#currently trying to flush out a little comic

[marlshroom]

drawing an idea where carmen has to bring a plus one into a very exclusive party to stop vile from doing no good and brings ivy but then they both run into julia....

[theemporium]

congrats on 10k lovelyyyyyy!!! truly deserving, your works are some of my favorites on this app 🫶🏻 may i order a 💜 "I can't smile at you, I'm mad." with nico hischier ?!! lots of love for youuuu

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

1."I can't smile at you, I'm mad."

.

“Fancy seeing you here.” 

Nico shot you an unamused look as he held the door open, long enough for the nurse in the room to sense the tension in the air and quickly scamper off. He flashed the nurse a thankful smile before letting the door close behind her, turning his attention back to you. 

“This isn’t funny,” he said eventually.

“It’s a little funny,” you countered, watching as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Okay, but in my defence, I didn’t think anything bad would actually happen.” 

“How is that your defence?” Nico countered with a frown.

“It’s all I could think of in the twenty minutes it took for you to arrive,” you admitted with a sheepish expression.

“Baby,” he sighed heavily. 

“Is this the part where you tell me I told you so?” You asked, still lighthearted and teasing as if you weren’t currently sitting on the hospital bed with your ankle all bandaged up from an accident that could have very easily been avoided. 

It was a running argument between you and Nico for the duration of your time spent in the apartment. You had moved in together over a year ago and it was absolutely perfect, minus the fact the top shelves of the cupboards were just out of your reach. 

It wasn’t too bad, considering most of the things on the top shelves were things you and Nico barely used in your everyday life. It was rare for you to reach for them, and even when you did, Nico was usually in the flat to help grab them for you. 

The argument stemmed from the day he came back home after practice to find you on the kitchen counter. Nico deemed it too unsafe, that you could fall or slip off when straining to get something from the shelf. You said he was being a bit dramatic, that you had done it plenty of times before with ease. 

The boy near had a heart attack every time he witnessed it in person. 

Now, here you were in the hospital, ankle wrapped up with an x-ray confirming it was broken and an odd sense of embarrassment towards the fact that Nico was right, that it was unsafe, that this all happened because you had the urge to bake and the cake tins were right at the back of the shelf. 

The doctors had called your emergency contact—Nico—after the x-rays had confirmed the fracture.

“Babe,” he said once again, his brows furrowed together as he shook his head. “I’m not happy about being right, you know that, right?” 

“You have to be a little bit smug though,” you countered. 

“My girlfriend broke her ankle and had to find her way to hospital alone,” Nico stated as he rounded the bed, like he needed some reassurance that you were okay as he reached for your hand. “Nothing about that sentence makes me feel happy or smug.” 

“Nico, baby, I’m fine,” you reassured him, squeezing his hand before patting a spot on the bed for him to sit down. “It’s not the end of the world and, overall, it’s funny. Now, c’mon, smile for me.” 

“I can’t smile at you, I’m mad,” Nico muttered but took a seat on the bed, perched at the edge like he didn’t want to take too much space. Which was just comical with the size of him. “What if I was away on a roadie? Or what if something more serious than a broken ankle happened? What if—”

“You know why I love you so much?” You cut him off, watching as the boy flashed you a confused look. “Because you care so much. You had such a big heart and you are so, so sweet.” 

His cheeks flushed a little. “Stop trying to butter me up.” 

“I’m only telling you the truth,” you retorted before squeezing his hand once more, tugging him a little closer so you could lean in and peck his lips. “I’m sorry for worrying you. And I’m sorry for not listening to you about the kitchen counter. You were right.” 

“I’m sorry for being so hard on you,” he murmured in reply, leaning in for a longer kiss before his shoulders dropped a little in relief. “I swore my heart stopped when I saw all the missed calls and voicemails. I think Jack had to catch me a little when I realised it was from the hospital. I thought something really bad had happened and—”

“Instead it was just your pretty girlfriend busting her ankle whilst trying to bake?” You finished for him, a smile on your lips. “God, at least I never managed to get anything in the oven or we would have bigger problems to deal with.”

Nico snorted despite himself. “Shut up.” 

“There’s that smile I love,” you grinned happily, your finger lightly poking the dimple of his cheek. “Plus, look at the bright side.”

Nico raised his eyebrows. “And what’s that?” 

“I now have an excuse for you to carry me around,” you joked, something in your stomach twisting to see that dimple once again. 

Instead, his expression softened as he raised your hand to press a kiss against your knuckles. “I’d carry you wherever you wanna go, baby. Gonna take care of my girl,” he said with so much sincerity. 

“My own knight in shining armour,” you sighed happily.

“More like a sexy nurse,” he corrected, something quite like amusement shining in his eyes. “If I was your knight in shining armour, I would have caught you when you fell. Easy.” 

.

[faustianfascination]

the tyrant's bell

Kinktober 10. Cockwarming | Face Fucking

Words: 1439 Pairing: Silvio x Emma (ikemen prince)

Tags: NSFW! MDNI! cockwarming, orgasm denial, exhibitionism, established relationship

Silvio decided to punish Emma by making her sit still during his trade negotiations with Nokto. Notes: I'm supposed to be finishing my fic for the predator prey prompt but this has idea has been stuck in my head. Oh well, who said Kinktober follows linear time.

Silvio's new desk was absurdly ostentatious, even for him. This great marble slab set upon golden, fish detailed legs seemed to have an almost dalmatian like pattern to suit his crest. Emma hated to think how much Silvio had spent on this, let alone how long he'd sent poor Carlo out to search for it. Her eyes kept drifting to the fish details on the legs, those weren't sapphires surely? Even her beloved gaudy tyrant wouldn't encrust his desk legs with sapphires right?

At this point she thought that nothing he could do would surprise her, but as if to mock her hubris she was currently using every once of self control to sit still on his lap as his cock was buried in her while he sat at his new ridiculous desk, negotiating with Nokto.

Her back leaning on his chest for support, his hand squeezing her hip as she sat on his lap, they looked all the part of a romantic couple who just wanted to be together. In reality Emma was reminding herself that she did in fact love Silvio, even if at this moment she wanted to throttle him. Her body had been like this before Nokto had arrived, some punishment or other he'd devised after getting jealous of her and Nokto dancing together at last nights ball. If only she'd not been so weary she'd fallen asleep before he'd gotten back; it had given him too much time to sulk. Truthfully, she'd been enjoying the punishment until Silvio not only invited Nokto in for tea, the two started negotiating and had been at it for what felt like forever.

Emma tried keeping her eyes on the desk, counting the spots to distract from how oversensitive and wanting her body was. Only to fail every time Silvio decided to shift in his chair just enough to stimulate her. He was doing this on purpose she thought. Trying to maintain what was left of her dignity she held on tighter to her tea cup, trying to avoid Nokto's eyes. Usually, she would be thrilled to have the chance to watch these two negotiate, seeing their insight and intelligence on display, learning about all the complexities of commerce but right now all she could think of was how much his girthy cock was stretching her, how much she wanted him to move as she was going mad. Occasionally she got her own back, clenching around him as tight as she could, enjoying the way his breath would hitch and the pinch on her hip telling her to knock it off. She could feel the puddle around Silvio's crotch from how long he'd held her like this and it was both erotic and uncomfortable. Her nipples was hard, every movement against the fabric of her slip and corset just adding to the sensations building up. She'd been here so long she could feel every ridge, every vein, every twitch and it was getting to the point she couldn't hold it together much longer. She took another sip of her now cold tea and put the cup back on the saucer with so much force that she swore she'd heard it crack. This unfortunately caused both men to look her way.

"You ok there Emma, you're looking a little flushed? This tyrant overworking you? Or did I charm you so much last night that you're considering returning to Rhodolite?" Nokto smirked flirtatiously, winking those scarlet eyes

"Mind ya own damn business foxface" Silvio snapped "my fiance's health is none of ya concern"

"I'm just being polite jangles, you might want to try it sometime" the exasperation in Nokto's voice paired with the eye roll was almost comical, if Emma wasn't trying not to give into the temptation to ride the jangler audience be damned.

Silvio met it with a scoff as he proceeded to lean forward and ring the bell on his desk to summon Rio or Carlo, a deep resonant sound filling the office and another movement making his cock press her sweet spot. Rio strolled in but before he could even speak Silvio barked at him to get more tea, she didn't hear exactly what Rio said in response but the words 'tyrannical' and 'jackass' seemed to be involved. The last thing she needed was Silvio and Rio breaking into another fight. Last week she was forced to squirt a plant mister at them to get the pair to snap out of it.

By the time a new set of tea was presented she had taken to clenching around him in an unpredictable rhythm, she made him stutter mid sentence much to her pride. If she was suffering so was he. Only, Silvio took the opportunity when everyone was distracted by tea to give her a subtle thrust that made her nearly drop her tea cup. Emma was almost delirious with lust at this point as Silvio and Nokto debated back and fourth over trading terms. They couldn't seem to come to a conclusion until Nokto suggested something so stupid she wanted to slap him. A future queen of Benitoite could slap the 7ht prince of Rhodolite right? Surely that would be allowed.

"How about we settle this with a round of chess?" he suggested Silvio grinned devilishly as Emma looked back at him "why don't ya just give me what I want foxface, or do you get off on loosing"

"Remember who taught who" Nokto scoffed as he reached over to Silvio's bell. Emma finally hit breaking point. She slammed her tea cup down, breaking both the cup and saucer this time making everyone freeze, even Silvio seemed slightly shocked

"Deciding trade policy over a GAME!?! This is ridiculous! You two need a time out. RIO" Emma had been working on being more commanding as fitting her future role, today she finally managed it by bringing this tomfoolery to a close due to the sheer annoyance stemming from her frustration. Rio hopped into the room practically wagging his tail at Emma's call, she instructed him to take Nokto for a tour of the new rose gardens she'd been overseeing. Nokto to his credit read the room and gracefully exited with a polite bow. She could feel Silvio beginning to giggle at her sudden forthrightness

"Lady-" Silvio was cut off as Emma grabbed the arm rests and lifted herself, pulling herself off his cock until only the tip remains and using every ounce of her strength to slam down hard, making the chair shake beneath them and Silvio moan. The movement and sensation of his cock stroking her walls making her burn up instantly at the feeling. Silvio finally shut up, reduced to panting seeming as overwhelmed as she was. She began repeating the process, riding the tyrant as hard as she could

"I cannot believe you" she panted as she slammed down again "you" she panted as she lifted herself again "ARROGANT" slam "BEJEWELLED" slam "BULLY" the word morphing into a strangled moan as her final slam into his lap sent her over the edge and making her whole body tremble. The marble of the desk was a welcome source of coolness on her forehead as she slumped forward after her climax. Her cunt was still fluttering and legs shaky but she pulled herself up as soon as she could manage because she was done with Silvio's nonsense.

Except she didn't get very far when Silvio grabbed her and the world shifted, suddenly feeling the cool marble of his desk against her back. The contents of the desk having been swept onto the floor, piles of notes for the trade deal fluttering to the in the air.

He kissed her breathless, pinning her to the desk, his warmth, the feeling of his solid and muscular body caging her down and making her desire build again. When he broke the kiss, his ocean eyes were molten with desire which contrasted with the blush spreading from his ears. Without warning she felt the fabric of her dress tear, the decorations pining off in all directions while he grabbed his letter opening dagger to cut her corset the slip off. The cool air now caressing her naked body, Silvio's eyes savouring the sight, licking his lips like a hungry beast.

"After that, you ain't goin' nowhere" he growled as he descended on her again. The ridiculous desk scraping slightly on the floor, the bell beginning to sound as he started ravishing her in earnest.

*-*-*

Carlo heard the bell sounding insistently, he knew Silvio was impatient but this was ridiculous. As he reached for the door knob his ears picked up the squeak of a table moving and muffled moans from behind the door. Carlo knew better than to interrupt that but he was worried if the marble slab could withstand Silvio, the thought of trying to source another one made his head start to throb.

[anathemaspeaks]

can i please get fluff number 13, "delete that! i look disgusting." and 14, "your flirting is so bad it's adorable." with gojo 😁

here you go 🫶

requests are open! (please request stuff)

check out my prompt list.

you stood in front of satoru, arms flailing around comically, trying to jump up and reach the phone in his hand. you never stood a chance. he just stayed in the same position, an arm lazily outstretched above his head, eyes filled with glee and laughs escaping his throat at your futile attempts at capturing his phone from him.

"delete that! i look disgusting" you demanded, thoroughly annoyed by his antics, hair messy, with both of you standing on top of your bed.

"disgusting? i happen to think this is your best picture yet!" he said, eyes filled with mirth, mocking your current helpless state, the wide grin on his face ever-present.

"gojo satoru-"

"not the full government name" he gasped, seemingly offended. drama queen.

the picture of you was downright horrendous. you were napping, mouth wide open, a little bit of drool on the side, head on your pillow with your hair as wild as a bird's nest. and click! he took a picture, being the spectacular friend he is.

but ever the dumbass, the shutter sound woke you up, which brought you to your current predicament.

you tried to reach up again, only this time, you lost your balance and landed right into his toned chest, causing you both to topple down onto your plush bed, with you falling on top of him. red from both the intimacy and frustration, you were still trying your hardest to retrieve his phone.

"that picture is a national threat" you reasoned, trying to convince him, looking into his eyes.

"national treasure, you mean?" he asked with a small smirk, eyes boring into yours. oh. they're really blue. now mere inches away from him, with you straddling his body with your own, you realized he was blushing, light pink dusting his cheeks.

"oh, so you want it because you want me, huh?" you teased. what you weren't expecting was for him to blush even more, now completely flustered.

"n-no!" he started, eyes shifting away from yours, the cocky demeanor from a minute ago now gone. "it's just for blackmail, because-"

"aw, your flirting is so bad it's adorable" you interrupted, catching your tongue when you realized what you just said. he paused.

"adorable, huh?" he looked into your eyes again, cocky smirk reappearing. shit. now you were the one blushing and avoiding his ardent stare.

the air had changed all too quickly, the witty comeback dying on your tongue at the sheer intensity of his gaze. you let out a meek "maybe," and that was all the confirmation he needed.

he tiled his chin, fingers lightly grazing your jaw and pulling you closer, noses almost touching. you could feel his teasing smile, the glint in his eyes shifting from playfulness to fondness and uncertainty, searching yours for permission.

you leaned down, and his mouth captured yours in a soft, hesitant kiss. warmth flooded through your body, eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of his lips on yours. you moved your hands into his hair, only breaking apart when you both were breathless, matching soft smiles on both of your flushed faces.

he tucked a strand your hair behind your ear gently, before letting his hand rest on your cheek with an unfamiliar shyness in his eyes.

"i should blackmail you more often" he quipped, breaking the silence, the stupidly handsome smirk back on his face.

"shut up" you mumbled, rolling your eyes. a smile tugged at your lips nevertheless.

