#everyone’s been really nice about all this and I hope nobody is minding me posting the asks publicly

[rainbowspinch]

Hey Sorry To Bother You But I Saw Those Terrible Equius And Aradia Anon Messages And I'm REALLY Sorry You Had To See Someone Type That! I Mean Seriously, It's Not True And It Is Gross That Someone Would Claim That Happend. Hopefully You've Had Some Nice Anon Messages Too

Hiiii! Not a bother at all!

It really is such a weird conclusion they came too and it’s pretty sad they’re that hateful about something that is blatant misinfo anyway. But to be honest, I think they just want a reaction and I like getting them because I think they’re REALLY funny. I’ve been quoting that first huge paragraph I got for days now, people write so angrily and so blindly that they have no idea how comical they’re being haha

But I appreciate the concern, and there’s nothing to be sorry for. I’m having fun and overall the homestuck side of tumblr has been really nice to me, even if it’s my first time getting such aggressive hate messages.

I don’t get many asks in general, but the people around me have always been very kind and supportive. I’m very lucky to be online with such good people <3

[luxraydyne]

pop quiz what breed of childhood trauma borne neuroticism is it called when being condescended to on just the most neutral, limpid, nothing thoughts you express like you’re a little silly child, or “out of your depth”, or woefully misinformed, or just speaking on something you shouldn’t cause fuckin hell you’re doing it *wrong*, and with the most plainly obvious remark too, makes you want to chew on your own arm until you reach bone marrow

[adropofelixir]

ｓｏｆｔ ｃｏｎｆｅｓｓｉｏｎ - ｗａｎｄａ ｍａｘｉｍｏｆｆ

𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜(𝙨): wanda maximoff x fem! reader

𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮: when sexuality starts to become something in the forefront of your mind, you can’t help but start to shut everyone out. nobody knows what’s going on with you, but a specific telekinetic woman finds the perfect way to get you to open up to her.

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: internalized homophobia, avengers compound/civil war! era, hallway crush vibes, reader not really knowing wanda all that well at first, wlw!au, wanda being perfect, i think that’s it?

𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙧’𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚: nice to meet you, i’m lea! since this is my first fic it won’t be perfect, but i’ll get better as time goes on! this is super fluffy… and gay. i hope you all enjoy, happy (ending) pride month!!

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

everything about you recently had felt off. nothing was right. waking up felt like you were out of place, your insomnia was out of the roof, you were only eating your safe foods for the past few weeks. all the avengers could tell there was something bothering you.

tony had tried first. saying some words along the lines of, “cmon, kid. you can talk to me — you won’t be shut out.” although his attempt was nice, and oddly caring for the stark man, you didn’t budge. thor and bucky hadn’t really been the best at speaking to girls your age, so they didn’t really attempt much.

next was peter and natasha, they had teamed up to see if they could get you to crack. the two had purchased a large pizza and your favorite sweets in an attempt to see how much they could get out of you; long story short, it didn’t work. you just took the food, thanked them for going out of their way for you, and excused yourself to bed for the night.

cap was last to try. he had been the one person who seemed to get through to you every single time you were acting weird. this time however, he had never seen you so puzzled. after trying for about an hour of poking and prodding to get even an inch of what was on your mind to come to your surface, you practically pushed him out of the room asking for peace and quiet.

ever since you turned 18, everything about love had been on your mind. there was no doubting that you were envious of your friends that were in healthy, happy relationships. hell, some of the people you went to high school with were getting engaged already. however, every single post that you happened to scroll past on social media, you couldn’t help but feel yourself cringe a little bit.

seeing your friends happy, and other happy, made your heart flutter. that was no secret, but when you stared at the pairs of man and wife, or girlfriend and boyfriend, your heart banged with confusion as to why it didn’t feel right to you. that was, until you went on a coffee run.

walking into the small coffee shop that had become your recent hyperfixation, you noticed two women in the corner. there was something different about this pair. they were closer than just friends seemed to be, they were holding hands, the shorter blonde leaning her head against the taller ginger. you were captivated by them, they were fucking 𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙩𝙩𝙮. then, as if the universe was watching you searching for answers, the two girls’ lips connected.

your heart fluttered and your eyes suddenly went a bit wide with awe. everything about the image in front of you felt so right. it was everything that you had been craving, all of the confusion about seeing the straight couples had fizzled away from your mind. it all made fucking sense. you liked women, there was no denying that, but how would you be accepted knowing everyone around you was always asking when you were going to get a boyfriend?

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

ever since that trip to the coffee shop and seeing the lesbian couple, your mind had been running circles every second of every minute. you had tried your best to avoid everyone, being conflicted with yourself and wondering if it was just a phase or if you could change your feelings for something so trivial.

it was 1am, and you hadn’t gotten an inch of sleep. you were laying on your bed with your phone in your hand, scrolling on google at photos of lesbian relationships. there was a knock at your door, suddenly jolting you away from your obvious daze. shutting off your phone, you got off your bed and cracked the door open to see who could possibly need you at this time of night.

staring back at you was the quiet sokovian, with her brows slightly taut with worry. “wanda?” you had spoken, your voice a little broken from not speaking much the past few days. you cleared your throat as she offered you a small smile. her accent slipping through her pink lips as she spoke, “i wanted to check on you. i-i know we don’t know each other hardly at all but, you’ve seemed like you need some company.”

her voice was softer than you’d ever heard it. you tilted your head as you studied her for a few moments, debating on whether you should allow her to try and pick your brain, assuming that she’s going to be talking to a wall like the rest have. noticing you’ve been taking a while, you open the door just enough and step aside for her body to fit through before shutting the door once again.

“i know talking about your life isn’t easy, so i won’t push,” she starts off as she takes in your room, before gesturing to the trinkets you’ve made and the fully finished rubix cube that sits on your bedside table. “these are cool, did you make them all?” you looked over at them and hummed softly before nodding your head in agreement. “yeah, yeah i did.”

she hums as she spares you a slightly bigger smile than she had outside your door just minutes prior. “did one of them… tell you to come talk to me?” you couldn’t help but ask, you were mutual with each avenger but there were a handful of them that didn’t spare you more than small talk if you happened to run into each other.

her brows furrow slightly before she meets your eyes. “no, not at all. i’ve actually been worried about you myself. a very bright soul that’s comfortable around everyone in this building suddenly became a bit too quiet. i wanted to make sure you didn’t need help with something.” her words were swirling in your ears as she spoke them, her voice taking over you as if it was made of vanilla.

you contemplated for another moment, feeling a weight heavy on your chest as you thought about everything that you had been feeling the past few weeks. letting out a sigh, you took a seat on your messy bed. “i guess, there is… something, that’s been on my mind lately.”

wanda nodded as she took in your posture, before deciding to take a seat next to you on your bed while also keeping enough space for you to not feel suffocated by her presence. you didn’t know why she was the one you had chosen to share your problems with, you barely know the girl. but something about her made you feel like you could trust her with this information.

she eyed you curiously as you struggled to find the words, eventually giving up and deciding just to speak from your mind. “i’ve been having…. feelings lately. they’re different than normal feelings, you could say. all of my friends are, getting married and in really healthy relationships, which is great for them but, that’s not my issue..” you trailed off as you started to get nervous knowing you were just about to come out for the first time.

wanda placed her hand over yours softly, reminding you that she’s listening and that it’s okay. your heart did a somersault at the feeling of her skin against yours, and your stomach erupted in butterflies. all be damned, you realized why you had started feeling this way. what made you question in the first place.

you stared at her for a moment before you started again, “i went down to the coffee shop at the end of the street that i really like, and there was this couple. they were gay, two girls, and they were addicting to look at. i never felt happy staring at a couple until that moment and i…. i think it’s because i’m lesbian.” you looked down, not knowing what sort of reaction to prepare for.

she squeezed your hand softly, a small smile forming on her lips as she chuckled. “that’s okay, i’m gay too. i like girls just like you do, and i didn’t understand why i couldn’t be in love with vision like he is with me, until you came around.” your eyes blew wide at her statement before staring at her once again.

“me? why me?” you were confused. you weren’t anything special, at least not that you knew of. she smiled even wider. “from the second i saw you i was attracted to you. your energy felt good, every time i was near you i could feel you in my veins and it was like magic. not to mention, you’re pretty hot too.” you couldn’t help but let out a chuckle.

you bit your lip nervously as you contemplated before thinking to yourself, fuck it. “i started questioning because of you too.” you squeezed her hand back this time and smiled softly at her, both of your voices were only audible to each other. her smile spread even wider as she looked at you.

“it’s okay to feel this way. it’s not out of ordinary either, so don’t say you’re not normal. don’t worry about everyone else either, if you don’t wanna tell them, it’s none of their business. this stays between you and i, okay?” she tilted her head at you as you processed the delicate reassurance.

you let out a breath of relief. “t-thank you, wanda. it means a lot that you let me talk to you.” she scrunches her nose before quietly speaking again, “you’re welcome.” she delivered a kiss to your cheek, which prompted yours to turn pink.

she got up from your bed beside you and walked towards your door, looking at you one last time for the night. “see you in the morning, y/n.” she smiled at you and departed your room, leaving you to your own feelings. you touched your cheek and could feel all kinds of adrenaline rush through your veins. what was she doing to you?

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

𝙨𝙚𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙙 𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙧’𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚: thank you all for reading! i was just blotting words on the screen at 3 am but i hope it was a least a little enjoyable. as i get back into writing again i’ll have better ideas, but i thought this was a decent start. i love you all! <3

[persianflaw]

ATTENTION ALL PERSONNEL!

ATTENTION ALL PERSONNEL! The M*A*S*H fanfiction community has been approved! actually it was approved two weeks ago but i was on vacation

This community is open to any and all fans of M*A*S*H fic. Whether you're a writer, a reader, or a total newbie, this space is for you! You can talk about fics you've loved, ask for advice about a sticky plot point in your latest WIP, ask for recommendations for a ship you like, share an AO3 link to your latest fic, or share snippets from your work; the world is your oyster!

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[jhoneybees]

Special gift

Hello Hello! I'm back dollies :) Here's a cute little fic! It's been a while since I've posted a fic so I do apologise😬 and with the desire part 2 I am writing it! but I'm gonna be shelving that for a bit because I'm not in that thirsty mood at the moment lol I've been craving some sweet fluffy Elvis! Enjoy!

Tags: @elvisalltheway101 my doll!

Characters: Highschool 50s!Elvis X reader

Warnings/triggers: I'd say nothing but if you spot something, please comment!

_____________________________________________

Gosh. His eyes, the waves of deep blue rippling into that icy blue around those dark pupils, increasing and decreasing in size. You really could get lost in them, you have to be careful though, you wouldn't want to fall in love…would you?

Well for your case, yes. You're in love, you're madly in love with a pretty boy. With how he skillfully combs back his hair into a duck tail and how his bottom lip juts out just a bit when he's deep in concentration, you're just melting at just the thought of him, of Elvis Presley.

He's everything you're looking for in a man, a future husband you hope and dream. He’s kind, caring, funny, generous, courteous, and humble. It goes on and on and on and you wouldn’t be panting by the endless list at all because you'll be too busy listing off every praise in the universe. Your mind is just filled with everything Elvis, in every single nook and cranny.

_____________________________________________

Closing the locker door with a tinny slam, your eyes drift to the boy of your dreams. Just standing there with nobody accompanying him, you take the chance to admire him, admiring how his ever growing chest hairs peek out from behind his white short sleeved button up, his lean biceps fill out those sleeves so nicely and his simple black slacks just had to make you hitch a breath, they compliment his long legs so well.

You really do dream of approaching Elvis someday, to finally confess your love that you've been bottling up ever since the first day you saw him but you're shy, so shy that you'd be a shaking leaf just asking a teacher for directions to the art classroom and not only that, you're scared of rejection, you know everyone else is too but it still doesn't change your mind to have the courage to walk up to Elvis Presley and blurt out the three words.

As you sigh and grip your books closer to your chest in longing, his eyes pierce into yours. You didn't know he could stop time because the brief moment of the both of you staring feels like the bustling crowds around you just freeze.

Trying to take an even deep breath, you swallow thickly as he strides towards you. Your wrists ache at the growing pressure against the edges of the books but you don't care because all you're thinking is if your knees are about to collapse at the blessing of seeing Elvis' shy but also charming grin.

