#i know we've seen her at the pool and whatever

[skateisawesome]

inexplicably i dont think tori can swim

[vividxpages]

"mine"

Jacaerys Velaryon x fem!Reader

a/n: yeah..........I have nothing to say to my defense. This is me coping after that photoshoot drop. we've all seen it, you know what's up.

🌹

Your boyfriend had the prettiest moans you ever heard in your life. And god, how fun it was to make him sing.

Right now, you were seated very comfortably, your legs spread and wound tightly around Jacaery's waist as you sat on top of him. The lacy fabric of your bra pressed against his naked chest as you arched against him, gasping as the friction between your bodies hit just right.

The bathrobe he had emerged in from the steamy bathroom pooled around him and his dark hair was soft and silky between your fingers. Your heated breaths mingled ever so often and while he couldn't tear his eyes away from you, you could not decide where you wanted to look first.

It could've been a soft and adoring moment between you and him if you weren't currently chasing another high by getting off on his thigh, moaning shamelessly and unbothered as you allowed him to touch you - touch you everywhere but where he actually wanted to.

"Baby, please-" Jace whined against your throat, his hands trembling as they ran over your sides. His glassy eyes were fixed on your chest for a moment and the way your thighs quivered with the effort you needed to rub your drenched pussy against him, your wetness staining the perfect white briefs he wore. They had been expensive, but now you ruined them with relish, your previous orgasms and his leaking dick staning the fabric.

So far, you had made yourself come twice on Jace's muscular thigh while he had not finished once. You had not granted him the luxury so far and you were way too obsessed with seeing him like this for now, flushed and sweaty all over just for you as he stared at you with enchantment and unshed tears in his eyes.

"Please." He tried again, puppy-like, really, his breath hitching as you tugged at the hair in his nape, not stopping your efforts to come a third, powerful time. "Please, love, let me touch you, let me touch myself, let me do anything-"

You smiled sweetly at him, briefly kissing his pouty mouth before leaning back in his lap, out of reach. At the gentle shake of your head, Jace released a frustrated groan, close to a cute little sob.

"Uh-uh, just a little more, baby boy." You whispered, kissing him again with raw hunger this time, a siren feeding on the love of her captive. As you bit down on his bottom lip, a hiss ecaped his kiss-bruised lips and his hips bucked up into you on their own. "I know you can last a little longer, Jace. You've been teasing me earlier, let me have a little fun here, hm?"

"'havent teased you..." Jace murmured defensively and you cocked an eyebrow at him, grinning knowingly. "H-how?"

"You think I didn't notice?" You whispered and dragged your nails over his smooth chest, delighted at the way his robe kept slipping down his shoulders, exposing his bony shoulders for kisses and bites you loved to give him. "You've walked past me all innocently earlier, just in your briefs about...four times, was it? Were you trying to get your girlfriend's attention? You just could've asked, baby."

Jace whimpered, throwing his head back as your fingers drifted underneath the waistband of his underwear. You could feel the heat of his throbbing dick, neglected and overstimulated at once by your mission to tease the hell out of him.

Just a little more and you'd have him right where you wanted, eager to lay the world and himself at your feet. You knew he would let you do whatever you wanted in this particular state, no matter what you desired, he'd give it to you.

Maybe you'd let him eat you out while you picked out some of the expensive jewelry he got you for the night? Maybe you'd make him change into a new pair of briefs and let him finally jerk himself off while you watched, feasting on the fresh fruit the hotel had brought you? Maybe you'd cut the bullshit and ride him until he didn't remember his own family name anymore?

The ideas were blooming in your hazy mind as you smiled down on the boy beneath you. You two still had a few hours until the big black-tie dinner party with his whole family and you had a lot of patience, knowing it wouldn't be long until the love of your life would start begging.

[corroded-hellfire]

AYW req if you'd like: while Reader is pregnant with Eliza, she starts getting more prominent stretch marks on her stomach & boobs & stops letting Eddie see her naked. Eddie rectifies that situation hehehehe

This was honestly so fun to write! Love featuring the kiddos but these two also need some alone time hehe 💜 @munson-blurbs and I hope you like what we've come up with

Warnings: smut, p in v, unprotected (she's already pregnant but you should still wrap it up), semi-public sex, pregnant!reader, oral, f!receiving, breeding kink, body image issues, older!eddie, dad!eddie

Words: 3.3k

[As You Wish masterlist]

The late June day is sweltering as you step out of the Harrington’s house and into their backyard. The placid blue water of the pool looks refreshing and calm—or it will, until the kids get in. Luke quickly jumps in alongside Theo and Danny, the three rowdy boys immediately splashing each other and then whining about being splashed. Ryan and Natalie are decidedly less hyperactive, taking care to watch baby Amelia where she kicks herself around in her purple mermaid floaties. 

