#i kind of want to draw every section from this fic

[a-cipher]

It’s the end of the world, and Etho isn’t there.

inspired by for the dancing and the dreaming by @oh-snapperss

[astraystayyh]

nights with hyunjin <3

little fluffy hyunjin fic inspired by the fact he sends good night msgs on bubble at the latest hours. lowercase intended.

2 am

"where do you see yourself in twenty years?" you whisper, buried under the thick white covers with Hyunjin. You can't see his face, but your nose brushes against his and his warm hand is on your back, keeping you close.

"where will you be in twenty years?" he replies instantly and you feel your cheeks heat up at his words.

"hyune, just answer the question," you whine after a few silent beats and he giggles slightly, "i am. doesn't matter where I'll be, as long as you're there."

you draw in a deep breath, suddenly feeling as if his words were keeping you at his mercy, completely unarmed. "you mean it?" you ask, grabbing onto his arm tightly.

"i do," he reassures, bopping his nose softly against yours, "you are my present and future, angel."

3 am

"what are you drawing?" you ask as you enter hyunjin's art studio, two cups of chamomile tea in your hands. you place them down and stand behind hyunjin, who leans his back onto your chest, melting into your touch. you wrap your arms around his shoulders in response, softly kissing the top of his hair. he smells like your shampoo.

"a house," he replies. his left hand wraps around your thigh, grazing up and down the exposed skin. "our house, i hope," he adds quietly and you feel your heart skip a beat.

"ours?"

"mm. wanna buy you a house. with a little garden and a view of the beach."

"i'll plant lots and lots of flowers for us there." you smile, admiring the pastel colors blending seamlessly in his painting.

"just make sure they won't die," he teases and you fake a gasp, "are you underestimating my gardening capabilities?"

hyunjin blindly grabs your arm, spinning you around so you'd sit on his lap.

"nonsense, you are my little florist," he grins cheekily and you touch his cheeks softly.

"these are cute," you tell him, referencing to his now apparent dimples. little pools for you to drown in.

"you are cuter."

"I'm still not over your flowers comment."

"I will kiss you for every flower you plant."

"that's a lot of kisses."

"i know," he smiles at you, his eyes turning into moon crescents. yours.

5 am

"can't believe she still likes him," hyunjin huffs loudly and you laugh, your hand softly threading through his hair.

"it's just a show baby."

"i know but listen," he stands up from between your legs, eyes wide looking into yours, "he just told her he doesn't find her beautiful. who says that to their lover?"

"he's stupid, she's clearly out of his league and he's threatened by that."

"right!" he claps in agreement, "she deserves better."

"she does," you giggle as he lays down again, face now buried in your chest.

"you do know i find you the most beautiful person in the world?" he whispers and your eyes soften at him.

"you tell me."

"but do you know it?"

"i do."

"good, because if you didn't then I'm a horrible boyfriend too," he shudders and you giggle at the horrified look on his face.

"you aren't, my love."

later on that night, while you are brushing your teeth, hyunjin pops his head into the bathroom. "baby," he calls out and you hum in reply.

"you are beautiful," he says and you raise an eyebrow in question at him, mouth full of toothpaste.

"just making sure you don't forget it."

4 am

"I'm getting sleepy," you say quietly. it was nearing four am and hyunjin has been playing with your hair for what felt like an eternity. braiding small sections of it, only to open them once again.

"me too."

"let's try to sleep."

"don't want to," he mumbles against your hair and you chuckle. "why?"

"if we go to sleep then it will be morning really soon which means i have to leave you."

his words make your heart clench in your chest. nights with hyunjin were your favorite parts of your existence. there was no pressure, no expectations on the both of you. you could just be two humans in love, under the kind gaze of the moon.

"okay, baby. what do you want to do?"

"i just want to look at you," he says quietly and you nod, getting away from his hold. you lay your head on your pillow and he does the same, this way you're both facing each other.

you feel yourself relax completely under hyunjin's gaze, because it's filled with love. for you. his pointer finger traces over your features, delicately, as if he was grazing a porcelain vase. and you let him. his touch is so soft it makes something warm stir within your stomach. it wasn't untamed butterflies, fluttering their wings to escape. it was something comfortable and safe, finding its home within you.

"you are so pretty," he whispers and you smile softly at his words.

"so are you." your right hand rises gently to rest on top of his cheek, and you swipe your thumb slowly across it. hyunjin's eyes flutter closed at the contact and you feel a wave of fondness flood within you.

you'd do anything to preserve this serene look on his face.

"try to sleep. I'll be here when you wake up." you finally say.

"you promise me?"

"i promise."

[httpsdana]

heyy! i feel bad for putting in a request hopefully ur not busy. just wanted to say i love ur fics sm and hope u are having a great day.

so today im like not feeling myself and upset and wanted to know if u could make a cubarsi fic with fluff.

so i have a science project and im the only one working and we have so much to do and my friends are stressing me. my parents are helping but yk when it’s too much.

so anything with Pau x reader with Pau comforting her would be amazing tysmm! 💕🫶🏽

Heartfelt Equations~Pau Cubarsi

・❥・prompt list

・❥・masterlist -> part 2

・❥・who I write for

y/n is staring at her laptop screen, eyes glazed over, feeling like she's drowning in numbers, notes, and complicated diagrams.

The clock on the wall ticks loudly, reminding her of the deadline creeping closer, and she can feel the stress building like a storm inside you.

Her group of friends was supposed to be helping, but one by one, they’d left her to handle everything alone. Her family offered what help they could, but it was clear that science projects weren’t their strong suit. She was in this alone, and it was overwhelming.

Suddenly, she heard a familiar knock at the door, followed by the gentle creak as it opens. Before she can even turn around, a pair of warm arms wrap around her shoulders from behind.

“Hey, mi pequeña científica,” Pau’s soft voice fills the room, his chin resting on top of her head. (my little scientist)

“You look like you’re about two seconds away from throwing this laptop out the window.” he joked, sensing her overwhelmed situation.

y/n let out a sigh, leaning back into his embrace. “Two seconds? I think I’m already there,” she muttered, closing her eyes to keep the frustration at bay. “This project is impossible, and none of my friends have helped at all. I’m just… I don’t even know where to start anymore.”

Pau gently spins her chair to face him, his hands resting on her shoulders as he looks down at her with a soft smile. “Let me see this mess, then. I’m here now, and I’m not leaving until we get this done together, okay?”

She looked at him, a flicker of hope sparking in her chest.

“You mean it? You don’t have to—” she started

“Of course I mean it,” he interrupts, pulling her up from the chair and guiding her to the kitchen table where all her papers are scattered. “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I let my amazing, hardworking girl drown in science notes?”

y/n let out a laugh at his words, feeling some of the tension slip away. “Alright, you asked for it. Welcome to the chaos,” she said gesturing to the mess of papers, half-finished calculations, and diagrams that don’t even make sense to her anymore.

Pau grins, sitting beside hee and picking up a stray page. “Wow, you really went all out here. Let’s see, we’ve got… a million equations and some pretty impressive doodles on the side of this page.” He points to a little sketch she'd absentmindedly drawn of a sun with sunglasses.

she blushed, reaching to snatch the paper from him, but he holds it out of reach, laughing. “No way! I’m keeping this as evidence of your creative genius. But seriously,” he says, his expression softening, “you’re incredible for even attempting this all on your own. Now, let’s break it down together, alright?”

With a deep breath, she nods and explains the project to him, pointing out all the sections that still need to be done. Pau listens carefully, nodding along, and as soon as she's finished explaining, he grabs a pencil and a fresh piece of paper.

“Alright, my love. You take care of the data, and I’ll start on the graphs. Let’s tackle this step by step.” he said, giving her an encouraging smile.

They both dive into the work, and it’s like a weight has been lifted. Pau’s presence grounds her, his little jokes making her smile as he meticulously draws out her graphs and even colors them in with highlighters he found in her pencil case. Every now and then, he looks up at her with a grin.

“You know, you’re gonna owe me a big thank-you kiss for all this coloring,” he teases, holding up a bright yellow bar he’s highlighted.

“Oh, trust me,” she laughs, “I’ll give you all the kisses you want after this.”

“Deal,” he says, his eyes twinkling as he reaches over and plants a quick kiss on her forehead.

Hours pass, and the project finally starts coming together. With one last click, y/n saves the final document, and an overwhelming sense of relief washes over her. She slumps back in her chair, exhaling deeply.

“It’s… it’s done,” she whispers, almost in disbelief.

Pau immediately pulls her into his arms, lifting her off the chair and twirling her around. “I told you we’d finish it. Look at you, mi genio. You did it” (my genius)

Giggling, she wraps her arms around his neck, clinging to him as he spins her. When he finally sets her down, they're both breathless and laughing. Pau cups her face, brushing his thumbs gently over her cheeks.

“You know, I’m really proud of you. You didn’t give up, even when it got tough,” he says softly, his gaze filled with admiration. “You’re amazing.”

A blush rises to her cheeks as she smiles up at him. “Thank you, Pau. I couldn’t have done this without you.”

“Of course you could have,” he says, pressing a gentle kiss to her nose. “But I wouldn’t have missed this for the world. Now…” He pulls you closer, wrapping his arms around her tightly. “How about we celebrate?”

y/n snuggled into his embrace, feeling the last remnants of stress melt away. “What kind of celebration did you have in mind?”

“Hmm,” he says, pretending to think, “how about ice cream? The biggest sundae we can find?”

She laughs gently, looking up at him with a grin. “You know the way to my heart.”

He chuckles, leaning down to kiss her softly. “I know, hermosa. And for the record,” he murmurs, brushing his lips across hers, “I love you. Stress and all.”

Her heart fluttered as she reaches up, winding her arms around his neck. “I love you too, my little science assistant.”

He laughs, pulling her in for another kiss, deeper and slower this time. The world feels calm and steady, and in his arms, everything feels perfectly, wonderfully right.

[wearethecyclones]

Here, have an episode coda ficlet featuring JoshEddie, EddieJosh, Jeddie, whatever the kids are calling it...

(If there are typos in here no there aren't. I need to learn how to write fast and loose and SHORT if i want to ever be a writer ever again. I so never do a tumblr fic moment idk how to format this lolol anyway this is Josh's POV, features a couple mustaches, and a suddenly flirty grocery store banter moment okay luv u bye)

Much like every Halloween shift before it, this one was a wild one. Josh had made it through the shift okay, but when he clocks out it takes a little longer than most days to shake it off. Something about it clings to him. When he gets to his car, he just wants to text someone from the 118 to see how Hen’s son is doing but he doesn’t think he can take bad news either. 

He’d love to just go home and draw the black out curtains and crash for the day, but a scheduled reminder pops up on his phone telling him to grab a few things at the store. He’d rather not be faced with the lack of those things on the other side of a day spent sleeping, so with a heavy sigh he turns his car on and sets his sights on the closest Ralph’s.

Discounted Halloween candy in a mess of boxes greets him at the entrance of the store. Josh grabs a couple bags, thinking of the candy jar on his desk. He takes his time in the produce section, finding some sort of comfort in how empty the store is while employees bustle around stocking shelves. 

He rounds an end cap overflowing with tortillas of every size imaginable and is shocked back to reality when his cart clangs sharply against someone else’s.

“God, I’m so sorry,” Josh rushes to say, looking up at the other cart’s owner. And of course he had to run into the hottest guy in the whole store. Brown eyes, prince charming hair swoop, a mustache, and… oh fuck, that’s Eddie Diaz. “I uh… was lost in my own world,” he finishes lamely, a confusing mix of attraction and annoyance swirling in him.

“Thought that was you,” Eddie says, neutral enough. His eyes flick down to Josh’s mouth and back up to his eyes. “Hey.”

“Eddie. Hi, sorry.”

“No worries.” He glances down at Josh’s mouth again and Josh’s skin crawls, not unpleasantly. Josh feels self-conscious, like he always does around Eddie. He fights the instinct to let his shoulders curve inward to protect his soft underbelly. He almost wants to overcorrect by snapping to perfect posture instead, but he fights that urge too. Act natural. 

“Getting off shift?” Eddie asks. “Heard you on the radio last night.” Neutral, neutral, neutral. 

“Yeah. Crazy night, right?”

Eddie nods. “They took us out of rotation for a little after, well…” Eddie waves his hand in front of him as a loose identifier. Josh understands. 