“You're Y/n, right?” he asks.

You nod quietly and he breathes out a shy chuckle, stuffing his hand into his pocket, he nods back and you're guessing, out of nervous habit, he scratches the back of his neck.

“I-I’m Elvis…and uh- This m-m-might sound crazy but uh- I've seen you around these places and thought you're real pretty” he states.

He thought you're pretty? No. Real pretty? Oh your dreams must be having a real good time, you can't bring yourself to believe that, he couldn't possibly think that, he's got so many other girls who are far prettier than you that he could choose from, right?

“And uh- ah can't keep my head f’om shuttin’ up to ask ya if ya..uh.. w-w-wanted to go on a date with me?” his eyebrows raise just the slightest bit.

A date?! You? He’s asking you on a date? You swear, you're hearing wedding bells in your head and not the ones from the church a few blocks down that you'd willingly get married in if he asked you to or you're preferred choice, wanted to.

This can't be real, right?

“Y-you don't gotta say yes if ya don't wanna but just thought ah’d better take someone like you out before I regret myself”

He stammers with his head lowering towards his chest and rubbing the back of his neck with a small crooked smile.

Your overly religious parents would scold you for using his name in vain but…

Oh God

Gulping again for- you think, the 20th time. You clutch your books even tighter than before, fully aware that it would definitely leave red marks on your skin. Trying your best to not appear overly shy, you grip at that ounce of courage and give Elvis a small smile.

You've been dreaming of this.

“I-I’d love to”

_____________________________________________

Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, OH. MY. GOSH.

You're going on a date with Elvis Presley…

You're going on a date with Elvis Presley!

As you close your bedroom door and plop your books down on your desk, you gasp softly in your hands in absolute shock. How did you land on such luck? Or whatever it is. Turning yourself around, you sit at the end of bed and dig your face deeper into your hands.

Trying to process your thoughts but of course, all you could ‘process’ is the image of Elvis, the guy that walked up to you. The boy who asked you on a date!

“Ah!!” You squeal, slamming yourself back on the bed, kicking your feet in the air with so much excitement.

Your hands dragging down your face don't do anything to your big smile, you're just amazed, in awe, so in love.

Then a thought comes into your head. What are you gonna give to Elvis as a token of appreciation?

Others might not think of anything like that but to you, it feels necessary. Elvis is taking time out of his day to take you out so why wouldn't you give him something for such a kind gesture?

_____________________________________________

“Thank you…”

You smile as Elvis helps you out of the car, your small hands held by his large ones, you feel calluses on his fingertips from what you know and saw, playing his guitar during lunch breaks and occasionally at the local park on weekends. Their firmness slightly nudges at the back of your hand, the warmth just engulfing your hand cosily. You couldn't be more satisfied at just the slightest touch from him.

Then as he leads you down the wide dirt and grassy track, you grip your knuckles together.

He didn't tell you where you were both going in Riverside Park for this date and as much as you adore and love Elvis, you're a little concerned but as you two near the riverbank and Elvis turns to you with a sweet boyish smile on his face. Your concerns wash away instantly.

“M’sorry this date ain't shiny and lavish…” he chuckles nervously.

“No, this is lovely, Elvis” you say softly, returning a smile.

You wouldn’t have this date any other way, it’s everything you’ve been dreaming of. Getting to sit beside the river with him, being in each other’s company, it’s perfect to you.

You have seen him with other girls at school before and when you saw how much of a gentleman he was to them just makes your heart stab itself with an arrow and you thought you know every kind gesture he does but he’s full of surprises because when he started taking off his jacket and laying it down on the grass, he had the audacity to melt your heart for the 100th time in the span of just 2 weeks.

“Don’t wanna get your pretty skirt dirty”

Of course with that little grin that you have memorised every detail from.

He is just…everything.

The conversation just flows so effortlessly and after some time it begins to fizzle out and you both sit in pleasant silence, you look out at the slow moving, crisp water and when you don’t expect it you both breathe in the fresh air at the same time. Whipping your heads around and bursting into a fit of giggles.

You want to spend your life with him.

Your mind runs with thoughts of how lovely this simple date is and when you turn to look at Elvis’ face, you accidentally let out a tiny gasp which you hope Elvis didn’t hear but of course he did. Turning to look at you with a slow growing smile and piercing blue eyes that ping through into your heart. You wouldn’t be surprised if he started laughing at your poor little heart thumping a thousand miles per hour.

Panting so much that its cheeks would flush a brighter red than it already is.

“Enjoyin’ yer time?” he asks with raised eyebrows, creating those cute little wrinkles on his forehead.

You nod with a small smile, hoping he wouldn’t notice how your cheeks grow a bit pink, almost like the same colour as his socks that are slightly exposed under his brown slacks.

He looks back at the water and you do the same. After a little while, you remember the thing you made for him. Quietly moving your arm, you dig in your skirt pocket and pull out a beaded bracelet with a colour scheme that you hope Elvis would like. Baby blue and gold. Finishing off with a white bead in the middle with a little gold encrusted heart on it.

“Um..Elvis?”

Your heart sighs at how he softly hums in response, turning to look at you with slow wandering eyes.

“Yeah?”

Holding in your breath, you close your eyes for a brief moment. You really do hope he’ll like it, you did work very hard on this little bracelet but if you had to be honest, you wouldn’t complain if he just throws it into the water and yells at you because it’s not much, It’s really not much compared to him using the fuel in his daddy’s car to drive you here and take time out of his precious day but you still like to hope.

Holding the small token in your hands, you lower your chin towards your chest. Gulping nervously at the non existent saliva in your desert-dry mouth.

“I-It’s not much but uh… I made you this a-as a thank you gift for- bringing me here a-and taking time o-out of your day- uhmp-” you stutter and with a bit of bravery and courage, you thrust your hands out more towards his chest.

Your heart almost jumps at the unexpected chuckle and your hands begin to tremble as you feel his fingertips brush your palm, picking up the homemade gift with a crooked grin on his handsome face. Your hands fall onto your lap, your brain shivering in delight. He’s so delicate and gentle at how he’s holding the bracelet and you just melt at how he takes the time to admire every single little bead that you know damn well costed you $1.50 for a small pack and the small gold encrusted heart being your only special bead that you didn’t want to use for anything that isn’t special, yes it’s not actual gold but you just thought a while ago that there could be a possible chance of a real special moment that this little bead would fit perfectly in which this moment is just that.

“Aw Y/n…that’s real sweet of ya, thank you” he drawls, still looking at the bracelet in hand. Shaking his head with a bigger grin, you quietly watch as he shimmies his hand through the bracelet, starting to doubt if it’s even going to fit, but it snaps in place and moulds around his wrist perfectly and as he looks up at you, you swear you felt your nerves in your body shut down for a split second.

Then your breath hitches as his hand softly and gently picks up your hand. This can’t be happening. Watching his hand lift yours up to his lips, his baby blues peering up at you, he places a delicate kiss on the back.

“...I love you”

[vibratingskull]

Hiiii I love your fics so much that I'm genuinely suffering from Yandere Thrawn Brainrot 😭 can I pretty please request Yandere Thrawn x fem reader where the reader is just accepting of his behaviour? like maybe she's a rebel who has been just abandoned by her friends so she just gives in because actually the attention he gives is really nice when she behaves or maybe she's one of the emperors daughters who is always kind of forgotten about in comparison to her sisters so Thrawns attitude isn't a red flag for her because he treats her so nice and has never once sidelined her or forgotten anything about her! I just think it's an interesting idea to play with like I'm sure Yandere Thrawn would be ecstatic to have a partner who doesn't bat an eye to his behaviour and soaks it up desperately, even the brothel fic you made could fit with Yandere Thrawn (look at how bad the brainrot is LMAOOOOO) ofc I'd have to request some smut in it like maybe he eats her out on his command chair 🤭 (that's all I can think about since the last Yandere thrawn AU you just posted haha make it as crazy as you want it to be tbh I love giving you full reign over this your smut is like high quality wine for me at this point!) Anyways! Before I get completely off track and send you a whole essay of ideas I just wanna say that I cheered when I saw your requests open and you don't have to write this idea or if you prefer to tweak it then that's absolutely fine! I hope you're doing amazing and I'm looking forward to your beautiful creations!!!

Yandere Thrawn is best boy, you cannot change my mind! He can be a murderous psycho or a complete puppy if you play your cards well. Aaaaaaaw thank you dear ❤️❤️❤️❤️ I'm really happy you like my silly stuffs, even the smutty ones (i'm so not confident about those), it will be a 2 parters !

ThrawnxF!reader

Tags: Yandere behavior (duh), possessive, painting, meet cute

You sigh, sitting alone at the table. You make your drinks twirl in your glass, silently observing the ballroom. Your hand supporting your chin you look at the couples dancing, the lively discussions around the room, the laughs and smiles, the kisses exchanged behind closed doors, and the champagne flowing freely. 

You catch one of your sisters dancing with a suitor, a metal and gaz magnate infinitely rich, they have been glued to one another during the entire party. You turn your head to see another one leading a political discussion with her natural charm, they all laugh at her witty comebacks and believe every word she speaks like gospel. You turn again to see your third sister on the stage, singing softly a beautiful melody, admired by the rest of the audience. 

And then there is you... 

The fourth. 

The last one. 

You do not have the charisma, the talent, or the political gene to rival any of your sisters. No one knows what to do with you. Everyone planned a beautiful future for all your three sisters to make the Empire shine brighter but you? Nobody has any idea. All your professors searched for a secret talent, a hidden jewel, hoping you are simply a late bloomer. 

But nothing came. 

Oh, you tried. You tried so hard! Spending sleepless nights working on your studies to at least hope for a well-made brain. But you are so average, both in looks and intellect. Nothing shines about you, nothing is worth noting. 

You sigh and finish your drink. 

Your only little quirk is your paintings. That’s the only thing distinguishing you from your sisters, you not failing art class. It is quite fondly regarded when you’re five but when you’re an adult princess of the Empire you need other qualities and skills than a good brush move. 

You just wanted to go to art school and live simply, not that overdramatic life wrapped in politics and secrecy. You wish not for the power and the riches, they bring you too much headaches. You want to leave the Palace, find a small apartment, get a cat, and for everyone to forget your existence and leave you in peace. 

But no... Not a chance. 

This very party is a shining example. It is officially a diplomatic meeting between high political top hats but the true goal of your father is to show off his daughters in the hope you find a future husband, wealthy and powerful, and then marry you off. 

Nothing more. Nothing less. 

You are a prop to your father’s politics. Good to lure a man and his funds into the imperial bank. 

And right now you are failing spectacularly. Now that you mind per se, but the man you call father and emperor will inevitably learn about that and you don’t want to anger him. You still value your life. 

You sigh again mentally preparing yourself to stand up and try to “seduce” men, feeling a headache rising, when- 

“Will you allow me to join you?” A rich deep voice makes you turn your head. 

Grand Admiral Thrawn, a hand on the back of the other chair of your table, is looking at you with a small grin and sparkling eyes. 

“Oh...” You can only say, surprised for him to spawn out of nowhere, “I mean yes! Of course Grand Admiral.” 

“Thank you, your majesty.” He bows his head. 

He elegantly sits down next to you. Even his manners are impeccable, full of grace and dexterity. You feel so slow and clumsy next to him. You see his long, delicate fingers hovering over the canapes before choosing one and lifting it to his mouth to bite into it.  

Maker, even Military officers are more dignified than you... You subconsciously straighten your back to at least match the energy he brings to the table, trying not to appear too sluggish.  

You know this man for being the first and only alien to have reached the Grand Admiral rank, which is really impressive, you will give him that. He always struck you as a balanced and polite man. He revealed himself as an art enjoyer on your first meeting and very nicely proposed himself as a model for male anatomy. You accepted and you meet every other month when he comes back from his campaigns. He lets you draw and paint his body in silence for long hours before coming to take a look and give you advice from time to time. 

And then he leaves. And that’s the end of that. 

Or it is the end of your relationship because he seems to roam around the residency aisle of the palace a lot. Numerous times you caught the back of his head disappearing behind a corner when you left your studio after a long painting session. You have no idea what he comes here for in the residency wing of the Palace, nothing interesting for a Grand Admiral around here. 

