe turned around and shoved Bluestreak hard, grabbing his arm and pulling him away from the heater and away from his sleeping friends. 

Sideswipe’s fist collided with Bluestreak’s face, “You could have killed him! It’s freezing out here!” Blue caught his first the second time, “Sides, calm down!” “Don’t you dare tell me to calm down!” And he tackled Blue to the ground.

The inside of Sunstreaker’s suit was now just as cold as it was outside, the heater only helping so much as he pulled on his assistant suit and activated his direct comm to Hound, sending out his distress alert as he shivered. Trying to get in the pilot's seat and his suit up while Bluestreak and Sideswipe fought a dozen meters away. 

It took only a few seconds for Hound to wake up, frowning at Sunstreaker’s distress alert before getting up. Pulling on part of his assistant suit he activated his visual feeds, then quickly climbed into his piloting chair while swearing. They would draw the attention of the other awake cybertronian’s and wake up everyone else if they kept fighting. His suit was the easiest to get up and moving, though he wasn’t in his entire mobility assistant suit he was quick to override the controls and move over towards them as fast as he could. Just managing to grab Sideswipe and haul him off Bluestreak, “Enough! Go back to bed, now!” “But Sunny,” “Is fine. Go to him, now. I will handle this with Bluestreak.” Sideswipe yanked himself from Hound’s hold, glare evident even with the visor before storming back towards the heater and wrapping his arms around Sunstreaker when he was finally able to sit up.

”I swear, I didn’t do anything.” Bluestreak was bloodied, wiping at his mouth at energon leaked from the gashes there. Hound offered a hand to him, frowning, “I know, but we clearly need to talk.” With hesitation, Blue took Hound’s hand carefully. Sighing slowly, Hound helps Blue up then gestures, “We need to talk away from the others and we need to get Prowl on comms.” Bluestreak almost stopped dead in his tracks, “Prowl? But I just said,” “I know what you said. It has nothing to do with that. Come on.” He gestured towards where there was a turned off heater, away from the few cybertronian’s milling around outside.

—

Sunstreaker was still shivering, his mech shaking lightly, “I’m fine Sides, really.” he leaned his head against his brother’s shoulder, “I just had a nightmare and needed some air, I didn’t think anyone would be around.” Sideswipe was fuming, holding Sunstreaker close, “He could have killed you and not even realized it.” Sighing, “Yes, but I’m okay. Least till Hound has to explain the big secret.” He bangs his head lightly against Sideswipe’s shoulder, “I can’t believe I was so stupid and reckless.” Sideswipe quick led shook his head and held Sunstreaker closer, reading the message Hound sent, “You couldn’t breath, were not supposed to be spending every waking and sleeping moment in these suits.” He sighs slowly and shifts, “Come on, we need to get some more sleep for tomorrow. Hound is handling Bluestreak, as much as I want to kill him.” Sunstreaker nodded a bit and started to deactivate the connections, “I’m sorry.” “Don’t be, just go back to sleep Sunny. Hound’s got it.” Sunstreaker gently pulled off his helmet and visor, disabling the external feeds. Seeming to everyone who didn’t know their secret like he’d already fallen back to sleep. Sideswipe watched and waited for a few minutes before removing his own helmet, wincing as he unplugged part of the assistant suit from the piloting apparatus. He was bleeding a bit, from where wires had torn into his skin. 

A pilot is supposed to wear the entire mobility assistance suit when piloting a mech, but sometimes you had to save your brother from dying before you could get every piece on. Padding over to his makeshift bed, Sideswipe pulled out a medical kit to cover the gashes he’d gotten from the raw connections to himself instead of the suit. Him, Sunstreaker, Breakdown, Jazz and Hound had scars from doing this in the past that reopened far too easily. 

—

The comm only had to ping twice before Prowl was on the line, “Hound, it’s the middle of the night cycle.” Though he didn’t sound tired, it was more the concern, “This line secure? No one is listening in?” There were two quick clicks of mechs abandoning the line, “Now there is not. Why?” Hound sighed and sat down, turning the heater on high, “Sunstreaker climbed from his suit when Bluestreak was around, there was some sort of altercation and I need you to connect Bluestreak to the comm line.” Prowl was eerily quiet on the other side, after a moment Hound could tell the poor guy was hitting his head on his desk before there was another click, “Alright, what is happening? Why did an organic of all primes forsaken things climb into Sunny’s chest?” He sounded horrified and Hound bit his lip, trying to not yell and took a breath, “Bluestreak, that organic is Sunstreaker.” Shifting a bit, he claps his hands awkwardly, “And you came way too close to killing him for his brother’s liking or mine.” Taking a breath, Prowl clears his throat, “I will handle this Hound, you should return to the others and get more sleep.” Nodding a bit, it took Hound a second to speak, “Thank you Prowl.” He stood and hands shaking lightly, chose to walk away. Disconnecting himself from the comm line as Bluestreak started to yell.

When Hound got back to the makeshift campsite, all the others were either still asleep or back to sleep. He took a moment, standing away from the others and dragged his hands over his head. They were on yet another alien planet, around people they were just beginning to trust and now someone Sunstreaker had genuinely trusted just attempted to kill him. Maybe not purposefully, maybe even not-knowingly, but these other mecha were dangerous. Hound had to remind himself how dangerous they were. Moving back over and lowering himself to the ground, he stares up at the stars, tomorrow would be a day where none of them trusted Bluestreak again. Trust earned is just as easily lost. Looking over to Sunstreaker, he reaches out and turns the heater up, sighing a bit as it warms the metal around him comfortably. 