“I can imagine. Are you coming from the hospital?” Josh asks. 

“Yeah,” he says, scratching at the stubble along his jaw in way that strikes Josh as impulsive and nervous. 

Josh takes a deep breath and asks, “How’s Hen’s son doing?” 

“He’s doing great, surgery went well. He’s got a broken leg and will probably be hurting for awhile, but he’s okay.”

Josh lets out a relieved breath. “Thank God for that.”

Eddie smiles softly. “Yeah, we’re all really relieved.”

Josh nods. He finds himself running out of things to say and feels the clock on this interaction running down swiftly. But again, that mustache… For all intents and purposes, it’s kind of a basic and typical firefighter sort of mustache to have but Eddie really pulls it off. Something about it lends a bit of mature softness to his face, contrasting nicely with the rest of his face. And listen, it’s a good face. Josh has never lied to himself enough to mark Eddie as unattractive, physically. He has eyes.

“Nice mustache, by the way, suits you,” Josh says. Because why not? 

Eddie laughs a little louder than Josh finds necessary here. “Yeah, you too,” he says. 

“Huh?” Josh asks. His stubble can’t be that grown in. Is he being made fun of or something?

“The…” Eddie lifts his hand to make a reverse pinching motion at his own upper lip. “The mustache…?” he finishes when Josh continues to blankly stare at him.

Josh’s hand flies up to his upper lip, fingers coming into contact with the stupid fake mustache he’d glued on forever and a day ago. “Oh my god.” He laughs. “I forgot I was wearing this. Wow, it was such a long night.” He picks at the edge to peel it off. Eddie’s eyes track the motion, a gentle amusement settled over his features. 

“Yeah, I can’t do that with mine,” he teases. 

Josh feels disarmed. Just seconds ago he thought he was on the wrong side of a joke, now he feels on the inside of one. 

“Didn’t think so.”

“Impressed it stayed on so well,” Eddie comments. 

“Yeah, I watched a YouTube tutorial. I was sure I was going to sweat it off.”

“Ever try growing one, or is that not in your wheelhouse?” Eddie says, playful.

Josh should feel at least a little offended, but he’s  pretty sure he’s detecting a little friendly banter… “Honey, I’m Italian, I can grow facial hair.” 

Eddie holds his hands up, lips downturned in a Muppety kind of way. “Sorry, sorry.”

“Uh huh, that’s right,” Josh says on a laugh.

“And what were you supposed to be exactly?” Eddie asks, gesturing loosely at his regulation blue polo. 

“I was kinda going for Eddie Diaz if he had only ever had a desk job,” Josh says, and he’s sure the small note of flirtation in his tone could be heard by anyone in a ten mile radius. 

Not sure where that came from…

Eddie laughs, the unforgiving overhead lights making his eyes sparkle. “Well, you nailed it. I guess.”

“Thanks, thanks, I tried really hard.” He holds up his balled fist and flourishes his fingers open and closed to reveal and conceal the fake mustache a couple times before shoving it into his pocket. 

“No, but really, what were you supposed to be?” 

Josh never accused Eddie of not being thorough, at the very least. Relentless, sometimes. Snide, at his worst. It was something that used to rankle him. But now there’s an easy openness to Eddie’s face that might be earnest curiosity. 

“Well, I kinda never got around to coming up with something and I had that thing laying around from last year’s costume. So…” Josh shrugs, pairing it with a lopsided smile. “Me with a mustache?”

“And what was last year’s costume?” Eddie asks. Thorough. Bordering on relentless.

“Oh, do not make me say, you’ll make fun of me.” 

He tilts his head just slightly, a slow and mischievous smile spreading across his face. “Oh, c’mon. I’ve had the worst Halloween ever, throw me a bone?”

Josh shifts his weight from one foot to the other with an indignant sigh. A distant part of him notes Eddie’s tactic. Charming his way into what he wants. Where Josh would have been inclined to read it as fake before, he can’t seem to draw the same conclusion now. It’s a sweet smile. 

“Fine. I was one of the Village People. It was a group costume.” 

Eddie’s face lights up. “Oh, that’s great. Which one were you?”

“Construction worker,” Josh answers, feeling his cheeks heat up against his will. Why is he embarrassed? Why does he care? It was a good costume. He’d looked kinda hot. He and his then current, now ex-, boyfriend and their friends had a great time. Whatever. 

“Love that,” Eddie says, sounding like he genuinely kinda means it. 

“Yeah,” Josh says, waving his hand vaguely in the space between them. “What’s been so bad about your Halloween?” Tit for tat. 

Eddie’s face goes through a series of fast but very clear expressions that all say: are you fucking kidding me?

“Other than,” Josh interjects before he can actually say anything out loud. “That horrible call.”

Eddie huffs a forgiving laugh. “Ah, I mean, isn’t that enough?”

“Sure.” Josh lets the sentiment hang. 

Eddie looks at the products on the shelf in front of him for the first time since they’ve been in this aisle and seems to be chewing on the inside of his cheek. Josh is about to retract his question entirely when he clears his throat and says, “I uh, don’t have my kid with me anymore. He’s in El Paso with my parents and Halloween was always our thing but apparently this year he’s suddenly too old for it. And, you know, every time I respond to a call for a kid who is hurt and their parents are right there, or sometimes they aren’t, I just… I don’t know. And Denny really could’ve…” he trails off, and Josh recognizes the superstitious, nearly holy refusal to name what could’ve happened. He clears his throat again. “It was really dicey there for a second and I was watching Hen and Karen, holding Karen up… I just. Miss my boy.” He sniffs, suddenly. And shakes his head. 

Josh follows his eye line to a row of Manischewitz Gefilte Fish and his skin is crawling to break the tension, to distract, to do the thing he always does even though he really shouldn’t…

But he can’t stop himself.

“Sooo, Gefilte Fish, am I right?” he asks. 

Eddie’s eyes cut to him. Then back to the shelf in front of him. He smiles and shakes his head. “Sorry, I made it weird.”

“I’m pretty sure I made it weird, actually,” Josh says with an apologetic tone.

“Right, but I could’ve answered that differently.”

“No,” Josh disagrees. “I asked. I wanted to know. I meant that I made it weird with Gefilte Fish.”

Eddie laughs again, bright and airy. “Sure. Anyway, sorry.” He shakes tension from shoulders, and seems to be ready to excuse himself and walk away. Josh should let him. Josh doesn’t want to.

“I’m really sorry to hear that, Eddie, sounds tough.”

“Yeah, no, it’s… life, you know?” he says dismissively, with a wry twist of the mouth. 

Josh shrugs a shoulder. “And life is tough sometimes.” With nary a breath between thoughts, he plows ever onward. “I was going to get breakfast before going home, there’s a weird little diner near here that makes a great French toast. Wanna join?”

Here’s the part where Eddie and Josh are supposed to come to and remember who they are. Who they are to each other. Who they’ll remain to each other. Josh braces for rejection. Josh prepares to walk away with the satisfaction of having reached out to someone, whether or not they wanted to accept. 

Eddie’s face, which Josh has counted at least a thousand emotions and micro expressions on in this short exchange alone, does something soft. Sweet. He smiles a little. “That sounds nice, actually. Thanks.”

Josh’s heart leaps a little. “Great!” He feels the grin stretch across his face without his permission and bites his lip to contain it. Deflect, deflect, deflect. “You’re buying, you owe me for implying I’m too gay to grow a mustache.”

“UH, excuse me, I did not,” Eddie argues, waving a bossy finger at him. There’s a sparkle in his eye that tells Josh they’re playing the same game. 

“Uh huh. And I bet you know so many gay people you couldn’t poooossibly be homophobic. Prove it to me over breakfast.” 

Eddie rolls his eyes, biting down his own grin. “Sure. Fine. You done here? Let’s check out and go.” He makes a point of knocking his cart into Josh’s, cheeky bastard that he is, and heads for the front of the store. “Coming?” he asks over his shoulder. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Josh says, grinning at the back of his head. 

[eternal-silvertongued-prince]

Celebrating your birthday with Severus

Pairing: Severus Snape x Reader

Genre: Fluff with a hint of spice

Rating: Explicit under the banner

Warnings: None

Word Count: 832

A/N: I got a quick birthday request for some headcanons, and I couldn’t help but jot some ideas down. One day I’ll do a full reader’s birthday fic, so I did not go into a lot of detail, but until then, enjoy!

Masterlist

If there was one thing you could always count on, it was Severus.

General help, support, information, etc. You name it, and he’ll be there for you to the best of his ability.

So, it’s no surprise that not only does Severus remember your birthday, he’s been planning how to celebrate your day for the past month.

This, however, is contingent on if you guys are already dating. If you weren’t, then it’s a whole other story.

So, let me split this into two sections to make it easier for me LOL

If you were not dating:

If you weren’t dating, Severus would still 100% be consciously aware of the day once he finds it out.

Have you thinking “Is he suspiciously less snappy and nicer to you today?”

You have every right to be suspicious because, yes, he is totally trying to not subject you to his usual nastiness.

Unless you are friends, don’t expect a gift from him

But maybe Severus was making himself a cup of tea and decided he might as well pour you one since there’s enough water in the kettle for two

“Oh, thank you, Severus! That’s very kind of you.”

Dismisses you from saying anything more on the subject with a wave of his hand

If you were another professor, you might find that the stack of essays you had left to grade during your lunch hour was done and covered in red ink from a familiar scrawl

You receive a gift from the staff that Minerva says was from everyone, but you know that Severus had no part in it

But you don’t mind, because the small gestures that he refuses to acknowledge, were more than you could ever expect from the cold man

If you were dating:

GET READY FOR ALL THE BIRTHDAY LOVE

He hates surprises, so he would never subject you to a surprise party

But he would keep to himself what he has for you as a gift or how the two of you were celebrating. He would definitely tell you if you truly wanted to know though

To reiterate, absolutely NO surprise parties. Why would he want people shouting at you unexpectedly?

He would want to celebrate more intimately with you

“Today is your day, and thank you for letting me celebrate it with you.”

Everything he does has rhyme or reason, so you best believe he spent days, if not weeks, making sure every meticulous detail was perfect

You best believe it’s a whole-day celebration. If your birthday fell on a week/workday, he would clear a day on the weekend to ensure you get the amount of love you deserve

Puts just the same effort into your gift because he needs to ensure that his perfect person receives the perfect gift

You feel loved and cared for every day, but on this day, he has an excuse to shower you with the affection you deserve without excuse or reason other than he can because it’s your birthday.

He may be the one giving you gifts, but you’ve given him the greatest gift he could ever imagine (and that is the gift of you!)

If both of you are sexually active, get ready for it to be a very pleasurable night

The night is all about you. Whatever you want, it's yours

His tongue? “You taste sweeter than any fruit could ever”

His lips? “I want to make sure no part of you is unloved.”

His hands? “How can anything ever compare to the softness that is your skin?”

His cock? “Look at you, darling. Look at how good you look with my cock going in and out of you.”

His words? “You are absolutely breathtaking when you fall apart for me.”

His cum? “No one can give me as much pleasure as you can. Take all of me. Every inch, every drop, it’s all yours.”

He won’t stop until you are thoroughly satisfied

Really, it’s him worshipping you as he should

When it’s all done, and you’ve had your fill, he makes sure to draw a bath for you and makes sure the two of you are cleaned before bed

You’re not allowed to lift a finger, and he takes his time to clean your body, kissing it along the way to make sure he’s replacing all the kisses he’s washing away

Once the two of you are cleaned and dried, he brings you to bed and wraps his arms around you

Slip into a peaceful night’s sleep with you knowing you had such an incredible man in your life, and he knew he could love you with every fibre of his being and that love was returned.

I've been away so long, so idk if any usernames have changed or whatnot, but I tagged those I can still find. If you want to be tagged, let me know! Users in italics are the ones I can't find. Since this fic has some NSFW, I only tagged those who I know wanted to be tagged in those works. If you wish to be removed, please lmk!

All Fics Taglist:

@monster-energies @multifandomgeeks @a-queen-and-her-throne @darbylee-23

Severus Snape Taglist:

@deepperplexity @yyourlara @insomniacaesthetic @yan-senna @smilingformoney @diamondbitch116 @iobsessoverfictionalmen @loosenyourcorsetsweatheart @solacesolarium

Want to be added to my taglist?