"make me" he replied, voice deep and smooth, already leaning up to capture your lips in another kiss.

sorry this is bad 😭

likes, reblogs, and follows are appreciated <3

[weird-bookworm]

sypnosis: what happens when you wake up as your best friend (crush, actually, but nobody needs to know about that) one day...

warnings: mention of being drunk

word count: 1.1k

event masterlist

you are currently sitting on a very uncomfortable and, unfortunately, familiar bed right now. the bed is not yours, and neither is the room. it belongs to a man you know very well, though you would rather not know him at all (lies). the biggest problem is trying (and failing) to ignore the fact that said man is your best friend.

you exhale sharply. this is not how you were expecting your day to go. you’re internally grateful that it is the weekend and you won’t have to miss a class because of this. small wins, you suppose.

the feeling of being in someone else’s body is weird, no matter how familiar the person is. you’ve always seen the sharp eyes, the big hands and the defined body of your best friend, but have never felt it like this. it is a strangely intimate feeling. you stare at your hands, opening and closing them, inspecting every single crease of the skin on each knuckle.

somewhere in the back of your head, a little voice which sounds suspiciously like seungkwan’s points out how you can now look at these minute details even when you switch back. you flush at the idea but dismiss it.

standing up, you go to the full length mirror in the corner of the room. it feels like a requirement to see yourself in soonyoung’s body, to tell yourself that it is finally time to meet your soulmate, even though you’ve known him since practically forever.

he is pretty, to say the least. the bedhead is adorable and his eyes shine as if they house galaxies. you’ve always known he’s handsome, even told him so when both of you were drunk enough, but you were always so shy to actually look at him and admire. so you take your time to fully look at him, take in the slope of his nose and the plush of his lips, the softness of his cheeks and the tiny imperfections on his skin.

just as you are contemplating having a peek beneath his tee, you’re broken out of your daze, wincing when you hear a sudden thud from outside the door. you internally groan at the prospect of dealing with his roommates in this situation.

“soonyoung?” a muffled voice calls out. you sigh, not really wanting to interact with his roommates, but open the door. you’re met with the sight of a ruffled wonwoo with bed hair.

“jihoon called, asked me to wake you up. why do you look like that?” he points to the furrow of your brows.

“good morning wonwoo, y/n here.”

his face is comical as it goes through the five stages of grief and realisation dawns on his face. you would’ve laughed at his dilemma too, if the situation wasn’t so annoying.

you sigh again, louder this time, and stomp back into the room. you pick up soonyoung’s phone, grab wonwoo’s arm on the way out of the room, take the car keys and go straight to their shared car. you silently hand him the keys and get in the passenger seat. he wordlessly gets in as well and starts driving to your dorms.

you and wonwoo have always gotten along well, but this has to be the most tense silence you have ever experienced with him, aside from when the two of you get competitive while playing games.

he finally breaks the quiet when you are near the dorms. “do you really hate the idea of him being your soulmate so much?”

you let out an incredulous scoff, “i’ve dealt with this idiot for too many years, now you’re telling me i have to deal with him my entire life?” he giggles at that, “you’re glad it’s him, aren’t you?”

“...of course i am. he just has shit taste in mattresses so i barely got any sleep after the swap.” both of you give each a smile, well aware how grumpy you get with lack of sleep, and with that you reach your dorms.

soonyoung visits you so much that the receptionist lets you guys in easily, and you punch in the code to your room when you reach the door. wonwoo trails behind you as you make your way to your bedroom, to find soonyoung— or you— sprawled across the bed.

weird is an understatement for what you feel when you see yourself like this, but you push it aside. instead, you simply switch on the lights and turn off the fan, a surefire way to wake you up. as expected, soonyoung groans and sits up in a haze, swaying lightly before blinking and actually shrieking as soon as his— her’s?— eyes land on you. both you and wonwoo wince from the sheer volume of the panicked screech.

“shh, shh, shh,” you hurry forward to press your palm against his mouth, “the walls are thin, it’s just us, stop yelling!”

wonwoo excuses himself out of the room, though neither of you notice, because only a few seconds later, you feel like the room is floating upside down and suddenly, you’re facing soonyoung, still with his hand over your mouth.

shit, you’d forgotten that touching reserves the switch. both of you freeze as soon as your eyes meet, unsure what to do next. there is an awkward silence, and it really makes your brain itch because silences around soonyoung are not something that exist.

“you didn’t let me enjoy the day even a little as you,” soonyoung pouts, voice uncharacteristically soft. the complaint is so sudden and just so soonyoung, you can’t help but snort. you decide to be bold, figuring you have nothing to lose anyway.

“i mean, you can enjoy the day with me instead?”

his eyes widen as you directly address the elephant in the room. “are you really my soulmate?” he whispers, leaning forward in anticipation but also nibbling on his lip, as if he is afraid this will turn out to be a dream.

you cup his cheeks in response, the weight in your palms somehow feeling as if it belongs there, “of course i am, silly. we’re here, aren’t we?” seeing him nervous isn’t new, but its still unfamiliar, and it really makes you forget all about teasing him or acting annoyed.

“because…i like you a lot.” he avoids your gaze as he mutters the confession, and all you can do is get so incredibly endeared. “i like you a lot too, baby,” you lean forward to press your lips against his forehead as silent reassurance, a promise that you will stay for eternity.

fate has, after all, already given you a reason to stay.

taglist: @eternalgyu @aaniag @haecien @addicsvt @arafilez @kikohao @bittersweet-folder

©️ weird-bookworm 2024 . do not copy, repost, steal or translate my works in any shape, form or manner without my permission

[freesia-writes]

Ch 39: Finding Footing

Master List ~~ Previous Chapter ~~ WC: 3.3k

Song: “Somewhere Only We Know” by Keane

.

Somehow, things felt familiar and novel all at once, like pulling on a well-worn pair of boots, perfectly fitted to one’s feet, then embarking on a new adventure.

Hunter followed the familiar path through the trees, listening to Lyra’s feet crunching behind, and took a deep inhale, comforted by the rich scents of wood and leaves, the faint musk of animals, and the even fainter salt of the sea. Sensing watchful eyes on him, he stopped abruptly. Lyra crashed right into his back. With a stumble and a chuckled apology, she peered out from behind him curiously.

“What is it?” she whispered. 

“We’re not alone,” he murmured in response, immediately hearing her heart begin to pound in her chest as her body flushed with adrenaline. “Just an animal,” he explained further, feeling her relax slightly as she let out a tiny breath. 

“A scary one?” she asked with an almost childlike tone.

“Not if you handle it right.”

“Somehow that’s less than soothing.”

She heard nothing, but he heard every step as a good-sized chriscat slunk into sight on the path ahead of them, head lowered, golden eyes fixed on them. Its shoulders rippled as it moved with painstaking care, large paws spreading onto the dirt as each one was placed slowly in front of the other. 

“What do we do?” she breathed over his shoulder. 

“Stand tall and don’t break eye contact,” he responded, stretching to his full height. He took a few steps toward it, lowering his own head and fixing it with a stare that gave it pause. A low snarl formed in its throat as it watched him, uncertain. Hunter moved a single arm to his waist, a sliding sound revealing a vibro-blade that glinted in the light, and a growl rumbled from his own chest as he squared his shoulders at the animal. 

“Damn, that’s hot,” Lyra said under her breath, and Hunter would have laughed aloud if not for the imminent danger of the big cat currently stalking them. 

He noticed its muscles tensing, and his brows lowered as he flipped the knife in his hand, fingers grasping the blade. Without warning, he let out a bloodcurdling yell and flung it at the cat. It spun through the air before burying itself in the tree trunk next. to the animal’s face, and the creature flinched in surprise, scrambling to run away from the sudden, startling attack. Hunter ran after it for a few steps, stopping as he watched it careen up the side of the mountain and vanish into the distance, then he fetched his vibro-blade from the wood with a single yank and tucked it into its sheath on his belt after a quick wipe. When he turned back to Lyra, the mixture of emotions on her face and in her body language was utterly comical. 

“I think I’d like to hear more of your soldier stories,” she murmured, residually tense and irresistibly attracted to him all at once. He grinned, strolling back to her with a shake of the head.

“I don’t know if you could handle them,” he needled, earning a little gasp of indignation from her as he resisted the urge to cringe at his attempts at flirting. 

“Fair enough.” She broke into laughter, closing the distance between them with a sheepish reach for his hand. He took hers happily, and they continued their stroll toward a favorite spot atop the cliffs overlooking the ocean. 

* * * 

Fanart by @matookahitaki

.

“This is harder than it should be,” Hunter grumbled, tensing his legs as he pressed his palms into the ground and arched his head back toward the sky. 

“You’re doing it flawlessly,” Lyra laughed, mimicking the pose next to her. He’d agreed to join her in her yoga practice, which she enjoyed on a level spot of soft dirt beyond her garden, near the sea cliffs. They were each on a small mat, and she’d been leading him through the positions, trying and failing not to focus too much on the way his lithe body flowed effortlessly from one stance to another. 

They folded themselves downward, hands digging into the earth above their heads as their backsides lifted into the air, heels pressing down as they lengthened and breathed deeply. The sun was low in the sky, filling her backyard with creamy golden light, and the faint calls of gulls over the ocean joined the dainty symphony of the tiny birds that flitted from tree to tree around her cottage. Everything about it was peaceful, and despite the burn in muscles that he didn’t even know he’d had, Hunter felt more relaxed than he had in a long time. 

He followed her as she stepped one foot forward between her hands, sinking low and twisting her torso to reach an arm above her, turning her head to fix her gaze on her fingers. A sudden stabbing pinch in his neck prompted a sharp inhale, and he released the pose, settling onto his knees and tilting his head back and forth, rubbing his neck with a grimace. It tightened in protest, shooting pain up his skull and down his back.

“You alright?” she asked, kneeling beside him with a look of concern.

“Cramp,” he muttered, cringing as he continued his attempt to loosen it. 

“Ahh, I’m sorry. That’s the worst,” she sympathized. “Can I help?”

“I don’t think so?” It was more of a question than a rejection. She moved closer, sitting up higher on her knees and reaching a tentative hand to his neck. He dropped his own hand, watching her with a sudden focus despite the nagging pain in his muscle. A warm palm pressed against his skin, and he marveled for a moment at the fact that, for once, she wasn’t cold. Then, she moved her hand in one long, deep stroke from his shoulder up the side of his neck, and he couldn’t suppress the shudder that jittered his spine. She pulled away abruptly, biting her lip self-consciously.

“Sorry–” she began awkwardly, tucking her hair behind her ear. He shifted on his knees, the pain having been dulled by his complete distraction at the effect her touch had on him. 

“No, it… uh… it helped…” he stuttered, trying to ignore her smile at his flustered appearance. 

“I can finish if you’d like,” she offered softly, and he could hear her heart beating loudly in her chest. He nodded, and she returned to his side, a little closer this time, and leaned over him to massage the side of his neck with both hands. He tipped his head away from her, stretching the muscle and opening it up to her, and now it was his turn to suppress a grin at the flush of heat that emanated from her body, accompanied by shallow breaths. She moved in long, steady strokes, one hand after the other, sending waves of absolute bliss through him, and after a few minutes, slowly stilled, dropping her arms to her sides. 

“Thank you,” he murmured, rummy and relaxed as he turned to her. Her cheeks were red, eyes averted, and he felt the warmth deep in his own core as well. 

“Sure,” she said loudly all of a sudden, sitting up straight and clearing her throat. 

They watched each other for an awkward second, then Lyra rose clumsily to her feet, babbling something about needing to start dinner as she walked far too quickly toward her house.

* * *

Lyra walked excitedly ahead of Hunter, picking her way through The Forest with her pack bouncing on her hip. It was early in the morning — a rare time for her to be out from beneath her fluffy comforter — but she had something special planned and apparently thought he was worth it. She followed a tiny trail through the densely wooded area, birds chirping merrily overhead. Hunter walked quietly behind, a small grin on his face being forcibly contained.

“Almost there!” she assured in a singsong voice. The faintest sound of water could be heard up ahead, and as the trees gave way to the bank of the creek, Lyra slowed, searching for something. “Hmm. Hang on…” she muttered, taking a few steps in each direction.

Hunter waited, still smiling.

“Aha!” came the triumphant revelation. “Found it!” She trundled through some bushes and emerged into a tiny clearing. It was tucked high into the cliffs along the edge of the island with an expansive view of the coastline that zig-zagged around them. The water tinkled gently along one side, dripping down stones to the beach below, and the trees came right up to the drop off, providing a lush wall to block the chilly sea breeze. It was warm and quiet, with just enough nature sounds to lull its occupants into tranquility, and it didn’t look like anyone had ever been nearby save for the nimble-footed Kod’yok that roamed in small herds.

She stood in the center of the small clearing, beckoning for Hunter to join. He took his place behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and relishing the closeness as he took a deep breath.

“Give it like two minutes,” Lyra said. “Close your eyes and take it all in. I know you’ll enjoy it even more than me.”

They stood in silence, each allowing the beauty and calm to delight their senses. Hunter loved it. The ocean blended with the hanging flowers from nearby vines to create a light, salty-sweet fragrance, and now it was accompanied by Lyra’s subtle scent that soothed him deeply. The morning sun was not far above the tree line, so the endless waves of the sea were still painted with the glow of the cotton candy sky, yet its golden beams rested on their backs and warmed them through and through. He slowly ran his fingers along her forearms, tracing the curves of muscle and bone and memorizing the little bumps and scars of her life.

The white-tipped crests of the waves were mesmerizing as they rolled slowly toward shore one after another after another. The smooth dance of the sea was a pleasant contrast to the jagged cliffs along the island’s edge, decorated haphazardly with hardy bushes and craggy trees. The ever-shifting colors in the sky were a cherry on top of the majestic vista. And the combination of the crashing waves, nearby bird calls, and Lyra’s quiet breathing all invited him to rest in serenity.

“Wait…” she murmured, digging in her pocket suddenly. “Gotta make sure we get all the senses.” She produced two small candies with a chuckle, offering him one after she’d unwrapped its crinkly paper. “I know, I’m an old lady. Just let it melt in your mouth.”

He acquiesced, noting how she watched his lips as he took the small chocolate, but was soon distracted by just how decadent the treat actually was. It had a rich sweetness that filled his mouth as it slowly softened against his tongue, and Lyra turned back to face the sight before them as though leaving him to enjoy it in peace. He smirked as she closed her own eyes, sharing a private moment with the delicious delight, and as he leaned against her back, arms finding their way around her, he allowed his own eyes to rest, truly impressed at her intentionality to charm his senses as fully as she could.

Her unmistakable pride at having found the spot was unusually strong for her passive-to-a-fault personality, and Hunter was torn between saying something or leaving it be. But then she pushed her luck.

