#did i spell that properly? probably non

[goslingwosling]

Rethinking his life choices

[the-little-ewok]

“permission to lean in?” “permission granted”, “with your lips on mine…”, and “you kissed me last night.” “and you didn’t stop me.” with Poe?

Unremarkable

Poe Dameron x G!N reader

Rating : M

Wordcount : 1400

Warnings : Non descriptive sexual contact mentions, sort of enemies to lovers (but also sort of not?), mentions of marriage, a bunch of teasing and banter.

Summary : The morning after the night before has you giving Poe some choice feedback.

A/N : Sorry I kept this kinda short and sweet and I didn't include one of the prompts. It was difficult to fit in. And sorry it's taken me so long to finish it!

Un-beta'd. Sorry for any mistakes!!

~~~~~

"You kissed me last night," Poe comments the moment he walks into the empty meeting room, unceremoniously throwing himself down in the chair beside you, scrambling to catch the cup of caf he upsets on the table in the process.

"And you didn't stop me," you reply with a sigh at his actions, mopping up the spillage as he gives you an apologetic look. Even as a General, Poe was still a disaster flyboy, though you don't know why you thought that would ever change.

"Oh I know. I just wanted to remind you about it so it was at the forefront of your mind," he grins, not missing a beat in the conversation despite the mess he's made. You roll your eyes, trying to ignore the heat that prickles the back of your neck at the memory of what followed that kiss, the one that had you both stumbling into a supply cupboard of all places. Yes you might have instigated the kiss, but Poe had taken it much further than you had intended at that moment.

"You're right, I did need a reminder because it was pretty forgettable," you shrug, as though there isn't molten lava flowing through your veins at the memory of his tongue between your teeth, his body pressed against yours, the sound of supplies clattering to the ground from the shelves with the force of his thrusts.

You don't look at him, but out of the corner of your eye you see Poe's eyebrows shoot up somewhere into his hairline, and you have to bite your tongue to stop your laughter. He recovers quickly, leaning back in his chair and attempting to look as nonchalant as possible.

"So you won't be wanting a repeat tonight then?" He asks casually, picking up his datapad and flicking through it as though he isn't subtly watching your reaction.

You shrug noncommittally, dragging out your consideration as you sip what's left of your caf.

"Hmm, I don't think I had plans tonight, but that said I'm sure I can find something better to do."

"Than me?" Poe scoffs, as though he can't possibly imagine you would want to spend a night anywhere else. He gives up the show of looking at his work, throwing the data pad back on the table and folding his arms. "Well I heard Retha is hosting a film night in the mess. I'd probably have more fun at that than with you anyway."

"Probably,” you shrug, “but you know you can't concentrate through an entire film.” You glance over at him, watching his eyebrows pull together in a frown. He knows you're telling the truth but he's spoiling to argue about it.

"How would you know? You fall asleep ten minutes in and then wake up for the end asking twenty questions about who people are,” he accuses in retaliation, meeting your gaze with a glare of his own.

You jump back in, ready to defend yourself because he knows the problem is him. How many times have you settled down in his bunk to watch something and ended up under him, above him, and well, a whole lot of other positions that did not in any way involve watching the film.

"That's a lie. You've hardly ever let me watch properly to know what's going on anyway!"

"What's that supposed to mean?" He asks. You give him a pointed look of warning, wondering if he really wants you to bring up his handsy antics in front of the other resistance members who have started to file into the room. When he continues to glare at you you decide he clearly needs it spelling out.

“It means maybe I don't know what's going on because someone can't keep their di-” you cut off your hissed reply, temporarily putting your argument on hold as Poe is interrupted by one of his commanders. You offer up a small smile at the others who begin taking their places around the table, chattering softly between themselves.

When everyone seems otherwise distracted Poe rounds back on you, unable just to simply drop the topic.

"Okay, point taken, but I only interrupt the boring films," he concedes, folding his arms stubbornly. "And let's be fair you've never complained."

"Well there's never really anything to comment on, complaints or otherwise" you shrug, watching his mouth fall open that for a second time you've insulted what he considered his second best talent to flying. His eyes flash dangerously and you can't help squirming in your seat, a delicious tingling licking across your skin at the thought he may make you pay for that, one way or another.

Poe’s eyes narrow and he leans in close to you.

“Oh really? Not even that one time we-”

"Are you two done?" Finn interrupts, making both of you startle. You feel your cheeks heat with embarrassment, realising everyone at the table is now staring at the two of you. Sitting back you fold your arms, it's Poe’s fault. He started it.

You catch the tail end of Poe's grumbled comments to himself as he gets up to host the meeting, turning on the screens with a "forgettable…show you nothing to comment on."

~~~~

You stay behind as everyone filters out, leaning against the edge of the table waiting for him.

"So," Poe asks coming to stand in front of you, placing his arms either side of you, caging you in place. "Forgettable? I doubt you would have married someone who left you with forgettable hmm… moments." He settles on with a grin.

You laugh, amused that he's still not over the fact you said that, even almost two hours later.

"I was caught up in the momentum of victory," you tease, enjoying the butterflies his closeness gives you, still basking in the joy of being newlyweds after the end of the war. "I was excited to marry the resistance poster boy. Who knew he'd become so predictably boring? I mean really Poe? A supply closet? You can do better than that."

He huffs in response, acting offended all over again.

"Oh so now I'm forgettable and boring? I really thought you were still hopelessly in love with me and enjoying every moment of christening our new base. I mean, you certainly seemed to be enjoying it, rather loudly if I remember correctly," he gives you a smug grin and a raise of his eyebrow. He knows full well how much you enjoyed it and yes, perhaps you had been just a little bit loud about it.

You shrug, still playing along.

“Oh baby, that was all show. I couldn't let you think you were disappointing. You are the big scary General after all,” you tease in a babyish tone.

Poe glares at you, stepping back and clasping his hands behind his back, looking every inch the leader he is. The look he gives you sends heat rushing through your veins. The game is wearing thin, his jaw is tense and his eyes are narrowed, waiting for your move. He wants to prove your comments are wrong, even though he already knows you are only teasing.

"I guess I've interpreted this situation completely incorrectly and you don't want to help your General check out all the rooms, including the supply closets?” He asks, unmoving.

You lick your lips, fixing him with a sultry gaze.

“Well, I might be convinced, if only so I can help improve your performance.”

"Well aren't you just so selfless?" He rolls his eyes but steps towards you anyway. "You know I was thinking we could see how this room fairs but I assume that's too predictably boring for you?"

"Well," you grin, "we don't have that much time and this room is conveniently empty."

Another step towards you, "You're sure you have nothing better to do?"

“I have a free five minutes. That's all you need right?” you shrug, making the pilot break all pretence and start laughing.

He grumbles something about cheek and insubordination but you’re too distracted with the way he lights up when he laughs to care about his insults. You’re struck once more with a wave of love, the same one that made you fall for him all that time ago. Stars you adore him, you want him, you need him.

"Permission to lean in?" You ask, curling your fingers into the collar of his shirt, pulling him against you as Poe takes your waist.

He pauses for a moment, making a show of considering your request before his expression finally softens. He leans in to whisper against your lips.

"Permission granted."

