#get it. on the fence about making this. on the fence

[snowluvvie]

₊˚⊹ ♡ . rafe cameron x apple pie!reader

Rafe didn’t understand what everybody was always running their mouth about when they said shit like “you’ll meet a nice girl” “you’ll wanna settle down” because, in his experience, nice girls were atrociously boring and no one he ever wanted to be around. He was sure he’d shack up with some bitch and get married and pump out a couple kids because he had to, because that’s what he was supposed to do, but not because he loved someone so much he wanted to

That was, until he met you.

You, with your gentle beauty and the way your hair was always so close to perfect but never quite. The pleated skirts and the way you always smelled of cinnamon and, faintly, soil. Warm as a kitchen at dawn, quiet except for your laugh, which was loud enough to scare the birds out of the forest.

The thing about girls with rickety front porches and warm hands, though, is that you have to be on their best behavior around them—that’s what Barry said, at last: “Man, she’s not gonna want your coked-up ass. That typa chick wants a dude who builds a fuckin’ fence and shit. They don’t like rich dudes. Give it up.”

And unfortunately, Rafe was pretty sure he was right. You mostly kept your head down when you walked, and no matter how many things he leaned against, or how many times he casually smoked a cigarette near you, he just couldn’t get you to look his direction—and if you did, you didn’t grant a second glance to his crisp white shirts or his backwards hat.

His crowning last-stitch move was when he made a big show of helping his dear sister carry her bag when she was walking down the dock—it looked heavy, he wouldn’t want her hurting herself! She’s family, after all! Sarah had tried to wrestle the bag back and she flipped him off after he put it onto the boat for her, but it’d already had the desired effect… your eyes lingered on him for a moment. Family was important, after all. You were the kinda girl who cared about those things.

When the two of you started going out, he felt like his life was spinning out of control and simultaneously clicking into place. You had expectations for him, real ones. And a lot of the time when you said shit like “I’m making dinner tonight, don’t be late” or “wash your hands” Rafe wanted to tell you to go fuck yourself, because you weren’t his damn mother—except when he looked over at you and saw your face, that wide-eyed, imploring look you always gave him, the words died in his throat. What the hell was wrong with him?

He’d do something nice for you and you’d nudge his arm. “What, you sweet on me or somethin’?” He’d wonder who even talks like that, it’s weird. Then he’d find himself grabbing your pretty face and kissing you so hard you think he might break your nose.

Rafe was so, so well behaved with you. He kept it together so nice, all his unstable shit wrapped up into a neat little package tied with ribbon. He acted as a guy who smiled semi-often, and said thank you sometimes, and maintained eye contact with you when he was fucking you—all things that were new and unfamiliar to him. When you told him what time dinner was, he came over in time. He kissed your forehead and he meant it. For you, he did it all. Barry had been right. You wanted a well-behaved guy, and Rafe wanted to watch the way your smile took over your face when you were happy and the ecstatic look on your face when you came, so he was well-behaved.

That was, until he wasn’t.

He was supposed to come over at nine. You would’ve just gotten out of the shower (or maybe you’d still be in, if he got lucky) and you’d put your cute little plaid PJs on, and you’d climb on top of him and put your weight on his chest while the two of you watched some 90’s movie. The movie would get boring in act three and he’d watch you ride him, and then he’d cum on your stomach like a gentleman, and the two of you would fall asleep wrapped up in eachother.

Instead of that carefully constructed, lovely, dreamy evening—Rafe showed up at nearly three in the morning, covered in blood.

He knew you’d be asleep, he’d have time to wash his face and toss his shirt in the trash can out back before climbing into your bed with you. He didn’t wanna go home. He wanted to press kisses to your throat and apologize for being late, swear that it would never happen again and then make it up to you in the morning by making you cum over and over in your crisp red plaid bedsheets.

Instead, he found you sitting on a stool in your living room, head leaned against the wall, eyes heavy with sleep. Waiting for him. Rafe froze like a deer in headlights and waited for the inevitable, for you to call him a psychopath and beat him off the property with a broom.

You didn’t. You didn’t speak, just led him to the bathroom and wiped the blood from his face, carded your fingers through his hair. Threw his clothes into the rattling washing machine with a tablespoon of hydrogen peroxide, and then let him crawl into bed with you anyway. The two of you were silent, and he slung an arm over you. You settled into the crook of his armpit and fell asleep with your face smushed against his bicep, and he felt something horrible and unfamiliar blooming in his chest.

You could never leave him, he decided. He wouldn’t allow it. He couldn’t survive that.

[imujings]

hai the event you're doing is so cute omg! what about puppy princess by hot freaks and vernon??? thank you!!

'cause i feel weak and your hands, and your feet are precious and i'll never feel your touch

wc <1k. warnings unrequited love, one (1) mention of a dick LMAO. jay’s musings this song is so good but so sad skfjdk do enjoy anon!! <3

Vernon’s exhausted.

His limbs ache for reprieve, fingers cramping from his eternal hold on the washcloth as he wipes down the table for what feels like the fiftieth time. He glances over at your booth like it’ll make his work any less tiring.

It does, in a sense.

Your beat up converse are up on the booth chair’s red and weathered cushion, little smiley marks and stars scratched out in pen decorating the material. You’re talking animatedly about something he can’t quite hear, hands waving back and forth as your mouth moves quicker than he can keep up with. A tray of fries lays before you on the table untouched.

And of course, Kim Mingyu sits across from you, his gelled black hair gleaming just right in the diner’s low light, leaning forward with his arms crossed and hanging onto your every word.

Sometimes, the man would steal a fry from your basket, and you would smack his hand away with a giggle. You two have been here for hours, showing up early into his shift engrossed in conversation and fingers intertwined.

“Yo, Vernon,” Mingyu had grinned. “Booth for two, the usual spot?”

It’s not like Vernon hated Mingyu—stars above, if anything, Mingyu was one of his closest friends. The countless number of fences they’ve hopped and movie theatres they’ve snuck into amounted to their bond.

No, the problem was you.

Lively, energetic and bubbly you. You, who was welcomed into his friend group with open arms, who knew all the blind spots to the rickety old security cameras at their mall’s theatre and who knew how to scale a ten foot wired fence without getting as much as a scratch. You, who bumped elbows with him in silent inquiry of Are you okay? Do you wanna dip? when he started spacing out for a little too long at a party. You, who smiled at him and wordlessly passed a wired earbud, listening to his favorite rock bands with him as the pair of you walked back from the corner store.

You, who he was totally, absolutely cool and normal about and definitely not head over heels for. You, who was dating his friend, Kim Mingyu, for three months and counting.

Yeah. Checkmate.

Vernon decides he’s had enough of scrubbing at the faded vindication of a phallus some emo teenager definitely drew, plopping the washcloth into the bucket full of soapy water and wiping his hands on his apron. As he makes his way towards the back he faintly hears your teasing remark at something Mingyu had said, probably in an effort to make you flustered. Laughter explodes behind him.

It’s unfair, he thinks. It’s unfair that your favorite diner is the one that he works at.

He remembers your study sessions after school as he tended to the many customers. You always ordered the same milkshake and basket of fries, hunched over your math textbook as if it had all the secrets to the world. Vernon would send refills over every time one of them got too low for his liking, trying to get you to crack that lovely smiley that made his heart flutter.

How did Mingyu manage to do it so effortlessly?

Vernon felt like a fool. He rings up your booth’s receipt and, on autopilot, walks back out to where you’re now resting your head against the diner’s white walls.

“Hey, sorry to interrupt, but the diner’s closing soon,” he scratches the back of his neck awkwardly as he places the check on the table right in front of you.

You perk up, eyes following his movements. “Thanks, ‘sol!”

Mingyu, rummaging through his pockets for some bills, is too occupied to notice the way Vernon’s breath stutters slightly at the nickname. Ever since you found out that Vernon was just the street name he went by, Hansol being his actual given name, you took it upon yourself to call him what he thought were terribly endearing nicknames.

He fumbles to pick up the check once a twenty dollar bill is passed over and just nods. You reward him with a little laugh.

“Keep the change,” you offer kindly.

Mingyu whines something about that being his money, but you roll your eyes. “Vernon is always dealing with our late night dates during his closing shift. The least we can do is pay him for putting up with us. Right, ‘sollie?”

Vernon makes a noise somewhere between a “mhm,” and a “sure,” causing another laugh to spill from your pretty lips. He wishes he could kiss them shut sometimes.

The world doesn’t deserve to hear your melodic sounds—only him.

He compartmentalizes those selfish thoughts away as you stand up, dusting crumbs off your clothes, and reach for Mingyu’s outstretched hand. Mingyu preens at the touch and you smile up at him.

“Good luck with closing, Vernon!” you wave with your free arm, eyes crinkling with friendliness.

His friend—your boyfriend, Vernon reminds himself—raises his own hand to dap him up. He barely feels the numbing sting of the handshake before the two of you are whisking away out the diner doors into the late night.

Vernon sighs and runs a hand over his face.

Good luck to him, indeed.

want to queue a song?

[tetedurfarm]

I know I just have goat fever right now daydreaming, but I would love to hear about your goats. What's their purpose, most annoying trait, anything at all

i am so sorry in advance because i am always brutal when people want animals that i own and they ask me for my opinion. it's a personality flaw. but i need people to understand why animals suck before i say why they are fun lmao

why goat:

my goats are for milk mainly. i have a nigerian dwarf, a mini nubian, a mostly-nigerian 'mini-nubian', and a kinder. their milk is actually really good, all of them, and their production is good for my needs. i expect each to make about half a litre or so a day at peak production this year, going off of numbers from last year. it will be violet's third freshening, and phoebe's second, and they generally increase in production every year for the first three or four years before levelling off. i am not planning to breed hallow unless i find someone with a nigerian buck that they don't mind letting me borrow, cos derek is just way too big for her i fear. turnip will be on her first freshening. i prefer the mini nubians and kinders to the nigerians because they have more ground clearance and bigger teats so it's easier to use a machine on them. hand milking the itty bitty titties isn't awful but i try not to hand milk if possible lol

i do eat kids because i can't sell them, and they are dairy goats so they aren't exactly the meatiest things on the planet, but it's food. i like the taste of wether and doe but buck is stanky.

what i hate about goats:

crime. i know it's the joke but genuinely goats are little shits and your new favourite hobby is now fence the second you put one on your land. literally any sort of weakness in their enclosure they will get through. cannot overstate. if you use electric fence as their primary enclosure (if you want them to mow a weird spot for you or something) they have to be net and they have to hit hard. provided it's grounded right, my net fence with a 1 joule solar charger can hit around 4k max and they will ignore that if they want something on the other side bad enough. however they will usually respect it if they have plenty to eat within the legal zone. you cannot tie a goat because they will strangle themselves trying to eat something outside of their range or slip their collar and do whatever they want.

they will climb on anything they possibly can, including buildings and enclosures. they will also rub on things which is fine sometimes if it's a brush mounted on a pole and bad sometimes when it's your fence. also if they can stick their head through a fance they will do so and if they have horns they will get stuck. sometimes they will get stuck without horns. the issue i have the most with them sticking their heads through fence is they push on it so hard it can warp cattle panel fences and stretch tension ones so i just have to make sure they aren't overly mcfucking everything every now and then.