“It’s alright,” she teased, a saucy little glimpse of the spunk that she hid so well. “I’ve had a few years more than you on this lovely island. I’m sure you’ll find some equally amazing, jaw-dropping, awe-inspiring places like this in time.” She’d turned slightly in his arms to face him, regarding him with a smugness that he found irresistible.

“Hm. One can only hope…” he murmured, giving her a squeeze before standing beside her. He leaned his cheek close to hers, heat and intensity between them, and pointed at a nearby tree. It was old and sturdy, twisting toward the sky with endless boughs, and there was one particularly large one that had a cozy seat hollowed out where the branch met the trunk. There was a folded piece of cloth draped over it, though it was so similar to the color and pattern of the tree itself that one would never notice unless it were explicitly revealed.

“What…” Lyra was dumbfounded. “Someone else has been here?! Or is that… what is that?”

“That is the local butcher’s lookout where he tracks the migrating herds and keeps tabs on their populations, behavior, and habits. But it’s also a nice place to relax and enjoy a lot of pleasant elements in one convenient spot.”

“Hunter!” she laughed, shaking her head and smacking his arm before smacking her own forehead. “You already knew about this? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You were so proud of yourself…” he began, grinning uncontrollably.

“Well now I feel like an idiot!” she giggled, only partly joking.

“Well hey,” he interjected. “I’ve never brought candy.” She snorted, staring at him incredulously. “And…” he continued, facing her again and touching her cheek with unfathomable gentleness, “I haven’t enjoyed this particular mix of scents… and sights… and textures…” He traced his fingers along her face, her jaw, her neck, feeling the softness of her skin with its slopes and lines, and a supreme sense of contentment settled over him. “So this is totally new.”

She took a deep inhale, having been breathing so shallowly that it wasn’t enough to sustain her need for oxygen, and opened her mouth to speak, then closed it. He brushed a thumb across her bottom lip, the wave of giddy disbelief and growing desire emanating from them both, then with a lingering gaze into her unguarded brown eyes, he lowered his hand.

* * * 

“So! Breslin! Tell us about your job on Keytoll,” Phee invited warmly, scooping a large spoonful of rice onto her plate before passing the bowl to Tech. “I’ve met some interesting characters there.”

“I’m not surprised,” Breslin chuckled, breaking apart her small bread roll with her fingers before searching for some butter. 

“I got you,” Wrecker said, passing the covered dish to her. 

“Thanks, handsome!” she said with a smile, and Hunter smirked at the tiny blush on Wrecker’s cheeks. “To answer your question,” she continued, addressing Phee now as she swiped a bit of butter across the roll. “I didn’t know what to do when I first got there… I’m assuming you all know the circumstances under which I arrived?” 

A round of nods. 

“Feels nice to have that all out in the open,” Lyra said quietly, suddenly shy at the many pairs of eyes on her and relieved when they returned to her daughter.

“Sweet. So the first order of business was to get some communication equipment. But my chunk of credits was running out pretty quickly. I found a temp job as a nighttime janitor at the local City Hall, which is honestly just a front for all kinds of unsavory characters to make deals,” she chuckled. “I learned quickly to keep my head down. I definitely didn’t see anything suspicious. Nope.” She winked at Echo in response to his knowing smirk. 

“You’ve got more sense than most,” Phee chuckled. 

“I was scared karkless,” she admitted, casting a quick glance toward Omega, then around the table. “Sorry–” she corrected quickly. Echo gasped in feigned shock and horror, and she laughed at his theatrics. “Okay, got it. Anyway, they realized pretty quickly that I was handy to have around. I fixed a bunch of stuff and tried to be as useful as possible. So they took me on full time, still with the night cleaning duties but also for general equipment upkeep. I made some nerd friends. Joined a “radio enthusiasts club”. And just tried to settle in despite having no idea if or when I’d be able to get in touch with Mom.” 

She cast a fond glance at Lyra, who was sitting across from her with Hunter’s chair close beside, and was met with a depth of love that was unmistakable to anyone watching, especially him. The congeniality of family dinners was almost always palpable, and the weekly tradition had become a staple in each of their lives as they came together with gratitude for their safety and serenity. Crosshair’s softened demeanor and occasional snark, Echo’s quick wit and expertise, Wrecker’s enthusiasm and delight with life, Tech’s creativity and thoughtfulness, Phee’s insight and warmth, and Omega’s optimism and kindness all crafted a perfect atmosphere for Hunter to relax into joy and contentment. 

Conversation continued as they helped themselves to the thick slices of meat fanned out across a plate, and Wrecker was unabashedly excited to see the platter of roasted vegetables from Lyra’s garden. 

“I’ve missed this!” he exclaimed as he scooped nearly a quarter of them onto his plate, ignoring Tech’s exasperated protest that he was claiming more than the allotted percentage for each individual in attendance. Hunter cast a side glance at Lyra, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips. 

He’d missed it too.

“How are the jobs, Omega?” Crosshair asked from the end of the table. 

“Great!” she responded with a bright smile. “The nurses at the clinic are so kind and encouraging, and the medical procedures they let me attend are absolutely fascinating!” Phee winked at Tech after nudging his elbow with a warm grin. 

“Have you trained with the surgical droid yet?” Tech asked, re-entering the conversation after a private moment with the beautiful woman beside him. 

“Only once,” Omega nodded. “He’s got a lot of personality. I’m not sure it’s a good idea to have AZI working with him.” She laughed, memories of their recent scuffle surfacing in her mind. “Sometimes they sound like siblings. But I think he’s happy to have a friend. Well, another friend… I mean, I guess everyone is his friend.” 

A chuckle echoed from a few of them, and with the continued clinking of plates and glasses, the rest of dinner flowed by with relaxed conversation and a bit of bickering, as always. The velvet sky spread above them, arching across the balcony patio with twinkling stars competing for attention behind the string lights over the table. As the evening wrapped up, they said their goodbyes and made for their own homes. Breslin was renting a small, one-room cabin behind the local doctor’s house, having opted for her own space but remaining nearby for frequent visits and lunch dates with Lyra. She gave her mom a warm hug before turning toward the path, accompanied by Omega, who had been drawn to her from the start.

Wrecker gave Hunter a knowing clap on the back as he passed him on his way home, nodding toward the sea where the paths split, one leading toward their cabin in the woods, the other leading to Lyra’s cliffside cottage. 

“Don’t be home too late,” he said, under his breath, but they both heard him clear as day. Hunter gave him a little push as he continued on his way, his echoing chuckles dancing on the breeze back toward them as they headed for Lyra’s together. Hunter offered his arm. She took it with a grin. 

They stopped only when they reached her porch, having chatted quietly the entire way. Hunter was continually amazed by their ability to somehow talk about everything and nothing at all, and when she sheepishly opened her arms for a hug, he slipped his own around her shoulders, relishing the way she rested her head against him. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” he murmured against her hair. 

“Always,” she said softly, and his heart swelled in his chest. 

.

.

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[skell3]

Mage's Ball

Just a little blurb I did for @occudo 's fantasy AU thing. My writing isn't like... flowery or anything, but it at least put down the start of a brainworm THIS comic gave me. There's more to it but like. I'm really bad at being able to continue/finish fics (I do better at RP) so this is what you get.

It was the middle of the ball, and Tim had been left on his own. By choice, mind you, but he still wasn’t particularly happy about it. Sir Timothy Stoker, knight to Mage Sasha James, had come along to keep an eye on his charge and perhaps… well. He didn’t entirely know what he was expecting, but it wasn’t this. Sasha focused on… Jonathan Sims and his knight, Martin Blackwood. Focused, and chatting so animated about their latest trials and tribulations in the aftermath of the Prentiss incident. Tim was not pleased, and therefore he was incredibly distracted. 

“A knight without his mage- that’s a rare sight. Did they abandon you?” A deep, smooth voice croons in on the knight from nearby.

“My lady can chat without my help.” Tim turns to see who was addressing him, only to find another Mage. “I don’t see a knight by your side either, Lord-” “Delano.” Gerry removed the sheer fabric that had been covering his head to better view this pouting guardian. 

Standing at attention, Tim reached for the mage’s hand to draw the back of it to his lips in greeting. “Sir Stoker. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” His eyes fell to the fabric at the mage’s waist, only for his eyes to be guided up to the bared skin of his chest. Lord Delano had a considerable amount of tattoos; eyes decorated his skin all the way up to the collar at his throat. 

“Likewise,” Gerry responds, smiling at the display. His eyes traced over the knight for possibly the sixth time this evening, having noticed him earlier in the evening. “I never felt the need to employ a bodyguard for myself- way too much work if you ask me.” Pale gaze lifting, it seems like his interest has yet to bring his eyes back up from his chest, and he sighs in amusement. “Also- my eyes are up here, Sir Stoker.”

“With all due respect, they are also down there, my lord.” Tim couldn’t help but find himself mesmerized by them, among… other things. This was a fancy ball and somehow Lord Delano managed to get away with having so much skin exposed. It was daring, it showed off his nature as a Seer Mage, and it was… well. Distracting. Very distracting. Finally, he manages to tear his eyes away from ink and look back up to the other man with a flush across his cheeks. “I think you’re the only one who got away with going casual,” he jokes with a smile. 

“Casual?” The response comes with laughter, Gerry lifting a hand to cover his smile briefly as he turns to glance around the room. He notices Stoker doing the same, and together they take in all the grandeur of the Winter Mage’s Ball. “That would mean some of those here are a bit over-dressed, wouldn’t you think?” The knight’s own lady was in quite a gown, and he watches with a smile as she laughs and converses with her two current companions. He catches the eye of the shorter mage over there, and enjoys the rather disgruntled look he gets out of it. “Want to get away from here for a little bit?” Tim had been distracted again, both to try and not openly ogle at Lord Delano again, but also because those three looked like they were having quite a good time. Over-dressed? His gaze manages to move away to fluffy dresses and gents looking so prim and proper. Plenty to look at, nothing to see. Hearing the laughter, he looked back at the trio just about when Gerry spoke up again. “E-Excuse me?!” Tim sputters, turning to stare at the taller man. Gerry offers him a smile, and then a hand. “My rented quarters aren’t too far, and it looks like she’s well entertained. There are guards posted everywhere and the room is full of mages. I think she is quite safe, and I’ll admit you have me feeling a little under-dressed.” Tim’s eyes are roaming again, but fortunately it was more than just at his chest. He watches the man sputter again, trying to find words for what he wanted, only to get a- “...give me a second, please. If you would?” Tim has to check in at least once, and that was probably the quickest shuffle he has made to Sasha’s side outside of danger. A quick conversation, with no small amount of glaring from Lord Sims, and Lord Delano gets gestured to. More conversation happens, and Lady James nods her head and offers the other Seer Mage a polite bow before returning to her conversation. Tim returned to Gerry’s side shortly after, offering him a bow of his own. “My services are yours for the evening, My Lord.”

“Well. I’m going to have to get you to say that a few more times while I have you, then,” Gerry muses. He beckons for Stoker to follow, turning to head for the exit doors that would lead them outside. “Come along, then, Sir Stoker.”

[endwersed]

WIP Wednesday

Tagged by the dreams that are @hedwig221b & @dear-massacre 🥰

Another week, another li'l excerpt from my current Sterek FWB AU WIP: you don't see me. Derek and Stiles are besties since college and roommates, and Derek is 'straight'.

-

"Don't try to swallow," Stiles says. "It can be... a lot, your first time. Especially for a straight guy."

Derek frowns. “I told you, I don't mind –“

A quick, high laugh from Stiles' smiling, pink mouth effectively cuts Derek off, and he abruptly yanks the supporting hand out from under his head to clamp firm fingers around Derek's bicep.

“Dude,” he monotones, "just trust me on this.”

Derek allows himself a beat to click his tongue irritably, but concession comes soon enough, in the form of a long, heaving sigh.

“Fine,” he grouses. “Just let me know when you’re close, then.”

"Sure, yeah, fine." Stiles' agreement comes out just a little bit breathless, and he squirms against the sheets as Derek knees his way in between his easily parting legs. "Shit. Okay. This... this is actually happening. Just – take it slow, all right? And be careful with your teeth, for the love of god."

The hot skin of the outside of Derek's thigh brushes, presses up against the soft skin on the inside of Stiles', and Stiles responds with an instant intake of breath, the grip he has on his own dick through his underwear tightening for a moment.

Derek feels like he's blinking through thick, sickly sweet syrup as he tears his gaze away and up to Stiles' face.

"Feel free to smack me around the head if I'm too terrible," he jokes.

Stiles rolls his eyes. The intensity of the gesture is undermined, slightly, by the bright flush that covers the entire expanse of his high cheekbones.

"Obviously I'm not going to smack you, Derek," he says.

Derek huffs. "I just mean, don't suffer on account of my ego, is all."

“I really don’t think I see any suffering on the cards here." Stiles pauses, head tilting to the side as he tucks one finger beneath the waistband of his boxers. "At least, not on my side, anyway."

"We should stop stalling," Derek rationalises. "This is already far too much talking for a decent blowjob."

Stiles scoffs, another finger slipping in to join the first. But still, they simply linger in that one place, making no move to push the item down, tug it away. Still, he just lies there, with the hard line of his dick obscenely visible through the indecently thin layer of fabric.

“Maybe I’m nervous,” he says.

Derek lifts an eyebrow. “You’re nervous?”

“Shut up,” Stiles says, a shaky laugh, a deep breath, and then his boxers are hurriedly pulled down to meet the bunched-up fabric of his sweatpants, his dick springing out to bounce against his taut stomach. “Okay. Fuck. Let’s do this.”

A snort escapes Derek at the severity in Stiles’ voice, the pinch of a frown creasing between his eyebrows. He bites the inside of his cheek to keep another burst of laughter from pushing its way out of him when Stiles’ mouth tugs even further down, almost comically downturned, at this barest hint of amusement.

Silently, Derek lowers himself, dropping his shoulders and his gaze until he can settle properly in between Stiles’ inched apart thighs. He takes in the length of Stiles’ erection, stiff and leaking a little at the tip, and he feels a hot simmer churn in his stomach, a vibrant current running underneath his skin.

Nerves, obviously. Simple, inevitable – nerves.

Enough words have passed between them now; too many words, just like he said before. And it’s without another syllable passing through his lips that he gets himself comfortable, reaches out to curl fingers at the base of Stiles’ dick to hold it firm and ready, and leans forward until he can wrap his mouth around the tip.

-

No pressure tags! @aurevell @crownofstardustandbone @lucky-bishop @renmackree @thotpuppy

[ninapi]

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

- ̥۪͙۪˚┊❛ Better Half ❜┊˚ ̥۪͙۪◌

Premise: Nobara forced Yuuji to stop by a food stand every time they came back from a mission. The girl working there always entranced the youngster, causing his teammates to tease him more than usual. An odd encounter brings her a little too close to Sukuna who ends up just as smitten as his counterpart with the young beauty. Which half will get her heart? Only time will tell.