How could he protect them when everyone knew what they were.

—

Prowl was shouting, Bluestreak had his head down and was trying not to cry. The prime had clear orders whenever it came to organics and nine times out of ten it was to leave them alone. But Blue knew Sunny, knew he hated when he was splattered with energon or anything remotely gross. The guy liked to keep his paint clean, he didn’t think an organic with its slime would be appreciated. Now, he just felt stupid. He’d never seen them eat, they slept more than any other mechanicals he knew, and they preferred to handle their repairs themselves instead of going to Knockout; though who could really blame them for that. Everyone just thought they were weird, like their fascination with death, their avid prayer, and lots of talk about things that couldn’t translate.

“This is a secret that you must keep Bluestreak, you know the prejudices of our people and you know how they’ll be treated. Everyone will think they are piloting around corpses.” Bluestreak shuddered and gagged lightly, “They practically are!” “No, no they are not. Their suits were designed specifically for them, in most cases, Their people needed a way to fight the Quintessons and this was their solution.” Bluestreak leaned back against the seat, staring at the sky, “They look so much like us.” Prowl sighed deeply, “Blame Swerve, regardless, not only am I asking you to keep this secret Blue, but they are as well. Hence why Hound was the one to start this conversation, he only left because of his anger.” Bluestreak paused and looked over to the humans, their solitary huddle, optics leaking, “I didn’t mean to hurt him.” There was a moment of silence before Prowl spoke up, softly now, “I know and they will come to understand that, but remember that Jazz has been organic all these stellar cycles, everything he’s heard,” Blue gasped lightly, “He told them.” Prowl hummed sympathetically. Even Bluestreak found some of the things others said offensive, some of their people couldn’t comprehend how they were living beings or intelligent ones. Sure, some weren’t so bad but even then. 

Hiccuping lightly, Bluestreak takes a deep invent, “Primus Prowl, how did you keep this slag a secret for so long? Does the Prime even know?” There was another delay on the line, “I kept it a secret, cause I knew if I said anything it would put Jazz in jeopardy. And I didn’t tell the Prime because we needed him, we need them or we won’t survive these invasions.” They fell silent, both staring off into space, even on separate planets, “I’ll keep their secret Prowl, but how will I get back their trust?” Prowl opened and closed his mouth, “Blue, I wish I knew. Humans are fickle and unpredictable at best.” Bluestreak groaned and slid to the ground, covering his face, “To say as the humans do then, I fucked up.” Prowl chuckled a bit sadly, “Yes, unfortunately you have.” Bluestreak stayed there on the ground, by himself and the overly warm heater.

Prowl disconnected the line and stared at the display of maps and battle plans, the bots who were there to the left side and the humans to the right, taking a slow invest, he adjusted Sunstreakers, Sideswipes, and Hound’s statuses and marked them to not be disturbed until they reached out to the other mecha. It was the only thing he could do from so far away. Glancing over to the icon for Optimus, he thought about it, like he always did in a moment like this before returning to adjusting the plan for tomorrow. They’d just have to survive till they returned to Iacon then they’d be able to discuss this at his— Jazz’s apartment. 

———

A/N

So, this was not the initial direction that I planned to take this part but I love it so much. I knew that the twins were going to spill the secret in some way, I originally wanted it to be in a stupid way but I prefer to write angsty stuff.

Let me know if you guys want to know what his nightmare was about? I haven’t written anything down but I know what it is.

Thank you all for all the love I’ve been getting on these fics and I am thinking of setting up a release schedule? I know it will probably be between 4:30 and 6 EST. But I don’t know how many days a week cause at the moment I’m flying by the seat of my pants.

Tags!

@lunarlei68 @whirlywhirlygig @loop-hole-319 @pixillandjester @alek-the-witch @not-a-moose-in-disguise @goddessofwind8water @neurologicalglitch @dersereblogger @pixel-transformers @mrcrayonofdoom @wireplaces @twilightfreefaller @original-blog-name-2 @devilangel657 @robbin-u @childofprimus @miniartistme @starwold @tea-enthusiasm @valeexpris606 @celticdoggo @bird599 @agentsquirrelsgotrobots @aquaioart @dimencreasatlas @thatwandercat @artdagz @seisha974 @starscreamloverfr @halenhusky309

And once again thank you to @keferon for this amazing AU!

[seireiteihellbutterfly]

Bleach Headcanons: Skincare

Who’s the skincare expert and who uses just soap and water?

Jushiro Ukitake:

He doesn’t believe in flashy skincare, thinking it needs to be convenient, gentle and affordable. Think of brands like Cerave, Cetaphil, and La Roche Posay. He’ll probably have a trusted cleanser he’s been using for years (centuries?), a reliable serum, maybe retinoid based (gotta use something anti-aging at this stage) and a good, hydrating moisturizer (illness makes his skin dry and he hates looking that way). 

Byakuya Kuchiki:

Can and will only buy the best of the best. A skincare snob. Even if there’s an amazing drugstore brand, he refuses to use it. SK II, Tatcha, and La Mer are all you’ll find in his bathroom cabinet. Of course he follows the 7 step Korean skincare routine. Cleanse twice, toner, essence, serum, moisturizer eye cream. Adds a sunscreen if he plans on going out. He will not compromise his routine for anything, so be prepared to wait for him as he goes through this process everyday, twice.