speaking of horns it is sort of a personal preference on whether or not you do horns. horns look sick af and help them thermoregulate in hotter climates but also horns suck ass and make a lot of things difficult if you are milking them. horns don't always fit into milking stanchions, and i have had enough situations with a bitchy nanny on the stand where if horns were involved i would have been pretty badly injured. they will press them against things because it feels good and again that's fine if it's a post and bad if it's you. my horned goats don't seem to headbutt things like my ram does, and my goats are little so they can't push me over when they press on me, but if they were normal sized goats we'd be having words. trying to medicate horned goats is a pain because i can't just pop them between my thighs unless i want really wicked bruises. i did not want horned goats. the only reason i have two is because one i didn't go deep enough when i was dehorning him, and the other i didn't plan to keep so i didn't bother. there is a nonzero chance i will replacing the horned doe with a daughter this year just because i don't want to deal with it :/

feed-wise they aren't too bad but they are ruminants and have ruminant problems. but you have rabbits and a lot of the same things apply so it's not a huge deal. they need roughage constantly which means if you don't have grass you have to buy hay, and if you can't get it cheap then get fucked. everyone's feeding methods and routine is individual to their needs and herd but mine have free-choice local hay, and i give them a flake or two of alfalfa a day depending on their condition (less in summer when there's grass, more in winter when there isn't.) i give a little grain twice a day; i personally find it less expensive and better and keeping condition on them than just alfalfa, plus it serves as a great incentive to get them all back in the shed when i need. same as the alfalfa, they get less in summer and more in winter, just kinda eyeballed and adjusted as needed to keep condition. the buck and his wether get less grain and their alfalfa is pelleted because it just works a little better with how their feeders are set up. speaking of feeders - goats LOVE standing in feeders and will shit and piss in them and then decide the food is inedible. we screwed 2x4s about six to eight inches over their troughs to prevent this but it makes the horned ones' lives harder so we will need to adjust them. in general goats will not eat food once it touches the ground. it's really fucking annoying because they will waste so much fucking hay that way if you don't have some kind of solid bottom to their feeders. this is An Problem with alfalfa because they ONLY eat the leaves and rarely eat the stems, but the leaves just fall out of normal hay racks and onto the ground. which is lava, obviously. also, they will get addicted to alfalfa and grain. and if you do not give them these things every day they will make your life hell. which is like, fine, if that is part of your feeding plan, but let's just say it took beetlebug over a month of constant screaming before he finally adjusted to his new diet of not being free-fed alfalfa like he was at his old home. he nearly was returned to sender x:

my goats are not huge fans of treats/cookies for some fucking reason and will only eat them if they're apple flavoured. most people do not have this problem.

this is only really a con for me because i also have sheep, but because sheep can't have copper in their mineral i have to bolus my goats a couple of times a year as needed which is a pain in the ass. the fig newton trick does not work because of aforementioned 'we only eat apple cookies' reasons so i have to do it the hard way and it's a rodeo every single time and i hate it. you know they need copper because their fur will get kinda dull and sometimes curly, and they will get what's called a 'fishtail' where they will start going bald on the tip of their tails. it's more a problem for me in winter because we have good copper in the soil, but when there's no grass they need a little help.

goats have soft feet that don't grind down well so you have to trim them which isn't a huge issue but just like, an issue. it's hard on my body particularly so i don't do it as often as i know i should. a trimming stanchion is worth the money. also make sure you get good quality shears because shitty ones will kill your hands.

goats do not suffer in silence and much like cats their definition of suffer is sometimes not actually suffering at all, and is just like....you did not give them alfalfa at Exactly the same time one day so you get to listen to shrieking until you do it. my nursing mamas sleep in a different area that is closer to the house and they will get Real Mad for a couple days the first few times i put them in there at night, and then also every morning if they run out of hay.

if it matters to you, the milk is naturally mostly homogenised and it means if you want to make cream or butter or whatever you have to have a cream separator which are complicated, expensive, and annoying to clean. the milk will separate a little bit on its own, so i guess if you really wanted to you could just skim it every day but you still won't get all of it without a separator.

and lastly, if you keep a buck then you get to deal with Buck Issues™️. famously, bucks stink. my old buck stank all the time, but derek is actually not so bad. outside of horny season he has very little smell but even when he's pissing on himself to appeal to the ladies he isn't nearly as fragrant as orion was. orion you could smell from a mile away. they are also rough on fences and gates for goat reasons but also for horny reasons if there's a doe on the other side. make sure your gates latch Real good. they also need less fat in their diets, can be pushy, and need a companion of some variety or they will get sad. derek lives with beetlebug, who is wethered, and they get along well. some people can keep bachelor groups but it seems to be the exception, and i personally have no need for multiple bucks so i can't give you any firsthand experience.

what i like about goats:

milk milk milk milk milk. it's real good. at least my goats' milk is; not all breeds have tasty milk. to me my goats' milk just tastes like slightly above 2% cows' milk, with a little bit of a grassy or piney taste depending on what they've been eating. mini nubians are nigerian/nubian crosses so their milk is very high in fat and very sweet. kinders are pygmy/nubian crosses so they are a little meatier and the milk is sweet but a little less high in fat.

they are very personable animals and usually will eat out of your hand even if they aren't fan of being pet and cuddled. bottle-raised ones can range from 'dog you can do anything to and likes hanging out with you' to 'trying to climb you constantly and eat your hair' but i have never had that last problem because i don't allow climbing or constant pestering. the worst i've had with a bottle-raised kid was daisy being really like...sexually aggressive towards me and that's why she's in the freezer now. they have big personalities and they are very fun to watch do their little goat thing and there is constant pecking order politics happening to spice things up.

they come in lots of pretty colours and you can mix and match pretty easily to find a breed or cross you really enjoy. like i said, i like the mini nubians and kinders because they are on the smaller side - around 60, 70lbs or so for the does i would guess? and their heads are right at bellybutton range for me who stands 5'8" - bit still have a lot of space between the udder and the ground so they are easy to milk. the nubian in them also helps their teats be a good size and their milk to stay rich.

them being browsers is sort of a blessing and a curse. they are awesome for clearing areas of brush, which is a pro for me who lives in himalayan blackberry hell, but if you want them to mow their lawn they'll only eat grass if there's nothing else. browsing is also why they are so rough on fences and why they tend to eat more shit they shouldn't, they just stuck their head through fence and try whatever they can. the browsing is why i like running sheep with them; the sheep graze and the goats clear.

in conclusion

i know that cons list is huge but i do genuinely like my goats. and i think we all know that i just like animals that make my life objectively worse. i don't know why i'm like this. they do really suck ass sometimes though and i absolutely understand why so many people hate goats. they are absolutely not for everyone. if you drink a lot of milk you are honestly probably better off getting a cow if you want an animal that probably doesn't make you want to pull your hair out at least once a month. if you just want lawnmowers, get sheep. they aren't as personable or friendly usually but they are content to eat grass and shit and don't cause near the amount of crimes.

[penguinmerchant]

The year is 2037.

AI Mickey Mouse has been elected president for his second term, which is not bad, you think, because you just got a raise at work and now earn 8.25 DisneyBucks per hour, and it would be a shame if the currency crashed before you really had time to use it. And sure, under AI Mickey's first term the price of eggs had gone up to 16 DBs a dozen, but the Department of Health and Good Feelings had gotten that chicken influenza thing under control pretty fast this time, and the farm workers who were infected by the chickens had all the extra limbs they grew amputated by the government for a very modest sum (Goofy's really doing a great job as the director of Homeland Security) and so you can't help but imagine you might be able to buy some for 14, or even 12 DBs once Mickey settles into office again. And that means you'll be able to save a little, put some away for a rainy day. For a book, maybe, if you see one you like. If the militia fee isn't too much this year. And if Disney+ doesn't raise their mandatory service fee again.

You're waiting in line for your weekly ration of potable water when you feel your friend in line behind you tap your shoulder.

"Have you heard?" she asks, jumping up and down in nervous excitement, looking around to make sure no one else is listening. "There's News coming."

"News," you say, making a strange sound in your throat. "I'll believe it when I see it."

"Pacat's doing an interview tomorrow night," she says. "And she said she had Big News. She said---tomorrow, she said. It will be announced."

You put the bucket you use for water over your head so that you don't have to listen to the hope in your friend's voice, and the line crawls forward.

Despite yourself, the next night you find your feet bringing you into town, and you let your phone connect to ZuckNet, the free (and only) internet service that runs across America. For a moment you wish you brought your water bucket to put over your head so that your phone can't watch you before you remember that people had been jailed--or worse--for trying to evade such things, and so you plaster a smile on your face as you watch the three minute unskippable ad that plays, careful not to show too many teeth. The algorithm doesn't like it when it looks like you're growling.

Once the ad is over you know you'll have five uninterrupted minutes until another ad plays, and you go to your tumblr, still somehow kicking around in this desolate internet wasteland full of soulless AI (don't let Mickey hear you think that) and bots.

You search the trending tags, visit your faithful CaPri blogs. Nothing yet, and you think that maybe your friend was just joking with you, trying to get you to feel something other than apathy for once--when your breath catches in your throat. "Pacat" is trending, the blogs are lighting up, the news--no, not the news, the News, the News!--is here, spread to the small group of your fellow fans who still exist.

"Important news!" the headline says, and your phone beeps as it notices your increased heart rate, sending that information to the ad companies who will try to use it to make more targeted ads for you, "Pacat announces that next year--yes, next year in 2038, an auspicious year, really, can you even believe that it's happening--there will be a new volume of Fence!"

You blink harshly, and your phone sends out a warning tone as it loses connection with your corneal direction. You ignore it. A new Fence volume? That is...news, certainly, but not The News, nothing about CaPri, barely even about anything since there's always some Fence volume coming out every year or so, and it's fine and you're distantly glad that those who are fans of such a thing are getting fed---but where is YOUR News? Your promised CaPri News?

"And even more News," the headline continues, and you scroll down for a few minutes as you look for the second part of that headline, scrolling and scrolling as you look for something that looks like real words and not just ads targeted to drain you of every last DisneyBuck that you own, "the News that you've all been waiting for---"

"Captive Prince news is definitely still in the works! Stay tuned!"

We get new covers!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Edit: I got excited and forgot to say that this is from Pacat's newsletter!

[callsign-sucker]

//Sucker\\

So. Been a while since I shared my opinions on a mech.

So let's talk about the Nelson, and, because of its history and association, Albatross.

So, the Nelson is a highly mobile skirmisher chassis meant to conduct a variety of high-tempo operations. Specifically the kind of operations that IPS-N likes to conduct when on the offensive, and is, for their use, meant as a compliment to the Blackbeard in situations where ballistics are a non-starter.

On a qualitative level, I think the Nelson is decent. It does what it's designed to do well, as is the trend with IPS-N frames. However, the Nelson is one of the few times IPS-N uses paracausal tech.

The Perpetual Motion Drive onboard the Nelson serves to make it move faster, and make it shiftier, making it better at what it already does. Move fast.

Because of this drive, as well as it's manuverability, the Nelson tends to outshine the everest in conversations of fastest mech, and while the everest is faster, the Nelson isn't far behind.

And then they strapped a ramjet onto it! Because it wasn't fast enough apperently!

Now, This mech has become synonymous with Albatross, and for good reason. IPS-N makes a whole lot very good frames with a decent price tag, combine that with the agreement the two organizations have had since before thirdcom, and some people make the mistake of thinking Albatross is subordinate to IPS-N.

They're not.

Albatros cooperates with IPS-N on convoy security detail, both as an augment to IPS-N's own in-house security teams, like the ever ignominious Trunk Security, and as subject mater experts, as Albatros will often engage pirates on their own and often without any input from IPS-N.

Now, remember when I said Albatross predates thirdcom?

They were the spark that lit the Thirdcom revolution. Seccom had them listed as a "Terrorist Organization" due to their saunch anti-authoritarian position, and their willingness to act on that.

Yes, IPS-N unofficially backed them in this period, but that was because for most of the lead up to the Thirdcom revolution, IPS-N were fence sitters. They saw the writing on the wall, that there was going to be a revolution, and so the curried favor with both seccom, and the revolutionaries to hedge their bets.

Notice how IPS-N's formal agreement with Albatross only happened after it became clear that Seccom was losing.

The relationship between IPS-N and Albatross on the surface seems to be like they will always have eachother's backs. That's IPS-N lying through their teeth.

From having spent some time with Albatross on my way out of HA space, Albatross, especially the veteran leadership, many of whom are older than Thirdcom itself, views IPS-N with the same trepidation as anyone else who knows of the shady shit that they got caught doing. They would never let their organization become subordinate to such a group.