Word Count: 2381

══✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿══

Old sweet Nobara…

She might be a good friend, sweet, loving teammate, yeah all that and more…but Yuuji had reasons to hate her, as much as he had reasons to love her.

Nobara loved the colorful streets of Tokyo more than anything in her life, she lived for the very little time she had to indulge in the magic of the alleys, though, every time they came out of a particularly tough mission, she would beg her loving teammates to stop by her favorite crepe stand.

“Oh c’mon! Like you don’t like going there as much as I do…More even…”

“I beg to differ…” Megumi plopped on a near by bench hoping that would stop her from walking any further.

“Ok, maybe you don’t. Cuz you’re a grandpa. But Itadori is a different story, isn’t it mate…?” her suggestive smirk made Yuuji uncomfortable to say the least.

“I mean…their crepes are really nice…so fluffy…and…flavorful…” his voice was low, so much more than his usual boisterous one, it was comical.

“Oh yeah, fluffy…definitely…” this made his cheeks turn crimson, his fidgeting getting in Megumi’s nerves.

“Gotta pee or something?”

“NO!”

“He’s just eager to see his lovely crush.”

“So he does like her, huh? I guessed as much to be honest...” heaving a defeated sigh, he got up from the bench being the one leading the team now on their way to the delicious smelling food stand.

“W-where are you going Fushigoro?!” Yuuji trailed after his friends that were currently sharing a mischievous grin like a lost little baby duck.

“Kinda hungry, man…”

“You should try the chicken one, it blew my mind…”

“GUYS! Can you stop for a second?”

“Of course not.”

The sigh that left the pink haired male made them burst into a flush of evil laughter, his sad puppy eyes and frown making him look adorable which just made it all worse for him.

“Aw, baby Itadori needs a hug. Shall we communicate his needs to the cute lady crepe chef?”

“Her name is (Y/N).”

“What? How do you know that Fushigoro? Do you like her too?”

“Too, huh? She has a name tag you moron…”

“Oh….really? I mean…”

“You mean to say you haven’t even glanced at her boobies? Wow, this is worst than I thought, I think he’s in love~” Nobara skipped her way over to the stand, dramatically moving her hands as she was a maiden in distress.

“I hate her…” his puppy eyes turned watery as he shared a look with Megumi.

“Nah…you don’t. Let’s catch up before she really tells her to hug you-“ he hadn’t even finished his sentence when Yuuji was already behind Nobara, a desperate look on his face.

“Ugh, HI!” a high pitch little scream left him, making him even more flustered, your cute giggles making him feel ridiculously happy for some reason.

“Hi~ You want the usual?” He had a usual? He realized he’s never really ordered anything, he just stares at your face from the moment he arrives until he leaves.

“Sure! It’s the best flavor ever!”

Nobara looked up with a raised eyebrow as she adds his order on the screen, “Strawberry cheesecake?”

Is that what he always ate? It was certainly good, girly as hell, but good. “Yeah, I mean is so fluffy, you should try it too, Kugisaki.”

“If you say so, I’ll get one of those then. How about you, Fushigoro? Chicken?” he just nodded, staying silent in the background assessing the situation from afar. He noticed how you’d smile at Itadori a tiny bit brighter than you did to Kugisaki, your pretty eyes sparkled so much that it made him blush, and that, was weird.

Your hands brushed Yuuji’s when you handed him his crepe, then placed the other two in a carrier and gave it over to Nobara. It was very unnecessary, yet you seemed to know how he’s always so hungry and eager, like you knew he wouldn’t wait until he arrived at a place to eat it peacefully, as if he was dying to bite onto it as soon as possible.

And right you were, his first bite was something else… his nose ended up full of wiped cream and that dorky smile of his full of crumbles.

You didn’t have to do anything about it, but you did. You leaned over the counter window and got it off his face with a wet tissue, the adoring smile you had on your face not easily missed by both of his friends.

“Sorry to break the lovey-dovey moment, but Gojo-sensei is waiting for us. We must eat them before he finds out we’ve been eating sweets without him.” she grabbed onto Yuuji’s elbow, dragging him with her like a dog on a leash.

“Ugh…(Y/N)! Thanks! It’s as good as always and I’m so clean now! Feels great! You're the best, your boss should give you a rise or something!”

“Oh for fuck sakes…shut up Itadori…you're embarrassing...”

He was now being dragged away from you by both of his embarrassed friends. His smile though, never leaving his face, just like yours didn’t for the rest of the day.

══✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿══

“You went where??” Gojo was pacing back and forth in the classroom, lack of sugar being pretty evident in his current behavior making them feel even guiltier.

“We just made a little pit stop on the way, gotta eat too, you know?"

“You didn’t just make a ‘pit stop’…you went to my favorite crepe stand…and didn’t bring me anything….you’re such a soulless bunch of brats…it’s unbelievable…I’m so good with you all and you just…” his sulking increased even further, making Nobara giggle.

“You’re such a drama queen, sensei…”

“King, you mean. King of the world~”

“Ugh, I’m out of here…”

“So what’s wrong with Itadori?” stealing the last bit of his defenseless student’s crepe, Gojo sat on his chair, feet resting on his teacher desk.

“He’s in love…with an older woman…”

“She’s not an older woman!” the little snarl he gave Nobara was one that would rival a feisty tiny chihuahua, but it gave Gojo a pretty good idea of how serious this whole thing was.

“So, who’s this older woman?”

“The crepe stand girl.”

“Oh, ok Itadori’s right, she’s not an older woman…maybe a couple of years older than you at most. She’s a part-timer I believe.” the look in Yuuji’s eyes changed immediately, turning into a soft dreamy one.

“Though, you might want to keep yourself at bay, Itadori. Must I remind you the king of curses lives within you? Just thinking of sweet little (Y/N) being in danger makes me feel sick…” his words were harsh and made Yuuji recoil, he knows this, all too well, but there was no need to worry as much, is not like he was planning on confessing or something.

Without giving as much as a reply to his superior, Yuuji just left the classroom and hid himself in his own room for the rest of the day.

It was so frustrating to him how he couldn’t even have a crush, how much this curse has affected his life and how much he sometimes wished he would get to be a normal teenager once more.

To make things worse, Sukuna has been listening all this time…

Falling in love made Yuuji weak, his defenses were slowly disappearing and his mind was just somewhere else, the perfect timing to go for a little ride.

══✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿══

Another mission came along the next day, it was an easy reckoning one, over after an hour or so, there was no excuse to go for crepes and for that Yuuji was grateful.

However, Sukuna himself had other plans.

Yuuji’s depressed aura as they walked past the street you worked at was the final push necessary for him to take full control of his host’s body.

“Itadori, how about we get some ice crea- 

Itadori?

Fushigoro…Itadori’s gone-“ looking around desperately there was no sign at all of their teammate.

“What? What do you mean gone?” turning around just as desperate, all he could see was a dust cloud, proof he had been there not long ago, but not just of that, but also of the fact that he had left at an incredible speed.

The amount of cursed energy coming from down the road overwhelmed the young sorcerer, his face paling instantly. “Kugisaki….Sukuna��he’s…he’s here…”

“Tch, of course, he loves coming out when Gojo-sensei isn’t here…What do we do now?”

Megumi’s face was worrying her, he’s not someone to show fear easily, it also meant he had no clue of what to do next and she wasn’t great at this sort of impromptu life saving plans.

“What’s wrong, Fushigoro? Is he going too far this time?”

He just nodded, swallowing his anxiety down, “The crepe stand…”

Now that was playing dirty…he would for sure harm you if that meant getting full control of Itadori’s body, the perfect token for blackmail.

With a frown and unshared words, both ran towards the direction emanating the ridiculous amounts of cursed energy.

Though, what they found at the scene was beyond their expectations.

You were leaning on the window, like you usually do to get closer to Yuuji, like if nothing was out of the ordinary, like he didn’t have a completely different appearance and voice, making Megumi frown with distaste.

While he was fully concentrated on your safety, Nobara had her eyes on Sukuna. Saying his demeanor was odd, would be an understatement.

His smirk was wide, his eyes mischievous, his elbows were leaning on the same windowsill as you were, his face inches from yours. “My lovely angel, would you be willing to go to the depths of hell with me? I mean, hypothetically of course…” his words made you giggle and blush.

In all honesty, you did notice the change, though you didn’t question it much, is not like you had knowledge of curses, therefore the idea of your crush being possessed by an evil curse never crossed your mind.

“Is hell a nice place?”

“It isn’t. But I would make it comfortable for you if you do agree to come with me…”

Megumi’s blood ran cold and without thinking much he grabbed Sukuna by his elbow pulling him away from you, “Itadori…you’re scaring (Y/N)…”

Truth is, he wasn’t though. 

You had a delighted face while talking to him and the flirting has been mutual the entire time.

While Yuuji’s real and sweet persona made your heart skip a beat with his cute shyness, Sukuna’s assertive and even commanding self made your knees weak. 

You didn’t really understand his change in demeanor and you even considered him having double personality, but the truth was simple, you liked both sides equally, and didn’t mind one bit if he indeed had it, he at least seemed to remember you in both states.

But you went along with Megumi’s act, as he looked quite disturbed and worried, he did know him better than you after all.

Megumi’s words seemed to stir something inside Itadori, his eyes switching from a harsh scowl to a soft worrying misty look. He was struggling to gain control back since he really didn’t want to harm the woman he loved and he knew very well what Sukuna was capable of.

“What are you talking about, brat? You like this side of me much better, don’t you gorgeous?” his playful wink made you swoon, causing Itadori’s stomach to sink just a bit.

“I like every side of you. Though, why the face painting? Are you guys performing art students?”

“Something like that…now If you excuse us, we won’t be getting any crepes today, we need to take him home, he needs a bit of…ugh…rest.”

“Think about it babe, alright? If you so wish to, I’ll make you my queen.” 

After his last statement, Yuuji finally managed to wake up and gather his bearings, he felt like crap and had no energy left within his body. With an arm around each of his friends, he was able to get back to the academy in one piece, though, his heart had taken a harsh blow. 

You liked Sukuna…but you also liked him?

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

Masterlist

[kkami-writes]

Black Blood – chapter ten. cw. implied sex. wc. 1.5k reference. skz-talker ep. 34

It was the day of the AAA’s and anyone could clearly see just how nervous you were. Even though it was just going to be a recording due to covid, it was still your first big event with the boys and you want it to go as smoothly as possible. Somehow you were more nervous than they were and they were the ones performing.

One by one you had made sure they were getting ready, constantly glancing at the clock and making sure you were still on schedule and not running behind. You had gone to check on Felix, but the boy was not in his room and you decide to find him later. The biggest probably would be Hyunjin if the boy wasn’t awake yet. It’d take you at least ten minutes to drag the boy out of bed. You freeze in front of his room though and you can immediately recognize the familiar energy that was pulsing inside the room. You curse under your breath, sighing deeply. Really? Did they have to decide to do this today?? Of all days?? An hour before they had to leave?? Oh you were gonna strangle them.

They don’t leave you much choice as you open the door and enter the room.

“Hey, sorry to interrupt but in case you’ve forgotten you have the AAA’s today,”

The two boys on the bed freeze, eyes wide as they stare at you. Hyunjin is currently shirtless with a flustered Felix underneath him, legs wrapped around the taller boy’s body. It would almost be comical how shocked they were but to be honest you felt a little bad. You had promised to yourself that you would never…go near them when they were having moments like these but this time it could not be helped.

They scramble to disconnect themselves from each others bodies, Hyunjin desperately looking for his discarded shirt and Felix has his head in his hands, ears a bright red.

“I’m so sorry but we leave in an hour. So you can either hurry up or take a cold shower but we gotta go. I’ll come back in an hour ok?” You make to leave the two alone but surprisingly Hyunjin holds you back.

“Wait what? That’s it? You’re not gonna like…ask? Or interrogate us?” You raise an eyebrow at him, tilting your head.

“Huh? Do you want me to? I already know all of you guys are fucking,”

“WHAT?” They both scream at your confession and Felix flushes even more if it was possible. You laugh.

“Ok, first of all. You guys are NOT subtle or slick at all. The amount of times I’ve walked in on some of you making out is hilarious. Second of all, did you forget I’m half-succubus? I can quite literally feel the energy when you guys are…you know,”

Both boys blink at you, jaws practically on the floor.

“Plus even if I had never noticed or wasn’t a succubus, you do realize that the first thing the company did when I got the job was sign a NDA that explained all of you are in a polyamorous relationship and that I shouldn’t be concerned if I see anything. That it is strictly a company secret,”

Felix lets out a small groan, going back to trying to hide himself into the palm of his hands.

“…You don’t…think it’s weird?” Hyunjin asks, his voice on the quiet side, uncharacteristic for the boisterous boy.

“Weird? Hyunjin, I’m a succubus for devil’s sake. People summon me to have mind-blowing sex. I have to feed on semen of all things. And you’re asking me if I think it’s weird that eight people are in a relationship? You’re so cute,” This time Hyunjin is the one blushing. “If you want my honest opinion? I love it. I’ve been here a month and if there’s one thing I know, it’s that all of you have such a special bond. You guys have something so beautiful, so rare and you guys shouldn’t be ashamed of it. I mean of course, I understand why you have to hide it but that’s not the point. I think it’s so wonderful that you guys have so much love in your heart and my point is, is that you guys should cherish what you have. Honestly? I’m kinda jealous. I could barely get one boyfriend let alone eight when I was alive” You joke half-heartedly but they cam both tell you’re being more honest than you’ve ever been with them. “Anyway yeah, that’s what I think so please, you guys don’t have to skirt around me anymore. I know a lot more then you think. I don’t mind if you guys are all lovey-dovey around me ok? Okay good. ONE HOUR. We gotta go and if you’re not ready I will drag you out of this apartment”

Felix is looking up at you with those pretty eyes, a sparkle of what looks like hope shines in them. You don’t have the time to even begin to unpack what his gaze could possibly mean as you exit the room. You never see the look Hyunjin and Felix give each other.

Somehow you manage to get everyone to the venue in one piece. You think you deserve a medal for that alone. For now though, you get to relax while the boys get their makeup done. Jeongin is the first one done, sitting in the little kitchen area and stuffing his face with food. His hair is bright blue now, having gotten dyed just a few days ago. He looks good, you think to yourself, especially with the pretty red eyeshadow dusted across his eyes. You come over to poke his cheeks that are filled with food and he playfully swats at you, causing you to let out a small laugh.

You lean down a little, resulting in a confused look from the boy but you simple open your mouth, blinking and waiting for him. Jeongin stares at you for a minute before finally realizing what you want, placing some tteobokki into your mouth. You hum appreciatively, enjoying the sticky spicy rice cake.

“WHAT!!! This is blatant favoritism!!!” Changbin whines, pointing towards Jeongin. He had just tried to get the boy to share but he had pulled the food away from the other. Jeongin simply shrugs.