He makes sure what happens next is anything but forgettable.

~~~~~~~~

Thanks for reading!

A/N : Please, please if you enjoyed this take the time to comment and reblog! Interaction is the only thing that keeps writers writing!

[rodolfoparras]

Smoke Sprite

Pairing: Captain Price x Trans Male Reader

WC: ca 7k

Synopsis: Price teaches you how to smoke cigars among other things

Content warning: 18+, • MINORS DNI • dry humping • boot worship • boot grinding • verbal degradation • praise • alluded exhibitionism • Sub! Reader • Dom!Price • reference to afab anatomy (sparsely!) • power dynamics • age gap (no specific age stated but in my head it’s like 10 years between them) • no after care

Stand alone/ part of a series:

A/N: The usual disclaimer: English isn’t my first language so excuse any grammatically incorrect sentences, spelling mistakes, ooc, plot holes… heads up for long sentences as well, who needs proper structure anyway.

First time writing smut too bc at some point we ought to dive into this. Am I right or am I right? Also idk how to do accents, as a non native speaker I have a whole vocab that consist of American and British words and at some point something may sound whack but just rewrite it in your head and enjoy the fic hehe

Also don’t be fooled, you will actually learn about cigars here I did a deep dive for this

Few things were hard to come by when enlisted in the army. One of them being a good night's sleep. It was something you as well as many other soldiers battled with. You’d found that the best way to cope with it was to stay up til your mind was as exhausted as your body and one of the ways you’d  make the time pass was by smoking. 

That’s how you found yourself sitting on the window sill of the little kitchen provided on base, half way through your third cigarette, wishing your mind would let your body go to bed.

It wasn’t always bad being unable to sleep. Hours you spent awake (albeit against your will)  were also sometimes hours you’d felt the most at peace.

Tonight felt like one of those nights and the peace washed over you in waves, so much so you finally felt like you were ready to head to bed. 

Just as you’re about to follow through with that thought, a sudden noise at the door catches your attention. 

You turn so quickly you almost drop the cigarette you’re smoking, ash falling over you with the motion.  

It’s too dark to see the intruder’s face but you’re still able to see how he freezes in place and quickly raises his hand in defense.

“Relax sergeant” the tension leaves your body when you hear the intruder speak. You’d recognize that voice anywhere. It was after all one that was on your mind when you couldn’t sleep. “Didn't mean to scare you, was just gonna get something to drink” His voice sounds husky, he’d probably just woken up from his sleep.

You nod your head, as you go to sit down again, taking another drag of your cigarette as you observe the surprise guest. 

His steps are sluggish, head almost dropping as he makes his way over to the fridge and you wonder to yourself if you should turn on some light so he doesn’t trip.

“Don’t know how you can smoke that shit” Price says, somehow managing to express his disdain through his sleep like daze. 

You snort at his words before taking another drag of your cigarette, blowing out a cloud of smoke only to watch it disappear again. 

 “Look who’s talking” you say referring to the cigar that always seemed glued to his hand.

He opens the fridge, seemingly searching for his drink before he takes out a bottle of water. Soon after he makes his way over to the kitchen counter, across from where you’re sitting. The light from outside shines down on him and you can finally see him properly as he leans on the counter and takes a sip of his drink. 

He’s dressed in some gray sweatpants and a matching tank top to go with it. It wasn’t an unusual sight per say. Many times he'd complain about running hot easily so he always dresses lightly when he sleeps.  However that didn’t mean that you were unaffected by it. 

“Seriously they taste like shit and smell bad too”he says before downing the rest of the water. 

“I don’t smoke for the taste”  you say as your eyes wander from his clothes up to his neck, taking notice of the dog tags on him and the way they’re  glistening with the light shining down on them. Your gaze wanders further up, over to where his Adam's Apple lays and how it bobs every time he takes a sip of his drink, until your gaze finally lands on his face. His eyes are half lidded, lips parted and puffy and a flush coats his cheek. It’s clear that he’d just roll out of bed especially with how mussed his hair is. Despite that he looks good, really good actually.

“You should since these will take you out anyway” he says, bottle now discarded on the counter and hands tucked into his pockets. 

“Teach me how to smoke cigars then” You say tossing your cigarette out the window before turning in your seat to face him properly.

Price raised an eyebrow at that.

“What? You can’t sleep, I can’t sleep, might as well do something useful here. Teach me how to smoke cigars”

The older man scratches at his beard in thought before seemingly making a decision.  With a grunt he signs for you to move over and you do as he says. He sits down next to you, one foot propped on the window sill and the other hanging to the side of it.

Price digs his hand into his left pocket,  pulls out a wooden box of something, pops it open before sliding it over to you.

“Take whichever you want, it doesn't matter. You’ll be prepping it anyway”

“Prepping?” You look at him like he’s grown three heads. It's a cigar after all, what is there to prep anyway?

He nudges his head, signaling for you to take one. When you do so, he takes one himself before he closes the box and pockets it again.

“It’s not like a cigarette. You don’t just shove it into your mouth and smoke it. All good things come with preparation and in moderation.” 

“Are we still talking about cigars here “ you grin widely as you wiggle your eyebrows suggestively.

Price grunts at your words but doesn’t do much more as he goes into teacher mode.“First thing first, you want to know what you’re working with. That can break or make the experience”

You nod as you look down at the cigar in your hands. However, figuring out what you’re working with wasn’t as easy as it seemed. You’ve smoked for years but cigars were outside of your expertise. 

Price must’ve seen the stupefied look on your face because he says “Don’t look at it like that, lad. It’s a cigar not a ticking time bomb“

“Sorry” you say, shifting in your seat as your free hand fiddles with some loose lint from the sweats you’re wearing. 

“That’s alright. Let’s start with something familiar, yeah?” he mindlessly strokes his beard, brows furrowed in concentration as he tries to think of how to explain it. 

“You lick your cigarettes right? How come you do that?” You’re momentarily stunned by the fact that he’s picked up on this. But his question hits you next and you can’t help but feel embarrassed when you confess. 

“Force of habit I guess” you shrug, rubbing at your neck as your eyes wander from him to some random spot on the window sill. 

Hey, you’re a smoker not a smoke connoisseur. You don’t know the ins and outs of nicotine. 

He sighs heavily and drags his hand down his chin before he speaks  “That’s alright.” he says before he goes to explain. “ It's a form of prepping, not really necessary for cigarettes but some smokers do it. However prepping is essentials for cigars”

He then goes on to raise his arm in the air, giving you a clear view of the cigar in his hand.

“First thing first you do a pinch test, it’s pretty simple really. You pinch it between your thumb and point finger. Do not roll it however. If it’s dry it’ll cause unnecessary friction which in turn will cause more tears in the leaf”

He starts to demonstrate the step. You try to focus but your eyes can’t help but wander all over his hands. 

Despite the cigar being quite big, it looks something akin to a cigarette in his grip and although he’s got a rather delicate grip on the cigar you know just how rough he can be with his hands. You’ve seen it many times out on the field, and have even imagined what it would be like to be on the receiving end of the treatment. His hands always look so big and strong, dusted in chestnut hair and lined with thick blue veins. You can’t help but think of how pretty they look as he demonstrates the step. 

“You still with me, lad?” 

You lick your lips, mouth feeling dryer than any tobacco leaf. “Yeah “

“Now do so with yours. Remember just add some light pressure, it doesn’t need much more than that” he says, once again demonstrating the step. You start to feel a pressure in your chest as heats floods from your head down to your feet. You try to focus on his words but they only seem to add to the lightheadedness you’re feeling. 

“You listening?” He asks, taking note of your dazed expression.

You only manage a hum in response to his question as you go to follow his instructions. “It shouldn’t crackle since they should be properly humidified anyway but it’s always good to know the basics yeah?” He says when you both notice there’s no crackling to be heard from the cigar in your hands.

“Now we cut it. I keep this baby on me at all times “ Price says before he pulls out a pocket knife. 

“There's all types of fancy shit for cutting but the principle is to cut as little as possible rather than the opposite. You just kind of snip it off” he says as he places the knife at the tip and executes the move perfectly.

“Now you try,” he hands it over to you and you can’t help but feel quite confident in this part. The task didn’t seem complicated anyway. But as you go to cut it, it turns out to be much harder than it seemed.  The cut is nothing like Price’s. If anything it’s jaggedy and has the tobacco leaves crackling at the tip. 

 “That’s alright, you can-“

Before he gets the chance to say anything else, you wrap your lips around the tip, allowing your spit to smoothen out any loose pieces. 

“Oh- “ you look up at Price only to see him swallow hard. 

“That’s a good lad” he says, voice sounding deeper when he speaks “was gonna say to not slobber it down in saliva but you seem to know your thing “

Your face feels hot when you go to respond.“Thanks” 

It’s strange- this relationship you got with your captain. At first sight it might seem that you’re the one throwing flirty remarks around here. And he’s the one who acts unphased, or even annoyed at your flirting attempts. But matter of fact is he’s the one making suggestive remarks whether consciously or subconsciously and you’re the one phased by it. You wish you too could be as unphased as him because his recovering time for these types of situations is remarkable, really. 

His voice is void of any previous emotion when he goes to speak again “Now to the last part, we light it”

And of course you try to keep with him. 

“Never thought we’d get to it” you say, hoping and praying you seem just as unphased as he seems . But you can still feel your face burning and your voice slightly wobbling and the intense look he’s giving you isn’t helping you very much either. 

“Hey you wanted me to teach you” Price reminds you with a pointed look. 

“Go on please” you gesture dramatically before leaning back in your seat.

“The way you choose to light it will affect the taste. It’s all a matter of preference so to say “

“And how do you like yours to taste?” Your words come out more suggestive than intended and you can hear Price sucking in a sharp breath, head tilting and his eyes boring into yours when he says “I prefer to take my time with things, enjoy it thoroughly, make the most out of it if you know what I mean”

The mood feels different; stirring in a direction that has nothing to do with cigars and everything to do with something else, something-

“You’ll achieve that with a soft flame”

And it's quickly broken again. 

Price fishes a box of matches out of his pocket, slides it open and takes a few of them before pocketing it again.

“Always use two matches but don’t be fooled, you can’t hurry the process this is just to ensure the cigar burns even. You with me?”

You nod - maybe a bit too eagerly to show him you’re listening, brows furrowed and lips puckered in concentration and if you’d be focused on someone else you’d see the ghost of a smile on Price’s face. 

“You strike the matches and tilt them downwards, then rotate your cigar around the them “

“Like a marshmallow ”  the words slip mindlessly out of your mouth and his eyes widen in surprise before he laughs. 

You feel the tip of your ears go red but smile at what he says next “Fuckin’ hell, sure like a marshmallow “

Instead of saying something else that would result in making a bigger fool of yourself, you choose to do as he says. 

You take two matches from him and attempt to strike them. 

However it feels like the universe is on a mission to make you seem like the biggest fool because for some reason you can’t light up your match. 

After your third failed attempt paired with some curses under your breath Price decides to offer you some help. 

He leaves his place on the window sill, and leaves his cigar in the ashtray to stand behind you instead. But just as he does it, you manage to light them yourself. However for some reason he chooses not to go back to his seat.

“Like that,” you hear him before you see him, and smell his cologne behind the clouds of smoke. 

You try to keep your focus as you slowly rotate the cigar in your hands

“Good lad you’re doing so good,” the words make you feel like a match ignited, burning from your head down to your toes.  

“Is it done?” You don’t know what you’re asking about- the lessons or the torture he’s unknowingly putting you through.

“Ever heard of the word patience, kid?“ he chides and if it weren’t for your close proximity making you feel all funny you’d say something to him.

“Just one more round of matches and you’re good to go yeah?” His voice is gruff and breathy when he speaks, almost akin to the tone he uses when he gives commands on the field. You feel the wisps of hair from his beard brushing across your ear and the heat from the close proximity of your bodies. You chose to nod in response, opting to bite your tongue in fear of saying something you might regret later on. 

Soon you find yourself with a lit cigar in your hands. 

“There now to the last step” the heat quickly disappears as a gust of cold wind creeps onto your skin and you’re sure it’s not because of the open window but rather from the space between your bodies as he goes back to his own seat.  

“The most important rule of smoking- if you’re to remember anything out of this- is to not inhale it but rather take a light drag. Your body and your lungs will be thankful for sparing them, see it as something you slosh around in your mouth rather than shove down your windpipe”

You raise a brow at his choice of words.

“I am not the best teacher, “ he shrugs before picking up his cigar again.  

He puts it between his lips and takes a light drag of it and you can’t help but think that he looks attractive doing it. 

You never thought smoking was attractive. You smoked to ease your nerves and couldn’t wrap your head around what would be so attractive about a little nicotine stick and the awful smell that came along with it. But looking at him now with his eyelids hanging low, head tilted to the side as he exhales the smoke, you finally understand why people thought so. Especially now, with his Adam’s apple on show, dog tags gleaming behind the clouds of smoke and his toned arms flexing every time he goes to take another drag of the cigar. 

“You do the most work in the beginning until you see white smoke. That’s how you know it’s properly lit and you can actually start to enjoy it“ Price’s voice sounds stern when he speaks; like a knowledgeable teacher sharing information to his interested students. And you sure were interested: in more ways than one. 

“Most work in the beginning huh?” You grin wolfishly at him.

“You pull a lot of jokes, kid “ he chuckles as he continuously spins the cigar in his hand. 

Kid. Your nose scrunches at the word  “Not a kid and who said it’s a joke?” 

He doesn’t say anything. Instead he tilts his head and rubs his beard as if mulling over something before speaking again.

“You try now”

You nod your head as you attempt to focus on the task at hand. But it isn’t easy,  your eyes flicker from his fingers, to his lips, to the way he sits leaned back in his seat with smoke surrounding him.

Before you know it you’re inhaling the cigar, doing the complete opposite of what he told you and within seconds you feel the smoke hitting you all at once; blurring your vision and sending you into a coughing fit.  

“I told you not to inhale it” he tuts as he leans over to take the cigar from your hands before he goes to pat your back “damn shame you seemed so good at following directions, what happened?”

You try to speak but the burning sensation in your throat cuts you off. His hand is once again on your back rubbing up and down aimlessly before he suddenly gets up and you instinctively grab onto him “I’m just going to get something to drink” he says, repeating his words from before and you nod, allowing him to do so. 

“Here” he says a moment later, pressing a cold water bottle against your cheek.

You flinch away from the cold sensation, but grab it anyway, downing more than half the bottle within seconds. 

“Take it easy or you’ll choke again, boy”

Despite the advice you find yourself unable to slow  down and you down the rest like a man parched. 

He chuckles at your actions and grabs hold of your chin, turning your head to face him. 

“That good?” He asks, eyes shining with both hints of worry and amusement.

You nod in response feeling heat creep up your neck and ears. The feeling intensifies when his thumb swipes across your bottom lip, wiping off any remaining liquid before he pops it in his mouth to lick it off of him. 

“I - I can do better” you croak out, still trying to catch your breath.

“What’s that boy?”

You clear your throat and take a deep breath, braving yourself to speak  “I meant what I said I can do it, let me try again”

His gaze shifts between your eyes and your lips, seemingly making a decision when he goes to speak.

“Alright, come here “  he says before he goes back to his seat on the window sill, cigar tucked back between his lips, and with smoke surrounding him. He looks delectable to say the least. 

As if it were a reflex your body complies to his request, shuffling over to sit closer to him. 

You can feel your knees brushing, smell the scent of his cologne mixing with the cloud of smoke, can even see each and every eyelash on his eye along with  the gray hairs sprinkled across his chestnut beard.

You thought you couldn’t get any closer than this but suddenly he leans further in and your eyes go wide as you watch him. His hand goes to your head,  strokes your hair, and brushes back any loose strands or flies aways before it glides across your cheeks, until finally stopping at your lips. 

“Open up, now” he says, one hand under your chin and the other tapping his cigar against your lips.

“Lets try this again, yeah? You did so well, don't want the lesson to go to waste” You hum in response, parting your lips before wrapping them around the cigar. However you don’t take a drag. Instead you await his command. 

“Remember gently, no need to put much effort into it, yeah?” 

You nod as you put all your focus into doing as he says and finally you manage to take a proper drag of it, enough to taste it and enough to blow it out properly as well.

“Good lad. I knew you could do it “  the look of pride on his face along with his words goes straight to your head. Like the cat that got the cream, you think to yourself.

You go to take another drag of it and as you do he places his hand on the small of your back, soothingly rubbing up and down the length of it. You try to focus on the cigar rather than his touch because you fear that in itself will send you into a coughing fit. But it’s hard to stay focused on the cigar when his hand leaves the small of your back and makes its way up to your neck instead. You’re just about to blow out the smoke when his hand wraps around your neck and gently squeezes it.

You part your lips in surprise and as  you do so smoke leaves your mouth, coming out in little circles that quickly dissipate in the air. Your eyes widen at your little trick and he just chuckles at your reaction, before releasing his grip completely and leaning back a bit.

“Little trick I learnt “ he says innocently, shrugging even before he clears his throat, eyes avoidant of your own but manages a thank you when you pass the cigar back to him.

A rather awkward silence falls over you two as you try to process what happened. Price’s hand around your neck- the shy reaction you got from it- the fact that he knew this trick in the first place. It all hangs in the air like clouds of smoke and puts your mind in daze. It’s hard to snap out of it but once you do you wonder if you should say something or move on to the next subject. Looking at him you can clearly see he’s embarrassed about it so you choose to spare him but you also choose to store this moment in your mind for when you’re in desperate need of a replay.  

“Gotta give it to you, you were right about the taste. It’s pretty nice actually” 

He inhales sharply at that, eyes falling to your lips as he goes to speak “Yeah? Why don’t you describe it to me? Last part of the lesson. Need you to name the flavors ” His hand is now at your thigh, fingertips mindlessly tracing circles onto it and you think it isn’t fair of him. He can clearly see the way your body is reacting to him- to his touches- to his words and he still expects you to function.

You must’ve taken too long to respond because Price’s hand squeezes your thigh in warning “Sergeant” 

“Creamy- it tastes creamy sir “ you stumble over your words but still manage to get out a response. 

He hums in response, hand tightening at your thigh before once again squeezing it to get your attention. “Anything else? Any specific flavor you can name. Go on, take another drag of it“ he says before passing the cigar back to you. For once you’re thankful that your body reacts so easily to his commands. Your head’s far too gone at this point to be able to give your body instructions. 

You take another drag of the cigar, allowing the smoke to coat your tongue before exhaling it. There’s a rich sweetness accompanied with a certain bitterness dancing across your taste buds “Coffee tastes like coffee sir- maybe even hits of almond as well?” you say through batted lashes, eagerly awaiting his response.

“Correct. My favorite” he hums in approval.“You’re a quick learner,huh?” The phrase like the cat that got the cream rings through your head again but this time you couldn’t care less. This time you'd gladly accept it.  You’d gladly be the cat and you’d gladly take all the cream especially if it was -

Price grabs you by the collar of your shirt and pulls you close. “You know what else is good to learn? “ 

You gasp at the sudden motion and instinctively grab onto him, one hand at his arm, the other barely holding onto the cigar. His voice is dangerously low and breathy and the way his hot breath washes over your neck raises goosebumps all over your body.

You can even feel the tell tale sign of his thick mustache brush up against your neck as he goes to say “subtlety, my boy”  

There’s little to no space between your bodies. He’s so close to you that you can hear his gruff voice forming the words at the back of his throat, and feel how they vibrate against his chest as he speaks them.  Yet you ache to be closer so you grip tighter onto him and press your body closer to his. 

“You were fidgeting around in your seat and barely paying attention to what I was saying. I almost thought you were getting bored of the lesson but that can’t be right now can it? ” 

It's no longer wisps of mustache hair brushing against your neck but rather a full beard trailing up to the spot behind your ear. And every time he goes to speak, it brushes relentlessly against the skin,  leaving burn marks behind him. 

“No- no sir. I’m very eager to learn” your mind’s starting to feel hazy, your breath’s quickening and you can’t help but tighten your grip on him, nails sinking into supple skin. You hear him wince but can’t bring yourself to care nor to loosen your grip. 

There's a nagging voice at the back of your head telling you this is just a wet dream or even worse a hallucination as you lay bleeding out on a field. So to silence it you tighten your hold on him, hoping and praying you aren’t just imaging him.

However he seems very much real because his arm feels firm and flexes under your tight grip. Every time you go to take a breath you smell the scent of smoke and cologne that seem to follow him and all you can see is his broad back and the small curls at the back of his neck. 

“Mm eager you say '' His accent is much thicker now, desire coating his tongue and slurring his words and his tone is playful like you’ve never heard it be before. All of a sudden you feel his fingers at the back of your head, fingers burrowing into the thick mane of hair before he pulls your head up to face him.

“I expect a response when I speak sergeant “ he says, tugging at your hair in warning.

You whimper at the sting, eyes batting up at him as you go to respond to him “Y- yes sir I’m very eager to learn”

Price looks at you with half lidded eyes and with an arrogant smile across his lips as he goes to cup your cheek.  “I suppose someone so eager wouldn’t have any issues repeating the steps we learned today”

“No sir” you manage to spurt out a response as you lean into his touch. 

“That’s a good boy” he says as his thumb caresses your cheek. “So good for me, yeah?” His voice almost sounds like the one he uses on the field when he goes to praise his team, except this one is just a bit lower, more breathier and wraps around endearments only meant for your ears. 

“How about this,”  he begins to say, hand slipping from your cheek, trailing down to your neck and landing on your shoulder. He takes his time to straighten the collar before he speaks again 

“if you can tell me all the steps we went through today” he trails off once again as both of his hands slide down the length of your arms before finally stopping at your thighs where they rub soothing circles onto them. “I’ll reward you for it “  

“Only if you want to, of course” he says, as he goes to take his hands off your thighs. 

“Oh I want to ” you say hurriedly as you grab onto his hand to keep them in place.” A lot, actually” you add in a shaky tone feeling your face heat up at your own words. 

His eyes flare with desire and he takes a sharp breath before he says  “Sit back for me yeah? One leg on each side of the window, need you to sit comfortably for this okay?” 

You do as he says, one foot on the desert ground and the other one on the wooden floor and you automatically lean back on the window frame to make yourself comfortable.

He on the other hand, has one boot clad foot propped on the window sill and the other one hanging to the side of, leaning back comfortably.

Your hands are trembling in your lap, fingers still gripping onto the cigar and you can see goosebumps rising on your bare skin but it’s not because of the cool metal pressing against it or because of the howling wind. It's rather something else and  Price seems to know the very reason behind it because he says.

“You’re shaking my boy are you nervous about presenting?” He asks in a mocking tone, before he takes the cigar from you  and puts it in between his lips. While you’re trembling in your seat he looks as relaxed as ever, leaned back against the wall, arms crossed and with an expectant smile on his lips.

“No-no sir” you respond as you squirm under his expecting gaze.

“Get on with it then” he says sharply and you spring into action.

“The first thing you do is prepare your cigar. That can make or break the experience… “ you trail off as you scramble your brain for what to say next. But your train of thoughts is quickly cut off by a sudden pressure on your left leg.

Price’s foot gently nudges your thigh and once again, as if it were a reflex, your body responds to him; legs spreading further apart, to make more room for him.

Suddenly, he starts tapping  his foot impatiently, purposely grazing his boot clad foot against sensitive skin as he waits for you to recite the next step. Despite the sweats you’re wearing, you’re so worked up that every touch feels like he’s grazing bare skin. 

“Go on. I didn’t tell you to stop” he warns as he puts a punishing pressure onto your thigh, harsh sole digging into soft skin and you wince at the impact before you speak. 

“To check if your cigar is moist you use your thumb and point fingers and squeeze - squeeze it from top to bottom” the air is punched out of your lungs, your words breaking up as the boot moves from your thigh to instead rest directly atop of your dick. 

You gasp, fingers grabbing onto the edges of the window sill as your hips buck to get more of the feeling “I’m sorry- I’m sorry sir” you say, feeling embarrassed at your body’s reaction. 

However Price doesn’t acknowledge your action nor your words. Instead he decides to raise attention to something else. 

“No underwear ?” He asks, taking notice of the wet patch forming on your gray sweats.  

“No sir I sleep commando”  Price curses under his breath and you feel the pressure increase in between your legs.

 “ Of course you fuckin do” he hisses and presses down even harsher, making you jolt at the movement and you just know that the embarrassingly big patch is growing larger by the minute with the way Price grins down at the spot between your legs. And when you look down at yourself you don’t only see the large wet spot on your sweats but you also see soil covered footprints all over it.  The mess in between your legs shouldn’t turn you on but the sheer sight of it makes you whimper and buck your hips.

“What’s the next step?”

You go to respond but end up choking on your words when you feel the fabric of your sweats slip between your folds and push directly up against your sensitive clit. He even goes to rock his foot side to side, boot continuously assaulting your sensitive numb. 

“What’s gotten your little cock so excited you can’t even speak?”

You whimper at his words, eyes squeezing shut as you lose yourself in the pleasure. “You’re being mean sir”

“Mean?”  he asks, voice dripping in faux concern but never once letting up on his torturous movements. “I’m just trying to reward you here. You want your reward, don’t you?”

You nod frantically as you buck your hips up at him. All of a sudden he ceases any and all movements and you snap your eyes open up to look at him.

He raises a brow at you with a wolfish grin on his lips. You blink up at him for a moment, before it clicks; he wants you to work for it. 

You almost huff at the realization. Nonetheless you adjust in your seat, hands propping behind your back as you bend at your knees before you gently start to rock your hips: his boot once again hitting your sensitive clit. 

“We - we cut it. Not too much though, just the tip” you manage to get out the words before you break off into moans.  You don’t realize how loud you’re being until he shushes you. It’s only then you realize that someone else can see or even worse hear you two. 

“What if- what if someone sees us sir?” You ask but never once letting up on your movements. 

It takes a while for Price to respond, too entranced with the sight in front of him, leaned back in his seat, arms crossed and cigar between his lips. You can barely see his face from the smoke surrounding him but the way his chest is rising and falling at a rapid beat and the way the cigar is shaking in his grip you know he is enjoying your performance. 

Truth be told you don’t even know if he heard you in the first place but when you go speak again he says “No one will see anything I promise” he says in reassurance.”Everyone’s fast asleep and if someone even tries to look or listen I’ll teach them to mind their own fuckin business. “ 

With that you turn your attention back to chasing your high, this time uncaring about who can see or hear as you lose yourself in the pleasure. 

However your attention is brought back to him once again when he says “But maybe you’d like them to?” He says, voice sounding thick and gruff. You snap your head towards him only to see him glowering down at you with desire swirling in his blue irises and a playful smile at his lips.

You know he’s just entering the thought of it, he wouldn’t do anything you weren’t comfortable with. And you can see his gaze switching from your face to your body to gauge your reaction.  And he must see the positive reaction your body gives because he continues “you’d like for them to see how pretty you look all worked up for me? Maybe even jerk themselves off to you? Can't blame them if they did. You look too good like this” you can only moan in response as he continues to talk “maybe you’d even want them to join us. One cock isn’t enough for you. A slut like you needs to get all your holes stuffed to be happy isn’t that right?” 

Your pace increases at his words as you lose yourself to the pleasure. But you’re quickly brought back to the present when he says  “What’s the next step sergeant?“ 

You blink back the haze, as you try to scramble your brain for what to say next.

“Next you light it - you need two”  at this point you’re just spurting out nonesene, too busy chasing your pleasure. 

Although his boot does hit your clit, many times - due to your fast paced beat- it’ll miss, aim too clumsy and messy to reach it. It doesn’t take long for you to make the decision to latch one hand onto his leg, the other making sure to support your weight as you adjust his foot so that the tip of his boot hits your clit every time you rock against it. 

You know you’re putting on a show for anyone who might hear or see; legs spread wide apart, arousal and mud covering your sweats as you desperately cling onto Price’s leg and moaning desperately. However you can’t find it in yourself to care,  can’t  focus on anything other than the pleasure coiling between your legs.

You look up at Price through half lidded eyes and mouth agape only to see a similar expression on his face. 

“Jesus, look at you grinding on me like a bitch in heat, you enjoying this hm?”

“Yes yes sir, enjoy it so much” At this point you're slurring your words, mouth agape and eyes squeezed shut as you focus on nothing else but the heat growing in your core.

 Your heels dig further into the floor, knees cramping from the awkward position and arms aching from supporting your weight for so long. But you refuse to let up on your pace. You’re so close to the finish line you can almost taste it.

“Almost there” you warn him before your mind’s too far gone to say something.

“Then you better explain the last step or there will be none of it, sergeant “ he says as he squeezes your thigh in warning. 

“Yes sir” you groan out before you will yourself to speak again “you puff it - you do the most work in the beginning until-“ you don’t get to finish your sentence before you’re cut off by your own moan.

 “until what sergeant?” Is the last thing you hear before you lose focus of your surroundings, eyes squeezed shut and mouth agape as you chase your high on Price’s boot.

“Until - until - it starts working by-. “ is all you manage to get out before you’re cumming- stumbling over the finish line with your back arched and with a cry of victory.

You don’t even get to warn him before you’re falling back in your seat, arms giving out and legs losing their footing.  As you do so the boot accidentally rubs against your clit and for the first time since you ended up in this situation you jerk back from the friction, dick too sensitive. 

You end up leaning against your elbow, window frame uncomfortably pressed against your spine and Price’s hands on your thighs keeping you from falling straight to the ground.

“You alright?” Price asks after a moment of silence  and you feel his hand on your thigh again, rubbing soothing circles on them.

You hum in response, still lost in bliss and he chuckles as he gives you a moment to come down from it.  

Once you do, you flutter your eyes open and smile lazily at him. 

 “Good job my boy, you did so well”

“Thank you, sir” your face burns as you respond. him and the phrase like the cat that got the cream rings through your head once again. 

Suddenly you see Price’s brows furrow, tongue poking past his lips as he looks down at his feet. 

“Looks like you left a stain there” he says as nonchalantly as possible and points to his soiled boot “could you clean it up for me please?”

Your eyes flash in surprise and for a moment the words hang in the air.  

But as quickly as they came, the words  dissipate leaving a haze behind that seems to take over your brain.

“Of - of course, sir “ you say as you scurry out of your seat but before you can get any further he stops you with his foot, firmly pressing it against your chest “with your tongue sergeant “

You suck in a breath and you can feel your dick twitch in your soiled sweats. 

“Yes sir” 

You lean in so that you’re face to face with the boot he’s wearing. It’s a simple black boot, worn out  from everything it’s been through but there’s one spot on top of it that shines like it’s been newly polished.  It’s the very same spot you zoom in on, tongue poking past your lips as you trace a path from the very bottom up to the top of it.

You feel the soft leather scrape against your tongue as the familiar taste dances across your tastebuds. And every time you go to lick the boot your nose brushes against the leather and you smell yourself on it.  Despite the work you put into cleaning it you know you’ve ruined the spot with your arousal and instead of feeling bad about it you can’t help but moan at the fact that he can’t hide the evidence of the event that had transpired. You give it one last lick before you kiss the boot and smile at him.

He curses under his breath, a mix of swear words accompanied with your name leaving his lips and your grin widens as you sit up again. 

“Enjoy  the rest of your night, kid” he says all of sudden, patting your thigh lightly before jumping to his feet. “When you’re ready to put out the cigar, just let it rest on the ashtray, it’ll put itself out that way” he says as he shows how to do it with his very own cigar before making his way over to the door.

Within seconds you’re up on your feet, moving on wobbly legs you almost fall back on the window sill. 

“Hey, where are you going?” 

“Lesson’s over” he says  simply before looking down at the watch on his wrist “and I’m old and need my rest. “ He looks away from his watch to the mess between your legs. 

“Besides, you need to get cleaned up. See you tomorrow, kid” he says with a wink as he leaves. 

“See you tomorrow” you say into the now empty room, chuckling in disbelief as you plop yourself back down on the window sill. You’re a sticky mess and should probably go shower but instead you take a drag of your cigar before you say “This man’s truly something else”

[piratefishmama]

Crossing the Line | Part 5

The odds of finding one feral little metalhead in such a large city without any starting point to go off of were slim at best. Okay that was being generous, the odds were basically non-existent as Steve had been telling Robin for the past hour as they wandered the streets seemingly without aim.

“Rob, we should just buy the tickets and see his band! What’s the worst that can happen?”

“We lose our hearing to people who can’t play their instruments properly, you get rejected publicly, someone throws up on us, we wind up in the mosh pit and you get your THIRD concussion, someone spills their drink on me, or on you, you get recognised and publicly ridiculed for wearing a goddamn sweater vest to a metal gig because I saw you pack your bag what in god’s name, Steven.”

“It’s comfortable.” Steve grumbled in response, momentarily subdued by all of her good points “at least it’s monotonal.” It was a grey knit number, one of his softest. “And I was gonna put a black shirt under it.”

“Yep, no, we’re not doing that, you’re not wearing that. If we must go to the gig and I do mean if we must, you’re going to need another outfit, so we’re going to spend today shopping for that, then head back to the apartment and strategize. We can divide and conquer, you take one half of the city, I’ll take the other, we meet in the middle for coffee.”

“…One half of a city. Where even is the middle of it? How is that a plan?”

“Not the best first plan but it’s the planning stage of the plan, and the planning stage is AFTER shopping, so don’t judge the plan until the planning stage of the plan.”

“You said plan a lot.”

“Less talk more thrift shop, let’s go.” His hand grabbed and away they went. It didn’t matter how rich he was, Robin loved thrift shopping, and after meeting her and knocking down her walls of distrust and uncertainty until they became practically joined at the hip platonic soulmates, finding out how many little treasures you could actually find in those shops, he kind of loved it too. It was an experience he wouldn’t have ever gotten without her, an experience that only added to the down to earth personality that’d developed as he grew older with her.

He didn’t know who he’d be without Robin… probably the same douchebag everyone kind of expected him to be. The douchebag he’d been in his teen years perhaps, partying, drinking, doing drugs, trying to be something he wasn’t to impress the people around him when all they cared about was the vestiges of fame trickling from his being.

Perhaps she’d saved his life by just being there. So he’d indulge a little tomfoolery for her sake.

Even if it did wind up with his feet hurting and his arms aching carrying bags of things he’d never ever wear but might have to for true love, trudging down some random street while Robin looked for some weird non-chain coffee shop because Starbucks held no soul.

“Robin can we just— look, right there, Starbucks, we can go in Starbucks, it’ll be fine, in and out!”

“I’m not going in Starfucks, there’s always some idiot instagraming the weird spelling of their name on the cup as if it’s not a Starbucks ploy to get them free advertising.”

“Or someone claiming to be Voldemort as if the barista would actually shout “he who must not be named” for the brief moment of twitter fame reporting it would bring them.”

“Or tacky mass-produced merch.”

“Or overpriced desserts that aren’t worth it.”

“Or—Ooh!! Lookie, there’s one!” They probably could have gone on for longer, but Robin spotted the little brown shop with large dark windows at the end of the street with a hanging sign outside similar to one found on old bars only this one had two coffee beans on it with the word The Roast written in cursive around the beans. And up close it looked like every rustic coffee shop ever made.

Simple, lots of browns and warm white lighting.

“Down the road from a Starbucks? That’s a gutsy business move.” Steve hummed with the most basic amount of interest as he entered through the door Robin held open for him.

“Honestly you’re never more than a stones throw away from a Starbucks, pick any direction I bet we’ll find another within two blocks.”

“That’s fair.” They made it all the way to the counter where a lone, bored employee leaned heavily against the thick wooden countertop, flicking through a magazine of some kind, the board above him strewn with funnily named coffee drinks and little doodles to match them, Steve found his eyes drawn to that while the Barista released a deep

“Welcome to The Roast, what can I get for you?” Without looking up from his magazine.

“Alright, I’ll have a uhm—ow—Robin, what—ow would you stop elbowing me?”

“Steve.”

“What?” He followed her pointer finger to the man now looking at him with the widest, brownest, most beautiful Bambi eyes he’d ever seen in his goddamn life and all thoughts just kind of drifted away, replaced with the single word… pretty. “Oh…Hello...”

Part 7

[viennacherries]

Oh oh, I have- well, not really a request, more so a prompt if it strikes any inspiration! No pressure!

I'm a sucker for wizards, so it should come as no surprise that I adore Rolan and Gale. My first Tav was also a wizard, big surprise. I love the scene in the game where Gale teaches you magic and if you're a wizard you can basically be a show off. But- imagine Rolan being ever so kind and offering to give you a quick lesson. The catch is, he doesn't know you're a wizard for some reason... so he's really showing off and making a big deal about the movements and pronunciation for the spell, and at first you're playing dumb. "Oh, like this?" *does everything wrong*.

Rolan walks you through the steps again, and this time you are like "oh, I see! Like this?" and proceed to do the spell perfectly AND with a little bit of flare. Rolan wants to curse because how the hell did you catch on so quick!!! Whether or not you reveal you're a wizard, I'll leave up to your imagination. 😂

I just finished Kiss The Cook and oh my lord I was GIDDY upon realizing Rolan was gonna propose. I yelled so loudly. 10/10. I loved it.

sorry for taking a while with this one! wanted to wait until i was properly inspired so i could do it justice cos i think it's so funny and cute. so much room for shenanigans.

i might continue this one and turn it into something multi-chaptered if people like it? maybe some freaking wizard on wizard smut later on? 👀

for now tho it's just cute and wholesome, i had a lot of fun with this. enjoy!!

SFW

read it on ao3 here