Nancy makes herself comfortable on a lounge chair a few feet away from the one you’re making your way towards. Normally you can keep up with everyone else, still being in your second trimester, but this heat has you moving slower and feeling crankier than usual. 

You can’t help but notice the way Nancy looks in her bathing suit compared to how you feel in yours. Nancy’s had four children and looks stunning as always as she lays back in her black one piece. You feel shoved into your navy suit, like every little stretch mark that mars your skin is on full display for the world to see. 

Trying to shrug it off and enjoy the invitation from the Harrington’s to have a pool day, you make yourself comfortable on your lounge chair and adjust the pale pink coverup you have on. Eddie stands near the foot of your lounge chair, shielding his eyes from the sun as he looks out at the children in the water. Your eyes feel glued to his lithe frame as he strips his shirt off. The pale skin that’s left on display practically has your mouth watering. It doesn’t matter that you’ve seen him naked countless times, your eyes still roam over his torso and the beautiful works of art he has inked on his skin. 

As Eddie rids himself of the Black Sabbath shirt, he notices the way you’re gawking at him. A smirk quirks up his handsome features and he playfully tosses his shirt at your face. Your hormones this second trimester have been no joke. The moment Eddie walks through the door after work you’re jumping on him. Your husband swore you were going to wear him out before this baby was born. Not the last week or so though, now that Eddie thinks about it. Maybe those particular horny hormones have been fading to make room for whatever new batch comes in for the third trimester. 

The sound of little feet kicking too hard beneath the water of the pool approaches you and Eddie, and you look up to see Luke swimming over towards the edge. He grins up at the pair of you, shaking the water from his curls like a dog just out of the bath. Bright blue eyes land on you and they’re doing a pretty damn good impersonation of the puppy dog look that Eddie gives you when he wants something. You know what Luke is going to ask before he even opens his mouth. 

“Wanna plaaaay with us? Please?”

Giving him a frown as you squint beneath the blazing sunlight, you shake your head. “I’m super tired, bud. Growing a baby is hard work,” you tease. You’re not technically lying—when you’re not jumping Eddie’s bones or concocting weird new food combinations, you’re sleeping— but no one needs to know that’s not the reason you don’t want to get in the pool. 

“I can play with you,” Eddie offers his son. He takes a step towards the pool and is ready to dive in when Luke wrinkles his nose up in disgust.

“Nah, I’m good,” the little Munson boy says. 

As you bring your hands up to your mouth to cover up your laughter at your son’s remark, Steve claps a hand on Eddie’s bare back.

“Gonna need some ice for that burn?” Steve whoops. 

“Shut up, Harrington,” your husband grumbles in response. Eddie takes a seat near your legs at the edge of the lounge chair. His hand finds your leg and he rubs up and down your calf, always needing to be touching you in some way. Physical comfort is something you both love to give and receive from one another, which calls for a lot of soft rubbing or absent-mindedly drawing patterns on one another’s skin. Now, Eddie’s touch is having a calming effect on you, though he didn’t even realize there was something you’re uneasy about. Your body language must change as he relaxes you though, because he tilts his head to the side as he gazes at your face.

“You feeling alright, baby?” he asks.

“Yeah, just tired.” 

If Eddie had any follow up for that, he doesn’t get the chance because Amelia kicks her way over towards Luke in the pool and hangs onto his shoulder when she’s close enough. Her hand almost slips from his wet skin, but Luke manages to catch the little girl before she can float too far away. 

“Uncla’ Eddie!” Amelia calls once she’s clinging to Luke again. 

“What’s up, Little Red?” he asks his favorite ginger niece. 

“Come in, come in!” Amelia cheers. 

“At least somebody wants me in the water,” Eddie says with a pointed look at Luke. “Anything for you, my darling Mia.”

A few minutes after Eddie’s joined the kids in the pool—who also convince Steve to come in—Nancy comes over to you, noticing how everyone else is in just their bathing suits and you’re seemingly putting on more articles of clothing. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you answer too quickly, nervously tucking your lips into your mouth. 

“Bullshit,” she counters, crossing her arms over her chest. “I have four kids; I can smell a lie a mile away.”

“Seriously, Nance, I’m fine.” You muster up a small smile, but she sees right through it, and you know it. 

