#he’s outlandishly sexy. OUTLANDISHLY.

[vveissesfleisch]

borgias season 1 down - enamored with these terrible people and the way the relationships between them are written. all of the siblings are absolutely insane. delightful! (and micheletto! my beloved!) and the costumes! chefs kiss. v excited to see what happens next in this fiendishly horny and witty show.

[cloudywriting05]

How do you feel about Finnick x Virgin/Innocent Reader?!

SHORT BECAUSE I DONT HAVE MY LAPTOP. But yessss, FINNICKKKK😍

NSFW, 18+, GRAMMATICAL ERRORS!

SUGGESTIONS OPEN (coryo…..smut…?🤨😏)

Finnick was taken aback when you told him you hadn’t ever done the deed, or any deed. He felt almost guilty for all the times he’d looked at you with lustful eyes. Imagining how you’d look bent over, crying, begging for him to cum on your tongue; he felt humiliated. He couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that the most outlandishly sexy woman he’d ever come across his entire life was completely untouched.

It explained your standoff-ish demeanour, and your refusal of any sort of contact with any man who came off the slightest bit sleazy. The revelation had haunted his mind for a very long time. You on the other hand were always fond of Finnick. You knew him as the Capitols sweetheart, the darling of the districts and the hottest male victor.

Everyone wanted to fuck him and you were constantly reminded of it. The idea of sex itself was a lot for you. You hadn’t kissed anyone, touched anyone or even spoken too many words to a man before. It was overwhelming. What you did know was that Finnick was hot. That whenever he came too close around your pussy pulsated, have suddenly sweaty palms, and stumble over your words for no apparent reason.

You tucked your fears away for just one night. You came to his apartment unexpected. Finnick revelling at your sudden appearance. You sat on his couch talking about everything and anything that came to mind, the topics turned sour and before you knew it you were getting emotional talking about your family and the games.

You laughed at yourself for getting teary eyed and he laughed with you, wiping the singular tear from your cheek. You observed him and calculated what to do next and only came to one conclusion. You leaned in and once again, kissing him without hesitation or second thought. Finnick silently rejoiced, not hesitating to reciprocate the energy.

You learnt that night Finnick was a passionate lover. He asked you if you were okay every chance he got. Sucking his penis was confusing at first for you, you’d never seen a penis in person before and you didn’t know if his was meant to be as big as it was. But, he managed to help you through it. Watching you latch your lips around his dick, moving to his instructions.

You winced in pain as he put it in for the first time, telling him it hurt. He kissed your forehead and lips at every opportunity, until you got used to his size. He kissed you and told you that you had every right to ask him to stop at any point, and that you didn’t have to do this. You shook your head, you wanted Finnick.

His use of the words baby, darling and sweetness boosted your confidence. His words of encouragement rallying you on as you rode him, or anyone for the first time. Did it hurt? Yes. But he made up for it by bringing you to what you now know was an orgasm by using his tongue on your pussy, your favourite part arguably.

Finnick finished on your tongue like he’d fantasied about for the longest time. He fell back and ushered you to lay with him. You both fell asleep that night, knowing that after today you could never be just friends.

FIN

[fyodior]

something i’ve noticed is in the anime fyodor has more of a sharper look to him while in the manga he’s got a rounder face and softish features

especially the scene where he’s in the water in mersault, in the anime he literally has a square head vs in the manga he’s has a more rounder one

he def has kind of. dare i say an outlandishly different appearance in the anime 😭 which i have always found very odd because i don't think any of the other characters have that drastic of a difference. but we move ig. he's incredibly sexy in both. he's definitely a lot more angular in the anime, his jaw is a lot sharper and more dramatic of a point. and the reason his head looks so square is cuz of that fuckass bob like it looks like he's fr wearing a helmet. but again still sexy ok i love him

[scifrey]

Hold Tight (2/6)

Status: Complete. Unbeta’d, we die like Hob doesn’t.

Fandom: The Sandman (TV 2022) Includes some comics canon, and some cameos from the wider Gaiman-verse, but it’s not necessary to know to enjoy the story.

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Discussions of grief and in-canon character death. Also includes some erotic content. Please curate your internet experience accordingly.

Relationships:  Morpheus | Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling, Past Eleanor | Hob Gadling’s Wife/Hob Gadling (past), Hector Hall/Lyta Hall (past)

Characters: Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, Hob Gadling, Matthew the Raven, Desire of the Endless, Lyta Trevor-Hall, Daniel Hall, Rose Walker, Jed Walker 

Summary:

Hob is tasked with his first quest as Vassal of the Endless, Morpheus is bad at using his words, Destiny thinks he’s so clever, Desire makes a confession, Rose Walker meets her Uncle’s boyfriend, and Lyta Hall punches Dream of the Endless in the nose. Or, the one where Hob Gadling turns into everyone’s therapist, and honestly, he ain’t mad about it.

Set at the end of Cling Fast - after the premiere of “Elizabethan Manor”, but before the Epilogue.

READ ON AO3 or below:

Chapter Two

Easter is coming up, and Hob still doesn’t teach on Tuesdays. So after some back-and-forthing via text, and a few video chats to prove that he’s not catfishing the Walkers, Hob’s got a flight booked from Heathrow to Newark Liberty for the Friday morning of the holidays. He picks a hotel at random from the half a dozen near the Walker’s apartment building, and splurges on a pair of tickets to see the big ‘It Show’ on Broadway that season. It’s been a lifetime since he saw live theatre in New York, quite literally, and Morpheus is fond of stories in all their forms.

He reserves a swanky pan-Mediterranean restaurant with a Michelin-starred chef for the same night, but doesn't bother with a second plane ticket for his lover. Morpheus is still Dream enough to travel without needing to be crammed into an airtight metal tube for nine hours, and Hob’s not wasting the money (or, frankly, the patience.)

While he’s not hurting for cash, Hob is desperately aware of how fast everything can go to hell, and his wages and savings are soon enough going to have to stretch to cover the needs and wants of two immortal humans. While it is more or less true that two can live as cheaply as one, as the old maxim goes, there are renovations he wants to make to the living quarters of the Inn so he and Morpheus aren't tripping over one another. And Morpheus is going to have to eat (whether he likes it or not), which means an increase in the grocery bill, if nothing else.

Hob assumes that eventually Morpheus will get a job, but before that he’s going to have to get used to the pleasures and frustrations of occupying just one body on the mortal plane. Though, what kind of job will be suited to a former Onieromancer, Hob can't even begin to guess. His mind baulks every time he tries to imagine Morpheus in a barista's pinny.

Hob has vague ideas of not telling Morpheus about the New York trip. Of just heading to the airport and falling asleep in New York, and shouting “surprise!” when his lover pops into existence in his hotel room. But about a week before he’s due to travel, Hob finds himself in utter brain-dead exhaustion and tipping into slumber draped over a pile of marking. He opens his eyes in the interior of an airplane.

It’s a weird amalgamation of all the earliest flights he’d ever taken, painted with an ever-shifting palette of generous legroom, outlandishly luxurious curtains and carpets, over-the-top Golden Age of Airtravel cocktails, and sexy little airhostesses (what? Hob is only human, and the outfits were designed to turn the girls wearing them into works of art. Hob's allowed to admire art.)

“I would not be opposed to wearing such an outfit if it would please you, Hob,” Morpheus rumbles in his ear, deep as night and sweet as sin. His timbre here in the Dreaming remains what Hob thinks of as his Dream Voice, laced with magic and the deepness of night. Sometimes, when he makes the effort to draw the cloak of his Endless nature about him, he can still access it in the Waking. But it's becoming less and less common. “Though I do not think my legs would be as comely.”

“They would in those heels, babe,” Hob laughs, and turns toward the window seat to catch Morpehus’ mouth quick and dirty with his own. “But that’s not why I’m dreaming about air travel.”

Morpheus bites his lower lip playfully. “Are you planning a trip, erasti?”

“Betrayed by my own subconscious,” Hob huffs, and pulls back. “It was sorta supposed to be a surprise.” Concentrating on his lucid dreaming, Hob produces replicas of the Broadway tickets.

Morpheus takes one and studies it, eyebrows lowering in confusion. “You would cross the ocean simply for a play?”

“A good play,” Hob hedges, wondering if he is really going to get away with the subterfuge.

Does he tell Morpheus it’s just for the performance, and then spring the Walkers on him?

Or would that do the opposite of what Destiny had asked, make Morpheus resent both Hob and this mortal niece and nephew? And what would it mean for this mysterious friend Lyta that Hob’s supposed to reconnect Morpheus with?

Hob hasn’t looked into her too deeply, for fear of coming off creepy or weird. However, according to both the internet and Hob’s chats with Rose, Lyta is an architect, and the sole partner in a firm that used to include her late husband. She lives in the same building as the Walkers. They share a tight bond, as Rose had been there for her husband’s death, and then Lyta returned the compassion while Rose slowly lost her mother.

Lyta’s also recently had a baby. The dates around the death of her husband don’t align with when she might have conceived, so Hob assumes there’s a new boyfriend in her life, or a rebound that had gone wrong (or right,) or the late husband had frozen his sperm, and Lyta had done IVF. All possibilities, and all none of Hob’s goddamned business.

He wants to form his own relationship with her as honestly and organically as he can, before shoving her at his lover and telling them to make up. (Hob still has no idea why she hates Morpheus.)

“Well, it’s not Shakespeare,” Morpheus allows offhandedly, manifesting a single puffball-perfect, light purple scabius blossom.

Hob laughs. “Oh, don’t be so dramatic. My taste isn’t that bad!”

He takes the flower, presses it to his lips, and is about to suggest he and Morpheus join the mile high club when the blossom wavers and reblooms as a darkly purple, star-shaped nightshade.

Morpheus looks from the plant to his lover, and smirks. “Are you lying to me, Hob Gadling?”

Hob puffs out a sigh and runs his free hand through his hair. “No! No, not… not lying. Just… not telling the whole truth.” He twirls the stem of the tattle-tale flower in between his fingers, releasing the sweet scent of the flower into the cabin. Then he sets it down and takes Morpheus’s hands between his own, resting them on the narrow arm rest separating them. “I’m going to New York to perform a boon-–no don’t ask me which sibling, or what the task itself is, I won’t tell you. But I’m going to New York, and I want you to come with me.”

“To a play,” Morpheus repeats, clearly unconvinced. "For a task, as Vassal of the Endless."

“The play is a reward for your good behaviour, O Prince of Stories, and a treat for me.”

Morpheus wraps his fingers around Hob’s, tight and demanding. “And pray tell me, what does this visit entail for me, that you feel the need to pre-book a reward for my lack of a tantrum?”

Hob licks his lips. Morpheus’s starlit eyes drop to them immediately, so Hob does it again.

“You are stalling, innamorato,” Morpheus growls, but doesn’t lift his gaze away from Hob’s mouth.

“I… I’ve been in communication with Rose Walker,” Hob confesses in a rush, deciding to rip off the bandaid.

