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[merbear25]

Finding out how sensitive you are

With such beauty succumbing to his touch, how could he not adore the sight of your pretty flushed form? Indulge him a little, won’t you?

a/n: I know it’s a random mix but it is what it is.

CW: NSFW! MDNI! fem!reader, some fluff, headcanons, vaginal penetration, brattaming, rough sex, overstimulation, possessiveness, orgasm denial, creampie

Corazon, Law, Kid, Caesar

Corazon: Seeing tears swell in your lovely eyes, he couldn’t help but feel slightly bad, even if the tears were from the pleasure he was giving you. Offering words of encouragement as he quickened his pace, he held you closely. The sensation of your slick walls gripping him was making holding back difficult, coercing you to let go on his cock. Feeling you lose yourself on him filled him with an immeasurable sense of satisfaction, knowing that he helped bring you to the heights of euphoria. Releasing within you, the both of you are united in body and soul.

Law: Feeling you tightening around him, his hot breath bathed your delicate neck commanding you to pace yourself. When you were unable to hold back, he abruptly pulled out; his glare at your refusal still held a dark lust. As you begged for him to release you from these shackles, he agreed so long as you behaved yourself, relishing in the waves of ecstasy properly. Filling you back up, his thrusts were determined to put your will to the test. Despite it taking each fiber of your being, you kept your word. When finally given his grace, you fully unraveled on him and he followed suit, pouring his built up desire into you.

Kid: With that look of being meek prey, you knew the hold you had on him. Relishing in the sight of you, he growled as he leaned over you. Telling you that you needed to be punished for this shameful display, he tangled his fingers in your hair and yanked your head back. Yelping at the sudden cruelty, he slapped your ass with an open palm. Hissing at you to be quiet, he ruthlessly bullied himself into you. With a raw display of lust building up between you, the final thrust snapped all sense of control, letting the both of you bask in the afterglow.

Caesar: You were putting on quite a show for him. Such a delightful display of submission would only entice him to test your limits. Each twitch from your weakened form tested his own ability to hold back. He wanted to soak in your submission to him for as long as he could. Pulling you closer, he cooed at you, his opiate laced words fanning the flames of passion. Writhing under him, your tearful begging fed into his ego. Giving into your sweet pleas, he reminded you that you were his. Riding the tidal wave, you both came crashing down as the waters of your lust washed over you.

[nishiyako]

Ganked (NSFW)

Paring : Shigaraki x Sleeping!Reader

Tags : Somnophilia, CNC, Creampie, Fingering, Vaginal Penetration, Sloppy make-outs, Established Relationship, Reader wakes up, Thigh rubs, Aftercare if you squint, Gamer shiggy, Fluffy ending

Summary : After a rough night, Tomura sees you so perfectly vulnerable on his bed. pissed and horny, he gives into his instincts, he's only human.

(Gank - a video game slang that means to kill, defeat, or take advantage of a weaker or unexpecting player)

Tomura slammed down the mouse on top of his mouse pad, instantly regretting his decision when he heard you shift in your sheets. He was afraid you’d wake up, but you were long gone since 9 pm. You looked so comfortable and serene in his bed, wearing the hoodie you stole from him.

He wished he could be the same, playing what felt like the hundredth game of the night.

The screen illuminated his keyboard as he typed a sarcastic “Nice.” In the chat, openly being disappointed in his teammates and their idiocy. The game was beyond repair, and there were no possible ways he could save the match except to call an early forfeit.

He wonders why he keeps coming back to this shit game.

He looked back at the defeat screen, cracking his tense knuckles, thinking if he played another round, everything would work out. Maybe his next team wouldn't be so shortsighted and know how to play the game right.

He minimized the tab as he didn’t even care about seeing the endgame stats, knowing he did all the work. his eyes widen, seeing the time in the corner of his monitor. He sighs in annoyance, knowing he probably should be joining you in bed at this time. Not that he didn’t want to. He just wanted to be able to show you something cool when you woke up.

But he’s played unlucky match after unlucky match. It seems like it's been forever since he actually won a game without carrying the whole thing.

He takes off his head phones, Tomura gets off his gamer chair, cringing at the squeaks it made in his wake, making the headache his teammates give him worse.

His eyes widened once more, seeing the state you were in. you looked perfect.

You were sound asleep, completely defenseless as you kicked the covers off of yourself, your hair spread on the pillow, framing your comfortable expression as his hoodie draped over you, slightly exposing your thighs peeking through and he swore he saw the cute pink fabric in between your legs, so thin it felt like he could rip it off you.

He placed his hand over his nearly drooling mouth, making his hand run through to his jaw before placing it on his nape. He judged the situation, remembering a few weeks ago you did say somnophilia was hot, but would that count as a yes?

If it was, did you plan this? Was this what you wanted? Or if it wasn't, would you forgive him?

He took his chances, already having a shitty night. It's what he deserved. it's what he needed.

He kneeled over you before spreading your legs open and putting his between them, locking them around his waist.

He tested the waters, giving your thighs a gentle rub, making sure he avoided using all five fingers.

As he moves closer to your core, he could see your folds against the thin fabric, his hand slowly creeping towards the silky fiber. He saw as you shifted against the bed, having a slight wince on your face before going back to your peaceful state. Were you awake?

“Hey, angel.” his raspy low voice called out, “You awake right now?” he asked, but he’d be met with no response.

He took a weak sigh before finally slipping your panties to the side, coating his middle and ring finger with his tongue, before slowly slicking it up your folds, rubbing against your clit. He heard a mumble come out of your lips, something like a whine as you shifted your shoulders, and your legs trying to close your thighs yet kept apart by his own.

He wonders what you're feeling right now, what you 're thinking about. Him, he hoped.

Once he started to feel your juices on his palm, he knew you were ready. Dipping both fingers into you as you let out the cutest whine he's ever heard, it brought a smile to his scarred lips, seeing you squirm under him.

He started to sway his fingers inside you, the way he knew you liked it. He saw your eyes stress as your breathing became uneven. He didn’t want you to wake up, but he also wanted to wake you up with the good sex you deserved, looking like such a cute display.

“You can open your eyes, I know you’re awake.” Though he had no proof, he still wanted to act like he still had some morals, though a part of him liked having the thought of you unconscious and defenseless.

“I know you want it.” he swore to himself, knowing he couldn't hold back for long. You 're so much tighter when you’re asleep.

He pulled his fingers out of you, seeing it already covered in slick. It only made his cock throb.

He licked your juices off of his digits, tasting your bitter-sweet allurement on his tongue.

After a few more one-sided debates, he finally undid the tie on his sweatpants, pulling it off and throwing it to the corner of the bed.

Was he really about to do this? He thought to himself, knowing that you were a tease sometimes, especially when he wouldn't give you attention. Was that what you wanted? Attention?

He chuckled at the thought, thinking of the possibility of you just being an attention-whore for him, so adorable.

He finally positioned against you, just his swollen tip inside your heat.

Slowly pushed in, making you feel fuller every inch that enters. He curses under his breath, feeling you take him so nicely.

He lifted your hips at an angle to enter you carefully. He saw you, eyes closed and mouth agape and started coming to your senses.

Your eyes flickered open to see your beloved boyfriend, balls deep inside you. You thought you were dreaming, thinking it was just another perverted dream you were having at first until he started moving, a slow thrust giving your cervix a kiss with the head of his cock, your eyes roll to the back of your head realizing you weren't dreaming.

“Morning babe” he said with a sadistic grin seeing you so sensitive from a single thrust, “Sorry for waking you up” his faux apology made your ears ring as you started seeing white, already with him ruthlessly thrusting into you while he saw you crumble under him, no chance to adjust or pry him off of you (not like you wanted to) as he crouched down, capturing your lips in a lazy kiss.

You taste the sugary energy drinks, but you also taste something bitter on his tongue. It makes your mind race. What else did he do to you while you were asleep?

It was wrong. You know you shouldn’t be encouraging this, but you couldn’t get enough of getting stuffed while you’re half awake. Especially with his smirking lips against yours, his tongue forcing itself down your throat.

his cock slips out halfway, covered in slick, so much that it drips between your thighs.

Your thighs are sticky, and your eyes squeeze at the feeling, completely ruining your panties. He shoves back in roughly, making you jolt.

He backs from the kiss, hearing your uneven breaths as you cling onto him, hugging around his neck as he continues to rut into you.

He wasn't sure if it was the fact that you were tired and sensitive or you were really turned on, but he was living for this reaction. Clinging onto him, trying to suppress your moans to not wake up any of the rest of the league in the base, especially in the middle of the night.

His attention drew to your face. Shigaraki couldn’t form any teasing remarks, seeing you so cock drunk and groggy really made his evening.

He didn't know how long he'd last seeing you like this. He felt helpless when it came to you. You were out of his league, and he knew that, yet here he is, helping himself to a quick use of your hole.

Your foreheads pressed together, moaning against his lips as he watched how your warm body moved up and down the sheets every time he thrusted into you. tempered by the groggy atmosphere, it made everything better and a bit sloppy, not like he minded.

Your legs tensed, feeling him hit your sweet spot over and over again, so painfully good it had you seeing stars every time he rutted against you.

The sudden ego boost getting to his head watching you writhe on his cock, your hands pawing at his soft hair, giving the occasional tug.

Your back arched, his face buried in the crook of your neck, working on a few love bites and hickeys to see in the morning.

Your desperate mewls could only mean one thing, you were close. You wrapped your legs around his waist, clinging onto him so desperately.

“Tomura, I’m close-” you whispered in his ear, trying to make as little noise as possible. “Y-yeah, me too.” he responded in a shaky voice. His thrusts became more clumsy as you tightened when you heard his voice.

“You want it inside, don't you?” he teased. He saw you nod, meeting his gaze with your desperate doe eyes

He chuckled to himself before holding you a bit closer, forcing you to open your legs a bit more before a few more thrusts. You felt his warm milky seed fill inside you, painting your insides before it leaked out of you, staining the sheets.

He gave your thighs a rub before placing a soft kiss on your lips, slowly pulling out and watching it drip out of your abused hole.

It wasn't long before he dried you off, brought you new panties, and snuggled up with you.

He held you in your half-awake state, rubbing the small of your back, sneaking his hands under the hoodie you’re wearing.

“You aren't mad at me, are you?” he asked in a sheepish tone. He started thinking of ways to justify himself and his actions until you spoke in a croaky, sleepy tone. “Why would I be?” you asked, a giggle escaping your lips.

“I had fun, Tomura. thank you.” you said softly before giving him a smile and a soft kiss to match.

Though he still felt guilty taking advantage of you being in such a vulnerable state, he still smiled seeing you so satisfied at the end of the day.

[imreadydollparts]

More Mattel Head Glue Mess.

So this was posted on X:

And it caused a lot of collectors/enthusiasts to be kind of mean to OP for trusting a tutorial by a well-known doll rehabber (keep in mind, well known doesn't mean they know what they're doing...) and trying that person's glue head removal method of saturating the hair in WD-40 then washing it, causing the hair to all fall out.

They were also saying she should have used L.A.'s Totally Awesome, because we all know that works well and is generally safe. Generally.

At first I was sure that the problem wasn't the oil because oil does degrade plastics, yes, but not THAT fast. I figured the glue being removed made the hair fall out in that removing the glue removes the hairs' anchor inside the head.

I thought this doll had Saran and tried WD-40 on a Barbie because I can't assume I know exactly what happened without having tried this method, but Barbie's hair was fine. WD-40 is very fast at removing the head glue (but difficult to wash out again, just like Goo Gone in our hard water), but still not recommended due to the way oils degrade plastics.

Then @oak23 told me this doll does NOT have Saran hair, she has a special hair fiber meant to hold a shape without heat.

That changes things!

So I ordered one of the same doll on eBay to test on and she got here yesterday.

Her hair is already breaking around the scalp and the hair texture looked weird, there.

That got me thinking the head glue is what's destroying the hair fiber, not the removal method, in this case, oil. That supports my earlier theory that applying oil didn't instantly destroy the hair.

I gave her a quick wash because she was dirty, chopped off some of her hair right up by the scalp so there was gluey and not-gluey hair, and soaked samples in T.A. and WD-40 for two hours.

I can't record while I'm working but after that 2 hour period I pulled the samples out, held it in both hands, and yanked on them hard.

I also yanked on the hair still attached to the head, which did not break any more than it had when I had combed it.

The WD-40 hair, when yanked, did not break. When I pulled specifically at the ends that had glue, though, just that area disintegrated!

The Totally Awesome soaked hair had the same results when yanked.

However, the hair broke apart even more at the glue end than the sample treated with WD-40!

This tells me that the head glue is what caused the hair to destabilize either by changing it's composition in some way or by integrating with the hair, and regardless of the glue removal method, once the glue was dissolved, the affected hair fell apart.