~~~

"Like this?"

Bless him. Rolan is trying to be patient but you can see the mounting frustration on his face every time you mess up a movement.

"Not quite. That one was close, though. It's more like this."

He turns to face you, brings his hands up and around in elegant, practiced arcs before clasping them together and forcing them outwards towards you. A brilliant burst of purple light flows forward, soft around the edges and pulsating with weave. You can feel it emanate from it, calling to you.

You're not quite sure how Rolan managed to never learn that you're a wizard, though you suppose the only times he really saw you fight were when you were defending him in the shadow-cursed lands and when you defeated Lorroakan. Admittedly, he had other things on his mind. He probably just wasn't paying attention.

Regardless, now you're standing in a large open room underneath the Sundries, where Rolan is insisting on teaching you magic. You're not blind; you know he's doing it because he has feelings for you. You would have put him out of his misery and told him you have feelings for him too, but it's rather cute when he tries to impress you.

Like now, for instance.

Every demonstration is slightly exaggerated. His posture is tighter and more disciplined than is strictly necessary, and with every somatic shape he creates he adds enticing flourishes, his fingers curling and pointing invitingly. He's putting on a lovely show for you.

Which is why you'd decided to just... Go along with it.

Is it very polite? Absolutely not. Is he going to be incredibly embarrassed when he realises the truth? Absolutely. But how are you supposed to resist when he looks so delicious like this? His tongue flicks out to brush over his lips to wet them every time he utters the incantation in demonstration, and a few stray strands of hair twist and curl in the air from the weight of the weave in the atmosphere. He looks regal, practicing his craft. Your shared craft.

You swore off dating other wizards when you were at university. Men were insufferable at the best of times, let alone wizard men who thought they were Mystra's gift to spellcraft. You'd made a promise to yourself, after one unsuccessful date of many, with a man who started trying to explain how cantrips worked to you, that you would only date non magic-users.

Gale had been quite disappointed to find that out, bless his heart.

But Rolan. There's just something about him, which is weird.

It's mostly weird because when you met him you absolutely despised him. He demonstrated all of the worst qualities you'd come to expect from your peers during your education; arrogance, self-importance, pride, vanity, etcetera, etcetera. You distinctly remember sharing a look with Karlach as you walked away from him and his siblings, both of you pulling a face of utter disdain.

He'd changed though, over the course of the journey. After his siblings being kidnapped, his apprenticeship souring, he'd become incredibly grounded. Besides, his arrogance actually wasn't completely misplaced. He's incredibly gifted with his manipulation of the weave. Not that you'd ever tell him that.

In the aftermath of the Absolute's invasion you've spent a lot of time with him, and you've decided he looks rather beautiful when he casts. His brow furrows in concentration and his eyes gleam with a determination that's easy to get caught up in.

And his hands. You stare at his hands a lot.

"Do you want to try again, or are you just planning on standing there all day?"

His words bring you back to the present. Ah, yes. Magic lesson.

It's probably time to end the charade, really. You definitely can't keep this up forever. It's actually rather difficult to keep doing spells wrong when you've been trained so thoroughly on how to do them right.

By the Gods, though, you're going to have some fun with it. You took a couple of acting classes in your second year, at a local bard college, so you're determined to sell it.

You make a big show of taking a deep breath in, shaking your hands out as if you're trying to dispel nervous energy. Rolling your neck around it makes a large crack, and you lace your fingers together and stretch your arms out in front of you to crunch your knuckles. He watches you eagerly, ready to appraise your efforts, and you can't help the upward tick at the corner of your mouth.

The movements are second nature, really. You twirl your hands into elegant shapes as you raise your arms, and twist them around you in a circular motion; a grand emulation of Rolan's earlier demonstration. As you surge your hands forwards, a bright burst of light surges forwards, bathing the pair of you in a velour glow.

Rolan's face is absolutely priceless. You have to physically swallow down the laugh that threatens to bubble up within you.

"... Like that?" The mirth in your voice, however, is more difficult to disguise.

Rolan just stands, staring at you. His mouth is agape, and he's gradually turning a rather beckoning shade of crimson. The laugh you've been holding back bubbles out of you, and you fold over yourself and brace your hands on your knees as you cackle.

"I... You..." His difficulty forming his words only makes it more entertaining, and you clutch at your stomach as the hilarity of the situation rolls over you. You manage to steel your breathing and calm your laughter, and glance back up at him, but he's still got that incredulous look on his face with his mouth hung open, and it sends you back into hysterics.

"You... You're a wizard?! Why did... Why didn't you..." He trips over every half-thought word, trying to come to terms with the fact that he's been completely blindsided and utterly bamboozled. You calm your laughter and straighten up, a light chuckle spilling from you.

"Yes, Rolan, I'm a wizard. I'm sorry for teasing, I just couldn't resist."

His face is so red he could be mistaken for a gith's dragon.

"I don't... How did I not..." He evidently is still struggling with stringing coherent thoughts together, but you know what he's trying to say. You shrug in response, a smile plastered on your face.

"I don't know, to be honest. I killed at least two of the shadow-creatures that were after you with Magic Missile, and I don't think I could survive without Mage Hands. I'm too short to reach any of the shelves in the library."

"Well." He huffs. "... I could get you a step-stool, if you like."

You can't help throwing your head back at that and laughing openly, "it's fine, really. I manage just fine."

"Why didn't you tell me? I've been stood here like an imbicile, making a big glim show trying to-" He cuts himself off, and the flush that had just began to subside comes back in full force. "I mean- I was-"

"Trying to impress me?" You can't be blamed for teasing him more, surely? When he looks so utterly delectable with that blush over his cheeks? "Don't worry, sweetheart," you drawl out the syllables of the pet name and throw him a wink, "consider me impressed."

As you turn to leave you hear the way his breath catches as he breaths in, and he chokes and splutters on the air. You barely contain your laugh as you begin ascending the stairs back to the main hallway.

Rolan stands behind you, staring at your back as you depart; face burning and tail flicking in wild arcs behind him.

[archivalofsins]

So, I'm filling out my mail in ballot and like... Lately I've been getting hit with the cultural differences between myself and others.

So, I'd like to talk about how that may impact how I view Milgram.