Morpheus rears back, eyebrows bouncing high, lips pursed in a pissy frown. “Who gave you permission? She is my niece–”

“You’re not her only uncle, you know,” Hob says, taking his turn to squeeze his lover’s fingers and keep him rooted to the dream seat, preventing him from whispering away in a sandy strop. “And like you said, I am Vassal of the Endless. All of the Endless, not just the siblings you get along with.”

Morpheus swallows the rest of his indignant protest with an audible click. He chews on the truth of what Hob’s saying, the look on his face suggesting that it’s awfully sour.

“Look, I know you don’t like it, but I need to see them. I need to talk to them. And I want you to come with me.”

“Why?” Morpheus grinds out, the single syllable grating against his teeth.

Hob gawps at him. “Because they’re your family, duckie. You're going to be human soon—don't tell me you don't want the family connection. Rose and Jed, they won't live forever, but they may have kids, and don't you want to be part of their lives? Don't you want that… that anchor? That privilege? I know I would give anything to know what happened to the descendants of my sisters’s living children.”

Morpheus seems to muse on this, and while Hob can't tell from his expression on what side of the fence his lover lands, he does catch the little eyelid flicker which means Morpheus has decided to acquiesce to his pleas in order to keep Hob happy. "Do you require me to intervene on your behalf with them?"

"No. I just… I want you to spend time with them, that's all," Hob says gently.

"And what does this have to do with the task laid before you by one of my siblings?"

Hob tugs on his ear, once again debating the probability of complete honesty working in his favour, or blowing up in his face. The nightshade hanging in the air between them fades away into dream sand and reforms as a spray of freesia.

Morpheus frowns at it, a fetching little furrow appearing between his eyebrows. It's the one which Hob always wants to smooth away with his thumb, and this time he lets himself reach up and do so. Morpheus transfers his gaze to Hob's face, eyes sliding back down to Hob's mouth.

He takes Hob's upraised hand gently, and presses a slow, open-mouthed and lingering kiss against Hob's wrist, testing his pulse with his night-cool tongue. Hob shudders, feeling the dream of the airplane wisp away around them.

"Very well," Morpheus rumbles. "I will do as you entreat and trust you."

"You'll meet me there?" Hob asks, even as the freesia changes again, this time into a headily perfumed white-and-yellow jonquil.

"I will. Name the day."

"Okay. I promise, Morpheus—"

"Hob," the King of Dreams and Nightmares says, and pushes Hob back onto his bed. Hob doesn’t wonder how they got to Morpheus’ private chambers in his castle. He only arches his spine and spreads his limbs wide in invitation, which his lover accepts, as he knew Morpheus would. "I have said I will attend."

Even Hob rarely sees Morpheus' bed chambers in the dreaming, for more often they make love in the Waking, or in a fantasy replica of Hob's apartment or other analogous location. The walls around them are an ever-shifting marble of purple and deep blue, the colours of the sky in the gloaming. The pillows are made up of piles of scarlet-pink-orange-peach sunset clouds, fluffy and sweet-smelling, and the bedclothes the star-pricked heavens of twilight.

If there is other furniture in the room besides the massive, body-cradling bed, Hob has no idea. He's always had much better things to pay attention to when he's in this room than the decor.

"Thank you, duckie," Hob says, as Morpheus fists his long, slim fingers in Hob's hair and tugs just enough for it to be exciting. Hob gasps, high and sweet, as Morpheus scrapes his teeth—pointed and thrillingly nightmarish—along his clavicle.

"Enough talk, Hob Gadling," Morpheus intones, his words an edict. "Put your mouth to better use."

And who is Hob to ever deny a direct order from his King?

See, one of the nice things about sex in the Dreaming is that first, Morpheus can present with any arrangement of genitals that he's feeling fit his current mood he wants. And, secondly, there does not need to be any elaborate hygiene ritual to ensure that one's body is prepared to receive a tongue.

This convenience is balanced out by the extreme inconvenience of mornings where Hob is more often than not ridiculously stuck to his PJs. A wet dream or two (or three, or four) will do that to a man. Hob could, of course, choose not to wear anything at night, but that would just mean he'd have to change the sheets every time Morpheus felt frisky, and that is more work than it's worth. Hob's seriously thinking about looking into period panties as nightwear, solely due to their absorbent properties. Hob's also begun waxing his pubic hair simply because it makes his morning showers faster.

He's not saying that the faster Morpheus the God of Sleep becomes Morph the Immortal Human full-time, the better. Of course not. Morpheus' transition should happen at his own pace and comfort level. But Hob is definitely looking forward to not having to peel himself out of his pajamas in the shower before he can start the day.

"Hob!" Morpheus says with another imperious tug of his hair. "Cease daydreaming and—"

Using the element of surprise, Hob wraps a thick thigh around Morpheus' hip, shoves his shoulder, and gets the skinny little nightmare under him.

"What are you—oh!" Morpheus gasps, as Hob folds his fingers over Morpheus' stomach, rocks back on his own heels, and hauls his lover's pelvis up to his mouth to see what he's working with.

A beautifully camelia-pink pussy pouts up at him. It is already swelling open, moist and delicious, with the cutest little clit winking at Hob from under its soft hood.

"My, my," Hob tuts, rubbing his cheek on the soft moon-pale flesh of his lover's inner thigh, leaving a deliberate ruby-red beard rash behind. "If you wanted my cock so badly, all you had to do was ask, duckie."

Morpheus gets his black-laquered nails into Hobs shoulders and digs in. "This is asking."

"Right, of course," Hob murmurs, smearing the words against Morpheus' glistening labia. "Why use words when you can just sit on my fa—mmph!"

Now it is Hob's turn to be surprised, as Morpheus surges up and, using his superior eldritch power to force Hob's shoulders back onto the springy bed to do just that. Morpheus grinds down against Hob's chin, and Hob opens his mouth, points his tongue, and puts it to the demanded use obligingly.

Even when he desires to be topped, Morpheus is bossy.

Hob wouldn't have him any other way, honestly.

From the moment Hob had craned his head back to look up at the long, lithe line of Morpheus' body in 1389, he'd known that he would be happy to be on his knees, chin tipped up and throat exposed, for the rest of his life. Acts of Service and Gifts are his love language, and like ridiculously expensive Greek wine, whole Inns, venison pasties, and appearing on a TV show to make his lover happy, Hob delights at giving orgasms, too.

Morpheus is his God, Hob is Head Priest and Supplicant, and Hob is filled with zinging joy to be made to lay back on the altar of Morpheus' regard, and worship.

PREVIOUS PART | NEXT PART

[thefvrious]

@blumhouses sent in lestat/akasha

Who would be the big spoon/little spoon? lestat is the big spoon Who would wake up first? lestat wakes at the earliest possible moment, if we're talking when they're vampires, but otherwise, she's a human so akasha Do they have nicknames for each other? oh they have all sorts of interesting names for one another. How do they apologize after an argument? lestat doesn't apologize, he moves on. i don't think akasha does, either. makes for an interesting dynamic. What would they be like as parents? oh, absolutely fucking chaotic. god bless that child. Who is more romantic? lestat has a very romantic nature, but akasha has a desire to be romanced, so it's sort of level What sort of gifts do they get for each other? absolutely outlandishly extravagant gifts. Who gets jealous easiest? they both get jealous pretty easily Who gets more excited for events e.g.. Birthdays, Christmas? I don't think either of them cares much for worldly holidays. akasha might be interested at first because it's new to her. Who is the most adventurous? they're both equally as adventurous as the other Who is the most protective? they are both fiercely protective What would they have been like as childhood sweethearts? i think things might've been more interesting for lestat's story-line had this happened because he would have replaced enkil as the king of the damned, and i don't think he would've gone dormant like that. they'd have been a force to be reckoned with, that's for certain. Who uses all the hot water? lestat makes sure there's an endless supply Who would accidentally set the kitchen on fire whilst cooking? lestat. because why should he cook? Who initiates sexy times the most? lestat, he's a fiend. Who is more dominant? lestat What would they do if the other one was hurt? with a protective vengefulness, absolutely Who gives nose/forehead kisses? hm. interesting question. i don't think this is a big thing for either of them. What their biggest fight was/will be about: probably how fucking stubborn lestat is BONUS #1: Song to sum them up? still good dnce BOTTOM LINE: Do I ship it? who doesn't?

[ubuntufm]

hhunter - Go Get Your Lover

Drugs, Dirty Dancing & Pounding Techno

Rising talent from Chicago’s underground techno scene, hhunter makes a bold debut on HE.SHE.THEY. Records with his thrilling EP.



Go big or go home, they say, and hhunter is going as big as they can with 2 outlandishly epic belters. He describes Go Get Your Lover as ‘a sexy, fierce track that has a heavy Euro trance influence.’ The call to head straight to the dancefloor is impossible to ignore with its unrelenting drive & gratifying melodic shifts.

[the-house-of-auditore-frye]

So... is anybody accepting requests for Netflix's Scrooge?👀

Because I can't write to save my life but I had an idea for one of Harry's friends who has a big crush on Scrooge but knowing he'll never feel... feelings... she decides the best way to deal with it is to flirt with him outlandishly.

"Mister Scrooge... if i had no money to repay my debt, could i pay you back some other way?😏😉😈"

And then after the ghosts visit him and he realises he could have a happy future with her, the next time he sees her, he flirts back and catches her off guard

"Naughty girls need to be punished, don't they?"

I'm just being self indulgent here. I don't know who's idea it was to make Scrooge sexy but I don't know whether I want to thank them or yell at them. If someone told me a few years ago that I'd be thirsting over Scrooge, I'd think they were high.

And the cane doesn't help...😫

[pumpkinofthedale]

Here’s the fanficfic! Sorry if I stepped on any toes, and I hope you enjoy it :)))

The party was bumping. Though you supposed that was to be expected, given who was hosting it.

Unlike that first Christmas party, however, this one was being thrown for a much different occasion: to end Eridan’s summer vacation with a bang. There were fewer people this time; the guest list mostly consisting of Eridan’s friends, Cronus’ friends, and some of their friends by extension, along with a few tertiary friends thrown in for good measure.

But you weren’t really one to keep track, so you just showed up in a nice blouse and shorts with the intent of sticking by your boyfriend for the evening.

Of course, it was Eridan who greeted you at the door, toothy grin on his face when he saw you. “You came!”

“Of course I did.” You smiled, “Wouldn’t want to miss out.” He let you in, escorted you to the outlandishly large backyard, and you beelined for the food.

The spread was, as usual, incredible. Bowls of fresh-cut fruit, plates of barbecued burgers, hot dogs, fish, and chicken, and a whole table dedicated to drinks. You grabbed a skewer and scored yourself a glass of lemonade. Elsewhere on the grass, a group of kids about Eridan’s age were playing in a sprinkler.

You glanced towards the pool—and oh, it was so big—but made your way towards the hedges near the edge of the yard to enjoy your food in relative peace.

You watched as other guests, troll and human alike, filed in, and wondered how much longer you’d have to wait until Cronus showed up. Not that he was the only reason you came, but he was one of the main reasons you planned on staying.

You’d gotten about halfway through your second glass of lemonade when your boyfriend finally showed up, tight white tank top emblazoned with his sign.

You had to double take when he spotted you, though, because you hadn’t expected him to be wearing booty shorts.