[roopnavarro]

Spotting Misogyny in the Mad Max Fandom: A Handy Guide

What IS Misogyny

Pull up any Mad Max Facebook group, the comments section on the official Furiosa marketing posts, or the comments section on any Furiosa video on YouTube. You'll find whiners screeching things like "boohoo we can't even have Max in Mad Max BECAUSE OF WOKE." You'll see them blaming the movie's modest box office returns on the fact that the movie has an "ICKY GIRL PROTAGONIST WITH COOTIES." If you get really unlucky when seeing misogynistic content, you might even find some really gross dirty AI deepfake pics of ATJ or Charlize as Furiosa.

What is NOT Misogyny

An artist drew some characters that aren't Furiosa. AND/OR The fandom likes some male characters from Furiosa. If you feel the need to consider this misogyny, consider the following points: 1. Waffles vs. pancakes. If someone says "I love waffles!" it's absurd to read into that message and assume it carries the hidden meaning of "I hate pancakes!" If someone draws some male characters from "Furiosa: A Mad Max Saga," it's equally absurd to assume they're doing this as a malicious and misogynistic act against Furiosa. ALSO If you think "No Furiosa in this pic = misogyny," then do you think "No Big Jilly, Fang, or other POC character in fan art = racist"? I'm guessing no. Because that would be silly. And probably because you're just morally grandstanding and slinging bad-faith accusations as a way to justify your temper tantrum about not getting free content of your blorbo. ----- 2. Everyone making fan art for "Furiosa: A Mad Max Saga" is someone who saw the movie and was passionate about it, despite it being an under-marketed movie that didn't strike gold at the box office. Most of us didn't have any IRL friends that saw the movie. For those of us who followed the hype (or lack thereof) leading up to the film, there was a bunch of backlash from actual misogynists over the film just straight-up existing. (Like all those manbaby whiners on the gamergate grifter side of YouTube) . And it's not like the fandom is riding a cultural tidal wave — the people making fan art are genuinely expressing their love for the film and its universe. We're not farming internet points or drawing these "popular male characters" for some nefarious purpose. Some people just happen to attach to different characters. Does that bother you? Learn to blacklist tags. ----- 3. If you wanna go fight misogyny in the MM fandom, go over to Facebook and Reddit and get into an internet slapfight with one of the many middle-aged neckbeards screaming shit like "MAD MAX HAS GONE WOKE REEEEEEE." But nah, it's probably easier to send shitty anon asks to artists, isn't it? What do you think you're doing? Do you think you're owed an apology because someone made high-effort fan art, but without your blorbo? Do you think you're creating some kind of positive change in the world or the fandom by whinging anonymously in the ask box of an artist? ----- 4. There's plenty of content of Furiosa (the character.) Aside from there being, y'know, a whole damn movie dedicated to her, she was pretty much Tumblr's darling from 2015-2016, and remains a popular character for art and fic. Yay! That's great! Go feast on those! Every artist in this fandom is not obligated to feed you. We all have our fixations. And if you want that content so damn badly, make it yourself or pay someone to. ----- 5. Also, if you feel the need to go through someone's blog to see if they've reblogged enough Furiosa to pass your litmus test, you're being a weirdo. Stop it. Get some help. What are you, a cop? Do you think you can just pull random artists over and go through their reblogs to determine their "guilt" or "innocence," with regards to your accusations? It's as if you're a highway patrol officer checking out someone's history of traffic violations when determining whether to issue them a speeding ticket.

-----

So there you have it. TL;DR, it's some deeply terminally online clown behavior to attach moral weight to how many ATJ gifs and Furiosa drawings someone has on their blogs. Quit slinging bad-faith assumptions at fellow members of the fandom.

[burningcheese-merchant]

I have. A few things to say! First of all, thank you for writing for here (and there, but I do not have an AO3)! I’m very in much love with someone going crazy for another and *mwah* do you do it right and justice! That said, prioritize yourself! Drink water! Eat! Do not burn out, and do not feel pressured to do stuff! I hope that your spark burns for long after this fandom!

Thank you so, so much for your kind words! I know you sent multiple asks, so I'm going to try to respond to the first two in one post, if that's ok! (I'll answer the PitayaFire one separately)

Don't you know that the truest, most profound kind of love is born not beneath the soft, pale light of the full moon, not in the sound of a pair's steps as they dance the night away, not within the warmth and security of a tender embrace, but within the walls of the solitary confinement cell in the "dangerous and violent" housing section of a psych ward? LOL jk. It's really fun writing a lovesick/obsessed person for some reason. I don't have this dynamic for any of my other ships, this is the first time I've opted to explore a darker, more uncomfortable and unstable route/interpretation of a "relationship" and it's honestly been a blast lol. (I DO also ship mutual BurningCheese, but under specific conditions, AKA Burning Spice has a redemption arc and GC falls for him on her own. I just can't justify them being together if he's still evil. So long as he is, the love is one-sided)

I really am grateful for your compliments and encouragement. I've got a super big and important BurningCheese fic in the oven rn, but I do need to actually focus on real life for a bit, so it'll be some time. I'll be posting drabbles on here and a fic or two on AO3 where BS is NOT dangerously insane, just a regular asshole who's down bad lol

You can rest assured that my crazy diamond will continue shining on long after I get tired of these games about talking cookies. I always loved writing, it's my favorite hobby and it's my only way of expressing my creativity since I can't draw to save my life. I actually have a 100% original work I've been tinkering with for a loooong time, but I always wanted that story to be told in comic form, and to do that... I have to learn to draw lol. (And that's... a really big mountain to climb. I want to climb it more than anything, but I don't know if I can. Feels like I keep slipping and falling on my ass every time I try to take and retake the first step on the first rock, you know? Idk how anyone does it, honestly...) In any case, I'm truly grateful for you and everyone else who bothers to look at my work and actually thinks it's good for some reason

Did you see that gacha animation though 👀 The way BS is looking at her 👀 y'all can't tell me he ain't thirsty. Look at that twinkle in his eye. Look at that smile. He wants to tear up more than just those wings, I'm telling you 👀 Shadow Milk is a silly billy, he thinks puppet shows and gaslighting are how you flirt with people. Mystic Flour is probably just like "what. What is this. Who is this man. Why is he handsome. Why do I feel this way. Emotions are futile. Love is ephemeral. I will not stray from the path. I will trap him in my mind prison and torture him. That will fix it. He will surrender to apathy. He will return my soul jam. He will see how smart and correct I am. Cloud Haetae will sing my praises to him until he believes them. Yes. That is what will happen. Victory is mine. I am Very Normal about this." Burning Spice? Down horrendous. Down crazy. When GC is there, it's like no one else is in the room. Won't stop smiling. Only mentions the Soul Jam once, focuses on her specifically the whole rest of the time. First real thing he says to her is how much she impresses him. Throws a tantrum after their fight essentially because she didn't step on him hard enough. Down bad. Down bad. Down bad. Ain't no way he isn't. You can't change my mind

Sorry for rambling. TL;DR: Yo Socrates, it's a fucking cookie (also thank you for your support)

[juno-stuffs]

so my hand slipped and while it did it made me search every nook and cranny of the epic fandom for every single existing wlw ship i could find and made me draw three so far + my ramblings

-- circe x penelope (cirpen/cirlope) (i personally prefer 'cirlope' but that's just me :])

was gonna put this in the "technically doesn't count" section since i first saw this ship with circe the book and not epic. but then i saw an epic version of this ship on tiktok so...fuck it we ball.

i luh luh love this ship in circe (the book). in epic, it's cool. i think they'd be a good duo, romantic or not tbh. also, if you read circe the book and ship penelope and circe in that book, go to ao3 and read the circe and penelope fics. i dunno why, but the writers in that scene are like sappho reencarnates? i dunno, they're great.

(also penelope had more sexual tension with circe than telemachus did in that book fight me /not srs)

-- circe x scylla

BOO!! TOXIC YURI JUMPSCARE! /silly

not the biggest fan of toxic yuri, which is pretty much this ship, but i felt very inclined to include these two. i don't have much to say about them, though, they're just neato. (btw you'll see these two again but with a plus one.) like with circe and pen, there were fics of them on ao3, but only two. if you do want to read them, i suggest only reading one if you aren't into freaky things. because one is normal and the other is like if circe got in on the manwhore au but like worse even by the mw au standards so...yeah. not for the squeamish.

also, if you saw my other scylla doodles, i made scylla's hair more wavy since she was looking a little too much like penelope. also gave her scales n shit so. good for her.

tbh i don't like drawing characters with long black hair, especially straight long black hair since i used to have that type of hair and every time i drew a character with that hair people would go: 'oh is that you' NO. SHUT UP. NO IT'S NOT.

but it's okay because i shaved my head and now i'm bald.

-- athena x penelope (bro i don fukin kno)(penna? that's just a name)(a name that gives marker brand but whatever)(athelope sounds like/looks like someone tried to say/spell antelope and fucked up)

a little break from circe. i love my girl circe but damn bitch, don't gotta collect all of them. you in epic, not pokemon. circe is in like 90% of these (i'm not fact checking that). probably since she is the female character with the most screen time, save for athena. even so, not only is circe more appealing to the sapphic gaze, she is easy to put in a wlw setting whereas athena is difficult to put in a romantic setting period. but when athena is, it's typically with a woman, so

found this one in an odysseus x tiresias fanfic on ao3

...

anygays. yeah, they can weave together and shit. penelope would love owls imo but maybe that's just me.

also they're both kind of gray themed characters? eh, actually, i dunno, penelope just gives gray but, again, that might just be me.

if we wanna get into odyssey (which tbh i don't really wanna do since I prefer separating epic and odyssey), athena blessed penelope with sleep often, which is sweet. she also did that to odysseus but this ain't about him right now.

i have a little more but i was too lazy to take a pic of it so. i didn't.

anywompwomp, more to come. (also if you have any wlw epic ships, crackship or not, maybe one of the characters aren't even in epic, send an ask and i'll probably doodle it too :])

[nctsworld]

Your latest fic was so cute and funny. Deadass left me want to have more of it. Like, did the date go successfully? What other tricks our mischievous Gemini had up his sleeves? Seriously, short but so good.

thank you so much for reading at your earliest convenience! i won't be writing a continuation, but here's how it goes down:

reader is furious, and in retaliation, truly wants to set the bar high for the date

date activities requested: go to the movie theatre (and you tell hyuck he better be ready to buy every single snack and drink available), dinner at the most expensive restaurant in town (this shouldn't be surprising), then overpriced ice cream in the same area as the restaurant

but of course! hyuck turns it around and takes it a step up

he rents out an entire theatre to watch the movie, on top of clearing out the snack and drink section (hyuck is grateful for his friend, renjun, who is the manager of the theatre)

there's a moment when the back of your hands brush as you reach for the popcorn, but you deny your anxiety (and the obvious tension). obviously, it's only because you're the only two in this entire theatre.

afterwards, he doesn't drive you to the restaurant, but to the pier instead.

"i'm not even kidding—are you going to kill me and dump my body here?"

"i feel like if that was going to happen, you'd be doing that to me."

"then why aren't we at the restaurant?"

your brain clicks when you see it: the small cruise ship.

"you never said i couldn't bring the restaurant to you."

he isn't kidding, because he pulled strings to have one of the sous chefs from the restaurant to work tonight on his day off (you catch that his name is jaemin and that he owes hyuck a huge favour—okay, seriously? is this guy friends with everyone in town?)

and it's utterly romantic. only the two of you, besides some help and the chef.

candles light everywhere. wine and champagne, both readily available. the food is to die for.

you're warm. not from the alcohol and food. not from all the candles. not from all the smiling, laughing, and the truly, genuine good time you're having. something is blooming.

as the sun falls, especially by sea side, it becomes chillier. he offers his black bomber jacket and you accept, placing it around your shoulders.

when you finish dinner, you didn't expect to have a small cart roll up to you with several ice cream options.

"okay, i couldn't get the same brands from that store, but jaemin recommended these and they were pretty expensive."

following that, you catch yourself getting lost in his goofy smile, and after a beat, he laughs awkwardly.

"you okay? you're looking at me kind of funny."

shaking your head, you play into it. "because you do look funny."

the night ends perfectly. he drives you home, like the gentleman he is, and walks you to your door.

"i hate to say it, but i really had a good night."

"told ya."

god, that smirk.