Renji Abarai:

He’ll pretend like he doesn’t do any skincare but he has his little stash of items he uses for self-indulgence. He enjoys wearing face masks (thanks to Rukia), which he applies after using a cleanser that’s trending, like from Tula or Drunk Elephant. The man somehow has balanced skin so he’ll use an everyday moisturizer like the Clinique Moisture Surge. 

Kensei Muguruma:

He uses his body wash as face wash, and whatever body moisturizer he has on hand he uses on his face too. What’s the point after all? It’s skin. As long as it’s clean and not cracking, there isn’t a problem. 

Mayuri Kurotsuchi:

He creates his own skincare but it’s kind of questionable. He claims his skin can tolerate quite a lot, so his skincare always has heavy amounts of acids in it; glycolic acid, salicylic acid, ascorbic acid. Top this off with a heavy dosage retinol. Does it work? We may never know from all the makeup he uses on his face. At least he removes all of it before sleeping (?). 

Kisuke Urahara:

He also makes his own concoctions, but in a much less dramatic way than Mayuri. Grows his own ingredients, like oranges for vitamin C, mint for salicylic acid, and carrots for retinol. Think of his products like a  clean, organic skincare line that he wouldn’t sell to anyone unless he’s happy with it himself. He rarely buys commercially available products but the one thing he will spend his money on is sheet masks, they’re convenient and he honestly finds them tedious to make on his own.

Shinji Hirako:

He may not show it, but this man is very self conscious about his appearance. He has a mix of both popular and indie skin care brands. Think Belif, Youth to the People and Drunk Elephant. He probably regularly cleanses and uses a moisturizer, maybe something with vitamin C in it, since he can’t have people seeing the dark circles under his eyes.

Ichigo Kurosaki:

Essence? Toner? Serums? Isn’t a cleanser just soap? Give him some bar soap and a CeraVe moisturizer. He doesn’t have time to figure this shit out. There’s people that need to be saved and stuff. 

Rose Otoribashi:

Yes, he knows the difference between a toner and an essence. He also thinks essences are a gimmick. Give him a balancing cleanser for his oily skin, and a toner with some salicylic acid in it to further help the oil. Add a vitamin C serum and a lightweight moisturizer and he’s ready to rock. 

[allroundvp]

Allround Vegetable Processing offers a superior range of sorting, grading, washing, polishing, brushing, weighing, bagging, and material handling lines. Next to that, you can count on us for storage equipment and loading and unloading lines for multiple vegetables.

[thoughtportal]

homemade vegan vegetable stock cubes

What could you do with leftover vegetables scraps at the end of the week? Make stock cubes! You can use any sort of leftover vegetables to make your own all natural stock cubes! The process is super straightforward and you can make enough to store and use for months.

Ingredients 🥦🥕🍠🟨

1kg Assorted leftover vegetables (carrot peels,celery, broccoli stems ,cauliflower leaves,soft veg ,onion, leeks, mushrooms, etc.)

4 x cloves of garlic

1 teaspoon of salt

1 teaspoon of nutritional yeast

Herbs & spices

Salt & pepper

Olive oil Instructions 🥣

Gather your leftover vegetables and make sure they are clean and edible.

Chop the vegetables into smaller pieces

Sauté them with 2 tbsp of olive oil until

They release all the flavours and most of the water has evaporated

Let the veg cool for a bit

In a blender add the cooked vegetables , garlic,spices and herbs salt & black pepper.

Blend the mixture until it becomes a smooth puree.

Line a flat, shallow pan with parchment paper. Pour the vegetable puree onto the pan and smooth it out evenly.

Place the pan in the freezer and let it freeze until it’s solid.

Remove the frozen vegetable puree from the pan and cut it into cubes.

(Optional )Wrap each cube in parchment paper or place them in an airtight container. Store the wrapped cubes in the freezer .

Now you have your homemade vegan vegetable stock cubes in a convenient frozen form to enhance the flavor of your recipes whenever needed. Just take out a cube or two from the freezer for your cooking!

{watch}

[lillaydee]

One Heart Part 4

Sheriff Joel Miller / Reader

Trying and failing miserably to recover from an inconceivable loss, you accepted your best friend's invite to spend time with her and her family for a summer, hoping for a chance at a new beginning. Little did you know that the new beginning you were stepping into was a little too close to home.

WARNING:

Protective Joel (The Last of Us), Good Parent Joel (The Last of Us), Grief/Mourning, Joel is Bad at Feelings (The Last of Us), Joel Needs a Hug (The Last of Us), Ellie is mentioned, Sheriff Joel, Sarah plays matchmaker, No age gap, Joel is in his 30s, Joel is Trying His Best (The Last of Us), Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - No Cordyceps Outbreak (The Last of Us), Fluff and Angst.

SERIES MASTER LIST

PART 3

---

You and Maria got to the restaurant almost two hours earlier than you needed to be.