You have your nose buried in a book, unaware that Nancy is reaching over the side of the pool to give Eddie’s ear a tug. 

“Jesus H. Christ!” he yelps, rubbing the affected lobe. “What was that for?”

“Go talk to your wife,” Nancy says through gritted teeth, obviously irritated at having to spell it out for him. “Marco Polo can wait.”

As Eddie attempts to get out of the pool, Amelia grabs his leg and tugs. Your husband lets out a soft chuckle and picks the small girl up.

“I’ll be back, Mia.” He presses a few kisses to the top of her wet, red hair and sets her back in the water. 

Over the top of your book, you see Eddie sauntering towards you. You slip the book back into your bag and tug your cover up tighter across your body. 

“What’s cookin’, good lookin’?” he asks with a smirk. “Besides that bun in the oven.”

“Just relaxing,” you say. 

“If you’re just relaxing, why did Lady Harrington threaten my life to come over here? And why aren’t you in the pool?”

The only answer you have you don’t want to tell him. And you’re not going to make up some lie to get him off your back. Eddie deserves better than that and you would never treat him with anything less than the utmost respect. That doesn’t mean you want to tell him the truth, though. You swallow embarrassment as you mutter, “I gotta pee.”

Eddie doesn’t let you get far without him though, he’s hot on your tail as you walk through the back door into the house.

“Can you please tell me what the problem is so I can at least try to fix it?” he asks once the screen door is securely closed behind him.

Silence is his only reply as you walk up the stairs to the second floor. You’re obviously upset, and your husband can’t relax until he knows what’s bothering you.

“Sweetheart, what’s the problem?” he asks again.

You stop short and spin on your heel to face him. As Eddie tries to read your face, he’s not sure if there’s more sadness or anger there. Either way, he wants to make it go away. He’d do anything. 

“This is the problem!” you say, gesturing towards your boobs and stomach. 

Eddie looks at you for a moment, brain trying to comprehend whatever it is you’re talking about. He shakes his head and gives you his response. “If I keep looking at them, this is gonna be a problem, too.” He motions to his crotch.

“I’m serious!” you yell in frustration. 

“I am, too!” Eddie says, raising his eyebrows. “Don’t forget how I got you pregnant in the first place.”

“Oh, so I can blame you for this mess?”

Eddie wrinkles his brows. “What mess?” He knows you would never refer to your baby that way, so he’s even more confused as to what you could mean.

“The stretch marks, Eds!” you lament, throwing your arms up in exasperation. “They look like an angry toddler drew lines all over my body.”

Understanding clicks inside Eddie’s brain. Why you’re so covered up. Why you didn’t want to go into the pool. But how could you ever think anything about your body wasn’t absolutely beautiful to him?

“That’s why you haven’t been all over me the past few days,” Eddie says as the realization hits him. “I thought maybe it was those horny hormones, or whatever they’re called, fading. But you…you think there’s something wrong with having stretch marks? Baby, no. It’s just your body making more room for our little sweet pea to grow. They’re beautiful, sweetheart.”

Believing him is easier said than done. You want to believe him, but battling the insecurities in your head is not something you’ve conquered yet. Now you just stand there and fiddle with the hem of your coverup, not knowing what else to say or do.

Eddie sighs and gently takes your hand into his. 

“Come with me. I wanna show you something.” 

Eddie leads you into the upstairs bathroom and shuts the door. He positions you directly in front of the mirror above the sink and stands behind you. Slowly, he moves your cover up out of the way to reveal your growing bump, stretch marks dotting the sides. 

“How on earth could you think anything about this is a problem?” he asks, his hands barely grazing your skin as he admires your tummy. “Look at you. Gorgeous bump. Cute little stretch marks from where our baby is making herself comfortable inside of you. It’s incredible, princess. Your body is literally growing a person and you’re mad at it because there are a few lines appearing on your skin?” He gives an incredulous laugh as he turns you around to face him. “Jesus, I mean, see what just talking about it does to me.” One large hand dwarfs your smaller one to press your palm to the hardening bulge in his swim trunks. 

You roll your eyes. “Please. The wind blows the wrong way and you get a boner,” you rebut. 

“Oh, Sweetheart,” Eddie says with a small groan. “Don’t say blows when I’m hard like this.”

“Can you be serious for two seconds?” Your temper is already short from the heat and the pregnancy, and his blasé attitude only makes it worse. 