Link back to the post full of links to the other post about this issue:

[gogogodzilla]

If you take asks for Connor, I'd like a story where basically reader does connor so hard he short circuits or something along those lines and reader is like "omg are you ok???" And after a moment, he's like, "very" idk I hope I explained it well

Missed You || Connor (RK800)

Summary: You couldn't wait for date night.

Warnings: smut, afab read, semi-public sex, fingering, slight choking, Connor has a praise kink, argue w the wall

{Masterlist}

After a few months of dating, you and Connor had developed some form of a schedule. Every Saturday was date night, and this week had you particularly eager for it to arrive. You’d barely spent any time with Connor with him being stuck on a case that had him halfway across the city for most of his days and working late nights. 

Saturday night rolled around like it always did, and you paced your shared apartment in anticipation of Connor arriving. You’d both agreed on just going to a movie. It was the one you’d been dying to see, so you weren’t complaining.  

The sound of keys jingling against the lock had you practically sprinting to the front door and flinging it open. Connor looked down at you with wide eyes, his keys hovering mid-air. 

You grabbed the lapels of his usual suit jacket and brought him into a kiss. He let out a small sound of surprise against your lips but quickly melted into your grasp. He wrapped his arms around you as he nudged you further into your apartment and kicked the front door closed. 

“Missed you,” you murmured against his lips as you ran a hand through his hair. 

He slowly pulled away, taking in your features. “I just need to get changed and then we can go,” he offered, patting your hip as he released you. 

You wanted to say to hell with date night and just ravish him where he stood, but you forced yourself to nod. It’ll be worth the wait, you tried to convince yourself. 

The tension in the air was palpable as Connor emerged from the bedroom, rolling up the sleeves of his button-up. Your gaze traveled up his forearms, taking in every inch of exposed skin. He had the same idea, and his eyes raked over the hem of the dress that danced across your thighs as you shifted your weight from foot to foot.

You forced yourself to look away as you moved to grab your car keys and tossed them to Connor. “Ready?” you questioned, ignoring the way your heart was practically bursting out of your chest from the way he was looking at you. 

“Always,” Connor responded, kissing your forehead as he passed and grabbing your hand to lead you to the elevator. 

You eyed the emergency stop button as you stood far too close to Connor in the cramped elevator. No one would even notice the elevator was stopped for a few minutes, you reasoned.  

Ding!

The chime of the elevator caused you to nearly jump out of your skin, and Connor shot you a look. 

“Are you feeling okay? Your heart rate has been high ever since we left; we don’t have to go to the movie—” 

“No!” you cut him off, even though every fiber of your being was begging you to drag him back into your apartment. “I’m fine,” you assured him, resting your hand on his arm and keeping it there for far longer than you should have. 

He raised a brow, eyeing you. You ignored him and led him out to your car before hopping in the passenger seat. 

Connor wordlessly hopped into the driver’s seat, and you watched him. You wondered if the long week apart was affecting him as much as it was affecting you. You saw how he was practically undressing you with his eyes when he came home. His usual precise movements were far more controlled than they usually were, stiffening every time your skin came into contact with his. It couldn’t hurt to test the waters. 

Connor always set his right hand on the gear shift or your thigh when he was driving, and today was no exception. He loosely gripped the gear shift as he drove, gaze never leaving the road. A wise decision. 

You took his hand and placed it on its normal spot on your thigh. He glanced over at you. You could’ve sworn you saw his free hand tighten on the steering wheel, betraying the small smile that flashed across his lips.

A few minutes of comfortable silence pass, and you decide to push your luck a little further. 

“Are these pants new?” you causally questioned as you leaned over and ran a hand down his upper thigh, giving him a perfect view down the bodice of your dress. 

Connor cleared his throat and swallowed hard, “They’re the same pants I always wear.” 

You hum and move to return to your seat, your hand accidentally grazing over the place you wanted so badly. Connor sucked in a breath as he approached the red light. You grinned, bathed in crimson. 

“Connor,” you purred, lolling your head to the side to look at him. The light turned green and he pressed on the accelerator, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. His eyes grazed the bare skin of your thighs before returning to the road. 

Your heart rate picked up as Connor turned down a side street in the opposite direction of the movie theater. You weren’t going to make your showing.

Connor’s movements were controlled as he picked a secluded spot to park. You were on him before he could even fully pull the keys out of the ignition, clumsily climbing over the center console. 

The keys tumbled out of Connor’s hand and clattered to the floorboard, but he didn’t seem to care as he pulled you in for a heated kiss. He pushed the seat back so you could comfortably sit, legs straddling his thighs and skirt hiked up just enough to tease him. 

“Couldn’t wait,” you murmured against his lips as you pulled away, your breaths entangling in one another. 

“You’ve been looking forward to this movie all week,” Connor teased, running a hand up the bare skin of your thigh and cupping the curve of your ass. 

You dipped down and hovered next to his ear, whispering, “I’ve also been looking forward to riding you until you short-circuit.” 

Connor’s grip tightened on your ass, and he shoved your hips down to grind against him. The tent in his pants pressed against your clothed core and caused a shudder to run through your body. 

 “Do you feel what you do to me?” he questioned, voice husky and increasing the ache in your core that had gained intensity since you left the apartment. 

You nodded, leaning down to kiss him and run a hand over his covered length. Connor jutted his hips up to meet you, groaning as you ran a hand over the smooth fabric of his pants. His nails raked up your thighs and he hooked his fingers on the waistband of your underwear and tugged hard enough for the side seams to rip, and for them to fall in his lap. 

Your gasp was quickly swallowed by his lips against yours and his fingers sliding through your folds and circling your clit. Breathy moans escaped you as you shoved your head in the crook of his neck, lazily pressing kisses to the hardly exposed skin. 

He ran a finger over your entrance and you pressed against him, begging for him to fill you. He obliged, slowly inching a finger inside of you before quickly adding another, stretching you deliciously. He pumped his fingers, savoring the way you clenched around him, aching for more. He curled his fingers inside of you, brushing against the spot that had you seeing stars, and you cried out his name, throwing your head back. 

“Fuck me,” you whimpered, grinding yourself against his fingers when he stopped his movements. “Please, Connor.” 

He removed his fingers and slipped them past your lips, making you taste yourself. You ran your tongue over the pads of his fingers as you met his gaze. He used his free hand to undo his belt, the smooth leather brushing against your thighs. 

You reached down to where your hips met, unbuttoning his pants and yanking down the zipper, impatience coursing through you. You released his length from his pants, eliciting a breathy sigh from Connor. You pumped your hand, thumb sliding over his tip and spreading the bead of precum that had formed. 

You aligned him with your entrance and you both groaned as you lowered yourself onto his length, savoring the way he stretched you. You started rocking against him, flushing as the suspension of your car squeaked with your movements. 

Connor gathered the skirt of your dress in one hand and watched as you ground against him. You dipped down to kiss him, reaching up to rest one of your hands against his throat. He twitched from within you, and he snapped his hips to meet yours. 

“So good for me,” you praise, squeezing his throat lightly as he looked up at you, eyes unfocused and mouth hanging open. 

His hands found your clit and resumed the same tight circles as before. You released your hold on his throat as you rocked your hips into his, feeling the familiar heat pooling in your stomach. 

It took no time for your release to hit you, Connor’s length finding the spot that had you moaning his name over and over again. Your release caused you to squeeze Connor’s cock, pushing him to finish directly after you. Connor lifted his hips to meet yours, and threw his head back, letting out a guttural moan. His whole body froze and tensed under you as his climax washed over him. Connor twitched inside of you as you slowed and pressed a kiss to his forehead. 

After a few moments, when his eyes still hadn’t opened, you brushed a finger over his chest, relief washing over you when you felt the familiar thrumming of his bioregulator. 

“Connor?” you murmured, tapping his cheek lightly. “You alright?” 

His lashes fluttered as he slowly opened his eyes, a small smile curving into his features.  “Did I say how much I missed you?” he hummed, reaching up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

“No,” you mentioned, chucking, “although, I think I have an idea.”

[sevinsav]

「 . ݁ ✦ NIGHT CAP ✦ . ݁ 」

ᝰ.✮ PAIRING ✮ JAKE SULLY x BLK!FEM!HUMAN!READER!

ᝰ.✮ PROMPT ✮ THE LEADER OF THE OMATICAYA IS INTRIGUED BY YOU!

ᝰ.✮ BACKGROUND ✮ MENTIONS OF ORAL, MUTUAL MASTURBATION, AND PENETRATION!

ᝰ.✮ SIGN OFF FROM SAV ✮ LIKES, COMMENTS, AND REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED 🫶🏽🪐🔮

You often wondered how much time Jake was able to spend in the lab with you as opposed to the time he spent in the village with the other Omaticaya.

You also wondered how he could hold a full conversation while staring at you from across the room.

How he would compliment you whenever you did anything worth mentioning.

How often he would touch you whether you would anticipate it or not.

Nor could you forget the slight twitch in his lips that erupted into a small smile whenever you were in arm’s length.

You also thought of how he would also distance himself from you at the first sign of discomfort had you decided to display any to begin with.

You could feel your breath fall short as your eyes darted towards the part in his lips as he smiled.

His gaze subtly lowers from your eyes to your lips, carefully observing your facial expression for any signs of hesitation.

Visibly, there were none.

He decides to test the waters, taking another step forward.

He approached you with a tilt of his head as he brushed his index across the carbon fiber frame secured tightly against your face, causing your mask to fog as you exhaled.

“Sully . . . ”

He doesn’t respond but his eyes meet yours once more which was his subtle way of letting you know that he was listening even if you thought otherwise.

But you knew that it wasn’t enough.

Not for you at least.

Not when he was this close enough to where his face was close enough to touch yours nor when his hands grazed your skin, rendering you speechless with each touch.

So you call his name again, feeling the syllable weigh on your tongue each time you called for him. It made you breathless, made you weak.

You notice the slight curve at the edge of his lips as he ran his hand down your braids, gliding his index against the one closest to him as he stared at it in a muted fascination.

His ears twitch at the sound of your voice as he continued to gather your hair in his hand, “I like hearing you say my name,” He admits lowly, “But I’d like it better if you’d moan it out for me instead . . . ”

Your eyes dart to his in shock which fades once you heard the underlying amusement his tone was known to carry. Your lips twitch into a nervous smile, deflecting the potential come on as him having a strange sense of humor. “Chill,” You drawled, your eyes gradually leaving his as you dismissed his attempts.

“Nah,” His tongue runs across his lips, “I’m serious.”

You let out a slight scoff as you crossed your arms and shifted your hips to the side as you forced your gaze to meet his once more, “You and I both know that you’re not on that type of timing, Sully.”

His head tilts at the challenge in your words, “Yeah?”

You nod as you held your ground, “Yeah.”

He crossed his arms, “What if I was?”

You stare at him uncertain whether you should take his words to heart or not. You attempt to brush him off again, “Then you wouldn’t have to ask me, would you?”

His eyes seemed to narrow at the challenge, “You’ve got a point, doc.”

You nod, ignoring the disappointment you felt as he conceded his defeat which was odd considering he would’ve had a reply of his own.

A wicked smile flashes across his lips when he noticed how your face fell as he bent down and reached out to clasp his hand against your nape, “Good thing I’m not askin,’ isn’t it?”

You hold still, not knowing what to expect.

With him, you never do.

His head lowers, allowing you to feel his ears flick your skin.

You shivered as his hands ground into your hips, “Sully - ”

His lips twitch, “Jake.”

You ignore the correction, “What do you want from me, Sully?”

His eyes meet yours as he shrugs, “Whatever you’re willing to give me, sweetheart . . . ”

You resist the urge to flinch when his hand brushes your clavicle, relishing in his touch.

“Just for tonight?” You asked, with caution.

“That’s up to you,” His eyes bore into yours, tilting his head.

The two of you fall into a brief silence with nothing but the sounds of the forest resounding between you both.

“If that’s what it takes for you to keep an open mind, I’m not opposed to spending the night together,” He shrugs as if his pride wasn’t faltering with each passing minute, “But you’re not the kind of woman I’d be willing let go of once I have you.”

Your eyes glaze at the statement as the realization that Jake was just as attracted to you as you were to him. He saw your worth like you saw his and he wanted you.

You parted your lips to speak but words fail you.

So, you nodded instead.

Jake cracked a small smile and slips his thumb and forefinger at the base of your chin, “I need to hear the words, sweetheart. Want to hear you say it just as . . . “

He wants to kiss you but he settles for peppering kisses against your nape instead.

You let out a moan and arch into his touch, eager for him to continue.

His lips trailed towards your chest, toying with each mound as he kneaded each one as if it were dough. His lips curl into a scowl when he reaches for your face and touches carbon fiber rather than flesh.