Once there, You put your apron on, and began peeling potatoes. You peeled all the potatoes you could peel, and then you peeled some more. You found the carrots next, then the onions and garlic. Peel, peel, peel, slice, slice, slice, chop, chop, chop. You didn’t think. You just did. Maria didn’t say anything – just let you do these things, normally reserved for less experienced chefs, but you needed to do this, some repetition, something you could do on autopilot, breathe through, cry through, quietly, at your station, alone, unbothered.

By the time lunch service came, your mind was blank, your body moved out of your own control, it was as if you had never left the kitchen in the first place, going through the motions, your hands and body working off muscle memory that may be slightly rusty, but you still had it. And work, you found, helped you forget. About Eric, about Ellie, about the look Joel gave you when he was yelling at you. You should have done this when it all began over 18 months ago, instead of wallowing in your sadness and being unproductive in Lennie’s basement. Too late now, of course, but spending these few hours at the restaurant made you realize that you could get over this, if you focus on the work. That’s why you came to this town, after all, wasn’t it?

But once the work stopped, it all came back.

Eric’s still red grave, next to the smaller, freshly dug hole. Your beloved Ellie’s casket being carried towards its final resting place, next to her father’s. Joel accusing you of trying to poison his daughter. You didn’t know why, the gravity of those situations were nothing alike, but at that moment, they weighed the same – Eric’s grave and Ellie’s casket on your shoulders, Joel’s accusation on your head. All pressing down on you, making you feel trapped, spine uncomfortably forced down, your feet heavy, involuntarily trudging along as a result, when mere moments ago you were just gliding around the kitchen, feeling light as a feather.

You didn’t want to go home. You stayed when everyone else took a two-hour break before the dinner prep and service. You didn’t want the chance to run into him. You knew he would be at work, but what if he came back early? Was Jenny mad at you too? You just couldn’t. Knowing your history, having worked with and known you for so long, Maria didn’t attempt to talk you out of anything. She moved around you, letting you process. You’ll come around when you’re ready.

When Sarah calmed her father down that morning, pleading with him to stop yelling at you, bravely defending you, a lady she had met for the first time three days before, you realized your eyes were so close to leaking, and that you didn’t want him to see them. You refused to let him know he got to you. So, you went inside and shut the door. You spent the entirety of your time back in your house crying your eyes out. Did you really cross the line by cooking for Sarah? He accused you of trying to poison her.

You checked the ingredients you used. Eggs, rice, salt, white pepper, and a pinch of your homemade MSG from the jar you brought from home, since you didn’t have soy sauce. You even halved the amount of salt you would normally use, taking heed of what Maria said. You hand squeezed so many oranges because you didn’t have a juicer, wanting to make sure Sarah had freshly squeezed orange juice instead of store bought.

It's your fault. You shouldn’t have presumed. You knew Sarah had a… condition. One that you were really trying not to pry about. And yet you cooked for her. Joel was right to yell at you. You crossed the line. Majorly.

The moment he accused you of trying to hurt his daughter, you shut down. Did he know what happened to Ellie? Was that why he got so angry? He thought you were going to hurt Sarah too? You would rather die.

Maria consoled you, telling you that in under no circumstances did you hurt Sarah. Joel was just being his usual grumpy ass - overprotective to the point of destruction. Jenny sent you a text, telling you to pay Joel no mind. He was just jumpy, still getting used to the new normal when it came to Sarah. Come by after work, okay? We’ll have a nice cup of tea. We’ll lock Joel in the basement.

During the break, an unknown number texted you, Omera, apparently. Jenny gave her your number. She had heard what happened and assured you that you were not to blame at all. Joel was just being a jackass. She will be sure to give him an earful when he comes back from work later. Let’s bake some muesli bars, yeah? Sarah loves them. You must know many great recipes. Tommy apologized for his donkey of a brother, but never you mind, the better-looking, funnier Miller is on your side. Winky face.

You had to admit, these people made you feel better. But no amount of light-hearted jokes and defence against Joel Miller’s wrath that morning could make you face him again that day.

---

That day turned into a week. You didn’t go home at all, except to pack a bag, and that’s only because Jenny assured you Joel was out of town for the day. Sarah hugged you so tightly Jenny had to pry her tiny hands off your neck. You slept in Maria’s office at the restaurant. Joel tried to come see you several times, but the moment you realized he was there, you forced yourself to hide in the office, your heart thumping dangerously fast, overwhelmingly so. You didn’t understand it. You didn’t want to see him, you knew that. But your body gravitated towards him every time he was there, it was like you needed to see him, although your head told you that that would be a bad idea. So, you hid, Maria given the task to chase him out and ban him from the restaurant while you were not ready.

Sarah made Jenny Facetime you at nights before bed. The first time she did so, Jenny was too overwhelmed to speak, hearing her beloved granddaughter calling her Gamma for the first time. She was so inconsolable you thought something bad had happened. On the third night of the call, Sarah told you Jello would like you to sing her a song. And not just any song. THE song. The one you used to sing for Ellie. It was a generic lullaby, but it was Ellie’s favourite. So you did, thinking you would break down in tears after not singing it for so long. But you didn’t. In fact, you felt… warm.

You had to sing the lullaby every night after that.

You only went back to the tiny house when Sarah begged you to, I miss you Lady, Jello miss you too. Her puppy dog eyes should be classified as weapons of mass destruction, complete with tears brimming them, making them seem larger than they really were. How the fuck do you say no to those eyes? So, the following Sunday, after lunch service, you decided you were done sleeping on Maria’s saggy couch, going back to your twin sized day bed. When Maria dropped you off, Joel’s cruiser was there. You froze, not wanting to go out. Maria comforted you, telling you that Jenny had threatened to “take Joel golfing” if he ever raised his voice at you again. So, you’ll be fine. Do this for Sarah, please?