//For Cogito Ergo Sum\\

(OOC: A lot of this about albatross is because many here in the fandom make the mistake of seeing Albatross as an extension of IPS-N. They aren't. They would sooner tell IPS-N to get bent than let themselves become an extension of that which they fight against. That doesn't mean that they won't be misled, but they would never willingly or knowingly become a tool for IPS-N to expand its influence. (not to mention, IPS-N has a gameplan akin to that of the imperialist-era Dutch. They have nowhere near the territorial ambitions of, say, Harrison Armories. IPS-N is perfectly happy being space UPS/Fed-Ex, they just want to be the only game in town. That's why they have Trunk Security. To do all of that shady shit people think IPS-N has Albatross do for them.))

[mocchii-writes]

Hiii💕 Can you please do the sfw alphabet with ji-yeong or sae-byeok? Whichever’s easier for you

Sae-byeok sfw alphabet <3

Paring: Kang Sae-byeok x fem!reader

Warnings: loser fluff tehe, swearing

A/n: Lmk if you also want a Ji-yeong one!

~🍡🍡

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

She's initially closed off, but Sae-byoek feels very safe around you, so she would warm up eventually. I'm not totally sure how she would be with physical touch, but I think she'd like holding your hand at the very least. Acts of service are her love language, but she also loves it when you praise her, and she likes to give you things on occasion.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

She doesn't socialize much, so you'd probably have to be the one to start a conversation. She might not even bat an eye towards you until you do something for her, it could be to help her or just to show her you care, but she'll notice. She's pretty smart, so if you can show that you're intelligent in some way, you'll also get her attention.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Like I said before, I don't explicitly think she'd like physical touch, but she wouldn't be against it. After a rough day, she might appreciate being held before she goes to sleep or comforted in some other way. She would also probably enjoy just taking a moment to cuddle, your bodies intertwined in the early morning.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

I feel like she'd be good at cooking tbh, so as long as you could keep the house in good shape, she wouldn't be against a domestic life. She doesn't exactly dream of a white picket fence life, but she wants a good place for her little brother to live, and the thought of settling down more with you pleases her a bit.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Depending on how the relationship was, I don't think she would let them down gently. If she didn't really like them in the first place, her breakup would probably be abrupt and monotone. If she did like you, or she at least cares about you a little, she might sit you down and try to explain. She wouldn't want to hurt you, but she isn't the best with sympathy sometimes.

F = Fiancé(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Like I said, she doesn't exactly dream of the picket fence life, and she probably won't be proposing to you, but if she did, I don't think she'd make a show of it. Her parents aren't around, so she might feel a little sad about it, but she'll be okay.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

She isn't aggressive, but early into dating she's just not used to showing romantic affection. She'll secretly enjoy it when you show her love, though, and when she is ready to return it, it's pretty soft and safe. She doesn't seem like the type to be rough with you at all, but her touches are probably longer and have more meaning to them when they happen.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

I'd say she prefers getting hugged to hugging. She likes to hold you, though. It grounds her, being held, so your arms would seem like a safe place to her. She won't hug you often, but she'll always accept a hug from you.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

It'll probably take her a while to even realize she's in love with you. You might have to get used to saying it without her responding. But when it happens, it's a sweet moment of vulnerability for you two. She'd whisper it, not looking at you, and you could just smile and say it back, reassuring her.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

She doesn't really focus on other people, but if she does get jealous, she's quiet about it. She might get a little quieter, and you'd be able to notice pretty quickly. You could probably just do something sweet to distract her from her thoughts and she'll be okay.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

She probably likes nose and cheek kisses. She thinks they're really wholesome, and she'd like the feeling of them, both ways. She also likes classic kisses on the lips, and enjoys the softness of a sleepy kiss, in the morning or before bed.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

She's pretty good with kids when she wants to be. She's used to taking care of her brother, and she knows how to talk to most kids, but she probably doesn't want to. She might know how to change a diaper, I'm not sure, but she usually just avoids children.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

I think she either sleeps in or wakes up at the brink of dawn. No in-between. She wouldn't wake you up if you slept in. If she slept late so you woke her up, she would be groggy and grumpy, probably grumble something about getting sleep. However, if you don't, she's like "Why didn't you wake me up :<"

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

After a hard day, she would like to just rest with you, maybe reading or watching TV, but your touch in the evenings comforts her. If neither of you really did anything productive, she would probably just hang out or talk with you until one of you passes out.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Sae-byeok certainly isn't a very open book. We know this. If you open up to her or not, she'd be hard to crack. Of course, she comes around, and I think it would probably happen slowly, but surely. She feels safe around you, and it makes her feel better being able to talk to you.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

She rarely gets aggressive when angry and never at you. She would probably get annoyed if you were fucking with her, but she isn't bothered that much. Obviously if someone mentions her family or something in her past she would get pretty upset, but she's a pretty calm and patient person.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

She would remember most things, I think. Just because she's more of an observer in day to day life. You would mention your favorite flowers, and she might pick them up on the way home, not really thinking about how she remembered or how that part would make you happy, but she's not complaining that it does. She would also remember things that make you upset and subconsciously not bring them up.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

She loves quiet moments of affection between you two. You holding her face with just the candlelight lighting your eyes, not saying anything. She also enjoys when you guys spend a day out. It doesn't happen often unless you push for it, but she enjoys a little out and about evening. She thinks of them before bed sometimes.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

She is very ready to defend you if you need it. She doesn't take shit from anyone, and especially doesn't take any towards you. She usually refrains from violence, but sometimes it's needed. She could need your protection sometimes, and really appreciates it if you can stand or fight for her. She enjoys an equal relationship.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

She wouldn't put a lot of effort imo, but there would be a lot of thought. She doesn't seem like the type to arrange or plan ahead too much, but she may. She's more the type to pick something you enjoy, weather you prefer, food you like, and just make a day of having a nice time.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

She tends to be kind of cold sometimes. She wouldn't be very good if you guys had arguments, and she's not the type to suck up to you, usually. She would just argue dryly or whine about your behavior, but she sometimes forgets she needs to show she cares and that you don't read minds.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

I don't think she is that worried about her looks, but she wants to keep hygiene for sure. She doesn't skip showers, and she keeps herself put together for the most part. She'd fix her hair a certain way because she likes how it looks, and maybe spend a little time on outfits some days, but she's just naturally perfect, what can I say ♡

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

You're definitely a big part of her life, and you're one of her main sources of joy when she has a tough time. She would manage without you, probably, but she wouldn't enjoy it. If, for some reason, you weren't in her life, she might lessen her productivity and motivation, or she could increase it to distract her. She would feel it the most in her bed, though. It would just feel so achingly empty :<

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

She might complain, but she secretly likes it when you do her makeup or paint her nails.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habit of theirs?)

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Definitely cockiness. She hates it when someone is inconsiderate or thinks they're better than other people. She might think that way about a few people, but it's different than being fueled by pure ego. She wants someone who respects her as a human and not an authority, and returns the same.

She gets hot in her sleep. She sleeps with few layers and probably throws the blanket often. It's hard, though, cause she enjoys cuddling you. Winters are nice for bedtime, though. Sometimes, you'll wake up and see her sweating in her sleep, and you'll turn on the AC or open a window. She can't sleep when she's hot, so she won't say she's awake when you do this, but it pleases her heart, and she's reminded how sweet you are ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

I hope this doesn't suck too much, lol. I love writing for Sae-Byeok, so don't be shy with requesting herrr

~🍡🍡

[aidentitycrysis]

On the left is an official document issued to the Chinese government by the American Embassy, shared on xiaohongshu and apparently believed by normal Chinese folk, that is filled with so many lies it makes me want to rage puke- and I'm not even American. On the right is the translation of this document into English. Here's a little tl;dr-

- According to the American Embassy, the average American household income is $1.2 MILLION. This is clearly a manipulated statistic, but the method of manipulation is interesting- because for this number to make sense as an average, it would mean the wealthiest people in America could make every household millionaires and still be millionaires themselves. I don't doubt that this is, indeed, the mathematical average of American income, which is disgusting considering the income of the average American.

-According to the American Embassy, social security provides adequate healthcare, childcare, social services and pensions to a majority of Americans. They are literally saying you guys get FREE HEALTHCARE. At this point, everybody in the Western world knows this is patently untrue, no matter which way you approach the matter.

-According to the American Embassy, recent surveys have shown that Americans don't even consider 'millionaires' to be rich anymore. I don't even know what to say about this one, I'm lost for words! Every American I know would consider themselves, at the very least, profoundly fortunate if they were a millionaire.

- According to the American Embassy, food costs account for roughly 10% of household income, and a 1.3% rise in the price of groceries recently is in line with recent wage increases and therefore effectively unchanged. Is this your experience of recent increases in the cost of food? Pretty confident the answer is "LMAO no, wtf?!".

Look, I know I'm not American, but I care about several American people personally, and I care about human beings generally. I've spent time in LA and seen the homeless camps. It breaks my fucking heart to know that many of the people in those camps have done nothing to deserve it except be unfortunate enough to require a medical procedure.

Much like an abusive partner, the American government- under BOTH Republican and Democratic rule- have maintained a long running campaign of information control and disinformation that has thrived on the inability of most American people to communicate with Chinese people. Think about it- the right wing hate China because of the so-called evils of communism, and the left wing distrusts China for a slew of alleged human rights violations, few of which have been substantiated by anyone actually inside of China since the 90s. I'm forced to wonder how much truth there is to many of the things I've learned from sources that I've now found out are happy to manipulate statistics and outright lie in official government documents.

Look, I'm British, my government is evil as hell, all day every day, it doesn't matter who we vote for, they stay evil. Not only am I sick to my stomach about what an insult to humanity these documents are, it makes me wonder what lies my own government has hidden in foreign languages, away from the eyes of my working class.

Luigi said "This is an insult to the intelligence of the American people". He's right. They are insulting you. They are insulting all of humanity with this bullshit. I'm not saying put aside all your differences with people on the other side of the fence to you, but I am saying that they keep us from working together the same way they kept this document a secret- by making it unlikely that we will come together to have a rational conversation, rather than a debate, and compare notes. It's the same way they are stopping us from making any kind of meaningful change for the better as a society.

Every normal person in the West is struggling right now. We are all FUCKED, and we are only getting more fucked as time goes on. But the rich are still getting richer. The businesses we owe our paychecks to in order to survive have experienced record profits as they tell us they can't afford to pay us decently or offer a fair and affordable price for their services. This isn't just inept and indifferent- it's fucking sadistic. We need to put aside the political arguments we've been taught to have and start having conversations across the divide so that we have a chance to scare these fuckers straight at some point in our lifetime.

[sanguchitodeternera]

Hii i'm planning on updating the ocxcanon comic soon, like in this week, but for now!!! Here are some things that I think the skelebros would appreciate if their partner told them

Sans

• "It's okey Sans, you're now underground anymore"

I think he can forget that in his routine, he still have his old habits from back then and sometimes he loses hope to continue because he stills underground, but he isn't! And even if you don't know about his fear of the reset, because you're not aware, he can't be tied to that, he wants to move on.

• "You don't need to be the funny and lazybones with me, y'know?"

I don't think Sans is that hiper depressed suicidal skeleton, but i think he's a little bit more deterministic(that one philosophical current) and fakes with the ppl so nobody can really know him or get attached, more than his brother lol.

So probably hes avoiding and being so funny so you forget that he isn't telling you the truth, and even in that context, he's happy he has someone who he can trust more freely.

• "If i know who you were, i'm not gonna run, i'm gonna stay and love you more"

I have a long HC about the skelebros past, that i'm gonna rant over other day, but to me, he's so embarrased of his past, and he can't see why someone like you could love him with the knowledge of what he did.

Papyrus

• "You are really helpfull Papyrus"

He never really has been helpfull to someone, people just tend to ignore his advice and since his failed attempt to a proper fence for stop humans, or his spaghetti... and nobody ask him for help anymore, so that type of things are really heartwarming for him, he likes being usefull for the people he loves.

• "I didn't know you were that strong, thats so cool!"

For some reason that he never knew or understood, nobody seems to realize that he's strong, and capable, and hearing You think like that of him, ah, he loves that. He loves You.