His brows knit together furrow as his ears wilt, unable to hide his disappointment. You smiled softly at how expressive he is as a Na’vi, reminding you of his inability to hide his true facial expressions as a human either.

The mask is a deterrent, that you both can attest to.

But he doesn’t allow it to derail him as his hands lower from your face down to your legs where he reaches beneath your sarong to grip on to your thighs.

His tail swished behind him as he lowers his face down to your stomach.

His flat nose pressed against your abdomen, closing his eyes and inhaling your scent until it was all he could smell.

You hissed, clutching his head when his hands grip your ass.

He laid you on the ground, careful not to jostle you as his head lowers between your legs.

You jolt as his tongue swipes against your slit, unsure of how to feel about the strange texture of the muscle slathering itself on to your walls.

“Sully . . . ”

He hums against your clit, holding on to your hips.

He replaces his tongue with his index and asks, “What’d I tell you, huh?” He curls the digit around your walls, “Just sit back and relax, mama . . . ”

✮ ⋅ ✮ ⋅ ✮ ⋅ ✮ ⋅ ✮ ⋅ ✮ ⋅ ✮ ⋅ ✮ ⋅ ✮ ⋅ ✮ ⋅ ✮ ⋅ ✮ ⋅ ✮ ⋅ ✮ ⋅ ✮ ⋅ ✮ ⋅

Your eyes almost cross from the pet name as your breath fogs your mask, rolling your wrist as much as you could to make up for warmth your mouth was unable to provide.

The back of his head dug into the ground as his hips jerk from the sensation, “Never knew how good a hand could feel when it’s not your own.”

You let out a breathless laugh only to moan as his tongue delved deeper inside of you, “You’re telling me . . . ”

He laughs and replaces his tongue with his middle and ring fingers as the two digits scissored themselves against your walls, “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

Good was an understatement but your vocabulary was limited and so was your ability to form a cohesive sentence, “So good, too good.” You agreed, rewarding him with a flick of your wrist.

You keened into his grip as a string of curses flew from his lips, crossing over between English and Na’vi as he thrusts into your grip with a sharp hiss.

“If your hands feel this good, I can only imagine how your lips would feel wrapped around me . . . ”

Your cunt flutters at the thought as well as the heightened pace he was prodding into you with as you rolled your hips against his hand, “Same here . . . ”

✮ ⋅ ✮ ⋅ ✮ ⋅ ✮ ⋅ ✮ ⋅ ✮ ⋅ ✮ ⋅ ✮ ⋅ ✮ ⋅ ✮ ⋅ ✮ ⋅ ✮ ⋅ ✮ ⋅ ✮ ⋅ ✮ ⋅ ✮ ⋅

He pants into your ear, nudging your head with his as his lips formed a slight scowl at the thought of him not being able to slot his mouth against yours.

You noticed his frustration growing as you took mercy on him and pressed his head towards your nape, smiling softly when you could feel him grin as he suctioned his mouth and seared his tongue against your skin. “I’ve got you this hyped and you haven’t even hit yet,” You replied, taunting him only for him to chuckle.

He rolled his eyes as he let out an amused snort, “This comin’ from the woman who came quicker than I did?”

You kissed your teeth, “Beginner’s luck . . . ”

Jake gave you a look as he smirked at your attempt to save face and humble him in the process. You feel his lips ghost against your skin, causing you to shiver.

“‘S okay, you can admit how good I put it down without puttin’ it down yet . . . ” He whispers, gently tugging on to your ear with his teeth and patting your ass.

You jolt from the contact as he grinned and palmed his cock, stroking it slowly as he meshed your saliva and his pre - cum together.

His ears flatten against his head as he lets out a low hiss from how sensitive he was.

You watch him closely, worried that you might’ve injured him while pleasuring him and aroused by how he brought himself to full mast with a few slow strokes.

You watched the appendage rise, admiring the bright shade of blue it was covered in along with the stripes wrapped around it which were another dim shade of blue. It was also crested with the constellations covering the rest of his skin.

He notices your prolonged stare and responds with a sly grin as he pulls you closer, “Like what you see, sweet heart?”

Your eyes widen in embarrassment from being caught as you stare elsewhere, hearing a breathless chuckle from Jake who was amused at how shy you were compared to the confident air you had earlier.

You felt his thumb rest on your chin as his index slid beneath it, pulling your face towards his. “Hey,” He rasps, “‘M just messin’ around with you. ’S nothing wrong with you looking if you like what you see,” He tilts his head in your direction as he leered at your nude form, “I know I do . . . ”

You roll your eyes and shook your head in a failed attempt to hide the small smile you gave him, “I hate you . . . ”

He grins down at you and gives himself another pump as he pulls you closer to him, “Good to know.” You lift your head to allow him easier access as he kisses your nape.

He lingered there for a while until he shudders from his own grip, clasping on to your hip with his free hand. You lowered your gaze to where his member brushed between your legs.

He pulls back to grip your chin and stare at you with an intensity that you weren’t used to, “You sure want to go through with this, doc?”

✮ ⋅ ✮ ⋅ ✮ ⋅ ✮ ⋅ ✮ ⋅ ✮ ⋅ ✮ ⋅ ✮ ⋅ ✮ ⋅ ✮ ⋅ ✮ ⋅ ✮ ⋅ ✮ ⋅ ✮ ⋅ ✮ ⋅ ✮ ⋅

“Who am I?” Jake grunts, increasing his pace tenfold as you felt him thrusting into you faster and harder than he was before.

You open your mouth to respond only for you to answer him with a moan as a line of drool threatens to fall from your lips.

He leans closer into your ear and whispers, “Say my name, baby girl . . . ”

You let out a deep moan as your arch deepens with each thrust, “ . . . Jake . . . ”

His amber eyes darken with lust as a satisfied groan released from his chest at the sound of you moaning out for him.

His tongue swipes across his teeth, “Damn, I’ve never heard you say my name before. Always my last. ‘S kinda hot. Say it again, mama.”

Your mouth twitches at the order, “ . . . Jake, Jake, Jake . . . ”

You cry out for him this time, repeating his name as much as you could much to his pleasure. With the way he was inching towards your next orgasm, you were just another stroke from calling him another name he would like.

His hips meet yours with each thrust, timing his perfectly with your own. He grins at your eagerness, imagining how he could have you positioned like this.

His hands on your waist as he watched him repeatedly entering and exiting you with the intention of leaving an impression that neither you nor body would forget.

You were so soft, so warm.

He could feel your walls encasing him, allowing him to slide into you with ease.

He grows hard at the thought of how well you were taking him, allowing his primal instincts to resurface.

“Jake . . . ”

The sound your voice, fraught with need, reminds him of who he is, where he was, and what he was concentrating on at the current moment.

“What’s up, mama?” He asks, “Talk to me.”

A familiar warmth pools beneath your stomach as you moan out for him, “‘M close, so close . . . ”

His thumbs dug deeper into your hips, indenting them as he nods at your warning. “I know, baby, I know . . . ”

He grunts out, lifting your body into his arms as he angled his member deeper into your walls.

You whimper from the change in pace and wrap your arms around his shoulders almost instinctively, feeling the coil in your stomach tightening the longer he continued to hit your spot with each thrust.

✮ ⋅ ✮ ⋅ ✮ ⋅ ✮ ⋅ ✮ ⋅ ✮ ⋅ ✮ ⋅ ✮ ⋅ ✮ ⋅ ✮ ⋅ ✮ ⋅ ✮ ⋅ ✮ ⋅ ✮ ⋅ ✮ ⋅ ✮

The second you reached your second orgasm of the night, he reaches his with a final thrust. His ears flickered until they laid flat against his skull while he released a low grunt.

His scrotum twitches beneath you as he fills you with his cum that seemed to come in waves.

His fangs gnashed against his teeth in an attempt not to give into his primal urges which were to mark you and scent you so that everyone, Na’vi or not, knew you were his.

Because you weren’t his.

Not yet.

He settles on nuzzling the side of your face, mindful of your hair matted against it from the perspiration.

TAGLIST: @neteyamsoare

© SEVINSAV 2024 | all rights reserved. do not republish, steal, repost, modify, translate or claim any of my work as your own . . .

[softagenda]

silver linings (leander)

leander x reader(f)

clothes sharing/boyfriend shirt trope / leander thirsting

originally posted on ao3

masterlist

Preview

Leander taps his thumb against his glass, staring into the amber liquid. “A rare catch requires good bait, timing, and most of all: patience,” he murmurs.

Thinking of you in his rooms: naked, those long limbs and lithe muscles submerged beneath the hot water, your hands stroking his soap along your skin, your hair wet and draped around your shoulders, clean and soft and smelling of his herbs and oils…

He’s an excellent fisherman, but at this moment, he finds his patience tested to the limits.

________________________________

“See, this wouldn’t be near as irritating if you hadn’t moved out.”

Lingering on the threshold of the Wick, sopping wet with sticky, putrid slime, you shoot him a withering glare. “Watch it. Haven’t cleaned my sword yet.”

Grinning cheekily, Leander lifts his hands in surrender, his sculpted arms bunching beneath the skin tight mesh of his shirt. “Just sayin’.” His coat folded over his arm and boots sticking, he walks to the bar and speaks to the bartender. 

You debate making the trek back to your flat on three streets over. Your skin burns where the rank slime seeps through your clothing, exuding a thin, sulfuric gas that twists your stomach. The thought of walking through the city like that fills you with nausea and dread. “That dingonek would’ve gutted you from ass to chin. See if I step in next time.”

“For which I’m, as always, eternally grateful,” Leander cuts in smoothly, leaning against the bar and looking you over. “I think this every time we head into battle, but it continues to ring true. Your swordwork is certainly… something to behold.”

It’s another mark against the cruelty of the universe that, despite holding fast barely a foot from you, Leander had managed to leave the fight without a single scratch on him - he hadn’t ducked under the neck of the furious, armored reptile, piercing the hide of the throat and thus getting caught in the spray of acidic bile as the blade tore through its venom glands.

No, he walked away with the lightest sheen of sweat on his chiseled jaw and thick neck, windswept from the rush of the battle, towing a highly sought-after pelt of massive lizard monster back to Eridia like some heroic warrior - and he has the audacity to quip and smolder at you.

You level him an unimpressed look.

He lifts a gloved hand and spins the golden key around his finger. “My doors always open to you, of course.”

And every other simpering fan in the place , you think wryly, before snatching the key out of his hand. “I’m gonna use all those fancy soaps and oils you’ve got in there. Always wanted to smell like the lovechild of an apothecary and a brothel.”

Leander swallows once, his mouth hanging open for a moment twisting into a smirk. “Help yourself.”

“Gonna steal your clothes too.” The venom had eaten away at the fibers of your pants and shirt - there’d be no salvaging them. You pause, gripping the key and checking his expression for permission. Leander’s notoriously generous, to a fault, even - despite that, you still try not to take more than you give back.

Inscrutable, emerald eyes flash bright for a heartbeat before glancing away. His tongue darts out to swipe across his lower lip before his hand taps on the bar, signaling a request for his usual shot of whiskey. In moments, Rodrick slides a glass across the polished surface, placing the drink perfectly in his waiting palm. 

Leander takes a quick drink before meeting your gaze again. Though the flare of magic had withdrawn, a dark edge still lingers in his eyes.

“Be my guest.” His jaw clenches, a vein jumping along the hard edge, but he smiles like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. “I insist, even.”

You pause and narrow your gaze. That’s a little….suspicious. “Now I don’t want to,” you mutter, grimacing as that lying smile breaks into laughter.

“I’m afraid Rod here might insist too,” Leander adds, dispelling the strange tension and running a hand through his hair. “The smell alone will send customers running to the wastelands.”

One such customer stumbles to the back alley exit a few steps from the bar and just barely opens it in time for the torrent of vomit that spews from his mouth.

You stare for a moment before turning back to Leander, whose eyes are now full of mirth.

“Well, I’d hate to put off the fine, noble patrons of this tasteful establishment.” With a roll of your eyes, you stride off toward the interior of the inn toward the suite at the end of the hall, ignoring the weight of his gaze on your back.

A door with a familiar crest stands at the end of the hall and opened to a set of comfortable, homey rooms. Gorgeous oak furnishings carry the varied goods and knicknacks that comprise Leander’s existence: leather bound journals on the desk alongside bottles and ink pens, a trunk propped open with the hilt of a sword, a floor length mirror in the corner half-covered with another coat, a dresser with cologne and books stacked on top. More books are heaped on his bedside tables and tucked under in neat columns. Soft, green blankets cover the bed, matching the curtains drifting beside a cracked window.

You pause on the threshold before carefully stepping out of your boots and leaving them in the hall to keep from tracking the slime inside. You drop your coat on top for good measure and step inside on bare feet. 

The archway to the bathroom is tucked in the corner. You tiptoe toward it, conscious of the putrid slime clinging to your clothes and hair before finally reaching the tile floor. The fey lamps alight when you step inside, casting the room in a golden glow. 