Fine.

Wait, why was golfing a bad thing? Huh. He must just hate golfing or something.

You hoisted your backpack onto your shoulders and walked towards your tiny temporary dwelling. You got to your front door and realized you had placed your keys in the pack, so you lowered it, sat on the small rattan chair by the door and began checking the pockets for them. You heard Jenny’s kitchen door open. You could feel your head freeze. You knew it was him. You could feel his presence. You willed your head to not turn towards him, fingers frantically searching for the keys, your breath quickening. You could hear him shuffle about, putting his shoes on maybe, and you couldn’t help but stand and began throwing things out of the bag to get to the keys. You must have looked like a crazy person.

You could hear him step down from the kitchen when you finally found your keys. You scrambled to open your door, hearing his footsteps got closer and closer, and when you finally got it unlocked, you heard his soft baritone call your name, his footsteps ceased. You stepped into your threshold, and hurriedly closed the door behind you.

You leaned against your door, your heart beating uncomfortably fast. His footsteps had stilled. But you knew he was still out there. You could still feel him. You didn’t dare move. You finally heard him got up to your tiny porch and heard some shuffling and zipping and something placed against your door. Fuck! You left your pack outside! You held your breath. Why the fuck was this place so tiny? There was literally nowhere you could go to escape from this right now. No other room you could storm into and slam the door, be farther away from him, instead of just having this one door to separate the two of you.

You felt something lean against the door from the outside, a small thud followed. You could hear his breathing through the door. Your eyes began to fill with tears, hoping to God he doesn’t say anything, cause deep down, you knew that if he did, you would open the door for him. And the scary part was? You had no idea why. Even during the week you spent at the restaurant, your body wanted to go to him. You were so confused. One part of you really didn’t want to see him again, fearing the chastising and judgments that might come from him, just as it did the other day, while the other wanted to be in his presence so bad, it left your body tingling.

The thud sounded again, the door rattling slightly. You could hear his breathing tremble. “Fuck,” you heard him whisper. And the weight left the door, his feet shuffling for a while, before his footsteps left your porch.

---

You made sure to avoid Joel Miller for the rest of the day. That evening, Omera came knocking, asking you if you would join her, Winta and Sarah for a walk around the farm. It would be nice to get to know the lady that made Sarah open up, she said. You saw no harm in this, really wanting to see Sarah again, but you couldn’t stop looking around at Jenny’s, fearing you would see the Sheriff on his day off.

“He’s not coming,” Omera assured you. “It’s just us. Please?”

You grabbed your light jacket and followed her out. Jenny’s kitchen door opened, and a very bouncy Sarah came bounding out, Lady! Lady! You come back! Jello, Lady is here! She jumped on your left foot, hugging your leg, giving Jello to you to hold. Jenny and Omera joined in the laughter, even you couldn’t stop laughing. Jenny gave you a purple water bottle, in case Sarah got thirsty. As you took it, you saw the curtain in the upstairs window move again, and rather than look, you turned and began walking towards the farm, Sarah still clinging to your left foot.

You and Omera talked, got to know each other better. She was very sweet, and kept the conversation casual, not wanting to pry at all, and in return, you did the same. She’s a single mother, worked at the day care in town. Winta’s father left her when she found out she was pregnant with Winta. Jenny, her late husband Javi and the boys stepped up, helping her out in any way they can. They took her and Winta in and helped raise her.

“They are good people. I don’t know what I would have done if not for them.”

A very handsome, dirty blonde-haired man came out of the stables, not wearing anything except for dark old jeans. Winta and Sarah squealed and took off running towards him. He easily picked both of them up in his very buff arms, showering them both in kisses. He set them down, and they went off to play with the kittens that had just been found in the stables, some older men greeting them to show the kitties. Once he knew they were safe, he turned around and kissed Omera on the cheek. He held out his hand to you.

“Hello there, you must be Lady. Benjamin Miller, another of Jenny's boys.”

“Another Miller? Did Jenny take the whole Miller brood in or something?”

“An unfortunate coincidence. Those two are lucky they’re almost good looking enough to be a Miller,” he said, giving you a cheeky wink. “Heard you performed some kind of miracle with my niece there, Lady. Can’t wait for the day she finally calls me Benny, so far only squeals, giggles and laughter from her, not that I’m complaining.”

“Don’t you mean UNCLE Benny, Ben?” Omera jabbed.

“Nah… I’m young at heart baby! Young at heart!” he pounded on his chest a bit, took his shirt off the stable door and kissed you on the cheek, telling you with an easy wink he’d be seeing you around. “Off to the Gym!” he yelled, before getting on a dirt bike and riding off.

You felt so much lighter. Omera shook her head, telling you he’s a good man, and some lucky lady was going to have the great opportunity to raise him one day. You both howled with laughter. She called the girls over, telling them it’s teatime. The four of you sat at the picnic table by the pond, Omera taking sandwiches and fruit out of her pouch for the girls to help themselves.