Eddie cradles your cheeks in his hands. “I love you. And I love your body. I loved it before you were pregnant, and I’ll love it after, but watching you carrying our baby…fuckin’ does it for me.” He bites his lower lip as he drinks in the sight of you. “Goddamn, you look fuckin’ gorgeous like this.”

You think back to when the two of you first got together, when he’d made what you’d assumed was an offhand remark about knocking you up. Maybe it wasn’t as out of left field as you’d thought. 

As if he can read your mind, Eddie’s lips press soft kisses down your neck as he murmurs, “always dreamed about getting you pregnant. Would’ve done it a lot sooner if I’d known you’d be this sexy.” He runs a finger along a stretch mark that curves down your stomach. 

“H-How much sooner?” Curiosity asks the question for you as your back arches slightly from his touch. 

“That night,” he confirms, knowing he doesn’t have to elaborate further on what night he means, “but your stupid birth control pills ruined all my fun,” he adds with a teasing smirk. 

“They were so stupid. Sh-Should’ve stopped taking them the second I saw you.” Your voice is still timid from the emotions coursing through you, but Eddie can tell you’re finally letting him in.

Eddie throws his head back. “Fuck, baby. You got me all worked up.”

“Oh, you poor thing,” you tease, hands sliding up his wet chest and over the sparse hair. “What should we do about that?”

Eddie whines and leans in, nipping at your neck. 

“You know, I wasn’t a big fan of this bathing suit anyway,” you tell him. “The faster you get it on the floor, the faster you can be inside of me.”

Eddie gets your coverup and bathing suit off in record time. It would’ve made you laugh if you weren’t so turned on. His swim trunks go next and then Eddie is lifting you up onto the bathroom counter. There’s not much time to admire his fully naked body before he gets down on his knees in front of you. You wind your fingers through the hair on the top of his head and he looks up at you with wide, hungry eyes. That look alone has you practically dripping for him. 

Eddie keeps that eye contact with you as his hands force your legs further apart and he licks a broad stripe up your folds. You’re the one to end the staring contest when the pleasure overwhelms you and your eyes flutter closed, throwing your head back. It knocks against the mirror, but you’re too caught up to notice if it hurt or not. 

On the next swipe of Eddie’s tongue, he keeps going up so his tongue is trailing the swell of your belly as well. He presses hot kisses against your bump as he works his way back down again. He repeats the motion, next time taking time to either kiss or run his tongue along the stretch marks. The physical sensation feels amazing, but paired with the way Eddie is making you feel emotionally with his tender touch is making your heart thump even faster. 

Every little movement of his makes you feel more cared for, more cherished, and sexy. He’s built you up so high that you have to give a little tug on his curls so he pulls his mouth away from your pussy.

“Need you inside. Now.”

“Anything for the woman carrying my baby.”

You pull his mouth to yours and moan against his tongue as you feel his hands roam your body. His touch soothes over the areas of your breasts where you’ve memorized the stretch marks before moving down and caressing the ones on your stomach again. 

Eddie’s hands slide up to your hips and give a quick squeeze. He gently lifts you down from the counter and spins you around to face the mirror. You brace your hands on the counter as Eddie trails soft kisses up the side of your neck.

“Want you to see how fucking hot is when I fuck you like this,” he whispers in your ear, his hot breath sending a shiver throughout your body. 

You spread your legs, but Eddie wants them farther apart. He nudges them with his knee while he rubs a hand up and down your spine. He fists his cock a few times, making eye contact with you in the mirror as he does so. The way he’s looking at you has you whimpering and whining in anticipation.

Your noises make Eddie smirk, and he lines himself up with your entrance. As he pushes in, one hand snakes around your body and rests firmly on your baby bump. 

“Fuck,” Eddie groans. “I’ll never get over how fucking perfectly we fit together.” He punctuates his statement by tilting your chin slightly upwards so you have no choice but to see yourself in the mirror. You watch as he disappears inside you, your body obeying his every command. 

When you rock your hips back against his, Eddie slips his other hand around you to rub circles on your clit. His middle finger finds it easily, slipping through your soaked folds and pressing against the sensitive bud. The feeling is too much; you have to bite your lip to keep from screaming out—the last thing you need is the Harringtons hearing your pathetic whines. 

“God, I wanna fill you up so bad, baby,” Eddie hisses, snapping into you furiously as he takes in the view of your body; the view of you watching your body. “Shit, I’d make you pregnant twice over right now if I could.” 

“W-Would you always keep me pregnant if you could?” you manage to ask between gasps and whimpers—both yours and Eddie’s. 