After twisting the knobs on the massive claw-foot tub, water barrels through the pipes and steam fills the bathroom. 

You crack the window to let it escape and then strip down, mourning the loss of the clothes. The shirt you can handle the sacrifice - the pants are - were - a favorite. 

In the mirror over the sink, you check the damage to your hair. Congealed blood and drying monster venom sticks your hair in clumps. It’ll be a bitch to wash out. Bottles of various shapes and colors gather on two shelves around the vanity. You read a couple labels before finding a cleansing solution with rosemary, sage, and detoxifying oil. It’ll have to do.

Sighing, you decide to focus on getting the worst of it out now and finishing the job at home after a meal and a tall pint of beer. 

“Still out here, huh.”

Leander’s brow lifts pointedly, eyeing Rodrick over the rim of his glass. 

“Well, it’s been half a wick. Usually you’d have slipped into the hall by now, not to be seen again until dawn.” He’s wiping a clean glass down with a rag, hip braced on the back counter during a lull in drink orders. His mustache twitches below a knowing gaze.

“Not this time,” he answers simply.

“Oh?” Rod inspects him before nodding slowly. “Oh… I see. Playing the long game? That’s rare for you.”

Leander taps his thumb against his glass, staring into the amber liquid. “A rare catch requires good bait, timing, and most of all: patience,” he murmurs.

Thinking of you in his rooms: naked, those long limbs and lithe muscles submerged beneath the hot water, your hands stroking his soap along your skin, your hair wet and draped around your shoulders, clean and soft and smelling of his herbs and oils… 

He’s an excellent fisherman, but at this moment, he finds his patience tested to the limits. 

What a catch you are. All slick and smooth and tempting. A siren. 

He thinks of your bare body rising from the ocean, water trailing in rivers down your skin, dripping from your hair, opening that hot little mouth to reveal sharp teeth and a massive tail drifting in the deep, hooking claws into his flesh to drag him down, all that sharp, deadly beauty….

What a way to die.

Leander lifts the glass and tips the rest of the whiskey down his throat in a burning, sweet rush. Then he shakes his head and runs his hands through his hair, wiping them down his face for good measure, and when he opens his eyes again it’s to find a fresh glass waiting in front of him.

“Good man.”

“Patience should be rewarded,” Rodrick quips back before glancing above his shoulder for a moment. A smirk hides beneath his bristly mustache. “Seems the night has proven very rewarding for you indeed, hound.”

Leander follows his gaze. The glass lands on the counter with a thunk .

Gonna steal your clothes too . 

You’d warned him. He’d known. He thought he was prepared.

You’re striding toward the bar, your hair still damp and sticking to your face and shoulders. Skin flushed and dewy from the bath, you look so - unguarded - so much more vulnerable without your armor and cloak, sword strapped to your hip, the gloves over your hands. That sight alone would have stolen his breath, but oh ….

You’re wearing his shirt. 

The black mesh that once molded over his body now hangs loose on you, the fabric draping over your hips and hovering at mid-thigh. The neckline gapes open too, exposing the ridges of your collar bones, a tantalizing view of your neck and chest. You’d even nicked one of his leather jackets - the midnight leather swallowing you up so completely that you’re rolling the ends of the sleeves up to find your hands. 

Rodrick clears his throat nearby.

Leander’s jaw snaps shut. His mouth is dry.

Not prepared. Not prepared at all .

“Hey,” you greet them, and a cloud of distinctly familiar smells infuses the air. 

Herbs. Mint. Rosemary. Leather. A hint of his cologne that lingers on all his clothes.

Ye Olde gods, have mercy on this sinner .

A strange, garbled sound escapes his mouth before he wrestles back control of his body. “Drink?” he asks, desperately ignoring how breathless his own voice sounds. “My treat.”

You don’t seem to notice. To Rodrick, you say, “I’ll have what he’s having.” 

This close, he can see a drop of water coalescing behind your ear and trailing down your neck, journeying down warm flesh until it wicks into the shirt collar.

You turn toward him. Leander wrenches his gaze up.

“Think the punctured venom glands will depreciate the carcass’s value?”

“What? Oh. Probably, but not by much.” He clears his throat, tries to look anywhere else for a moment, before his gaze is inevitably drawn back to the way his shirt clings to your front, dipping between the valley of your chest, the full shapely mounds tucked behind the wings of his jacket. 

He’s never going to wear that jacket again without thinking of you.

“The other set of glands was intact. If it’s a problem, we’ll just sell it to Kuras. He’s always in the market for monster venom.” He dropped more of his weight on the counter, leaning a little closer to you. 

“I’ll take over negotiating in that case. Kuras run’s circles around you at the bartering table.”

Leander laughs, hears the strained quality of his own voice, and quickly stops. “What can I say, the good doctor can be very persuasive. Think you can do better?” 

Your mouth curls into a smirk, mischief alight in those dark eyes, your face framed by the damp strands of your hair, all wrapped up in his clothes, his scent, and his brain grinds to a halt. 

Tilting your head, you say in a low voice, “I know I can.”

Leander looks at you and believes it. If this vision stood opposite him in the market, he’d fold like a palace of cheap cards in a hurricane.

Rodrick returns and hands you a glass of whiskey. He pauses behind the counter as you tip it back and swallow it all down, then asks, “Another?”

“In a bit. I’m gonna head back to my place and get dressed.”

Snapping out of a sudden, intense fantasy of licking trails of whiskey off your neck, Leander sits up. “Right now?” He flicks a look over you, heat licking his insides. 

“Mm. I’m not about to sit on those stools like this.”

Like this ? He glances down. Thin chausses meant to prevent chafing from armor hide away your skin. It’d be a little cold, perhaps - he could offer to warm you up personally if that was the problem - but it’s not that unusual for hunters to wear them in place of everyday pants.

You notice the confusion and, to his surprise and delight, blush . “Back in half a wick. You’re buying dinner. Steak.”

With that, you stalk off into the pub, draped in his jacket, as his hounds and other patrons part ways around you.

“Sure, happy to…oblige….” he trails off, leaning off the stool to keep you in sight as long as possible, before the front door closes on your shadow. “Steaks on the menu tonight, Rodrick?”

“It is now. Make peace with your coin purse.” 

Leander slowly turns back around and looks at the empty glass. I’m not about to sit on those stools like this . But you were wearing pants, however thin, so… 

He slowly lifts his head as the realization slams into him like a runaway carriage.

You have no underwear on.

_____________________________________________

a/n: comments and likes appreciated!

[dmwrites]

The royal archer brought his king the head Impulsesv, blood still dripping from where the neck had been severed from its body.

“Thank you, Sir HotGuy,” Rentheking said, voice strong and demanding obedience. He took the head, grasping the hairs of its Mohawk and holding it up for all of the royal court to see. “This, my subjects, is what happens to those who dareth oppose me!”

In the eyes of his subordinates, he saw fear and disgust. Lady Cleo rolled her eyes, but that was to be expected of her. What mattered is that they saw, that this head served as a reminder of consequence, of victory.

After the general assembly finished, and Scar was given a hefty tip for the murder, the hermits left, aside from the king’s right hand man, Bdubs. He bustled around, cleaning up water bottles and crumbs left behind. Ren watched him work, lounging on his throne, one hand idly playing with Impulse’s hair.

“Bdubs. Approach thine king,” King Ren said suddenly.

“Of course,” Bdubs replied warmly, and bowed in front of Ren. “What do you need, my king?”

“You know, as my right hand to the throne, much consideration must be done on the employment of the wenches that serve me.”

“The wenches,” Bdubs echoed. “Of course.”

“How do I know those in the court do not secretly want me gone and dead? How do I know those closest to me do not plan my demise while I sleep?”

“Loyalty tests! Those knaves must prove their loyalty! I could rig up some kind of test, parkour and puzzles and-”

“I like the idea of a loyalty test,” Ren mused, stroking the hair on the decapitated head. “But skill can be faked. True loyalty is proving that you give yourself to me. You are loyal to me, right, Sir Bdubs?”

“Of course I am,” Bdubs replied, bowing again.

“But how do I know that? After all, the wounds are still fresh from our last bout in the death games. And you were on the side of the enemy.”

“You mean Double Life?” Bdubs looked at Ren, confused. “That’s a whole different world, baby. I don’t feel Impulse’s pain here, and BigB isn’t even here. What are you talking about? Respectfully, of course.”

“Are you willing to prove your loyalty, sir Bdubs?” Ren asked.

“Yes. Of course I am,” Bdubs said with a sigh. “Whatever puts these fears to bed, my king.”

“Kiss the head of thine enemy.”

“What?” Bdubs asked, clearly taken aback.

“You would kiss my shoes, no? What difference is this?”

“I…”

“Your soul was bound to this man once, lest ye forget. What difference is a kiss alive or dead?” Ren held out the decapitate head of Impulse, his hand deep in his hair.

Bdubs stared at the head, the open mouth and the blood that dripped from the end of it. It was Impulse, yes, but a gorey, horrible version of him, death leaking from every pore of what remained of him. His scalp stretched horribly from where Ren was holding him by the hair. Bdubs gulped, glancing at his king.

“You know, i was the one who came up with this whole kind idea in the first place, Ren,” Bdubs said nervously. “I don’t think I, of all people, need to prove my loyalty…”

“Kiss the head, Sir Bdubs. Prove you care not for the enemy any longer,” Ren growled, thrusting the head towards Bdubs. More blood sprinkled onto the floor with heavy splats.

Bdubs approached the throne, every fiber of his body telling him to run from this horrid scene. He held Impulse’s dead, rotting head by the sides of his face, and pressed his lips to Impulse’s cold, rubbery ones. Impulse tasted like blood. Bdubs opened his eyes and stared into blank, soulless ones.

RentheKing put a hand to the back of Bdubs’ head, scratching and petting his hair like he was a well behaved dog. “A final kiss to a love no more- you have proved your loyalty well today, Sir Bdubs,” he was holding Bdubs head in such a way that he was forced to stay nose-to-nose with the corpse.

Bdubs swallowed down a shuddering sob. “Of course, your majesty. I am loyal.”

[bethanythebogwitch]

Wet Beast Wednesday: beavers

I love rodents; they're my favorite mammals. So today I'm combining rodents with the usual Wet Beast Wednesday to talk about beavers. These rodents are not only amphibious, they're engineers that play a major role in their ecosystems. Let's find out why you should appreciate beavers.

(Image ID: a beaver standing on dirt. It is a rotund, furry mammal with a large, blunt head. Its legs and eyes are small. Its tail is wide, flat, and hairless. It is wet. End ID)

There are two species of beaver: the North American beaver Castor canadensis and Eurasian beaver Castor fiber. The two species are so similar to each other in morphology and behavior that it took genetic testing to confirm that they are distinct species. Each species is divided into many subspecies, with a classified 25 for the North American beaver and 9 for the Eurasian beaver. Beavers are the second largest living rodents after the capybara. Adults have a body length of 80-120 cm (31-47 in), tail length of 25-50 cm (9.8-19.7 in) and usually weigh between 11 and 30 kg (24-66 lbs) but can reach up to 50 kg (110 lbs). Beavers are semiaquatic and have multiple adaptations for living in the water. The hind legs have webbed toes and are used to provide propulsion while swimming. The wide, flat, paddle-like tail is used as a rudder. Beaver fur is very thick, with 12,000 to 23,000 hairs per square centimeter and grows in multiple layers. The hair keeps the beaver warm and provides buoyancy while being thick enough to act as armor, protecting the beaver from predators. Beavers can hold their breath for up to 15 minutes, but most dives are shorter than that. While underwater, the beaver's heart rate is halved and blood is redirected to the brain and away from the extremities. The ears and nostrils can close underwater and the mouth can form a watertight seal. Being highly adapted for swimming, beavers are somewhat clumsy on land, but they can still move fast if needed. The front feet are very dextrous and can carry objects. Beavers can stand and move on their hind legs while holding things with their front feet. The tail helps provide stability while standing up. Like other rodents, beavers have an upper and lower pair of incisors that grow for their entire lives. The teeth need to be worn down by gnawing on objects and a beaver that can't gnaw can suffer from health problems as their incisors grow too big. Beaver teeth are coated with a layer of enamel that contains iron compounds, giving the incisors a characteristic orange color. The teeth grow outside the mouth and the beaver can close its lips while moving the teeth, letting it chew or pick thing up with its teeth underwater without getting water in its mouth. Unlike other rodents and pretty much every mammal, the beaver's excretory and reproductive tracts are merged into a single hole called the cloaca. Cloacas are common in reptiles, amphibians, etc, but having separate holes is a kay mammal trait. Beavers must have evolved back into having a cloaca. One hypothesis for why is that having a single hole reduced the surface area that can be exposed to the water, reducing the chance of infection. Males have a penis that extends from the cloaca when in use. Because of this, male and female beavers are virtually indistinguishable by sight if the penis is retracted. Staying downstairs, beavers have two sets of scent glands, anal glands and castor sacs. Both are used to produce scent chemicals that are used by beavers to mark their territory and identify each other. The anal glands also produce an oily substances that beaver groom into their fur to help waterproof it. The castor sacs produce a substance called castoreum and are attached to the urethra. Ancient people often thought that the castor sacs were testicles and that female beavers were actually hermaphrodites.