It's no secret that I'm African American. Yet, there's a great deal of people that will have assumptions on what that means, how it looks, what I must be into outside of Milgram etc. These things as we've come to know quite well through Milgram, are biases.

As we've discussed before biases aren't inherently bad. Biases in and off themselves are ideas we pick up about society based on our personal experiences. They're like a quick cheat sheet that no one can help but make in their head.

For example- Since I said I was African American. One could assume things about my,

Skin tone

Education

Social Status

Simply based on that knowledge alone. One could assume that I'm dark skinned. An assumption that a good deal of people make when that term is used despite the various skin tones throughout the African American community.

If I were to then respond to that assumption with,

"Actually I'm light skinned." (This is a fact and a example.)

Another assumption would come into play.

"Oh what are you mixed with?"

This would lead to two answers. Nothing, literally everyone in my family is black. Or, "Wow; can you take an educated guess? I did just say I'm African American is there any historical context you could possibly gleam without asking me why my skin tone is what it is. Anything, is there anything coming to mind that may explain? Might rhyme with armory. Might involve a word that sounds like shave?"

Nope damn...the answers still nothing just African American or well if we discuss the history of slavery real quick we get this very complicated non-answer of too many things to count. Including white and Native American. Yet if you ask my dad what they put on his papers when he fought in the war they put negro. Because those other two things matter relatively less than the whole black thing.

So, most of my family history is black and I was raised in the black community. Didn't really stop me from getting that question a lot growing up. Mostly from people within said community. These are the sort of biases I believe are pretty common in most cultures. People will judge others based on how they look and assume things about their background.

This is highlighted in Milgram through Mu. It's brought up multiple times that Mu has been othered because of how she looks. Because she does not look typically Japanese, she looks foreign. She has honey-blonde hair and light grey eyes.

She mentions in a minigram that she doesn't like how rain makes her hair stick up.

People headcanoning Mu's victim as half black when France has the highest black population out of Europe wild.

X X

Hmmm, wonder why that headcanon hasn't been put on her ahn who knows.

Basically, noting that humidity and water makes her hair frizzy. Probably playing a bit into the reason she doesn't portray herself as being soaked in After Pain. Because she finds this aspect of herself to be embarrassing.

This also could subtly imply that she may straighten or style her hair. Outside of that Milgram highlights how different she looks before the series even starts properly. Noting it in her character description on the website.

A beautiful prisoner with overt features that set her apart from other Japanese people. Despite her slender frame, she’s very candid, and the type to rebel against the abnormal circumstances Milgram has presented her. Due to her nature, she will be very wary of Es at first. The way she conducts herself gives a sense of her upbringing. Leading us to speculate that she was probably born into a wealthy family. Perhaps, being born into wealth is why she has such a sense of pride, bursts into tears when clashing with others, and is prone to whining.

My sorry spells must be wearing off./I am always the drama queen.

x

Why won’t you stop hurting me? My heart is all dried up. My sorry spells must be wearing off. But I guess some of it is my fault./ It’s not my fault. I told you I’m queen, and it will never be changed. I’ve got EVERYTHING, everything is as I wish.

And even having it called to attention in the portal timeline.

20/05/31 Mu: Hey, Mikoto-kun, aren’t you scared of this place……? You can’t think of any reason you ended up here, right……? Mikoto: Ahh, yeah. Of course, it’s not like I’m not scared at all. But just between you and me…… I still haven’t dropped the thought that this could all just be a TV show. I mean, I really haven’t ever murdered anyone. ……and if that is the case, we’re definitely being monitored. For like a prank setup or something. Wouldn’t it be super uncool and embarrassing to get angry or lash and have it shown on prime time? Mu: Is that what you think……? A prank, huh…… I hope that’s all it is…… Mikoto: Ah! If that is the case, then you’ll probably be super popular since you’re so cute, Mucchan! There’s a lot of girls out there who make their big break coming off reality shows like that!

Like the fact that Milgram lays all of this out from the beginning along with the way it follows through on it is really good. Because it isn't just building as it goes or adding pockets of tidbits of character information on as the trials progress. It's all been there and still is there rewarding people for going back and looking, if they feel like it.

Through bringing to the forefront how different Mu is from those around her Milgram subtly highlights another form of discrimination in Japan. Racism.

Then it does this really interesting thing when it comes to her core friend group in particular.

Milgram makes a point of having all of Mu's close friends be individuals who for one reason or another would not be considered to look stereotypically Japanese. Milgram manages to do this without even giving Mu's friends faces.

Even highlighting in their insect forms through giving them different hair colors from the rest.

Just like Mu herself.

Q.11 Who do you want to see right now? Mu: I miss my friends too but most of all, Papa and Mama.

In her second voice drama Mu says,

...Warden-san. I think you're really doing something bad. Isn't it a bad thing to act like there has to be something wrong with someone for them to get bullied? Oh? No matter the circumstances, it's always the bullies who are in the wrong! Isn't that obvious? Warden-san you're so smart but you didn't even know something like that? maybe you should take some lessons on morals or something. ... Besides even if I've done something wrong, there's nothing that can justify bullying. Warden-san I thought you were nicer than this.

Not one thing that can justify it not even others doing something wrong. Meanwhile Mu's first trial character voice line,

It's your fault....for doing horrible things to me...

Mu goes on to say this in response to Es asking why does she think she was bullied after that,

"How would I know? I mean I'm from a rich family, and I'm an eye-catcher too... It was probably out of some kind of envy or prejudice, right?"

Plus, Mu's stance on bullying quickly changes when it's brought to her attention that Es believes she may have been a bully before she bullied. As she states,

"Leaving behind all that stuff you said about me possibly having been a bully myself- not that any of that's true of course!"

Sorry it was an easy shot.

Can you believe she said this right before this mv came out? Wild. Prisoners stay lying in their voice dramas. Never incriminate yourselves, always lie to authority figures. Double down on the lies if you need to. No one owes honesty to individuals or systems putting them in terrible predicaments.

Lie like you and honesty had a falling out. Lie like being honest betrayed you worse than it did Kazui. Keep lying. Honesty sorry that's a luxury I can't afford right now. I'm in my lying arc trust me at your own expense.

Be Mikoto trial two and gaslight the audience into believing that everything Milgram uncovered was actually a dream trial three. It will work better than you think Mu.

Like naw be more dishonest actually. The realest thing all the prisoners have ever done was just blatantly lie and not back down from said lies. They're all like fucking prove it go on prove it! What do you have mystical songs where I go I did that shit and I'll do it again?! That's not substantial enough evidence.

That could have been an over-exaggeration done to better highlight my artistic vision- Fuck you and your song extractor bring in some actual proof or piss off. This machine was provided by your facility how do you know it's providing accurate unbiased information. The facility had already deemed us guilty of something on incarceration this isn't fair or trustworthy.

Meanwhile if they're innocent what a great and interesting machine you have here.

Sure. So, if I'd gotten payback for how my bullies treated me then that'd count as revenge right? And if you believe that was my only option then don't you have to forgive me? ...Uh...I'm not really sure what you're trying to say? You see~ If you think that me bullying someone back after being bullied is the natural course of action, then wouldn't it be bad to bully me back in return? ... "But if you were like. "I won't forgive you Mu revenge is bad!" Then wouldn't that imply that it's also bad for me to bully someone back after they bullied me?" I think I'm kinda...starting to get your point...maybe. Warden-san are you maybe not all that smart after all?

Since the way Mu talks is rather quick and confusing purposely Es has difficulties understanding what she's saying. Despite the fact that she is just reiterating that since she's already been forgiven it would be best if Es kept to that verdict. Because Es has already set the precedent that killing out of revenge or in response to a slight is forgivable. Changing her verdict now won't change that precedent.

Meaning Mu has every intention to bully someone for bullying her again if necessary because Es has stated that the appropriate response to being picked on is picking on that person back. In a way Mu is saying that's what trial one cemented that treating people who have caused direct harm to your or others is completely okay actually.

So, it's best not to start problems for others others at all. So, if Es wants to change their verdict and pick on Mu now that would be no different than what happened to her.

This isn't even a veiled threat. Because she's just saying since you've realized that bullying is the appropriate response to bullying then you shouldn't pick on me because the obvious response would be me picking on you and you don't want that right? Or,

"If you want to betray from jealousy. I’ve told you what’s gonna happen."

The thing is the way I view Mu's story is subjectively changed based on my experiences as and African-American.

When I view her story I don't see the simple one of bullying. I see a story about prejudice and the othering of mixed and biracial individuals in Japan. How the mistreatment these individuals face when younger can lead to them bullying others later in life.

The fact that kids like that are often exposed to discriminatory treatment from a young age by peers and adults due to their overt physical differences. Something that can lead to a great deal of bitterness and self-loathing. Even internalized othering.

Q.08 Which of the other prisoners is most like you? Mu: I don’t think there’s anyone? They’re all weirdos.

This can be done to make oneself feel less than others or to cope and convince oneself that they are more special than those around them and everyone is just jealous actually. Mu falls into the later category. However, the later category is commonly used in response to discrimination of some sort.

Because it's easier and healthier to respond to others making fun of ones immutable traits such as physical characteristics by going they're just jealous. The other option is attempting to changing how you look entirely which for a lot of people won't work anyway. From that angle it's no suprise that in high school Mu would start doing something that may just have been done to her for much longer by girls who probably resembled those who picked on her a great deal or were people who used to pick on her.

Q.02   What scares you most? Mu: Painful things, scary things. Also embarrassing things. Q.07 What is your favourite place? Mu: Mama’s hometown of Nice. The sea there is beautiful.

As someone who grew up in the states a pretty diverse country. Well Mu saying things like her favorite place is her mothers hometown has a different ring to it. Because in Nice the way Mu looks wouldn't be considered odd or draw attention. Whereas in the place she grew up she can easily tell that the way she looks gets her both positive and negative attention.

I've said this before and I'll say it again the fact that Mu stands out due to her mixed ethnicity is just as a part of her story as being a bully is. The fact that she surrounds herself with people who are similar to her (seemingly mixed as well).

Well it really puts this spin on her story. Not just making it as simple as bullying it but turning it into this story of long term accepted bullying and what that cycle can lead to. If Mu was bullied and treated as different because of her looks and families wealth at a young age. Then she gets into this high school with other people with those experiences. It wouldn't be farfetched for her to want to use the opportunity to get revenge on the people who treated her poorly before and take advantage of the system that allowed it.

In order to lessen the impact of the idea of her being a bully which she denies as ever being true she states it would be fine for her to be one under Milgram's logic if it was in response to being bullied in the first place. That it's fine as long as it's revenge. A mindset many victims of bullying who become bullies later have. That it's fine to do because no one said it was wrong when it was happening to them. It's okay if they do it because if they do then it can't happen to them.

This especially puts an interesting spin on her first cover song and trial song.

Especially these lines,

Otome Dissection

There's been a lot of analysis of this song for a long while. For now, I want to analyze it from the angle of the singer dissecting themselves. An angle that the song has been taken from before. Given the visuals in the mv near the end.

The more overt ones.

Along with when the signer is shown pretending to call someone and closing their own body bag.

All after the line "Let's see if our climax had been a let down. Ever since that night."

Now if we phrase Otome Dissection as the singer singing to themselves that would make it more interesting in the context of Mu's case and the way it can relate to ethnicity. Because I think Otome Disssection manages to perfectly encapsulate the feeling of self-loathing, dejection, and hopelessness that being a minority can make a person.

The song highlighting how the singer has found something that makes them feel good as long as it hurts. Something that's validating and invalidating all at once. A way a lot of people feel about exploring or expressing their culture/ethnicity in a place where it's marginalized or stereotyped in some way. The feeling can be just as isolating as it is liberating simply because at times even when people want to do this there's not much community around them locally.

Plus, taking an interest in it won't make discrimination stop. At the end of the day people are still going to put you on a pedestal or hate you because of how you look. Though it can still be fulfilling. Also highlighting how one will dissect themselves, cutting themselves down to be more acceptable in an environment that didn't want to accept them to begin with. Again, going back to how it only feels good when it hurts.

They only get acceptances when they're burying parts of themselves. Yet, still desiring to be loved for everything they are the good and the bad and trying to convince themselves that they love who they are despite everything around them making it feel as though it'd be better,

If I had just disappeared.

All that self-loathing and disdain turns into boisterous self-confidence. Because it's feels like the only way that person can survive. Yet they still need this constant outwards validation because they don't know if they're allowed to be here. Even though they feel like they should be it doesn't feel like they are.

I want to feel “alive”, is it ok if I breathe? Tell me./I wanna feel shame, ever since the night when I realized it's good as long as it hurts.

Yet no amount of validation is enough because the person can't validate themselves. They're always going to be afraid of being found out then hated or the other person finding someone else.

Hey, what if If I am a bad girl- Don’t hate me./I actually had a dream you fell in love with someone else. Please tell me it's not true. Come on love me please?

A problem many people who have faced racial discrimination in their environments have is believing that others can like them. Because sometimes from birth all those people are given are reasons why others wouldn't. A list of things that make them odd or different from their peers. So, it's easy to understand why it would be difficult to believe.

After Pain

"I don’t want tomorrow to come. I want to forget yesterday I was miserable, someone please help me."

"If it’s endurance, I’m used to it. It’s just having another taste of it."

When it comes to Futa we see him become the victim of what he dished out after in Bring It On. Lamenting if both sides are losers in Backdraft. Yet, Mu tries her best to hide all the things that hurt and embarrass her. The source of her pain.

Because she doesn't want people to look at it. She doesn't want to replay it. Just like her second cover song further highlights along with her second trial mv.

She even states in the second written interrogation,

Q.01 What were you like as a child? Mu: I think I was pretty normal. I had a lot of friends, and learned a lot.

Yet she also states that she gets walked up to by modelling scouts on the streets because of her looks.

Q.15 What’s your dream for the future? Mu: A model, maybe. I’ve been turning down scouts while I’m still in high school though.

Definitely sounds easy to have a normal childhood with stuff like that occurring.

It's easy to write off Mu as not going through that much and just being a spoiled brat and a bully. However, I feel like that would be ignoring some very compelling parts of her character. Plus, she's not the only prisoners for Milgram to allude to dealing with forms of discrimination.

Plus, it is kind of strange that she would jump from having her friends bully people for her to murder. Like that isn't a very natural progression. Now she could be lying about not doing any of that stuff herself like dumping water on people or beating them up. However the only time we see her actually harassing a student is when they appear to be shaking them down and none of that stuff is occurring.

Then she's only alluded to being around in After Pain after her friends do that stuff. So, I genuinely doubt she was being dishonest about that. None of these feelings on Mu I stated here are new. I always appreciated how her story subtly deals with the ethnicity. I like how it shows a victim of bullying become a bully.

I like that it highlights how cycles of harassment begin. I love how Mu's first inclination is to frame herself as a victim of bullying in this situation because on some level she really thinks this is revenge for all the mean things others may have done to her. I also like that she's unapologetic about it. Plus my own complicated relationship with stuff like that makes me sympathetic to her a bit.

Even still it's Mu we're talking about she's not one to be knocked down and stay down. That's simply just another aspect to look at her under and it's one of the ones I find the most interesting given how I grew up.

I feel like that may just be one of the many things that may go overlooked based on how one grew up. Even though Milgram highlights it in a lot of ways.

Another one that may go over some's head is poverty in general given the cases of Amane and Mikoto. Like people not really understanding why he's so focused on his job or why Amane's family lives where they live etc. It's just interesting how Milgram tries to represent varying demographics. Like there's a plethora of other examples but I've gone over them before.

At least I find it interesting.

[biowhore]

WIP Wednesday!

I didn't finish this over my vacation like I wanted to, but we are on the precipice of smut!

Kalliope has some german here, explained later. Just a nevarran headcannon I have. (also I'm so sorry for the weird POV switching, it's a bad habit)

---

Kalliope’s hand felt like an anchor on his chest, tethering him to himself, and Spite faded into the background. Their faces were close – he could count the chips of iron in their amber irises, see the way their eyelashes curled just at the tips. His eyes wandered down to their mouth, thin pink lips open slightly in an awed smile.  

Kalliope leaned into him instinctively, not really thinking about the movement. Not thinking of anything at all really. Just letting their body seek his, as it always seemed to.  

And this time Lucanis did not move away. They hovered together, lips brushing in feather-light touches, hesitating on the precipice. Kalliope would not push him, he had to meet them this time, had to make the leap. They felt a hand on their hip and another close around their hand on his chest, and suddenly a kiss.  

A kiss that was so soft. It broke their heart, that kiss. He kissed like he wasn’t sure it was really happening. But the want was there, in the way he moved his bottom lip against theirs as he pulled way slightly. They needed him to know how real this was, how wanted he was, how deserving. That Kalliope really truly wanted this too. 

Their hands threaded into his hair and pulled him back into the kiss, tugging his hair to tilt his head, opening his mouth for them to lick into. A little grunt sounded from his chest in surprise, but he did not resist. They teased him with their tongue, breathing him in, gripping the hair at his nape. Distantly, they thought, Of course he tastes like bitter coffee, for which they internally laughed at themself. He’d probably been drinking it non-stop since he got back to the Lighthouse. 