It was definitely a good look on him, though.

You took another swig of your drink as he stalked over to you, shark-toothed grin plastered on his face.

“About time you showed up,” you teased the moment he made it to you. “Almost thought you might not show.”

“And miss this view, babe?” His eyes flicked up and down your body, hands straying towards your hips. “You know I love seeing your pretty eyes up close, doll.”

You took his hands in yours, mostly because you weren’t sure you wanted them on your hips right now.

“Oh, and uh, sorry for being so loud, Tuesday night.” He apologized. “I’ll try to tone it down next time, kitten, so you don’t get quite so many noise complaints.”

You finished off your lemonade. “I don’t know,” and then you leaned in, tugging your boyfriend down by the shoulder so you could whisper in his ear like the smooth, sexy person you so obviously were, “I kinda like it when you’re screaming my name.” You pecked him on the cheek.

Cronus’ face flushed, fins fluttering as he trilled quietly. “Oh… yeah, okay.”

You held up your glass, “I’m gonna go refill my drink real quick, okay?” You turned around and made your way to the middle table, grabbing another chicken skewer as you went.

It was as you were refilling your glass that you were approached by two unknown trolls.

Wait, no, you think you might’ve been told about them by Cronus before. You nodded your head in greeting. “Meenah and Porrim, right?”

Porrim nodded. “And you are?”

You gave them your name.

Meenah cleared her throat. “So how much is that buoy paying ya?”

It took you a second to process this. What did she—

Oh.

Oh.

You weren’t sure whether to laugh or be mildly offended. “He’s… not?”

Porrim frowned. “Are you quite sure?”

Being completely honest, you fully understood where they were coming from. Hell, you from eleven months ago probably would have felt the same.

But at the same time, you were mildly offended that they pegged you as so shallow, so easily bought. “I am telling you with one-hundred percent honesty: Cronus isn’t paying me a dime.”

You pushed past them, fully intent on returning to Cronus (and maybe laughing about this little incident), but were stopped by Porrim’s grip on your arm.

“Oh, dear,” She all but whispered, aghast, “It’s okay, we can help you.”

…You didn’t think you liked where this was going.

You tried to wrench your arm free, but Porrim was holding it in an iron grip. “Look, I’m not gonna lie and say that I don’t see exactly where you’re coming from here, because trust me, I do.” You set your lemonade on the table and carefully pried your arm from Porrim’s grip. “Believe me when I say that if Cronus was violating the boundaries I’ve set I would not hesitate to dump him, okay?” You smiled, but it didn’t feel quite as genuine as you hoped it looked. “Now, if you’ll excuse me,” you grabbed your lemonade and shuffled past them, “I’ve got places to be.”

The table wasn’t that far from the spot you had picked, so there was no doubt that Cronus would have been able to see Meenah and Porrim interrogating you. As you approached, though, you realized why he hadn’t come over: another troll (Aranea? Yeah, you were pretty sure that was Aranea) had him pressed up against the hedges without even touching him, talking him into submission. As you got closer, you could start to make out what she was saying.

You resisted the urge to snort. She was pressing him for information on your relationship, likely out of the same concern that had Meenah and Porrim approaching you earlier.

She hadn’t noticed your arrival. Cronus had; there was a silent plea in his eyes.

Right. You’d told him you weren’t exactly comfortable spilling every detail just yet. It actually made your heart flutter a little to see him trying to respect that, even if the result was him being cagey and trying to be anywhere but under Aranea’s scrutinizing gaze.

You cleared your throat. “Hello.” Aranea turned to face you. “Aranea, right?” You offered your free hand. “I don’t believe we’ve met before.”

She smiled, “It’s nice to meet you,—?”

You gave her your name. “And before you ask, no, Cronus isn’t paying me, and no, I do not need help dumping him. Nor am I trying to.”

Cronus made a sound akin to a dying fish being put through a wood chipper.

“Oh!” Aranea startled. “And you’re certain of this?”

“Yes.” You stared her down, taking a sip of your lemonade.

Aranea shrugged. “Well, I guess some people just have terrible taste—” Cronus gasped in offense— “But to each their own.”

She started walking away, but paused, “Lemme know if he ever hurts you, though, so I can get the girls together to give him a good thrashing, okay?”

You shrugged. “Sure.”

Aranea chuckled, then left.

“Wow, Chief,” Cronus sidled up next to you, tentatively slinging an arm across your shoulders, “That’s quite some nerve you’ve got there. Care to show me what else you can do?”

You took another sip of your lemonade. “When we’re not in public, Cro.”

You could feel his eyebrows wriggling. “That a promise?”

You laughed. “Yes.”

_________________________________________________________

Holy shit!!!!! This is hilarious!!!!!!!!!!

You are absolutely not stepping on my toes or anything like that Though I did have a few things already planned out. It’s very cute seeing everyone’s interpretations and I’m so happy people are having a lot of fun and theorizing about things! It’s really amazing and I love it so much

after all, good endings only is based around the same kind of principle that pesterquest and friendsim are where there are a lot of ways things can go down and that’s part of the fun. So while this isn’t the primary ending it is like a fun little offshoot to explore!

[pasteleriasilvestre]

The Sexy-Gross Story of Puce

Cultural histories of unusual hues.

Puce is a color that’s been around for as long as we’ve been spilling blood and watching it dry, but it didn’t get a name until the summer of 1775 when French dressmaker Rose Bertin made Marie-Antoinette a gown in a color that blurred the lines between brown and maroon with only a hint of pinkish-gray. According to a biography of Bertin, the Louis XVI strode into a room where his wife was hanging out, wearing her brand new silk dress, and exclaimed, “That is puce!” He had observed, and rightfully so, that her dress was the same color as a flea (or, in French, “une puce”).

Considering what happens next, I imagine he meant this as praise. While that’s bug-colored doesn’t sound like a fantastic compliment to receive from a significant other, the French court went wild for this King-approved and Queen-endorsed red. “As the new colour did not soil easily, and was therefore less expensive than lighter tints, the fashion of puce gowns was adopted by the bourgeoisie, and dyers were unable to meet the pressing requirements of their customers,” explains The History of Fashion in France. Soon, both men and women were wearing trendy puce-colored taffetas and satins (or sending their old rags out to be dyed anew). “But the color was not always exactly the same shade, so they made a difference between old and young flea, and then made subdivisions, and you could see clothes the color of the flea’s ‘back’, ‘head,’ or ‘thigh’,” adds historian Augustin Challamel. But the muddy, bloody red went out of fashion as quickly as it blew in. Legend has it that, on another occasion just months following his puce ejaculation, Louis XVI saw his wife in a fab new gray gown and said something along the lines of, “That dress is the color of your hair!”

Portrait of Marie Antoinette painted in 1785 for the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, by Louise Élisabeth Vigée Le Brun – Private collection, Public Domain, via Wikimedia Commons.

(According to a collection of anonymous letters from the time period—exhaustingly titled Mémoires secrets pour servir à l’histoire de la République des Lettres en France depuis 1762 jusqu’à nos jours or “Secret Memoirs Serving as a History of the Republic of Letters in France from 1762 until Our Days”—“queen’s hair” replaced puce immediately as the It color: “From that moment, puce was out of fashion, and valets were despatched from Fontainebleau to Paris to procure velvet, ratteen, and cloth, of that colour…”)

Puce may have faded from prominence, but even the most abstract of things, once publicly named and identified, continues to exist in some way or another. While it may seem odd that the rather crudely named insect-inspired color became so quickly coveted, there was already a conceptual link between fleas and desire. In John Donne’s “The Flea” (published in 1633), the poet uses parasitic insects as a metaphor for fucking, and as a way to pressure his beloved into doing so. “It sucked me first, and now sucks thee, / And in this flea our two bloods mingled be; / Though know’st that this cannot be said / A sin, nor shame, nor loss of maidenhead,” he writes, and that’s just the first stanza. Donne goes on to chastise this poor girl for killing the flea after arguing that she should just “yield” to him.

In a 2009 article on puce in Cabinet magazine, Barry Sanders makes a strong argument that fleas have a murderous side, as well as an “outlandishly sexual” one:

The flea took on its sexual identiy from a string of suggestive cognates with puce, like pucelle, ‘maiden’ (and in certain contexts, ‘slut’); pucelage, ‘maidenhead’; and depuceler, ‘to deflower.’ In addition, the French eroticize the flea in a popular phrase since the fourteenth century, ‘avoir la puce a l’oreille’ (‘to have a flea in one’s ear,’ meaning that one harbors a libidinous urge, ‘a sexual itch.’ Say the word puce today and a Frenchman will either titter or offer a knowing wink.

Image: Wellcome via Wikimedia Commons

I do not know whether Frenchmen still react this way, but there are others who desire puce. According to numerous antiquing bloggers, “bottle-diggers” lust after puce-toned glass relics, which can fetch a high price on eBay or at antique fairs, with the “puce eagle” bottle being particularly popular. (Question: Would you watch a Detectorist-style television series about bottle-diggers set in the American Midwest? I would.) In the past few decades, puce has become one of those cocktail party tidbits of knowledge that gets passed around, showing up randomly in movie dialogue for no other purpose than to showcase the writer’s encyclopedic intelligence/justify their art history minor. Puce gets shout-outs in Monsters Inc., Santa Claus: The Movie, and Fright Night. It’s also mentioned in Ulysses, but I think perhaps James Joyce was thinking of the other puce—the wrong puce—since Buck Mulligan says they want “puce gloves” to match his “green boots”. (The wrong puce is pea soup green and it seems to be a visual malapropism of British origins, and frankly, I think this green-puce is bullshit and should be ignored like the Johnny-come-lately it is.)

Unfortunately for those of us who desire exactitude while hypocritically chaffing under its rigors, puce is still somewhat of an unsettled color. You can find many different puces in the paint color and hex code worlds. Sometimes puce veers closer to mauve, while others it appears downright brown (and occasionally it appears as a pale boy belly-flop pink). Pantone’s puce is a particular disappointment. It lacks the gutsiness of some of the other tones; it’s a matte brown that is neither earthy and warm nor layered and intriguing. Personally, I think we should bring back the original French naming system for these varieties of puce. Flea-thigh, flea-belly, flea-back, new-flea, old-flea, dead-flea, live-flea—each one with its own tint and tone. There is a squalidness to this naming system that appeals to my messier tendencies, and an intuitive precision to it that is reminiscent of Werner’s Nomenclature of Colours. It would fit well next to his more corporeal colors—Veinous Blood Red, Gallstone Yellow, and Liver Brown. The slim volume is mainly filled with lovingly named colors (inspired by nature and his paint box in equal measures), yet every now and then, a bodily function sneaks in. Peach blossom red, rose red, and then: arterial blood red. And that is the story of puce—amidst such beauty, such repulsion.

Katy Kelleher is a writer who lives in Maine with her two dogs and one husband.