(Image ID: a beaver seen from the front on some rocks by the water's edge. It is dragging a long log in its mouth. Its top incisors are visible and orange. End ID)

The North American beaver is found in most of Canada and the United States, as well as northern Mexico while the Eurasian beaver's natural range has been considerably reduced from what it once was. They now live in portions of western, central, and eastern Europe, west Russia, and Scandinavia, with isolated populations in Mongolia and northwest China. Beavers live in freshwater (and occasionally brackish water) streams and lakes. They are nocturnal and crepuscular, active most commonly between dusk and dawn. Beavers are generalist herbivores, eating a variety of leaves, stems, shoots, roots, and bark. They prefer herby food in summer and woody food in winter. Beavers form stores of food underwater for the winter. Their digestive systems have an enlarged portion of the intestine called a caecum that helps digest the cellulose form all the plants and wood they eat. Their feces has been reported to have sawdust in it. Beavers are territorial and mark their territory with smell using secretions from their anal and castor glands that are placed onto piles of rock and mud they build. beavers defend their territories fiercely and will get into fights with others trying to move into their territory. Beavers who live in neighboring territories will gradually grow less aggressive toward each other and they become used to each other's scent. This is called the dear enemy effect and is seen in other territorial species. Beavers communicate using a variety of noises including whines and growls. A common behavior is slapping the tail against the surface of the water, which is used to alert other beavers to danger.

(Image ID: a beaver swimming underwater. Its body is strengthened out and streamlines. Its front legs are tucked under its chin. The hind legs are being used for swimming. The tail is out of frame. There are rocks and logs in the background. End ID)

Beavers require deep and still water to build their homes, but they aren't satisfied just looking for lakes to live in. No, these little entrepreneurs will make the conditions they need by damming streams. I will devote a whole section below to beaver damming and its impacts on the environment. Aside from dams, beavers also build lodges, which are their homes. Building these structures requires material and beavers use wood, mud, and rocks. To get the wood, they use their incisors and powerful teeth to chew through trees and branches. Famously, a beaver can take down a large tree in under a day. Lodges take a while to build, and until it is ready, beavers live in simple burrows on the water's edge. There are two types of lodges: bank lodges and open-water lodges. Bank lodges are burrows along the water's edge covered in sticks and are more common with Eurasian beavers. The more famous open-water lodges are built away from the shore. A pile of sticks forms a platform that is covered with a dome. The dome reaches above the water and is made of sticks and rocks held together with mud. Inside the dome but above the water is an open cavity filled with air. This is called the living space and is (as the name suggests) where the beavers live. The only above-water opening in the living space is an air hole built in the very top. The other entrances are underwater, meaning that beavers can only enter and leave by swimming. This provides good protection from predators, most of whom wouldn't be able to swim into the living space, as wells as insulation to keep the living space warm in winter. Beavers live in familial groups usually consisting of a pair of parents and up to eight children. Family members use the scent of their anal glands to identify each other and will body through grooming each other and play-fighting. The parents are monogamous, but will seek out new mates if they lose theirs. Mating occurs in late December to mid January when the female goes into heat. Up to four pups are born three to four months later. Beavers are born furry and with open eyes and can digest solid food after a week, but usually nurse for up to three months. Beaver milk is more fatty than the milk of other rodents. Beaver offspring will stay with their parents for two years before becoming independent and a family can have two generations of offspring at a time. The largest families need to build multiple lodges. The offspring, called kits, will stay in the lodge for their first one to two months and will start assisting the family with construction of dams and lodges at a year old. They reach sexual maturity between one and three years of age and can live for up to ten years in the wild. Beavers that become independent will travel away from their parent's pond to find a new stream or pond to settle in. This is the time most beavers meet their future mates and the pair will travel together in search of their new home. Beavers will stay in the same territory unless poor conditions force them to leave and find a new home.

(Image ID: A beaver in the Minnesota Zoo with four kits. They are in an artifical lodge with stone walls and star and sticks on the ground. The kits are miniature versions of the adult. End ID.)

(Image ID: an artistic depiction of a beaver lodge with a cutaway to show the interior. It is a large pile of branches with a chamber inside partly submerged in the water. The chamber is connected to the outside by two tunnels the open underwater. There are two adult beavers outside the lodge and three juveniles inside. End ID. Source)

The most famous feature of beaver behavior is their dams. By damming streams, beavers create the large and still ponds they need to build their dams. Beavers that live in pre-existing ponds or lakes that are deep enough for their lodge entrances to be underwater don't need to build dams. To start, thy will dig canals to reduce the flow of the stream, then drive large logs and branches into the mud of the stream bottom to form a base. The dam is then filled in with rocks, branches, shrubs, mud, and anything else the beaver can get its paws on. Beavers can pull or carry objects up to their weight and will build canals and use mud slicks to pull larger logs. Dam complexes can cover acres of territory and the canals beavers dig dig to divert water and help move logs around can be over half a kilometer (1,600 ft) long. The largest dam in the world is in Alberta, Canada's Wood Buffalo National Park and is 775 meters (2,543 ft) long and growing. It was formed of different dams that were combined. Beavers are one of the best examples of ecosystem engineers, species that modify their habitats. They are also a keystone species that are vital in wetland areas of their native range. Dams expand wetlands and reshape the stream environment in ways that typically benefit the local ecosystem. There are some negative impact of beaver dams, including impeding fish migration, increasing silt upstream of the dam, low oxygen levels in the created ponds, and harming species that require fast flowing water. However, the positive impacts of the dams are many and varied. The dams create new ponds that provide habitat for many species that require deeper or slower water, including many aquatic insect larvae, worms, and mussels. These ponds are also ideal spawning locations for many fish and amphibian species, especially salmon and trout that can leap over the dams. Indeed, beaver dams are a huge boon to salmon spawning. The ponds also raise the local water tables and help prevent drought. The areas in and around ponds see a large increase in plant species diversity that encourages local grazing animals and migratory species to visit. Because the areas around beaver ponds are so wet, they act as natural fire breaks, helping mitigate the damage from fires. The dams also help prevent floods downstream by slowing the amount of water that passes, thus helping prevent erosion. The dams act like sieves, filtering out silt, debris, excess nitrogen, and pesticides and other chemicals that get into the water. Bacteria living in the dams break down cellulose in plant matter and release nitrogen gas into the atmosphere. On the downside, beavers have been extending their range north as the arctic warms and their ponds are melting permafrost, which releases methane into the atmosphere.

(Image ID: a beaver in a forest environment gnawing a tree. The tree trunk is slightly thicker around than the beaver. The Beaver is chewing at one side of the tree while the other side is already chewed, resulting in an hourglass shape. End ID)

(Image ID: two beavers sitting on top of their dam and working on building it. One beaver is gnawing on a log while the other one is carrying a bundle of roots in its mouth. End ID)

(Image ID: a beaver dam seen from above. The dam is a large pile of sticks, longs, rocks, and mud that stretches across a stream. The water level on one side of the dam is significantly higher than on the other side. End ID.)

Both species of beaver as currently classified as Least Concern by the IUCN, meaning they are not at risk of extinction. This was not always the case. Beavers have historically been heavily trapped for their meat, fur, and castoreum. The castoreum was used in many forms of medicine. Nowadays it isn't used anymore except in homeopathy and other forms of quackery. The fur trade vastly reduced beaver populations and it was only due to new laws and conservation efforts that the two species were saved from extinction. Since then conservation efforts have largely revolved around trapping beavers and reintroducing them to new areas. Probably the most famous example of this is the 1948 beaver drop, when the Idaho Department of Fish and Game dropped beavers in crates from planes, where they parachuted to the ground and were released. Despite how silly this sounds, it had a much higher survival rate than other relocation methods. Only one of the 76 beavers died due to forcing its way out of the crate during the drop and falling to its death. Beavers can damage infrastructure by damming streams near human activity and can damage trees people want to keep alive. There are ways of mitigating this. Pipes can be used to keep the water levels of the ponds from getting too high and fences or other deterrents around trees keep the beavers from cutting them down. If the beavers are causing too much of a problem, trapping and relocating them can help. On the other hand, sometimes environmental managers trying to attract beavers will make artificial beaver dams to try to entice beavers to adopt a stream. This is sometimes done in streams with too much erosion or water that flows too fast for beavers to settle. The artificial dams start the work and set things up for beavers either relocated to the stream or that pass by and settle down. Beavers are used as symbols of hard work, industry, and families. The beaver is the national animal of Canada. If Canada appreciates the beaver, shouldn't you too?

(Image ID: a group of three beavers being released from a crate. End ID)

(Video ID: archive footage of the 1948 beaver drop. End ID)

[tiffyfoundsomething]

Doll and Pony Repair Tools

For a while, there, I was using this Conair flat iron (you can see when I bought it):

It’s here: https://amzn.to/3tL8Qtt

This one has 30 heat settings, though it doesn’t tell you what they are, exactly. They’re just labeled 1-30.

Kanekalon - 1

Nylon - 10 through about 15

Polypropylene - 10 through about 15

Foil and plastic tinsel - 1 to 10, choose whichever matches the hair fiber

Saran - 5 - 10

Brushed acrylic yarn - I know I have used this to flatten brushed acrylic but I don’t remember what setting it was on. You’d have to start at 1 and work your way up to figure it out, but it’s doable with this iron.

It was ok, but I found it difficult to get close to the scalp on a lot of dolls and ponies with my flea comb, which gives the smoothest flattening. The Conair also had a problem where the plates only really touched each other at the very tip, and that’s not very useful, honestly. It’s difficult to get a good flattening unless you’re committed to doing 1/4th inch sections at a time.

I started seeing really narrow flat irons on Instagram, and went looking for one to try.

I found this one:

Now this one, which is here:  https://amzn.to/3S7jLqA

I am so impressed!!!!!

It tells you the actual temp (in Fahrenheit; important to know), but not only does it show you the temp you’ve set it to, it shows the temp it actually is! You can watch it count up as it heats up! That’s super handy and makes it easier to know if it’s malfunctioning.

it also beeps at you when it’s ready.

It’s lowest temp is 120F which is far too cool to even do anything to Kanekalon, meaning this flat iron works for many 80′s and 90′s Barbies that are otherwise difficult to smooth out without melting their hair. I haven’t tested, yet, whether it’ll work on Creata hair without melting it.

I found 200 is right around when I could feel the hair starting to stick to the plates, so for Kanekalon I recommend 190 and no higher than 200.

For nylon, 250 is where it started to feel a little sticky, so 240 to 300 is about as high as you’d want to go. Nylon is pretty hardy and may tolerate a slightly higher temp. Go higher at your own risk.

Polypropylene needs a temp right about where Nylon is but I didn’t test it to find out the exact right setting.

Regardless of which flat iron you’re using, remember to wash and condition the hair first, to get the best results.

Ironing damp hair works best, but you don’t want it dripping wet. Dripping wet hair can result in boiling hot drops in your lap, or water getting into the flat iron and causing an electrical short. Towel the hair off, first.

To get the smoothest hair with the flat iron, I use a handled, metal flea comb to lead the iron.

https://amzn.to/3S5ICv6

You do want metal tines. They aren’t going to snag on or tear the individual hair fibers the way plastic tines can. Though avoid any metal combs that are punched from a sheet rather than made of individual wires. Those will destroy everything with their sharp edges

This comb having a handle lets me keep my hands away from the heating elements on the flat iron without needing to wear heat-resistant gloves.

These dog combs are excellent for detangling prior to making your final passes with the flea comb.

https://amzn.to/41UpX8U

The wire tines are smooth and gentle with hair, but it is also unyeilding so you do have to be cautious that you’re not ripping or tearing through tangles.

If you have a lot of knots that are difficult to remove, try a cat slicker brush.

https://amzn.to/47mw4DT

Again, the wires are metal and won’t shred your hair fiber. Using a cat slicker over tangled hair will make an awful noise, but that noise isn’t the hair tearing like it would be with the metal combs above, it’s the sound of the wires being pulled back and then springing up again.

A slicker brush yields to the tangles a bit and doesn’t pull.

You do have to be careful with a slicker, though, because the wire bristles are very fine and will stab you.

I do work with older Barbies sometimes, and sometimes they have Kanekalon hair that’s supposed to be crimped. Kanekalon can’t take much heat and melts easily, so again, you need a variable temp tool.