His hand on their hip tightened and Kalliope’s body did as it was bid – they climbed properly onto his lap, settling their hips over his. In that moment they truly realized what was happening. A shiver ran up their spine as they pulled back from his lips, both of them taking gulps of air. Lucanis’s other hand had, at some point, made its way to the back of their neck.  

They both stared dumbly at each other, breathing each other’s air, bumping their noses together. Kalliope’s heart was at a gallop and damn near bursting with the anticipation of what Lucanis might say. They couldn’t tell if they dreaded it or yearned for it.  

However, the spell was broken when Lucanis murmured, “You’re very red.” 

Kalliope’s forehead knocked into Lucanis's nose as they laughed. Their sides ached with the effort to compose themself, taking in air only to sputter it out again in more laughter. 

“Well, I'm really nervous,” they said finally, smiling so big their cheeks hurt, their fingertips raking through his beard. 

“If this is you nervous, I'm afraid of what true confidence looks like on you.” 

“Pfft…” their smile softened and waned as they both resumed their staring. Lucanis’s dark eyes flicked back and forth between Kalliope’s. They felt his intake of breath, readying himself to say something, but Kalliope’s nerves got the better of them. 

“Do you-" they blurted and cut themself off, biting their lip. Maker knew Kalliope wanted this, but so much – too much - was running through their head. 

Lucanis watched them struggle. Despite the whiplash of their sudden nervousness, it endeared them to him, a warmth deeper than their hand on his chest sparking like a sleeping coal in a gentle breath of air. He could still feel spite lurking but seeing Kalliope like this, so shamelessly vulnerable, emboldened him. His hand at the back of their neck tightened and pulled them back to his mouth. Their taste, their smell would haunt his sleepless nights. But now he would indulge while Kalliope held his demons at bay. Maker knew he couldn’t do it himself. 

Kissing them was homesickness. He felt that sleepy coal in his chest drop down to his core, bringing such sorrow and joy tangled together it made him ache. Sorrow for waiting so long, joy for finally taking something soft for himself. Sorrow for all the longing of his life, and joy for Kalliope reminding him of the good in it. He kissed them, and it was like finding his way through the dark, not knowing what was in front of him but trusting the momentum to bring him home. 

His hands found their face, their roughness feeling misplaced on their skin. He drank of their light, wondering if it would drown his darkness. But Kalliope was as much dark as they were light.  

They gasped into his mouth, their hips settling further into his. Their fingers released his hair to fumble at the buttons of his collar, stopping to remove the chain and pins then plucking at the buttons. Kalliope managed a third of them before snaking a hand beneath to touch his skin, landing squarely over his heart. 

Their hand was fire without the barrier of cloth between them. If their touch had been an anchor before, this was his cornerstone, his foundation. 

He was so warm. Their fingertips pressed down, creating shallow indentations. They reached, as if they could take out his heart and keep it for safekeeping. Their lips pulled away from his, briefly, coming back for small sips of him, like they were gathering their courage. Then Kalliope kissed the hinge of his jaw, down his neck, pausing at the dip of his clavicle. He felt their tongue, warm and shy, take a small taste of him there, and his mind snapped. Everything he held back demanded to be felt, every thought he shoved into a cage broke free. He wanted so much all at once. 

Kalliope gasped as Lucanis grabbed their hips and ground into them, reaching back to grab handfuls of their ass. They reached back behind him, threading their hands through his hair again, gripping and tilting his head back. They needed to know before this went any farther. It wasn’t how they thought this encounter would go.  

Breathing over his lips harshly, trying to hold themself back from rocking into him, they asked, “Do you want this?” 

Lucanis answered by retaking their mouth, his tongue licking over their bottom lip before dancing with the tip of theirs, stealing their air. Their brain short-circuited for a moment before sense reestablished itself. They jerked back, just enough, “I need to hear it, Lucanis.” 

Breathing hard, he rasped, “Si I…” He blew out air through his nose, steadying himself, clenching his jaw as he stared into Kalliope’s darkened eyes and whispered, “Si, quiero esto.” 

Kalliope stared back a moment as their heart buzzed and vibrated against their ribs, then nodded, whispering onto his lips, “Gut, kuss mich”, their hands coming forward to cradle his jaw on either side as they kissed him again. Kissed him with aggression now, biting his lip and pushing forward to get him on his back.

Kalliope’s hand felt like an anchor on his chest, tethering him to himself, and Spite faded into the background. Their faces were close – he could count the chips of iron in their amber irises, see the way their eyelashes curled just at the tips. His eyes wandered down to their mouth, thin pink lips open slightly in an awed smile.  

Kalliope leaned into him instinctively, not really thinking about the movement. Not thinking of anything at all really. Just letting their body seek his, as it always seemed to.  

And this time Lucanis did not move away. They hovered together, lips brushing in feather-light touches, hesitating on the precipice. Kalliope would not push him, he had to meet them this time, had to make the leap. They felt a hand on their hip and another close around their hand on his chest, and suddenly a kiss.  

A kiss that was so soft. It broke their heart, that kiss. He kissed like he wasn’t sure it was really happening. But the want was there, in the way he moved his bottom lip against theirs as he pulled way slightly. They needed him to know how real this was, how wanted he was, how deserving. That Kalliope really truly wanted this too. 

Their hands threaded into his hair and pulled him back into the kiss, tugging his hair to tilt his head, opening his mouth for them to lick into. A little grunt sounded from his chest in surprise, but he did not resist. They teased him with their tongue, breathing him in, gripping the hair at his nape. Distantly, they thought, Of course he tastes like bitter coffee, for which they internally laughed at themself. He’d probably been drinking it non-stop since he got back to the Lighthouse. 

His hand on their hip tightened and Kalliope’s body did as it was bid – they climbed properly onto his lap, settling their hips over his. In that moment they truly realized what was happening. A shiver ran up their spine as they pulled back from his lips, both of them taking gulps of air. Lucanis’s other hand had, at some point, made its way to the back of their neck.  

They both stared dumbly at each other, breathing each other’s air, bumping their noses together. Kalliope’s heart was at a gallop and damn near bursting with the anticipation of what Lucanis might say. They couldn’t tell if they dreaded it or yearned for it.  

However, the spell was broken when Lucanis murmured, “You’re very red.” 

Kalliope’s forehead knocked into Lucanis's nose as they laughed. Their sides ached with the effort to compose themself, taking in air only to sputter it out again in more laughter. 

“Well, I'm really nervous,” they said finally, smiling so big their cheeks hurt, their fingertips raking through his beard. 

“If this is you nervous, I'm afraid of what true confidence looks like on you.” 

“Pfft…” their smile softened and waned as they both resumed their staring. Lucanis’s dark eyes flicked back and forth between Kalliope’s. They felt his intake of breath, readying himself to say something, but Kalliope’s nerves got the better of them. 

“Do you-" they blurted and cut themself off, biting their lip. Maker knew Kalliope wanted this, but so much – too much - was running through their head. 

Lucanis watched them struggle. Despite the whiplash of their sudden nervousness, it endeared them to him, a warmth deeper than their hand on his chest sparking like a sleeping coal in a gentle breath of air. He could still feel spite lurking but seeing Kalliope like this, so shamelessly vulnerable, emboldened him. His hand at the back of their neck tightened and pulled them back to his mouth. Their taste, their smell would haunt his sleepless nights. But now he would indulge while Kalliope held his demons at bay. Maker knew he couldn’t do it himself. 

Kissing them was homesickness. He felt that sleepy coal in his chest drop down to his core, bringing such sorrow and joy tangled together it made him ache. Sorrow for waiting so long, joy for finally taking something soft for himself. Sorrow for all the longing of his life, and joy for Kalliope reminding him of the good in it. He kissed them, and it was like finding his way through the dark, not knowing what was in front of him but trusting the momentum to bring him home. 

His hands found their face, their roughness feeling misplaced on their skin. He drank of their light, wondering if it would drown his darkness. But Kalliope was as much dark as they were light.  

They gasped into his mouth, their hips settling further into his. Their fingers released his hair to fumble at the buttons of his collar, stopping to remove the chain and pins then plucking at the buttons. Kalliope managed a third of them before snaking a hand beneath to touch his skin, landing squarely over his heart. 

Their hand was fire without the barrier of cloth between them. If their touch had been an anchor before, this was his cornerstone, his foundation. 

He was so warm. Their fingertips pressed down, creating shallow indentations. They reached, as if they could take out his heart and keep it for safekeeping. Their lips pulled away from his, briefly, coming back for small sips of him, like they were gathering their courage. Then Kalliope kissed the hinge of his jaw, down his neck, pausing at the dip of his clavicle. He felt their tongue, warm and shy, take a small taste of him there, and his mind snapped. Everything he held back demanded to be felt, every thought he shoved into a cage broke free. He wanted so much all at once. 

Kalliope gasped as Lucanis grabbed their hips and ground into them, reaching back to grab handfuls of their ass. They reached back behind him, threading their hands through his hair again, gripping and tilting his head back. They needed to know before this went any farther. It wasn’t how they thought this encounter would go.  

Breathing over his lips harshly, trying to hold themself back from rocking into him, they asked, “Do you want this?” 

Lucanis answered by retaking their mouth, his tongue licking over their bottom lip before dancing with the tip of theirs, stealing their air. Their brain short-circuited for a moment before sense reestablished itself. They jerked back, just enough, “I need to hear it, Lucanis.” 

Breathing hard, he rasped, “Si I…” He blew out air through his nose, steadying himself, clenching his jaw as he stared into Kalliope’s darkened eyes and whispered, “Si, quiero esto.” 

Kalliope stared back a moment as their heart buzzed and vibrated against their ribs, then nodded, whispering onto his lips, “Gut, kuss mich”, their hands coming forward to cradle his jaw on either side as they kissed him again. Kissed him with aggression now, biting his lip and pushing forward to get him on his back.

[empressgeekt]

So I recently watched the Holiday in Harmony special properly for the first time and let me tell know, it's absolutely adorable. The cutest thing ever. But a couple thing ain't noticed too.

First, Branch definitely has abandonment issues, and while we know he is scared that Poppy will leave him one day. It appears a lot of his self-worth is connected to acts of service even way back before his brothers were even known since this event takes place between Trolls World Tour and Band Together. Enough that the mere thought thay Poppy might not like his gift sends him into an anxiety driven spiral that ends up destroying his perfectly fine gift and his bunker in an explosion when a simple, thoughtful gift is more than enough for Poppy.

Second, Poppy herself was also struggling throughout. She is very clearly aware that Branch has self worth issues, because she even if it's a holiday gift swap she did everything in her power to make sure Branch never learned she got him, even though she herself could not find a gift for him, and made absolutely certain that her gift box was the biggest and most special one in the party. Then, when it was revealed to be empty, the first thing she did was admit it's because she was the one who failed to find a gift for the "most amazing, cutest, sweetes, and most weirdly overprepared troll ever" and that it wasn't Branch's fault in any way.

Also, I think the holiday season must be Trollex's favorite time of year because this dude was jumping to join every song he could. He was absolutely killing it, too.

It think the subplot with Tiny is really cute, even if a bit out there. I love the bond between him and Guy and how much they love and adore each other, even if Tiny can be a bit of a past sometimes. Auntie Legsly was adorable in this too.

I LOVE that Cooper and Darnell have basically become Branch's bestie in this special, helping him in his Bunker and stuff. Branch needs good people, friends, and those two are good people friends. Viking with hsi crazy but careful to pull him back (if they can) when he starts to go too far. Makes me wish they made more appearances in the Band Together movie simply because those two are also a pair of long-lost brothers, and the whole movie's core theme was family, specifically family that had been separated for long periods of time, reconnecting.

Okay A LOT to go over. I watched that special when I was just getting into the trolls fandom back in February.

I was expecting Branch to go overboard the moment I saw that he got Poppy in the gift swap. He's a little over working bean who wants to give his partner everything he can. Also in the little doodle animation where Branch was practically spelling out how his was freaking out over the gift thing, doodle poppy says, "goodbye forever" a quote from John Dory, the night of the break up. I love this detail as it really speaks that his abandonment issues stem from that moment.

As for Poppy, also love that she went out of her way to find something that will make Branch feel loved, cause a normal material gift wouldn't do that for him. He needs meaning not pizzaz and a song would be way more meaning to him then anything else.

These two are just so sweet to each other.

The only problem i had with the techno trolls in this special was that we didn't really get to see Synth. He would look so cute in 3D.

The diamonds are probably one of the healthiest single parent households I have seen in children's media. They just love each other, and it's so sweet.

Cooper and D, are awesome, and i think they would get along. Cooper and Branch were both kind of outsiders growing up, I think if Creek hadn't ruled the roost, they would've been besties earlier on. D just follows his brother around since they're attached at the hip, but with Branch's mechanical know how he's probably closest to a non funk funk like troll you could get.

[mod-kyoko]

Oh~ how about another prompt with Miu where she has actually has a boyfriend, which is a surprise to her entire class, and personality wise, he's the opposite of her. He's kind and polite and a bit shy. Everyone is like, why is he dating miu, and isn't the relationship a bit toxic with shuichi and kaede being the only two to really support the relationship. Though when asked why he's dating Miu, his answer is that he finds miu to be adorable and loves every part of her. And Miu overhears this and is super embarrassed but also touched.

miu iruma w/ total opposite boyfriend

info: male!reader, established relationship, slight nsfw mentions, miu does what miu does best, around 1,900 words

type: oneshot format, non-despair au

a/n: I have a feeling you like miu a lot, not that I blame you at all I wrote this in a oneshot format just to make it flow better

⟡♡⟡♡⟡♡⟡♡⟡♡⟡♡⟡♡⟡♡⟡♡⟡♡⟡♡

it was a normal day in homeroom, students of class 53 formed small groups and talked amongst each other softly. it was oddly peaceful this morning. shuichi looked around and hummed in thought.

"isn't it more quiet than usual...?" he asked to his circle of friends who were kaede, kaito and maki.

"now that you mentioned it... it does feel quiet, did something happen?" kaede pondered.

"that's a surprise considering kaito is here..." maki said in her usual sarcastic and deadpan tone, to which kaito grunted in response.

"hey! I can be quiet too!" he rubbed the back of his neck. "but you're right, something doesn't feel quite right... like we're missing something."

as if on cue, the door was kicked open and a certain blonde genius proudly made her entrance.

"....that's why." maki growled.

"good fuckin' mornin' you lonely sons of bitches!" miu laughed harshly with her hands on her hips, walking into homeroom and lounging herself over her desk.

"miu... you seem very high in spirits." kirumi commented, gently nudging miu's shoes off of the desk. miu smirked and leaned back on her chair, putting her arms behind her head.

"who could blame me? anyone would be happy to be a beautiful girl like me!"

"doooooubt it." kokichi butted in with a sing-song voice. "was there a discount on scented vibrators or something?" he stuck his tongue out with a wink. miu went red and sat up properly, clenching her fists.

"no you fuckin' dwarf! since you're so damn nosey i'll tell ya..." she gestured for the others to come in close as a proud smirk stretched upon her face. "I, miu fuckin' iruma, girl genius and incarnation of beauty itself... has a boyfriend!"

suddenly the room went very quiet and all of her classmates turned to her with variations of surprise.

then kokichi started laughing. "bahahaha! good joke, miu! i had no idea such a bitch-brain like yourself was capable of decent humour!"

miu clenched her jaw. "shut the fuck up, you little shit! it's not a damn joke!"

"oh... oh you're being serious? it's not a lie?" kokichi raised an eyebrow. "you have a boyfriend?"

"inventions don't count as boyfriends, miu..." maki cut herself in, for once actually working along side kokichi and sharing their disbelief. before miu could bite back, maki sighed and crossed her arms. "whatever... who would even want to date you?"

"tch! you're just fuckin' jealous i have charm and beauty!" miu pouted, scratching her temple with a slight blush on her face. "it's y/n... y'know, the guy in the class below us?"

if anyone wasn't shocked before, they certainly were now.

"y/n... y/n l/n? are you sure?" even kirumi couldn't hide the fact that such a person like miu could bag a person like... him.

"even though he's a degenerate male... i never thought he was your type, miu!"

"kehehehe... like the tales of a forbidden love between an angel and a demon..."

"nya-ha-ha! you must be truly blessed by atua, miu!"

"there's no way you didn't cast a high seduction spell on him..."

"yeesh... poor guy... he probably couldn't even say no..."

all these influxes of doubts and jokes, it made miu curl into herself on her chair, eyes darting around at the mocking faces. why the hell did they not believe her?! and why was she starting to doubt herself too...?

in the sea of everyone else, kaede's words cut through them all.

"come on guys, that's enough!" she puffed up her chest. "i think it's really nice that miu found a special someone! who are we to judge?" she gently nudges shuichi who snaps out of his thoughts, clearing his throat and nodding.