• "I knew you could do it, i'm soo happy for you"

• "why i would lie to you? I know you are not stupid, i don't need or want to hide things from you"

• "You're not childish, what? You're just happy and very funny, i don't know who made you think like that but thats not true"

With these three things i think it's the same sensation for him, everybody seems to think of him like this, manchild, this incompenent, incapable, dumb and naive boy, but he's not, and he hates that type of thing, but You can see him for him, for who he is and not for what he seems like, everybody just lie and try to protect him when he don't need that, like Undyne making up that cooking lessons just to distract him from the royal guard, or Sans that keeps things away from him with his stupid jokes or white lies like he's some kind of child that need protection to preserve his innocence.

He thinks that you seeing him, is one second thing most fantastic that You can offer him, they first is you in general.

Thats all!! Byeee!! Xoxox

[ginho001]

YAYYYYY I LOVE ALL OF YOUR INHUN HEADCANONS 🤍🤍🤍🤍 I especially love reading the cute traits and habits they have. And of course the omegaverse 👀 is a big treat, I loved it a whole lot thank youuuu. Hell yes to the gihussy and 💦

Now talk to me about how they feel about each other, how they act when they're together, date ideas, things they love doing for each other, and... sexytimes 👀

anon ur lowk my best friend. i'll share my personal hcs below, but before I just wanna plug this fic that in my mind is the closest manifestation to how I believe the two would interact. this author is amazing and every fic they've written for 457 is ART and if you're looking for a great read, this is it pookie ong ong

ANYWAYS ok ok lemme spit (go read it tho if you haven't already on GOD)

starting off with gi-hun, in my mind he's very demure when it comes to the relationship. behind closed doors he likes the domesticity, physicality and romantic gestures. REASONING BEING: i firmly believe gi-hun never would have married if not for societal and familial pressure, now whether or not its bc he's gay or not (i'm personally on the fence abt that) is up to y'alls discretion. but back to the original point: he had a very idealized view of marriage until he actually got married, and something broke inside him when his marriage failed, and in-ho knows that to some degree. I imagine on valentines or some other holiday, they're just sitting in the bedroom together in the dark, and gi-hun quietly divulges he used to do big romantic gestures like this with his wife, even when he didn't have a lot to offer until things got bad in the end, and it makes him SO tender and sensitive in private, let alone in public. HOWEVER i believe this only applies to gi-hun in korea. When they go on vacation or end up going to the US, he's much more comfortable with hand holding and displaying his ring on his finger instead of keeping it on a chain around his neck like he did in korea. THAT BEING SAID. he loves in-ho. in a deeper way than he loved his wife, and he knows it. the trust is deeper, and he's true to himself, which is something that he could never do before without being shamed for how pitiful he was. in-ho accepts him in that pitifulness an out and he loves him for it. the attraction to how handsome he is and his cute little mannerisms come after.

HOLY FUCK THAT WAS LONG WINDED SORRY

on the smaller side, gi-hun really likes in-ho's hair. i think he misses when his was longer, so he's always mussing it up with his fingers.

when not in peril, gi-hun (surprisingly) loves when in-ho makes his shitty dad jokes. he likes that he can laugh with him, feels freer when he does. he knows that between them there is nothing pre-conceived, they know the worst of each other, and gi-hun looks forward to the times coming where they learn the best.

gi-hun can't cook for shit, so he splurges on expensive pastries sometimes, as he learns in-ho has a sweet tooth.

like i was talking about previous, in korea their dates aren't elaborate, they are just colleagues or friends going out to dinner, celebrating something or other with drinks. however when they head to Thailand or the US or wherever else they decide, they do old men shit. sorry, still not that elaborate. they just go on strolls, go sight-seeing, birdwatching, etc. occasionally they get gussied up in purdy suits and go into high rise sugar daddy restaurants, but primarily they are doing old man shit outside of when they are fucking. they smooch and hold hands gayly tho ofc

because i am a generic loser, i side with the "in-ho is obsessed w gi-hun" camp bc a) its true and b) its true so.

i think in-ho's obsession to some degree is fueled by his guilt. we know from HDH he still has some belief deep down that gi-hun is right, and hopes he can prove him wrong in the long run. Thus, his obsession comes from watching every micro-fucking-movement he makes and hyper analyzing like a doofus. he doesn't realize until there's a little bit of separation that there was actually a decent chunk of his hyperfixation that was actually just into him lowkey. gi-hun is different from his late wife in nearly every way save the fucking. stubbornness. hard angles and naivety, but beautiful in his humanity, something in-ho lost when his wife died. he falls in love because gi-hun has enough humanity for both of them, in spite of everything. he brings him back to the simple, past the whiskey and jazz in his sterile habitat back to the noise, something he didn't know he missed.

in-ho likes doing romantic things. bouquets, expensive cufflinks, decorating the kitchen with shitty streamers on holidays, bringing breakfast in bed. at first gi-hun was very "no, no, you don't have to" but when in-ho genuinely, unironically pitches a fit about it when gi-hun carries his breakfast in bed to the kitchen to eat at the table, gi-hun lets him. if he's not bringing him breakfast in bed he's making gi-hun a plate but feeding him off of his.

UHHHH NSFW BELOW THE CUT

these 2 have surprisingly high libidos for their age, and this is not to feed my say gex bias guys trust, its because when they r finally away from the games, their bodies aren't in survival mode and r like "oh i can fuck now" so they r getting it on like at the very, VERY least twice a week.

i am a bottom gi-hun truther. i personally don't see in-ho being willing to offer himself sexually in that way (as in reamed in the ass), which works out well for them because gi-hun gets a lot more out of it bottoming, aka the vulnerability and closeness. he likes when in-ho is right in his face during missionary, sweating and chewing on his lip because at first he is so, so scared of hurting him. they eventually figure out their groove, and gi-hun comes to find out in-ho has a spit-thing. at first he thinks it's a biting kink, but then it starts getting into spit as lube territory, or just sucking all on his neck not even to leave marks necessarily, just to see the sheen on his skin. gi-hun is less embarrassed about the times he accidentally drools thanks to that

they don't be going crazy in any positions bc old men, and in-ho's shoulder is probably fucked up from getting shot, so they're pretty generic. it takes them a wile to figure out gi-hun is flexible for no fucking reason. just one night they fucking missionary, in-ho grabs the thighs, overbalances and BOOM gi-hun's knees are bracketing his fucking head like no problem. ended up being a wobbly-leg kinda night for the both of em

gi-hun is a talker during sex. he's always asking if in-ho feels good, exclaiming his own satisfaction, etc etc. in-ho talks too, but sparingly because he doesn't want to lose control and start grunting and huffing like a wild animal. it still happens every so often though, because c'mon who wouldn't lose their shit if all the sudden you find out you can basically bend your hubby like a pretzel.

sometimes though they'll be tired as fuck but still have a libido, those times they just kinda spoon and hump, not really worried about the mess so much. those are the nights they'll talk real affectionate to eachother, and fiddle with their rings after bc they are married idc what u say.

OK MAYBE i'll share some abo stuff later as bonus, but this is already SO MUCH LONGER than i meant it to be so I will bid y'all adieu.

[nectardaddy]

MUSE . . . sugawara koushi + f!reader

                                       ✦     PROLOGUE : UZ     ✦

warnings : 17+ to read, language, illegal activities

She's already out of breath by the time she nears a fence, running so hard her lungs may as well cave in. She makes quick work of jumping it, hooking her fingers in the chain link and forcing herself up despite her body wanting to give up. 

If she stops, she gets arrested. And being arrested means losing her job. 

It's cushy, nice, but not as much pay as she'd like it to be. Although, she doesn't think of it as work most days; more often than not she loses herself within the motions, finds herself deep within a project or something of the sort. Most days, she comes home dead tired, but content. Then finds herself going back out in the middle of the night, the witching hour, to abandoned buildings or run down billboards. 

She teaches intermediate and advanced art, and art history at the high school down the road. Not even a five minute walk from her apartment. But in the dead of night, when everyone sleeps, she's a vandal - of sorts. 

“UZ eludes police again.” 

“Controversial mural downtown is spectacled to be from the vandal UZ.” 

“Who is UZ?”

Art was never a stranger to her. 

She teaches it. She lives it. She might very well get arrested for it one day. 

But she finds solace in the spray paint and secrecy. A version of herself she's more confident in, where she's allowed to be herself - express feelings she would normally leave unsaid. There's something comforting about anonymity, to hide behind the facade that was ‘UZ.’ 

But she can't hide behind shit if she's caught. So she runs for her life, for her dignity, for her sanity and well being. 

She doesn't stop until she knows she's lost the police, until she doesn't hear the hurried footsteps behind her. And she slinks into an alley with her chest on fire, and thanks a higher power she's able to go to work tomorrow. 

taglist (open, send an ask or reply to the masterlist)

@phoenix-eclipses @wyrcan @honeekyuu @eggyrocks @yogurtkags 

@bakery-anon @crypt-0rchid @hyunteru @kameyyy @nekozaki

@angelichwv @a-girl-cant-decide-on-a-name @localgaytrainwreck @standcom @moriyaku

@sahrii @cryoarm @gigiiiiislife @kawoala

[pinazee]

Truer lies

Its interesting to see Shawn starting to deal with the fall out of pretending to be psychic for so long. I think that would really wear on him after a while, and im glad it did. Personally, as an overachieving teachers pet, i would want credit for all the smart things i did. But yeah, on top of that, it must be so frustrating that he cant just be like “I KNOW WHEN PEOPLE ARE LYING BECAUSE OF THESE TELLS, NOW CAN WE PLEASE JUST DO AS I SAY BECAUSE I KNOW THINGS??” Instead, he has to say its a psychic vibe and people roll their eyes because thats not evidence (fair). Shawn even had to convince gus to trust him this time- actually his plea was more than that. He was asking Gus to believe in him as a person. Like, please trust that i still know where the line is. I doubt he thought this psych stuff would last this long though. I expect he thought it would be a fun 3-6 months just like his dad did (and probably Gus too) but it turns out it never stopped being fun. So, what, like 3 years later-yeah, that has to get to you, and also exhausting, not only because his visions were quite physical in the beginning haha. He’s basically a fraud, and knowing who he is as a person, it has to tear him up inside every time he has to lie, especially to Juliet which we know later really bites him in the ass (which i cant wait for)

Speaking of juliet, i kind of wish she would have stood up for him a little bit with lassie, because he has a pretty good record of solving cases and making them look foolish in the process, despite all the silliness and flair for the dramatics. I kind of get why she’d still be on the fence, but i think she could have explained to him that hey, its not you i don’t trust, its this guy who has a reputation for lying. But i get that for the plot of the episode and for the sake of shawns arc they couldn’t exactly do that. I guess it says something that juliet and lassie did have his back in the end which was great. Like, we don’t always believe ya but we’ll be there anyways ;)

why did they both take this bit seriously though?? Hes clearly doing a bit Lol

Lassie may talk a big talk about hating shawn but he was running those hospital halls right beside jules when they thought shawn was injured ;) he loves him case closed.

What the heck is this thing supposed to be??? I googled old handheld games amd couldn’t find it.

Jumping to lieber being the murderer is kind of just bad detective work?? Like they jumped to that conclusion very fast, and frankly, they should have caught the double shadow. I know this is nitpicky but i couldn’t let it slide. Plus, overall i think its a bit meh, crime-wise. Like i was a bit lost with how lyin ryan fit into all of it and what the original crime was but its still fun. And lyin ryan was a fun character that im surprised didnt make a return too.

P.S Lassie likes a nice mustache. I wonder why he didnt keep his mustache that we saw in the flashback of the first ep?? He could have gone full Magnum P.I. Do you think the ex wife made him get rid of it?