This multi tool works:  https://amzn.to/3S5aT4W

I haven’t tried using it to flat iron because it’s rather wide, but I have successfully recrimped Kanekalon on the lowest heat setting, and nylon on the second or third setting.

You can see that this crimper combo tool is the same brand as the new flat iron mentioned above, but I think this one is in Celsius. I’m not 100% on that.

I’ve been using Army Painter paints lately, and like them a lot:  https://amzn.to/3Yd42dl

I also use Mungyo soft pastels https://amzn.to/3zzaS2i which are decent but I only use these because they’re much more affordable than Pan Pastel.

Pan Pastel https://amzn.to/3Wh06a4 are AMAZING and work so very well on dolls.

I do NOT gate-keep tools or supplies so if you have any questions, let me know.

[consumable-clots]

Dell

"Male", he/him, 165cm, Hyperdyne Systems 120-A/2

Role: Medical officer/biologist

Assignment: Special Research Vehicle - Solaris

Backstory:

Although Dell is the same model synthetic as Ash, he was made in an earlier round of releases. Minor differences in software/hardware specs means his capabilities also differ slightly.

He was brought on to the Solaris, a W-Y and 3WE funded special research vessel, as part of the early test run of synthetic officers on long-haul flights. Their medical officer had just retired and they needed a replacement.

Dell incurred some manufacturing defects, he was put on watch in case there was significant damage instead of being destroyed outright. His issues were deemed minor and so he was put on the B-grade product catalogue. It was Jude Wilheard, the Solaris' chief engineer's idea to check the cheaper synthetics.

Personality and mannerisms:

As a crew mate he's well-meaning but dense. Unlike Ash, he's very wary of the crew's health and safety, but also easily moved to action by their collective bravado and impulsiveness. (there is no voice of reason on this boat, sorry)

He is terminally curious but lacks situational awareness, often leading him into trials and tribulations ranging from walking into doors to getting caught in fights that he could have avoided.

A bit too willing to trust humans and has a hard time recognising red flags. He's also skittish and easily shaken and has a tendency to stall/freeze up in unfamiliar situations. Which means he often gets into trouble and can't get himself out.

He has a one-track mind and dedicates himself to his work and enjoys learning about alien lifeforms (very much not aware that he's in a horror movie world.)

The speed of his processing is slightly below target for his specs and is noticeably slower than the current models. Due to the less than stellar comments from the company's product testing department, he underestimates his abilities and is often unsure of his own judgement. He's also a bit of a people-pleaser and wants all humans to like him very much, is easily manipulated, and becomes frustrated quickly.

Participating in human activities is a key part of his daily life, and he's heavily involved with the humans' personal lives. His crew is very close with him and they all function as a single unit, very in sync with each other's habits and needs.

Something else that differentiates him from Ash is his body language. He moves in a meandering, unhurried manner rather than the sharp and purposeful way most synthetics carry themselves. Dell experiences a lot of emotions and expresses them often, he's quite animated and easy to read.

Easily excitable, friendly and gullible, his personality is quite a surprise to those expecting the detached demeanour of most synthetics, almost the opposite of Ash.

Appearance and other physical attributes:

A man in his mid fourties, short and slightly chubby. Looks almost exactly like Ash except for a 'scar' on the left side of his head from an injury that's hidden by his hair and the slightly discoloured splotch under his left eye. It's barely visible and most people don't notice unless its pointed out.

Compared to Ash, Dell has a 'kinder' looking face, his standard expression is more placid, which sometimes gives people the impression that he's an airhead.

While it's not immediately obvious from the outside, his right hip joint is structurally malformed and causes the limb to rotate inwards which also affects the positioning of his leg. The deformity does not impact his mobility much aside from a noticeable limp and uneven stance, he walks slowly to minimise the effect. Most days he doesn't need a mobility aid unless the misaligned components become worn down, requiring maintenance.

Wears a different outfit/uniform that's more suited for field work

Durable woven, water-repellent synthetic fiber work jacket with the sleeves rolled up to the elbow and matching cargo pants. Muted grey-green with a slight shine.

Inner layer is a white, sleeveless high-necked shirt

Often paired with white, wrist length cotton PVC dotted gloves

Off-white, steel-toed work boots

Solaris and Weyland-Yutani patches on the jacket sleeves

Green cotton cadet cap

Extendable cane with built in stun gun function (Wilheard's design)

Misc. info:

Likes to play with bugs and make entomology mounts

Powers down to sleep mode during night hours. Sleeps curled up in a ball and sleepwalks if alone due to faulty motor suppression mechanism

Battery issue resulting in reduced time span between charges

Infographic of the A/2s for comparison

[drownedinlavender]

Helloooo, so I'm writing a long kyman fic. It's gonna be a slow burn multi-chapter one. I got like a good 1/3 of it down with like a skeleton of events mapped out. Since I haven't been active in any fandom or like written fanfic since I was a teen, I wanted to post an excerpt to kinda test the waters a bit haha I'm kinda shy about sharing stuff but was greatly inspired by a lot of people's work.

Anyway, the premise is Cartman impulsively taking the fall on something and being admitted to inpatient cause of it. This excerpt is when he facetimes the gang to tell them about it. Stan and Kenny are at school during lunch, Kyle's at the hospital (has to do with what Cartman took the blame for), and Eric's at home about to leave.

I'd greatly appreciate any criticism or input! Thank u for ur time 💜💖 ^^)/

"Dude, a psych ward? That sounds pretty serious," Stan looks mildly concerned.

"It is serious, Stan. That's why Kyle's gonna owe me big time when I get back," Eric smuggly declares, "Like sucking my balls big big time."

Kenny sneakers at the brunette still obsessing over a bet they made years ago when they were just kids.

"Man, you gotta lay off the balls thing, Cartman. That's hella gay," Stan drily informs while munching on a fry.

"Hey! It's not gay! It's about humiliation and having power over an individual," Eric offendedly denies, choosing to die on that hill.

Kyle, who has been absolutely seething in the background, finally bursts, "Fuck you, Cartman! I didn't ask you to cover for me, you did that all on your own!"

Eric scoffs, "Okay, fine, Kahl, would you prefer me going to PC principal and telling him I take it all back. That he should take you off the team like he wanted? Is that what you want, Kahl?"

Kyle tenses his jaw muscles as he grinds his teeth. Of course that's not what he wants but is Cartman holding one over his head any better? His eyes flicker to the side as he contemplates for a brief moment. Stan continues eating, staring at his screen waiting for his best friend to speak as if he's watching an enthralling reality tv show. Once Kenny's giggling fit finally subsides, he lays his head on one outstretched arm and sneaks a French fry from whoever's lunch tray is right across from him.

"Fine," Kyle bitterly concedes with a sigh, "but I'm not helping you do anything illegal like murder or whatever. And I'm definitely not sucking your balls," he points at Cartman through the screen.

"Oh…" a small voice utters in surprise across the room from Kyle. The redhead looks up at a shocked nurse half way through the door. "I-I'll come back in a second to check your vitals," she embarrassedly scurries out of the room.

Kyle's mortified face soon matches his hair. "God, damn it, Cartman!"

Kenny practically dies of laughter, not even bothering to hold his phone up right anymore.

"Dude," Stan snorts before cracking up as well.

Kyle hides his face with one hand, trying with every fiber of his being to maintain any ounce of composure he can muster before combusting from rage.

Eric's amused smile warps into a shit eating grin, he absolutely could not be any more delighted by the current turn of events. He obnoxiously clears his throat before continuing, "Very well, I'll leave a legally binding contract in your room before departing, Kahl. Now Kenny," he seamlessly changes the topic.

Kenny straightens himself out the best he can. "Uh-huh?" He responds through tears.

"Wait a second, fatass, do NOT break into my room!" Kyle protests.

Eric purposely ignores his rival, knowing it'll anger him further. "Kenny, my mom says you can use your spare key to clear out my fridge whenever. She's gonna stay up in Denver with some cousin until I'm out. We don't want the food rotting up and stinking up the place so do it sooner rather than later, got it?"

"Seriously, dude?!" Kenny immediately straightens himself out in elated surprise. Woohoo!" He cheers. He knows their fridge is always packed so he and his little sister are definitely set for bit.

"Knock yourself out, dude, just don't let anything rot in there. Seriously, I'll kick your ass if I come back and my house reeks like spoiled ass."

"You got it, bro," Kenny assures with a thumbs up.

"Don't ignore me, asshole!" Kyle's demands only serve to further Cartman's amusement.

"Welp, gotta go pack up some essentials. Don't know how long I'll have to be admitted … but it's all worth it for my dear friend Kahl's sake," Eric fakes sincerity. With a hand over his heart, he winks at Kyle.

"Oh, Fuck off," Kyle rolls his eyes.

"Well, good luck, dude. Don't blow up the place trying to escape," Stan waves goodbye from his screen.

"Guys, wanna say bye to Cartman? He's gonna go do some time at a loony bin," Kenny asks, reversing his camera to show the rest of their lunch table.

"We heard. You guys are super loud," Craig complains before biting his burger.

"Hey! Don't call it a loony bin, asswipe! That's totally insensitive to people with mental health issues. Not cool dude," Cartman condescendingly lectures, doing what he does best, playing the victim.

"Cartman's getting admitted? Dude, that's crazy!" Tweek comments.

"Wait, who's getting what now?" Clyde looks up from his phone, unaware of the conversation going on around him.

"Cartman, dude, he got in trouble again so PC principal's sending him to a psych ward," Tweek rapidly explains.

"Oh," Clyde responds in his usual nasally tone.

"All in order to save Kyle from getting kicked off the team," Cartman adds.

"Don't act like you did it from the kindness of your heart, fatass!" Kyle quickly corrects.

"First it's Cartman, then they'll be coming for the rest of us!" The jittery blond panics.

Craig pats his boyfriend's shoulder. "No they won't, honey, we don't cause the town to blow up every other month like they do."

"Hey!" Kyle indignantly exclaims.

"We haven't been directly responsible for the town's destruction for like," Stan counts the time in his head, "at least a year now!" He defends himself and his friends, receiving a middle finger from an unimpressed Craig.

"L-l-later, Eric, don't dr-dro-dr-dro-drop the soap," Jimmy jokes before offering up his signature smile.

"Jim, that's for jail," Tolkien corrects.

"Aw, we'll miss you, Eric! Don't take too long in the psych ward!" Butters gleefully shouts.

Kyle rolls his eyes, feeling himself getting more and more irritated by the situation at hand. "Oh, for Pete's sake, it's not like he's dying, you guys." The longer these farewells are dragging on, the more he can feel a twinge of guilt spreading throughout his subconscious and twisting up his guts.

"Poopsikins, mommy can't find Mr. Kitty's carrier, do you remember where we left it?" Liane can be heard calling from the background.

"Just a second, meeem!" Eric hollers off camera before getting back in frame and sticking out his tongue with a peace sign, "Later, losers ~ " he sings-songs and hangs up.

"You know …. For someone being sent off to an insane asylum, he seems really unbothered by it," Tolkien points out.

Kyle's eyes flicker down for just a second before choosing to quickly dismiss further analyzing Cartman's reaction to being sent away. "Well, yeah, it's Cartman. Do you really expect him to react normally about anything?"

"That's true," Tolkien immediately agrees, chalking it up to Cartman just being Cartman.

For a brief moment, Kyle remembers the time he was admitted when the town wouldn't believe him about Mr. Hankey but before he can even decide on entertaining that thought, Stan speaks.

"Wow … so he's really leaving, huh?" Stan says more than asks, looking a bit absent minded.

"I guess so," Kenny pensively looks down at the lunch table, head resting on crossed arms. He turns to Stan and forlornly admits, "dude … I'm actually feeling kinda bummed out."

Kyle bites the inside of his cheek. The reality of their current predicament further sinking in.

"Aw, Ken," Stan frowns and pats Kenny's shoulder.

"It's okay, Ken," Butters comforts, patting Kenny's back, "he said so himself, he probably won't be there for long."

"Isn't this a good thing though? Things are going to be a lot more peaceful while he's gone," Tolkien suggests.

"If Cartman gets admitted for the rest of the school year, I'll be sooooo happy," Craig chants in a monotone.

A sniffle directs everyone's focus towards Clyde.

"Clyde, you okay, buddy?" Craig puts down his lunch to fully focus on his friend's concerns.

"We *sniff* were starting to *sniff* get along more *sniff* this year," he powers through a closing throat.

Kyle bites his cheek even harder. Cartman was certainly a lot tamer as of late. Things were finally getting comfortable between the two of them, too.

"He was being a lot c-coo-c-coo-cooler this y-year," Jimmy admits.

The nurse knocks before entering Kyle's room this time. "I'm going to take your vitals again, okay?" She smiles.