"you're looking at me funny again," he says, but the expression on his face makes you think he knows something you don't.

you don't even compute the moment he leans in, cups your cheeks, and pulls you in for a sweet, deep kiss

the kind where it happens, you take a one-second breather, and then you dive right back into it

both of you, after making out for some time, realize you should probably stop as everyone can see.

"i'll text you later, yeah?" he says, drawing back.

you simply nod, mesmerized by him. his lips. his everything.

"for our next date, by the way," he whisper-shouts, walking backwards. "i'm calling the shots and it'll be a simple one."

"who says there'll be a second date?" you ask cheekily.

"oh yeah?" he raises an eyebrow.

you embrace for another few more minutes until a dog barks, breaking your bubble.

and hyuck ends off with a kiss on your cheek and a soft good night whispered into your ear.

[starryluminary]

A very warm welcome to my very first collab: The NoCo Sleepy-Time Collaboration! Both artists and authors alike are welcome to join and celebrate these two unbelievable dorks!

How we're workin'

If you want to participate, send me a direct message and specify if you'll be participating as an artist or an author. You're only allowed to be one or the other, for the sake of letting as many people participate as possible.

Communication is important! If you claim a spot and can't participate anymore, please let me know as soon as possible to allow the opportunity to someone else! If I don't receive a response from you in a timely manner, I will assume you've dropped out and give your spot in the collaboration to someone else.

The deadline for submissions is Wednesday January 3rd, 11:59 AST (Atlantic Standard Time.) The final collaboration would then be posted by January 5th.

General Submission Guidelines

Noah and Cody on the Sleepy-Time theme. Interpret it however you want, but keep on theme! Be as creative as you wish!

That being said, don't cross the line of indecency. I'd like to make this as inclusive as possible, so keep it pg-13! Dirtiness and gore to an absolute minimum, please.

No matter the type of submission, you can send it to me either through Tumblr's messaging system or my Discord! (starryluminary_49344)

FOR ARTISTS: The drawing must be full body and have a transparent background. Should a traditional artist need help making a transparent PNG, I am willing to help! Just make sure its a clean picture or a scan! It's preferred if you send your submission through Discord for the highest quality, but feel free to send it through Tumblr if you don't mind the slightly lower quality.

FOR AUTHORS: Keep it to a oneshot. It can be as long or as short as you'd like, just as long as it can be read in... one shot. You can even make a poem if that's more your speed! You'll have to pick a short section of the fic (preferably not over three sentences) that encompasses it to be displayed in the final collaboration. For the sake of diversity, feel free to assign it a font, as well!

You have full freedom to post your submission after it's done and submitted! Each and every entry, other than being displayed grouped, will have its own spotlight highlighting it's creator. Creators will be tagged and anything posted will be linked appropriately. If any of this discomforts you, you can always be referred to as anonymous!

That's about it! Any and everyone is welcome to join, I just ask you be kind not only to your dear host (me) but to everyone else involved. Feel free to ask questions if I didn't make things clear enough. I can't wait to work with you all! Have fun and good luck!!

ARTIST SLOTS AVAILABLE: 9/20

AUTHOR SLOTS AVAILABLE: 9/15

Closed!! Thank you all for your participation and enthusiasm for this collaboration!! <3

[eventinelysplayground]

Hunting Party

Kinktober Day 15: Predator/Prey|Degradation

Pairing: Nokto x Emma

I love the idea around this fic and I need to write more of the story around it. I actually had a different idea originally but then I was listening to this song by Meredith Brooks and I got this idea and ran. This fic follows an alternative ending for his dramatic route so spoilers if you haven't read it. Is it a bit out of character, for Nokto no it's kind of covered in his route for Emma idk I personally could see her doing this but I would understand people who didn't see it. Nokto lures Emma away from the ballroom into the night. WC approx 1911. CW: infidelity.

The last time Nokto had been in the Rhodolite ballroom was for his engagement party three years ago. An engagement he had intended to trick, deceive, beguile and mislead his way out of. Unfortunately a stubborn King, protective older brother and heart broken princess were a trap a fox couldn't escape, no matter how cunning or devious that fox was. He had known the risks though and really a wedding was better than the alternatives, or would have been.

He had hoped to see Emma afterwards back then, even though he had no idea what to say to her, but when he went to the bookstore all he got from Rio was that she wasn't there. He had to leave without a word to her, just the poor compensation of knowing his actions had at least managed to protect her. He wrote her letters for weeks but the only response he got was not from her but from Chevalier, it was one simple sentence

Do not contact Belle again.

Tonight Nokto's eyes were trained on nothing but Emma. He felt her as soon as she had entered the ballroom, she looked as beautiful as he remembered her even if she was on his twin's arm. He had wanted desperately to talk with her but just as he and his wife had greeted them Chevalier was stepping in and taking her away with him. Clearly his brother didn't want anything happening that could affect the kingdom but after three years Nokto wouldn't be denied.

Keeping his distance and appearing to be engaging in conversations with other nobles he stalked her through the ballroom. Every time he got close enough to catch the sound of her voice over the music or briefly caught her eye it made his head spin. He carefully moved about and manipulated his way through conversations until he managed to insert himself into a group she was conversing with.

He saw the way she reacted before he had even spoken and he knew she knew he was there. He joined the conversation without looking directly at her, not because he didn't want to but so that it wouldn't draw attention to them when a moment later, once he had the others laughing, he brushed his hand against hers. That subtle yet intimate movement made Emma look into his eyes for a moment and it was electric making him only want to touch her more. She pretended to be laughing at his joke and quickly excused herself, clearly wanting to escape him.

Logically he knew he shouldn't be obsessing over her. He was married now, the ring on his finger a clear reminder of that fact but it had never stopped him before and most importantly he still loved her. So he continued to move about the ballroom but this time with a new purpose, to chase her outside where he could get her alone. Every time he came within a certain distance she moved away from him and soon enough he had backed her into a tiny section of the ballroom where the only escape she could make was outside. Nokto had thought Chevalier would have put a stop to it by now but when he looked around for him he found him engaged in a conversation with some diplomat and their miscreant brother who gave him a conspiratorial smile.

One final move and the prospect of a conversation with a dreadful noble was all it took for Emma to flee the ballroom for the perceived safety of the garden. Nokto waited a few minutes before slipping out himself, following the path he knew she would most likely take. He moved as quickly as legs would carry him and soon he spotted her figure in the gazebo. He slowed and moved quietly not wanting to give her time to run from him but even after three years she could still sense him it seemed as she turned her head to look at him. He smiled at her, the first genuine smile he'd had in years.

“It's been a few years.”

“Yes, it has.”

Her voice was shaky and when he reached out and grabbed her hand he could feel it trembling in his.

“Emma.”

He kissed the back of her hand and she gasped.

“Nokto.”

Nokto brought his eyes up to meet hers as he kissed her hand again then her wrist.

“Nokto stop.”

“Hmmm is that really what you want?”

“I, why wouldn't it be?”

“Why don't you tell me?”

Nokto pulled Emma closer to him then reached out with his free hand for the chain around her neck. The chain that still held the engagement ring he'd given to her what seemed like a lifetime ago now.

“Nokto, I…”

He leaned in closer and brought his lips to hers in a hungry and forceful kiss. Her familiar scent swirled around him melding with his own as her tongue slipped past his lips twining together with his own. Their lips parted for a quick breath and he looked into her clear eyes, eyes full of sadness and confusion.

“What are you doing?”

“Isn't that obvious?”

“We can't d-”

Nokto knew what she was going to say and he didn't want to hear it so he cut her words off with another kiss that was more hungry than the last. He hadn't realized how starved for her he'd been but now that he'd tasted her lips again he wanted more, wanted to possess all of her again. He felt Emma's hands move along his chest and he thought for sure she would push him away but instead her arms wrapped around his neck. He let his hands wander along her body but as they reached her hips she pulled away from him. She stepped back then turned to run but he reached out and caught her by the wrist and she turned to look at him.

“I won't let you run away from me Emma, not this time.”

He tugged on her wrist and she stumbled forward back into his arms and his lips crashed against hers again.

“We…shouldn't…”

He knew that her desire was warring with her morality, but he also knew that it was her desire that was winning out. He wrapped a hand around her back and began loosening the top laces of her dress. He kissed down her neck as his deft fingers tugged her dress slightly downward to expose the tops of her breasts. His lips weren't far behind his fingers and when he sucked on that tender flesh she let out the sweetest moan.

Memories invaded his mind, memories of snarling at each other, of long nights reading, of passionate kisses and of an even more passionate night spent in her arms.

“I want you, Emma. I want you so much it hurts.”

His fingers caressed over her most sensitive area over the top of her dress. His early kisses had been hungry and possessive but now they were tender and he felt her cling to him as her knees went weak.

“I want you too, Nokto.”

Those whispered words were all Nokto needed to hear. He lifted her up, placing her on the top rail of the baluster. His kisses were still tender but they took on a desperate fever as he sought out her tongue with his own as he shrugged his jacket off. Emma's fingers carded through his hair before traveling down to the buttons on his shirt. He wished he could savor this moment, take his time indulging to the fullest in her but their time was cruelly short. He kept one arm securely around her as he pulled the top of her dress down further planting kisses on each new bit of skin revealed her body arched towards him.

With her breasts fully exposed he kissed and nipped his way along them as his hand hiked up her skirt and slid along her thigh until it reached that spot between her legs finding her wet and wanting as his fingers slipped beneath the fabric of her panties. He began working his finger in and out of her curving it as he reached deep inside her and she let out a stifled moan. He wanted so much to hear her unrestrained cries again and he slipped another finger into her trying to entice them out. As his fingers pumped even faster into her he took one of her nipples into his mouth and swirled his tongue around it making her hips buck.

“Stop…teasing me.”

Emma leaned forward and kissed his ear making him growl. He pulled back from her only managing to undo his pants and letting out his hard cock before she grabbed his lapels and pulled him back to her for a kiss. With one arm wrapped around her to support her he guided himself into herbin one quick motion and she cried out into their kiss.

Nokto had said once he felt he could lose himself if they did this and he had. He was lost in the taste of her lips, the sound of her muffled cries, the feel of her fingers in his hair and the sensation of being buried fully in her heat. His thoughts and emotions were a mess and he was driven purely by instinct now as he thrust even harder into her. He heard the slap as Emma's hand hit a nearby post grabbing onto it for balance. He went as fast and deep as he could and when he felt her walls gripping him he broke their kiss letting her cries spill out unhindered into the night air.

“Ahhhh, Nok…nngh!”

It wasn't his full name, she'd bit her lip to stop herself, but it was close enough and with a few more quick deep thrusts he was coming inside her. He had missed this, missed her so much and he didn't want to let go of her yet, as if she could read his mind her arms shakily wrapped around him and he rested his head on her shoulder. They stayed like that for much longer than was safe but neither of them could bare to let go but eventually they had to part and they helped to make eachother presentable again. The silent walk back to the palace was torture for Nokto, she was right there and he wanted to reach out and hold her again but he knew he shouldn't, couldn't. Just before they reached the doors they'd left through, Emma stopped.

“I don't think I can go back in there.”

Nokto reached out brushing a stray lock of hair behind her hair and went to speak but he was interrupted.

“That's probably best.”

Emma and Nokto both jolted and turned around to see Licht leaning against a column with his arms crossed.

“I told Chevalier you weren't feeling well so went to get some air and that I was joining you.”

Licht pushed himself off the column and walked over to stand beside Emma.

“I'll take Emma back to her room while you go back to the party.”

The two men stared at each other as a silent conversation played out between them.

“Hmm, Goodnight Emma.”

“Goodnight Nokto.”

Emma and Licht watched Nokto rejoin the party then he leaned towards her.

“Did you tell him?”

“No, we kind of…got distracted.”

Emma bit her lip and Licht sighed.

“I figured, just remember what Chevalier said.”

“I know.”

Tag List: @nightghoul381, @nani-nani-nani, @floydsteeth, @queengiuliettafirstlady. Want to be added or removed to List let me know

[monsterfloofs]

I was re-reading all your maestro fics again for the manyth time and was stuck on how hopeful and excited he was when he heard a knock on the door thinking it was reader for it only to be Angelo. And I was thinking (though it’s well after Valentine’s Day) what if reader knocked on his door and was planning to just leave him a valentine’s flower and card. They had given a card to everyone in the group though never a flower but their anonymous goes awry when he excitedly answers the door, Thanks.