Sarah sat Jello down between you and her, eating an egg sandwich. You watched her eat, trying to understand the pull this girl had on you. Omera offered you a sandwich, and watched you take a bite. She warned you the mayo might be a bit underwhelming. It’s Sarah’s special mayo. Huh?

“Joel wouldn’t let us give Sarah store bought mayo, and this one,” she said, rubbing Sarah’s head over the table, “loveeessss them, don’t you?”

Sarah nodded enthusiastically, mouth full of eggs and bread.

“She loves anything with eggs in them. Took Joel a while to reconcile with that fact. Eggs are high in cholesterol, you see,” she said, her eyes looking at you playfully, meaningfully, as if you were supposed to get the joke behind it, which, you found, you did. “See, when she was sick, eating the wrong thing would mean weeks in the hospital. When she first started eating solids, she took some fries from Winta’s plate without us noticing, and this one,” she said, pinching Winta in the cheek, “loves her fries extra salty. Her face blew up within hours. All swollen. Joel freaked out. He came back from the hospital with a long list of things that we shouldn’t serve to her. She was a weak baby to begin with, always struggling to breathe, so we just… followed his orders. I know I would freak out too, if it was Winta.”

“I can imagine.” You thought of Ellie, you were lucky she didn’t have any allergies but if she did, you knew for a fact you would fight whatever and whomever to make sure the allergens never got anywhere near her.

“So, when she got better, we thought he would ease up, you know? What happened with you, had happened with every single one of us before. He almost tore Tommy’s head off for giving her a small bite off his buttered toast. I swear he didn’t talk to me for a week when he found out I gave her a small handful of those Goldfish crackers,” she said, her eyes looking at you earnestly. “Please know, it’s not you he’s attacking. He’s just scared for her.”

You kept quiet. You want to believe her. But the insecurity and hurt was still fresh.

“Joel’s a good guy, Lynn. He was not himself that morning. He was overworked, tired, emotional, you were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. I mean, if it weren’t for him, I don’t know what I would do. He is a good guy. Give him a chance to say sorry, okay? Hear him out when he tries. Please?”

“DADDY! NO! NO LOOK!!!” Sarah yelled.

“YEAH PAPA JOEL. NO LOOK!!!” Winta joined in.

You whipped your head around. Joel was lingering near the fences leading to the farm, obviously spying on the four of you. Omera heaved a heavy sigh. She got up and walked over to him, his features full of guilt. They talked a bit, her more than him, and she placed her hand on his face, and gave him a lingering kiss on his cheek. He took her hand in his, held it for a while, and reluctantly pulled away, walking back towards the house.

Ah... You thought. She was trying to make sure you would give her man a chance. She didn’t want you to think badly of him huh? Well, he couldn’t even trust you enough to be in Sarah’s presence without spying on you, even with his lady present, so why should you hear him out? Or perhaps he thought you were going to poison his other ladies too? Was that why she had to comfort him? The cheek of this guy.

“Sorry about that,” Omera said, sitting back down. “That guy needs to learn to let go of some of his boundaries.”

Sarah began getting distracted by some ducks. So, Winta took her to the water edge, and your conversations with Omera turned light, eyes on the girls.

When you got back, you dropped Sarah off at Jenny’s, Joel opening the door. He watched as Sarah hugged you, as you gave his daughter kisses, gave Jello tickles, a small smile on his face, which quickly disappeared when you got back up to go home, eyes avoiding his, ignoring his muttered thanks.

From your kitchen window, you saw Joel pass Sarah to Jenny, before leaving his house, walking over to Omera’s.

You were relieved he did not try to come talk to you.

But your heart felt heavier seeing him walk into the nice, beautiful, single mother’s house next door.

---

Monday morning came. The restaurant was closed on Mondays. You took the opportunity to spring clean, do your laundry, and some grocery shopping. When you got out of the store, earphones on, music at low volume, trying to arrange the groceries in your small basket and backpack, his familiar voice interrupted you.

“Can I give you a ride?”

You didn’t know why, you knew it was childish, he was trying, being a gentleman, but you pretended not to hear him. You calmly put your pack on, turned the other way, got on your bike and pedalled out, staying as calmly as you could, willing yourself not to look back. You really wanted to pat yourself on the back for your astounding newfound ability not react at all. At least you didn’t just dump your bike and pack and run off this time.

That evening, you took Sarah out around the farm on your bike, and by that, you meant your one hand on the handle, her on the seat, holding on to your hand, your other hand on her back, while you walked alongside the bike, Jello happily perched in the basket. She was chattering with you about… ticks? Sticks? You had no idea. But you were glad she was at ease enough with you to talk.

By the time you got back to Jenny’s kitchen door, Benny was just leaving it, having just visited his mother. He greeted Sarah like she was his favourite person in the world, which, knowing Sarah, she probably was. This kid was too cute and too adorable to resist. He was talking to her, excitedly checking out your bike as if it was her ‘ride’ as he called it, pretending to ask her about the engines and the horse powers, marvelling at the basket Jello was sitting in, admiring the dump of a helmet you had placed on her cute little head. She took the helmet off, and placed it on his head, the scratched silver thing looking stupidly small on it, and he posed with it for her, gave her his phone, perched Jello on his shoulder and asked her to take a picture. She was giggling like crazy, obviously loving this uncle of hers.

When he turned to leave after covering her face in smooches, her tiny voice shyly said, “Bye Benny.”