[codylabs]

My Top 10 Ships

I’m not a very romantic sort of guy, I’m not real forgiving to departures from canon, I get easily annoyed at inconsistencies, and I don’t watch much television and movies, so in order for me to ship something, it has to be a GOOD ship. I default toward rejecting ships, so to impress ME, it must be built on logic, and evidence, it’s gotta be something I can suspend my disbelief far enough to accept. And it’s gotta have story behind it, something deep, some hefty emotional weight; if it doesn’t tickle this man’s cold reptilian heart with strong beats and excellent writing, it goes straight to the trash. I absoLUTELY will not stand for any of these weird little cute, pretty, pandering, trashy crack ships that everybody seems to be clumsily throwing characters into. Most ships are trash ships. They are not good ships.

You think your ship is good? You like your ship?

You ship it?

No you don’t.

Get out of here.

You will listen to me. I will tell you. Look at me. I’m the Captain now.

Here are the 10 good ships.

10. The Rocinante, The Expanse

A resoundingly excellent ship. Unlike most ships you see out there, this thing was actually designed with realistic space combat in mind. It’s got 6 computer-controlled gatling turrets covering every angle, it accelerates in whatever direction it’s pointing, its bridge is right in the center to put as much armor as possible between enemies and crew, overall a much better-designed vehicle than most everything you see about.

That being said, I didn’t have much connection to this ship. Its crew weren’t really interesting, the aesthetic was kinda bleak, and I basically stopped watching after the phazon showed up. And the Rocinante itself has pretty poor redundancy. Enemy bullets can literally just pass through it (as is realistic for a ship this size) so how about multiple main engines huh? Absolutely tragic oversight. And its interior looks too much like an Apple product. How are you supposed to work on it? Where are the wires and pipes??? The handholds?????

9. Ares IV M.A.V., The Martian

Almost more of a symbol than a ship. A symbol of freedom, of escape. A beautiful symbol. This is what Mark Watney spends the whole movie trying to reach, with an entire world backing him up, and an entire world trying to stop him. It’s the goal of the movie, and it just looks so beautiful when he finally reaches it and sees it sitting there in the middle of the desert, ass down, nose up; a tall, proud symbol. This ship has a special significance for me because the author of the original book really did his research on the scientific requirements and details of a Mars Ascent Vehicle, and it was actually inspired by the E.R.V. in another book, ‘A Case For Mars’, which I read when I was younger. “Makes its own methane-oxygen fuel on-site by using nuclear power to break down CO2 in the atmosphere and combining it with stored hydrogen, don’t you know.” I say as I adjust my spectacles and puff my pipe.

The M.A.V. in the movie does have a few issues, such as hallway and rooms running straight up through where the fuel tanks ought to be (instead of a lift/ladder on the exterior) and a rugged, industrial aesthetic that looks too heavy and cumbersome for a ship of its type. (And you’re seriously telling me he couldn’t have used the capsule’s RCS to literally bypass the movie’s entire climax? WHY NOT? The book never mentioned him having to drain the monopropellant!!!) But I’ll let that slide. Great movie.

8. Biggest Boy, The Greatship

(I don’t know the ship name so I had to make up a name. You know what, I think it’s actually just called the Greatship.)

So it’s a starship the size of Jupiter, empty, unmanned, perfectly mysterious, that comes gliding into the galaxy a couple million years into humanity’s future. Where did it come from? Who made it and how? Good questions. It’s powered by matter-antimatter annihilation reactions from within planet-sized internal tanks, and its engines use hydrogen and fusion exhaust as reaction mass, and its hull is made of hyperfiber, a super-strong fictional material with a 4-dimensional lattice structure, able to weather impacts by spreading them out over various dimensions where the impact occurred in a different place.

I hope that after the first few entries, you didn’t get the impression that I am somehow against futuristic, far-out, impossible technologies. Quite the opposite! I love me some hyperdrive and anti-gravity and A.I. and stuff. However! Ships must be well-designed for the technology available, and must take no creative liberties except those explicitly allowed by the difference in the setting. The laws of physics don’t disappear when the magic crystals come out, the magic crystals are merely a different tool to combat them. Engineering will always exist, should start with the tools and work outward, form follows function. Star Wars ships, for instance, are trash because they don’t mount their repulsorlift arrays consistently, they’re not aerodynamic, and their engines aren’t aligned around their center of masses.

So I like the Great Ship. Although the story is pretty far-fetched, and a lot of crazy, out-there scifi events transpire deep in the ship’s depths, the book always strictly kept its own rules in mind, and never broke those rules, no matter how outlandishly crazy things got. Thanks for comprehending something so incomprehensible, Robert Reed. You inspired me miles in my own work.

7. The Ghost, The Sea Wolf

The story may be fiction, but the Ghost was as real as ghosts can be.

Jack London did his research. No, not research, he LIVED this. The Ghost is a seal-hunting schooner much like one that he served aboard during his rollercoaster of a life, and he captured every detail of its operation, of its requirements, of its mechanics, and of the incredible toll it took on the people that lived such a life. The boat is made to feel as oppressive and claustrophobic as a prison, as if it were an extension of the monster that commanded it, directly in contrast to the expansive beauty of the sea around them. My goodness, what a beautiful book. What a moving, interesting, challenging book, with such a story! This book is one of the climaxes of fiction, and one of the inspirations for Shifting Sands, if I remember correctly. I would recommend this book to anybody. Beautiful.

6. Ferbnessa, Phineas and Ferb

Okay, so I hope we can all agree that Vanessa is nothing but bad news. But that being said, Ferb knows exactly the relationship he wants, and by golly, he goes for it. Most male characters would stutter or get nervous or lose confidence around their crush, especially if that crush is about a hundred miles out of their league or if they already had another boyfriend, but Ferb? No. Not my man Ferb. He’s slighly too much of a legend to fall for such childish pitfalls. He doesn’t posture, he doesn’t creep or flirt or try to sabotage the other men in her life, he doesn’t even speak a word, he just maintains his blank expression, cranks his own already-inhuman levels of confidence and competence up through the roof to borderline olympian levels, and continues being himself. These rare moments of Ferbly passion are some of the few open windows we get into the grandiose machinations of his mysterious mind, and he uses it to bring out the best in Vanessa as well. And in the future episode, set years down the line, wouldn’t you know it, they’re a pair.

All joking aside though, this whole ship is basically comedy. It’s a super small part of the show, it’s only in like 5 episodes, it’s a running gag, it’s hilarious. It’s great. And it fits right into the tone and the feel of the show, because P&F’s entire world really is a comedy about going for it and living your dreams. So this is just the best thing ever. It’s been about a decade since then, and I still burst out laughing at how much of a pristine picture of ideal masculinity Ferb is. Become like Ferb, boys, and you will become men.

Legendary.

Eat your heart out, Dipper.

3. Shunk, Voltron

(I don’t know the ship name so I had to make up a name)

Huge props to the voltron team for making a female alien character (even a romantic interest) with NO BOOBS. Do you have ANY idea how sick and tired I am of artists throwing a big ol’ pair of balonkadongs onto lobsters and snakes when almost everything in the real world besides folks and cows have either 0 or 8+ of them? Everything’s gotta be traditionally sexy and recognizably-feminine and GREAT now you just canonized all the porn! Disgusteg

but now look at Shay. She’s a rock person. She’s got silicon-based biology, she probably weighs 500 lbs and bleeds sand. She’s got enormous hands and weird knees and no nose and lumps everywhere, AND YET STILL the show plays all the tropes 100% straight with her being a fair young maiden and a sweet princess. And it works because Hunk is just this great guy who’s exactly as sweet and caring, and he’s not the most attractive of the Paladins either, so he probably lives his life looking past appearances. He doesn’t care that she’s an alien rock, he cares about her as a person, and she obviously worships him right back. Even though Shay is shown in season 1 and then never again until season 7, Hunk still avoids alternative romantic entanglements, citing ‘a rock I know’, and it just adds to his persona as this infinitely loyal teddy bear. I tip my hat to this, the single ship I know that’s 0% sexy and 100% wholesome.

And Hunk is the best Paladin. He’s just the greatest. I revere him. I salute him as he walks past. This man among men. Look at this guy. I don’t even care about any of the other ships in Voltron (I mean, the Castle of Lions is okay, but it’s outriggers are kinda spindly) but Hunk and Shay deserve each other.

4. Wendip, Gravity Falls

So Dipper’s 12/13, and Wendy’s 15. That’s a pretty giant age difference. Maybe you fans have fooled yourselves into thinking it’s not, but it is. She knows it. He knows it. His sister knows it. Your mom knows it. So halfway through the show, when he finally got around to confessing his feelings to her, she told him no. Sure they’re still friends, sure they like each other, and sure they have a lot of chemistry and they still have a movie night every Friday, but at the end of the day, he’s a smelly little midget who has to go back to California at the end of the Summer, and she’s a older girl with approximately zero romantic feelings for him. So the notion that it could work out is pretty obvious to everyone, and especially to him, pretty much hopeless. And he really did handle it all pretty poorly and immaturely too, he objectified her and stalked her and simped up a storm and sabotaged her boyfriend, so perhaps he deserved what he got. Perhaps it’s better this way.

And yet.

And yet Wendy never really got a happy ending in the show. And Dipper never got a conclusive romance either. So after everything, it’s easy to think about it how he thinks about it, by wondering how things could have been, if everything were just so slightly different, if she’d said yes or if they united again. She wishes she could be younger, he wishes he could be older. She’s more dominant, he’s more recessive. She has a lot of serious issues in her life, and could really seriously use a driven, heroic, intelligent friend to help her out, give her purpose, and steer her right. And Lord knows he could use somebody with street smarts and actual muscles to have his back now and again. They complement each other perfectly. They make up for each others’ weaknesses. They’re everything they ever wanted from another, and if you do the math, their children would be actual literal supersoldiers.

Or at least that’s the way a lot of people see it. There’s been immeasurable mountains of fanfiction and fanart from people who are just so sad that in a show full of happy endings and dreams coming true and old regrets being resolved and children growing up, that one ending would never be happy, one dream would never come to pass, one regret would stick with you forever, one child would never grow up. Maybe if you extrapolate out the story they’d end up together? Or maybe they’d find other, better partners? Maybe romance isn’t all that important in the grand scheme of things, and this is the best ending there could have been? Perhaps, perhaps not. But in any case, there’s a lot of very rich storytelling potential for the untold journey before them, and for the paths that could have been.

Stop drawing fetish art of Wendy, you insufferable heathen actual donkeys.

3. Kataang, Avatar: The Last Airbender

Now HERE’S a serious relationship. Not just a romantic ship, (though it is that,) not just some cutesy, funny thing or some ship-war fodder, (though it is cute and funny and did spawn a ship-war,) not just a matter of certainty and destiny, (though it is certain and was destined,) this is a real, TANGIBLE relationship, that these characters built together over a solid year of on-screen adventuring and fighting. They’ve helped each other through trauma, they’ve been there for each other in their darkest moments, they learned martial-arts together, they’ve fought back-to back against grown men, they’ve worked front-to-front sawing through steel girders, they’ve saved each other’s lives, he once ACTUALLY DIED and she brought him BACK. They end up respecting each other, and valuing each other in the intimate way that only true friends do.