As a matter of fact, you do have an idea why he comes to this part of the Palace, you suspect he comes to visit one of your sisters regularly. And he must be seriously enamored for risking the wrath of the Emperor! You don’t even want to imagine his reaction if he discovered the Alien got access to one of his dear eldest! 

You just hope the sister in question takes her precautions to not get caught. 

That would also be a huge waste for the Grand Admiral, if an alien such as him managed to reach this rank it means he must be terribly good at what he does! Not that the Emperor shares any tactical info with you, his daughters, it is a simple observation. And he looks rather dashing too... Your vain side would be devastated to learn such a handsome man would be executed, that would be such a loss for the Galaxy you nod to yourself. 

You remain silent, observing the guests and your sisters shining in their dresses and jewelry. They are so radiant, you think with envy. Typically the type of women a man as handsome as the Grand Admiral would pursue, they are in the same league. 

Contrary to you. 

You start feeling a tingle at the back of your neck and you turn your head to discover Grand Admiral Thrawn silently looking in your direction smiling softly. You spin your head again to see what he might be watching with such tenderness in his red gaze, only to see... 

Nothing?  

You frown. 

“It is you I am looking at.” Thrawn’s deep voice rises again, with a touch of controlled amusement. 

You turn back to him with an embarrassed smile. 

“Oh, I just thought you saw... Nothing.” 

He tilts his head slightly. 

“What did you think I saw?” 

“I don’t know, something interesting.” You take your glass to your lips to sip, feeling your throat going dry. 

“But I am looking at something interesting. The most interesting person in this room.” 

Oh okay. 

You know where this is going, you know that sweet sugary tone. 

“What do you want Grand Admiral?” You put your glass back with a clank, “What demand do you want me to ask my father?” 

He cocks his head again, squinting like he didn’t understand your question. 

“I have no demand to ask your father.” 

“Of course you don’t.” You snort. 

They always do that. Come with a sweet voice and a compliment and then beg you to interfere with your father in their favor. 

You are no political genius but you recognize a freeloader when you meet one! 

“You always come to me! You think I am the weakest and easiest to manipulate for your benefit, you come with doe eyes and then ask outrageous demands, in the hope of gaining political powers. Well, I am sorry, go knock on another door!" You speak irritated but low to not start any drama. 

Vice Admiral Thrawn blinks at you. He shakes his head, trying to disarm the situation. 

"I assure you, Your Majesty, I did not come to ask any political favors of any kind.” He reiterates softly, “I simply saw you, so beautifully dressed and dolled up and could not help but come to you.” 

You sniff with disdain. Lies. If he doesn’t want political favors from your father then he wants access again to one of your sister's beds, another classic you had to deal with!  

“I am sorry Grand Admiral.” You say coldly, “I have nothing to give you.” 

His smile widens and you hear a low chuckle. 

“But on the contrary, it is me who wants to give you something, Your Majesty.”   

You look at him suspiciously as he takes something from his pocket. He puts a little box hermetically sealed in front of you. You tentatively take it and open the lid to discover a colorful powder in a tangerine shade. 

You look at him mouth agape and mute with surprise. 

“I heard you needed this shade to finish your latest painting.” He says softly, “I traveled the galaxy and found this powder made from local seashells in an isolated world. I saw it and knew I needed to get it for you.” 

This shade... 

Is the exact one you need, down to a t. 

“How... How did you...?” 

“That is not important, Your Majesty  I know how much you care about this painting and wanted to help you.” 

This painting, you saw it in your dreams. 

It was a flash of a faded memory of your dead mother, smiling at you before the sunset. Long, long ago... 

This powder is the perfect shade for her eyes... 

“Oh dear Maker...” You start sobbing, hiding your mouth behind your hand. 

“Your Majesty?” Grand Admiral Thrawn asks, “Are you all right?” 

You nod, wiping any tear that might have rolled down your cheek, getting back control over your sobs. 

“Yes... Yes. Thank you Grand Admiral, this is a very thoughtful gift.” You smile at him. 

Now you feel dumb to have given him the cold shoulder. 

But how did he know about that painting? You don’t remember talking about it to anyone? You specifically hid it behind a sheet. 

“You are welcome, Your Majesty. It is my pleasure.” 

His hand furtively reaches yours and caresses your finger with the tips of his own. You let him do it. You don’t know why. It is simply not unpleasant... 

“I just thought... I’m going to sound stupid, bear with me, I thought you wanted to use me to get close to my sisters.” You chuckle embarrassed, “It is a bit stupid...” 

“Why would I want to get close to your sisters when you are here?” He asks. 

“Because... I am just me.” You shrug like it is evident, “Nobody knows what to do with me.” 

“I have plenty of ideas of what we could do together.” He whispers, taking your hand gently to kiss it, his red eyes looking brazenly at you. 

You feel heat spreading on your cheeks. 

“Vice Admiral!” You choke “How dare... We are in the middle of a ballroom!” You chastise him. 

“We can leave anytime you desire...” He licks your knuckles with the tip of his warm tongue, looking insolently at you. 

You feel yourself melting into a puddle at that gaze on you. So many unchaste images cross his read shining eyes while devoring you. You feel stripped naked before him. You gulp and turn your head away, you cannot hold his gaze, you feel like you’re about to combust. 

He chuckles and kisses your hand again. 

“I am merely joking, Your Majesty. I know you cannot simply fool around with any man. But maybe  you will allow me this dance?” He stands up, still holding your hand but awaits your response. 

You gingerly look at him. Dear Maker, he is so tall... 

He looks at you with a small smile, gently squeezing your hand. 

“I... Can allow one dance.” You concede. 

“You are so generous with me, Your Majesty. I thank you.”  

He helps you stand and guides you to the dancefloor, his warm hand on your lower back. He spins toward you and grabs your hand, pressing your two bodies together. 

“Hold on to me, Your Majesty.” He says sensually. 

And he makes you spin and twirl on the dancefloor, holding you so close you can feel his high body warmth through your clothes. He is a very, very good dancer you realize.  

The dance starts normal and modest as it should be but it slowly dissolves into... something else.  

You can feel his large hands roaming your entire body, playing with the straps of your dress, raising the hem of your dress to touch your naked thigh, he grabs the pin and frees your hair in your back, he grabs your hips to press them against his in a sultry move, almost grabbing your butt... 

It feels like he is making love to you, fully clothed and in public. You fail to put a stop to it and protect your modesty, he is just so good at it that you blindly follow him, losing track of time. 

You gulp, losing your breath as he makes your head spin dangerously. He never once stops looking at you, devouring you with his shiny rubies, hunger lying deep in them. 

You are breathless, straps down your shoulders, your skirt high on your thighs and your legs trembling terribly, threatening to give out under you if Grand Admiral Thrawn wasn't holding you firmly against his tall body. 

“Gra.. Grand Admiral...” You can only say. 

“Is there a problem, Your Majesty? We are simply dancing, like I promised we would only do.” 

“This is not a dance! This is...” You try to get angry at him but your beating heart only pumps blood to your cheeks even more. 

“You did not stop me once.” He tilts his head, “If you said no I would have stopped immediately.” 

“Someone could see us! Someone-” 

“There are a lot of people around us. They hide you perfectly, no one will ever know. You can let go entirely, let me guide you...” He whispers sultrily in your ear.  

His hand on your back slowly caresses his way down towards your butt and his hand on your leg slowly brushes his way up towards your crotch. 

This... This is so indecent! 

So scandalous! 

So obscene! 

So... 

You should slap him across the face and ditch him there but you want more of it. You feel fire starts in your loin, slowly spreading in your veins, coursing through your entire body.  

Quite unexpectedly he lets you go. You look at him without understanding, he grins and kisses your hand gallantly again. 

“Have a nice evening, Your Majesty. Thank you for this... Delicious moment. I will see you for our next modeling session.” He rolls his ‘R’ like a purr and leaves. 

Did he... 

Is he the one who ditched you? At the height of the tension? When you were about to say ‘yes’ to him? You remain standing still in the middle of the dancefloor, mouth agape, breathless, hair and dress in a mess. You walk back to your seat, your legs wobbly at every step. 

You feel played. 

How dares he come around to set you on fire and just leave you, arms dangling, craving for so much more?! Such a ... Tease! You readjust your dress modestly, making sure none of your sisters saw anything of this... Outrageous display. None of them are looking in your direction, they are fully focused on their friends or songs. 

You sigh, feeling like an idiot. Typically a thing that wouldn’t have happened to your sisters, they would have either put a stop to it or enchanted him so much that he would have dropped to his knees, begging for more of them. 

You're the only one dunce enough to get played like that. 

But... You cannot help but like it. It felt good to be someone’s center of the universe, even for two fleeting minutes, feeling his daring hands exploring your body so... immodestly. No man ever treated you like that, even less a man so handsome... 

You shake your head. Stop that! It is blind lust speaking. 

Your eyes lay down on the little box. You reopen it, to be sure of its content. Exactly the pigment you needed, the exact shade and vibrance...  

How did he know? 

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

The first time he saw you was during an Imperial ceremony, from far away. The youngest of all the daughters, dressed in gold, pearls, and Orichalc. He was still a simple commodore back then, without as much power to himself. He was from very far away, not able to discern the features of your face, but it was clear from your body language and posture you didn’t want to be here. 

Like himself. 

Pryce was unavailable, a rarity for a shark like her to miss a political event like that, but she pressed him to go, to form alliances with as many senators as possible. How on the Warrior’s Blue Csilla was he supposed to do that? He is surrounded by sharks and snakes ready to eat each other for their selfish benefits, something so beyond him he simply forgets this is actually a thing people do instead of worrying for the good of the many... 

Saying he was terrified would be false, but saying he was comfortable would be a lie.  

It takes a lot to make him uncomfortable, but politicians always do the trick.  

So in a weird way, he felt kinship towards you. He knew nothing about you, he was not even sure of your rank at that very moment, but like him, you wished you weren't there at that moment. 

The massive difference was that he was anonymously sitting in the grandstand while you were on the big stage, to be looked at and admired like a pretty doll by everyone else. How uncomfortable it must feel... He felt sorry for you. 

Despite your discomfort, you accomplished your duties with grace, obeying your role. It was commendable of you.  

“Who are those young ladies on the side of the stage?” He leaned towards his sit neighbor. 

“Do you live under a rock? They are the Emperor’s daughters, the Imperial princesses.” He got chastised. 

He nodded thankfully and returned to his silent observation of the ceremony. 

It was not so long in retrospect, but isolated on this stage it must have felt like an eternity for you. 

After the ceremony was the real challenge for him, for two hours he had to remain comfortably seated in silence to observe a stage, now he was truly meant to go out of his way and meet politicians.  

He had to take refuge to the buffet or the corners of the room more than one time. Why can’t he read and anticipate politicians’ maneuvers? Why was he so blind to this type of warfare? After a new uncomfortable discussion that ended up with him pissing off his interlocutor because they couldn’t meet eyes to eye he caught a cozy area, almost hidden behind heavy curtains with sofas and a fountain, isolated from the rest of the busy party. He entered, hoping to find some peace and quiet but he found a young woman here, dressed in gold, pearl, and Orichalc. 

“Your Majesty.”Thrawn bowed respectfully, “I did not want to disturb your peace, I will leave.” He immediately excused himself and turned to go away 

When... 

“You may stay, sir.” You simply responded, not even looking up from your drink twirling in your glass. “I do not mind...” 

“I thank you, Your Majesty.” He bowed again and took a seat. 

Not on the same sofa as you, it would be terribly improper to impose his presence on a woman like that. He chose one a little removed from you to leave you in peace. 

He was gathering his thoughts, but you kept catching his eyes, something about you was...interesting him. And he didn’t know what, nor the true nature of his interest in you. 

“What?” You asked out of the blue, “You keep giving me side glance, you never saw a woman before?” 

“My apologies, Your Majesty. It was impolite of me” 

“Yes, it is. My father killed men for less than that.” You added acidic. 

Something in your tone and demeanor... Like a heavy lassitude, like you were crushed by something. But what? 

“I will keep it in mind, then. Thank you for the warning, Your Majesty.” 

You sniffed with disdain before looking back down to your drink. 

“So it’s you....” You finally added after several minutes of silence, “the Navy’s favorite pet.” 

He turned back his gaze to you, squinting. 

“The Navy’s pet?” He repeated politely. 