“Noona’s pretty,” and then he goes back to stuffing his face happily as Changbin stares at the boy with his mouth open. Of course Jeongin eventually let’s the other eat some of his food, but not before Changbin had thoroughly pouted.

Jisung walks into the room once he’s all dressed and you ‘oooh’ at the golden glitter in his hair. Your hand comes to run through his hair, an action Jisung throughly enjoys as he almost pushes against your hand more. But as soon as your hand leaves his hair he suddenly remembers why he had come over. Before you know it, Jisung is pulling you towards a smaller room with Minho.

“Um..where are you taking me? Are you gonna murder me?” Jisung snorts.

“No, no. Can you film us for SKZ-Talker? The other staff are busy,” He asks, pushing a small camera into your hands. It’s very hard to say no to the boy so you follow them into the room. There’s a keyboard pushed up the the wall and Jisung takes a seat. As soon as you start recording, you point the camera to Minho.

“Sorry you can’t be in here without permission. It’s authorized personnel only,” Stays will assume he’s talking to the camera but he’s actually teasing you, a grin on his face before taking a sip of coffee. You playfully glare at the boy from beyond the camera.

Jisung is pushing some buttons on the keyboard and then it’s playing a rapid song, his fingers pretending to glide over the keys as if he was the one playing. You’re trying to hold back your laughter at the sight, biting at your lower tier. He plays it up even more as he pretends to have a conversation on the phone, now ‘playing’ the keyboard with one hand.

After he’s done, Minho has already left the room, presumably to go bother someone else. Jisung starts to try playing an actual song, focused heavily on trying to remember the correct keys. He can only play the first few notes but the tune is strangely familiar to you. The boy continues to try to play as you wrack your brain of where you know this song. And then it hits you.

“OH. This is from Howl’s moving castle right?” You exclaim, happy that you had finally remembered.

“Yeah!! You’ve seen it?” You nod your head eagerly.

“Yeah, I love that movie. All ghibli movies really. I’m a little upset that I didn’t realize it sooner. I guess it has been awhile since I’ve seen it,”

“It’s my favorite movie of all time!! I’ve seen it like 8 times,” He chuckles. He would never get tired of talking about the movie.

“Wanna make it 9?” His head shoots up to look at you. Jisung’s smile gets brighter, small sparkles in his eyes.

“Hell yeah,” Devils advocate taglist (50/50) ⛤ send an ask or sign up here ⛤ @hannieslove @alnex05 @liknws @hyunelixbun @mixtape-racha @inlovewithallmusic @noellllslut @143lix @lolli4me @minhoie @soobery @sunnibearr @adorawritesalot @chlodavids @tasteskzsworld  @chowmein69 @suebinn @yoonrimin @hyunestrella @elizalabs3 @chaotic-world-of-the-j @realrintaro @surefornext @minhwa @0325tiny  @tfshouldidohere @hanjingin  @slay-and-gay @princelingperfect  @strawberryepie @yeetmehome @min-doesnt-know @shakalakaboomboo @skz-streamer @lovestayforev @the-simpy-simp @beautifulcolorgarden @foliea @studygirlmaxx @kpopsstuffs @highlydestiny @lenilla15 @@chocolate-scoups @mits-vi @lovemyself-persona @rensimps @raehawthorne @miss-rose-dixon @producedbyy3racha @loverlixie @hibs8

[cevans-is-classic]

18+ only, please. Language, sexual themes, beefy Bucky

Masterlist

Sebastian Stan

@sergeantbarnessdoll (sorry it's short, dear, but I hope you enjoy it!)

He texted hours ago hoping you’d be home when he got in. All he could think about was curling up on your couch, cuddling down with some movies and some snacks before taking a very extended nap. Maybe some other fun stuff, too. 

Nap first though, he needed some sleep, possibly food before that happened. 

He smiles when your car comes into view, his driver dropping him off beside it. Every step closer makes his stomach warm with being home, being with you. 

“Hey baby,” He calls out when he swings the door open, “I’m putting my stuff in the bedroom real quick.” The TV is on, the mumble of voices growing faint as he drops his suitcase off. He hears you laugh, a sharp bark, and he grins before slipping into a pair of sweats and making his way toward the living room. 

He hears the music first and pauses in the doorway — it takes a moment to recognize what you’re watching. When the scene shifts and he sees RDJ he laughs — startling you. 

“Dude,” You look back at him, “Oh, Hello.” 

Seb wiggles his fingers. “Hello to you as well.” 

You flush, fidgeting, “Welcome home.” 

He moves through the living room, sitting on the couch behind you. You shimmy until you’re between his legs and he can drop a kiss on your head, “Mind if I ask why you’re watching Civil War?” 

“Yara and I played a drinking game last night for how many times Steve and Tony say each other’s names. We started with Avengers Assemble but made our way to the movies. I got kind of hooked again and had to keep watching them.” Your eyes never stray from the movie, even as your hand reaches back to grab his.

“Right here.” You point at the screen, “They forgot to put your arm on, or CGI it, whatever, but you can see your real arm and lemme tell you -” You lean forward, “Beefy Bucky is the best.” 

“Beefy Bucky?” He squeezes your hand. 

“Yes.” 

Sebastian watches the screen, eyes following Iron Man as he fights against the Winter Soldier. He remembers the choreography of this scene, how many takes it took, and when he’d switched out with his stunt double. 

He follows Chris chasing after him and watches Bucky try to fly the helicopter away.

“Yeah, I got beefy for this movie,” He pauses. “I felt like I had to size up to the others, which thinking about it now, makes no sense. The only one who I was up against, in my mind, was Chris.” 

“Cap is an asshole.” He knows you have a little frown. “Poor Bucky, though.” 

He laughs, “Yeah poor Bucky.” Both of you keep watching the movie playing on and he has to admit it’s been a while since he’s seen it. Everyone did an amazing job and watching Chadwick- it squeezes his heart. 

“Oh! Oh!” You jump forward, “You missed it, ugh. The fucking motorcycle scene. Baby, babe, he literally throws someone off the bike, but my god it’s gorgeous. Bucky is gorgeous.” 

“First off,” He pokes your shoulder, “That’s my stunt double you’re calling gorgeous. Second, you know I play Bucky, right? Me? The man who is currently sitting behind you?” 

“Yes,” You look back at him, “and you’re hot while doing it.” 

He grins at you, raising a brow when you turn around to face him, “You know, when I first saw this movie I was super drunk and told my partner at the time I was going to suck your soul through your dick.” 

Seb jerks a moment, his stomach tightening. “Yeah?”

“Never fucking thought I’d get the chance though, one in a million shot, right?” He didn’t notice you pausing the movie until the music stopped. 

Your hands trail up his legs as you rise to your feet. “You said you read some comics, right?” 

He grabs your hips, sliding his hands up your back as you settle in his lap, “Some. Why?”  

Your fingers trace the collar of his shirt. “You’re too tall.” 

Seb blinks, “What?” 

“Bucky is only five foot nine in the comics, I think? I’ll have to check.” Seb shakes his head, your fingers touching the edge of his jaw. “I think you make a great Bucky, though. Really brings him to life.” 

He squeezes your waist, digging his fingers in until you squirm in his lap. “You’re welcome.” 

That earns him a wicked smile, your tongue coming out to wet your lips. He follows the path, thinking about the feels of your lips against his and how warm your mouth would be around him. He leans forward to kiss your chin, then your cheek, over to your lips.  

You pause for a breath, “On a scale of one to ten how cool are you with me shouting Bucky while you fuck me?” 

Seb hums, brushing his lips over yours. “Let’s find out.”

[nitewrighter]

Scoops! (Part 1)

Okay, so this fic is of course mainly taking place in the My Adventures With Superman continuity of Superman, but I also wanted to incorporate some aspects of comics Lois in there as well. It also takes a lot of inspiration from Gene Luen Yang's Batman/Superman: The Archive of Worlds, and I wanted to adapt elements of that comic to My Adventures with Superman. So it's a mish-mash! This is my first time writing for Superman in anything other than a shitpost, so I hope you enjoy!

Read it on AO3 here!

-----

“Eyes up, Smallville,” Lois was bobbing a little where she stood. She was in yoga tights and a loose cutoff tee that was apparently a souvenir from a monster truck rally called ‘MeTRUCKolis.’ Her wrapped fists were squared up in front of her. Clark loomed before her, his own legs slightly bent, wearing a beat-up white t-shirt and sweats.

Clark adjusted his glasses and took a steadying breath. “Okay,” he said, bringing his arms up.

“Ready?” she asked. He liked that little flash of fierceness in her eyes.

“Mm-hm.”

Bap. Bap. Bap. She had been talking him through proper blocking, and, from what they could observe, Kryptonian nerve endings seemed to follow a lot of the same logic as human ones, and she was always quick to correct his form or stance. Obviously she didn’t have the same hand-to-hand prowess as that skull-helmeted orange and black guy with the swords, but it was still a good opportunity to actually observe the patterns of a proper fighting style rather than be blindsided by a flurry of blows.

Bap.

Watching Lois, blocking her strikes, he could see there was clear logic to her movements: an awareness of space and a conservation of energy that seemed so far beyond him simply because he still had barely a grasp on what he was able to do to begin with. Rolling with the force of the punches was definitely instinctive for him at this point, but he was still trying to parse out how exactly his own invulnerability worked. Frankly, he didn’t really like the current approach of, “Oh, I guess that doesn’t kill me,” but it wasn’t like he was actively trying to lower whatever unconscious mental blocks he had on what probably could be hurting him a lot more if he let it. He could feel the roughness of Lois’s fist wrappings, the warmth of her skin through them, could feel his own flesh yielding, if only slightly, at the impact. He knew she actually packed a significant punch compared to the average person, but she was holding back in her own way. There was the instructive element to it, but caution, as well. After all, how hard would you want to punch someone who not only was your boyfriend, but whom you had also seen make a massive impact crater on concrete?

Bap. Bap.

Lois was a ruddy, flushed mess, but in Clark-vision she was a dewy and glowing warrior goddess, hair sleeked back with her own sweat. They had been at this for the better part of an hour—their training session interrupted only twice by Clark having to rescue several construction workers downtown when an I-Beam’s crane cables snapped loose, and later to fly a little girl and her grandfather to a hospital when the grandfather had a stroke. He had been trying to get better about letting certain things resolve themselves—Metropolis had firefighters, crisis hotlines, and paramedics, after all—but he had also gotten practiced enough with his super-hearing that he had a much stronger grasp on where the location of certain cries for help were coming from—say, if that stroke victim was also in an affordable housing unit.

Bap. Lois’s fist made contact with his left pec.

“Clark, shoulders,” she said for what was definitely more than the tenth time, “And you’re not even trying to evade.”

Clark wasn’t sure how practical evasion was when he was, in fact, significantly wider than her. Her fists were pretty centered on him as a result. He was great at evading while in flight, maybe because momentum was such a strong factor that impact could easily wrest from his control and he didn’t want to make himself into a missile by getting blasted out of the air, but here, in the laundry room basement of Lois’s apartment building, on a mat graciously lent to them by Steve Lombard, in close quarters with a much smaller (but much fiercer) opponent, there wasn’t a lot of space to evade, nor really a strong physical need to. Lois was going in for a hard left hook now.

“I don’t know if this is really working,” said Clark, finally dipping to one side with superhuman speed, sending Lois stumbling forward, but she righted her own momentum and easily pivoted into a back kick.

Careful, Clark instinctively caught her foot before it met his jaw, letting his own hand briefly follow the arc of the kick so she wouldn’t hurt herself with the sudden stop. He stood there, awkwardly holding her by the brightly-colored trainer.

“Okay, now counter,” said Lois.

“Counter?”

“You have my foot. I’m off-balance and vulnerable. Flip me, or something.”

“Lois, I’m not going to flip you.”

“We have a mat!”

“Look,” Clark let her foot go, “I know you mean well with this, but I never really thought of my powers in terms of fighting. I don’t like thinking of my powers in terms of fighting.”

“Well, don’t think about it as fighting, then,” Lois regained her stance and put her hands on her hips, “Think of it as… stopping a fight before it becomes a fight. We both saw that footage, the more you get hit…”

“The more I get hit,” Clark conceded.

“Right, you get discombobulated, and then overwhelmed. And it’s clear even if you can take those hits, that actually taking those hits uses up energy for you. There’s just a lot of surface area like this,” said Lois, splaying her fingers across Clark’s chest.

Clark gulped at the physical contact and Lois caught herself, a drop of sweat hanging on one lick of hair at her temple, and cleared her throat, putting her hands on Clark’s shoulders and guiding them so that he was standing at more of an angle. “You have to give your opponent less of a space to hit. You just keep coming at people fully sheeted forward, it’s no wonder you’re getting shot or laser-blasted in the back all the time.”

“I’d just rather the laser blasts hit me than…”

“Than the other guys shooting at you?”

Clark’s brow went between a furrow and a crinkle and he glanced off. “I mean, they’re less bulletproof.”

“Clark…” Lois started and then a sigh escaped her. It was one of her ‘I worry about you’ sighs but this one was clearly combined with the actual physical exhaustion of punching him for at least 45 minutes. “I’m gonna get some water.”

“Right…” Clark itched at the back of his neck. “How do you know Krav Maga, anyway?”

Lois gave him a kind of sad sidelong glance before taking a long gulp from her steel water bottle and Clark put 2 and 2 together.

“Oh….” he said quietly.

“One of the closest things we got to quality time, me and my dad,” she shrugged, wiping her mouth. A pause passed between the two of them, a silent, mutual acknowledgement that they didn’t have to re-open that can of worms right now. “Honestly I’m out of practice with Krav Maga specifically, though,” Lois added, “These days I just kick box down at Irons Gym twice a week.”

“I’d like to see that,” the words came out of Clark unthinkingly.

A catlike little smile spread on Lois’s lips.

“I uh—I could probably learn a lot more about proper stance and counters and, um, surface area by watching you in action,” Clark added. Were his glasses steaming up?

“Invitation’s open, Smallville,” she said, setting her water bottle down on the washing machine.  She rolled her shoulders. “Okay,” she said, clapping her wrapped palms together, “Obviously this wasn’t as productive as I would have liked, but we can finish off by showing you my ultimate move.”

“Ultimate move?” Clark blinked a little helplessly.

“Did you know you like, almost never use your legs in a fight?” Lois was hopping in place a little, bouncing her weight between her feet, loosening herself up.

“Again, I don’t really think of my powers in terms of—”

“Think fast!” Lois rushed him, launched herself into the air, twisted in mid-air, and caught him around the neck in what would have been a brilliant scissor-leg takedown if… it actually took him down. Instead, he just kind of ended up rolling back to a near-limbo position to account for her momentum, then brought himself back upright. To her credit, she did keep furiously twisting and squeezing and trying to use her own center of gravity against him the entire time he was doing this, and Clark really wasn’t sure if it was the flight or the super-strength doing most of the work in making her ultimate move… not work… but once he was standing up straight again, she slackened with a frustrated groan, leaving her basically dangling off of him by one leg yoked over his neck.