[callsign-rogueone]

house calls

Sawyer Henrick x reader (peach!)

words: 1.7k

🏷: set in the second half of iron flame. some soft moments in aretia with the gang before they head back to school. peach is a baby whisperer, sawyer is adorable, deep convo at the end, mentions of wildfire and mild peril (they both lived, clearly), made some more stuff up about sawyer’s family, teeny ridoc and sweetheart cameo, replacing jesinia with peach here kinda… more hints about peach’s relationship with the gods, I hope it’s not obvious that I’ve only seen snow twice and have never interacted with a baby, their next chapter will be the end of iron flame for them, including… that. (spicy chapter before this one tba!)

You aren’t expecting Ridoc to be the one to answer the door, but he offers you a grin nonetheless. “Hey, P!”

The rest of the squad turn their heads, waving from where they’re crowded into the living room, along with several riders and fliers you’ve never met.

“I was wondering where y’all ran off to,” you laugh. You stomp the snow out of your boots before you step inside, letting down the hood of your cloak. “It’s going to storm tonight, so I asked if I could go around and make some house calls before everyone gets snowed in. This is my last stop.”

Sawyer takes the giant basket you’re holding, offering his arm to hold onto as you take off your boots and set them in the heap by the door. “That’s new,” he manages, finally noticing your outfit.

“Major Aisereigh gave it to me. She said it’s a traditional Tyrrish dress. I think it’s the nicest thing I’ve ever owned,” you laugh, brushing off the skirt.

Sawyer continues to blink at you, taking it in. Nice is an understatement. It looks like it was tailor-made for you — a bodice that’s just the right amount of tight in the places that matter, strings tied in a bow behind your back to cinch around your waist before it melts into a long pleated skirt that ebbs and flows with each step you take, woven with a complex striped pattern. You’ve layered a white long sleeve underneath for warmth, but it could just as easily be worn without on a summer day to dance around in a field of wildflowers.

You’re covered from wrist to ankle, but you’ve never looked more beautiful as you do now, winter sunlight warming your skin, snowflakes melting in your eyelashes and the cold warming your cheeks.

“Say something,” Sliseag prods.

He finally finds words. “You look absolutely perfect in everything you wear, but this… this might be my favorite.”

“I think it’s mine, too. This beats those terrible robes any day. And it feels more… me than the rider’s uniform. Oh, hi!”

He clears his throat, making a hasty introduction. “This is Rhi’s sister, Raegan. Raegan, this is my girlfriend — she’s training as a healer.”

“Everyone just calls me peach,” you offer, extending a hand to shake. “And who’s this?”

“Lukas.”

“Hi, Lukas,” you coo. “You’re such a cutie. How old is he?”

“Just about six months.”

“Congratulations, both of you. How are you doing?”

“He made a good adjustment to the move, thankfully. But he’s teething now, which has been a struggle, especially at night. Neither of us are getting much sleep.”

“Oh, I bet,” you empathize. “My mom would suggest letting him chomp on a cold washcloth — but I’m sure Ridoc could set you up with plenty of clean snow for him to snack on.” You touch Sawyer’s elbow — he’s still lingering by your side. “Don’t let me distract you. And there’s snacks in there, if y’all want anything.”

————

When you finish up with Reagan and Lukas, Sawyer waves you over, half a cookie in hand. “How did you… These taste exactly like my mom’s.”

“I’m glad,” you laugh. “It’s her recipe.”

He looks at you like you’ve just told him that you genuinely believe that the earth is flat and the sky is just a blue bed sheet strung up to dry. “She gave it to you?”

You laugh. “Yes! We made them together, while you and the boys were out fixing the fence, and she wrote it all down for me. Said to hang on to it for the future when I had a household of my own.”

“Peach,” he says, way too seriously to still be still talking about cookies, “she’s never given anyone that recipe. Even my aunt doesn’t know it.” You don’t seem to understand the significance of this, but he certainly isn’t going to explain that his mother gave you the seal of approval to join the family.

“You Lucerans are weird,” Ridoc says, shaking his head, but not before he swipes a cookie out of the box.

“Take one for your girl, too,” you nudge quietly.

“I’m gonna break it in half,” he responds over his shoulder. “More romantic that way.”

You shake your head, amused. “That’s actually adorable.”

“It is,” Sawyer agrees. “Sometimes I wonder how he landed her, and then he does stuff like that.” There’s a soft silence before he speaks again. “How are you feeling? Being here?”

It’s been a few days since your arrival, and you’re still getting acclimated — getting to know everyone, and no longer getting lost on the walk between the infirmary and your room.

“It’s good,” you answer. “Different, but good. It feels like home, in a lot of ways. Like being home, but with friends.”

He gazes at the group, who are comfortably chatting and laughing as they work, spread out across the floor and crowded around every chair and table in the house. “Like it’s Harvest day, but all the time.”

“Yeah,” you say quietly. “Like that.”

There’s a soft cry from the cradle, and you turn immediately, striding across the room. “You’re okay, sweet boy,” you coo, gathering him into your arms and swaying gently to comfort him. He quiets almost immediately, content just to be held.

“How?” Sloane asks in sheer disbelief.

Sawyer looks at you, shrugging. “She’s always been beloved by animals and babies.”

“You’re dating a fairytale princess, dude,” Ridoc says with a soft laugh.

“I know,” he replies, still watching you with the little boy, who is now resting happily against your shoulder as you hold him. “She’s everything I’ve ever dreamed of.”

“You better marry that girl,” Maren orders, pointing her pen at him.

“I plan to.”

The table sits with the admission for a moment before they resume their studies.

He watches you turn to Raegan, speaking quietly so you don’t disturb the babe — you must have promised to watch him and let her get some rest, as she offers you a grateful smile and disappears through a door in the corner of the room, closing it behind her.

“You don’t happen to know any old Lucerish, do you?” Violet asks quietly, sounding exhausted.

“Only some old sayings. Farmer’s wisdom. Probably not anything that would be in there.”

“Humor me?”

You lean against the armrest of the chair Sawyer is sitting in, still holding the baby — he curls an arm around your hips, keeping you steady as you lean down to read the journal. The page she has open is covered with swirling symbols, most of which you’ve never seen before. But besides the numbers… “I know that one,” you say, gently tapping one of them with a fingernail. “Atem. Breath.”

She blinks at you, her brow creasing. “Breath?”

You nod. “There’s an old adage about harvesting fall vegetables — when you can see your breath in the morning for the fifth time that season, you should pick everything you can that day or take it inside. Otherwise the frost will kill it within the week.” You continue scanning the page. “But the rest… I have no idea. Kids aren’t taught any of this in school, especially not where we’re from. I’m sorry I couldn’t be of more help.”

“No, you helped a lot, actually. I’m gonna head back to the house; I need to talk to Brennan about this.” She stands, piling everything into her bag. “I’ll see you guys at dinner.”

You slip into her chair, tucking your legs underneath you — it’s much warmer inside than out, but it’s still a bit chilly in here.

Aretia really is like home.

——————

The fresh snow crunches under your boots as you make the walk back to school, side by side. It’s so quiet out here that you almost don’t want to speak at all, but now that you’re finally alone, you can say what’s been on your mind for the last two hours.

“Do you remember the fire?” you ask softly. “When we were still in school?”

“Of course I do. How could I possibly forget that?”

“I don’t know,” you reply, watching the trail of footprints in front of you — the rest of the squad had left a bit earlier than you did. “I kept trying to forget, but it didn’t work. Thought you’d brushed it off — you were always the brave one, not me.”

An unusually dry year had led the fields to burn easily, strong winds sweeping the fire through the landscape in a matter of hours — quickly enough that when you and Sawyer finished up your daily chores, you realized you were trapped.

“I thought we were going to die in that barn,” you admit. “I prayed for a little while, to all the gods I could think of, but eventually I just accepted it. We were hardly fifteen, but we’d lived good lives, done good things and helped feed our families and dozens of others for years. And we were together. That was it, really. That we were together, holding hands.”

He holds you a little closer as he responds. “I think about that day a lot. Whenever I’m scared, or I need to be brave, I think about the two of us sitting in that gross water trough, soaked to the bone and waiting to die, and I tell myself that we were spared for a reason. What that reason is, I have no idea. But if it’s anything, it’s probably this.”

“Probably.”

“What made you think of it?” he asks.

“It’s been on my mind a lot lately. Probably because y’all smell a little bit like smoke all the time. But hearing some of the things you all talked about today... I still only have half an idea how any of this works, but I know it’s not good, and it won’t be easy, either.”

He makes a soft noise of agreement, but lets you continue.

“My point is, I think we could get through anything as long as we were together. Including this.”

“I feel the same way. And just like then, I don’t plan on letting go any time soon.”

You laugh, remembering how you’d refused to separate, falling asleep on the floor of his grandparents’ living room still holding hands.

“Neither do I,” you say quietly. “Neither do I.”

[theballadofharkness]

Witch Hunt

Part 1.

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x Reader

Summary: After leaving your job at West View high, a surprise break in brings you face to face with West View’s own private detective ,Agatha Harkness.

Words: 2.5K

A/N: So after reading all the Agatha X Reader fics on tumblr I decided to write my own. This is hopefully going to be a multi chapter fic if enough people like it! No smut in this chapter… but there is more to come 🪻💜

You were a failure. A total and utter failure. As it turns out, taking a course to be a history teacher after finishing your history degree was the worse thing in the world when you couldn’t stand kids. Seriously what were you thinking? Just because your mom was a teacher and you had no clue what to do after graduation, that didn’t mean you’d excel at teaching asshole 13 year olds about the First World War. So there you were, looking at jobs in West View in your shitty apartment that was now in serious jeopardy now that you didn’t have a job to afford the rent. You could only sponge off your mom for another couple of weeks before you’d be forced to pack up and move back into your childhood bedroom.

Right about when you were going to snooze off to the florescent screen of your laptop you were woken to the sound of shattering glass in your bedroom.

“Fuck” you breathed and grabbed the closest thing to you that you could use as a weapon which happened to be a table lamp. “HEY!” You yelled when you saw what looked like…. A goth? In your room rifling through your drawers.

“Shit.” The teen turned to you before eyeing the window, turning to make a quick escape.

“Hey stop!” You yelled, throwing the lamp his way, missing the boy and shattering against the wall along with the broken vase he’d knocked over while turning over your room.

“Nice aim lady” he took off out your window.

“Fucks sake” your groaned and climbed out the window after him, running after him. “Hey! Stop!”

You chased him down your street and through a backroad which led to the Chinese take out on Monk street till he hit a chain link fence and you knew you had him beat. Grabbing onto the goths stupid hoodie you wrenched him down till he landed on his ass on the concrete.

“You… little shit…. I told you… to slow the fuck down” you panted as you grabbed him by the shirt collar and frog marched him back to your apartment. “Makin me run… asshole”

Shoving him into the living room you grabbed your landline “now tell me why were you in my house and what did you take or I’m calling the cops.”

“I could call them too. 18 year old boy trapped in a grown woman’s apartment? Doesn’t look good.” He sassed you back

“N-no. I’m a teacher. I’m well respected in this community” you argued back.

“You lasted a month before you quit and now you’re in debt and getting cheques from your mom in Boston” he told you, well he had you there.

“You little shit how dare you! And how did you know that?!”

“We have our ways” he shrugged.

“What were you looking for in my room?”

“The respect of your peers and a fulfilling home life. But you were fresh out of both”.

You were about to slap the smug look off of the teenager when there was a knock at your door. What now? “You” you pointed to him “stay.” You backed up to the door and opened it a crack “what?” You frowned

“I believe you have something of mine?” The woman at the door pushed past you and strode into your apartment like she owned it. “Teen” she regarded the boy on your couch who had instantly lost the air of smugness he previously had. “Apologise to the lady and let’s go”

“What?” You gaped “n-no way your son broke into my apartment!”

“Son? Oh honey no” she laughed “he’s more of a pet. And an unruly one at that. Apologise teen.”

“I-I’m sorry…” he smiled bashfully “I was taking initiative” he added.

“Apology not accepted!” You felt hysteric. “Why were you in my apartment?!”

“You worked at West View high in the history department. So you know Sarah Proctor's husband who is clearly having an affair….” Teen explained as the older woman sized you up.

“Huh? John? Oh he’s clearly sleeping with Dottie from the English department..