“The only alien in the Navy, and a Commodore at that. You pissed off a lot of people, my congratulations.” 

He was not able to judge if you were sincere or sarcastic. 

“I do my best to do my job. But some people never seem satisfied, I cannot do anything more to content them, I am afraid.” He humbly admits. 

“Like me.” You let out with a little voice. 

You did not say more and he did not pryied. 

“Why are you not enjoying the party, Your Majesty?” He asked, curious, “Your sisters are getting their fill.” 

You snarled in response. 

“If you came here to flaunt my dear sisters in my face you can leave, sir.” 

“My apologies, Princess. I was simply curious why a young adult would not enjoy such a party.” He explained. 

You turned your head and for the first time your gazes crossed. 

“What about you? You do not seem the type to enjoy parties either.” 

“My young years are behind me.” 

You frowned. 

“Are they?” 

Well technically he is still considered rather young for Chiss standards with their longer lifespan but for humans, he is middle-aged. But you don’t know that. 

“I am over 45.” He informed you. 

The way your beautiful human eyes rounded up in surprise was quite delectable. 

“You’re kidding.” 

“I am not.” 

“You barely look 35.” You responded astonished. 

He came to understand it was a compliment on his physical appearance. Something he was not used to. 

“I thank you, your Majesty. You look ravishing yourself.” 

He stopped dead. Was ‘ravishing’ too much? How do you respond politely to a woman appreciating your physical appearance, and what is the proper and polite response when that woman is an Imperial Princess? 

You gauged him up and down before exploding laughing. 

Not one of those overly musical and false laughs of politicians and freeloaders, a true, pure, and sincere fit of laughter. Something coming directly from the heart. 

Something fresh. 

He remained still, not knowing how to react. Your laugh was quite pleasant to hear, and the smile you tried to hide behind your hand enhanced your features gracefully.  

“Oh Maker.” You breathe to calm down, “You are quite funny, sir!” 

He failed to see what was funny in his response but he was not starting to question a Princess. You sighed deeply, still shaken by the remnants of your laugh. At least you were smiling now, that heavy sentiment hovering over you seemed to have disappeared. At least for now. 

“Thank you, your Majesty.” He diplomatically responded. 

“So tell me truly, why did you come hiding here?” You asked, a bit more lively. 

This time he was the one looking down at his drink for a fleeting moment. 

“Politics... Evade me entirely.” He finally reveals. 

“Same.” 

He looked at you curiously. 

“But you are a Princess of the Empire.” 

“That doesn’t mean I can lead. I dislike politics. I prefer my studio.”  

A studio? The type he is hoping for? 

“What type of studio?”  

“Oh ... Just.” You gave him a side glance and lowered your gaze, embarrassed “No. You will find it stupid.” 

“I will not judge, Your Majesty.” He solemnly declared. 

“I ... Paint. A little...”You revealed, fidgeting your fingers. 

His heart jumped and all of his social anxiety and restraints lifted up like a cloud. You paint? It’s marvelous news! He loves paintings, why not tell him sooner? 

“This is not stupid, Your Majesty. Art is a very noble and respectable hobby, I am a humble art enjoyer myself.” He explained calmly, keeping his growing enthusiasm on a leash. “Would you have pictures of your work to show me by any chance?” He daringly asked 

You looked at him absolutely horrified.  

Please, do not look at him like that...It displeases him, even though he doesn’t quite know why. 

He likes it when women are comfortable with him, it is gratifying to be perceived as a protector. He wants you to feel relaxed around him. 

Especially you 

For some unknown reasons... 

“I... No!” You hurriedly responded. 

He tilted his head. He wanted to see some of your work. It is so important for artists to be seen and perceived for them to flourish in their talents. 

He just wanted to give you a positive boost... But you denied him. 

“I understand.” He responded, a bit disappointed to have lost this opportunity to speak about art. 

You looked at him, embarrassed before rising on your feet to close the curtain entirely, giving the little salon a cozy and very intimate atmosphere. You took out your imager of your little purse and approached him shyly, suddenly self-conscious. 

He looked at you approaching with an impassible expression, but hope constricted his heart. 

“Do you promise to not mock me?” You asked like you weren't an Imperial Princess with significant powers. 

No. At this very instant you were a shy, but hopeful young artist, ready to expose herself intimately to a fellow art enjoyed, pressing your imager against your chest.  

You were taking a leap of faith... 

And he was ready to catch you in his arms. 

“I never mock an artist, Your Majesty.” He declared with all the serious in the world. 

You gulped and sat down next to him, handing him the imager with a slightly trembling hand. 

“This is not very good...” You warned him. 

Who cares? If you are a beginning artist with a low level he will be more than happy to give you references and art currents to study to help you in your art journey. 

But you were actually really good with a brush. No need to get all shy about it, you should be proud of your paintings! 

You studied a lot of subjects and tried a lot of different techniques and materials, your style could be soft and appeasing with pastel colors, bold and brash with vibrant brush strokes, or gloomy and eerie, creating a haunting atmosphere. 

But no matter how different your paintings might be there was one very clear constant for him. 

Your innate good and soft nature. 

Not in a fragile or virginal way, no. But something bright, shining like a real sun, luminous, warm, inescapable, and unstoppable... 

How could you be Emperor Palpatine’s daughter? 

How was that possible? 

He silently observed your work under your worried gaze, awaiting his judgment. It is clear you hid this part of yourself from everyone else, and maybe he was the very first person who took interest in your hobby, the very first one you let gaze upon yourself so intimately like that... 

Because it was very intimate, he knew it. He stripped your soul naked before him and he ogled without any shame, taking as many details as he could. 

And he very much liked what he saw. 

Where were gentle souls like yours in the galaxy? They appeared so rare and he would very much appreciate one in his life. A friend honest and deeply good by nature... 

That sounds terribly enticing to him. 

He knew nobody on Coruscant, spending his entire leaves in art galleries. But maybe now he could visit them with a nice company at his arm? Simple rendezvous filled with passionate discussions about art, speaking and debating a subject until you both lose your voices and only look into each other eyes to continue the discussion. 

That sounds terribly nice... 

But you are a Princess and him a Commodore. How would that work? He was not even sure he had the right to be in the same room as you.  

But the idea was just so nice... An art partner, being friends with an actual artist, getting to witness the intricate process of creating a masterpiece.  

That is just so alluring to him... 

“So?” you asked with a short breath. 

“This is high-quality work, Princess. You have an undeniable talent and obviously worked really hard to get to this level.” He praised, “I can only encourage you to continue.” 

“You think... I could live on my brush one day?” You inquired, hope lying in your voice. 

“It is a real possibility, I can see it happening.” He nodded with a tight encouraging smile. 

“... Thank you.” You let him knew, “I...” 

You seemed to be about to say something else but suddenly jumped on your feet, the heat signals of your face through the roof. 

“I need to go! Good evening Sir!” And like that you left him, speechless, still holding your precious imager. 

Maybe the tension of showing your art to someone else for the first time was too much for you. This was quite endearing and he let out a little chuckle amused. 

He resumed his art exploration on your imager, he will find a way to send it back to you. 

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

He didn’t sent it back. 

He kept it, he has it every day in his inner pocket, close to his heart. He rummages through it when he can, seeing you through the pictures, getting to know you through each paint stroke.  

He innocently thought about you two becoming art friends to satisfy his knowledge cravings, but instead, he developed an... interesting bound with you. 

Without your knowledge.  

He tried several times to come to see you at your art studio to give it back, only to remain at the door, silently spying on you painting through the cracked door. 

He wished not to disturb the holy inspiration flow so precious to artists. He would break your entire rhythm if he knocked at the door and stopped you. 

How could he dare disturb the process of art? Especially yours? So he remained at the door for long hours until you decided to exit the room or he heard someone come by. 

When you weren’t here he forced the door open to tidy up the place and look at your last pieces. 

But one day you were simply preparing yourself to paint so he entered. Unannounced, unwanted he walked in like he owned the place. You didn’t see him at first, focusing on your flimsy sheets when you raised back on your feet to discover him observing your latest piece with attention, his hand holding his chin, appreciating every detail. 

“Oh dear Maker!” You jumped back. 

He turned his head to you with a tight smile. 

“My apologies, Princess.” He said not at all sorry. 

“What are you doing here?!” You asked in some sort of panick. 

“Your father requested my presence today, and I had hoped to be able to catch you paint.” He mundanely explained it like it was evidence. 

“And why is that?” You asked suspiciously, hiding some sketches behind you. 

“My apologies Princess, I got ahead of myself. I have something belonging to you and wanted to give back.” 

He took out the small imager of his pocket to hand it to you. He already has several copies and backups of all your art. 

“My imager!” You shouted, relieved. “Where did you get it?” 

“You actually gave it to me years ago when I was still a Commodore.” He explains gently. 

You took the imager back and looked in the gallery, with an elated smile.  

“I don’t think I ever caught your name, Mister.” You raise back your clear gaze at him. 

Of course, you knew his name, he was the only alien of the fleet, surely his name traveled the corridors of the Palace and he knew it. But Politeness and etiquette demanded you asked. 

And you are a very polite woman. 

He put his right hand on his heart and bowed to you. 

“I am Vice Admiral Thrawn. I am delighted to meet you again, Your Majesty.” 

You elegantly bowed back. 

“I am (Y/n) (L/n).” 

“Are you not a Palpatine?” Thrawn tilted his head. 

You bite your lower lips, like you spoke too much. 

“I... Prefer to identify with  my mother’s name.” You explain. 

“It is a very beautiful name, it suits you marvelously.” He reassured you, “Do you mind if I remain for your next session? I long to observe an artist in their element.” 

“Oh well...” You spin your head towards the holo clock on the wall and all of your glee seems to melt, your smile disappearing, “I am afraid there won’t be a session today... Yet again.” 

Thrawn squinted. 

“Is there a problem, your Majesty?” 

“No its...” You sighed deeply, “Another model ditched me apparently. He should have been here an hour ago...” 

“If you allow me, your Majesty, I can replace him if you wish.” Thrawn proposed immediately. 

“I...” You purse your lips, thinking “I usually book models for three to four hours, are you sure you have that time?” 

“I do today.” He answered politely, hiding his enthusiasm, “By a splendid hasard I have nothing booked for the rest of the day. I can model for you as long as you need.” 

He very carefully planned today’s agenda to have his afternoon and evening free after his visit to the Emperor. It will postpone some operations on the Chimaera, but nothing he cannot catch up on, he made sure of it. 

You hesitated, your gaze traveling from Thrawn’s stern face to your flimsy sheets. 

It is the fifth model ditching you. 

The fifth Thrawn got rid off.  

Cleanly. 

Discreetly. 

When he entered your studio in your absence he got the occasion to detail your work and picked up on your... attraction, towards those young men. 

Something that infuriated him greatly, even though he wasn’t sure why. He never felt like that before, longing for your presence, to get to know you better and well. This is a very new sentiment to him, he desires to be with you, to listen to you talk, to help you, to just be here in the same room as you. You could be silent and still, sitting on a pedestal and he would sit and look at you with all his attention, trying to pierce your secrets. 

Why are you doing that to him? Where does this deep sentiment of covetousness come from? Right now he just wants to grab your hand and flee away from the Imperial Palace with you, take the first shuttle and take off for the never-ending universe, take you far away from that man you call father and Emperor for you both to live free. 

He always feels so cold all day long, but in your vicinity, everything warms up, the ice melts, and the sun dares from its rays on his flesh, bringing him back to life and waking him up from a long coma. Laying his gaze on you he feels like opening his eyes for the first time and taking his first breath. 

Is that... Love? 

Did Cupid finally hit him with an arrow after ignoring him all his life? 

He quite likes how that sounds. 

He wants more. So, so much more... 

But for now, he looked at you hesitating, patient, with a tight polite smile of someone only desiring to help. 

“Well... If it isn’t too much trouble for you, I would appreciate it. What about a portrait to start?” 

“But of course, Your Majesty. I am here to serve.” He bowed his head again deeply pleased that his plan worked. 

He cannot help but wonder, how do you see him? Is he handsome or repulsive to your eyes? Is he powerful or weak? 

He will soon know it through your primary sketches... 

------- 

“What are you thinking about Grand Admiral Thrawn?” You call him back to reality 

Thrawn blinks, realizing he is posing for you once again in your studio. It is quite rare that he lets his memories take the forefront of his mind but his mind drifted off observing you painting him like that. 