“…I see what you were going for, there,” said Clark after a beat.

“It would have worked,” Lois’s voice was half a grunt from her semi-upside-down angle, “If you weren’t… y’know.”

Clark thought, Lois, you can choke me with your legs any day of the week, before blurting out, “No, I’m sure! It’s a great move!” and then quickly scooping an arm under her, “Uh—here, let me—”

Getting Lois back to an upright standing position from her current entanglement was a bit like wrestling a large fish out of water, but he managed to set her down with her looking only somewhat sulky.

“It really was a great move,” Clark tried to reassure her.

“It’s not that,” said Lois, readjusting her sports bra, (which made Clark quickly glance off, face burning), “I just… wish we had a safe environment for you to actually work on this stuff! Actually get a grasp on what you can do and how… there’s still so much we don’t understand.”

“I know,” said Clark, not wanting to say If I wasn’t what I was, we wouldn’t be spending one of our few days off like this. Even when I’m not Superman-ing everywhere, this is still eating up both our lives.

There was a familiar fanfare message chime and Clark, desperate to break that chain of thought, quickly stepped over to his duffel bag and grabbed his phone, reading the text on the screen. “Oh hey, Jimmy’s finally done with his thing.”

“His ‘thing?’”

“He wouldn’t tell me what it was,” said Clark, putting the phone back in the bag, “But he wants us both to come over and check it out.”

“Well, obviously we can’t go over there all sweaty, Smallville,” said Lois, grinning, “Looks like you’ll have to use my—-”

Clark zipped upstairs in a blur and after about 15 seconds zipped right back down, super-scrubbed clean, in a completely different outfit to account for the cold weather, and hair still slightly damp.

“…Shower,” Lois finished flatly.

“There’s still plenty of hot water left,” said Clark.

“Cool, thanks,” said Lois, not even remotely trying to hide her disappointment.

——

A shower, a change of clothes for Lois, and short tram ride later, they were at Jimmy and Clark’s apartment building.

“So, when’s Jimmy going to use his Flamebird bucks to get a penthouse?” asked Lois, as they both got in the elevator.

“You know he hasn’t really talked about the money that much,” Clark shrugged, “I dunno if he’s still trying to figure out what to do with it, or if he’s just letting the fact settle in, or what. Then five days ago he starts working on this thing and he’s just been kind of hyper-focused and really secretive about it since then.”

“Secretive, huh?” Lois brought a hand to her chin thoughtfully as the elevator dinged open, “Think he’s being mind-controlled or something?”

“Oh no, definitely not,” said Clark as they walked down the hall, “He gets exactly like this when he’s editing one of his longer video essays. I remember this one time back in college when—” Clark suddenly paused and tilted his head, squinting slightly, as he often did when his super-hearing was picking up something unusual.

“Clark?” Lois looked up at him.

“Some kind of… fizzing sound…at the docks…” Clark murmured. He stood stock-still in that hallway for about thirty seconds before straightening his head again and shrugging, continuing down the hall. “Well, it’s gone now.”

“Look at you, not flying off in a panic every time you don’t know exactly what something is,” said Lois, proudly.

“Baby steps,” said Clark, smiling.

The door to Jimmy and Clark’s apartment swung open before either of them could knock.

“Hey Ji—” Lois started.

“You’re here,” said Jimmy, breathlessly, “Come in, come on! Come in!”

Both Clark and Lois were hustled into the apartment, which was noticeably messier than usual with multiple boxes and foam packaging and those weird plastic air bags which never pop as satisfactorily as bubble wrap.

“Online shopping…?” asked Lois and Clark shrugged.

“Nothing so simple!” said Jimmy, clearly over-caffeinated and already across the apartment, forcing Lois and Clark to follow him, “I’ve finally been able to realize my vision!”

There was a mania in Jimmy’s voice that made Clark and Lois exchange glances and wonder if the whole experience with Monsieur Mallah and the Brain had rubbed off on him more than anticipated.

“What vision?” asked Clark, but they had already reached his and Jimmy’s room and Jimmy was bent over his desk.

“Lady and Gentleman,” he said deeply and dramatically, slowly pivoting around, “I give you, the one, the only,” he was holding something a little bigger than a shot put ball, covered with a dish towel, “the state-of-the-art, the one-of-a-kind, next generation in Flamebird content creation,” he whipped the dish towel away to reveal a silvery dome embraced by an incomplete disk, “Scoops!”

Clark and Lois stared at the object in Jimmy’s hand blankly. It seemingly stared back with its indifferent camera lens at the front, flanked by two triangular metal plates.

“S-Scoops…” Jimmy said, as if they should both know what he was talking about.

Clark and Lois looked up from the object to Jimmy, still clueless.

“It’s a news drone,” said Jimmy.

“Ohhhh,” Clark and Lois said at the same time.

“So it’s like… a new camera?” said Lois.

“Camera? Camera?!” Jimmy held Scoops close, aghast, “Scoops is voice-commanded with a learning AI, has a whopping six terabytes of still image, text-by-dictation, or video memory, is VPN secured and encrypted with its own personal cloud, equipped with the latest in hover-mag suspension systems, is synced with an app on my phone, and tops out at 45 miles per hour.”

“Do we also have to call it ‘Scoops’—” Clark started.

“Yes, yes, you do,” said Jimmy.

“Wait—” Lois glanced back at the boxes, “Jimmy, you put this together yourself?”

“Well, I saw the hover-mag drone frame at the AmerTek pavilion two years ago at the Metropolis Tech Trade Conference, and the processing is mostly AmazoTech AI hardware that wasn’t approved for mass-market release yet but it turns out with the company collapsing, there were a handful of people willing to look the other way and dig through lab storage for me. The lens components and digital recording are a combination of my own favorite camera companies and a handful of bits I had to 3D print myself. And I had to teach myself to solder,” Clark glanced at his hands, noting several bandages on Jimmy’s fingers and a a moleskin blister pad at his left hand’s heel. “So, I mean the components were all there (except the 3D printed ones), I just put them together.”

“But, why wouldn’t the AI tech be approved for mass market release yet?” said Clark.

“Knowing Ivo, probably branding stuff—glossy AmazoTech user interface kind of things, probably,” Jimmy was turning Scoops over in his hands, buffing away at any smudges on the chassis with his dishtowel, “But it responded just fine to my programming.”

“Can I ask how much did this cost you?” asked Lois

“Money is no object when it comes to solving mysteries and changing the face of news as we know it,” said Jimmy, smiling, which both Lois and Clark interpreted to be ‘A lot.’

“Isn’t AmerTek a weapons company—?” Clark started, adjusting his glasses.

“It’s not all weapons,” Jimmy shrugged, “Plus I figured Scoops needed a pretty hardy chassis with all the crazy stuff we get into.”

Clark and Lois still looked more concerned than convinced.

“All right, fine, I’ll give you a demo,” said Jimmy, clearing his throat, “Scoops, activate.”

The lens at the front of Scoops glowed to life and the two triangular plates flanking the lens hovered off of the drone’s spherical dome. Jimmy gently released the drone and it hovered into the air between the three of them, prompting “oohs” from both Lois and Clark.

“Oh, and Lois, can you stand right there?” said Jimmy, positioning Lois at a slightly more open area of the room.

“Me?”

“Yeah, when you hear the cue, just start acting like you’re doing a news report.”

“Oh! Um, okay,” said Lois.

Clark just kept a wary gaze fixed on the little drone now hovering over their heads. Scoops didn’t seem particularly threatening, but Clark definitely had some concerns about something made with both AmerTek and AmazoTech hardware.

“Great start, Scoops, now begin live feed on… Lois Lane,” said Jimmy, taking out his phone.

Scoops seemed to process this command for a second, then shot out the window in a tinkling explosion of glass.

There was a beat of silence. The three of them looked out the jagged hole in the window, watching as the little drone rapidly shrank into the distance through downtown Metropolis, towards the industrial district.

“It was not supposed to do that,” Jimmy said very quietly. He watched the drone zooming off into the distance for several seconds before he realized Clark and Lois were still watching him. He caught himself. “Small hiccup! Not a problem! I’ll simply recall Scoops using my phone.” He demonstratively hit a button on his phone screen, put one hand on his hip, and waited. A long, silent minute passed.

Clark was squinting out the window. “I.. um.. Jimmy, I don’t think it’s coming back.”

This was when Jimmy’s face finally dropped. “Oh come on!” He was tapping at his phone furiously, “It was doing great in the test runs!”

“Do you know where it’s going—?” Lois started.

“I’ve got both its camera feed and a GPS locator for it on my phone,” said Jimmy, “But Clark, can you—?”

“On it,” said Clark, before zipping out of the room in a blur, leaving a flutter of loose papers in his wake. A few heartbeats later and a blue-clad, red-caped figure was soaring after Scoops. Jimmy’s phone pinged. “GPS feed, let’s go!” He said, hooking his arm in Lois’s and sprinting off out of the apartment.

——-

In theory, Clark knew with enough speed he could easily overtake the drone, snatch it out of its course, and yank it back to his and Jimmy’s place, but it turned out the drone had a significant lead on him because he first got sidetracked first swooping a bike messenger out of the way of a taxi that had run a red light, then giving directions to those tourists, then taking that little old lady’s big box of dead batteries to the e-waste recycling center—okay, in retrospect she could have found a nice neighborhood boy for that last task but come on, he was right there, what was he going to do? Say no? But okay, yes, that did turn into taking the whole apartment building’s dead batteries and Lois would say, ‘Clark look at yourself, you are literally taking people’s garbage, we’ve talked about prioritizing,’ but he was already on the way and proper disposal of batteries was important too, wasn’t it? It reduced fire risk and kept toxins from leeching into the soil, so he was basically preventing future crises in Metropolis. Plus, it wasn’t like Scoops was actually in any danger, it was just… on the run, apparently. Gone rogue. The guilt did hit Clark pretty hard once he got back on task. Poor Jimmy seemed so excited about Scoops, and had obviously been working really hard on it—for all his feelings about AmazoTech, Clark wished he could have been more supportive in the moment. At least the drone’s distinctive hover-mag whir made it pretty easy for him to quickly relocate it, but something was irking at the back of his mind as soon as he got a visual bead on it once again.

The fizzing sound from earlier, he thought, watching the drone, It’s going toward where the fizzing sound was.

The drone suddenly dropped into a sharp descent and Clark shifted his position in the air to drop after it. The Metropolis docks. Scoops was now hovering around, seemingly searching among the massive shipping containers. Clark floated after the drone, feeling a bit of unease at his environment. Shipping containers could easily create close quarters, definitely weren’t fun to be slammed into, even with invulnerability, could clatter over and hurt someone if he hit them with enough force, and provided a lot of coverage for people to hide behind and within that super-senses couldn’t account for 100% of the time.

“Scoops?” Clark felt a little ridiculous calling after it, but it responded to voice commands, didn’t it? “Scoops?” He called again.

He heard a low grunt of pain on the other side of one of the shipping containers and quickly hopped over it to see two shipping yard security guards on the ground, one unconscious, the other groaning in pain. Both had steady heartbeats, but there was a faint smell of electricity in the air, and burnt hair.

“Sir?” He dropped to one knee.

The security guard grunted. “The… the bracelet…” was all he managed before passing out. Clark set his jaw before picking them both up and quickly moving them back to a safer location where hopefully their coworkers would find them, then followed the sound of Scoops’ hover-mag whirring as quietly as he could, realizing there was now a metallic resonant quality to the sound—it was coming from inside one of the shipping containers. The sound of the hover-mag had stilled to one location. He reached the source—a shipping container at the very edge of the pier, the doors were swung open. Clark leaned in to peek inside. There were a couple of crates scattered around the interior of the shipping container, of varying age and make.

Unconsciously, Clark set his feet back on the ground.

There was a woman in the shipping container, her back to him, thin hands clasped around Scoops’s chassis as the drone’s single camera eye stared down at her as if to say, ‘Now what?’ Slung across the woman’s back was a chunky chrome gun that seemed nearly as big as her whole torso, but what really caught Clark’s eye was the gleaming art deco spider bracelet on her wrist. All the guard had said to Clark was ‘the bracelet,’ which made wariness prickle on the back of his neck. Why the guard would mention the bracelet rather than the almost comically huge gun was beyond him. So… she wasn’t friendly, probably. But still, he knew he didn’t understand the situation, and just because someone had a very very big scary gun, and had probably knocked out two security guards, that didn’t mean they were incapable of reasonable discussion.

“Ma’am, I’m going to have to ask for that drone back,” he said, putting his hands on his hips, before pausing for a second, and adding, “Please.”

She turned to face him and he froze.

She was in a sleek black outfit, with a cropped black jacket, a low-cut, side-slit black dress over charcoal web-patterned leggings, and short boots. Her hair was bleached white and probably medium length, though it was hard to tell, with short blunt bangs at the front and the back swept up into two sleek, asymmetrical victory rolls. She turned around and gave him a too-familiar catlike little smile on too-red lips, the construction of her face utterly unmistakeable.

“Lois��?” The name came out of him dumbly and he immediately realized Superman always called her ‘Ms. Lane,’ always. She had Lois’s fierce pixie features, looked to be a handful of years older, but there was a sense of both sharp awareness and unfathomable exhaustion behind her eyes that filled him with dread. She had seen things—things she could never bring to share with another human being. It was an exhaustion he caught in his own face in the mirror sometimes, when he had been Superman for just a little too long that day, and the awareness that the world was just so much was weighing on him heavier and heavier.

That catlike smile turned pitying. “Very close, Boy Scout,” she said, before, with a shift of her shoulders, she slung that massive gun down to her hip and hauled it up to point at him.

“Okay,” Clark put his hands up, “Ma’am, I think you should know, you’re not the first—”

She blasted him in a blinding ray of neon coral and day-glo yellow, the force of it slamming him into the shipping container behind him, the steel buckling with a protesting shriek at his impact. Clark still wasn’t sure how his invulnerability worked, exactly, but in that moment, when that beam first hit him, full on in the torso (Surface area—again with the surface area), the image of the charred remains of a skeleton flashed to his mind and his train of thought became a throbbing panicked heartbeat of ‘This would kill a human, this would kill a human, this would kill a human.’ He wasn’t sure if it was 3 seconds or an eternity had passed before the beam ceased and he practically peeled off of the side of the shipping container to drop on the ground with a sad thud.

“The BG-80 Toastmaster,” said the woman, stepping toward him slowly, “Courtesy of Earth-Zero. With some modifications.”

Clark struggled to his elbows and knees and coughed, smoke rising off of him.

She tsk-tsked. “Oh you are squishier in this universe, aren’t you?”