"y-yeah...I think it's great you've found someone, miu."

miu felt a little better about it although she didn't show that she appreciated the two's support, she just stands up with a grin on her face. "i'll prove to you that me and him are made for each other, like antony and cleopatra!" she whips around to kaede and shuichi. "you can both be my witnesses! let's meet at the diner after school!"

"oh I've got to see this.. I'm coming too." kokichi said with a devious smirk. maki chuckled under her breath as well.

"I don't normally do this... but i'll come too just to see you fail."

"tch... get ready to be proved fuckin' wrong..." miu had to keep her word now, should be easy enough right?

after school, kaede, shuichi, kokichi and maki all went together to the nearby diner that miu specifically told them to go to. the diner wasn't that busy at all, with the occasional tired worker coming in for a cup of coffee.

the group had been waiting 20 minutes and miu still hadn't arrived with her supposed 'boyfriend'.

kokichi groaned out loud, reeling back as he tugged on his own hair. "aaargh... can we just order now? i'm hungry!" he whined.

"no, kokichi! we need to wait for miu and y/n!" kaede scolded him for his lack of patience which only made him groan louder.

"should it be taking this long, though? I hope everything is alright..." shuichi hummed, looking out of the window for any sign of the blonde.

"maybe she was just bluffing about this boyfriend..." maki sighed. "what a waste of my time... I'm leaving." she began to stand up yet a familiar voice caused her to sit down.

"hey dumbasses!" there was miu, with her arm linked around a timid-looking young man who followed behind her like a lost puppy. this would be... you.

"feast your lucky eyes on this cutie!" miu pointed her thumb towards you and you immediately felt embarrassed, rubbing your hands together, managing to throw a gentle wave.

"H-hi... it's nice to meet some of miu's friends..." you tried to speak confidently yet your voice cracked on the first word.

"we're not friends." maki spoke up quickly, leaning her cheek into her hand as she huffed. she was hoping that she could leave quickly but now she actually had to stay.

"maki!" kaede sighed softly, turning to you and giving a friendly smile. "it's good to meet you too, y/n! i've seen you around school but we haven't officially met. I'm kaede, and this is shuichi, maki and kokichi!" kaede gestured to who the names belonged to, shuichi gives a smile of his own, maki just gives a lazy attempt of a wave whilst kokichi was... staring with a straight-face.

"tsk... why the fuck you suddenly so quiet for, cock-itchy?! cat got your dick or something?" miu suddenly got defensive, tugging your arm closer to her. kokichi kept the straight face for a moment... then suddenly smiled and shrugged his shoulders.

"kokichi oma! charmed, i'm sure!" he extended his hand out to you, you were about to shake it until miu suddenly grabbed your wrist.

"don't grab it! he's got some shock toy for sure!" miu spat with venom, you quickly put your hand back to your side. kokichi sighed.

"buzz-kill!" he giggled like a little imp.

soon enough you were sitting down with miu's friends, ordering your food and just making idle chatter although you were quiet. it was true then... miu did have a boyfriend and quite the unlikely person too. admittedly, shuichi was starting to worry about you. he supported the relationship, of course but... would it really be okay? miu was loud, pushy and... overbearing, you didn't come off the type to enjoy that at least, that's what shuichi was starting to gather.

after eating, miu yawned her heart out and stretched. "welp, this golden girl is going to have a golden shit in the bathroom, don't fuckin' leave without me!"

"too much info..." maki grimaced.

"be right back, cute stuff." miu ruffled your hair as she stood up, you smiled and nodded your head with a gentle blush.

"o-okay, babe..." you watched your girlfriend make her way to the bathroom, once she was out of your sight you looked down at the table sort of in silence. you weren't exactly the type to initiate conversation.

"okay so... biiiiiiiiig question..." kokichi put his hands behind his head and leaned back against the booth. "how much did miu pay you for this?" this question caught you off guard and you looked at kokichi dumbfounded. kaede sighed, facepalming in complete disappointment.

"w... what...?"

"come ooooon... there's no way a guy like you wants a seething whore like her, right? there's gotta be a catch!"

you frowned, scratching your cheek and shaking your head. "no... I want to be with her..."

kokichi looked confused. "uh... what was that now?"

"yeah... are you serious?" maki leaned in closer against the table to look at your face as if she was searching for something. "you do realise how she is, right? she's a thorn in the backside... and loud, and cocky..." maki grumbled.

"I know..." you shifted around in your seat nervously, looking off to the side and a smile melted on your face. "but... I actually like that about her a lot... she's really confident and... she's really cute when she gets all excited about her inventions... I love listening to her talk, actually..."

"awww...." kaede smiled warmly at your words whilst clutching her chest.

you giggled. "miu is actually really sweet when you get to know her... I think she's perfect for me, actually... she's confident when I'm not... I think people judge her too much... but under the surface she's just a warm, caring person... I love her a lot and she's really beautiful, and smart..." you chuckled, shaking your head. "sorry, i'm probably gushing so much... but.. it's the truth of how I feel..."

the table was silent; kaede was still tearful at the beautiful display of love you possessed for someone like miu, shuichi was smiling a little bit and now he understood it... you two were actually perfect for eachother. maki seemed in thought but... she seemed less likely to make fun of it now. kokichi stared at you again, only to sigh a few moments after.

"well, he isn't lying... but jeez... boooooooooooring!"

"look who's fuckin' talking!" miu came back from the bathroom, glaring daggers down at kokichi. you immediately tense up with a bright red blush on your face.

"m.. miu..? did you hear that...?"

miu sits down next to you, raising an eyebrow with a confused expression. "huh? hear what? all I heard was dickhead over there being an annoyance!" she growled directly at kokichi, who stuck his tongue out. you sighed in relief, you couldn't handle the embarrassment if she knew what you were saying about her... maybe another day you can say it to her face...

miu heard everything. she heard the voices when she had left the bathroom but hid around the corner to listen. did you really mean all those things you said about her...? you thought she was beautiful and smart? of course she was! she was miu iruma! but... when it came from you... it just felt all the more special. she had to take several minutes to calm her blush before walking back, she just couldn't believe how cute you were...

she looked over to you chatting away to shuichi and she smiled softly. her hand gently took yours underneath the table, squeezing it and running her thumb over your knuckles. it was satisfying to see the tint of red on your cheeks yet you squeezed her hand back.

she was so happy that she met you, all the more happy that she could call you her boyfriend.

⟡♡⟡♡⟡♡⟡♡⟡♡⟡♡⟡♡⟡♡⟡♡⟡♡⟡♡

-Mod Kirumi

[jacksdinonuggets]

I FINALLY DID IT!

Amity has a bad autism day and Luz takes her home to regress.

Amity whimpered as another loud noise came crashing in. It was supposed to be a good day. But it wasn't. Everything felt overwhelming and too much. 

Right now, she was in her 5th period with Luz but even she couldn't help her. The teacher didn't care about the students and let everyone do whatever they wanted. This led to chaos and also made Amity extremely overwhelmed. 

Her brain stopped working properly and it was getting hard to process the information. Her heart started to beat faster as she checked the time and her process on the worksheet. Suddenly, she began to feel really tired mentally. Everything was too much and she couldn't even feel motivated to do her work.

Luz started to notice the behavior in her girlfriend.

“Sweet potato? Are you okay?” She asked. Amity shook her head.

“Can you tell me what's wrong?” 

Amity shook her head again. She really didn't want to talk at the moment.

“Its alright, lets step outside for a sec, hm?” Luz suggests. Her and Amity get up and go outside. The teacher was too absorbed in their paperwork to notice them leave.

Once they were outside, Luz pulled out the cat communication device and so did Amity. They mainly used these for one she went non-verbal. However, as she went to type, she felt like she couldn’t. Spelling out the words and figuring out which emoji was which letter was frustrating her. A pouty lip had formed on her face and she became angry with the device and not being able to understand it. She stomped her foot, trying to get her brain to work.

Luz noticed the small behaviors in the girl and realized what was happening quickly.

“Baby, are you feeling small?” She asked. Amity nodded.

“Its alright, sweetie. How old?” Amity held up 2 fingers. Luz pondered on what to do.

“How about I take you home, so you can regress properly?” she offered. The witch nodded and hugged Luz, signaling that she was feeling clingy.

Luz held her hand while she checked her out in the front office. The school knew about Amity’s regression and would allow her leave when she was feeling under 5 years old but she needed to have someone with her and check her out.

When they got to the empty Blight manor, Amity curled up on the couch and summoned a baby blanket for her to cuddle with. The soft texture of her blanket made her feel peaceful. 

Luz sat down and the witch laid her head in her lap. Luz put on nursery rhymes from the crystal ball for her to listen to. However, not much time later, Amity began sucking on her thumb. 

“Ami, where’s your paci?”

Amity made a babble that sounded like she was…angry? Or denying. Luz put two and two together and realized that Amity was probably denying her need for her pacifier.

“Are you sure you don’t want your binky? Your thumb has lots of germs on it and it probably doesn’t taste good, does it?” Luz said. Amity shook her head, as it had that weird skin and soap taste. 

Luz sighed. She didn't want to get up but she also didn't want nasty germs to get inside the Littles mouth. 

“How about i get your paci and you can go pick out a stuffy to cuddle with?” Luz came up with.

“Uppies?” She quietly asked. Her words were slowly coming back.

“Of course!” Luz got up and pick up the girl from the couch. She squealed with delight as she was carried to her room where her little stuff was. 

While Luz washed her pacifier in the sink, Amity was having trouble deciding what stuffy to pick out. Something as small as this could cause a tantrum. If she was already having a hard time regulating her emotions, trying to make decisions was going to be a really big trouble for her.

As she sat in her room, surrounded by her plushies and flapping her hands from getting stressed about this, Luz popped her head in.

“Hey, Amity, I’m done cleaning your binky! Did you find a buddy?” She asked. Amity shook her head and started to pull her hair. She didn’t know what to pick! She had her Hecate themed bear, but she also had a cool griffon. But what about her other stuffies? Like Otabin or the abomination stuffy? What if the other’s thought she didn’t love them? What if they hated her? Or didn’t want to be her stuffy anymore? Tears started to pour and she began sobbing.

“Sweetie, whats wrong?!” Luz ran over to her and tried to comfort her by hugging her but that only had it worse. Amity started to kick and wail. The feeling of someone touching her while she was panicking was torture. She was fine when she was calm but now? It felt like a million needles pricking her.

“I’m sorry, I won’t touch. Can we try to take some deep breaths?” Luz said in an attempt to calm her down. However, Amity wouldn’t listen. When Luz tried to show and demonstrate breathing techniques, Amity started to hit the floor with her fists and sobbed more.

Luz quickly pulled out her own scroll, knowing this would be the last resort, She began to call Em.

“Emira, how do you calm down Amity when she’s having a meltdown while regressed?!?!” She yelled right when Em picked up. She had to yell because Amity’s scream-cries were really loud.

“Woah, okay, good thing i skipped class, uhh, hug her and try to get her to take deep breaths,”

“That didn’t work, she’s not okay with touch right now, and she’s not listening to me,” Luz said.

“Uhh…Singing! She often gets calmed down if you sing lullabies to her. Just try not to put in her pacifier, she often gets clogged noses when crying,” Emira suggested. She could hear the cries of her baby sister in the background of the call.

“Okay, thank you Em,”

“Oh, and if that doesn’t work, get her blanket and wait it out. That’s usually the only other option. She’ll tire herself out.” 

“Thank you so much Em,”

“No worries, just take care of my baby sis,” she said before hanging up the call.

Luz turned back to Amity who was still on the floor, thrashing herself around.

“Hey, Mittens, focus on my voice for a second,”

Amity looked up at her, tears running down her red face and a bit of snot on her lip.

“Black birds singing in the dead of night…”

“Take these broken wings and learn to fly”

“All your life”

“You were only waiting for this moment to arise,”

Luz began singing in her best, lullaby voice she could. She had always loved the Beatles and knew a lot of their songs. When she would regress, she would usually listen to this song.

Amity slowly began to calm down after she began listening to her caregiver’s singing. It was calming. The floor punching and kicking slowed down.

“Blackbird, fly…”

“Into the light of a dark black night…” 

Luz went through another round of lyrics before Amity completely stopped thrashing and just laid on the ground sobbing. Luz stopped singing and hesitated for a moment.

“Are you okay with touch?” she asked. She saw Amity give a small nod.

Luz pulled her up and into her criss-crossed lap. She played with her hair while she let her finish sobbing.

“C-can’t pick…don’t want one to hate me” Amity mumbled after she had finished crying.

“Stuffies will never hate you. They're here to provide comfort for you and understand if you have a more favorable one,” Luz told her.

“Really?” Amity looked up at Luz with watery eyes still.

“Mhm! They don't mind if you pick one over the other. All they care about is if you're happy,” Luz began to give her tickle attack, making Amity burst out in giggles.

Once she was done, Amity grabbed her stuffed bear and held Luz's hand while they went downstairs to cuddle on the couch and watch shows meant for toddlers.

[ro-valerius]

Moxxie goes to have a chat with a very tired Tofu.

Collab write with @ffxiv-f13ndish [Moxxie]

The poor training dummy hardly stood a chance. For the past two hours, Moxxie was non-stop in her attacks. Back straight, shoulders squared, tight grasp, and full speed ahead.

Her rotation was broken when her hands — wet from sweat and the blood of her palms from the overexertion of friction — slid from the lance. She toppled forward into the grass with a frustrated grunt.

She rolled over to face the sky. Tired eyes searched the stars. What would her mother think of her now? Practicing on the lawn belonging to the person who tore their family apart. And she couldn’t even practice enough to properly beat him. 

Moxxie closed her eyes tight as she felt the sting of tears. Again. She needed to start over again. She reached out to grab her lance nearby. The front door opened, and a small, pink head peeked out hesitantly. Hana stepped out, looking shy, before shuffling over to Moxxie. She blinked slowly and reached down, tapping Moxxie on the hand and letting a healing spell seep into her touch. Moxxie rose a brow as Hana approached — she’d never exactly spoken with her directly before. 

“Hey um…have you seen Tofu come home yet…?” Hana asked softly, wringing her hands together in front of her chest as the toe of her shoe twisted into the dirt nervously.

In the time Moxxie’s spent here, she certainly would’ve noticed if Tofu left through the front door, unless he left earlier than that.

“No. If he’s not back yet, he may just not want to be found,” Moxxie curtly remarked with a shrug. Highly unlikely the guy was dead, anyways. She had the tiniest suspicion of where he may be hiding away, though. But since she liked to hide away at that spot, too, she wasn’t about to share where it was. 

Nevertheless, it was difficult to be short with Hana, as Moxxie quickly found out while looking at her. 

“Anyways, he won’t be gone all night. I’d probably just wait. Those injuries will slow him down, but they won’t kill him,” Moxxie reassured, after a hesitant silence. 

Hana nodded, but her expression was still troubled. She knew that he'd be alright, that the bad guys were gone now and that he was strong and resilient. But still, for him to be gone for so long, it wasn't for his physical state that she feared, but his mental. Was he sad? Was he hiding everything away again? She dropped to her knees as a dizzy spell took her. Still not suited for healing magics… She tried to smile brightly at Moxxie.

“Would you mind…checking on him? I'd go find him myself but… I don't have the strongest grasp of magic control and I might've overdone it,” she said, a tired edge in her voice, though she tried to hide it.

‘Yes, I do mind’ — was what Moxxie desired to say. Last thing she wanted to do was go search for the one who haunted her nightmares. Nevertheless, she did feel an underlying concern for the man — much as she fought it. And it was difficult to deny the request of a distraught girl who could hardly stand. 

“Fine. Just don’t stay out here on the ground like this,” Moxxie grumbled faintly, leaning down to hold out a hand to help the other up. “Come on, now. He wouldn’t want you to catch a cold.” 

Hana took her hand, running her fingers across the other girl’s palm and smiling to herself. Good, she had at least done enough to close the blisters. She hummed in agreement as she let Moxxie pull her to her feet. 

“Thank you. I’ll lay on the couch until the dizziness passes!” she said, making her way to the door with a small wave.

Moxxie squinted, eyes following Hana as she made her way back inside. She lingered there a moment longer until the door was closed behind her. Good. No passing out on the way back inside, at least. She glanced down at her hands, brushing her fingertips against the now healed surface of her palm.

Now then, it’s time to drag a rabbit back to the house before Hana sends out another person to retrieve them both. With an annoyed huff through her nose, she picked her lance back up and headed to the secluded spot which Tofu had shown to her. 

It would be safe to say that his complexion upon her arrival would be concerning. The butterfly fluttering around his head and the specks of blood around his mouth, wiped off onto the bandages on his hand, indicated that he had just gotten over another episode. His face had gone pale from it. He was in the clothes that he usually slept in, the other clothes needing repair or blood removal, and shoes he didn’t normally wear. But the attire covered most of the bandages, at least. Only his hands could be seen with wrappings on them. He stared out into the stars, as if counting them one by one, his knees drawn up and his hands at his sides. 