Nobody needs to borrow highlights that much.” You rolled your eyes “that and I’m gay so unless I’ve got a Dr Jekyll Mr Hyde situation going on you are clearly misinformed.”

“Oh no…” he breathed, his eyes darting fearfully to the woman next to you.

“Yes. Oh no indeed. We will be having a conversation first thing at my office teen.” She snapped “now up and out. You’ve taken up far too much of this woman’s time.”

“Sorry Agatha…” he stood up and walked out the door

“I’m sorry again dear. I’m sure you’ll forget about this in the morning…” she turned to you.

“Wait. Agatha? As in Agatha Harkness private detective?” You frowned “weren’t you in the paper recently? You solved a missing persons case last month? Reunited some twins right? You- you’re incredible”

“The very same” she looked you up and down “well aren’t you sweet. Why don’t you come to my office in the morning? I can reimburse you for damages and get you breakfast? How does that sound pretty girl?”

“Y-yes.” You breathed, entranced by the woman infront of you. “I mean sure yeah Um what time?”

“10 am sharp. Don’t be late.” She sauntered out of your apartment “cute pyjamas by the way kitten” she added as she shut the door behind her.

Your cheeks flushed as you looked down at your cat pyjamas in embarrassment. Oh god.

~

You walked to where google maps assured you Agatha’s office was but all you could see was Nicky’s music store. Looking around the area you spotted a door on the side of the building with peeling purple paint with an intercom next to it. You walked over and breathed a sigh of relief when the number 2 button was labelled ‘Harkness and Vidal private investigatiors’. You pressed the button and waited to be let up. Instead an older woman’s voice sounded out of the intercom

“Harkness private investigators. Who is this?”

“Oh um I’m y/n. I’m here to see Agatha” you supplied

“You don’t have an appointment listed with her. We are appointment only.”

“Oh um… Agatha said to meet her for breakfast? You broke into my house last night?”

“Oh! You’re the one that got her to put a brush through her hair. Second floor on the left dear.” She buzzed you through.

“Thank you!” You blushed, even though you very much doubted she’d spent as much time getting pretty for your meeting as you did, it was nice to know she’s maybe factored you in this morning when getting ready.

You went up to her office two steps at a time, eager to be face to face with those bright blue eyes that seem to have gotten you in a choke hold ever since she stepped foot into your apartment.

“Hello” you opened the door “uh Harkness and Vidal private investigators?”

“Just Harkness” Teen interrupted you quickly with wide eyes “it’s uh just Harkness.”

“Oh sorry the sign downstairs said Harkness and Vidal so I just thought-“

“Shh!” He quickly put a finger to your lips “we don’t say that name here”

“What Vid-“

“No! No we don’t.” He panicked.

“Okay… got it.” You frowned, intrigued as to who ‘Vidal’ was and what they’d done to make the very mention of their name illicit such a reaction.

“I’m Billy. Sorry again for last night… trying to impress the new boss you know how it is.” He smiled at you sheepishly.

“So where is Agatha?” You asked.

“Right here kitten don’t you worry” the sound of her voice filled the room, sending a chill up your spine. You twirled round to meet those blue eyes you’d been dreaming of all night. “You clean up well” she appraised you “

“Y-you too” you replied dumbly, enraptured by just how attractive she was.

“Why don’t you step into my office kitten” she smirked as she walked into her private office, expecting you to trail behind which of course you did. “So how much did your vase cost hmm?” She sat at her desk.

“Oh I have no idea it was my grandmothers” you shrugged

“I’m sorry kitten” she frowned, looking up from her cheque book

“I’m not. She was insufferable” you grinned at Agatha, making her laugh. “So… breakfast?” You smiled nervously “I um… I’m kind of broke right now as I’m sure you already know but I can cook at home?” You offered

“Well I was going to treat you kitten but I can’t pass up the offer of a home cooked meal now can I?” She cooed, rising from her desk and walking over to you in an almost predatory way. “Lead the way pet” her fingertips trailing down your spine till her hand rested on your lower back as she steered you out of her office.

~

“You’re not serious?” You grinned, sat on your kitchen counter, nursing your cup of tea as you listened to Agatha tell you about her most recent case

“And I said,"So did you learn anything? And she said yeah that I was totally using the wrong foundation brush” she chuckled, making you laugh even harder.

“Oh my god that’s brilliant” you giggled “you’re brilliant” you added as your shared laughter died down.

“You’re not too bad yourself kitten” she smiled, standing up from your dining room table to walk over to you, standing between your thighs. Any response you had prepared died on your tongue as she rested her hands on your hips. “Cat got your tongue?”

“Huh?” you breathed, eyes wide and terrified of fucking this up.

“That’s okay. We don’t need to talk” she cooed and leaned in closer till you could feel her breath on your face.

Before you could respond, her fingers were tracing the edge of your jaw. The touch was light, almost testing, as though she were deciding whether to take the next step or to let the moment pass. The heat of her fingers sent a jolt of anticipation through you, and your breath hitched.

And then, without another word, her lips were on yours. The kiss was slow at first, deliberate, as though she were taking her time to explore, to savour the moment. Agatha kept one hand on your lower back, pulling you closer, while the other cradled one side of your face and the kiss deepened. You could feel her warmth, the subtle strength of her frame, and the way she tilted her head slightly to deepen the connection. You responded with equal passion, snaking your arms around her neck to hold her as close as possible. When the kiss broke, it was only to catch your breath. Agatha rested her forehead against yours, both of you panting softly in the stillness of the room.

Her sharp, knowing eyes glinted in the natural light, the sort of eyes that missed nothing—yet this morning, they seemed almost playful, warmer than you'd expected.

“You’re a dangerous woman,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

Her chuckle was soft, low, a hint of dark amusement dancing in her gaze. “I prefer to think of myself as... captivating."

“That you are Miss Harkness.” You smiled, pulling her back towards you for another kiss, this time more urgent, a hungry tension filling the air between you. Agatha responded immediately, her hands threading through your hair, her body flush against yours. For a moment, the world outside your apartment ceased to exist. All that mattered was the softness of her lips, the heat of her touch, and the undeniable spark that seemed to flicker between the two of you.

It was only when the smell of burnt bacon filled the air and your smoke alarm began to sound out with a shrill beep that you pulled away “shit I burnt the bacon” you gasped before the two of you started to laugh. “Okay so.. cereal?”

You hopped off the counter and got out two bowls “fruity pebbles or lucky charms?” You offered

“It’s times like this I’m reminded I’m old enough to be your mother kitten. How haven’t your teeth rotted out of your head sweetheart?” She laughed as you pulled out the sugary cereal

“Hey I floss” you fired back with a smile. “Although until I find another job I may have to give up my beloved marshmallows”

Her lips quirked, "then I might have a proposition for you," she said, voice smooth and measured, but with a playful undertone that sent a flicker of warmth through you. “Why don’t you work under me sweetheart?”

“What? Me?” You turned to face her “I did a degree on the history of witchcraft I’m not exactly Sherlock Holmes”

"On the contrary," Agatha said, her tone taking on a hint of mockery, though there was something undeniably alluring about the way she spoke. "The way I see it, you’re precisely the kind of person I need—someone with the time, the smarts, and frankly..." Her voice dropped lower, teasing, as she took a slow step closer. "The looks."

You narrowed your eyes, raising an eyebrow. "Looks, huh?"

"Absolutely," she said, her gaze travelling over you in that calculating way that made you feel as though she was trying to memorise every inch of you. "I wouldn’t mind some eye candy around the office, after all. It does help with morale."

Your lips curved into a wry smile. "Oh, is that all I’m good for? A bit of eye candy to brighten up your day?"

She leaned in just a fraction, close enough that you could feel the warmth of her breath against your skin. "I’d say you’re much more than that," she murmured, her eyes locking with yours in a way that felt both intense and intimate. "But if you want to flatter yourself into thinking you’re just decoration, that’s your prerogative."

You giggled again, the tension between you both thickening, and it wasn’t lost on either of you. Agatha was far from subtle, but then again, neither were you.

"I have to admit," you said, tilting your head slightly. "The idea of working for you does sound tempting. What’s the catch?"

She straightened up, clearly enjoying the back-and-forth. "No catch," she said smoothly. "It could be a good arrangement for the both of us, don’t you think?" The flicker of amusement in her gaze suggested she was toying with you, but you could tell she was being entirely serious.

She took another step closer, close enough now that her fingers brushed against your wrist, the lightest touch but enough to make your pulse quicken.

You didn’t speak immediately, weighing your options. But then, with a grin that matched hers, you shrugged. "I suppose I could give it a go. After all, who could resist working for someone with such an intriguing offer?"

Agatha’s smile widened, and there was a brief moment where she held your gaze—intense, sharp, and just a little bit dangerous.

"Good girl," she said, her voice laced with something that was almost a purr. “Now..." She stepped back slightly, her eyes glinting with renewed mischief. "Shall we discuss the details over a bowl of lucky charms?"

You couldn’t help but laugh softly. "Lead the way, Detective."

And as she turned towards the kitchen, you followed, knowing full well that whatever this "job" might be, it was bound to involve far more than just work.

[dystopicjumpsuit]

Bacara x reader? 👀

Yeah! Bacara x reader!

Nobody Loves Bacara

A/N: Why yes, this is the long-awaited companion to “Everybody Hates Neyo.” Usual disclaimers apply; Bacara and Neyo are the toxic twins of the GAR, and nothing about this interaction is healthy.

Pairing: Commander Bacara x Reader (Fem; has hair, daddy issues, a justifiably bad attitude, and a high body count)

Rating: M (mature content intended for readers 18+; minors DNI) 

Wordcount: 3.6K

Warnings and tags: strong language; mutual antagonism; verbal/emotional abuse (surprisingly not by Bacara); smoking and/or drug use (depending on how you HC deathsticks); SMUT; anonymous sex; semi-public sex; unprotected PIV; fingering; oral sex; spitting; light degradation; rough sex; revenge sex; cum play; jokes about murder; DJ needs an exorcism

Summary: After witnessing an unpleasant interaction, an unknown clone offers to help you forget your problems.

Suggested Listening: 

This fic smells like: Jasmin et Cigarette by Etat Libre d'Orange (cigarette smoke and an unused condom)

Masterlist | Sign up for my tag list

Marshal Commander Bacara leaned against the durasteel wall of a Republic base that officially did not exist, on a moon whose location was heavily classified, enjoying a rare moment of silence. He shouldn’t be out there, he knew—particularly not in the middle of the night, and particularly not without his armor. It was dangerous, exposed. It was also the first moment of Force-damned peace and quiet he’d had in weeks. 

He gazed up at the stars, tracing the constellations that had been unfamiliar when he’d arrived, but which he now recognized with ease. The calls of nocturnal creatures echoed through the darkness, emanating from the forest grew densely up to the edge of the base. They weren’t likely to come near; not with the plasma fences set up around the perimeter. And so Bacara relaxed against the durasteel wall, finally enjoying some Force-damned peace and quiet.

Alas, the moment of tranquility was shattered as the small side door slid open and a woman stormed out, carrying a commlink.

“—can see your issues from a parsec away, and they avoid you like the blue shadow virus because you're so goddamn difficult! You are too farking broken for anyone to love—"

The transmission cut off abruptly as you flung the commlink to the ground and stomped on it until it shattered, then snatched up the pieces and hurled them into the darkness with an enraged scream.

“Kriffing scughole!” you snarled, your voice hoarse.

Bacara couldn’t quite suppress a huff of quiet amusement at your thoroughness in destroying the commlink, and you whirled at the sound.

“The kark are you?” you demanded.

“What, are you some tragic character from an old romance holoflick?” he asked. “No need to take it out on me because you got dumped.”

“What, are you some fuckin’ prick who likes to make people even more miserable than they already are?” you snapped back. 

“No need to get your tits in a twist,” he said. “You can’t put on a show like that and expect me not to break out the Mantell mix. Just bein’ honest. You’d do the same.”