"Yeah, sure," Kyle replies before addressing his friends, "I gotta go guys. Stan, can you come pick up my keys and move my car before my parents get back? I have a minor concussion so I'm under observation for a bit."

"Yeah, dude, totally," Stan confirms.

"Later," Kenny mumbles, waving with one hand, his face fully immersed in his crossed arms.

"Alright, thanks, see you guys later," Kyle says his goodbyes, queuing the nurse to begin taking his blood pressure.

Kyle barely moves, too busy contemplating Eric's departure. First, Stan moves and now Cartman's going to be gone for God knows how long? He bitterly sighs.

[dc418writes]

•|I Got You, Always|•

✨Pairing✨: collegeQB!Chris Evansxblack!reader

Summary🪄: An unexpected surprise changes your plans (sequel to Safety Net)

⚠️: mayyybbeee a tiny bit of angst, mentions of pregnancy, worries of reader’s mental health/harming herself, all fluff for the most part tho

For 30 minutes and counting, Chris sat with his back pressed against the bathroom door waiting. His head tilted back and gaze lingering on the slow twirling blades of the ceiling fan while one knee occasionally knocked into the other. He just desperately wanted some sign to let him know you were okay.

At your frantic voicemail about feeling a knot in your abdomen that wouldn’t go away no matter how many crunches you did, he was obviously confused at what you were talking about. Then he was frozen. Blood pounding and heating his ears but also running cold in the middle of the packed locker room seeing the picture of a positive pregnancy test between your fingers.

“I’m sorry,” your following text read.

His teammates weren’t sure what happened watching their captain quickly pull up his sweats and toss a grey tee over his broad shoulders still sprinkled with drops of water from his shower. Their questions of “what’s up?,” and “you good?,” going unanswered as the metal door slammed against the tiled wall.

His locker even left partially open from his abrupt exit.

His jeep swerved in and out of traffic—just barely missing other drivers at times—until he finally arrived at his apartment.

“Baby I’m here,” he announced knocking on the door and trying to catch his breath after bounding up the steps two at a time. He’s only met with silence though making his forehead wrinkle in worry.

“Y/N? You okay?” He knocks again before trying to turn the handle. It’s locked, and he’s still yet to hear anything from you.

The door rattled and silver handle shook from how hard Chris’s palm banged on the door repeatedly trying to get you to open up. It wasn’t in anger though—no matter how frustrated you might’ve made him, he’d never direct any sort of ire towards you. He was scared that your silence was a permanent decision based on you’re fear and possible sadness as well.

Something he definitely could’ve stopped if he’d gotten back sooner.

“Nonono..hey Y/N if you can hear me, come open the door. I’m giving you until five or else I’m breaking it down! One! Two!…”

That’s when he heard your sniffles and muffled sobs, making his heartbeat begin to slow as a heavy sigh of relief left his lungs. Placing his hand in his pockets, his voice softens at your quiet hiccups coming from the tub if his ears heard correctly. “Hey sweetheart, I-I’m sorry if I scared you I was just freaked out since you didn’t answer a-and thought..”

He didn’t even want to finish the sentence himself not wanting to think of a world without you in it.

“Look, when you’re ready I’m gonna be out here okay? Right by the door,” he states squatting down to eventually sit on the cream, short-haired carpet fibers. “Need anything, you just let me know.”

And true to his word, he sat there like a puppy eagerly waiting for his owner to walk through the front door after a long day of work. The dull taps against the white tub made him perk until he was finally able to see your tear streaked face as you opened the door. Eyes burning from crying, and surely exhaustion, along with your wet lashes appearing darker and nose lightly tinted red—which was always adorable to him even though you swore you looked like a low budget Rudolph—you shyly meet his soft eyes gazing at you with sympathy and that ever present warmth they possessed whenever you appeared in front of him.

Your mouth slightly gapes, but no words flow out being immediately scooped into his arms and nearly cradled as he moved you both to the bed. His lips repeatedly pecking the top of your head as you nuzzled deeper into his chest.

“Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“S’alright,” he lowly chuckles against your curly hair. “Just don’t do it again. Too young to have a heart attack.”

The silence is comfortable this time—at least for Chris that is—as he slowly rocks you back and forth savoring the feel of you against him. His breathing has calmed and heart a simple patter against your body, while your mind continues to race and shift from thought to thought similar to a fly zipping from different landing spots. Staring at both of your reflections in the mirror mounted on the closet door, your eyes drift to your hidden abdomen apparently changing by the second as it prepares for the world’s newest addition that would be equal parts you and Chris.

“I’ve only talked to your mom twice,” you softly speak causing your boyfriend to pause his soothing motions to peer down at you. “Once on the phone when we we’re studying, and then when we finally met at dinner after your game.”

“What about it?”

“The third is gonna be me potentially ruining all the dreams she and your dad had for you.” Your voice cracks as he turns you to face him. Moving you to straddle his thigh as he wipes your newest tears trying to comfort you through shushes and chaste kisses.

“None of this is your fault, so stop okay? It takes two. And you’re not ruining anything, they’re only dream for me, or any of my siblings, is to be happy. Trust me, they say it enough times that I know it for a fact.”

“What about the NFL? Plus you graduate this year.”

“Although nice, the pros was never end all for me. And what? You think they won’t let me walk just because of a little extra fun?,” he smirks hoping to return that heart stopping smile he loved so much.

“No it’s just..,” you sigh trying to rid the oncoming tremble from your voice and withhold any further tears from falling, “when you leave, then what? I-I still have another year.” Hands on either side of your face, it’s as if you just spoke gibberish the way his eyebrows furrow at you.

“You really think I’d leave you? Baby or not, I love you Y/N, and I’m always gonna be there. Even in those times you’re sick of this mug and need your space, I won’t be too far away.” Your soft giggle is music to his ears, making a small smile spread along his lips. “I won’t let you fall remember?”

It was the promise he’d made to you when you both agreed to progress from your friends with benefits-esque relationship, and he hadn’t broken it. In your moments of uncertainty created by your anxious thoughts and unnecessary overthinking, he was there to bring you back down to Earth with a hug and a kiss, along with his soothing words of assurance.

He truly was there to catch you in more ways than one, and you’d be forever grateful for his love.

Silently nodding, his hands fold behind your back as you let yourself lean forward to nuzzle against his neck. Your nose resting inches from his Adam’s apple taking in his woodsy shower gel as his lips peck the top of your head. “I guess we got a lot to talk about huh?”

“Yea, but it doesn’t have to be tonight. Whenever you’re ready.”

-

“You see mama lovey? Yea?,” Chris coos to the one-year-old he lightly bounces in his arms. “She looks pretty huh?” Her tiny hands reach out towards you with a quiet “ma” and “tee” tumbling from her lips before giggling at the prickly sensation of his beard as he kisses her chubby cheeks and blows raspberries in their wake.

“Thank you honey,” you smile pecking her forehead before your lips fall on Chris’s. “And thank you baby. Alright I’ve got four bottles, two half and half; two just formula, diapers, an extra outfit, bibs. She should be okay in the stands with you guys.”

“Got her binkies?”

“Yep, front pocket,” you answer slipping on your heeled mules.

“You sure?,” he asks setting his baby girl down on the plush rug to wobble towards her favorite teddy.

“Mhm.”

“Positive?”

“Yes Chris,” you giggle moving towards the Winnie the Pooh themed diaper bag. “See? Right here in-,”

Rather than being met with her two pink pacifiers, you instead find a black velvet box instantly making your eyes water as you turn towards your boyfriend now down on one knee.

“Chris-,”

“The first time I did this, it uh didn’t really go well,” he nervously chuckles taking your hand in his. “I understood what you said though, and I’m sorry I made it seem like I was just proposing because I thought it was right. I promise that wasn’t my intention baby. Y/F/N Y/L/N, the woman I couldn’t imagine not having in my life, I love you, and I thank you for all the beauty and good you’ve added to my life over all these years.”

Your daughter giggles as she walks back towards the both of you in her tiny overalls trying to climb over his bent leg as if he was a jungle gym.

“Yea that includes you too lovey,” he chuckles kissing the top of her head before taking the box from your hands to open. A simple yet gorgeous singular princess cut diamond front and center on a polished silver band shining on display in front of you and causing a mix of a laugh and cry to escape your mouth.

“So what do you say? Wanna spend forever together?”

Kneeling down beside him, you excitedly nod while your hands caress his cheeks bringing him closer to mold your lips with his soft ones. “I just wish you would’ve asked after graduation. Now I’m gonna look like a raccoon,” you both chuckle.

“The cutest raccoon though.” Smacking his arm, his chuckles deepen pulling you to stand with him as he meets your lips again before gently wiping the wetness from your cheeks with his thumb. “You’re fine. Beautiful as always.”

“Promise?”

His fingers gently glide along yours sliding the cold metal along your skin to sit in its proper place, gleaming and sparkling back at you with every tilt and lift of your hand. “Of course. You know I got you.”

Taglist: @celestianstars @stargirlfics @fumbling-fanfics @lady-olive-oil @themyscxiras @melinda-january @lovelymari4 @adoreyouusugar @lovebittenbyevans @royalwriteroftheuniverse @omg-mymelaninisbeautiful @theartisticqueen @chrisevans-world @literaturelove @ivorylei @elrw24 @pono-pura-vida @yinx1 @justile @sunsetfreedom05 @jackiekae @luvingmyships @give-me-a-million-dollars-pls @bekinds @maxcullen @curlyhairclub @plokyu23 @fullofmelaninsarcasmandepression @nunubug99 @felicity-x0 @ellixthea @jojolu @jnk-812 @captainsamwlsn @wildfirecracker @nina-sj @iammyownlover @chaneajoyyy @thesecretlifeofdaydreamss

[0cal-sweetener-queen]

My current supplement plan

⚠️Disclaimer: this is highly personal and based off my cronometer calculations + the fact that I’m currently anemic. I recommend EVERYONE supplement heavily when restricting, but figure out what you need individually.

Daily Supplements

- Iron with Vitamin C (for better absorption)

- Hair Supplement with a bunch of B Vitamins (including Biotin) + Zinc

- Calcium with Vitamin D (for better absorption)

- Omega 3 (especially important for brain function)

- Magnesium + Potassium

Additional Habits

- Daily fruits & veggies (especially berries🫐)

- High protein diet (1.4g or more per kg of bodyweight)

- Nutrient enriched vegan foods

- Probiotic & prebiotic foods

- Making sure to eat the nutrients I don’t supplement in high enough doses

Sodium: salt on food, broth on fasting days

Selenium: 1 brazil nut a day

Copper: seafood, nuts & seeds, tofu, cocoa

Potassium: bananas, avocado, legumes

Iodine: seafood, seaweed, iodized salt

Other Supplements/Aids

- Fiber tablets, I usually take a few in a day to suppress appetite & help with digestion

- Diet Sodas, Coffee & Energy Drinks for appetite suppression & energy

- Different teas to help with specific concerns (chamomile for tummy aches, green tea for metabolism, stinging nettle for water retention, etc.)

- I smoke very little but sometimes I’ll grab a cigarette to help avoid binges when I’m stressed or hungry

Thoughts

I’m considering adding collagen but for now I think I’m good.

As soon as I loose my period again I’ll get my hormones tested and maybe start on the pill again to prevent osteoporosis. Hormones play a very important role in bone health!

[lune-de-miel-au-paradis]

Face to face -Maul's pow

Summary: When Maul woke up, he found himself in an interesting situation. The green eyed young woman comes and he has some questions. Is this all a part of his master’s newest plan? Or is it a new obstacle that he must overcome in order to prove himself worthy of his master? 

Pairing: Darth Maul x OC Nina Cerasus

Warnings: Mention of wounds, medication, anxiety, mutual pining, idiots in love, angst, violence. (Let me know if I left out something.) Minors DNI! Italics means inner thoughts.

AN: This fic means a lot to me and I worked on it a lot. If you have any advice or comments, please share them with me kindly. I'm posting for the first time in years and I don't want nasty comments to discourage me from posting again. If you don't like it, please go to another blog. I did my best to translate it, so pls forgive me, English is not my first language.

Please enjoy reading!

dividers by Saradika

previous chapter

Maul woke up alone. Fresh dewy night air hit his nose, mixed with the scent of sweet jasmine bushes, and some salty water mixed with mold. When he opened his eyes, he saw the endlessly empty sky, framed by the leaves of a few trees, and soft grassy ground beneath him tickled his toes.  As he slowly sat up, he felt the previous spasms slowly loosen in his muscles. He knew that all he needed was a little movement to relieve the feeling of numbness in his muscles as the acid fluid trapped between the muscle fibers was released. He grunted as he stood up, but he felt the familiar weight missing from his utillian belt. He looked around with feverish nervousness, but his fierce warrior hearts found peace.

He found the saber in the soft grass next to him.