Moxxie stared at him for a long while, hesitant to approach. She remembered what she saw the last time she had come across him in this spot. He looked worse than how he appeared that time.

“Your little sister is looking for you. She was about to look for you herself, but she could hardly make it out the front lawn without collapsing. You should go back,” Moxxie stated, her voice ice cold. Tofu’s eyes slid over to Moxxie, his expression hard to read. He reached up and lifted Joy off his shoulder, affixing him with a stern look.

“Head home, let Hana know I’ll be there shortly,” he murmured to the bird. 

Joy fluttered energetically, doing a small zig zag in front of him before taking off towards the house, flying well above Moxxie’s head as he went. Tofu’s hand dropped back to his side as he looked out at the stars again. He didn’t really want to go home just yet. Being inside made him dizzy and he wasn’t sure why. At least here, under the stars, his head was clear. 

“Sorry she sent you, I know you would have rather not have to see me at all,” he said, addressing Moxxie finally. 

“The feeling is mutual,” Moxxie grumbled, presuming Tofu shared the same sentiment. Nevertheless, she walked over and leaned up against the wall. Her eyes wandered to the stars.

“I do not know what you mean by that,” he said, pausing a moment. “It is good to see that you are well.”

Moxxie only shrugged.

“And you are… breathing still. Sort of. You look like you’re about to keel over and die any second,” she said, glancing over him a moment before she turned her gaze back towards the sky. “So why are you out here, anyways?” Tofu took his turn to shrug.

“House is loud. My head spins so much while I’m there… I just needed a moment of stillness,” he responded quietly. He sighed and leaned his head against the wall behind him.

Moxxie’s jaw tightened as she held her lance close to her.

“Well, I’m sure you will get plenty of that now that your guy is dead and gone. Or are there more names on the other side of the kill list?” she dryly remarked. Tofu frowned and closed his eyes.

“You… Whatever. Nothing I say will change your mind about me,” he grumbled. His eyes snapped open as his ear twitched. He stood up, glaring at the woman that had run the day Moxxie had been attacked, putting himself between them in spite of the way he couldn’t put pressure on his leg. 

“Simmer down, attack dog. I’m not here to start anything, I’m not stupid enough to try with you around,” the woman called across the distance. She affixed Moxxie with a nearly bored expression. 

“I am here to offer a warning and some intel.” She took a single step forward, as if testing to see what Tofu would do, then another. Tofu tensed, but did not attack. She still kept her distance, but didn’t have to shout quite as loud.

“There is a long list of people who would target you because of your mother. However, very few of them actively know what you look like. Personally, I have no interest in pursuing this venue of action. They, however, are adamant about making a child pay for her mother’s crimes. Kinda weird if you ask me, now that I think about it. Anyway. Find out who it is that knows your face, you’ll have a lot less fighting to do if you just take them out,” she said, glancing briefly at Tofu before turning to walk away.

Moxxie stared at the woman in disgust. Her eyes glanced back to Tofu, her glare unwavering. Whether she hated him or not, she had to accept that her one token to safety right now was having him around. The thought made her blood boil. 

“I didn’t get off the ship often. I doubt they’ll be able to find me,” she grumbled, a moment after the woman’s footsteps faded away. Her hand clenched around her lance. “This wouldn’t be a problem if I wasn’t on land.” 

When the woman was no longer in sight, Tofu dropped to his knees. The magic episode before Moxxie got there still left him muddled and struggling to breathe. But it didn’t matter. He would have pushed it all aside if that woman had meant to do Moxxie any harm. 

“I’m sure…if Mina could get more of a crew back together…you could convince her to set sail? Maybe not for extended periods, but surely…” he managed, dragging himself back to the wall and leaning against it heavily. 

“Right. Like that’s going to happen,” Moxxie sighed. She watched as Tofu crumbled to the ground again. The fact he had gotten up so quickly…

Moxxie didn’t know what to think of it. She didn’t know what to think of most things anymore.

“Listen, I’m not going to have to carry you back. And I don’t want to go back and grab someone else, but you should get up before they send out a whole search team,” she said. “But no pressure.”

“I sent Joy, they won’t send anyone. I’ll be alright to head back, I just need a moment. I uh…just before you got here, I had some magic issues. Just need my body to settle,” he muttered, staring out at the stars. He really did not want to go home just yet and deal with the ringing and the dizziness…

“Yeah… interesting bird you got there,” Moxxie hummed, eyes wandering back towards the direction of the house as she recalled how the bird had flown back on his own. “Lots of interesting birds you guys have.”

Knowing that Tofu had sent a signal back, she could ideally walk back now. Nevertheless, she remained leaned up against the wall, her eyes to the sky as she fell into silence. Tofu hummed in agreement. 

“Joy’s well behaved, and smart. Probably too smart. Stubborn, too. Bitey has too much energy for her own good, but she’s generally fine, though Miyu seems to not want to be around her for prolonged periods of time. Hana could tell you more about the ones in the yard, they’re that lanky bastard’s birds, but she’s fond of them,” he stated, knowing that he was rambling a little bit, and that she probably didn’t care too much.

He stared back out at the stars, falling into a silence as well. At least he had information to give to Virgil, regarding the kid; the only reason he could see wanting to converse with that man so quickly after the last time… He held out a hand, as if reaching out to touch the stars. M’ezzo…no matter what, I’ll do everything I can to protect her. Just as I said I would…

Moxxie’s face twisted into uncertainty. Entertaining as it was to hear about the birds, there was a weight which clung to her heart at the mention of a name. A family member? She didn’t know what to consider them. Would her mother even want her to know more about the family? She had only ever heard tidbits in passing, whenever her mother had too much to drink and needed an ear to hear her burdens. With or without her mother’s desires, would she really even want to know about what remains of her family? It was them in the first place that brought this calamity.

“My… um. That person… Miyu. What are they like?” she hesitantly ventured to ask, despite her apprehension. Tofu jolted slightly as the reverie was broken, taking a moment to think of how to respond.

“They’re…compassionate. They put themself in harm’s way to protect their younger sister. Lotta the reason things went the way they did. But none of it is their fault. Er, that’s neither here nor there, I guess. When they care about someone, they care deeply. I wish… they had more confidence in themself,” he said, murmuring the last part more to himself than to her. 

“I don’t think…they know what to think about what happened to their sister.”

“Yeah? Me too. I don’t know what to think about most things anymore, too,” she mumbled faintly with a troubled expression. “So I guess we aren’t that far off from being related, huh? Even if we aren’t by blood, and my mom found me floating off in the middle of the sea.” She gave a dry chuckle. 

“So long as you never forget that I am your monster, that might make it easier for you. Nothing I say or do should change that,” he responded, tone void of emotion. He pressed a hand to his head and sighed. He would have to head home soon. 

Moxxie fell silent for a beat.

“You’ve taken long enough, you should hurry back,” she said, her voice monotonous. She peeled away from the wall and started back. Moxxie paused.

“I think… calling yourself a monster would be giving yourself too much credit. You’re not a mindless monster. Just a person who had to make some shitty choices,” Moxxie finished with a shrug. Not wanting to hear another word, she started walking off again.

Tofu buried his face in his knees, his chest tight, and not from the magic situation. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to feel relieved at her words, or if it would have been better if she had agreed with him. He let out a shaky sigh as he pushed himself to his feet, staggering slightly as he pressed a hand to his thigh. Bracing himself for the prospect of walking, he followed. 

When they got back to the house, he paused with his hand on the doorknob. Already, he could feel the nerves in his hand prickling. Something was wrong with the house, and had been for the last couple of days. He let out a sigh through his nose and opened the door, stepping in.

All at once, his ears rang harshly and his head felt light, like he hadn’t eaten for days - an uncomfortably familiar sensation from his childhood. He clamped both hands to his ears briefly before trying not to show his discomfort on his face.

With Moxxie having readied herself at the training dummy in the front, she had caught onto Tofu’s behavior from the corner of her eye.  Her head tilted to one side. Reluctantly, she walked over and touched a hand to his shoulder.

“Hey. What’s your deal?” she reluctantly inquired. He clenched his hands at his sides, trying to shake the ringing out of his head.

“...loud…” was all he could manage. Moxxie squinted at him in confusion.

From out on the lawn came the chime of ceramic bells and a shower of sparks. Tofu pressed a hand to his head and looked out to see that Daen Lad had returned… with a strange blue haired woman in tow.

[sisitrip]

For the @gallavichthings event A.U.gust 2023 prompt "Cyberpunk", I offer "B8ted Breath."

Thank you @gallavichthings and the people behind that tag for hosting! I don't know what this is, but whatever it does turn out to be, I had fun.

Housekeeping:

Funerarium - Funeral Home

Gravecodes - Condensed data containing video/audio of the deceased that can only be viewed in my dystopian funerarium.

Rig-mech - A terraforming machine technician who works on rigs used to make inhabitable outposts, habitable.

_____________________

Ian heads into the funerarium’s Reflection Room, a glass encased dome filled with fake flowers and a dry fountain sitting in the middle of its large space. He’s made coming here a habit after a gravecode visit. A sort of cherry on the morbid cake of his self flagellation. 

He takes a seat on the ring of the fountain and pulls out a small, collapsible metal cup and a mini carton of milk. As always, he feels dumb doing this, but it comforts him after a rough viewing.

He’s pouring the milk into the cup when a B8 CL-WS unit glides noiselessly into the room. Boxy and sitting atop soundless rubber wheels, it rolls around cleaning non-existent dust off the floor. He smiles, thinking not for the first time that this particular cleaning unit looks a little like a robotic military tank.  

“Shit,” he curses softly as he overflows his cup and it spills on the floor. The B8 immediately makes a beeline for him. He lifts his feet as the unit’s small, microfiber pad swipes through the liquid then blows heated air to dry what's left. 

He laughs knowing he must look ridiculous with his feet hanging above the floor and his dumb collapsible cup raised in an awkward toast. The unit goes on blowing warm air, unmoving. This is the longest wipe and dry he’s ever seen. He couldn’t have spilled that much. 

“Uh, I think it’s dry now,” he says. 

The B8 just continues blowing air and he can feel it sliding uncomfortably up his pant legs. Great. It’s malfunctioning.

“Area sanitized. Retract.” 

The unit doesn’t move.

“Um, retract,” he tries again, legs starting to ache in their raised position. “C’mon, retract dopey.”

Nothing. 

Ian notices the code on the unit’s exterior has been altered. An ‘A’ has been scratched over the dash between the CL and WS. Despite his irritation, he laughs. It’s probably been done before, but for some reason, seeing that silly CLAWS etched into this broken cleaning unit is what he’d needed. 

“Claws my ass, you box of junk. I should give you a kick,” he chuckles. 

“I wouldn’t do that. She's been retrofitted with a mini-flame thrower.”

The voice startles him so badly, he falls backward into the fountain, cup flying. He bounces his head off an ornate cherub and sees stars.

“Jesus fuck!” he shouts, flailing as he tries to get out of the fountain without kicking the stupid B8 unit that was now whizzing back and forth over the newly spilled mess. 

A hand braces itself on the rim of the fountain, bearing faded knuckle tattoos that spelled “FUCK.” He stares at it dizzily, fascinated by how menacing that hand looked despite its small size. 

“If you’re thinking of taking a bath in this thing, it ain’t gonna happen, Cherry.”

A man, sporting a black military cap atop longish dark locks, peers down at Ian with the bluest eyes he’s ever seen this close. The looming man’s expression was equal parts amused and irritated as he held out his other hand.

Ian takes it and lets himself be hauled to his feet to properly look at his rescuer. This man was no more than 5’7” with a small, but compact frame and not the hulking menace he thought he was. Not usually Ian’s type, but those eyes. They were something. 

He stares a little too long and the man snaps his fingers in front of his face. 

“How hard did you ring your bell, man?” 

Caught without an excuse for gazing longingly, Ian's face warms.

“That thing almost burned the hairs off my legs,” he complains, reaching down for his cup only to have the B8 snag it with a hook and toss it into a compartment on its back. “For Christ’s sake!”

The man rubs a finger across his ridiculously kissable mouth, chuckling quietly. Despite his irritation, Ian finds himself fighting an answering smile. 

“The fuck you expect a cleaning unit to do?” the man scolds. “You drop shit, it picks it up.” 

Ian rubs the small lump that’s starting to swell on the back of his head, anger flaring at the less than contrite attitude. 

“I didn’t drop a damn thing. It flew out of my hand when you ninja'd out of thin air.” He glares at the man, noting his uniform, an all black jumpsuit bearing the name of the facility. “You work for Obriad?”

“That’s what the jumpsuit says.” 

The man leans down, presses a series of buttons on the underside of the B8 and it takes off, zooming away towards a black door partially obscured by two huge, fake palms. The unit stops at the door, waiting patiently, like a dog. 

“Then you might want to take that unit out of commission until it can be repaired,” Ian suggests, drinking the milk and taking in the tattoos on the man’s other hand. He snorts. Fuck U-Up. This one's a walking, talking poet. 

“There’s nothing wrong with that B8. You spilled milk and it kept cleaning until it was dry. No use crying about it,” the man says, as if he's addressing a child. 

Angry and at a loss for words, Ian drains the milk, taking in the man’s half smile that could be flirtatious or condescending. It feels like both. He regroups.

“I'm not going to argue about a faulty B8. Just try not to have it burn the hair off anyone else’s legs.” 

He turns to walk away and is stopped by the snottiest intonation he’s ever heard. 

“Sir, yes sir. Obriad extends its sincerest apologies, Mr. ...?” 

Ian allows himself a quick grin before turning to look haughtily over his shoulder. Yeah, that smile he’d been confused about earlier? Definitely flirty.

“Gallagher. And you’re …?” 

“Devastated by your displeasure.” 

Ian laughs and that seems to please this exasperating man who continues. 

“It's Milkovich. I run operations here and rest assured, your leg hair will be safe from now on.” 

Ian gets a smile that eclipses every light in the room. Hell.

“Uh, yeah. Thanks, Mr. Milkovich.” 

He gives a short, weird wave, suddenly unsure of how his hands work. Neck burning, he walks quickly to the e-lifts, silently cursing his inability to ever play it cool.

“It's Mickey.” 

The softly called name reaches him at the doorway of the Reflection Room. He turns and Mickey is walking backwards toward that palm framed door, hands in his pockets. Ian considers for less than a second before offering his own name.

“Ian.”

Mickey touches the bridge of his cap and salutes him in an exaggerated farewell worthy of a sultan. Ian huffs a soft laugh and heads to the e-lift. After depressing his thumb to the location pad, it opens. 

He spends the quick descent and vertical shifts to his transport thinking about how Mickey seemed less like a funerarium operations director and more like a rig-mech. Gruff and teasing, his demeanor was better suited for that kind of rough outpost work. Ian should know. He'd bedded more than a few of them. 

The transport calculates the best route home and it's only halfway there that he realizes he's left his cup. He tells himself that he has to remember to ask Mickey for it on his next visit. It was everyone's duty to keep waste to a minimum, right? Retrieving a perfectly usable cup was the responsible thing to do. Honor demands it.

He looks at his reflection in the impenetrable plexishield of the window and the smile he wears is unique if for no other reason than it's a first on many levels. 

It's the first time he's smiled in months. The first time he's smiled in this stupid transport he'd inherited from Monica. 

More importantly, it's the first time he's ever smiled after a gravecode viewing. 

He stares unseeing at the dry, rundown landscape of the approaching outpost and can't decide if this development is a good thing or cause for concern.

He shrugs. It doesn't matter. It feels good and that’s so rare for him, he savors it. 

Maybe finding something to smile about in a funerarium is sacrilege. Maybe it’s not.

Whatever it is, he’ll be back next month if only to see those blue eyes again.

[gauze-valley]

Whumperless Whump Event Day 1

Prompt: Emergency first aid, self done stitches

Finished my first post for @whumperless-whump-event's first prompt a liiittle late but I did it! This snippet is a precursor to. The only other thing I've written on this blog, which you can find here and here (in order!)

If u like the whole "caretaker has to care for themselves and suck it up so they can be there for people" trope, this might be for you!!

my stuff for this event probably won't be too polished, sorry about that! I'm just here to actually get myself to write :')

CW: Graphic description of self-suturing a wound, needles, graphic description of pain, laceration

[~1 and a half pages, 3rd person POV, OC/non-fandom]

If nothing else, at least the wound is only leaking. The stasis spell has held up surprisingly well, but the mirage-like waves in the magic aura around the wound tell Ira that he's made the right call in deciding it needs to be properly dealt with now, if the pain hadn't said as much already.

But he's exhausted. His limbs ache and there's a weight pulling on his body. He hasn't been off of his feet since early in the morning. A small reckless part of him says to recast the spell and lay down for a bit- what's the harm? He'll be closing this thing himself, and surely he could do it better with a little rest.

That'd be stupid, though. The overuse of healing magic is a risk for most already, let alone someone like Ira, whose mixed essentia halfway wants to reject every bit of holy magic that enters his body. He'll already be feeling the effects of this tomorrow, he's sure, and a second cast could put him entirely out of commission.