And they’re shown working through all their imperfections and mistakes too. Aang sometimes oversteps boundaries and says stupid stuff because he’s a kid, and Katara sometimes scolds him and controls him because she’s motherly and orderly, they get jealous of each other, but none of those things drive them apart, and they deal with them, and they conquer them, and they keep a very legitimate and multi-faceted friendship going, and that’s the key to it all. The fact that this friendship becomes romance is just proof that it was a friendship of quality.

I think people tend to overlook or forget this ship because the last few episodes of the show found them in a pretty dark place, needing to deal with matters of life and death and justice in very different ways, and unlike all their other issues, we don’t really get to see them reconciling these differences before the story ends, which kind of leaves a sour taste between them. And Katara goes on a couple missions with Zuko around the same time, so now half of all people want Zutara, when in actuality, Zutara is a trash ship, which is a true science fact.

2. Serenity, Firefly

Only reason this ship isn’t #1 is because it isn’t constructed using a proper aerospace philosophy; it’s made of bulky machinery and steel beams and chunky plates, it looks more like an ocean vessel from the inside, and is WAY too big for its 6-12 person crew and light cargo capacity. Plus it doesn’t have any room for fuel and its got no wheels on its landing legs and no downward-facing windows and its reactor is just too dang SMOL and its engines are attached too flimsily. This all wouldn’t be too much of an issue if they were going for a far-future aesthetic, but if you’re trying to do something grounded and semi-contemporary, you need to lose some weight girl, I’m sorry.

But by gosh does it make up for it in heart. The entire inside of this ship was mapped out and made on set, with so many homely little decorations and touches to make every room feel like the person who inhabits it, sterile professional blue for the doc’s medbay, warm happy red for Kaylee’s engine room, all-serious-business-but-also-plastic-dinos for Wash’s cockpit... It hit me hard when this baby it crashed in the movie, and it felt almost real when River pretended to mind-meld with it. This ship has more soul in one buffer panel than most shows have in the entire cast, enough to make it seem like its own character, even in a show crowded with charming characters. I love this ship intimately, even if I would have built it differently.

1. Colonial Vessel 46.18′\, Gravity Falls

(I don’t know the ship name so I had to make up a name)

You didn’t think I’d leave out this one, did you? After all the fanfiction I’ve written? This is basically my ship at this point. Anyway, enough about me; the vessel beneath Crash Site Omega really is the quintessential alien ship; its perfectly cliche flying-saucer design taps into all the audience’s pre-existing fanciful notions and imaginings and disbelief-suspension, meanwhile its presentation isn’t cliche or fanciful in the slightest. 

There’s not much to say about it from a technical standpoint, besides personal musings: it would need anti-gravity to stay airborne without thrusters, it would need a FTL drive to cross the distances it did, its drones would need to be made of some kind of semi-liquid to move like they do... But these sort of out-of-the-box, never-before-seen, world-expanding brain-knocks are exactly what makes this ship special. It’s an alien ship, built with technology unknown to people, forged from materials that people don’t possess, and inhabited by beings we will never meet. For all we know, this ship could be perfectly sound from an engineering standpoint, and no engineer in the audience could claim to prove it otherwise, because unlike something like the T.A.R.D.I.S., they never try and fail to explain it away with science buzzwords or canonize its details or show off some fancy glowy reactor. This ancient husk is left as a yawning pit in reason, and that’s beautiful.

Moreover, this ship is an amazingly powerful narrative tool, and a mind-blowing surprise to drop in as a setpiece during the show’s final episodes. This ship embodies everything that made the show’s mysteries special: the evidence presented so early and so consistently, the creativity in creature design, action, and worldbuilding, the yawning depths of unknowable lore, and most of all the burning, unquenched desire to know more... The imprint this ship made in the cliffs over the town has been hanging over the characters’ heads the entire series, and its hull was below their feet from day one, so when they finally revealed it, and explored it, it felt invigorating. Rewarding. This ship, and the glorious feelings and thoughts it represents, have inspired to no end, and haven’t ended yet.

Honorable mentions:

Westley and Buttercup, The Princess Bride

Ooooh man I tell you what, it was really hard trimming this down to 10 for the list, and this one just barely didn’t make the cut, and that mainly because I have a sweet spot for animation and for warrior women, and this sweetness ain’t animated, and this damsel is as distressed as they get. And they don’t have a whole lot of chemistry? I don’t know how to measure that, but I feel like there was a lot of friendship stated that was never shown? Is it sacrilege to say that about True Love? I guess I’ve never exactly had True Love, so what do I know?

The entire plot centers around his devotion to her, and her love for him, and the lengths they go to for one another. He studies fencing and wrestling and wits and tactics for years on a pirate ship as he tried to return to her, and she refused the advances and the offers of an actual prince for as long as she could, even though she thought him dead, and was ready to kill herself when she knew him to be alive and not to be hers. And just such excellent action and characters and humor and story in the entire book surrounding it. Possibly an even better movie, somehow. Happy happy happy happy. They don’t make movies like this no more, why is that? Sad.

Endurance, Interstellar

Actually a pretty realistic design, all considering. They nailed the aesthetic, and the cinematography, and the feel.

It does lose points though, firstly because the shuttlecraft require a booster stage to make it into orbit when leaving Earth, but for the rest of the movie, whenever they’re landing on planets with similar gravity and atmosphere, they can just fly away like it’s no big deal, which is a big inconsistency, both with real life, and more importantly with itself. And how did an under-equipped and struggling space program put this thing in orbit in the first place, anyway? And why don’t their ships land on their asses like proper rockets? And why not tell the crew members the full plan before leaving? See, it’s little things like that, little inconsistencies made for the sake of fitting with story beats and simplifying it for the audience’s sake, that sours this ship for me. I don’t mind creative liberties, but actual plot holes? This thing has a few plot holes, and plot holes are absolutely yucky. So although most of this ship is very yummy, the yucky parts make it all yucky.

Yucky.

Plus its heavy cargo shuttles are about the least-aerodynamic things imaginable, and that’s also yucky, and there’s porcelain tiles in the stasis bay, like what?

Couldashouldawoulda been yummy.

The Hermes, The Martian

This ship. This friggin’ ship.

A beautiful ship. A well-conceived ship. A mathematically sound and engineered ship. It had so many many good ideas behind it. So much math went into calculating its thrust and orbital dynamics for this movie, so much work went into making it fit a contemporary space aesthetic, the panels, the heat sinks, the tanks, so much PRESENTATION I could KISS IT HMWA, but taken as a whole, engineering-wise, the whole ship falls flat on its face, because it just doesn’t fit together. It doesn’t make sense. Look at all those countless modules along its length. What do they do? They don’t do anything! It’s a quarter mile long, and it’s built for only 6 people? It’s meant to carry a lander? Where does the lander dock? Why are the useful airlocks so far off the center of gravity? Why does it have a cockpit? Why is the forward airlock so looooong? Why is the entire ship so loooooong? Why is the ring spinning so slowly? It’s not hard math to figure out how fast it needs to spin! You’re telling me you did ORBITAL DYNAMICS but not the SINGLE physics 101 equation needed to figure out how fast the ring needs to spin??

Btw, let’s talk about that rotating section in the middle! Think about the rotating section! That rotating section means that the front and the back of the ship aren’t actually connected! There’s just a pair of ring-shaped slip-slidey bearings bridging the ship’s middle, slip-slidey bearings that electricity, computer signals, and water and air pipes can’t cross. Why did they design it that way?? In the book the entire ship spun, which makes so much more sense! Why does it have solar panels when it has a reactor canonically capable of 40 times their output? Why are the fuel tanks so small? Why is it always facing prograde even when canonically burning retrograde? Why? WHY? BLRRRRGGGGGRGGGRGGG

In Conclusion, Ships Are Neat

[gascon-en-exil]

Ferdinand/Hubert

002 | Send me a ship and I will tell you:

When I started shipping them:

I’m fairly certain I had a post saying I was intrigued by them once I read they had a paired ending, so around the time we got the text dump.

My thoughts:

The fandom has run with the full comedic potential of just how on point their aesthetic is so much that it can sometimes be easy to forget that they’re weirdly perfect for one another. I remember reading an opinion just before my first Crimson Flower playthrough that Ferdibert represented the most natural conclusion for both their character arcs, and a few months later I’m inclined to agree. I’ll have to write about it sometime. 

What makes me happy about them:

They fit all the AUs. All of them. From canon-divergent scenarios where Ferdinand joins the Lions and saves Hubert from death and suddenly they’re left to deal with that and each other to silly musical AUs to the general feeling of Regency romance* that pervades about half their overall fan content. The other half consists of outlandishly filthy sex. Both are amazing.

*If anyone was wondering, this is most likely a result of their A support being effectively Darcy’s first proposal scene from Pride and Prejudice, only with a Darcy who’s every bit as awful as his reputation suggests and then some and an Elizabeth who’s, ironically, not entirely repulsed. From there it’s a spiral into nervous gifting and UST-laden tea dates.

What makes me sad about them:

Crimson Flower will not end well for them. At best they can hope to die together as the liberators of Fódlan march on Enbarr, but that would require Hubert to publicly express his devotion to his lover above Edelgard and/or her successor…and how likely is that?

Things done in fanfic that annoys me:

Any attempt to make Hubert out to be remorseful for his many heinous actions, or having him believe he’s not good enough for Ferdinand because of them. Hubert is not the sort of man to regret, ever, even with such an outwardly honorable boyfriend. In any case CF!Ferdinand is already ethically compromised in that he prioritized restoring his family’s honor and status over doing the right thing, so if anything he won’t “fix” Hubert so much as being with Hubert will further erode his moral qualms about what the Empire is doing.

Things I look for in fanfic:

Anything that gets the above dynamic and doesn’t try to sanitize Hubert. He’s not a nice guy, even if he’s capable of being a good boyfriend and capable lover and Dom. Comfortably feminine Ferdinand is also nice to see when it shows up, because it’s canon that he’s an opera fanboy who’s down with performing female roles so mild fem!Ferdinand does feel appropriate and true to canon.

My wishlist:

Just keep those AU ideas coming, most of them are gold. 

Who I’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other:

Hard no on Edelgard for Hubert, she and Ferdinand have no chemistry either but at least they get married and make sense as a political marriage. I don’t really have any others I ship with either of them, but various supports they have with women do have actual chemistry. They’d never join the Lions orgy in an AM ending, mostly because Hubert absolutely would try to kill Dimitri mid-coitus. Plus, most of the Lions would probably find their polite garden romance unusual, enmeshed as they are in the deeply homosocial culture of Faerghus knighthood that contextualizes love and sex between men very different from the heteronormative standard Ferdibert seem to be approximating.

My happily ever after for them:

Obviously not happening on CF, but a post-AM outcome where Hubert ends up under indefinite house arrest at the von Aegir estate and he gradually grows to move beyond Edelgard and maybe even (very grudgingly) share what information he has on the remaining Agarthans with Dimitri and his court might turn out pretty well for them in the end. Ferdinand just has to regularly sate Hubert with baskets of puppies to kick and babies from which to steal candy and/or offer up his ass nightly for all manner of terrible, sexy horrors.