Maestro (He/They Harpy) x Anonymous Reader (Sfw)

(Ah gosh can I do this?? Can I do this??? I am going to plead with my brain to be able to write something, because I feel like I am really flounding creatively lately. 😭 I shall try my bestest.)

The room was filled with music. A lilting melody that highly contrasted the poised figure playing at the piano. Their brow furrowed, with a concentrated glare that could almost burn a hole into the sheet music they were reading. There was a slight misstep, causing a wrong note to call out, like throwing a rock into a serene pond. Feathers ruffle angrily and his chest rises up in a deep sigh of frustration.

Again.

Do it again.

The hands snap back to the beginning and the sweet melody starts over, glaring at the page of music. Nose wrinkling in something like disgust, the hand pauses at a particular stanza, thoughtful. Tinkering with a few notes before he gives a scoff and snatches an eraser from the shelf, scrubbing at the paper before drawing a new note. He replays the section, eyes fluttering closed and nodding to himself.

Better. It’s getting better.

Strange to think that it has been a year since he had been struggling with this one piece of music. It was a fault of his that they knew too well, perfectionism would be the death of them. Yet, the more they attempted to rush and finish the piece, the more it eluded him completely. He wanted for it to be perfect, but days and weeks and months of a busy schedule allowed him only so much time to work on it. Perhaps it was fruitless after all. His tense shoulders began to fall, slouching and glared at the paper. It has been a year, and much can change in that span of time.

—

It’s weird to think about how much can change in a year. You think to yourself, marching up the stairs into the concert hall. It’s the weekend, not only is it the weekend, but it’s a Sunday. No one would be here on a Sunday right? You think about Maestro, how much of a work-a-holic he is and frantically wave the thought away. You assure yourself and the nervous voice in your head. You. Yes you, the one who is screeching that we should be running for the hills.

Not even he, in all of his frightening glory, would be here. There was nothing to worry about. At least. . . .You hoped so.

You pressed an ID card to the door scanner and you heard a chime before you pushed your way inside of the building. The sound of your shoes on the floor was unnerving, it was quiet, too quiet. The kind of quiet that leaves you drowning in your thoughts.

Leave the card and goodies? Keep the card? Don’t sign the card and leave it anonymous. Perhaps running home and burying yourself out in the backyard would be best. No one would find your body there. You freeze, as the sound of music seeps from underneath his office.

He is here. Of course he is, why had you ever entertained the idea he wouldn’t be? You practically tiptoed up to the door, conscious of every step your feet made on the tiles. You stopped in front of his office door with it’s large square window. Staring at Jameson openly from the other side. You knew he was a composer, but you couldn’t recall hearing anything he wrote. Was he working on something now? You look down at the bag in your hand. Roses peeking out of the top and you could see pink card through the transparent plastic.

He is such a stoic and intense man, you would have thought he’d prefer more dramatic songs. You hesitate, if you leave the bag on the door handle like you intended, once he goes to leave the handle will twist and dump everything onto the floor. The card and chocolate would be fine to take a tumble, but the roses. You dither, wondering if you set the bag on the floor, would he see it?

You begin to notice the silence in the room stretching on. Where was the piano? You slowly raise your head up to stare. Maestro was now also openly staring back at you. He typically smooth feathers where fluffed out and sticking up in funny places like he had just been a victim of static electricity.

The staring contest lasted longer than you had hoped for. Knees weak, you begin to sink. Your face in wide eyed terror as you slowly settle into a crouch, your saucer eyes the last thing to disappear from the view of the window.

What are you doing? Run you fool, run! Yet instead, you stay crouched in front of the door, staring at the crack between the polished wood and floor. Hoping beyond hope he would just ignore what he just saw. Heck, maybe he would think he hallucinated it! You hear a soft knocking from above and you look up to see Maestro staring down at you through the window.

“What are you doing?” He mouths at you, a look of concern and considerable confusion plastered on his face.

“I don’t know!” You managed to mouth back, your voice a whisper. Scrambling away from the door as the handle begins to turn. Maestro runs his hands through his feathered mane.

“It’s. . . “ He began then frowns.

“The weekend? Yeah.” You bounce on the heels of your feet before taking a deep breath and holding out the bag to him. Oh now he’s really looking like he got struck by lightning or something.

“Here,” Your voice tumbling over itself in a rush. “I know Valentine’s Day was days ago, but I just wanted to give you these and say thanks for working with all of us.”

He stared at the bag as if it would try and reach out and bit him.

“Oh.”

“Yeah! So uh– I’ll be on my way, I’msorrytodisturb.” Your words speeding up even faster as he puts a hand to his face.

“Did you. . . hear the song?”

The question had you taking in a gulp of air, so ready to continue on with the panicked apologized until your brain caught up to you.

“Song?” You echoed, “The song you were playing on the piano?”

He wiped his hand down his face, then squinted, staring promptly at a spot just behind your shoulder. “Yes,” He began slowly, “What did you. . . think of it?” You blink a couple of times to make sure you heard him right. He was asking you about the music?

“It, was lovely.” You admitted, treading slowly and carefully into your answer. “Did you write it?”

He hesitates before finally taking the bag from you, his hand lingering against yours longer than necessary. He clears his throat and runs a hand through his feathers again. Determined to smooth down the unruly plumage.

“Indeed.” He beckons to you, holding the door open. “Why. . . Why don’t you come in? I am sure it would sound better without any obstacles to block the music.”

You shuffled your feet before following him inside. Noticing a wilted bouquet of roses on the top of the piano. Even though the flowers were drooping, there was still an unmistakable sunshine orange. Just like the roses that were in the bag hanging from Maestro’s clawed hand.

You remember the website you had poured over when you were at the store. Red was for love, orange was for a crush, yellow for friendship, and pink was for appreciation. You had almost settled on pink, but then at the last second the orange ones caught your eye. You wondered, if someone else had been charmed by the brooding musician. Maestro glances at you, before gently lifting out the wilted flowers and replacing them into the water. He doesn’t look at the rest of the contents in the bag, setting them down on top of his desk before he takes a seat in front of the piano.

The music was gorgeous from what you had heard from outside, but being in the room and letting the notes hum around you. You closed your eyes, and listened, the casade of sound pulling on your heartstrings. “It’s beautiful,” You murmur out loud. You hadn’t expected that he would be able to hear you. Yet his voice replied. “Ah, good. Then I was able to convey it properly. . . It’s for you, you know."

[mixelation]

more rotating on this post: kakashi dating a civilian OC who has no idea he's a ninja

original proposed concept is they "meet" via icha icha fanzine. i bothered @tozettastone and they suggested that OC be a cosplayer. what does icha icha cosplay even look like? you ever seen IRL naruto coplay that's like "naruko but she wears a miniskirt and fishnets and a lot of makeup." or like fanart of kakashi where he's wearing a bellyshirt for no reason other than to show off his abs. like that, plus some very over-the-top traditional clothing for undercover work and civilian characters. everyone has off the shoulder kimono that show off cleavage and magically stay up, etc

anyway, i can't really see young!kakashi (like 18-19-20?) actively participating in fandom. but maybe he finds a zine somewhere and starts collecting them, like a pre-internet lurker. it's his coping mechanism, okay. he likes fanart. he likes bad fics. and then our lovely OC who's also 19 and fresh to being allowed in the porn section is like: I MADE THE BEETLE WING HAORI HERE'S A PHOTO. there's a note about her sorting through thousands of beetle wings to get the right colors, and also what a nightmare they are to sew, and also what should she try next, mail me here??? and Kakashi is like: oh wow, this person is insane. i have just the challenge. <3

(OC's additional notes on the haori: no one should ever do this again. just don't. you'll regret it)

kakashi is not the only person to write her suggestions, but he IS the only one to suggest something that's actually technically difficult to make, which is what she wanted. so they start swapping letters where she sends him progress updates on this insane thing she is making. he finds this mildly amusing until about a month out from the next con when her letters abruptly turn insane. she WILL premier this cosplay there even if it kills her-- listen if her wig guy isn't up to snuff she'll just LEARN HERSELF--

and listen kakashi isn't going to FALL IN LOVE but this level of commitment is something he can appreciate.

OC sends him a letter about the con (her very first one!!) and going to a con is not something he has any interest in, but like. he is curious to know what they're like, and it's nice to like? have? a friend??

they trade letters for years without actually talking about their personal life much. kakashi is not creative (no writing fic, no fanart, no cosplay, etc) but he IS really good at analysis. you need every detail on naoki's civilian outfit in paradise? he's got you. you don't understand wtf the text is talking about when it describes a weapon? he'll draw you a diagram (and not mention he knows what jiraiya is talking about because it's based on a real thing that was popular for like a month during the third war).

this goes on for years. oc lives in a small town in a little border country with no ninja, and her family runs a clothes shop, and she's deeply bored of making and altering shirts. she has a frustrating life in a very mundane way-- she dates a few guys and doesn't marry any of them and her family gives her grief. she moves to a slightly bigger city and can't get a job doing what she wants (making high-end luxury clothes and/or just insane fashion) and ends up working at a general store and doing minor alterations as a side gig to fund her hobby. she doesn't get to travel around and do cool things as much as she dreamed as a kid. she skips some cons because she doesn't always have the money and also there's a weird guy who'd been low-key stalking her. she tries selling little pre-made costume pieces at a con and doesn't even break even. only a handful of these details make it into her very serious discussion with kakashi about how the many details the icha icha miniseries got wrong

kakashi is.... being kakashi. obviously he doesn't write to her about all the assassinations he's been doing or whatever. but he doesn't mind when OC hints at her own boring problems. it's kind of nice, actually, to know there's people out there having boring problems? anyway one day she complains her landlord won't let her get a dog and he mails her a polaroid of a random dog he met in a park.

i'm thinking around the time of just before canon starts is about when kakashi is at a place where he's like..... okay with sharing some personal details? like he doesn't say a LOT but he realizes it actually feels really nice to write to someone that he's annoyed the store stopped selling his favorite pre-rolled sushi. the letters get sent more frequently and the conversation escalates at a slow, tedious pace. kakashi sends more dog pics. he tells her that he was so exhausted after work that he considered eating dog treats instead of cooking, and this feels like a very big deal to him

her: PLEASE tell me it was at least the fancy kind that look like cookies

him: obviously i would only buy the highest quality treats for my dogs

her: dogS?

kakashi: (ignores this question in the next letter)

kakashi checks his mail everyday now and he's like. oh no my feelings. but also she's in a whole other country and only exists to him in letters and that feels.... safe, somehow.

they met via a club for porn books so they don't "get together" so much as one of their very academic discussions of kink in icha icha violence suddenly turns into deeply sexual letters that have nothing to do with icha icha. there's still their normal conversation but then it's also like "if you were here now, this is what i would do to you--"

OC has been pretty good at not prying into Kakashi's life and she's very understanding of team seven making kakashi's life insane (she's under the impression her got an apprentice for whatever his job is) but she starts bugging him for a photo. kakashi is very against this at first, but then sasuke leaves and naruto leaves and sakura runs off with tsunade and suddenly he has a lot of free time and a big gaping hole in his social life. and like. he DOES really like her. they MIGHT be dating? definitely they have a thing going. so instead he asks if she wants to meet in person

OC agrees but she goes into it VERY nervous. she figures he didn't want to give a photo because he's embarrassed about his appearance, and she doesn't care what he looks like, but what if he lied about other things? what if she walks a whole day to this resort town and he's a weirdo or gross or stood her up?? but she puts on her big girl pants and also her push-up bra and goes

she wasn't actually going to sleep with him for their first meeting but it turns out he is like. hot. and talks just like his letters. and also it's way cheaper to just share one hotel room-- kakashi are you SURE you won't couple cosplay--

[ourdramaqueen]

Wyler Kinktober FAQ

Basics

What is (Wyler) Kinktober?

Kinktober is a multifandom prompt based challenge that encourages the creation of erotic fanworks, mostly fanfiction and fan art, that focus on specific kinks, taking place during the month of October. The original tumblr post was created in September 2016 by @sparksreactor, and has since grown into an annual challenge. See fanlore.org for more detailed info.

Wyler Kinktober is simply a Kinktober event specific to the Wyler pairing, A.K.A. Wednesday Addams/Tyler Galpin. We ran it for the first time in 2023, in association with @weylerwritingevents, but I felt that since it’s an annual event, it needed its own home on Tumblr. Hence, @wylerkinktober was born.