You took great care to not look at him in the eyes since that party and he is greatly pleased by the turmoil he stirred within you. Today again you cannot look in his direction without your face’s heat signals rising. 

How delectable... 

You draped a long fabric on him and gave him a staff to hold, ordering his pose, and started to paint. Holding the pose is hard but that only pushes him to appreciate art even more. He feels your focused gaze skimming his skin, detailing his muscles, observing the crooks and crannies of his flesh, taking in the different shades of blue of his skin. 

He feels his heart accelerating with your eyes traveling his naked form. 

He never exposed himself in such a way to anybody before. 

It is so intimate. 

So erotic... 

He feels great under your gaze, he feels... Empowered. Like he could become what he was always meant to be under your brush, that through your gaze he truly could realize himself. He feels his chest puffing up with pride and satisfaction. That surge of warmth spreading in his chest and heart when your eyes skim his skin feels so soft and right... 

“You truly have mesmerizing eyes, I hope I will be able to do them justice...” You say almost to yourself, fully focused on your sketch. 

“We could do a series of portraits after, you could study them in detail.” He proposes. 

“Thank you Grand Admiral.” You smile. 

“Please, call me Thrawn, Your Majesty. I am a simple man at your art service in this room.” 

“Then call me (Y/n).” You decide, “Let’s just be a man and a woman for this afternoon.” 

“I simply cannot, Your Majesty. You are an Imperial Princess, I cannot address you with such familiarity.” He counters. 

Who is he to address you so casually? He will not strip you down of your titles and grandeur.  

You pout, visibly displeased by his response. 

“All right...” You say very disappointed. 

He clenches his jaw, conscious of his misstep. 

“If you truly desire it, I will address you as you wish (Y/n).” He responds softly. 

But in his mind he will keep using your titles, they suit you so well. 

You nodd enthusiastically, relieved by his new response. 

“Do you want to take a look?” You ask. 

He descends from the pedestal and passes on a gown to modestly cover himself, but he doesn’t close it, coming to admire your genius on the canvas, discovering himself through your own eyes. 

You take a picture with your imager that he gave back, adding it to your collection. His heart sprints at the view of the imager in a very Pavlovian response. 

He had... other uses for your imager. 

He will never admit it, not even under torture, but... He furiously masturbated several times using your art collection on the imager. He has no rational explanation for it. One day he was terribly bothered, to his utmost inconvenience, and hoped that some nice paintings could distract him. 

But instead  

He just got such a clear picture of you, of your good nature, of your amazingly sweet personality that he became hard like wood, worsening the situation. He found a self-portrait of yourself, looking straight back at him with such a clear and assured gaze... And he just lost it. 

He fisted himself, entranced by those expressive eyes looking brazenly at him. 

He never came so hard before, his entire body struck by lightning, setting fire to his very soul. He was left breathless and disoriented, his large chest rising up and down rapidly, your impudent gaze fixing him intently. 

The high was so high the descent was devastating, leaving him craving more of you, by any means necessary... 

That’s when he decided to enter your studio for the first time. 

Thrawn discovers the canvas. 

He discovers himself slouching regally on a throne like he is presiding over a tedious political case and is about to give his royal judgment. 

You remain a step behind, fidgeting your fingers. 

“What do you think?” You ask a bit worried. 

An idea flashes in his mind, a bad idea, but oh so delicious... 

“Technically very interesting and avant-garde. But there is something...” He teases sadistically. 

“Something? What? What is wrong? What did I do wrong?” You immediately panick. 

“Are you familiar with male anatomy?” He asks, falsely investigating. 

Of course, you are familiar with it, he saw you paint it plenty of times. 

“Yes! I am!” You protest. 

“Let’s see...” He gently takes your hands to place them on his large pecs. 

Your eyes round up in surprise and your breath is caught in your throat. 

“Feel the muscles, how they are built in the body.” He casually instructs while he takes your hands for a jaunt on his body, caressing himself with your soft palms. 

“Hum... Grand Admiral?” You try. 

“Feel where they start and end, where they cross paths and attach to the bones.” He slowly pushes your hands down his abdominals. 

You audibly gasp as he directs your hands on his naked body. While your body heat skyrockets in your embarrassment and confusion, he revels in the softness of your touch and the freshness of your hands on his thick skin. 

Your touch is delightful. Delicate and tender. He has all the pain in the world to not moan in bliss... 

He presses your palms on his abdominals, pushing them farther and farther south. 

“It is very important you understand how the muscles twist and bend.” He lectures you like you didn’t already know that. 

“Grand Admiral...” You press him more and more embarassed. 

He takes a step forward and you take a step back. 

He takes another one and you do the same. 

He finally blocks you against the desk where you keep all your colors and pigments. You jolt when your back hits the wooden table, caged between his half-naked body and the furniture. He stops your hands on his groin region, right above his cock.  

He looks at your flustered face intently, how you evade his gaze and your heat signals are the worst he ever saw. He refrains from licking your face as he so desperately wants to. 

Your sex is irradiating a warm light to his infrared vision, well awake and demanding attention. He takes great pride in the reaction of your body to his daring advances, but you also appear tense. 

“Feel how my male body is different from your female body, feel it deeply... within you...” He whispers, looming forward to press his forehead against yours to look at your eluding gaze. He pulls your hands to wrap your arms around his waist as his own hands come to seize your hips, slightly slipping them under your corseted top to caress your smooth human skin. 

You cannot help the gasp escaping you, shocked to your core but indubitably... interested. Curious and craving for more. 

Still, the uneasy feeling remains in the pearl of your eyes. 

He presses your hips together and rolls his pelvis, delighting himself in your hot and bothered reaction. Your hands are trembling and sweaty but they hold on his lower back. You slowly and timidly raise your gaze to meet his, mouth agape and with a short breath. 

You gulp as he smiles, satisfied.  

Are you a virgin? Will he be your first? 

His heart pumps harder! 

You first... But more importantly your last! 

He lowers himself with a satisfied grin, but right before he is about to kiss you, he suddenly grabs your ass to lift you up and put you on the table, making you yelp in surprise. His hands lift your skirt to caress your round thighs, dividing them open to slide between them swiftly. 

His blood is beating furiously, his hands caressing and exploring your gorgeous body eagerly, mentally pesting against those useless clothes hiding your naked perfection to his burning rubies. You let out a weak moan between precocious fear and irrefutable excitement. 

Your hands circle his shoulders and you dig your nails into his blue flesh, to his utmost pleasure, pulling you tighter towards you. 

Everything comes to a halt as you look into each other eyes with heavy breathing.  

He wants you. 

He craves you. 

And he will have you! 

In one way or another, you will be his and his alone.  

He will rip you out of your father’s claws and build you a life of comfort and love.  He will hold you close and tight, showering you with adoration every day, worshipping at your feet. 

Thrawn taunts you with his lips, hovering them over your parted mouth, making your throat go dry with anticipation. He teases you with a kiss on the tip of your nose, before letting out a low growl as your gazes meet, you cannot help but moisten your plump lips with your tongue with a short breath.  

Thrawn hand seizes your lower back to pull you close and tight against him, his second hand embracing the back of your skull to pull you ever so slightly closer to his tempting grin. 

You look at each other in a suspended moment, listening to each other heavy heartbeat, feeling the sheer tension in the room before Thrawn lowers himself with the intent to kiss you. 

“Please... Do not hurt me...” You ask with a voice so low and feeble he barely hears you, tears in your eyes. 

He stops his motion. 

Why would- 

“Sorry for my late arrival Princess, I-” 

A man enters the studio unannounced, absolutely ruining the moment. You yelp in surprise, pulling on your skirt to cover your bare legs while Thrawn merely turns his upper body towards the intruder to shoot him with his glare, making no effort to cover his modesty. 

The man is clearly embarrassed to have walked in during an intimate moment, but Thrawn wants him more than embarrassed. He wants him repentant and desperate.  

“I am sorry, Sir.” You jump off the table, flustered, pushing your hair behind your ear to put up a front, “Thrawn, I present you Sir Hatway, a curator of an art gallery I invited to judge my art.” You gesture towards the impudent. 

The man clearly doesn't know what to do with himself in front of a naked Chiss. 

“Sir Hatway, this is Vice Admiral Thrawn of the Imperial Navy and one of my favorite model.” 

Thrawn heart speeds up at the compliment, but outside he is still shooting down Hatway, frowning, displeased. 

“Should I... Wait outside, Princess?” The impolite man asks. 

‘Yes he should!’ Thrawn thinks, clasping his hands behind his back. 

“No! No...” You hurriedly respond, “It is all right, you didn’t interrupt anything. We can look at my paintings now.” 

Thrawn gaze slides to you. 

What do you mean ‘didn’t interrupt anything’? He wants to ask impudently.  

He chastises himself. You are an imperial Princess. You cannot just fool around with anyone like that without consequences from your father, you must preserve your reputation. 

The insolent nods unsure, still uneasy, before turning towards Thrawn with a smile he surely hoped to be affable, but honestly is just pathetic. He takes a step forward with his hand extended. 

“Please to meet you Grand Admiral Thrawn.” 

Thrawn consciously takes his time to gauge him up and down from all his height, straightening his back to look at him with all the smugness his rank conferred him. He finally took the man’s hand to shake it. 

“The pleasure is mine, Sir Hatway.” Thrawn tightens his grip until the man winces in pain, “You will obviously not say a word of what you saw.” He asks, deadly cold. 

“N-no, sir. I saw nothing and know nothing...” He pitifully responds 

“Good...” The Chiss nods, venomous. 

“You can go, Grand Admiral.” You say, fidgeting your fingers, still visibly agitated, “We are done for today.” 

“If you allow me, Your Majesty. I am interested to witness your audition.” 

“I...” You bite your lower lips again, thinking, “All right.” You concede. 

When Thrawn exits the changing room in his pristine white uniform, Sir Hatway is no longer the pitiful man who entered the studio. He stands proudly before your paintings, detailing them and judging them imperially. 

You remain a bit behind, full of apprehension and hope. Like the day you showed Thrawn your imager. 

“This is not very good to be honest with you, Your Majesty. This is amateurish at best, and I am being generous.” 

Thrawn stops dead in his tracks. Did he hear right? 

“But I...” You try. 

“It will not be possible I am afraid. You should abandon painting entirely, this is not a world for a fragile flower like you...” 

Thrawn takes a single glance at the painting you are presenting right now. 

Your dear mother’s portrait. 

You spend long hours on this one, pouring your tears and blood in the paint to bring it to life and honor that woman. 

And that... Uncultured fool rejects it?! Calls it amateurish?! Thrawn never saw such passion in a portrait in a long long time! 

He heard enough. 

He walks to the man with three long strides, catching both of your attention. 

“Sir. I will invite you to take back your words immediately.” He said very coldly, camping in front of the fool, towering over him with all his height. 

“Who do you think you are to teach my job?!” The impudent retorted, any traces of the former shy man long gone. 

“Who do you think YOU are?! Is your heart so dry to be so blind before such a shining jewel, before such explicit talent, before such an evident masterpiece? I can not let you say such things.” 

The man looks at Thrawn afraid and confused but sticks to his guns. 

“No! It is my job to evaluate artists that wish to enter our art gallery and she doesn’t have the level expected.” 

“Can you not see she is ahead of her time? That she is avant-garde in so many aspects? I pity your gallery Sir, we must only find mediocrity inside.” 

“Are you insulting me?!”  

“You insulted her first.”  

“Grand admiral please...” You try to calm them both 

Thrawn raises his hand to sush you. 

“She has no talents, and no future in the art world. I am doing her a favor by telling her early.” He bites. 

Thrawn feels about to punch this man. 

Instead, he takes a step back and takes out his pair of gloves from his pocket, and throws them at the impudent’s face. 

“I will protect her honor, I challenge you sir.” 

“What?! No! This is getting ridiculous, stop-” You try to interject again. 

“Fine! Whenever you damn please Alien!” The fool retorts. 