[lasturlontheleft]

Stephen King really thinks he Knows how to write kids but he doesn’t....his children character usually sound like adults a lot of the time. But with women it’s even worse??? He either write his women as Gorgeous And Thin Therefore Sexy or Fat Women Are Evil And Disgusting. All his chapters on Bev are cringe af.

Ok...... huge mood. And I think Stephen King is a smart/competent dude sometimes so it really blows my mind to see such textbook misogyny in his books. Like why do all the men get to age weirdly and realistically and Bill literally gets to gain weight and go bald, but Bev has to remain outlandishly beautiful. As well as Audra. Also the constant weird, random mentions of their boobs? Ok Stephen. And then yeah, the literally abusive women are Very Large and just. Yoinks.

And with the kids, it’s a lot of that but also just a lot of unnecessary moments of sexual themes and I know there’s a focus on puberty he’s trying to write about but im personally just uncomfy reading it and then other times there is just. No reason for him to write the thing he has written. Lmfao.

[littlewerewolfsmutoven-blog]

The Great Grindr Incident

Explicit | 2,347 words | Accidentally sexting | archive of our own

Summary: It's late at night & Stiles wants to find somebody on Grindr to jerk off with. Unbeknownst to him, Stiles accidentally finds himself sexting with Derek.

The Grindr community in Beacon Hills was one of the most dismally disappointing things that Stiles had ever had the misfortune of involving himself with. It was practically dead air for the majority of the time, with an occasional appearance from an out-of-town hottie. But even that was a rarity.

And yet, despite the inability to actually receive any pleasure from being on Grindr, Stiles consistently decided against actually deleting the app. It wasn’t really much…but it was something. And considering the fact that he was apparently plagued with being perpetually single, Grindr was something to fall back on during lonely nights of horny boredom.

Stiles tossed around underneath the heat of his blankets, tirelessly attempting to grab some sleep. But despite the fact that Stiles had just spent the last several hours cramming for a psychology exam, his hard cock definitely didn’t appear to understand that bed-time meant bed-time….regardless, Stiles knew that he wasn’t going to catch any “Z’s” until he blew a load or two.

Porn was the go-to kind of deal, but the bright orange Grindr logo caught Stiles’ attention when he unlocked his phone. Sure, the locals were boring as hell…they were all cases of ‘been there, done that’. But trading pictures and jerking off with some random dude on Grindr was so much quicker than searching for a good porno to beat off to —there was no buffering, not fast-forwarding, it was right to the point.

Stiles opened the app and casually thumbed through at his phone’s screen to scroll through the grid of horny randoms. As expected, everything looked to be exactly the way Stiles had left it several months ago. Same old, same old. But just as Stiles was about to ditch the hookup apps and seek out some good porn, his attention snagged on a new profile under the username: ‘Fangbanger35′.

Not surprisingly, the hot newbie followed the unspoken rule of Grindr—advertise with anything except your face. Assets sell faster….and Stiles was pretty much sold. The stranger’s profile picture wasn’t a face-pic, although it did share a glimpse of a sharp and stubble-covered jawline. Not to mention a tanned broad chest, buff biceps, and ripped abs—framed seductively with black, leather suspender straps.

Fangbanger35 was the whole package….and oddly familiar.

There was something inherently familiar about the Grindr newbie that Stiles couldn’t really put his finger on. The jawline was particularly catching. He could have swore that he had seen this person around somewhere in Beacon Hills? A fellow undergrad at Beacon Hills University, perhaps? A professor? Maybe a stranger from the supermarket? Or somebody else that Stiles had crossed paths with?

Stiles chewed on his bottom lip and read through the stranger’s stats. So…he was 6 feet tall, 205 pounds of pure muscle by the looks of his profile pic, and a top. Good…good. Stiles almost drooled, scrolling downward to check out the written information section of the profile whilst hoping that Mr. Fangbanger35 wasn’t some sort of arrogant asshole dude who thought way too highly of himself.

But all the profile description read was: “I bite.”

The aching hardness under Stiles’ covers was an unmistakable indicator that it was time to actually make a move or just retire to some lame pornos. So Stiles opened up the messages and typed out something quick, yet notable. Direct, yet not too overbearing. Enticing, yet not extremely gross and potentially off-putting….it was the best that Stiles could do….

Plaiddandy: “Hi, wanna trade pics and jerk off together?”

Stiles cringed, tossing his phone onto his covers and scraping his hands down his face in embarrassed agony. What. The fuck. Was that? That wasn’t sexy. It wasn’t interesting. It definitely wasn’t enticing. For fucks sake. Mr. Fangbanger35 over there was probably some sort of sex god, as far as his looks were concerned. He could probably get it anywhere, anytime. Why would he concern himself with responding to such a lame introductory preposition?

To Stiles’ surprise, his phone chimed with a response from the newbie stud. Stiles was somewhat scared to see what outlandishly rude comment was tossed back in his face. He picked up his phone with one hand and held his other hand across his face —only allowing himself to peer at the phone’s screen through the allotted space between his spread fingers.

Fangbanger35: “You don’t have a face pic.”

Stiles squinted in confusion, sitting up in his bed—readying himself to shoot back a response.

Plaiddandy: “You don’t have one posted either.”

Like, sure…Stiles didn’t have a face-pic posted on his profile. It wasn’t like he was ashamed or anything. He wasn’t. And he definitely wasn’t in the closet. But Beacon Hills was a hub for inescapable creepiness — in more ways than one. So back when Stiles had downloaded Grindr for the first time, he had elected to just hide his face until he could establish some sort of bearings with whoever he decided to sext with in the late hours of horniness.

Fangbanger35: “That’s fine. It’ll be more fun if we keep up the anonymity.”

Fangbanger35: “I’ll start. You follow.”

It didn’t take long before the first picture was delivered. Stiles eagerly opened up the picture to see what kind of sexting standard had been set, just to get an overall feel for the pacing of the late-night game. But apparently, Mister Fangbanger liked to start things off slow and relatively safe, compared to the other kinds of guys to be found on Grindr. It was practically prudish.

The first picture was just the beefcake stranger sitting in what looked to be a desk chair, in a reasonably lit room, with his face out of frame —of course. The only thing that Stiles could see was the way that the man’s large hand was pulling up the hem of a black v-neck shirt, high enough to teasingly display the chiseled abs underneath.

Stiles stared in awe for a moment. He had originally intended for the whole Grindr deal to be lewd and dirty and blatantly rushed….but there was something so inherently enticing and arousing about his new sexting partner that Stiles was down to take things slow, even though his body was practically starving for quick and cheap stimulation.

To return the favor, Stiles straightened up his posture and snapped a picture —mimicking the same position that was presented in the picture that was delivered to him. And whilst Stiles didn’t have the same kind of “muscle magazine abs” or big tough, beefy pectorals….he had what he had…and what he had was more than enough to drive people crazy with lust.

Stiles upped the ante by showing more than just his abs and treasure trail. He pulled his shirt up and over his head, snapping a picture of his bare chest with his free hand stretched obscenely across one of his pecs, fingers pinching just slightly at one of his pink nipples. With the flash on, his fair skin shined bright amidst the darkness of his bedroom that appeared to surround his body.

Plaiddandy: “I’m sensitive here.”

Plaiddandy: “I’ve considered getting one of them pierced to up the sensitivity.”

Fangbanger35: “You shouldn’t.”

Fangbanger35: “They look hot the way they are right now.”

Fangbanger35: “I like what I see.”

Fangbanger35: “Can you tell?”

The next picture Stiles received was one of his sext-buddy’s crotch, with an unmistakable bulge pressed down sideways and completely erect under the stretchy fabric of grey sweatpants. The sight alone was enough to knock the wind out of Stiles’ body, leaving him desperate to catch his breath and recollect himself in time to respond in a responsible manner.

Plaiddandy: “Holy shit, bro.”

Plaiddandy: “Do you have to wear sweatpants 24/7? Cause I don’t see how you can manage fitting that into normal things like jeans and shit.”

Fangbanger35: “I manage.”

Stiles hurriedly shucked off his blankets and hooked the elastic waistband of his plaid boxers underneath his balls, letting his flushed cock spear up towards the ceiling of his bedroom. He snapped a handful of pictures with his phone, making sure he varied up the angle with each click, making sure to highlight the beaded drops of pre-cum at his cockhead and the strong girth of his shaft, before sending forth the plethora of pictures.

Plaiddandy: “This is all because of you, dude.”

Plaiddandy: “I could bust right now. I fucking swear.”

Fangbanger35: “Ha.”

Fangbanger35: “I like the eagerness.”

Fangbanger35: “Don’t cum yet, tho.”

Fangbanger responded with a few dick picks of his own, with the caption “It’s only fair you get to see me”. And Stiles was lost….actually gone. Completely fried….full-on short circuit…blue screen of death. Fangbanger was a god, or some kind of hot sex demon. Either way, it didn’t really matter, because Stiles was fucking sure of it.

The dick pics were beautiful and vivid enough to elicit an involuntarily submissive response from Stiles. His mouth dropped open almost immediately upon seeing the pictures. The hot newbie Grindr stud was hung like a stallion. It had to be at least ten inches, possibly even bigger, but Stiles didn’t even know how to actually comprehend a living, breathing human being packing that kind of jaw-shattering damage.

At least…not in real life…maybe in porn.

Plaiddandy: “Fuck.”

Fangbanger35: “I bet you have a nice ass.”

Fangbanger35: “Wanna show it off for me?”

Stiles shuffled around atop his bed, stripping off his boxers. He brainstormed for a moment to figure out how he wanted to showcase his other assets, before deciding on a few choice positions that were sure to spin his sext-recipient’s head around and around in lustful bliss.

In one shot, he propped his camera up against the headboard of his bed and set it on a timer, before spinning around and angling the plumpness of his ass towards the lens. In another shot, he stood up for it—letting the camera capture a full body picture that he cleverly cropped to hide his face. And for the third picture, he kept it full body, but made a show of bending forward completely so that the picture ended up being a full display of his round ass, toned legs, and flexible nature.

Plaiddandy: “I think these might work for you.”

Fangbanger35: “I think you’d be able to take a few inches into that tight ass of yours.”

Fangbanger35: “You’d have work cut out for you.”

Plaiddandy: “I’m pretty receptive.”

Plaiddandy: “I play nice with strangers.”

The sexting continued for another large portion of time —stretching well past forty-five minutes. It was filled to the brim with plenty of dirty talk and tons more picture swapping. Nothing halted and nothing slowed, the Grindr session just grew dirtier and dirtier—so much so that Stiles could actually feel his poor phone overheating into the palm of his hand.

But eventually…too much was too much. Stiles really, really needed to cum. He had been patient and he had held himself back, edging himself near the point of no return, only to pull himself back on account of how reluctant he was to be the first one to cum. It had become somewhat of a challenge regarding endurance and brainpower…and unfortunately for Stiles, he was no match for his sext-partner.

Stiles messily scrambled to set up his phone on video-recording mode just as he started to flood the lean ridges of his abs with pearly white heat. He started the video just in time to catch the biggest spurt of cum, which flew past his camera and splattered stickily against his upturned nose and upper lip. As he continued to stroke himself rapidly with one hand and record his orgasm with his other, Stiles breathed heavily and tirelessly—lapping up the residual cum that began to drool into his mouth.