At its heart, Kinktober is very simple:

Look at the list and pick a kink (or more, if you’re feeling adventurous). You can participate for a single day or all 31 days or anything in between, as you please. Combining multiple kinks from different days is also permitted. I stress once again: Do not burn yourself out because you feel that you need to create a certain number or length of fanworks! We want this to be fun for everyone.

Create your fanwork(s). Any type and length of fanwork counts, as long as it fits with the kink(s) you picked!

On the day that the kink is listed, post your fanwork on AO3 and/or Tumblr - and in the former case, don’t forget to add it to the current year’s Wyler Kinktober Collection!

For more detailed information, keep reading!

Who can participate?

Anyone who’s a creative Wyler shipper! As long as your fanwork is Wyler centric and fits one (or more) of the prompts, you can participate!

I am not really into kink. Can I still participate?

Not everyone is into the things most people think of when they hear the word "kink", like pain play, blood play, bdsm, or power exchange. But if you look at the prompt list, there are quite a few prompts which include softer kinks/fetishes/tropes, like competence, lingerie, pillowtalk, smiles/laughter, or spooning from the 2024 prompt list. None of those need to lead to hardcore sex, just as long as one (or both) of Wyler are really into it - more than most people would be... but they could. A fic where Tyler goes feral the rare times Wednesday gives him a full smile? Hot!

I don't write smut. Can I still participate?

And you don't have to! While for many people, kink is sexual, for others, it is not, or not all the time. There are demi- and asexual people who enjoy kink. It can be about handing control over to someone you trust, about the responsiblity that comes with power, about indulging in sensory abundance or deprivation, about play and exploration, about catharsis... So you can absolutely create a Kinktober fanwork on that basis featuring zero sex! In fact, we'd be utterly thrilled if you did!

Do I need to sign up to participate?

Nope! You simply pick your prompt(s), create your fanwork(s), and post it/them on the day(s) the prompt(s) you chose is/are listed! Don’t forget to also submit your work to the AO3 Collection which will be set up and linked from this blog for each event. For more details about posting your fanwork(s) on AO3 and/or Tumblr, scroll down to the "Posting on AO3/Tumblr and Logistics"  section of this FAQ.

What kinds of fanworks can I post to fill a prompt?

Whether you create fan fic, fan art, videos, gif sets, poetry, playlists, incorrect quotes, drabbles, amigurumi, stick figure drawings, fic soundtracks... it doesn’t matter. As long as your fanwork is Wyler centric and fits one (or more) of the prompts on any given day, you can participate!

Do I need to create something for every day of Kinktober?

Only if you want to (and don’t risk burning out by attempting this)! You can participate even if you only pick a single prompt from the list. This is supposed to be fun, not stressful.

Do I need to use all prompts listed on a specific day?

You can if you’d like to, but most creators choose one prompt for each day they participate in.

Can I combine multiple prompts from different days in one fanwork?

Sure! Just post your fanwork on one of the days your prompts are listed for, tag it with all prompts you're using, and mention all the prompts and days in your author note.

Can I post more than one fill per day?

If you’re that inspired and have the time and energy, you can fill all the prompts on all days! Just remember not to burn yourself out.

What are the rules?

There are just a few. You can find them here.

Prompts and Fanwork Content

How do I interpret the prompts in the prompt list?

When it comes to the interpretation of Kinktober prompts and what exactly qualifies as a kink, I think this gif puts it best: 

That being said, if you are unsure about the meaning of a specific kink, try googling its name + kink, i.e. “macrophilia kink”. If you can’t find a clear definition that way, feel free to send an Ask or message @itshype or @ourdramaqueen! However, we do not accept kinkshaming in any way, as per the Rules. Think twice before you send us any such messages. 

How kinky do my Kinktober fanworks have to be?

That is entirely up to you! If, for example, you want to make “Ass worship” or "Torture" romantic, go for it! Not every kink involves pain and bondage. Gentleness and fluff can be kinks, too, and some of those softer kinks are usually included in the prompt list. But if you want to make it all about whips and chains and blood, that’s also fine! Just tag and warn accordingly.

Can my fanwork include other characters/pairings?

As long as the focus is on Wyler, yes. If Wyler are a background pairing or exes who are not getting back together in the story, no.

Can Wednesday and Tyler have a threesome/group sex/sex with another character or be in a poly relationship?

Again, as long as the focus in your Kinktober fill is on Wyler, even if they are in a poly relationship like WyClay or WyClair, etc., that’s perfectly fine!

Examples:

The two of them together have sex with one or more other characters, but in the end it’s really about Wednesday/Tyler.

Tyler or Wednesday is calling the shots while Bianca uses her siren song on the other, and Wyler get off on this dynamic.

Tyler is away. Wednesday is having sex with a third character while Tyler gives instructions over the phone/a video call and is jerking off.

Tyler has sex with Bianca while Wednesday has sex with Enid, but they keep watching each other’s reactions, and that’s what really turns them on.

Bianca siren songs Wednesday and Tyler (consensually, of course) into doing sexy/kinky stuff to each other.

Wednesday and Tyler seduce a third character together.

And so on...

(Feel free to use any of these scenarios, if you feel so inspired!)

Posting on AO3/Tumblr and Logistics

When will this year's Wyler Kinktober AO3 Collection go live?

Probably at the beginning of September. Earlier wouldn't make sense since AO3 deletes unpublished drafts one month after they have been created. YOU CAN FIND THE WYLER KINKTOBER 2024 COLLECTION HERE.

How do I tag my fanwork on AO3?

Please ensure that your fanwork complies with our Rules.

Include the day's prompt(s) you are using (for example, Mirrors) in your AO3 tags.

In your author’s note, say which Kinktober day(s) and prompt(s) your fill is for. Example: "This is my fill for Wyler Kinktober 2024 Day [X], prompt: [prompt name(s)]." (Replace [X] and [prompt name] with the day number and prompt name(s) you're posting the fanwork for.) Like so: This is my fill for Wyler Kinktober 2024 Day 20, prompt: Mirrors.

Don't forget to submit your fill to our AO3 Collection, see below!

How to post art, video and audio files on AO3

Unfortunately, AO3 can’t host image, video, or audio files, so you need to upload your files somewhere else, and then embed them in a new AO3 work.

Art/Images

Follow AO3’s instructions here.

Videos and Audio

AO3 also has instructions for embedding videos and audio files.

How do I center embedded images, videos, or audio on the page in AO3?

To center the embedded images, videos, or audio on the page, you will need to go into the html editor and add the following before and after the embed code:

<p align="center">[EMBED CODE]</p>

How do I add my fanwork to this year’s Wyler Kinktober AO3 Collection?

You can add your work to the Collection in one of two ways:

You go to the AO3 Collection page (see here for 2024 Collection) which will be set up and linked from here in the weeks before the start of Kinktober. There, at the top of the page, you can click/tap the “Post to Collection” button. Then you go through the normal steps to post a new work. Once you've ensured that you have tagged it correctly, hit the “Post” button, and your fanwork becomes part of the Collection! (It may take a few minutes to show up.)

You create a new work as usual. In the Associations box, you find “Post to Collections/Challenges” right at the top. In that text box, you type in the title of the Collection, i.e. “Wyler Kinktober 2024”. Once you have selected the correct Collection, it will appear on the gray background, and not as a textbox anymore. Once you post your fanwork, it will also appear in the Collection. (It may take a few minutes to show up.)

How do I tag my fanwork on Tumblr, and how do I make sure the Wyler Kinktober blog will share it?

In your post, say which Kinktober day(s) and prompt(s) your fill is for. Example: This is my fill for day 20 of Wyler Kinktober 2024, prompt: Mirrors.

Tag the post with the prompt(s) you are using (in this example, #mirrors), as well as #wyler kinktober 2024, #wyler kinktober 2024 day [X], @ourdramaqueen and @wylerkinktober.

Please also include any applicable warnings, as per the Rules.

Are there rules for posting my Kinktober creations?

Please refer to the Rules post. There's just a few, so be sure to comply with them.

I have a great kinky idea, but my kink isn’t listed this year. What do I do?

Maybe the kink you’d like to use can be considered a variation of a listed kink? Say, you have a great idea for a fic involving spanking and paddling, but they are not on the list. However, impact play is. Good news! Spanking and paddling are variations on impact play, so you can post your fic on Impact Play day! If that isn’t the case, there is more good news: October 31st is always the “Whatever You Like” day, so on the final day of the challenge, you can post a creation using any kink, whether it’s on the list or not!

I am writing/have written a fanwork (maybe for another challenge) that also fits into Kinktober. Can I submit it?

The goal is to get new fanworks out of this challenge, so please don’t submit fanworks that have been posted weeks or months prior to the Kinktober day it would be a good fit for. But if it's pretty recent, sure! If in doubt, send an Ask or contact @ourdramaqueen or @itshype!

Help, I’ve fallen behind and can’t post on the day the kink is listed for!

Confession: I (@ourdramaqueen) spent my first Kinktober mostly posting after the fact because 1) I hadn’t seen the list until part way through the first week, and 2) some kinks that called to me had already passed. 

While posting your fanwork(s) on the day the kink is listed is the goal, if you really can’t make it, post your creation as soon as you can, ideally by the end of October. Remember: This is supposed to be fun, not stressful!

I have another question which isn’t answered in this FAQ.

Send an Ask, and your question will be answered/added to this FAQ asap!

[pondslime]

what have I done (to deserve this)

bo sinclair x afab!reader

rating: explicit

word count: 4k

Bo POV. It’s the day before Valentine’s. Bo goes shopping at a bargain outlet. In true romcom fashion, you’re there too. 

Chance encounter meet-cute. Except it’s with the worst man this side of Baton Rouge. Sucks! But you get to make out with him! Hope that’s worth the incoming pain and misery, bestie!

Crossposted on AO3 here. 

Very self-indulgent and GOOFY. A heaping dose of humor and general dumbassery. Big warning for Bo being Bo. We’re in his head and he is, as always, so stupid. Reader does not have a car for porn reasons. That’s it. She’s a public transportation whore for roadhead purposes. She’s also kind of annoying. And a bratty bimbo. 

The title of this fic comes from the song “What Have I Done to Deserve This” by Pet Shop Boys. It’s just a jazzy lil 80′s track that I could 100% picture playing in a bargain outlet over shitty speakers. Bo’s on his Gen X shit.

I just wanted to write about Bo encountering a chick who immediately wanted to hoover him down. Ambiguous ending with some unsettling implications.

This fic is a birthday gift for @raccoonspooky​! 🦝💝👻 MWAH!!! I LUV U!!! HAPPY BDAY!!!! HAPPY BIRF!!! DAY!!!! HERE’S STUPID!!!! 4 U!!!

The bargain outlet stretches out in front of him, large yellow signs hanging from the warehouse ceiling. Sales down every aisle, 25% off on all kitchenware. Music blares out of loudspeakers, spitting out a song that Bo hasn’t heard since high school.

He’s thinking of his mother again.

Packed into the family car, bumping down the road to the department store. Just the two of them. Mama would tell him that it was because he couldn’t be left alone, that he wasn’t trusted like Vincent was—up at the big old house, drawing his pictures and staying out of the way.

Time seemed to drag on days like that, plodding along ungainly as Trudy slowly perused shelves. It always felt like he would be stuck there indefinitely, rotting away in front of the floral baking sets and printed potholders. When people congregated around the racks, Bo would reach up and grab her hand. Surrounded with onlookers, she’d let him hold onto it.

Sometimes they’d pass by the toy aisles, but she never gave them more than a passing glance. These trips weren’t for him, after all. Despite that, he looked forward to them with an odd giddiness.

Bo couldn’t be alone, but Vincent couldn’t get this.

Vincent didn’t get to watch himself reflected in the shining glass of the displays that their mother stopped at, tutting over bottles of perfume. He didn’t get to see the chrome and glossy mirrors, the array of beautiful women with long nails behind the counter tops. It wasn’t for him.

Bo would return home smug, carrying Mama’s bags. He always made sure to catch his brother’s eye.

Look. Pay attention. This is mine, it’s all mine. It isn’t yours.

He got in trouble one day. He couldn’t remember for what. Whatever it was, she got angry, and the trips stopped.

That department store had long since been razed. There weren’t a lot of things that stayed the same. Tradition was lost and paved over, turned into this.

Picking up a basket, he makes his way to the back of the store.

The hardware section is pitiful. It always is.