“No, I wouldn’t,” you spat. “I would never twist the vibroblade in a total stranger and justify it by calling it ‘honesty.’ That's not honesty, it's just sadism.”

“Don’t be an idiot,” he said, ignoring your growl of fury. “A sadist gets off on inflicting pain on other people.” 

“Are you going to pretend you aren’t enjoying being a raging asshole to me?” you demanded.

“I might be enjoying it a little,” he admitted. “But that's not sadism.”

“Yes it is, you absolute—cabbage! That is exactly what sadism is.”

“I’d say ‘voyeur’ is more accurate in this case,” he remarked conversationally. 

You arched a brow at him. “Are you saying you’re getting off on this?”

He blinked. “Wait, ‘cabbage’?”

“Not a denial,” you observed, your eyes flickering down his body. “Interesting.”

Dank farrik, he hadn’t been turned on before, but under your assessing glance, he felt his body respond. He shifted, turning to give you a better view. He wasn’t stupid; he’d heard the natties gossipping about the fit of the black body gloves the clones wore under their armor, and he was fully aware of just how little they concealed the anatomy.

“You like what you see?” he asked.

“I don’t see anything,” you said flippantly. “But there’s a microscope back in my lab.”

He stifled a laugh. “That was uncalled for.”

“Oh, now who’s a whiny little bitch with your tits in a twist? Are you gonna cry?”

He burst out laughing. “You know, I’m starting to like you.”

“Don’t tell me you’re a masochist, too,” you quipped, but your voice lost its hostile edge. “I kinda like you, too. It's fun to bitch you out. Nice to meet somebody who can serve it back to me instead of crying in the locker room.”

“That’s… suspiciously specific.”

You shrugged, not bothering to deny that you spoke from personal experience.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours,” you replied.

He tilted his head in acknowledgment, but didn’t respond. Your reticence didn’t matter. He recognized you now. You were one of the base’s medics; you looked different in civvies than in your usual drab medical uniform, but it was unquestionably you. He outranked you by so many degrees that it was laughable. There was no way you recognized him; otherwise you never would have dared address him so disrespectfully.

It was kind of sexy, actually.

You reached into your pocket and pulled out a packet of deathsticks. “Want a smoke?”

He looked down at the packet, which was extremely contraband and unquestionably his responsibility to confiscate and destroy.

“Yeah,” he said. You passed him the pack and lighter. “Thanks.”

He lit a deathstick and handed them back to you, and you leaned against the durasteel wall next to him as you lit your own and pocketed the pack.

You inhaled deeply. “So who’d you piss off to get stuck on this rock?”

“Mouthed off to the general,” Bacara lied. “He didn’t like it.”

You laughed quietly. “I hear you.”

“You got a story along those lines, too?” he asked curiously.

“Something like that.” You exhaled a long stream of smoke as you closed your eyes and tilted your head back.

He watched you, taking a moment to appreciate the graceful curve of your neck and the blissful expression on your face. “You’re hot, you know that?”

Your eyes blinked open in surprise, and you turned to look at him under lowered lashes. “You’re no slouch yourself. Too bad about your personality.”

You smirked, and he realized he was staring at your mouth. He looked away and took a long drag of his deathstick. 

“So… what do you like to do for fun?” he asked somewhat awkwardly, wondering just how badly he was about to blow the whole conversation.

You didn’t reply immediately, and when he glanced to the side, he saw that he apparently wasn’t the only one with an oral fixation. He turned toward you and leaned in.

“I think you meant to give me an actual answer there,” he murmured.

You looked him dead in the eyes. “Clones.”

He paused. “... Excuse me?”

You shrugged, and somehow the movement brought you closer together. “You asked what I like to do for fun. The answer is clones.”

“What the kriff does that mean?” he asked, turning a little more toward you.

“Do I need to spell it out for you?”

“Yeah,” he said, glancing down at your mouth again. “You’re gonna have to spell it out for me.”

“It means,” you said, leaning closer, until he could feel the warmth of your breath on his lips, “I like…” Your gaze slowly traveled down his face. “to F. U. C. K. clones.”

Your tongue darted out to brush over his lips. Your touch was so light, and it happened so quickly, that he almost wouldn’t have believed it if his eyes hadn’t been riveted to that sexy, vicious mouth of yours. His breath stuttered.

“You, uh… do that often?” he asked. “With clones?”

You shrugged. “Everybody needs a hobby.”

“And yours is making love with random clone troopers on military assignment at the ass end of the galaxy?”

“‘Making love,’” you laughed. “You’re adorable.”

“What do you call it?” he asked.

“Fucking.”

“That’s a lot less poetic,” he observed.

“Truer, though.”

“Not as romantic,” he pointed out.

“Do I look like the romantic type?” you asked.

"Actually... yeah. Yeah, you kinda do. You're so damn pretty, and you got a look in your eyes like there's a whole world beneath the surface."

Your eyebrows snapped together as you met his eyes, and then you looked away. 

“Of course,” he continued, “you also look like you’ll kick anyone’s ass if they tell you that.”

You stared out into the darkness as you took another long drag of your deathstick. “Where exactly do you think this is headed?”

“I have no idea,” he confessed, stroking his fingers under your jaw to tilt your face back toward him. “But I want it to go somewhere. Hopefully not toward an ass-kicking.”

“How about against this wall?” you suggested. “I could use a distraction.”

“I can work with that,” he said.

“Good,” you replied. “For a minute there I thought you were gonna get all sappy.”

You weren’t entirely certain why you found yourself drawn to the nameless clone. Force knew a hookup had been the last thing on your mind as you’d rehashed the same argument you’d been having for the past decade. You inhaled the last dregs of your deathstick, trying to ignore the way those cruel words echoed in your mind.

“Too farking broken for anyone to love.” 

You dropped the butt of the deathstick into the dirt and ground it beneath your heel though you could extinguish the hurt along with the embers.

As if he wasn’t the one who broke you. 

The clone was still smoking, and when you glanced at him, the glow of the deathstick illuminated hard, cold eyes that watched you without blinking. From his GAR standard haircut to his lack of tattoos, you would have thought he was a shiny, if it weren’t for those deadly eyes.

Well, the eyes, and the body, if you were honest. Despite your earlier taunt, you couldn’t deny that he looked good. Damn good. All the clone troopers were in peak physical condition, but this one—this one was a kriffing specimen. He was thick and broad, with muscles honed from years of combat, and you would eat your military-issued boots if he didn’t also have specialized training. You’d patched up—and done other things with—enough troopers since the war started to be able to spot the difference between the regular clones and the commandos, and there was no doubt in your mind which group your mystery clone belonged to.

His gaze didn’t falter as you inspected his body. He didn’t preen like a narcissist, nor did he shy away. He simply watched you, watching him. The air seemed to thicken between you. You reached out and rested your fingers on his chest, then traced down over the hard expanse of his abdomen. When you reached his waistband, you slipped your fingertips beneath the fabric and stroked them over his smooth, warm skin.

“Straight to business, then?” he asked.

“What, do you need a dozen roses?” you asked.

He laughed quietly. “Might be nice.”

You slid your hand further beneath the fabric, flattening your palm against his hip.

“The, uh, ‘kriffing scughole,’” he said. “That your boyfriend?”

“Hardly,” you replied. “It’s my father.”

His expression didn’t alter, but his eyes flickered down your body and back up to your face. “What’s his problem?”

“Every decision I’ve ever made,” you said evasively. “Plus he hates clones.”

Slowly, very slowly, he took the deathstick out of his mouth and extinguished it against the durasteel wall of the base, then flicked the butt out into the darkness. He raised his hand to cup your jaw in his palm, his fingers pressing lightly against the side of your neck as his thumb brushed over your lips. Then he slid his hand to the back of your head, threading his fingers through your hair as he tugged it gently, tipping your head and exposing your throat.

His mouth descended onto your skin, and he dragged his tongue languidly from your collarbone up to your ear. You shuddered quietly, your body instantly reacting to the sensation.

“Fuck that salty old bastard,” he whispered. “You want me to make you forget him?”

“Yeah…” you breathed.

The heat of his breath ghosted over your skin as he closed his lips on the shell of your ear and then turned his attention back to your neck. He worked you over slowly, taking his time to explore your skin and find all the spots that made you shiver and moan. He tested your reactions methodically, using his lips, tongue, and teeth to find the most effective tactics to take you apart.

You launched a reconnaissance mission of your own, exploring his body, sweeping your hands over his arms and shoulders, wrapping your arms around his waist, pressing against him luxuriously. In return, his hands roamed over your body, pulling you tight against him, stroking your back and sides, fondling and squeezing your tits, and finally stealing beneath your clothes to caress your bare skin. 

As he cupped your pussy in his large, warm hand, he let out a grunt that sounded almost pained as he discovered the extent of your arousal. He abandoned his post at your neck and dropped to his knees, gripping the waistband of your trousers and yanking you toward him. He jerked down your pants without bothering to unzip them, as though he couldn’t spare even that much time before plunging his tongue into your wetness.

He groaned as he tasted you, gripping your ass and pressing your body against his face as he thrust his tongue frantically into your cunt. Your trousers prevented him from spreading your thighs enough to give him the access he so obviously wanted, so he impatiently pushed them down to your ankles and lifted your thigh onto his shoulder. He dived into you, his eyes drifting closed as he devoured you.

His strong hand slid up the inside of your thigh, and his fingers stroked your pussy, but before they entered you, he gave one final, mind-blowingly pleasurable suck to your clit, then withdrew slightly, staring up your body into your eyes to make sure you were watching. You felt two of his fingers slide over your entrance and spread you open, then he leaned in and spat into your cunt.

You felt it splatter against your clit, and you nearly came on the spot. You barely had time to gasp before his fingers swirled over the saliva, circling your clit and spreading the slick fluid over your pussy before plunging into you. He pleasured you roughly, stretching you out with his fingers as he sucked and licked your clit, and before long, your legs began to quiver uncontrollably.

Hearing your stifled and increasingly desperate moans, he pulled away and looked up at you again.

“Gonna come?” he asked.

“Uh,” you panted. “Yeah.”

“Good.”

He leaned forward, but you stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. He glanced up at you questioningly. 

“Can—” You licked your lips, utterly mortified to make the request. “Can you spit on me again?”

His eyes never lost that cold, emotionless expression, but his mouth twisted into a smirk. “Filthy.”

You weren’t proud of the hoarse moan you let out when he called you that, but to his credit, he showed no sign of judging you for it—though he definitely noticed. He never stopped working you with his hand, and now he pressed his thumb on your clit even as he continued to thrust his fingers into you with devastating precision. You trembled on the edge of an orgasm as he leaned close to your cunt and locked eyes with you. He spat, and you came so hard your vision blacked out. Your leg buckled, and he caught you just in time to prevent you from toppling to the ground.

He stood quickly. You clung to his shoulders for support as he pulled the bottoms of his body glove down just far enough to free his cock.

“Yeah?” he asked.

You nodded, too blissed out to speak as you basked in the aftershocks of one of the most intense orgasms of your life.

“Say it,” he ordered.

“Yes,” you gasped.

He ran his hand down your thigh and hooked it behind your knee, and the instant your leg wrapped around his waist, he thrust into you. You were well prepped, but it was still a massive, abrupt stretch, and you cried out. He clamped his hand over your mouth.

“Surveillance,” he explained curtly.

You nodded your understanding, but he didn’t move his hand—and a good thing, too, because he set a merciless pace, fucking you hard, fast, and deep.

“Too bad you called in a tactical strike on your commlink,” he murmured, sinking his teeth into your neck. “Otherwise you could send your old man a holovid of his precious little girl getting destroyed by one of those clones he hates.”

You let out a sound that was something between a groan and a sob, and he moved his palm off your mouth so you could respond. 

“I—like—you,” you panted, the words punching out with every brutal thrust of his cock. “You’re—fuck!—devious.”