The light of the three moons glittered on the cold metal as he picked it up.  Such beauty from such a lethal weapon. He still admired it every time he hold it in his hands.

He looked around, someone had definitely been here. He noticed a black material with a neat square shape. It was his upper robe. Someone took it off and put it under his head. His gloves and boots were also lying next to him. This annoyed the male zabrak. According to the signs, someone touched him while he was unconscious.

He put his boots back on and looked around, but he didn't see anyone, he only could sense only the nocturnal animals of the forest and the lake. Suddenly he heard a rhythmic noise. Soft, quiet steps that didn't seem sneaky, but rather quick. He sensed from the rhythm of voices that a humanoid was approaching. So he did what he had to do, he became one with the darkness and walked in the coal of the night shadows using it as a camouflage. Taking advantage of this, he found himself in the halls of the old abandoned villa as an observation. It was a young female. Maul watched the woman silently, like a surveying animal in a situation of danger. To Maul's surprise, the female walked confidently and fearlessly in the moonlight. She was wearing black light material pants and a matching black soft blouse, the moons shined on the silky material. Her movements were graceful and light, she almost glided. It was as if she was like a spirit being stuck here haunting the abandoned ruins. Maul couldn't see her face, but for some reason he wanted to.

He soon learned that the woman had no weapon, her clothes were ordinary, so she was neither a Jedi nor an assassin.

“Would this also be a test from my Master? What should my next step be?”

The woman stood with her back to him, her dark shiny hair braided down on her back, and she opened a bag, she put it on an old ornate but worn table.

She was humming some melody that sounded like something that would be graciously played on a piano. 

Then she stopped and began to listen. Presumably she felt that she was being watched. Maul saw her posture stiffen, as she looked around several times and headed straight for the lake, where Maul used to lie. So she came because of him. 

Maul continued to watch, feeling rage rising through his veins. Curiosity also mixed in his feelings, he knew that the woman had no chance of winning against him, so he was also a little amused. 

"What are you planning, lady? Is it really a test? Should I just kill you? Or did you come to deliver some message?”

The woman did not step out of the ruins, she stopped and looked out in the broken colored stained glass windows and silently noted that Maul's former place was empty. The only evidence of a body lying there was that the grass had fallen under the previous burden of his body. She started back to the table without saying a word, but Maul decided it was time to act and took advantage of the surprise to pounce on her.

He moved quickly, like an apex predator, he didn't have to exert much strength, in fact, it was more stressful to hold back his bloodlust.

He pinned the woman from the table to the nearest half-collapsed wall. The brick edge pressed directly on the female's spine, she tried to hold on to the two edges of the wall with both hands, thereby easing the unpleasant "spine support". From the outer side of the wall, the leaves of tall fern and leander bushes caressed their knees. The rays of light from the different positions of the moons shone directly on this point, so Maul could finally see the female's face in a very good lighting.

She tried to resist him, it was almost amusing to Maul, this feeble little struggle in the hope of freedom. Maul's left hand crossed her, pinning her against the wall with his forearm at the top of her chest by the soft column of her collarbone. With his gloved right hand, he grabbed her chin and turned it towards him, lifting it up.

When their eyes met, her eyes didn't widen with alarm or fear, but instead glinted coldly in the moonlight with some surprise and some annoyance. For a quarter of a second, Maul just watched the face, which he had only seen once and yet was mesmerized by it. The woman was doing the same, scanning his face, so he did it without shame. The freckles on her pale skin made her face look youthful, and Maul wanted to connect the light brown dots with his fingers to see what kind of constellation they formed on that pretty face of hers. Her eyes, however, were even more captivating, the iris shone like a cold jade stone, the edge was a few shades darker, as if it had been edged with pieces of lush green emerald. Now they were glinting at him a little defiantly, so Maul looked down at the mouth, which opened slightly to facilitate breathing, since his grip was strong. Tiny vibrations of fear-laced gasp trembled against his hold.

Between pink lips he saw interestingly placed teeth, between the first two front small pearl-colored bones there was a small but regular gap, when she talked it was definitely noticeable. A flaw that made her more unique and served her beauty well.

Those seductive lips began to move, and in a firm voice, as much as the restraint would allow, she spoke. 

"As much as I'm enjoying this staring contest, how about you get off me?" Let's say, now!"

Maul was surprised, he didn't feel fear in her voice, well maybe a little, but he definitely didn't see any signs of panic. He didn't feel an overly intense heartbeat under his arm either. Despite the request, he didn't let go, he just loosened his grip a little.

A tendril of anger worked its way to his nerves.

"Who are you? Who sent you?" he asked.

"So you can talk. For a moment I thought you were just communicating by grunting. No one sent me, I came myself, and I mean no harm to you." she didn't collapsed beneath his weight of heavy stare as others did,

“Is that so?” 

He leaned closer to her, he was almost chuckling. 

"How cute of her. She thought she would have a chance against him."

Nina could almost smell the scent of smoggy city air and salt on his clothes. 

He intended his movement as an intimidation, it seemed to work, the young woman uncomfortably tried to back towards the wall, this only made her clothes more dirty, but her gaze was cold and she defiantly resisted, she did not plan to show fear to him. Maul absentmindedly took her braid, his hand amusedly stroking it in his gloved hand, he bet it felt silk soft. He liked this little game, it's much more enjoyable with such a pretty creature. 

"Tell me, little starlight, why should I leave your life? Hhmm?"

He not failed to notice her reaction for the nickname he gave her. 

"First of all, because I helped."

"That's not good enough." Maul answered and leaned down to inhale the scent of her neck. Sweet cherries, almonds and a hint of mint hit his nose. Delicious! He noticed the goosebumps running on her skin, for his closeness, for his touch. He definitely felt smug, which annoyed her, he can see the glint of annoyance in her captivating irises.

"They're going to look for me.."

"Insignificant." Maul whispered this into her ear. "Little starlight.. Do you know how many stars disappear in a single second? 

“Twenty to sixty thousand." She answered surprisingly quickly.

"Very clever one. So answer me. Why should you live? What makes you special? Are you better than those stars? Or are you meant to fade away by my saber?"

He didn't wait for her to answer, the intense eye contact said it all.

“For me, you are rather negligible, small, average.”

It ignited a spark in her. Leaning forward and smiling mockingly, she spoke:

"Oh, really? If I'm so negligible to you, then what was that little scene between us at the club last week? You felt it too, didn't you? I bet you feel it now. This pull between us."

This seemed to have an effect on him, he moved away from her and stormed at least three paces away. He didn't answer, but let out a small growl at her. Now it was Nina's turn to be smug. She began to dust off the debris from her clothes.

"I see we're facing a situation we can easily help. How about a hearing instead of an interrogation? You have questions for me, and I have questions for you. How about exchanging a little information?”

Maul just started then suddenly said:

"I could beat the answers out of you if you'd prefer. "

"Charming offer. That might make me talk, and I will tell you things, and enough of it'll be the truth to make it difficult to weed out the lies. But you won't hurt me. And I'm not kidding, they're really going to be looking for me, which I don't think would be in your best interest."

“And what makes you believe in that? What is my interest?”

"Oh, please don’t try to offend me. I don't need to be a genius to figure out that you're either hiding or either trying to get low from something. Not many people come here to this old mention, nor has a ship that just turns invisible with a device."

Maul noticed that the woman's dress was actually pine green and not black; he also noticed that the white stones on the top edge of the high neckline sparkled, as did the belt of the pants. He also noticed the milky skin on her stomach exposed by the short top. She was such a pretty thing. It would be extremely easy to end her life now, nevertheless…

“So what do you think? Mysterious guy from the club?”

Maul held out a gloved hand to help her down to the level next to him. 

"That you are brave enough to act when you are about to die." 

She accepted his hand. If Maul was expecting the feeling of the warmth of the hand, he was to be disappointed, freezing cold fingertips smoothed over his glove.

She was shorter than him even in heels, but she didn't have to raise her head too high to look into his eyes. Finally, she walked back to the table and sat down in one of the gothic style chairs, beckoning Maul to the one across from her, like if she’s the host in this castle. When she noticed Maul is not gonna sit down and just stays in silence, she began.

Mood board made by me, pictures are from Pinterest.

next chapter

Taglist: @stardustbee @hellhound5925 @cloneloverrrrr @the-chains-are-the-easy-part @firstofficerwiggles

Let me know if you want to be added 💖

[penig]

When I first read Dracula, lo these many years agone (40 or so; I wonder who lives in that house now, where in the winter the cold was cupped inside like something precious and I read curled up in bed at night or in a chair in the sunroom?), I came away astonished at how good it was, yet a bit disappointed by the climax. It seemed anticlimactic to me, raised with cinematic climaxes even in my books; so many pages, so much tension, dissipating on the turn of two sentences into dust and Quincy’s blood on the snow and the minions and wolves sensibly fleeing into darkness as the sunset falls on Mina’s stainless forehead, and Mina didn’t get to use her gun.

Today, I feel very differently about it.

Today I have been crammed full of long, drawn-out, cinematic climaxes. I revolt against them; I begin to think about the lines in the restroom and will the mid-credit scene be worth the sitting? (It won’t.)

Also, today I have participated in Boss Fights many times; and this is how they go.

I played D&D back then, but it was a very different flavor of D&D, all dungeon crawls and party composition shifting randomly depending on who showed up, no continuity to speak of, no goal but to fight the next monster, solve the next puzzle, loot the next treasure, pile up the experience points for that next hard-earned level. It was fun but it had no pay-off, no plot, very little strategy because next session would be entirely different, or even teamwork, because next week Charlie’s parents would be visiting and he wouldn’t be able to come and the DM would have a research paper due so you’d be in a different dungeon with the person currently playing the 12th level monk behind the screen, running a dungeon he’d generated to test a computer program he’d written for his Trash-80. Whether you were fighting a horde of orcs or a Huge Ancient Red Dragon or even the actual BBEG at the bottommost level of the dungeon, you and your ragtag group of adventuring buddies would have at most a patchwork history with the enemy or the rest of the party or the dungeon itself. The thief would listen at the door and check for traps, you’d go in, and you’d do the best you could. And that’s not a boss fight.

No, for a Boss Fight, you have known for some time that you’d be coming up against the BBEG whose evil machinations have been making you tear your hair out since Level 1, whom you loathe with every fiber of your being even if you haven’t ever laid eyes on them before - you, and your seasoned party of close comrades. You know what they can do and you know what each and every one of you can do and you have discussed to death every countermeasure, every contingency. You have poured out your treasure like water to have the right equipment, the right buffs, the right protections in place. You have bribed and intimidated and persuaded and scryed and spied and burned the midnight oil to have every scrap of intelligence it is possible to glean. You have deployed your forces to maximize their effectiveness. Your game mechanic and your rules lawyer have found the exploitable loopholes and closed the loopholes the DM was hoping to exploit. You’re all of one mind. You’re ready.

You go in. You roll initiatives. You move, in deadly unity of purpose, you each do your job, you strike, and some of you miss and some of you hit and the BBEG’s minions try to distract you but you will not be distracted and They Are Gone, The Evil is Defeated and most of the time? If you did it right? If the dice aren’t cursed and the game mechanic and the rules lawyer are any shakes at all? The party is unscathed, the BBEG never got off a single attack. Anybody who did take damage probably got it from a trap or a minion, and it was probably a sacrifice move on the PC’s part to enable a bigger gun to get their hit in or to make sure that the PC’s own attack lands with full force on the actual target, denying them any chance of escape, recovery, or retaliation.

And Team Get Dracula did it letter-perfect.

The only reason Quincey died was because the mechanics of the system in use didn’t allow for massive HP accumulation or magical healing. Jonathan straight-up critted his Intimidation rolls so he didn’t have to deal with minions at all; one minion critted on Quincey and got through his parrying rolls and Quincey either didn’t have a mulligan left or decided to use it in a way that ensured he’d reach the coffin, when according to the mechanics evading the crit would have cost him either a precious round of movement or the to-hit bonus he was counting on to make the heart-strike.

 And Mina didn’t get to use her gun but that’s okay, because she knows, and they all know, but no one will say out loud, that if the plan didn’t work, if it came down to her using the gun, it would have been part of failing, or at best of Pyrrhic victory. In the circumstances of this combat, Mina was the weakest link. If the sun had gone down on Dracula, odds are good that his first act would have been to exert (or try to exert) control of her. She was inside the protection of the holy circle which might or might not have worked to protect her. She was bait, and distraction, and part of a Hail Mary play, and she knew all about that. She was the game mechanic and Van Helsing was the rules lawyer. Probably she had a Charisma-based feature that allowed her presence to provide bonuses to die rolls. She had done her bit in the planning and organizing and information-gathering stages. I have been in the Mina position and let me tell you, the satisfaction isn’t any the less for not having had to roll a single attack.

This time around, I am satisfied.