The hunk of a man stopped in his tracks. He picked her up, threw her in the air, and hugged her so tight she squealed, her laughter, as well as his loud whoops ringing in the air. Jenny came out to see what was causing the commotion – he proudly told her Sarah called him Benny!!! He set Sarah down, and picked you up in a crushing hug, spinning you around, and planted a big wet long smacking kiss on your lips, his face the definition of glee. “Thank you,” he whispered to you. “Sorry for the kiss. I got excited. Please don’t punch me.”

You laughed out loud, smacking him in the chest a little. When he set you down, you gave him a kiss on his cheek, so happy to see this manchild happy.

You turned around to go home, only to be faced with Joel, carrying a sleeping Winta in his arms, Omera by his side. His eyes left yours to glare at Benny, who was still jumping with glee while skipping back to the farm, unaware of the look of devastation in his brother’s eyes.

---

PART 5

[amuseoffyre]

Have had a couple of days and a rewatch and some mulling to put together my thoughts:

The good:

the writing - I've talked at length about the use of metaphor, symbolism, allegory and the like to add meat and substance to the narrative

the continuity tied in to S1 and the foreshadowing coming full circle, plus running themes continuing

the music is flawless throughout - both the soundtrack with songs and the original score and the way old motifs are used to add parallels and depth to scenes

the acting across the board has been staggeringly good. Especially for Taika, Rhys and Con. I can see why so many reviews had been raving about it.

the bits of set-up for S3 that have been planted if/when they get it

new characters who are an absolute delight

Family Trauma the TV show - intense to watch but cathartic af

Badass ladies and the soft boys who love them

Auntie.

The bad:

too much story and not enough time to tell it

sacrificing a lot of crew-related stuff - I know this is primarily the Ed and Stede story, but we're told that Olu was always talking about Zheng, but we never even got a single line of it. Buttons' disappearance gets one sus line. We gloss over the probation and why Ed is back in his leathers literally the next day. Again, I know, time constraints, but it does feel weaker for it.

speedrunning so much that it's taken several rewatches to catch everything that's going on - yes, it can work as a narrative device, but not all the time

still not over Zheng falling for Ricky's gift. Do not trust the aristocratic white dude, especially not when you've been blackmailing him. And I know there's some logical sense to her being so used to being able to manipulate desperate people on the fringes with both carrot and stick, but it feels like severe underestimation on her part about how ruthless and cruel and petty Ricky could be. He's not like the pirates - he has the power and privilege and it feels like she ignored that.

whatever that Teal Oranges pivot was so Jim could have a girlfriend, especially since they didn't have time/space to actually develop the Olu/Zheng and Jim/Archie stuff. Archie was barely a scrape of characterisation because of time constraints.

The ... Forbs Boding

Izzy - it falls under the typical archetype of Loss of a Role Model especially given all Ed's dad issues, which I thought we were beyond, but then it also fits with the running motif of the show of change, death and rebirth. We've had confirmation of the existence of a place between life and death plus a character who was beaten to death coming back from it and a seawitch turning up at the grave. I can see why it was done as it has been foreshadowed since "the only retirement we get is death" but after all his growth in S2, having Ricky be the one to get the jump on him is... hm. I feel like they had him and Ricky talking and Ricky causing his death for a reason. Feels like there's set-up for S3 planted and ready. My Forbs, they are A-Boding. ffs, they Obi-Wanned him right after he did a speech about "our spirit will last beyond your whole fucking empire". Strike me down and I will become more powerful than you can possibly imagine vibes.

The way trauma is/isn't being dealt with - I feel like there's stuff there that is set up for S3 as well, because we've seen how Stede is still bottling all his stuff and hasn't dealt with any of it, while Ed has done some processing and started to make peace with himself over it. Stede still has his mental lockbox and while he tries to pretend it isn't there, it still informs so many of his decisions.

All the Star Wars vibes - I've always been convinced this was the Empire Strikes Back season and now, they have all the pieces in play for the Return of the Jedi arc: Stede and Ed are together and recovering but will have a role to play, Izzy is in carbonite with a seawitch control panel, their allies are out there getting pieces in place, and the Imperial figurehead villain who showed up in S2 is still out there and convinced he holds all the power. And I just realised that this means that if they use Hornigold, he's the equivalent of Boba Fett - Bounty Hunter for the Empire XD

On the whole, I am content with it and am already having thoughts about the potential for S3, but I find it incredibly frustrating knowing how much more it could have been with the budget/time they wanted and didn't get.

[clavissionary-position]

Ikeprinces Ranked By Birthday Candle Extinguishing Skills

*A baseline of 34 candles is used

1. CHEVALIER

You came here today hoping to see Chevalier blow out 34 candles with a single huff of his laugh. You leave here today after seeing Chevalier chuck his sword at an intruding Clavis, where the mere act of drawing said-sword produced a blade of wind so supreme that not only the candles on his cake but all candles in a 10-room radius were decimated down to their quivering wicks.

2. LUKE

You would think Luke would have no problem. He’s a Big Fuccin Lad with Big Fuccin Lungs. And you'd be right, except he gets bored during the process of you lighting 34 candles and decides he'd much rather get to work on devouring you first. Your make-out sesh lasts up until you see the still-burning near-stub shape of 34 candles out of the corner of your eye. At which point Luke does the whole snuffing-a-flame-out-with-one's-fingers thing except it's 34 candles versus his gigantic fist.