Once he finished, he rest back against his pillows and allowed himself to catch a solid breath, before sending the video forward into Fangbanger35′s direction. And then he waited for a couple minutes, growing increasingly worried as the minutes passed that his lewd partner wouldn’t return the favor….but then a video clip got sent his way and Stiles opened it up with quick desperation.

The video was unbelievably hot —powerful enough to shoot a shit ton of reinvigorated interest into Stiles’ already spent cock. He watched with bated breath and wide eyes as the camera beamed down from above where Fangbanger fucked his massive length into the firm grip of his own sloppy hand. Stiles watched and helplessly moaned out as he watched Fangbanger’s hips stop thrusting and his cock throb out pump after pump after pump of thick cum, that all splattered down messily onto what seemed to be a cement floor.

But just as Stiles expected the video to cut off, it didn’t. It continued for a few more seconds —picking up Fangbanger’s heavy breathing as he came down from his orgasmic high, which was hot in its own right. But then the camera jolted around in a blur, rising up to focus on Fangbanger35′s face….and…..

No fucking way. No fucking way in hell. This wasn’t real. No way…..no way.

Stiles was mortified to see Derek Hale’s face pop up into the camera’s focus —all flushed and sweaty. He watched and listened to Derek’s exhausted voice croak out breathless swears and satisfied chuckles. He watched Derek smile….like, legitimately smile —a tilted grin, all tired and worn out and totally sexed out of his mind.

Things clicked into place. The familiar jaw-line? It was Derek’s. The pumped up muscles? Those were Derek’s. The username; ‘Fangbanger35′? Of - fucking - course. Derek was a thirty-five year old werewolf. Of course….of course. How did Stiles not see that? How did he not know? How did he allow this to happen? How was he supposed to face Derek again during pack meetings?

“That was….fucking amazing.” Derek breathed, bringing Stiles’ attention back to the video clip. “My name’s Derek, by the way….what’s yours?”

[minstrivia]

intro; love on mephedrone

or, just lost drugged up teens fucking.

pairing ↠ min yoongi x reader

genre ↠ fluff, very very soft smut that’s actually kinda filthy, and a dash of angst

warning ↠ creampie, cockwarming, drug use (but please don’t do drugs), kitten!kink, riding, unprotected sex

word count ↠ 2.501

a/n ↠ a little prelude to ywto (or just me being a little shit)

「」

It's a pleasant sort of patter the rain makes, sideswiping the framed sheet of glass before veering down to the alabaster marble sill and threatening to bleed through the vinyl jamb-liners, skinny decrepit branches of the nearby timber tree scuffing across the lunette window gaudily and confusing Yoongi's whereabouts. He isn't at home— he can guess that much— there isn't a tree for miles where he and the boys live, so he can't possibly be at home. But he hears them. At least, he thinks he does.

Yoongi can't actually see the rain or the boys, but he's imagining it— them, coining a paradisiacal imagery of its jarring beauty amongst the monotone buzzing that hums in its background; an amiable lull that keeps everything still— too still. Muted pleading murmurs from, Jungkook? Taehyung? Hoseok?, if it's really raining, then it's definitely one of them, attempting to persuade Namjoon into allowing them to feed their childlike minds and play in the midst of the rain. And if Yoongi goes by the bantam defeated sigh he hears next, he knows Jin's sided with them and Namjoon's been forced into compliance. Like always.

"Yoongi?"

He can vaguely remember a time somewhat similar to this, not that he'd paid much attention to the rain then but he remembers where he was, where they were; cramped up in the small boxy apartment he'd called home once upon a time, settled comfortably on the carpeted flooring next to the jaded mattress, with his back rested up against the wall. Y/N so rightfully in his lap, velvety legs anchored around his slender waist, ankles crossed over the other whilst his cock stayed buried deep inside her, hardened length perfectly accustomed to her snug feel, her feverish warmth and the sweet slickness of her juices. He'd been reluctant to let her go, fingers planing the smooth skin of her ass, tips pressing into the zaftig flesh as he kept her still.

"Yeah?"

"M'hot," she mumbles, her fingers desperately gripping and raking through the snowy white roots of his hair as she sags forward, burying her face into the crook of his shoulder with an all too needy whine. "It's too hot. Want to move, so bad."

Y/N can't begin to understand why he's doing this— why he's keeping her wanting and waiting. There are tears pricking at the innermost corners of her eyes as the intensity of the situation lapses through her in waves. "Need you to fuck me now, Yoongi— please."

Yoongi chuckles, running his palms down the lengths of her spine before jamming his fingers into the tops of her thigh potently. "Just wait."

It'd been warm, almost too warm, fireside burning a fervid heat in contrast to the bitter feel of outside, seeping through their naked skins and glossing a sheen of sweat in its wake. Her eyes barely escaping from their half-lidded lull and he expected it's what he must've looked like then too, complete with laden eyes, a slothful smirk and an obvious lag in his actions, both obliviously high on the pills he'd sought his peace of mind with.

"I'll fuck you soon," he promises, pressing his lips to the top of her head and breathing in her fresh honeyed scent, the feel of her breasts flat against him eliciting a small relieved sigh from the grasp of his lips. "Just need you like this for a bit longer— just a bit."

Yoongi admits it had become a part of his routine he couldn't— didn't want to— shake, having his cock lodged deep inside the warmness of her cunt, her walls tight up against him, fitting so perfectly like only she can. He'd loved it. He'd loved— loves her.

Y/N pulls back from him slightly, moving to rest her forehead gently on his, noses skimming barely and warm breathes tangling together in shared breath. "Can't understand why you like this," she mumbles, attempting to buck her hips expeditiously but he halts her movements before they even begin and she huffs. "It's boring."

He grins, nudging her head back with his forehead before grazing his teeth teasingly along her jaw. "Got me an impatient little kitten, haven't I?" He muses, sinking his teeth into her skin, almost painfully so, if it weren't for the fact that her pain threshold had been dubbed sufficiently. "Should make you wait longer for every time you complain, you wouldn't like that would you? Turn you into a proper whiny brat for me."

He presses his fingers firmly into the lower scapes of her jaw, tilting her head back so that he leers over her. "Open your mouth," he mutters, thumb lining the ridge of her bottom lip softly, forcing her lips to fall apart for him naturally. "Nice and wide."

Y/N's beautiful, her lashes flutter over the apples of her flushed cheeks instantly, mouth parted wide with strands of hair obstructing her features ever so slightly. But it doesn't deter him, only turns him on more and urges his actions. He sucks at his tongue, warranting his saliva to collect in his mouth before leisurely letting it seep past his lips and into her mouth. It fuses with her tongue briefly, slipping past the expanse and down her throat. It's erotic, filthy and yet he tastes so sweet, like strawberries, opiates and terrible decisions.

"There kitten," he asserts. "You can ride me if you want now."

He'd loved when she rode him. She never complained once, even when she was tired she'd do it. She'd waste no time in swinging her legs either side of him, and getting a rhythm going. He'd taken advantage of it— told her to ride him more times than he can remember. But only because she'd been so good at it. He swears.

Y/N sways her hips against him, nails channelled into the pasty surface of the skin at his nape with clammy thighs chafing against his own. A slow deliberate dally in her actions, grinding down on him in such a way one would slosh water in a bath, unhurriedly and tenderly; completely disorientated in the red-hot euphoria that flows through her veins and quells in her brain. She's never felt this high, never felt this good— or this full. He's pressing up against her, every inch of his thick cock stretching at her delicate walls, throbbing bated pulsations that stirs madness at the bottom of her belly.

"So deep," she whimpers quietly, a prominent tremble in her bottom lip when he bottoms out in her yet again, the head of his cock tickling at her cervix all too momentarily and it's everything she wants and some. "Love it like this. Love it deep."

Yoongi groans gutturally, chest heaving as if he's the one putting in all the work when really he's just watching her do it. Watching his girl get off all by herself, hearing the way her words loosen, tongue wrapping around the crude words as if it's nothing. But he knows it's not, he knows if she were at all clear-headed, she'd be ducking her head, flushed with embarrassment and it'd take him a long time to coax her out of it. But not tonight. Tonight she has no qualms and he loves it.

"Yeah, kitten?" His thumb scapes over her cheeks, outlining the shape of her lips perfectly and dragging her bottom lip down as he drops the digit. "You're so fucking sexy," he declares, a stately smirk laded on his mouth as he tilts forward, mouth to her ear when he speaks. "Tell me more. Tell me what else you like kitten and I might just fill you up properly, might just come inside your pretty little cunt instead of messing up your face."

"Fuck," she hisses. His words are always so blatant, so outlandishly provocative that it catches her off guard every single time without fail, pausing at her breath and quickening its beat. "Love when you call me kitten for one."

Yoongi scoffs. "Know you do," he boasts, shrugging his shoulders as if it were a thing of old news. "Turns you into a proper obedient pet for me. But you gotta do better than that— might not let you come either if you don't."

Yoongi knows she's close, her legs quiver beneath her as she bounces avidly, the sound of their skin slapping together only getting louder and louder every time she comes down. So he knows he'll be putting her through torture if he doesn't allow her release soon enough. But he'll hold out. He'll wait until he's heard what he wants.

"You don't want that, do you?" He muses. "Don't want to not be able to cream all over my cock like the dirty little kitten you are, right?"

Y/N shakes her head quickly, lips dropping into a desperate pout as she tries to appeal to him. "No. No. Always feels better with your cock," she admits, voice nothing but a breathy moan as the feeling of his cock everywhere takes over. "Tried— fuck. Tried to finger myself the other day, tried to pretend it was your cock but it didn't work."

"Christ, when was this?"

"Erm, a while ago." Y/N falters for a second, the pressure of her upcoming orgasm making everything all too sensitive and Yoongi notices it, clasping his palms around her hips and moving her forcefully. She knows she can't come though, knows she'll be in trouble if she does. So she tries to distract herself woefully. "When you went to that studio you said you liked for a week— God I— I really missed you. Wanted you to fuck me so bad and you weren't there."

Yoongi curses, holding onto her just that bit tighter as he clenches his eyes shut, steadying himself. He feels like he's floating and he feels like he could really blow his load early if he's not careful, especially with the way Y/N's talking. And when he opens his eyes again, she's staring straight at him, eyes widened marginally and a pleading ask glimmering in the depths of her orbs. She's doing all she can to hold on, teeth gritted together, nose scrunched and her brows furrowed. She's holding out just for him.

He runs his palms up her sides, smoothing over the bumps of her breasts and capturing her face between them. He pulls her closer, intertwined with not even a sliver of space separating them, heartbeats in tandem, captured in the faultless mix of love and lust as one and he kisses her. A teasing brush of the lips at first, before really delving into her, kissing her like she's the air he needs to come down to earth, tongues massaging over the other with strong familiarity. He grins, lips never leaving the touch of hers. "Come kitten," he soothes. "Come all over my cock like the good girl you are. Like I know you want to."