“Look,” Clark’s voice was thick, and it took some effort to raise his head and one hand from the ground to try to motion at her in an ‘I mean no harm’ gesture,  “I know the League of Lois Lanes doesn’t trust me, but whatever’s happening—”

“You think I’m with the League?” she said with a bitter laugh in her voice. She blasted him again. In the back.

Somewhere in the mind-numbing blaze of pain and the sensation of the concrete crumbling underneath him as he was slammed to the ground, he thought, Huh, that really is a lot of surface area. The second blow at least managed to kick better survival instincts into gear. This isn’t your Lois, he had to tell himself, She is very much an active threat. She wants to hurt you. She has hurt you, she is hurting you, so you have to get over the face and the voice and the everything else and act so she doesn’t hurt you or someone else again. The gun—just heat vision it—just concentrate, you’re close enough and it’s big enough that you don’t have to worry too much about hitting her—no, wait—what if it explodes? You don’t know what it’s made of—

There was a series of clicks and Clark looked up at her, willing the heat behind his eyes, but the muzzle of the gun was glowing red now and again, he got caught up in that exhaustion, that pity, in her face. She wasn’t with the League of Lois Lanes? Then what did she want? Why was she here? And what did Scoops of all things have to do with it all?

“Don’t worry,” she said dispassionately, “I’m not hitting you with anything you can’t take.”

“But—” Clark started. But she fired again. The blast wasn’t that overwhelming neon this time, but red, red, red. And then everything went black.

[disventurecamptakes]

Welcome back Mod Jake ! :>

If you don’t mind answering: How do you feel about the current remaining contestants (as of Episode 15)?

Hi anon, thank you! These might not be thought out super well but here are my basic takes:

Jake: The blorbo from my show! I feel like the build up to Jake’s character arc was dragged out in the first 12 episodes or so, but for the last three I’ve really enjoyed him— Tom was really holding him back clearly. His friendship with Aiden one of the highlights of the season for me. It’s nice to see him become more honest and emotionally mature and happy after everything he’s been through. If he doesn’t make the finale I’m going to sob.

Ally: Hot take but I like antagonist/morally gray Ally for the most part. The idea of a character who is so online that they become too insecure to function, who ends up pushing people away and becoming hated in their quest to be loved, is really interesting. And frankly sometimes characters have to become worse before they get better. However, within the context of the show’s pattern of either having the female characters work as support for the male protagonists or villainizing independent female characters, I do see why people find it frustrating.

Grett: Grett’s another character who had some weird build up (up until episode 13 she just felt like “Yul’s poor sad meow meow girlfriend” to me tbh, I felt like she wasn’t doing much) but I do like what they’ve done with her in the last few episodes. She’s clearly been through a lot of hardship and it’s nice to see a character come out on top of that. I also loved her friendship with Gabby, it was really cute and I wish it would’ve lasted a little longer, it’s nice to show Grett reconciling with her past by improving for the future and treating the person she was the worst to with kindness, as opposed to Yul who was terrible to her and left even worse. I would’ve written her a little differently but she still deserves to win imo. Also she slays always.

Riya: What did they do to my girl?? I loved Riya’s arc in season two, I thought she and Ellie had two of the best villain arcs in the series and I thought Riya was one of the best season two characters. But they really flushed that down the drain by making her comically evil and forgetting her motive. In season two Riya was a villain but she was sympathetic; she gradually lost sight of her morals in a quest for affection and fame, alienating her closest friend (Rosa María) and ultimately putting herself in mortal danger, which caused her to somewhat see the error of her ways. In the beginning of season three I think they tried to carry this over, showing her inner conflict in earlier episodes like episode 3. But by episode 14 they’d just…totally lost what made Riya human— a desire to fit in to what other people think of her (whether that be movie star or villain), close relationships with Connor and Alec, guilt, a sympathetic past, everything that happened in the season two finale— now she’s just evil because she’s evil, full stop. It’s really disappointing, because having her try too hard to lean into her villain persona and ultimately snapping out of it would’ve been so much more interesting, and I feel like if that’s what they plan to do later then they’re building up to it terribly tbh.

Connor: I really liked Connor in episodes 1-7, I thought he was a good straight-man and foil to Riya and Alec, I thought he was just pleasant and I liked seeing his growth from season two to now. But these last few episodes have simultaneously made him very unlikable while also making him essentially the main character, for some reason. The nepo baby plotline wasn’t built up to at all and it really undermines the successful businessman thing he had going, which made him feel more mature and intelligent; plus making him a union buster on top of that is just poor taste, like wtf. Having Jake as his right hand makes Jake more likable but it just makes Connor seem pathetic having this dude constantly go “nooo Connor pull it together remember that speech you gave us? really cool”. Like yeah Connor rallying the heroes together that one time was good, a little corny but ultimately good for the plot, but other than that all he does is be passive aggressive (or just aggressive) with Riya and Alec and be sad. Also making his feelings for Riya just disappear?? What?? He was in love with her, they understood each other in a way that no one else did in season two, his love for her humanized him a lot and vice versa with Riya’s feelings for him. Why remove that entirely? Sorry if I’m being harsh but I’m honestly really disappointed in how Connor’s being handled, he and Riya and Alec were a highlight of the early episodes and now they’ve been reduced to like the TD love triangle 2.0. But like, fanon love triangle, where Courtney is ridiculously evil for some reason and Gwuncan are just poor sad babies who did nothing wrong. Also if Connor makes the finale I’m going to be so annoyed. He doesn’t need three million dollars, he’s already rich.

Alec: Alec has gone from one of the most calculating and clever villains in the show’s history to a groveling little baby man and I don’t like it. On one hand I do like the idea of Alec growing a conscience after all he’s done to manipulate the game, and I do think it would be cute if that came from his relationships with Riya and Connor. But on the other, he’s become too pathetic imo. Alec’s defining traits are his intelligence, apathetic tendencies, and level-headed demeanor, and they’re really stripping that all back to make the audience sympathize with him when we already could’ve done that easily based on what’s already there?? The Riyalec kiss scene was really good at this; it showed us Alec’s and Riya’s deepest insecurities and regrets, then showed us the two understanding each other and finding comfort in that. Shipping aside, I genuinely think maintaining a positive relationship between them, friendly or romantic, would make them both feel more human while also allowing them to both remain as antagonists because they both would enable each other. They just took all the edge away from his character for like, mid yaoi crumbs. The way Riya is written vs how Connor & Alec are written actually feels reminiscent of how some m/m fics will demonize the fuck out of a character’s girlfriend or female friend or etc to prop up the male characters as sweet angels who’ve done nothing wrong, if I’m being honest.

Overall, I loved Aleconniya until episode 14 but I just want all three of them gone at this point because their writing is really far off from their original characterizations and it’s overall just not very good. But I do enjoy Jake, Grett, and Ally for the most part and hope they make the finale. Sorry this got kinda long, thank you for the question anon!

[sadwizardlover]

The Memories We Share

Summary: Rolan and Tav go watch some fireworks together; a lot of reminiscing occurs Tags: Gnome Tav, (slight) angst, hurt/comfort, fluff Author's note: inspired by a tadpole @rolanpilled stuck in my brain

Link on AO3 (For background context, my Tav is a gnome bard who was adopted and raised by humans)

It had been a ridiculous idea from the beginning, going to see the fireworks at Gray Harbor. Rolan had tried telling Tav–they had their own tower, in the Upper City, with a balcony from which they’d most certainly have a better view of the fireworks than from on the ground. But Tav had insisted–in that irritating, infuriating, but somehow irresistible way of hers–that it wouldn’t be the same. She was a Baldurian through and through, and firmly believed the best (and only) way to experience life in Baldur’s Gate was to spend time where Baldurians actually went. Even if that meant being stuck in a crowd crush by the docks, with the air scented by rotting fish and the unwashed masses.

“And besides,” Tav had said, “my parents used to take me to see the Harbor fireworks all the time when I was small. I want to share that with you, too.”

Well. Who was he to argue with that?

Which was how they found themselves in their current predicament: trapped in the middle of a noisy throng of people near the Water Queen’s House, minutes before the fireworks were due to start, with Tav anxiously rummaging through her comically disorganized pack for a scroll. If Rolan hadn’t been so grumpy about having been induced into going to the Harbor in the first place, he would have smugly said I knew this would happen. Because the one argument he hadn’t made in trying to talk her out of her silly idea–out of sensitivity for her feelings–was that she was a gnome, and was hardly going to be able to see anything surrounded by people double her size.

“I know I have a Scroll of Enlarge in here somewhere,” Tav was saying, as she pulled yet another useless ring out of her pack (why did she have so many things in there to begin with? He’d told her time and time again that she didn’t need to pick up every shiny object that caught her eye like some sort of demented crow…) “I’m sorry Rolan, I should’ve thought about this before…”

“It’s….fine,” he said huffily, avoiding looking at her as she started frantically shaking her bag. “How did you watch the fireworks with your parents?”

“What?”

“I said, how did you watch the fireworks with your parents when you were…little…smaller than you are now?”

“Oh! My mom Hanna would pull me up,” Tav said. “She wanted me to be able to see everything so she’d just sort of lift me up on her shoulders and I’d sit there during the show. It was quite nice…” At this last bit her voice softened. Rolan glanced over and saw she was looking off in the distance, her eyes shining slightly with moisture. Zurgan, had he made her cry? He knew he could be insensitive, but he hadn’t thought he’d said anything particularly—

Oh. Her mother. Rolan recalled Tav telling him about Hanna, one of the two human women who’d raised her, over dinner at the Blushing Mermaid a few months before. “This was Hanna’s favorite tavern too,” she’d said, laughing as they’d watched the barkeep chuck a drunken sailor out onto the porch. 

“Before she met my mom Esme, she used to work for the Guild as a–well as a con artist I guess, I can’t really sugar coat what she did–and she’d come here to find marks. The pickings here were almost always good, she used to tell me, and even on days when they weren’t, nothing beat kicking back with a strong pint of ale and someone easy on the eyes for company.” She’d looked up at him with a slight flush in her cheeks and a sparkle in her eyes that made his heart stutter; he’d coughed and tried to change the subject.

“Are your parents still in Baldur’s Gate? They must be worried sick all the time, what with you constantly having to play the hero.” He’d meant it as a joke, a bit of lighthearted banter so she’d stop looking at him so coquettishly with those big bright eyes, but the way her expression changed to one of shock made him instantly wish he could take it back. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean–”

“No no, it’s fine! It’s fine.” The brightness in her voice was hollower than her usual upbeat tone, like she was forcing herself to stay cheery. “They’re not around anymore, no. They’ve been gone for, oh, about a decade now? Yeah, I think it’s been a decade…Hanna went…Hanna died…Hanna…” Tav had taken a deep breath and then shot out a rapid spew of words, as if trying to force them out before she burst. “Hanna was killed a few streets over from here, there were some halflings, mom always looked out for little folk like me and they were getting mugged or something like that and mom just couldn’t walk away, not my Hanna, and, well, one of the muggers had a knife and it had been years since mom was with the Guild so she wasn’t as sharp on her feet…and then someone found her in the alley and they tried to get her to a healer but you know, there was only so much time. And then they came to our shop to tell us.”

Rolan had been baffled on how to react to this. That she’d felt compelled to tell him such a painful memory because of something he’d said–that she even had such painful memories, when he’d always just assumed she’d blazed through her entire life with the same relentless cheerfulness with which she’d blazed into his—struck him with such guilt that he wanted to slap himself. He’d known she was adopted; he’d even, for a time, resented her for it: because her parents had chosen to love her despite her not being of their blood or their kind, while his parents, his flesh and blood, had rejected him outright. But she’d said she’d grown up happy. Rolan had thought she’d always been happy.

Gods, what an ass he was, as usual; couldn’t even make a joke properly without hurting someone he cared about, what a complete and total ass–

“Rolan.” Tav’s voice had snapped him out of his self-hating spiral, and he’d looked up to see that she had reached across the table and was gently touching his sleeve. “It’s okay. Really, it’s okay. It does hurt to think about, sometimes, and I haven’t talked about it with anyone in…well, I’ve never really talked about it to begin with. But I wanted to tell you. I chose to tell you, because my parents were important to me, and you’re important to me too, and I want to share those memories with you, even if they hurt.” The way she’d looked at him as she’d said this, with such gentleness and kindness and something else that he didn’t dare name–because he wasn’t sure he deserved that from her–nearly short circuited his brain. 

“So! Don’t be too hard on yourself, grumpy goblin,” Tav said, before she’d sat back in her chair and beamed at him with her normal sparkle–but with a hint of tenderness still left in her eyes. They’d continued their dinner as normal after that: talking about what her companions and Cal and Lia had been getting up to recently, arguing over silly things (she’d accidentally flooded the floor in the Tower earlier that week by having Shadowheart cast a rain spell; Tav insisted she’d done it so she wouldn’t drip doppleganger blood all over the carpet, Rolan couldn’t believe she was really that dense and hadn’t she heard of just taking a bath?). 

But he couldn’t help but feel like they’d crossed some sort of invisible threshold he’d not been aware of before, and while the thought made him apprehensive, it also made him more than a little pleased–as if he’d passed a test he hadn’t studied for with flying colors.

Now though–with the first of the fireworks lighting the sky overhead and Tav hastily swiping her fingers across her eyes as though that could disguise the fact that she was very definitely starting to cry–Rolan desperately wished he was actually as gifted with words as he pretended to be. There had to be something, anything, he could say to make her feel better; she’d been looking forward to this night for weeks and with one stupidly careless question he’d ruined it for her. But what was he supposed to say? Apologies for bringing up your dead mother (again), I only asked because I wondered how you could possibly see anything here, being so short? Lia would kick him in the shin for even considering it. 

Fine, then. If words failed him then action would have to do. Rolan’s mind rapidly shuffled through a small pool of possibilities, ranging from patting her on the head (too patronizing) to grabbing her by the shoulders and kissing her (WHY was he even imagining that). Finally, in what seemed like a fit of divine insight, he seized on the perfect plan of attack.

“Tav,” Rolan said, with more force than he’d intended. “Get behind me.” Tav looked up at him like he’d suddenly grown an extra head.

“Rolan, are you alright?” she asked, with a look of such concern it made him want to scream. “If you want to go home now we can…”

“That’s not what I said,” he snapped.

“Then what–”

“Oh for the love of all the gods–come here.” Rolan moved closer to Tav and then bent down in front of her, hoping she’d take the hint. Unfortunately she seemed to be particularly insistent on being obtuse tonight. “Get on my back, you idiot, I look ridiculous squatting like this.”

“Oh! Oh. Are you sure?”

“Why wouldn’t I be sure? I’m crouching in front of you, surrounded by all these people who will probably be gossiping for days about how they saw the Archmage of Ramazith’s Tower bending down in front of a gnome, because I want you to be able to see the fireworks at the fireworks show that you insisted we go to even though I have a perfectly good tower that we–ow!!” He grimaced as Tav wrapped her arms around his neck and then playfully choked him. “What was that for?!”