3. JIN

You’ve set the cake down in front of him; he’s distracting you with playful acts of misplaced hands and roaming lips; you're both chatting, laughing, and somewhere amidst that revelry he leans over and takes all 34 spirited flames out with little more than a casual exhale. The candles are in the way now, and you two happily work them off the cake before putting the dessert to more stimulating use.

4. SARIEL

Your unwavering faith in him in the face of this celebratory sea of fire is enough to marshal the air in his lungs out through his bewitching, decadently puckered lips. Not that the candles wouldn't have already voluntarily noped off the cake in perfect rank-and-file regardless of your presence, but you being here today makes Sariel lean into mischief. (Candle POV: OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY—*cut off by static*)

5. YVES

He trips while carrying the cake and the candles put themselves out. That's what the preliminary report written by an anti-Obsidian palace minister says, anyway. In reality, Yves strategically and deftly rearranges the candles before you light them. The new formation is much easier to take down with minimal exertion. The most touching moment is not when he takes out all the candles at once, but when he sits back, satisfied, chest puffed out while his eyes are wide with disbelief that he’s actually able to get something right.

6. RIO

Rio can do anything he sets his mind to if you set his mind onto it first. When you surprise him with the cake, he clearly reads the expectation in your glittering gaze. He knows you don’t care if he can take out all the candles in one go or not, but he still has his pride. He pulls his chair closer to the cake before giving you that charming, blue sky of a smile and holding both your hands under the table. At the end of a simple countdown that he gives himself, he wipes all the flames across the board so spectacularly that you feel as though you’ve witnessed a magic trick.

7. LICHT

He blows out 33 but the final candle refuses to yield. Palms on either side of the cake now, Licht leans in, his brow set into a stern line. He draws a deep breath while eyeing you to make sure you're a safe distance away. You don’t see him exchange that fleeting, somber glance with Nokto. It is the hidden conversation of wombmates: if something happens to Licht, Nokto is to look after you. After making peace with his fate, Licht squares his shoulders, zeroes in on the remaining candle, and puckers his lips...

8. NOKTO

He blows out more than half, presumably exhausting his skills, before spontaneously refusing to extinguish the rest unless you do him a favor in return. Apparently this favor has nothing to do with giving him a kiss or letting him get handsy with you because he’s already doing that as he presents the deal. Stripping? You two were naked to begin with. So what is it then? When you ask Nokto to elaborate, he pins you to the bed and asks if you’ll replace the candles with carrots because that would make things a whole lot easier for him. You follow-up with the perfectly valid point of “blowing out burning carrots means you’re rescuing them.” A point which Nokto begrudgingly accepts before quickly blowing out the rest of the candles so he can bury himself inside you.

9. LEON

34 candles is no problem for him, but he would much rather intentionally draw the process out and extinguish only a handful at a time. Poor Leon, he's having suuuuch a tough time of it. You’ll help out, won't you? Sit on his lap while you work together? This cake business is really digging into his private time with you. Wouldn’t it be better to just leave it for now and… He grins at your insistence, suddenly walking off, but coming back behind you and surprising you so astoundingly that your yelp extinguishes the rest of the candles before being cut off by a whirlwind kiss.

10. KEITH

He is absolutely determined not to let his alter switch in for this. If he can't do something as simple as blow out 34 birthday candles then what hope does he have of looking かっこいい in your eyes? After several minutes of tense discussion, both Keiths arrive at an agreement to let Shy Keith have 50 attempts to get it right before Wicked Keith steps in to save the birthday. Of course you’re fully aware that the only reason such a ridiculous margin would be offered is if a certain someone had no intention of interfering in the first place. Nevertheless it takes Shy Keith 49 tries to get every single candle in one go, just as he’s always dreamed. Like a tiny supernova in the darkness of the greenhouse. Before a couple of nearby plants catch fire.

11. SILVIO

He blows all 34 candles out in one flashy exhale, and all 34 candles instantly revive in one sassy flicker. He glares at you, then, as if you and the candles and Rio are conspiring together. But the truth is he's just embarrassed and mad at himself for looking like such a loser in front of you. Carlo gets ordered to produce a second cake with more agreeable candles. You snap at Silvio about wasting a perfectly good cake. You try not to be grumpy about it for the duration of the party, but it’s hard to stay mad when the first cake reappears in your shared bedroom later with a very different fate in store for it… "Dammit, do I gotta spell it out!? I'm sayin' I need you to blow the damn candles out for me first!"

12. GILBERT

He could resort to a simple stage trick to avoid exerting himself at all if he so wanted, but instead he refuses to engage with the candles altogether in favor of casually threatening you to do it for him. When you childishly complain that his birthday wish won’t come true like this, he gently cups your face and assures you that your wish is more than enough to count for his (while also being conducive to the world’s continued existence).

13. CLAVIS

It’s like a music box. Or a self-playing piano. Each syllable of his infamous laughter triggers a subset of the candles to go out. When all is said and done, you push the birthday hellcat aside to investigate, but to your surprise, the candles are totally legita… no they’re not. And why do they smell like that!? Clavis wraps an arm around your waist to give you a tour of how his miraculous candles work… and how edible they are, down to the wick. He gets last-place for using his own materials but first-place for showmanship and inventing edible flammable non-toxic candles in the medieval age.