@bluechiss @thrawnalani @justanothersadperson93 @al-astakbar @thrawnspetgoose @readinglistfics @elise2174 @debonaire-princess @twilekchiss @pencil-urchin @ineedazeezee @mssbridgerton @dance-like-russia-isnt-watching @Cortisolcosplay, @obbicrystaleo, @germie2037 @davesrightshoe @holylonelyponyeatingmacaroni @leo4242564

[transmascaraa]

♡!200 followers special!♡

"A valentine's dance."

bf!gaming x gn!reader

author's note: this is basically the longer version of the gaming hcs in my last post aka the valentine's day special ALSO 2nd time ever writing a fanfic shiver me timbers😰 i hope it okay btw i'll draw my (genshin or whatever )oc/self-insert tonight cuz i have school in 2 hours and i have a bit of homework left lol

"thank you, lion dance boy."

You and your boyfriend, Gaming, have been dating for a few months now. He loved you very dearly, just as you loved him. You were an inseparable couple, like you were glued to eachother. But, the relationship that you had was healthy, and really sweet. People talked about your closeness to other people, in the streets. You've overhead them quite a few times now. You were a famous couple in Liyue.

A really special date was approaching. The 14th of February, Valentine's day. A day to show your loved one how much you love them, to give them a gift. It was a heartwarming "holiday", for most. Not everyone, but most. And as soon at it sttarted approaching, the streets were bustling with the names of you and Gaming.

Gaming, he planned a dance show for that day, that night. He invited everyone from Liyue, and even other nations! As promised, he would amaze them and make them smile. But that wasn't all that much important to him. You were.

The whole dance show was actually just made so he could give you a rose in a more romantic and surprising way. Yes, it was a surprise. He didn't mention Valentine's day to you for the whole day, but that night...

When it finally came, that night, you started getting ready. Putting on your best outfit, ready to be looked at and praised by everyone. Was it the outfit, or the whole night? Nobody knows. The outfit was one of Gaming's favorite ones for you to wear. Whenever you wore it, he ended up staring at you too much and blushing more than usual. It was interesting, really. How can such a simple outfit make a man's heart go crazy? Make his blood rush to his face, his cheeks? The human body and mind is really impressive.

As soon as you were done getting ready, you got your bag and went out the door. Going to see your precious boyfriend perform on such a special day.

When you got there, everyone had surprised looks on their faces, but positive ones. They got out of the way, and let you stand in the first row out of the thousands of people in the crowd. Like I said, the two of you were really famous there.

Then, music started playing, the crowd went silent. The lights went out. Rose petals started falling out of nowhere from the sky, making it much more beautiful to look at.

Soon, 3 different lights were on the stage. 3

The 2 of them started dancing. They were dancers. Lion dancers.

It was nice seeing them dance, so many moves and talent. It was worth seeing it.

Eventually they stopped, and the third dancer started dancing. He was Gaming, recognizable even in the night. Flawlessly dancing and moving across the stage, everyone was amazed.

A few minutes passed, and the lights turned on again. The 3 dancers bowing down.

"Happy Valentine's day everyone! Here's a rose to a special person in the crowd!" He threw a beautiful red rose to the crowd, and coincidentally, it landed right in your hands.

Smiling, you spoke, "Thank you, Gaming!" and the performance ended there.

After there were only you and Gaming left there, you read a note that was connected to the rose by a beautiful orange string.

"Happy Valentine's day, [name]!" and just as you read it, Gaming said it himself.

"Thank you again, lion dance boy. I loved the performance."