“You talk too much sometimes,” she said with a laugh. “You can lift me up now.”

“Do you think I’m your mule or something and you can just boss me around? You’re worse than Cal and Lia,” Rolan grumbled, but he did what she’d told him to anyway, making sure to support her so she didn’t lose her balance. Funny–until just that moment, he’d forgotten that the last time he’d carried someone like this had been when his siblings were younger, demanding all of his attention and endless piggyback rides. Lia would pretend that she was a Hellrider, charging into battle to defend Elturel on a mighty warhorse; Cal would ask Rolan to act like a bear (complete with bear noises) and dance around with him on his back. It had been such a small and easy thing for him to do, but the way they’d laughed and screeched and tugged at his sleeves to beg for just one more ride, pretty please, had made Rolan feel like the most important person in the universe. After years of fending for himself and having life spit in his face, he’d coveted and craved that feeling more than anything. 

A series of multicolored fireworks like enormous flowers burst into the air above them and Tav gasped in delight. She was so easily delighted–he was fairly sure he could replicate the same sort of pyrotechnics from the Tower, only his fireworks would be three times as large and have even more colors–but even so, hearing how happy she sounded made Rolan’s earlier surliness vanish. He wondered if this was how she’d been when her parents had taken her to see the fireworks: oohing and aahing at every little explosion, legs swinging back and forth, her face resting against her mother’s head. He smiled imagining it, and also at the thought that in this moment, he was partially the cause of her happiness.

“Oooh Rolan, Rolan look!” Tav was tapping on his horn to get his attention. He glanced over at where she was pointing. A bit further down from them, a group of kids was casting prestidigitation spells into the air, little bursts of color and light lingering for only a moment before flickering away. They weren’t very good at it; had Rolan been their tutor, he would’ve pointed out at least three critical flaws in their execution and taken marks off for sloppy spellwork. But Tav clapped loudly and shouted “bravo!” when they were finished, causing the amateur casters to giggle bashfully and take a bow.

“You really are far too easy to please,” Rolan said with a smirk. “If I cast Colour Spray you’d be so overwhelmed with awe you’d probably faint.”

“Don’t be jealous, Rolan. I clapped for you too, remember?" Tav said this not in her usual cheery tone but softer, lower, and right next to his ear. Was she flirting with him? He couldn't be sure, but his tail twitched with pleasure anyway.

And he did remember, actually, even though it felt like years has passed since then. Back at her camp outside the druid’s grove, when they’d all been celebrating the goblin’s defeat, when they’d all been buoyed by the expectation that in a few days they’d be safe in Baldur’s Gate. Before the Shadow-Cursed Lands had cut off that hope for so many of them. Before Cal and Lia…no, he wouldn’t think of that. Right now they were safe and happy and living a life the three of them could never have imagined; that was all that mattered.

They owed that life to Tav. When she’d clapped for his silly little show at her camp, he’d hardly known or cared to know her; she was just a gnome who (in his view) had killed the goblin leaders through sheer dumb luck. He did appreciate that she’d given his siblings something to feel good about, because by the gods they needed it, but his main focus was on getting to his apprenticeship with Lorroakan. His whole future hinged on that one opportunity, leaving him no time or consideration for anything else, and even though Rolan had told her party he hoped to meet them again in Baldur’s Gate he hadn’t seriously meant it. He was certain they’d never see each other again.

And yet. Time and time again, Tav had come barging into his life–always when he was at his lowest, when he felt like the gods had singled him out for a lifetime of nothing but heartbreak and abuse–like a one-gnome force of nature dead set on making him see value in himself and taking down anyone who stood in his way. Even though she had so many other things to worry about and the fate of a city and the entire Sword Coast was in her hands, Tav always put him first in everything. Rolan was unused to being put first in anyone’s thoughts; hells, he wasn’t used to being thought of at all by anyone apart from his family. He’d never understand why she cared so much about him, but Zurgan he was so grateful she did that the force of his gratitude could’ve torn him apart.

Of course Rolan couldn’t tell her any of this. He’d never find the right words, and even if he did, the bit of stubborn pride he still possessed would never let him. So instead he fell back on his old strategy for dealing with the feelings he couldn’t express or didn’t want to dwell on, and deflected grumpily. 

“Jealous? Of children? I would’ve thought you knew me better by now but it seems I was sorely mistaken, if you think that your clapping for children who can barely cast and are even shorter than you is enough to make me jealmmMPH–!" 

His grumbling was cut off abruptly by Tav tilting his face up and tenderly pressing her lips against his own. Rolan immediately forgot what he’d been complaining about just a second before; every thought flew straight out of his head, except for the one that was screaming at him to kiss her back before she realized she’d made a terrible mistake and ran horrified out of his life forever. And so he did, trying his best to put all his feelings for her that he couldn’t put into words–his awe, his gratitude, his love–into this one kiss. The awkward angle made his neck ache and he just knew someone in the crowd around them was going to leak to the Gazette about how Archmage Rolan went around kissing gnomes in public, but none of that mattered right now. The only thing that mattered was Tav.

When she finally pulled her mouth away from his, Rolan didn't want to open his eyes, terrified that she'd be looking at him with disgust or hatred. Instead his eyes fluttered open and Tav was….smirking at him?

"That was nice, huh?" she said, in a tone that both made him want to kiss her again and made him want to drop her on her head. "Aren't you glad you agreed to come here with me?"

"You—you are—you're–" Words were failing him completely. "Ugh, you're an idiot!" 

Tav laughed. "I am, but I'm your idiot. And," She gently cupped his cheek in her hand and planted a soft kiss on his forehead, "this idiot is happy you could share this memory with her. Truly, Rolan. There's nowhere I'd ever rather be than with you."

Her words made him so happy he might actually combust, but not knowing how to reply in a way that wouldn't make him sound like a lovesick schoolboy, he just looked away instead. “Are you actually going to watch the fireworks you made such a fuss over, or should we just go home?” Rolan snapped, hoping she’d pick up on the lightheartedness in his tone. Tav chuckled softly in response and lay her head back against his. As the last of the fireworks tumbled across the night sky, he suddenly realized he’d never felt more content than he did just then. After everything they’d been through–both together and apart–the fact that he could simply share an ordinary moment with her like this was the sweetest reward he could ever have hoped for.

Hm, he thought to himself, maybe coming here wasn’t such a ridiculous idea after all.

[catofadifferentcolor]

The Old Guard: Force Multiplied

It's always easier to just ignore your sins than to confront them.

I stumbled quite by accident on The Old Guard two weeks ago, as part of a crossover with another fandom. At that point I’d only heard of the comic as the inspiration for a movie that came out on Netflix shortly after I got rid of my account, but I was intrigued enough that I went looking for more. 

Contrary to my usual order of things, I ended up reading a lot of the fanfic first - and then went looking for the movie. Unfortunately, it was only on available on Netflix - and such was my intrigue that after three days of wrestling with myself I reopened my account just to watch the movie.

I was able to get my hands on the first two installments of the graphic novel this weekend and read Opening Fire yesterday - and was largely impressed. Force Multiplied leaves me with much different feelings, mainly because it doesn't make sense.

Don't get me wrong. I understand where Noriko is coming from. I get that she feels betrayed for not being rescued and that anyone is bound to be a bit mad after endlessly drowning for the last five hundred years. What I don't get is how one goes from all of that to and so the whole of humanity has to suffer. Of which there are certainly easier and more thorough ways to go about it than human trafficking and organized crime - a war, for instance. That she'd want to get back at Andy - yes, sure. That all of humanity has to pay for it - not so much.

Honestly, it kind of makes me glad they altered her character to Quynh for the movie, because at least it gives her a reasonable expectation of being rescued and therefore a better reason to feel betrayed.

Leaving Andy at the end doesn't make sense either - unless it was a ploy to figure out what Noriko was up to. Setting aside all issues of judging the past by present standards and writing off those same issues as just the way it was then, one must acknowledge character growth. Whatever Andy might have once done, whatever she might once have believed, she is currently trying to do good by helping people. Is she perfect? No. Should she be forgiven for doing things she knew to be wrong? No. But abandoning her for not always being a beacon of modern morals seems... wrong. Especially when it's the youngest making that call.

Not everyone starts on the right side of history. If we cannot grow as people - if we cannot acknowledge we have done wrong and work to better ourselves - if we are not allowed to change and have our change acknowledged - than why bother changing at all? Just because most redemption arcs end with the redeemed dying doesn't mean we should ignore that the redemption happened. The path is hard and the past unforgivable... but if someone tries to improve, you have to let them.

I'm not sure what I'm going for here other than that the narrative seems confused. Which I suppose is understandable when you're trying to boil down deep issues of philosophy and ethics into a hundred page graphic novel. Maybe I need to do a couple rereads to find some nuance I'm missing... but mostly I'm just confused.

...and a little apprehensive about TOG2. The first movie followed the first installment fairly closely. If the second follows the same pattern, well, I hope the additional screen time can flush out the narrative that really needs about six issues of backstory and another six of context to make better sense.

Beyond that, there's much I still want to know about these characters and all the ways they touched history and slow, creeping feeling of certainty that I'll never get it. Maybe Tales Through Time will have some of the character-driven backstories I'm hoping for, but we'll have to wait and see.

A regretful three out of five, mostly just for the WTF I'm left feeling.

[quintessencea]

Beside the Museum, my current hyperfixation, I keep playing around with this oddly specific version of a College AU... It has Classic Sanster, Sans and Gaster (student and professor), but it's actually good and not toxic, if taboo for their positions. But in contrast, it ALSO has Experiment Sanster, Comic and the Doctor (student and administrator), and the Doctor is just... The worst 😁

Because I've been lacking in posting noncon, or anything really... So... Have this? I had an urge to see the Doctor forcing Comic to beg, and wrote this drabble. Going to gather and share some of my wild tangent bits like this :)

Tw for rape, abuse of authority, begging, slight blood/injury... I think that'll do it?

I think I'll tag it... #expUniversityAU

"d-doctor, please! ahh, please, st-stop!"

The Doctor laughed, squeezing tighter around Comic's shoulders as Comic's cunt squeezed him tighter in turn. His little toy was almost perfect, resilient and beautiful, and as moldable as soft clay.

"Oh, you can lie with your words," he whispered, leaning to lick a long stripe up the side of his little face as a shudder ran through Comic's entire body. "But your body tells me exactly what you really feel."

"t-too much!" Comic gasped, arching into his touch. "it h-hurts, sir! it's too much, sir, pl-"

"You *love* it," he hissed, pressing an almost gentle kiss to his skull even as he thrust up deeper into Comic's plush heat, holding himself at Comic's limit. "You love being treated like this by me, don't you?"

Comic groaned and shook his head, but wasn't try to push away anymore. Instead he was slowly rocking back and forth against the Doctor's cock, his body chasing the bare dregs of pleasure, whimpering softly as he was pinned.

"Of course you do. That's why you're so wet for me."

Comic sobbed weakly, looking up at him through hazy eyelights as he shook his head, but there was a disconnection in his eyes, something lacking between thought and action. The pain was clear on his face, his sockets pinched, his mouth hanging open as he cried. But with it was a flush on his face and as the Doctor began to move again, fucking him into the mattress, he drew in a long breath, only to lose it in a moan.

"You can't deny that you feel good when I'm doing this to you, can you? It feels so nice to be filled up like this, doesn't it? Fucked like the plaything you are."

"yes... yes, sir..."

"I bet you'll cum if I keep going like this." He pulled his hips back, sliding almost all the way out of him before harshly thrusting right back in, making Comic take all of him in one rough motion. Comic's head rocked back as he gave a rough scream, his voice laced with more than just pain. "Tell me the truth, Comic. Tell me how much you want this. How much you love having me inside you like this. You want to cum, don't you?"

Comic moaned softly, his eyes beginning losing focus as he cried.

"You know you do," he said quietly, letting his words drop to something softer as he moved hand to Comic's throat. "Beg me to let you cum."

His fingers curled around the delicate bones and Comic stiffened a moment before going limp. Compliant. The rush the Doctor felt was almost too much to hold back, but he fought himself back under control, breathing deeply as he pulled, carefully, drawing Comic's skull upwards until they were close, so close that their faces were almost touching. His other hand slipped down to tease across Comic's ribs, curling around the small rib cage and holding tight. He rolled his hips, sharing Comic's breath as he drank in Comic's broken expression.

"Do it."

"y-yes..." Comic's breathing was coming faster now, small little broken sounds escaping him between breaths. "yes, s-sir, please... l-let me cum... please..."

Victory was sweet as he leaned in closer still, claiming Comic's mouth with his own. Comic's teeth parted slightly for his tongue to slip inside, while his hand kept squeezing his ribs, holding him still as he began fucking him in earnest.

As Comic submitted wholly beneath him, he started moving faster, finding the spot that made Comic twitch with each thrust, striking it again and again, and feeling his little body quiver as his orgasm approached. It was over in a matter of moments. When it hit, Comic cried out loudly, nearly shrieking into the Doctor's kiss, bucking his hips off the bed, inner walls clenching tightly as the Doctor fucked him through it.

The Doctor didn't stop as Comic began to come down from the high, keeping up the same relentless pace until the pleasure cries warped to discomfort, and then to overstimulated pain. The Doctor broke the kiss, but Comic didn't fight back. There was exhaustion in they way his head fell back, arms limp against the bed, but it was more than that. It was as if he simply lacked the will to resist any longer, allowing the Doctor to use his body like a toy. Broken. Helpless.

Comic's tears began again, and the Doctor groaned as he felt his orgasm start to build within himself. He let go of Comic's throat to grab his jaw, forcing him to look at him.

"That's a good boy," he whispered huskily. "A very good boy."

Comic's face was still flushed, his body hot as he stared up in dazed confusion, clearly on the edge of consciousness. The Doctor smiled at him, then leaned forward and kissed him again, holding it for several seconds as his orgasm finally came, rolling over him while he enjoyed every twitch of that electrifying magic around his cock.

When he finally released him, Comic was breathing heavily, tears flowing from his eyes as he lay there on the bed, trying weakly to catch his breath.

Grinning, the Doctor pulled out of him, leaving a trail of wetness in his wake. His smile only grew when he saw the amount of red mixed in with the blue and purple, beautiful artwork the likes of which no canvas could ever hope to capture. He gave Comic one final press of a kiss against his temple, chuckling lightly as those expressive eye sockets sagged shut.

"Rest now. I'll be back for you soon enough."

He stood, slipping back into his clothes as Comic’s breathing evened out into slumber. With one final look over his shoulder as his exquisite little toy, he left the room, locking the door behind him with a key.

This really was too much fun, he thought to himself, whistling pleasantly as he made his way down the hallway.