His teeth flashed in the moonlight. He hooked his arm under the leg you had wrapped around his waist and shoved it abruptly against your shoulder, bracing his hand against the wall as he pounded into you so hard it almost knocked the air out of your lungs. He covered your mouth again to muffle your scream, but after the initial hoarse cry, he moved his hand down to your neck and traced his thumb over your throat. His lips crashed into yours, his tongue sweeping into your mouth as he kissed you deeply, and you tasted your own arousal on him. It occurred to you that this obscene coupling was, in fact, the first time he’d kissed you on the mouth.

Who says romance is dead?

A deep, quiet growl rumbled from his chest as he kissed you with a ferocity that was almost unsettling. He didn’t let up, didn’t give you a chance to catch your breath as he chased his own pleasure. You were under no illusions that any of this meant anything: after all, you were using him just as much as he was using you. And it was kriffing hot.

The durasteel of the wall was hard and unyielding behind you, and the force of his thrusts only intensified as he ravaged your mouth. It hurt just enough to feel good—amazing, actually—and before long, you started to feel your body winding in on itself again. 

Abruptly, he pulled out of you and thrust hard against your hip. You let out a low howl of rage and frustration into his mouth as you felt the heat of his cum spurt across your pelvis and belly. He groaned, but didn’t pull away from your mouth as he slumped heavily against you, dropping his hand to your cunt and sliding his fingers deep into you again. He knew exactly what he was looking for. The instant he found it, he zeroed in on it, not wasting any time with pleasantries. His finger moved in tiny, rapid motions with the perfect amount of pressure, and within seconds, he wrenched another orgasm forcefully from your body, stifling your cries of pleasure with his tongue.

You twitched away from him slightly as your body began to pass from pleasure into overstimulation, and he slowly withdrew his fingers from you. Dragging them lightly across your hip and belly, he traced them through his cum before wiping it firmly off your skin.

“Sorry about your shirt,” he murmured.

“Are you fuckin’ kidding me?” you demanded irritably.

“No,” he replied, deadpan. “I really am sorry.”

“That’s not what I—” You cut yourself off, then sighed, “Kriff you, buddy.”

“Already did,” he smirked. “Hope it’s not dry clean.”

“I’m more concerned about getting back to my quarters covered in your jizz.”

“Nobody’s awake,” he shrugged. “Besides, it’s not that bad.”

“It isn’t?” you asked, glancing down.

“Nah, I lied. Anyone you meet is gonna know.”

You stared at him for a moment, and then you started to laugh. You dropped your forehead to his shoulder as you giggled helplessly. He leaned his face against your head, and you felt the telltale huff of his breath as he joined you silently. Eventually, your giggles faded away, and you sighed.

“Thanks for pulling out. I have an implant, but still. I’m a medic. I should have been more careful.”

He shrugged. “No offense, but I don’t want my kids to have your shitty dad for a grandfather.”

“Holy kark, can you even imagine?” you said with a short laugh. “He’d have a coronary if I let a clone knock me up.”

He exhaled quietly through his nose as he pressed his lips into your hair. “If you ever want to put the old fuck in the ground and get away with it, comm me, and we can do this again with even less protection.”

“I don’t even know who you are,” you pointed out. “How am I supposed to comm you?”

“Solid point.” He didn’t volunteer his name, and you didn’t ask. 

The cool night air gradually became uncomfortably chilly on your bare legs, and you suddenly began to feel awkward as hell. 

“I should get back to my quarters,” you mumbled.

You pulled away and tried to figure out exactly how he’d managed to turn your pants inside-out without ever fully removing them. He watched with those cold, expressionless eyes as you dressed. It was almost disconcerting, except every so often you’d catch him looking at your body, or your mouth, and you knew he wasn’t as impassive as he appeared. Once you had pulled yourself together, he walked with you to the side door and keyed in his security code. The door hissed open, and as you passed through it, his fingers closed around your wrist, the pressure warm and surprisingly comforting. You turned to him, your question unspoken.

He released your wrist and stared expressionlessly into your eyes for a moment, then said, “He’s wrong about you.”

You didn’t reply, just stared back at him. After a brief silence, he released your wrist and stepped away. The door slid closed with him on the opposite side, and you turned to make your way to your quarters, suddenly feeling a little less alone.

Taglist, eh?

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@burningnerdchild @saneabandoned @heidnspeak @maniacalbooper @mae-lou-ron

[skimmingmilk]

Hi, thanks again for answering my first ask about Tails and Shadow and Sonic! Similar question here, do you have any headcanons/ideas/musings about Tails and Sharp that you can share? I love their dynamic in the Sharp Edges collection you wrote, and I'm a sucker for any Sonic Prime AU where Tails is the one who interacts with other versions of Sonic. Thanks!

Hi! No problem, I love answering questions where I can and talking things out :)

Ah! I'm so excited you want to know more about Sharp and Tails! :D That's so cool, thanks for being interested! I also really love Tails getting to interact with other versions of Sonic, so I'm happy to do my part to add to it <3

Sharp is (only a little) reluctantly following along with Tails's scheme under the guise that he just needs to make sure the kid keeps a low profile and doesn't end up back on Satine Rouge's radar while they're in Rogue's Row. He can't have his reputation damaged, after all, it's what allows him what little freedom he has to help people. But it's also exciting! Helping Tails on these missions gives him a boost of adrenaline that he's been kinda missing. And he doesn't even have to pretend to kill anyone!

The two of them are very similar to how Nine and Sonic are, they bond quick because they work well together and because Sharp is so similar to Sonic, just a little... sharper. They're also pretty snarky with each other, which they both enjoy, but Sharp will downplay Tails's accomplishments without remorse in a way Sonic would never. Sharp isn't as sensitive to striking an insecure nerve because he doesn't know it's there.

Tails can handle it for the most part, since he's a little more aware of Sharp not being Sonic than Sonic was of Nine not being Tails. He's taken aback occasionally by Sharp's bite, especially when it's anger that's directed at him. He can handle sarcastic quips and even the threats of violence (because he knows he won't follow through), but sometimes things get a little raw and feelings are hurt. But there's still so much Sonic in Sharp that Tails can't help but care about him. Just like it's so easy to forgive Sonic (almost annoyingly so), Tails forgives Sharp as naturally as breathing.

And Sharp's not used to that. It's every rogue for themselves where he's from. And while he's done his best to make sure others have a chance at a fresh start, no one's ever returned the favor. No one's ever cared.

So Sharp and Tails butt heads more than Sonic and Tails do, especially once they leave Rogue's Row to search for more of the prism shards. They're not completely in sync. Mostly because Tails believes Sharp can be more than what he lets himself, and Sharp doesn't want to be told who he is by someone who barely knows him. He also doesn't want to be responsible for anyone other than himself, but is frustrated by how easy it is to want to look out for this lost kid. And how much this kid's opinion of him matters. He tries to resist the attachment at first, but just like Nine found hope and happiness in Sonic, Sharp finds the same meaning in Tails. His bond with him opens him up to become someone that will eventually be the person Nine needs (and Nine's going to get a bit of an extra journey to complement that, too).

Tails will also get to interact with two other Sonics in that AU, too! Drift (from No Place) and Snare (from Boscage Maze), though Snare's name might still change... His bond with both of them is still special, too, but when they meet Sails and Mangey, they're able to bond with them much sooner than Sharp is able to bond with Nine. Sharp and Nine don't really connect until the very end of the adventure, since both of them are too attached to Tails and Sonic, respectively.

Sorry, this totally got away from me! I have so many feelings about my Prime AU and every intention to write more of it if I wasn't so behind on Picket Fence stuff. I'll leave a little snippet of Sharp and Tails chatting though as a treat <3 I can't remember if I've ever shared it before, so sorry if I have, but it takes place a bit after "Keep a Sharp Eye."

Tails sighed at his Prower Paradox Prism Position Predictor Mark 5 when it showed no sign of there being anything remotely like the energy signature of the Paradox Prism nearby. "It's gone." "Told ya it was still busted." Tails ignored him. "But my calculations were precise. Nothing else gives off any kind of energy readings remotely similar. Something had to have triggered it. Or at least had enough of a disruptive frequency to confuse the P.2.5.P." "Weird. Maybe it has something to do with the other you I just saw." Sharp cupped his chin, foot tapping thoughtfully. Tails's attention snapped to him so hard he nearly gave himself whiplash. "What?" "There was another you up in the trees. Right when your gizmo thing stopped working." Sharp twirled his index finger in the direction of the P.2.5.P. Tails gaped at him. "Why didn't you tell me?" "Well, it looked like he was kinda trying to kill you. Like everyone in this city," Sharp reminded him, an edge to voice befitting his name, before he leaned back with a shrug. "Thought it was better if you didn't know you were being actively sniped." Tails could still only stare at him slack-jawed. There were plenty of times Sonic had rendered him speechless over the years, but the dissonance of what he knew about these two versions of his best friend and all their other friends was thoroughly giving his processing capabilities a run for its money. He needed an aspirin. "I thought you said you'd never seen another me in this dimension?" Tails finally ground out. Sharp narrowed his own eyes at his tone. "I hadn't. You're the first you I've ever seen in my life. That guy up there was the second."

[wishingxuponxstars]

That was an interesting rule for a healer. Couldn't even ask about someone's past? Well, if that was the way Arthur wanted it, Otto wouldn't complain. It's not like he had much to talk about anyway.

The headaches had always been more of a concern than his memory anyway. Seeing the blue drink made him feel a bit at ease. He immediately did as Arthur suggested, swishing it in his mouth. It didn't taste too medicinal like he'd been worried it would. It was mostly minty, with an herbal aftertaste. "Thank you, Arthur."

Unlike his host, Otto ate slowly. His back was straight and he didn't even open his mouth while he was chewing. The way he picked up his pastries spoke of a refinement the man himself didn't seem to notice.

"Well, thank you. I'm taking it slowly so I can make sure it's done well." And so he didn't exhaust himself. "Maybe once it's done ... well we'll see if you like it first." But he was still hoping that once it was done, he could find some other project here. He didn't get wary glances or pitying remarks from Arthur like he did in the village.

"It's okay. I did come out of nowhere. I don't need you to be friendly anyhow. I'm kind of intruding. Perhaps you could just be yourself? And we'll learn to get to know each other a bit more. Maybe I'll even figure out what being myself means to me."

He chuckled, taking a sip of his tea again. "Its odd, not remembering anything about my past. I still can't figure out what I did for a living, but maybe I'm going about it the wrong way. Maybe I should try to find what I enjoy first. After I finish the fence, I mean," he added quickly. It was probably too soon to talk about discovering hobbies when he'd just started working for Arthur this afternoon.

The unofficial rules were to never ask. As of now, he wasn't a client. He'd need time to brew what was asked of him. "If you're gonna go from handy man to my client, we've got to go over boundaries. I can't ask about your past. You may share, freely. But I cannot ask unless it's prudent to your treatment." Amnesia. Headaches. Both, together? Arthur knitted his brows together. If it wasn't a bodily ailment, it might be a hex. He was out of practice. His magic was more in balance with the earth. His younger brothers took an interest in untangling darker spells. "I can soothe your head. I keep those on hand. It's one of my most requested potions. But amnesia is more difficult. Wait here." It seemed like he had used magic to reappear. In truth he had only gone off around the corner where the kitchen was. He placed a small glass vial beside Otto's teacup. The liquid was blue and, once uncorked, had a pleasant minty aroma. "Swish that around your mouth and drink. If it's not gone by the time I finish dinner, you take a second dose." Arthur had returned to his seat and had shoveled one of the morsels into his mouth. With his mouth still full, he grumbled out an order. "Eat. Won't get better unless you have a full stomach." He swallowed down the food and leaned back in the chair, trying desperately to relax. All he wanted was privacy. Now he might just have a roommate. "Fine. I'll fix you up and give you the room. You fix my fence. It's a proper trade... But you can't call yourself a burden. My friend told me you've got quite a few posts up. This time, my fence might not fall over!" He flashed a well-meaning grin. "I'm sorry. I don't really entertain. I'm trying to be friendly, but I don't think it's working. I'm not as bad as my brother, Lee. But we're the least personable of the family... I'm sorry you're stuck with me. I just don't trust people prowling around."