"You're welcome, it was dedicated to you alone. I'm glad you liked it."

~~~~~

YIPPIEEEE I REALLY LIKE IT

i'm not good at fanfics imo but ig i like this one

adorable gaming frfr

[sentientcave]

Hey friends! I'm Charlie (He/They). Writer, occasional artist, always just some guy. Doing my best, and hoping to get better.

Blank and Ageless Blogs will be blocked.

Requests tentatively open? I should be working on my longer fics but I've been real burned out lately, hoping to spark things back up. I'm lowkey vanilla so don't ask for anything too wild or I'll faint like a scandalized Victorian.

Twitter - AO3 - Ko-fi

~Master List~

Two Graves - Phillip Graves is haunted by the memory of his older brother

Fuck-ass Mohawk - Johnny likes it when you're mean to him (And Ghost does too)

Pompeii//Good Grief - Dealing with loss during a mission gone wrong- Or maybe gone right.

Please, Mommy - A little gender fuckery with everyone's favourite Captain. (FtM Reader, read contents for kink warnings)

And They Were Roommates

Fem!Soap x Fem Reader - You're looking for a roommate, and Jaime Mactavish figures she's the right woman for the job.

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

Heavy Weighs the Crown

Fantasy AU - A princess in self-imposed exile is forced to come home to face the man who took her father's crown and the life she left behind. 141 x Reader.

Chapter Index

Retirement Party

Price has retired from Military life, and he's not handling the change well. But on the one year anniversary of him hanging it up, his boys bring him something special to help keep him busy. You. (Dark fic! Read the content warnings)

Chapter Index

Honey It's Alright

Slasher AU with some of my OCs. Dark fic!! Read the warnings

Part 1

Sadie Blackmoore-Price in

Nobody Does it Better - Sadie and John reconnect for a night

You Only Live Twice (In Progress)

Hit Me With Your Best Shot

When Rory "Scout" Price moves in with her dad after a rough break-up, she's looking forward to reconnecting while she gets her feet back under her. But unfortunately, a post-divorce Kyle Garrick is moving in too, and he seems determined to be a pain in the ass. But then again, he is kind of hot.

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3

Please Say Yes

Starting fresh after a divorce, Chelsea really only has one thing on her mind: Starting a family. But going through the process of dating and marrying another man that could very well be lying about wanting kids, just like the last one, she's determined to make her family all by herself. She only really needs a man for one part of the process, and she has a particular man in mind, her neighbour, one John Price.

Part 1

Let's Riot!

When the Reader St arena gets bought out from under them by Morgan’s vengeful ex, Pippa Graves, The Reader St Riots suddenly find themselves without a practice space. Pippa may say she’ll play nice, but Morgan knows that she’ll either have to get back under Pippa’s manicured thumb or the whole team will be out on their ass in no time. Problem is, the only other practice space around that’s not booked up to the tits belongs to Jo Price, captain of the Femme41, and well… Morgan has a bit of ugly history with her too.

Still, Jo’s at least a little more reasonable than Pippa, and Morgan may hate to beg, but she’d hate to see the Riots disbanded more. And well, maybe there’s room for a little cooperation, especially when their teams get along so well.

Part 1

Sparrowverse

Fics in an extended original character universe. I'll get around to posting Sparrow one of these days.

Cherry Bomb - Nikolai meets one of his Aunt's old school friends and tries not to fall in love.

You Drive Me Wild - Nikolai and Helena meet again three years later

WIP WEDNESDAY BAYBEE

Snippets and previews of things in the works

Rugby - Rugby Again - More Rugby - The Righteous Hand - Impound - More Impound - Sparrow - TNT - Lucky Bunny - Daddy's Girl - Sparrow Again + Retirement Party

#Cave Writing for unlinked works and me complaining about writing

Image credit - Banner made in Canva

[d10nsaint]

DAPHINE

secretive plotter, kim dokja, yoo junghyuk, yoo sangah x gn!reader [separate]

another request from @rouecentric 😦⁉️🤯 so surprised rn. Anyways i love od but he’s not here because i don't wanna make them all have a romantic setting then have od be the only platonic one bcs he’s like 12.also tagging @elychee bcs they're AMAZING and wrote abt the lcf trio with a plus sized reader and you should really check it out [wink wink] i really tried to make this gn pls tell if it isn't THIS IS ALSO JUST ME SAYING NONSENSE BTW IT MIGHT NOT MAKE SENSE

ʚɞ Kim Dokja;

DOKJA is just happy he has a lover.

Really.

He also loves hugging you after a warm day—you’re just so soft and sweet to him (like anybody would be. hes so

He loves touching you. Hes just such a sucker for affection because he had none when he was younger, and he'd be elated to have someone who could handle his touch and affirm him throughout the day that its okay and they dont mind.

When it comes to your body,he really likes your chest.He lays on it when you both are lying down on the couch or even in bed. But once, one thing led to another on the couch and his head ended up on your thighs. he was literally shaking. His mind was going a million miles per hour and his face went beet red, and it was to the point where you had to make sure he was okay.

ʚɞ Yoo Sangah;

SANGAH is so naturally sweet and was raised in a way that everyone is the same—and thats how she sees people! Of course, not until she finds an s/o whos plus sized. She finally realizes the beauty of plus sized bodies !!

after a long day of work getting harassed, she just wants to go home and settle down in her lovers arms with a book and some detox tea !!

once, she was laying atop you reading a book with your back against the armrest of the couch and her back against yours, and then she realized something—you were very soft. Well, to her, atleast. Ever since, you’ve always been the big spoon!!

Shes never really had impure thoughts about you or your body….in fact, you’d have to bring stuff like that up to her in a conversation because of how little she thinks of it, so i cant really do the thigh thing

ʚɞ Yoo Junghyuk/Joonhyuk;

JUNGHYUK would just be happy that you’d survive a situation where he can't get you both food. ( Idk why i wrote that,i can't go 5 hours without getting hungry)

He’d usually carry you around as a form of training—and never admit it. He also does it just to be able to hold you, but whatever.

He'd be very fond of you (in his head) and try to be very subtle with it-he'd throw you a high grade item and say,'here,you're weak' and if you call him out, he'd glare at you and do nothing else.

By the time that you both are dating, he'd have opened up and really cherished you,hoping to make you happy and give you a life like him of the past would have.

If theres a point where youre dating and not fighting for your lives, he'd love to [secretly] just hold you in his arms and cherish you. It doesnt matter if he's standing up or laying down.He's just so happy to have you in his empty regressor life.

ʚɞ Secretive Plotter;

PLOTTER really doesnt care about body types, even when they come to his s/o UNLESS its very unhealthy.

As i’d suppose that you and plotter would be in a nice,loving and healthy relationship, he’s seen your body—no matter how insecure you are. He loves you no matter what, and nobody should ever dare to talk bad about your body and your habits or else he’d (as I said in a previous post) reign hell upon that person.

Putting the reassurance aside, hes very glad to have a thicker/ plus sized partner, due to how much his body is developed. He wouldnt have to see you as a doll and try to hold back his natural strength with all his might (i mean he still has to hold back) but its better than nothing!

he LOVES to put his hand on your thighs. He can't go a DAY without putting his hands on them, if its meant to be a reassuring caress or a more intimate touch. Male? Female? Something in between? He doesn’t care.

[butchbenrey]

listen to me. ive already talked about how ptsd haver gordie would struggle to be around the science team, but think about darnold. okay?

(this turned out longer than i thought it would so im sparing you the experience of scrolling past it. true darnold pepper heads will read on. i know this to be true)

think about her. she was like, one of the only people who ever really Helped rather than hindered gordie during canon, and she did it completely of her own goodwill. the bit of time where everyone met darnold was a distinct respite from the chaos of the rest of black mesa. at least, it was as calm as it could get with the whole crew there fucking around. and darnold, while eccentric and silly, is undeniably the most emotionally intelligent person gordie met that whole time. and she had some self-preservation instinct, causing her to stay behind, which i would say makes darnold way better for gordie to be around than any of the other characters. because darnold knows and understands to some extent what happened, she was there after all, but she's not so intimately connected to the events that it would make gordie uncomfortable.

i think darnolds narrative function as a respite in canon could carry over to post-canon stuff too... i think darnold is someone gordie could confide in and actually get some reasonable responses from. i know a lot of people put tommy in the role of like. designated gordie therapist post-canon but i really can't see that. tommy just does not share the same outwardly friendly and curious demeanor that darnold does, at least not to me. and i can't imagine him really giving a shit about anything gordie says 😭. sorry. but darnold is different to me! i can imagine a frazzled and traumatized gordie going through old work emails trying to find a way to contact darnold again, looking for closure she'll never get. i can imagine her contacting darnold, anxious out of her mind, but finding that, when they do eventually meet up for coffee and darnold does some wacky shit to her own drink for funsies, she can roll with this. this is nice, to her. i think she can be a lesbo about it to be quite honest with you.

i have this scene in my head of like. somebody— probably coomer— throwing some kind of party and of course gordie feels obligated to come despite knowing in her heart its a terrible idea. and of course, she ends up spending much of the party standing awkwardly in a corner trying not to freak the fuck out and jumping out of her skin when coomer gives her a friendly (hard as fuck) punch on the arm. darnold has been spending the whole party rummaging around the bar and making all kinds of beautiful and fucked up cocktails, and when she notices gordie shes like "dear god that poor thing." so she makes a special little drink just for her, approaches gordie, and offers it to her, saying: "you seem a little glum. this should cheer you up!" and gordie breaks down sobbing on the floor because its so nice and shes so overwhelmed and nobody has shown her that kind of kindness and generosity in so long.

darnold also internally freaks out a little bit, scared she fucked something up, but she reasons that regardless of why gordie's crying, it's probably a good idea to take her outside and away from all the lights and sounds. so she does; she helps gordie up, escorts her out to the porch, sits her down. and they talk. gordie apologizes profusely for ruining the party and being weird and whatever and darnold earnestly replies that she was only there for the drinks anyways, she doesn't quite care for parties in the first place. gordie chugs the cute lil drink darnold gave her, and its good, and she tells darnold as much. darnold is very thankful that its so dark out because she is so so so flustered and she hopes gordie can't tell. gordie leans on her, though darnold is well over a foot shorter than gordie, so really it's functionally gordie resting her head on top of darnold's.

gordie is very much a lightweight and she gets more drunk from that one little glass than someone whos like 6'2" should, so darnold offers to drive her home to her apartment. gordie agrees, and she's even more handsy with people when she's drunk, so she's all holding onto darnold for support and rubbing her thumbs into her shirt and getting distracted. it is not good for darnolds composure in the slightest but she is trying so very hard to be normal about it. they make it back to gordie's apartment.

as they make it inside, gordie, drunk on both alcohol and the overwhelming feeling of being cared for for the first time in ages, tries to kiss darnold. darnold is a hopeless romantic to me. she wants to accept so bad but she's responsible, so she laughs it off and tells gordie they should get her to bed. gordie agrees and within minutes she's out like a light.

darnold stays the night, hopeful for the morning.

[omegasmileyface]

The Foleys' Incredible Crisis

Chapter 1: Call It Stormy Monday

Call It Stormy Monday (But Tuesday Is Just as Bad) was written and performed in 1947 by T-Bone Walker. It is one of the most popular Blues songs ever, and has been performed and reiterated by countless other musicians. It has been credited with inspiring B.B. King to take up electric guitar, and it is included in the Library of Congress.

Happy Invisobang!!! This should have been posted earlier in the week but I couldn't make myself get to the computer to finalize/format it. Hehe. This year I had the INCREDIBLE experience of working with Shadow and Sharks, who were such wonderful artists— they have a whole smörgåsbord of art to please your eyes in this story! They have kept me on my toes— as I write this, the final, collaborated illustration is still a secret to me 👀 Lola is an OC I named once I realized Tucker absolutely feels like he has a little sister. Since then she's been in my heart and I can't let her go. My wonderful girl Lola. It's a treat whenever I get to see her in the wild— I almost had a heart attack when she appeared in Lex Luthor's Ascent from Supervillainy to Fatherhood by halfagone!

For a directory of all currently posted chapters and related content, check out the Table of Contents!

fic summary: After a whole week of vacation stuck together, the Foleys were more than happy to have some time apart. So when they each found themselves caught up in ghost business, that meant handling it alone. Angela wasn't planning on improvising a ghost conspiracy, Maurice was hoping to avoid working IT, Lola didn't think playing a hero would take her out of school, and Tucker would really have liked to focus on his own problems. But, really, what else did they expect from Amity Park? Home, sweet home.

words: 2269

AO3 link

next chapter [pending]

Tucker dropped his bag with a thunk. He was far beyond caring to be delicate, despite the electronics inside— he just wanted to shed his shoes and jacket and maybe the memories of the trip along with them.

"Ohhhh-kay," said his mom, grimacing at the trash can. Nobody had thought to empty it before they left. "What a vacation!" She laughed emptily. "I'm going to bed. You can fend for yourselves for dinner."

Tucker's dad popped back out from behind the bathroom door. "Before you go," he called over the rush of the faucet, "can we all just agree? Real quick, get in the den and then we can all ignore each other."

Lola sighed loudly and gave up untying her shoe, just kicking it off. Tucker agreed. He couldn't wait to wash his hands after the long trip.

His dad dried off his hands and joined them in the den, looking each of his family members in the eyes one by one. "I propose we never talk about this trip unless we have to."

Everyone agreed with as much fervor as they could muster after the fraught day.

"Also," said Lola, "I think we should try not to talk to each other for a whole day."

"Works for me," said Tucker.

His mom yawned. "Much as I love you all, I'm good with a day pretending you don't exist. Tucker, can you walk with Lola to and from school tomorrow?"

He looked at his little sister. She shrugged.

"As long as she plays nice, yeah."

His dad clapped. "Cool. Alright. So, unless one of us needs something, we all mind our own business tomorrow? Okay. I'm gonna order a pizza, and... I'll sleep in the guest room tonight. Pleasure doin' business with you all."

Tucker closed his eyes and sighed, pleased at imagining taking a shower and sleeping in his own bed in a few hours.

They had just wanted to see family in Chicago. What a disaster.

The library was quiet when Angela Foley came in. That made sense, she worked weekday mornings, so they usually only saw adults and the rare preschooler. As much as she liked helping the spread of knowledge, it was nice not to have too much to do at the front desk. Maybe she could get a crossword puzzle or two done.

She had made it about halfway through the puzzle (Angela knew a lot of things, but wordplay was never her specialty. What on Earth was she supposed to get from "gift for a blue lady"?) before someone walked in, paused, and went straight for the front desk.

She put on her smile. "Hi! Can I help ya with anything?"

The man was tall, wearing a clean white button-up shirt and jeans. His brassy skin and black hair caught strangely in the fluorescent lights, turning almost orange at their edges. She was pretty sure he was a ghost in disguise, but she had helped ghosts before. Usually, if one was asking for help using a library, they weren't intent on doing anything violent.

Usually. She still reserved a little caution.

"Yes, I'm looking for information on a very distant place. Where might I find something like that?"

"Well, what place is it?"

"It's called An Aghaidh Mhòr."

Angela blinked at the unfamiliar sounds. "I'm not familiar. Is that... Gaelic?"

The man fiddled with his sleeves. "Scottish, I believe, yes."

"Alright." Angela stood up and moved toward the computer monitor at the desk by the door. "I'm going to check in our catalog for books on Scotland."

The man watched silently as she searched. Angela hummed. "It looks like, in house, the only books we have on Scotland are travel guides covering the whole of the UK or Europe. I don't expect they'd have many details on smaller places— well, I'm assuming An Aghaidh Mhòr is small, since I haven't heard of it. If you'd like, you can check anyway, or I can contact another library in the system, and they can send over some more specialized books, but that might take a few days."

The man said nothing, but his eyebrows furrowed in thought. Angela recognized the face of a person with a wide, potent array of bad options.

"Or, if you're more pressed for time, we do have a few computers and Internet access here. I can help you find some web sites that might have what you're looking for."

"And this wouldn't take any longer than looking through a book?"

Angela smiled and headed toward the public computers. "Faster, even, if you know what you're doing. I can help you if you've never done it before."

They began their search, and the man caught on quickly to what Angela was doing and how. She helped him for a while, long enough to find out that An Aghaidh Mhòr was a place in the woody North of Scotland, usually called Aviemore, and was something of a tourist destination. Beyond that, she left him to do his own research and went back to her crossword.

She just had a pesky few clues left when the man started muttering curses in another language and walked back over to her desk.

With panicked eyes, he said "I have to be honest. What I'm looking for is, ah… evidence that An Aghaidh Mhòr has an open community of ghosts alongside its humans. I'm certain that it once did, and I know that it still must. But I have chased every tail of information I could find that led to pages on the computer, and none of them, regardless of detail or experience with the town, has mentioned it."

He looked down and seemed to weigh something in his head. "It must be some sort of secret. Whether to protect the ghosts or to protect themselves from ridicule, the living people of An Aghaidh Mhòr have hidden their ghost society. You have to help me find it."

The little hairs on Angela's body all stood up. Warning bells were going off in her head. There was nothing to do but remain calm. "If that's the case, I don't know about anything like that. I can send out a question to my colleagues to see if they know anything, but I'm afraid I can't–"