Tools are strewn everywhere, each one emblazoned with illegible clearance stickers. They never have the shit that he needs here. He sifts through the pile of haphazardly stacked tools, pulling a wrench out. It’s a twelve-inch, decent weight. He wraps his hand around it and knocks it against his palm. It’ll do.

On his way out of the aisle, he snatches up two rolls of duct tape and a pack of braided nylon rope.

There are some things you can never have too much of.

He cuts through the clothing department.

A store display looms overhead, announcing another sale. A woman pouts out of the ad, the heaving curve of her breasts spilling out of black lace. He feels something under his foot. Bending down, he plucks a bra off the ground. There’s a boot print across the front, dirt smeared across the polka dots.

“Good afternoon, shoppers!” A voice crackles over the intercom. “Two-for-one deals comin’ in hot this holiday season—”

Trudy would hate this place, with its messily stacked piles of clothes and the incessant beeping of the registers. That’s part of the reason he’s here.

“Um. Excuse me.”

“Huh?” He blinks, jerking his head up.

“Sorry, I just…” You look at him quizzically, your lips pursed. You’re holding a bra that looks identical to the one in his hands, sans dirt. “Need to get…uh. Behind you.”

“Yeah, of course.” He shuffles to the side. “Go on.”

He flicks through the rack, shoving the ruined bra unceremoniously to the back.

“You buying a bra?”

“Yeah.” He says absently. “For my sister.”

“…You’re buying your sister a bra?”

He turns to look at you. Wrenched away from the padded curve of the bras, he finally has a chance to assess you. Cute.

“Sister-in-law.” He amends.

Your brow scrunches in confusion and you nod slowly, fidgeting with the bra in your hands.

“I’m just messin’ with you.” He smiles.

“Okay.” You huff out a perplexed laugh.

He’s rummaging through the detergent when he sees you again.

“We just keep running into each other.” You remark.

“Seems like it.” Gesturing at the duct tape and utility gloves in his basket, he flashes you a smile. “Gotta get some stuff for work.”  

“You a plumber?”

“Uh, no.” He’s unable to hide the flicker of indignation that twitches his lip up into a sneer. “Mechanic.”

Your lips curves into an open-mouthed O and he glances down at your left hand. Finding your ring finger conspicuously bare, he files that away for later. It’s not like he gives a shit, but less collateral is less collateral.

“I run a station not far from here.”

“That’s cool.” You pick up a lint roller. “Well, nice to meet you.”

Bo finds you in the Valentine’s aisle. Or you find him. He can’t really tell.

“Are you followin’ me ‘round here, girl?” He shoots you a bemused smile. “You gonna tell me your name, stalkin’ me like this?”

“Maybe. What’s yours?”

“Bo.”

“You buying that for your sister-in-law too?” You nod towards the box of conversation hearts he’s holding. “Can’t imagine your brother likes that much.”

“Now, that’s where you’re wrong. We share everythin’.”

“Oh yeah?” You grab a box of chocolates off the shelf, placing it in your cart. “Seems messy.”

“She’s a lucky girl.”

“That depends.” You quip. “What’s your brother look like?”

He angles toward you, resting his hand on the shelf.

“We’re twins.”

Your eyebrows raise.

Couple months ago, he had one downstairs that kind of looked like you. Same hair color. He has a lock of it in one of the gas station drawers. Her ID’s in there too, but he doesn’t remember her name. He couldn’t place it at first, but that’s who you remind him of. Another version of you, maybe. You’ve got the prettier mouth, though.

“Surprised this one didn’t sell.” You pluck a card off the wire rack. A goose peers off of the paper, surrounded by hot pink lettering.

VALENTINE, WON’T YOU LET ME GET A GANDER…

You flip the card open. With a sigh, you hold it up so he can read it.

…AT THEM HONKERS.

“That’s a good one.” He nods appreciatively.

The food court is tucked into the corner of the store, a collection of neon signs and scuffed tables. The whole area smells gray, strings of cheap cheese and the lemony reek of industrial cleaner.

As he appraises the menu, he notices you at the drink fountain. When you turn, your eyes go wide.

“This isn’t what it looks like.” You exclaim.

“Huh.” He sighs. “Darlin’, you keep this up and I’ll have to call the cops.”

You open your mouth once, close it.

“You hungry?” He gestures toward the menu.

“You’re not from ‘round here, are ya’?”

“I’m just passing through.”

“Hmm.” He murmurs out his acknowledgment. “You should stick ‘round for a bit. Nothin’ like Mardi Gras in Baton Rouge. Family vacation?”

“No, it’s just me.”

He hides his laugh around a forced cough. Pinching at the bridge of his nose, he clears his throat.

“Sorry. Cigarettes.” He smiles at you. “I’m thinkin’ ‘bout quittin’.”

You chew idly at your slice of pizza, your eyes drifting over his face. He arches a brow.

“You like what ya’ see?”

“I’m not sure.” Your lips twist into a smile. “I’m still trying to figure that out.”

You have a lot of damn nerve.

“You do this a lot?” He fixes you with a pointed look.

“What? Go shopping?” There’s something so hopelessly dumb about your expression. You’re blank and brainless, an assortment of curves and painted-on prettiness in front of him.

He imagines paddles whacking the careening Ping Pong ball of your thoughts across your brain. A thought misses the paddle, ricocheting off the side of the board. Game over. Fiddle with some buttons, start over. Another one comes to take its place, bopping uselessly in your skull.

He’s met enough of your type that it shouldn’t surprise him, but somehow it always does. Someone this stupid shouldn’t be allowed to wander too far. And yet, here you are, all by yourself. Just you and your flimsy hold on rational thinking, wandering around his state.

If he hadn’t have met you here, lord knows what trouble you would’ve gotten into. You’d probably have wandered out into the bayou. Blinking all pretty, getting stuck in the muck. Wrenching open a gator’s mouth and stepping into it just because you were curious how many teeth it had.

He’d pay good money to watch that.

“Don’tchu act all shy ‘bout this. You know what I’m askin’.” He tears the straw wrapper into tiny pieces, his gaze trailing down your neck and onto your breasts. “Ya’ make a habit of goin’ ‘round and propositionin’ men in stores?”

You choke out a laugh, your eyes going wide.

“I’m not propositioning you!”

“Whatchu doin’ eatin’ my pizza, then?”

“What am I…doing…” Your eyes twinkle with barely contained glee. You muffle a laugh around another bite of pizza. “…Eating…your pizza?”

“Yeah.” He leans back in the chair. “Ya’ seem pretty happy to be sittin’ right there. Eatin’ my pizza.”

“You’re very cute.” You wipe your mouth off with a napkin, staring pointedly at his hands.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” Grabbing a slice of pizza, he takes a bite.

It’s awful. Grimacing, he manages to swallow it down. Glancing down at it in disgust, he lets it fall limply back into the box. It takes him a moment before he remembers to readjust his face into one of tranquility, winking over at you.

“You know what.” You deliberate for a second, your eyes darting to his lips. “I think I am propositioning you.”

“There’s a theater next to my shop.” He smirks. “You wanna catch a movie?”

“I don’t wanna interrupt your work.”

“I got all the time in the world, honey.” He winks. “Truck’s outside.”

“You’re not gonna kill me, are you?” You rest your chin against your palm.

“Not yet.” He shakes his head. “Hardly know ya’ yet. That’d be jumpin’ the gun.”

“Alright. Fuck it.” You grin. “Let’s go.”

Standing in line at the register, he reaches into your cart and snatches out the box of chocolates.

“Hey!” You put your hands on your hips. “What are you…”

“Ya’ think I’m gonna make a girl buy her own chocolate? What I look like to you?”

You move to say something, your eyes glittering.

“If ya’ say plumber—” He gives you with a sharp look, narrowing his eyes. “I’ll tan your hide.”

“Is that a promise or a threat?” You stage-whisper, loading up the belt with items.

“Goddamnit, girl. Let’s get you outta this fuckin’ store.”

Pulling down a side road, he parks the truck.

“Hand me that, would ya’, baby?”

Rustling in the bag, he pulls out the box of chocolates. Ripping the plastic off, he tugs the lid open. He takes a bite of one. Cheap, shitty chocolate. Puts it back in its slot. Picks up another one and takes another bite. Caramel, but it’s still—

“You wanna give me my chocolate back?” You tap on his arm.

“Sorry, darlin’. I bought it. It’s mine.” He smirks at you. “Maybe if ya’ ask all pretty, I’ll give ya’ one.”

Your mouth falls open in shock and you let out a frustrated huff.

“That’s not fair!” You exclaim. “You lied.”

“Lyin’? Nah. Just omittin’ some details, sugar. It’s how we do it down here in Louisi—”

You clamor into his lap, making a grab at the chocolate. Popping one in your mouth, you bug your eyes out at him.

“Bad girl.” He tosses the box onto the dashboard. Reaching up, he grabs your chin, pulling you closer.

You taste like chocolate when he kisses you, his hand slipping down your jaw to tighten around your neck. You hum happily into his mouth, your hands on his shoulders. He can feel your breath under his fingers, the pulsing hammer of your heartbeat against his palm.

You’re always so close to death, to all that red and heat underneath, and you don’t even notice. He could press down a little more, constrict your airflow. Make it hurt. You need that, don’t you? You don’t have any fuckin’ structure. Leave you with your throat burning, your eyes swollen with tears. Make you thank him for that.

“I don’t really do this.” You murmur against his lips.

“Whatchu doin’ right now, then?”

You laugh, a breathless little noise. He reaches back and gathers your hair together at the back of your head. When he tugs your head back, you gasp.

“How bad ya’ want it?”

“I—” Discomfort flashes over your face. “Wait, um. Hold on. This is really awkward, but—”

You readjust yourself in his lap and he drops his hand, watching as you reach under your shirt. Biting down on your bottom lip, the strap of your bra slips down your shoulder. Working it through the sleeves of your shirt, you blow out a huff of relief. Stretching your arms to extricate the loops, you tug it free, tossing it onto the floor of his truck.

You turn back to him with a bashful smile.

“Movin’ fast, girl.” 

"The wire's been digging into me all day.” You shake your head, glancing over your shoulder at your discarded bra. “I needed to get a new one, but—I got kinda distracted."

"And whose fault is that?"

You look at him curiously, as if his question is strange. You lean forward and flick at the brim of his cap, smiling.

"Well, yours, technically."

“Don’t see how that tracks.” He leans back onto the headrest. 

“You distracted me.” Your voice goes high-pitched and melodic, a sing-song lilt that makes his hand tighten into a fist at his side. 

He exhales, snorting out a laugh. 

“You know what?” 

“What?” You tilt your head, raising your brows.

“I changed my mind. I’m killin’ ya’.”

You blow a raspberry at him, rolling your eyes. 

“Not yet, c’mon.” You whine, dropping kisses down the bridge of his nose. “It’s like you said. We haven’t even gotten to know each other yet!”

“You’re tryin’ my fuckin’ patience, girl.” 

“Good.”

You’re a bratty fuckin’ thing. Untrained, not an ounce of discipline in you. You rock your hips against him, wetting your bottom lip. Tart and wild, a stubbornness coasting under your skin.  He wonders how long you’ll be able to hold onto all that sass. What he’ll have to do to make sure you lose it. He can’t wait to see you cry—you’ll taste sweeter then, curled up inside yourself.

What kind of fuckin’ coincidence. 

“Look at’chu.” He shakes his head in disbelief.

“What’d you say? Take a picture, it’ll last longer?”

“Oh, don’tchu worry, baby. I will.” He grins. “Gotta get you all warmed up first, though.” 

Slipping his hand between your legs, he rubs at you through your jeans.

“You’re not fucking me in your truck.” With a giggle, you still his hand, tugging it back onto your hip.

“You gonna try to stop me?”

“Um, yeah.” A shriek of laughter spills out of your mouth and the movement rocks your body against his lap. “Anybody could see us!”

“Ya’ gonna tell me that’s what you’re worried about?” He squints at you, squashing down the glare that threatens to darken his features. Not yet. “After grindin’ on my lap like that?”

“Look, I’ve got a better idea.” Shimmying off his lap and onto the passenger seat, you grin at him. “When’s the movie?”

“The movie?” It takes a moment before the realization hits him. Scrubbing a hand over his mouth, he clears his throat. “Oh, uh—an hour.”

“And how far away is it?”

“Uh, twenty, thirty minutes.”