It's with a slow reluctance that he goes about cleaning the wound, sterilizing the area and wiping away the topmost layer of blood so he can actually see the edges More begins to seep out in response, but it's slow- the spell is still holding, and it's far more long than it is deep, so it seems safe to close. Unfortunately, the pain suppression is beginning to wear off, but that's all the more reason to get this over with.

Staring into the bathroom mirror, he tries to steel himself, conjure the motivation. He's done things like this before, in fact, he's done much worse procedures on himself than stitching a simple laceration, but his head is pounding and he just wants today to be over. Not that tomorrow will be any better. He's still needed- he won't be resting unless this gets much, much worse, and he intends not to let that happen.

Pushing the needle through the skin is easy. His hands are steady despite how worn and heavy they feel. They always are. Gritting his teeth through the pain, trying not to let the feeling of thread dragging through the punctures disrupt his focus, is much harder. Every sharp tug makes his skin crawl with disgust.

Ira resists the urge to rush it, because he's smarter than that and it's difficult enough to keep it neat considering the awkwardness of having to look down or look in the mirror for guidance, but fucking hell, every time this process is prolonged by having to clear away the blood again, he wants to scream.

Finally, he ties off the sutures, giving a relieved sigh that he immediately regrets as a dull pain shoots through his entire side. He carefully cleans the remaining blood once again and properly dresses the wound before throwing on a loose T-shirt. Now all he needs to do is clean up here before Six and Joy get back.

A ringing from the other room interrupts his thoughts. His phone. Muttering curses to himself, he walks over to snatch it off the bed and answers.

"Yes?"

"Chaplain Stepford, um, I'm sorry to bother you, but Chaplain Hart is busy and so is everyone else and-" Ira pinches the bridge of his nose. Of course, it's Clea. Can the acolytes not go an hour without his supervision?

"Is it urgent?" He interrupts, his tone short and exasperated.

"Not… exactly right now, but it could be. I think Lane's making a bad call about something and he won't listen to me."

"About what exactly? Spit it out." God, he knows he should be receptive to his students coming to him for help, but just once it'd be so nice if literally anyone else could deal with it.

"He wants to completely seal a wound, because he thinks-"

That's all he needs to hear. Lane should know better, but of course he doesn't. Of course he'd not only overestimate his own skill but completely disregard all warnings about only using drastic magic when it's completely necessary. "No. No, absolutely not. Tell him that if he does that without my approval, I'm releasing him from my mentorship."

"I already tried telling him that that'd probably happen. He said I'm just upset because we have different ideas. Can you come talk to him?"

"I'll be there in less than ten. Make it very clear to him that his ass is expelled from the program if I get there and that wound is mended shut. He's far from skilled enough to attempt that, I don't care how much he's read about it. If he insists on being a moron before I can get there, find another chaplain immediately."

"Okay, thank you-" Ira hangs up before Clea can finish. Really, he should probably thank her for bringing this to his attention, but all he can think about right now is how much worse the pain is getting, and how long it'll be before he can collapse into bed, and the utterly overwhelming thought of being on his feet all day again tomorrow, but this time with a fresh wound.

Forcing himself to struggle back into his robes feels like a monumental task. He doesn't even bother to take off his casual clothes first, he just wants to get this over with quickly and without bending his side, as much as he can avoid it.

He pops a couple of over-the-counter painkillers before he leaves, hoping that'll be enough for now.

[shinygoku]

With the Beatles (1963)

Time for part 2 of CutCat Reviews Beatles Albums now it's February!

An iconic picture to be sure, but I'm not wild on it. Maybe it reminds me too much of trying to fit pictures into a small MS Paint Canvas? lol

Like with Please Please Me, I think there's some songs that slipped under the osmosis radar and that I ain't heard in full. Though I think the only albums I've listened to from start to finish all in order are the 1 CD, Revolver and Sgt Pepper, so I'll stop mentioning it on these early and the later ones... We're also still in "a fair few Covers" country, so will I be as mild on them as I was on the Non-Boys of PPM?

SIDE ONE

It Won't Be Long: I first heard this fairly recently, on the radio that was playing in another room. My thoughts weren't that strong, other than that "She Loves You" does the Yeah! repetition better lmao. Having been able to it properly since, though, I'm a lot warmer to it! It's optimistic and energetic, and the even higher amount of Yeahs is funny (though I maintain that SLY easily wins the Yeah Battle... but more on that when I reach it~). Yeah, Yeah, Yeah, Yeah, Yeah, Yeah!!

All I've Got To Do: This one seems to get slept on a lot... it's pretty solid, but it doesn't really offer any particular Iconic moments. The chorus shakes things up in a nice way but it seems Sticking Power ain't something it has. It's one of many songs that go to show how amazing this band was, as this isn't bad, but it's been left far behind by the other songs they've blessed us with, innit?

All My Loving: Now THIS is a memorable song! Such a jaunty guitar with the direct words! A real narrative is being laid out, albeit as an assertion of future things being promised~ Ah nuts, it blasted my memory of the previous song outta my head... XD - Seems this is the only one that got Red Album'd in this list? Wild that it's only the 1, but I think the right choice was made.

Don't Bother Me: George time! I'm not clear on if the narrative here is a post-breakup or if he's being dramatic about a spell away from the GF, but the main crux is that he doesn't want non-GF contact at that point in time. It's much moodier than most'a their stuff from this time, and there's more damn nice instrumental work.

Little Child: The title on it's own has me somewhat 8(, and the lyrics unfortunately confirm this [albeit Dancing on it's own ain't that bad, but one knows Dancing is often a euphemism in songs like this, or a precursor to more]... I'm sorry for such a negative, potentially pearl-clutching response. But also the music isn't charming me enough to coax me into softening my view. The first real Dud of this album, imo.

Till There Was You: Now THIS, I like! I was baffled why this seems to fly under the radar of Iconic Beatles Songs, but I since found out it's a cover, so that's probably the explanation. The lyrics are decent but the real appeal is that absolutely gorgeous guitar work and bongos, they provide such a warm feel~ It's also giving me strong "Anime Ending Credits Sequence" vibes, which I'm quite partial to ^w^ ...Issit just me or does Paul gain a slight Irish accent when he says "no, I never heard (them/it) at all" :0c

Please Mr. Postman: This I DID know was a cover from the start, haha! It's a very catchy song, but even with my sizable Beatle Bias, I can't really commit to declaring this one as the best... it's very good and very listen-able, but it may be that the definitive Mr Postman is somewhere else...

SIDE TWO

Roll Over Beethoven: Again, it's a cover, but I've not heard Chuck Berry's OG take at the time of writing. The song is pretty groovy, George's vocals ring nicely. I'm not dazzled, but I like it well enough :>

Hold Me Tight: Another Beatles original, another one that tends to get omitted from Mentions...! It's nice, but a lot plainer than most'a the stuff, lacks a certain Pizazz

You Really Got a Hold on Me: Another cover, one I've prolly heard before by a non-Beatles act, while this one is another Fine, Inoffensive romp that I lack strong feelings for lol

I Wanna Be Your Man: Now I know this one was somewhat famously given to The Rolling Stones, and I even heard that played on the radio too. When it was their version, I wasn't impressed. Sung by Ringo, as it had been intended initially? ....I'm still not that impressed. Mostly in the lyrics, it's real repetitive! But my Ringo bias keeps it afloat, and it's odd Mid-ness makes it more memorable than others on this album.

Devil In Her Heart: A good cover, this! George doing nice vocals and the candance to the title is catchy, and ooooh the instruments in the background are also fun, are those maracas I hear? It gets bonus points for the harmonies disagreeing with the lead too, hehe

Not A Second Time: The last original of this album, and it's not really doing it for me. Something about it kinda blurs into itself. Their later betrayal type numbers are more my bag, baby

Money (That's What I Want): And we're closing the experience with one more cover. I dig the instruments, most notably the piano, but the song itself is just, like, whatever lmao, Maybe it's too overtly materialistic and a bit listless? Man oh man does the Pink Floyd Money blow this outta the water lmaooo

CONCLUSION

Best 3: It Won't Be Long, All My Loving, Till There Was You

Blurst 3: Little Child, Not A Second Time, Money (That's What I Want)

Overall Quality?: An improvement over Please Please Me, though in a way it's more level quality makes it a bit harder to pick the best at least best songs in it. Most of the covers are again decent but not amazing, and the originals are hit and miss. Unfortunately it seems side 1 got the Lion's Share of memorable, fun numbers, leaving side 2 with also-rans, though in that is Devil in Her Heart at least!

🪲🪲🪲🪲

On the next part, it shall have been (?) A Hard Day's Night and its all-original song lineup! Just the Album though, if I'm looking at the Film it'll be another, separate instalment ^w^;

[frixiot]

Utilising tumblrs long word counts to dump my Oc info here for easy access 🙏 this is mostly to link on other socials but ig if you’ve come across this your welcome to read too (note I’m not a writer, i just don’t have the time to draw all this)

Here is a summary of how my current Dnd characters met & fell for each other :)

Arkzire ended up joining the Wavecutter after the captain of Tyrnan’s ship found him chained up in a ship they were raiding (long story). He was knocked unconscious while leaving that ship so Tyrnan didn’t properly meet him till the morning. When Arkzire woke aboard the ship he left his room still a bit dazed (& probably concussed) to look around. He saw a couple crew members on deck but his attention was immediately drawn to Artemis, who is Tyrnan’s beloved pet/familiar (a wandering albatross!). Arkzires special interest is birds & his absolute favourites are Albatrosses but he’d never seen a real one before, so he went over to her right away. Leaning down to marvel at her, not knowing that she belonged to someone.

In his excitement he did not notice the man standing patiently right behind him. After having a thorough stare at the bird, Arkzire took a step back & was startled by bumping into… her owner, Tyrnan! Poor Tyrnan hardly got a word in before Arkzire yelped out a sorry & ran off embarrassed. Tyrnan assumed he’d scared him & felt bad about that (for once), the captain had told him specifically to be nice to the new guy. Whereas Arkzire ran off because he was not expecting to turn and be greeted by what in his eyes was ‘the most handsome man he’d ever seen’. Tyrnan would spend the rest of the day trying to get a proper introduction in without startling him, and Arkzire spent the rest trying to make himself look a bit less dishevelled (he had half his face bandaged & was covered in various small injuries from his rough treatment aboard the bloodhounds ship). Eventually they did get to properly introduce themselves, Tyrnan tried his best to appear non threatening as he truly thought Arkzire was terrified of him.

The days after that they didn’t talk very often as Arkzire was too nervous to initiate anything. He got assigned cleaning duty & would get a little distracted watching Tyrnan doing all the heavy lifting on the ship, he got caught staring a couple times. Arkzire knew he had a crush but wasn’t thinking it’d go anywhere and tried to brush it off, he didn’t think it was even appropriate for him to be having these thoughts about the first mate, let alone any crew member. He briefly discussed his crush with his new friend Quill who, having known this crew for years, questioned Arkzire’s choice in men.

The first more private moment between them happened when Tyrnan offered to help with the healing of the large wound on Arkzire’s face, left on him by the Grell of the bloodhounds when he was rescued. Arkzire had kept that half of his face covered in bandages since he got it and seemed afraid to even look at it. Tyrnan has healing magic & wanted to help, so they went to a more private room as Arkzire was still nervous for others to see the wound. He sat on a table & Tyrnan unravelled his bandages to take a look, Arkzire was expecting just a quick spell and they’d leave.. Tyrnan had innocent intentions, he just wanted to help (which he did) but he also solidified Arkzire’s crush tenfold by doing this… Tyrnan got quite close to him & while almost holding Arkzires face, slowly traced a thumb along the wound which spans from his forehead to just below his lip, using magic to heal the wound to a clean scar. An unintentionally high romantic tension scenario (quite especially when he got to the lip bit of the scar) which Arkzire could not stop thinking about for the next couple days..

Over the next few weeks-months they’d talk more and grow closer, the captain who is Tyrnans (adoptive/non biological) older sister noticed the two spending more time together. Being happy at the prospect of her brother actually being friendly with someone, she paired them up often, mostly for training type things as Arkzire was still new to all this pirate stuff. Tyrnan can be quite inept to people showing romantic interest in him, so by not noticing he only furthered it for the both of them, it took him awhile to notice that what he was feeling was more than friendship.

He did finally notice this was something more when the two started meeting on the top deck at night alone. It started as an accidental meeting, Arkzire had gone out to get some fresh air and think after waking from a bad dream, Tyrnan was also up late writing and saw a troubled looking Arkzire out on the deck and went to check on him. Then a few nights later they saw each other out there again, and again, until they were meeting nightly and neither could deny it was accidental. They’d sit out there talking and gazing at the stars, but Tyrnan never really was looking up at the night sky, his eyes always ended up wandering to Arkzire’s direction. It wasn’t exactly subtle, but the sight of his silver hair bathed in moonlight couldn’t help but draw Tyrnan’s attention more than the night sky. He wanted to tell Arkzire how beautiful he looked.

And then one night he realised that feeling was mutual, when in a little burst of confidence Arkzire moved right next to him and rested his head against his shoulder. After sitting like that for awhile, eventually his hand resting around at Arkzires waist, Tyrnan couldn’t keep it in him anymore,

“I think I’m in love with you” he said,

“I think I am too” Arkzire responded.

That night as they said goodbye, Arkzire gave Tyrnan a kiss on the cheek. And the night after, Tyrnan would ask if he could give Arkzire a proper kiss.

Some crew members could tell early on the two were together, noticing them holding hands under the dining room table & exchanging loving glances throughout the day. On one particular morning as Quill woke early he saw Arkzire suspiciously leaving Tyrnan’s quarters after being missing all night, he called it (& now Nox owes him 3 gold pieces for the bet they placed).

And then after a month of them being incredibly unsubtle, Captain Rita forgot to knock on her brothers door before entering and walked in on the two making out, cats out the bag. Might as well tell everyone, so they did. The crew eventually became accustomed to the lovebirds, although it initially was shocking for them to see Tyrnan’s sweeter side & hear his language change around his new lover, who knew he was secretly such a romantic!

Thx if u read all the way :) here’s when they got walked in on lol

[smaller-comfort]

It always comes down to the classics, right? Orpheus and Eurydice, never knowing who will emerge from the darkness with you; Pandora's Box, and the things you can't undo.

Anyway, here's the finale and the coda (which is like an epilogue except it's a musical term; when you play a coda, you go back to the beginning again see what I did there) wherein I go completely off the rails into wild and speculative AU territory. Look at those new pairing tags. I can't believe I quoted The Last Unicorn in the chapter summary. Utterly shameless.

Extensive notes below the cut, because I like to hear myself talk.

Monk is like a baby butch trying desperately not to fumble this sad divorced cougar a second time. It's fine. They'll figure it out. They might even be good for each other; there certainly aren't very many things that would make either of them worse.

A silly little joke about tomatoes evolved into all of this. Over 9000 words! There are themes! Or an attempt at themes, anyway, and an attempt at laying the groundwork for some sort of narrative arc from beginning to end. I tried to make each character scene tie together in some way; I hope I succeeded.

Ninja still doesn't know how to spell PTSD; I should probably add Ninja/A Fucking Nap (unrequited) to the pairing tags.

Writing this was a blast, honestly. Embrace the cringe, be free, write it weird and self-indulgent and unhinged. I keep laughing at my own jokes; this is the longest piece of fanfic I have ever finished and published.

I still might write the sequel where Ninja gets pegged properly. He deserves something nice.

The real epilogue is actually just Shopkeeper and Phantom taking turns curb stomping Resh'an in the void, because if they have to learn to live with their inescapable grief, so does he. This all kind of ties into another WIP I have on deck- I have to make sure I don't just directly crib any Shopkeeper's lines for Resh'an, because they're both out here doing horrible things hoping that the end will someday bring an absolution for the things they've done.

It won't, and they just have to live with it, anyway. I was originally going to have Phantom get into that with Shopkeeper in the coda, but I wanted to wrap things up neatly.

"Of course I did. How could I have ever sent it to anyone else?" The final scene didn't originally have Shopkeeper doing a secret identity reveal, but then that line got suck in my head and I figured why not make everything even more fucked up. (Still firmly in speculative AU territory, really. I think it's more likely for Shopkeeper to be Phantom and Muse's kid than anything else, honestly.)

Okay, so here's Phantom, and this is Phantom's ex-wife, Shopkeeper, but it was an amicable divorce, they still hang out sometimes. And this is Shopkeeper's girlfriend, Monk, and Monk's hapless twunk Ninja (they are in a lesbian-centric semi-non-sexual throuple)-

Look, I think I am hilarious.

Shopkeeper and Monk mostly just flirted outrageously with each other back in the day. Monk is less concerned with romance than she is with being forgiven, which probably isn't clear enough in the story.

I'm still halfway convinced that I should reformat it as a one shot, but I also think I am very funny in some of those chapter notes, so I'll probably leave it. Over 9000 words!