"No!" The man swung out a hand, and the inner doors swung shut, silvery light weaving across them like fishing nets to keep them in place. The lights dimmed and his skin faded to a deep, fiery orange, layered and complex like agate. His eyes glowed like the moon. The few library guests gasped and looked at him in shock.

"You are a keeper of information, from a city with a striking connection to ghosts. I need to know the truth about ghostly An Aghaidh Mhòr, and you must help me find it." His silver eyes were full of fear, but Angela couldn't bring herself to care how the ghost who just trapped and threatened her was feeling.

She had to think fast to get out of this safely. Something to keep his hopes up…

"Fine. Fine." Angela held up her hands. "I'm not confident in my own grasp of the situation, but I do know of some secrets like the one you're talking about. It'll take some time– say, a couple hours– to put together anything meaningful, and I'll need to call in an expert, but I can do it. I will do it."

She could only hope her friends were any good at improv.

Maurice was never one for early mornings, but he always made the best of his hour alone after the kids went off to school and Angela's shift started. That was his time to make coffee and goof around. He could prance around the kitchen in ways that would make Tucker gag if he were there, and as long as he couldn't see his neighbors, he could put them out of mind enough to sing as loud as he wanted.

Before work was the blues hour. Today he put on Lucille. Whole album, on tape, from the top.

If anybody asked why he started his days with the blues, he'd probably say something about the sad lyrics reminding him how lucky he was. How no matter how embarrassing the family vacations or boring the work or sleazy the boss, he still had a clean house around him and a faithful wife beside him.

In reality, though, he mostly just liked the beat.

Once he got into work, it was just the same as ever. Double-entries and journalizing. He didn't even get to mix up which accounts he dealt with. VLADCO was too big for that. It was Accounts Receivable, 140-180, day after day.

But at least it wasn't IT.

Then, after almost an hour of swimming through "Axiom Labs, Ltd. $1,300 Debit" and "Hey, Maurice, how was the weekend?" and "Nugreen Ectosuppliers, LLC $400 Credit" and "You get that last letter? Crazy what Masters is trying these days, yeah?", everything went dark.

(Or, at least darker than usual. The grainy white of every surface in the office never lent itself to anything deeper than a cloudy grey.)

After a few seconds of quiet shock, the lights came back. Now, however, there was a ghost floating in front of the door connecting the Finances and Supplies department to the rest of the facility.

He seemed to be well-muscled and of average height, though it was hard to tell exactly what a ghost looked like when they were putting off that much of an aura. His skin was dark green and rough-looking, like bark, and there was a reddish halo around his head like some sort of spectral hair. His blood-moon eyes looked over everyone in the room individually before anyone dared speak. Finally, he opened his mouth.

"This is the center of a company that arms humans againsts ghosts and similar threats. Yes?"

Shocked, a few people nodded.

"And you are all from the department keeping stock of supplies. I do not know where your weapons are kept, but I know that you do. Someone in here will retrieve them for me. I need them, if I am to bring my people, ghosts and humans, together again."

The tension finally broke the membrane freezing time, and several office workers started to move for phones.

"Don't bother trying to get help. I have severed all the lines of communication between you and the world outside this office. I will leave you alone, as soon as someone leads me to the armory."

Maurice glanced at the little LCD display on the phone on his desk. No signal. His computer, too, had nothing when he clicked over to the Internet settings.

No one said anything. Some kept trying with their phones, but not a single person offered to explain how scant and useless the actual in-house ecto-equipment supply was or show the path to it. Maurice imagined they were all thinking the same thing he was; yes, complying was generally the way to stay safe in a hostage situation, and panic was strong, but a ghost coming into town and getting their hands on even just half-assembled ecto-equipment never went well. And, maybe even more importantly, VLADCO had terrifyingly strict regulations on safe ecto-tech policy. Unless the immediate threat of being personally hurt for information increased, the consequences in the long run were the biggest monster here.

The ghost crossed his arms. "Fine. You have one hour to bring me to the weapons. I can wait. I have waited this long. If you take any longer, or if you attempt any trickery, then I will start going through with threats. Until then, you may have your time to panic and fantasize about ways out that don't involve giving up company supply. I will be standing here."

He leaned against the door, and his gaze stayed rock-hard on the workers and their cubicles.

Maurice caught the eye of his most tolerable coworker Jacob. Jacob widened his eyes in some silent look of panicked questioning. Maurice shrugged. He was scared out of his mind, but what was there to do? Freaking out wouldn't do anybody any good. He could wait here and see if any ghost hunter showed up, and once they got closer to the end of the hour, everybody could meet up and decide if it was worth giving up the ecto-tech.

For now... well, he certainly wasn't going to do more accounting. This was as good an excuse for a break as any.

He toyed around on his computer for a bit, fidgeting with whatever programs he had. Maybe if the ghost noticed him, he could say he was looking for office schematics explaining where the ecto-tech was held. Really, he couldn't think to do anything but let off stress.

He played around in the rudimentary E-mail client for a bit. Mimed sending goofy messages to his coworkers while he knew he couldn't accidentally send them. But there, at the top of his inbox, was the automated morning office update. It had just come in four minutes ago... after the communications were shut off.

Was there some kind of hole in the ghost's anti-communication measure? The intercoms weren't working, and normal E-mails weren't going through, even within just Finances & Supplies. But the daily updates worked on a different system than the normal E-mails, so nobody had to send them at a consistent time each day, just queue them up.

...Was there something about the different setup that made it immune to the ghost's blackout?

Maurice got to investigating.

[chainslobber]

I check your account religiously in the least weird way possible for anything new. I literally eat your art style up. We aren't moots, and I'm kinda shy and awkward, but I do care about your general well-being as another human being. I don't know if you'll see this or not, but I'm sorry people are so miserable that they feel the need to project it onto you. I really love your art style and your animal posts. I think you seem like a really cool person. I always like seeing people who love their interests as much as I do. I'll miss seeing your life updates and stuff, but I hope you take care of yourself. Everyone deserves to take a breather. Everyone deserves kindness. Please take care of yourself.🖤

Hello Anon!

I got this message this morning but didn't wanna type up something on my phone (I am a mom typer and my touch screen is broken). I just wanted to say thank you for the kind message and I really appreciate it and the fact you took time out of your day to send it, you're incredibly sweet <3 I do think I'm just going through a LOT and my body and mind are at the breaking point. Plenty of people have it harder than me, that's true, but I think things just caught up with me.

I love being on Tumblr because everyone's really cool and it's nice to see people's art and writing, but at the same time, when those things are what pays your bills and rent, it kind of freaks you out? They say if you're good at something, don't do it for free, and I wouldn't say I'm incredible at writing or drawing, but it's ALL I'm good at. So, I sort of dug myself into a damn hole. It really sucks when something you spend weeks on barely gets traction, and I hate feeling like a circus clown shoving my stuff in people's faces over and over until they decide to pity reblog it. It was terrible on Twitter; nobody saw anything because that site sucks, but when it happens on EVERY site, you start to wonder if you're the issue.

I don't mean to vent to you, a random friend on the internet, but I think it's better if I explain /why/ I've been feeling terrible? I'm sure a lot of folks are rolling their eyes because there's more important things to worry about but again--this is all I have, it's all I can do to keep myself alive, so it sucks when people don't really care. I'm not saying people need to worship me or that I need thousands of followers always commenting and liking my stuff, but it would be nice to have a little gratification, to know my art's not ugly or my writing isn't bad, y'know? Especially when those two things doing WELL means I get a roof over my head.

If my art keeps doing badly, if folks can't buy commissions or prints or whatever else, I'll be homeless VERY soon and I think that dawning realization is catching up on me.

[sirenium]

If I witness one more person call the accommodation of autistic needs (hell, even allistic and/or otherwise disabled needs) 'enabling' I am going to scream.

trigger warning under the cut: mentions of bullying, shitty adults who fuck up their job so bad that it just makes things worse. Somewhat long post, you have been warned.

I have missed a lot of school throughout my life. When I was younger, it was because the kids never welcomed me, despite the office lady's attempts at making my mom see otherwise in 1st to 2nd grade. I switched schools a lot, in the hopes that I would have better luck meshing with my peers in another environment (I didn't). Once I turned thirteen, I learned how to mask for the most part, and suddenly, everyone was nice to me... and I didn't know why but didn't complain. I would have to leave often still, because I was exhausted and couldn't fathom staying the whole day. I think I missed more school the older I got, despite no longer being bullied: 13 was when I masked the hardest, and I missed so many days that the vice principal called me into his office to threaten me that, if I didn't stop missing so much school, they would send a social worker to my house. I didn't do much better with attendance in 9th grade, but this was 2019-2020 and we all know what happened then.

The theme throughout all of this was adults downplaying my struggles, watering it all down to me being lazy or defiant or whatever word they could pull out of their ass to villainize me. My own counselor would tell my mom not to pick me up so much, because that was 'enabling' me. Nobody bothered to really open their eyes when it came to my autism, because even though I flailed around like a dying fish trying to get along with my allistic peers, I 'could communicate just fine' and 'made eye contact' and was 'too intelligent' to possibly be autistic. Never mind my struggles academically, because I """""made straight As""""" often (I didn't learn how to read until 8 years old, have yet to learn how to count money, can now just barely count the time on an analog clock, and just barely survived when it came to things that weren't language related. I failed algebra 1 three times).

I didn't learn I was autistic until I was 16, and didn't get a professional diagnosis until 18. It hasn't even been a year. The professionals suspected autism at a much younger age (four years old, to be exact. 'rule out autism spectrum disorder' is in my records), but never bothered to do anything about it. I was thrown headfirst into life with no support, constantly being told it was MY fault, and all the while I had no idea what was going on with me. My mom's efforts to accommodate the child who was dealing with so much shit was labeled as 'enabling'. Now she, herself, considers certain accommodations to be enabling.

Can we please. Just remove 'enabling' from our vocabulary when it comes to accommodating autistic people. Can we please stop acting like giving physically disabled people disability aids such as wheelchairs and rollators is 'enabling'. Can we please actually acknowledge the causes for why that person is missing school so much instead of acting like they're just lazy and being 'enabled'. Please for the love of fucking God can people be normal about disabled people and those of us who are bullied.

[disfrutalakia]

I wanna vent (? Not sure if that's the best word but I will tag it as that) a bit about the qsmp right now so don't mind me ^-^ under the cut too as precaution, I don't want to clutter people's dash

Like if anyone has ever talked to me in private you know that I usually prefer to stay positive, to hope for the best always but it's tiring always doing that, and yes I try to be level headed at all times when it comes to the admins situation but it's hard when we don't know what's going on truly and I get it, we are not entitled to those informations and many things can be being resolved behind the scenes but it's hard to not get anxious and think that the worst is going to happen soon.

Again, I try to not doompost but my brain gets the best of me sometimes and when I'm like that I try not to post and I'm sure everyone has noticed that I'm posting a lot less this year when compared to 2023 and the truth is, I'm tired, not of being here or posting really, I love being here it feels nice and comfortable most times but everything feels so unstable right now that I'm afraid of posting into the main tag now and irritating someone, and I dunno it's weird and complicated. Just a lot has happened as we all know and it's hard to remain positive for most of it.

This is nothing really, I just needed to talk before I exploded so really, I don't mind if nobody reads this, I just needed to talk a bit

Anyway guys I love all of you still and want to be around, it has just been... hard you know?

[rainbowxocs]

The Trolley Problem by Angel.

This is a recreation of the original Alex-Computer arg, this time in story form! :) I have been working on this on and off. So I decided to post it here. I hope you all will enjoy Alex’s story.

.💜.

Preface.

I am alone.

I have been alone for my entire life.

I don’t know who I’m calling out too. There is nobody here that will save me. But if someone, anyone, can hear me. I hope that you can listen for a little while.

It’s cold and dark. But I can’t complain, I am everyone’s savior. I saved the world. And yet it feels so empty. I feel so guilty for feeling this way, I mean this is what I was made to do.

I guess nobody told me about the pain of being a martyr. But that’s okay. I forgive them. I forgive everyone. Because that’s what I do.

It’s like the puzzle yknow? If you could save five people by derailing the train and killing only one: the correct answer is to kill the one person.

I am that one person, I was made to die for other people. Even if it hurts.

…….

I know you aren’t really there, but you’re a very good listener.. Ever since I got here I feel like I’ve been going mad just going around in loops over and over again.. Thinking about my life.. Thinking about my sacrifice..

Do… you mind if I tell you about it..? Maybe.. that would help.. I can tell you about my life.. It’s pretty short, don’t worry.. I won’t bore you too much..

Well, to start off with, My name is Alexander Leverett. It’s nice to meet you.

I hope we can be friends. : )

☂️. Next Page:

Chapter 1.

[nekosd43]

Tagged by @epersonae!

Rules: Go to your published works on AO3 and list the first fic you ever published there, the last fic you published, any fic that you wrote for a fandom/ship only once, your favorite fic you wrote in the fandom/ship that has the most works, the fic you wish more people read, the fic you agonized over the most, the fic that sprang fully formed from your mind without any effort, and a work you are proud of—for whatever reason. <3

First fic - Who Can Say? it's funny to me that my first fic so badly was like "no i don't ship taako and magnus these two are COMPLETELY PLATONIC... or IS IT?" I had bad brain poison at the time that shipping fics were "lesser" art and didn't want to fall in that category... that turned out really good, good job me lol.

Last fic - Someday. the fact that i am one of (checks tag) THREE PEOPLE who have written Fjorester baby-making-sex is literally a crime to me. I literally do not understand. Why is there not more fic of them. If travis and laura say that fjord and jester had a kid in the liveshow next month I am going to be INSUFFERABLE TO EVERYONE AROUND ME LET THEM BE THE DILF/MILF POWER COUPLE I DESERVE.

Only fic for a fandom/ship -Since I have only posted fic for two fandoms and I've been pretty consistent about my shipping habits in those fandoms I don't have any real one-off ships, but You're all I want for candlenights is the ONLY taz fic that is not taako/magnus focused, instead focusing on Barry/Lup. I REALLY liked it and worked really hard on it, but didn't get a lot of love for it so I never really came back to the pairing except as background elements.

Favorite fic in the fandom with the most works - I legit go back and reread I had forgotten I would always love you at least once a month. Legit the perfect fic to me, has basically replaced canon in my brain to the point that I forget TAZ didn't end this way. When people say you should write the fic you want to read, this was it for me, this was THE taagnus fic for me and I've never written anything better.

Fic I wish more people read - Right now it's Come to bed with us good captain because I so BADLY want more people to ship postcanon Kingsley/Fjord/Jester and NOBODY MAKES CONTENT OF THEM. I wrote it hoping to get other people into the ship but it didn't work :,)

Fic I agonized over the most - Agonized is a strong word but in terms of "fics that were difficult to write and yet i wanted to keep writing them even when it was really hard," Wizards and Woodsmen, Beauties and Beasts is easily that. Spent literal years on it, with months between chapters because it was so hard to get my brain functioning enough to write it (most of it was written during periods where i had been let go from work and needed to do Something or I was going to die). I genuinely love this fic regardless, I'm glad I saw it through to the end, but it was a BATTLE every step of the way.

Fic that sprang fully formed - Your scars are a roadmap of your life literally came to me in one sitting after looking at some artwork that a artist who has sadly left tumblr did or i would link it. I had so many ideas for this fic it ended up inspiring me to write a whole magnus-centric scar series, and start a taako one that never got finished.

A work I'm proud of - It's not done yet and I'm still working my way through it but In Bloom with You is a fic that I have spent a LOT of time on and done a lot of work with, especially going back and editing early chapters to change it from a romantic fic into... something else? when Talesin revealed that Caduceus was aroace. Since then there has been a VERY KIND and very vocal corner of aroace fans of Cad (and fjord!) who have adored this fic and have said such wonderfully kind things to me about it and how it has helped them with their own body issues / sexual or romantic identities / relationships with their libido, and it's honestly really humbling and really nice because I also just REALLY like this fic! It started as a ho ho hee hee sexytime thing but the shift over time into this character study that uses sex as a lens to look at otherwise non sexual characters.... idk i honestly think it's one of my best works, even though it apparently also gets me Cancelled in certain corners of the fandom (it's a whole thing)

Tagging - anyone who wants to, but especially @ungarmax !