"Fuck!" Y/N releases a whine that mutes against his lips, her head thrown back and he follows her, keeping them locked together. She shakes against him, body gone spasmodic against her will, the exhilaration of her release tumbling down her and buzzing in the air around her. She's never come like this, never really really felt it shatter at her bones like it does, frazzling and intoxicating her mind with all thoughts Yoongi. "God," she breathes. "Love you. I love you so much Yoongi, you can't ever leave me. Need you— need your cock forever and ever."

Yoongi sniggers, rocking up into her and tiding her through her orgasm slowly. "Sure it's not just the pills talking."

"It's not. Promise," she insists. "Really do love you a lot."

"Love you too kitten. You tired?" Yoongi wants to come, specifically, he wants to come inside her— he really does. But if she's tired, then he won't hesitate to tuck her in bed. He can easily just jerk off himself, not that he really wants to. But he will. For her.

"A bit," she confesses, locking her arms around her neck hastily when she feels him ready to lift her off him. "Not that much though," she rushes out. "Want you to fill me up properly first, want to feel it leaking out of my cunt. Please."

"Fuck, you're beautiful." Yoongi doesn't waste his time in ensuring he's got a good grip on her hips, sinking his back further down the wall and driving up into her hard. "So so beautiful." He's not holding back at all, not when she'd practically begged him, fast-paced steady thrusts set to ram directly at her cervix, impaling through the sensitivity of her walls. "All mine aren't you? All fucking mine."

"Yes! All yours," she says. And she means it, she's his. Her heart, body and soul, all his for the taking, all his to enjoy whenever he wants and she'll never have it any other way.

Yoongi grunts, twisting their bodies and pushing her back onto the mattress so he hovers over her, cock still firmly inside her as he drives into her at a new angle. An angle that allows him to double over on top of her, resting his head 'midst the slope of her neck as he brandishes her, sucking and biting his mark on the surface.

"God, you have such a greedy cunt," he says, hand massaging a thigh hooked around his hip. "Clenching on me like a fucking virgin would, so tight, so fucking tight."

"Fuck Yoongi— feels so fucking good."

"Shit."

He pounds into her vehemently, her cunt sucking him up with lewd slurps every time. She's so accustomed to him. How can he ever let her go when she fits him so perfectly. How can he ever let her go, when her jaw slackens the way it so celestially does, with an inaudible straggling scream as he jars inside her, slamming back into her forcefully— deliberately. How can he ever let her go when she takes him all so naturally, her walls milking his cock for all he's got, strings of his cum filling her up so deep and so full. How can he let go, someone, he knows he loves more than himself.

But he did. Yoongi had let her go. The rains gentle patter strengthens to a cascading clatter, pelts of water threatening at the mechanics of the window and rendering him the memory. The memory of the day Yoongi had brushed the tears that had fallen down the cheeks that used to beam at him, promising her he'd be back, promising her that he'd always come back— for her. And he swears by the fact that once his eyes can see past the imagery he's created, he'll fulfil that promise, in hopes that it's not already too late, he'll find her again, he'll hold her close, moulding her skin to his and make his heart beat the same way it did all those years ago.

[ceeainthereforthat]

Rating:

Explicit

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories:

F/M

M/M

Multi

Fandom:

The Magicians (TV)

Relationships:

Quentin Coldwater/Eliot Waugh

Margo Hanson/Eliot Waugh

Quentin Coldwater/Margo Hanson/Eliot Waugh

Characters:

Quentin Coldwater

Eliot Waugh

Margo Hanson

Alice Quinn

Additional Tags:

marqueliot

Threesome - F/M/M

Sex Magic Shenanigans

Porn with Feelings

Oral Sex

Cunnilingus

Vaginal Fingering

Sense Sharing

it's a pagan ritual

that is also an orgy

disco never died

outlandishly sexy outfits

Eliot POV

Feelings

Facial Shaving

"You can't bring homework to Ibiza," Eliot says, and Quentin looks a little embarrassed.

He shrugs. So damn cute. "I thought I'd do it on the ferry. You said there was a three hour trip from the portal to the island?"

Alice looks up. "Not that I've been there but I thought there was a portal directly to the island?"

"If you're attuned," Eliot says. "If you're bringing a tribute, it's the ferry for you."

"Right, so I just thought—"

"Sweetheart, it's a luxury charter. The Star of Bacchus has three hot tubs, two cocktail bars, an outdoor discotheque, and a communal playroom. They'll dump your homework into the sea."

[tipsytaee]

NCT 127 – “Neo City: The Origin” in San Jose (Fan Account - 190509)

Left work at 5:40pm, arrived in San Jose at 7:10, bought chicken nuggets from McDonald’s, and entered the concert hall at 7:50.

Hall feels kind of like a high school auditorium. Was expecting something a little more memorable.

I was kind of nervous and wondering if the $160 would be worth it, but I was excited about it too. Texted BFR and MKT a quick photo and both replied with excitement for me.

Concert begins.

(Cherry Bomb) Took me a little bit to get energized, but the smooth glide, backward fall, and leg split were everything.

NCT lightsticks are bright af. Every time the girl next to me waved hers to my side, I think I went just a little bit more blind lol.

(Chain) Taeyong’s absss. I was trying to fix something on my phone and, BAM! Front and center on the big screen. That shit came out of nowhere >.<

Didn’t have a lightstick this time, so I was just kinda awkwardly standing there. People around me must’ve thought I was the quietest kpop fan ever. But in my head I was hyped xD

(Ment #1) Taeyong really knows how to pump up a crowd—from his stretched out “Ohhh yeahhhh” that reclined into a sexy, throat-deep groan to his vocalized sports tournament siren after introducing his name. And his little fumble when trying to say “lifetime memories” was cute.

(Fly Away with Me) Ugh, this song put me in a mood. And Taeyong’s bouncing dance moves. He does them really nice.

(Back 2 U) Yuta’s vocals o.o And Taeyong’s soft swag throughout.

Not as many Taeyong stans as I thought, but definitely one behind me. I relate to her every time she screams for him when he does something remotely sexy and the crowd is quiet in obliviousness xD

(City 127) Slower song and Taeyong’s still not able to sit still. He was the only one who stood up and danced around for his part, and he continued to wiggle around in his chair after that xD :3

(Angel) So. Much. Skinship. Taeyong scooting his chair over to Jaehyun and being all squishy, touchy, and adorable with him. More with Yuta & Doyoung, and Jungwoo & Haechan. The line, “I’ll be your morning star” gave me all the feels. I eventually found myself swaying along.

(Jet Lag + more) Yuta’s slow, emotional hair flip and his unrelenting cuteness. If Taeyong doesn’t do it first, this kid might just kill me >.<

(Ment #2) Yuta being cute af and possibly throwing some random Japanese in there? xD

(No Longer) Definitely falling for Taeil’s voice.

So many Taeil, Haechan and Jaehyun stans.

(Regular) Taeyong’s sex faces live are killing me.

(Wake Up) The bars have come out. Hyped by Taeyong’s “Are you ready San Jose!” and subsequent ‘yeah’s and ‘whoo’s and arm pumping dance.

(Baby Don’t Like It) Taeyong literally coming in like a pimp on top of the bars. Sunglasses, posture, attitude, and all lmao.

(Mad City) The vibrations man, the fucking building was shaking.

(Good Thing) Taeyong’s outlandishly flamboyant paint-splatter suit, wtf xD Also his moonwalk is so fucking smooth. Yuta is adorably bouncy in his cute yellow sweater.

Seeing Taeyong’s sex faces in person is ridiculous (part 2).

…is Yuta my bias wrecker?

Chipmunk voices on the mic… (Started with Mark’s mic during Mad City and continued randomly throughout)

Changing lightstick colors with the music. Didn’t expect that to happen here. For some reason I thought it was only a Korea/Japan thing lol.

(Superhuman) The superior song. Always fall for that head snap in the beginning.

I was watching Taeyong for most of the concert, but I swear I saw Taemin’s face flash by for like half a second. I think the desperation to see Taemin live is getting too strong xD

(Ment #4) I fucking looked up and Taeyong had taken half of his sparkly jacket off during the ment. Guns fully loaded. Biceps at the ready. But my poor heart wasn’t >.< Haechan speaking Korean for the first time during the concert kind of made it more real that I was watching Korean idols who had traveled halfway across the world to perform in front of me. Taeyong and his backwards visor and casual black clothes is fucking hot. Taeil getting embarrassed when Johnny told him to growl and flex his muscles one more time, adorable :3 Taeyong did clapping push-ups, aegyo-ed, and fucking dabbed in the span of 20 seconds >.< Jaehyun asking if we’re ready to “get hot.” Boy, I’ve been steaming for an hour now (both literally and figuratively lol. Couldn’t find the time to take off my coat xD)

(Summer 127) The resonance and vibrations from the bass line had me shaking (in a good way). Taeyong’s front group seemed a little lost in the music when they finally went back into choreography—they kept looking at each other like “uh…” and wiggled their arms around aimlessly until it matched everyone else lol. Taeyong went HARD during this song. His panting had me thrown, and he rapped so hard his fucking vein popped out.

(Ment #5) Doyoung’s adorably cheesy fortune cookie story. Fortune cookie read, “You will touch the hearts of many.” Generic but absolutely true ^^ Taeyong’s pouty face before his ending speech. And he put his hands together, almost in prayer, when thanking his fans. It was so heartfelt and sweet.

(Pre-0 Mile) Taeyong’s switch from his soft voice when correcting the crowd’s move for “mine mine” to his deep, loud, crowd-pumping voice at the final “girl you’re just mine mine!” I love his duality. And the way he turned around to walk to the back of the stage for 0 Mile. Hot.

(0 Mile) Taeyong being a mom and picking up Doyoung after he fell to the ground trying to protect his abs xD He’s such a sweetheart <3

For the last three-ish songs, Taeyong was super energetic and hyped for the performances. It got me hyped too.

Their “San Jose is a real vibe-killer~~” xD

Someone threw a rose at Taeyong when they were walking from the left side audience to thank the right side, and he got adorably flustered. He fumbled with the rose a little bit, but he did manage to catch it.

Taeyong picked up the rose he had put down earlier to hold his members’ hands and bow. He was being such a tease with it, putting it sexily in his mouth, tango style, and turning around and pausing every two steps to pose with it. He also put on an adorable “San Jose” beauty pageant sash before posing with the rose and heading off stage. He was the last member to leave and he kept dorking around and teasing his fans, it was so freakin cute >.< (Side note: Found out later he was recently crowned “in charge” of their San Jose stop, which is why he had the sash.)

That ending^ was all I needed to make that whole concert worthwhile. I love you Taeyong <3

Concert ended at 10:40pm. Walked back to my car and drove home listening to nothing but NCT songs.

Post-concert thoughts: In the beginning, it felt like I was just watching another random concert. I was also hesitant about going even before that because I only really listened to about half the songs on the setlist. But I realized there’s something about concert settings that just makes everything sound amazing. The concert eventually evolved into something more meaningful and that I was super spazzy about and into (probably triggered by something Taeyong did lol), but it got so much more exciting after that and I loved it.

P.S. Taeyong’s shirt was sheer????