“Well. I don’t wanna miss it.” You tilt your head, raising a brow. “What if there’s a line?”

“There ain’t gonna be a line.” He says definitively, a wave of exhaustion settling over him. 

“You don’t know that.” You laugh. “Anyway. I think…you should drive us there. Now. So we have time.”

He’s barely started the truck back up when he feels your hands at his belt, undoing the loop.

“The fuck you doin’?”

“Trust me.” You unzip his fly, pulling him out of his boxers.

You could be sweet if you wanted. All sugar. It’s easier that way, but you won’t want it easy. You’ll make him fight you for it.

You work your hand over his cock with a sigh of contentment. Your thumb teases over the slit, rubbing precum over the head of his cock. He feels a spike of irritation at you for wasting even an ounce of his spunk on your hands. As if to apologize, you bow your head, running your tongue up the underside of his cock. You’ll have to do better than that. Licking up the sensitive skin of his frenulum, you tease your mouth around him, letting him twitch against your tongue.

“Ya’ gonna suck it or not?” He snaps, keeping his eyes locked on the road. He doesn’t need to look down to know that you’re smiling.

“Don’t be grumpy.” Your voice floats up from his lap. “I’m just taking my time. You’re just so pretty.”

Pretty? Anger rushes through him. Calling him that—thinking you can, thinking that there wouldn’t be any consequences. Who raised you? For all your pathetic staring, you haven’t even seen what’s in front of you. 

The lack of respect is sickening, making his balls feel heavy and tight. He needs to be down your throat, if only to shut you up. Give you something else to focus on. Every moment you’re near him, you’re signing yourself away. Doubling back, going over the contract in bubbly cursive.

You’re entirely unaware of how many marks you’re tallying up. Every swirl of your tongue sinks you deeper in debt. He wonders if you’d laugh if you knew just how many apologies you’re setting yourself up for.

With a hum, you take him into your mouth, swallowing your lips around his cock.

“Take it deep. Don’t you stop.”

A noise erupts from your mouth, but it’s garbled around his cock. He can’t tell, but he could have sworn that was a laugh.

He stops the truck abruptly, the movement thrusting him deeper into your mouth. You gag around him, a disgustingly wet noise at the back of your throat. With a wet pop, you pull your mouth off of his cock. The sudden loss of sensation draws a frustrated growl from his lips.

“Be careful.” Your lips are back on him. Mouthing kisses down his length, your nose bumps against his skin. “Don’t crash the car.”

“I’ve been drivin’ this truck for longer than—” You wrap your lips around the head of his cock and the sentence falters in his mouth.

He pictures you standing in the theater lobby. Confusion in your eyes, a slackness to your jaw. It’s odd and you’ll know it, right away. But you won’t do anything about it. You’ll second guess yourself. You think you’re so smart, don’t you? With that sweet little twist of your lips, batting your eyelashes at him, resting your hands on his shoulders. He wonders how long it’ll take for the confusion to lift. The realization settling over you, chilling you to the core.

You’ll look back at him and you’ll know.

A lifetime of mistakes all falling into place, your scream lost under the palm of his hand.

You should be fucked there. That’s how it should go.

He can’t wait. Not for anything, ever. Mama was always saying that. And with the wet clasp of your mouth around his cock, patience isn’t manageable. How could it be? You’ve taken up all of it, trapped it in your smile. He doesn’t have any more to give.

You bob your head up and down, resting your hands on his thigh. 

“Good girl.” He mutters. You moan and he clenches his jaw, tightening his hold in your hair. “Just like that, c’mon.”

You raise your head off his cock again and murmur out his name, and his grip on the steering wheel turns his knuckles white.

You better be enjoying saying it. Let it live in that slutty mouth of yours for a while. It’ll be off limits soon.

There’ll be other things to call him. Later. He can see several of them in his head, stacked fifty feet high in neon. He probably won’t even have to tell you which one he wants, you’ll come up with it on your own. It’ll bubble up in your little head and you’ll drool it out helplessly, stuffed full with cock. Makeup smeared down your cheeks, caked under your eyes. He’d like to see you when you’re trying to fold into yourself. When you’re trying desperately to be anything but pretty for him.

He’s ready to take the shiny veneer of this personality off. It’s slipping now, he can feel it. 

“Ain’tchu glad you met me?” He grunts out, his breaths coming out shallow.

You’re going to hate him soon enough, and he’ll be able to remind you that you didn’t before. That you can’t fool him into believing you don’t love his cock down your throat, that you don’t want his hands on you—he knows better, and you do too.

You moan your agreement against his cock. Glad, you’re fuckin’ glad. You’d better be.

He bucks up into your mouth when he cums, smacking his hand down on the steering wheel. You’re choking around him, making desperate little huffs through your nose. For your credit, you keep him in your mouth, tightening your lips around the base. He eases his foot off the accelerator, wetting his lips. 

The truck slows to a crawl as he pants, leaning into the steering wheel. He shudders when he feels your lips tug off his cock, swirling your tongue around the oversensitive head.

“We there yet?” You cough a bit, carefully tucking him back into his boxers.

“Christ, girl.” He whistles through his teeth, glancing over at you. “Actin’ like I didn’t just fuck ya’ throat.”

“You didn’t fuck me. I fucked you. And no one saw.” Wiping your mouth off with the back of your hand, you giggle.

“Little cocksucker.”

“You loved it.” You chirp smugly, winking at him. It takes everything in his resolve not to grab you by your hair and slam your forehead into the dashboard. He can’t get blood in his truck again. Shit’s unprofessional. And he’s nothing if not a stickler for appearances. There’s a way to do these things, and you’ve forced him to rewrite his script halfway through the scene. He’s almost impressed with your lack of morals.

He can only imagine how wet you must be, soaking through your jeans. With the way you were moaning around his cock, your pussy must be aching for it.

He should lay a fuckin’ towel down. Protect the goddamn seats—he can’t get your blood on the upholstery, and you know that. 

Tryin’ to leave your mark some other way, ain’tcha?

“Is this it?” You ask brightly, peering out the window.

“Yup.” He parks, turning to you. “Think you can do me a favor?”

“What?”

“Just gotta check on somethin’ with the truck. You wanna run into the shop and put this on the counter?” He grabs the chocolate box off the dashboard and stuffs it into the plastic bag. “Wouldn’t want it meltin’.”

“Sure.”

You hop out of the truck, looking at him expectantly.

“Go on, pretty thing. I’ll be right behind ya’.” 

As you push the door of his shop open, he stuffs your bra in the glove compartment. It’s cute. You won’t be needing it.

[blondbo]

hi! hi! hi! so here is the first few parts of a qsmp fic i’m writing!! it’s honestly pretty shit but i just want to get it out there!!

general premise: q!tubbo is one of many deities of what in the future will be quesadilla island. specifically tubbo is in control of the weather but is not totally vibing with his powers. he finds that he really doesn’t have any powers at all but rather just reactions. the federation has just come in large floating ships to come investigate the island for future potential islanders. tubbo, feeling he could be more useful than just his powers, he helps the federation. So here it is! will prob be on ao3 but i didn’t know i had to wait to be invited SADGE. anywhere here it is:

Section 1:

They came from the west as giant floating barges of their proclaimed glory. White arches covered rows and rows of halls and offices to match with glass revealing to revelers some vision into their perfectly curated bubble. But one arch proclaimed some dominance over the others on each ship as they were much taller and not covering any hall but had the air to show off each facet. Though I found the flying mechanics to be much more of an interesting aspect of these pompous barges and maybe their only facet worth the celebration the others proclaimed. No fire, rather six hollow circles on the bottom of each. The only part that wasn't drawing attention to itself because there was nothing to truly see there. Maybe that was the brilliance for me.

That was the world I created around me; nothing showy or caustically exclaiming to you how everyone should look at it. Every cloud I create are for themselves, and maybe if you like that sort of thing, then you can appreciate them. But they don’t call to you. Unless you’re a bull and a rain is all that calls to your thirst.

No matter the wants of the bull, I knew from the moment I could see them that they were assholes. The Federation they would later tell me. What they didn’t tell, what I would have to learn, is that they are assholes, the whole lot of them.

Section 2:

I had learned a few things in my life even if I didn't understand where it came from. I learned to worship the sun for her ever present dances in my glade. That even if the weather that flowed from emotions, it was not mine but someone elses creation I was fortunate enough to even be able to wield. That the bulls or the flowers and even the moss were not mine but a duty to take care of even if I don't know who bestowed it on me. I learned to tolerate the rain and snow even if it exploits me. I had learned trust in the world around me for it trusts me. Until that face.

I had been perched in a high willow on the outskirts of the swamp to enjoy an evening of her last flickering dances. I hadn't taken much notice the growing buzz of their ships, maybe I let it doze me off to sleep. A sleep until they were parked right on the beaches and a loud thunk. I had no time to blink off the sleep as I watched their barge unfurl like a laxed tongue to release figures of white. The first few were dressed in drab pallets of grey and more grey that reminded me of the rain again. I hated the first fools out of instinct. They were only there for the next few in jackets of assorted blues and oranges that balked at nature in their artificial hues. And maybe the few in jackets were only there for the one I was truly disgusted by. He was a bigger, more amicable seeming figure from the way that he took his body down the incline. The taller figure was the only

“ person” I made me think that maybe I was wrong about the rest of them. There was a certain natural kindness to him, atleast that’s what I surmised. Then he turned his head towards me so I shifted my body higher up the tree. I saw its face. The rest of its body knew it was alive or as much of life as it could since it took on a certain fluidity. But the face. I remember my legs pushed me up out of fear. The face was stuck in time, a sinisterly happy memory that can't tell if it hurts the thing or not. To remember.

Either way, he was seemingly taking in parts of the island but I couldn't tell if there was a sort of happiness to it. I don’t think it could appreciate as he was stuck in that eternal happiness through his face.

All of them were following his lead even if they couldn’t emote at all, just looking around and trading notes or scraps. I don't think they knew how to talk, though if they created transportation like that then maybe they just couldn’t at all. No use in even learning. And I guess I felt bad for them. Found it all pitiful.

As they encroached more into the glade, I watched as they planted more unnaturally-colored things into the ground: flags, poles, stapled paper into those poles. More notes at a rapid pace until they found a more active life in a pig. I leaned over on what seemed to be my hiding spot to get a closer look their poking and prodding with pencils and random metal sticks. And looking back the pig responded with a sort of affection as he was only ever used to those kind of touches. Then one of the orange fellows passed a note to the main smiler, it nodded. A note was passed to one of the grey ones, then they pulled a grey machine-looking thing. A spark, a splatter, a squeal. I lurched forward and with a quick breath of my own surprise (or horror) took me out of the tree and onto a few branches before I landed on the ground.

“My own stupidity” I said, and funny enough my words seemed to take more of their attention than any display I made.

A colosseum of blank faces with that fucking smile centered as though he was their jewel.

Section 3:

I found something I never learned was to keep my mouth shut. I had once beat a demon in a game and may have said a few arrogant remarks after winning. Maybe I hit a nerve because she made me hallucinate an ever present shadow for the next month.

So I was blunt in my introduction, an introduction I would argue was the beginning on the end.

“Who are you?” I asked rather openly.

But my head started to buzz and a voice from I assume the smiling creature said, “Hello, what are you doing?”

A laugh wormed its way out, “What am I doing? Who are you to ask this?”

“What are you doing?” the buzzing repeated.

“I just want to know what you’ve done with my friend, the pig?”

I was handed a notebook seemingly originating from the creature.

Written was:

Hello

We were sent from Federation to examine this island for a potential developing project. The action towards the pig was out of scientific inquiry and nothing to be alarmed by. To further our understanding of the island, you are to immediately identify yourself.

So I was kind and obliged.

“I am Tubbo, one of many deities sent to protect and foster the isles. And one of my duties is to protect said creatures, even from scientific study. Though I do not wish to fight you. One thing for your study, I am fair.”

Another book:

Hello, Mr. Tubbo! It is very wonderful to meet you! We at the Federation would like to extend a hand and ask for assistance as we traverse the island.

“I would like to, I guess, but was is all this for?”

“Classified” said the buzzing.

“Oh good!” I breathed a little in as some kind of reflective moment passed over me. I was not here for myself. I was here for the island, to make her home for others. Maybe this is my opportunity to be more than just their rain and clouds. Maybe I was more, I thought.