“Fuck,” Eddie growls. “Don’t tempt me, sweetheart. “I’ll go buy a damn farm right now to raise all the babies I want to put in you.”

His words make you laugh, which has you squeezing around Eddie’s cock. He moans, drawing you impossibly close against his bare chest. 

“They’re babies, not sheep, Eddie.”

“Still need the space to run around,” he muses, making you laugh again.

“I love you so—-oh! So, so much, Eddie.”

 He’s ridiculously hard inside of you, fucking into you like his life depends on it. “Shit, I love you too, princess.” His middle finger makes more frantic circles around your clit, throwing you over the edge. “You’ve got a fuckin’ vice grip today, holy shit,” he breathes, willing himself not to finish too early while still being acutely aware of his surroundings. 

Your fingers dig into the countertop as each thrust brings you closer to your orgasm. “Right—right there,” you pant, fighting back a moan. “Don’tstopdon’tstopdon’tstop.” You come, aided by his magic fingers and your raging hormones, with a soft whine of his name. 

“‘M right there, shit, you’re the best little fucktoy,” he grunts. The hint of degradation has you clenching around him again; of course, he immediately takes notice of it. “Y’like that? Y’like being my pregnant little fucktoy? Knocked up with my baby and still beggin’ for more?”

“Y-Yes, sir,” you stutter, smiling at the reaction your response brings. 

Eddie’s pistoning his hips into you, whispering directly in your ear, “So good, so fucking good f’me. Gonna come so deep in this little pussy, mkay? Gonna keep you pregnant, just like you want.” 

With a guttural groan, he spills into you. His breath is hot on your shoulder blade as he stays inside, not wanting to withdraw right away. You’re not complaining either, until—

“Are you two finished in there?” Steve’s irritated voice beckons from the other side of the door. Your already sweaty body heats up even more, realizing you’ve been found out. Something about it is also oddly hot, but it’s not the best time to think about that with Eddie still inside of you and Steve on the other side of the door. 

“Just a sec!” Eddie calls back, giving your earlobe a gentle nibble as he pulls out, scooping up the cum that’s dripping down your bare leg and stuffing it back into your pussy. “Had to clean you up,” he murmurs with a salacious grin. 

The two of you put your swimsuits back on and fix yourselves as best as you can before Eddie opens up the bathroom door. 

Steve just rolls his eyes, barreling past you as he mutters, “Dammit Munson; you already got her pregnant. Relax.”

[matthewswifeee]

Happy New Year!!!

In which reader runs into her ex boyfriend, Matt, at a new years party.

. warnings: smut, party, alcohol, use of (Y/n).

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I take a sip from the cup in my hands, trying my best to take in the scene I am currently placed in. I'm in a giant house back in my home town, Boston Massachusetts, at a house party. Are we a little old to be reckless drinking in the middle of some rich guy from high schools house? Maybe, but it sure was fun to act like a teenager again, not a care in the world... except this time if the cops come we're all of age.

I down the rest of the vodka in my hands before placing my cup on the counter and making my way to the backyard with yet another familiar sight to see. I find myself sat in a chair beside the huge swimming pool with the long blue slide attached from the roof to the pool side. The memories I smile to myself a bit, this is the closest I'm coming to a high school reunion.

The big house is already pretty crowded which causes my anxiety to get a little intense, time for another drink. I down the second and the the third cup of vodka and to my surprise when I set the cup down I see my bestfriend, Alexa but the person behind her makes the room around me go silent for a moment.

"Hello, earth to (Y/n)" Alexa says waving her hand in front of my face. I quickly am snapped out of the slight daze by her motion. "You're staring" she says crossing her arms over her chest. "I just uh- I haven't seen him- I didn't-" I try to choke something out but Alexa cuts me off. "I know I know but... the past needs to stay in the past" she says grabbing my hands and pulling me over to where everyone was dancing. "Now lets have fun" she shouts over the blaring music.

Alexa and I were having a great time, so great I almost forgot that he was in the same room as us until Alexa was pulled away by some guy. Alexa went to go dance with someone leaving me to go fetch myself another glass of vodka. I walk into the kitchen full of bodies and of course there he is Matthew Sturniolo.

I lightly smile at him as I reach in front of him to grab the bottle, dumping whatever was left into my cup. "Whoa maybe you should slow down there" Matt says chuckling a bit. I slam the cup down on the counter playfully rolling my eyes at the boy. "Where's your little entourage" I say referring to Nick and Chris. "There around here somewhere, where's yours" He asks, referring to my triplet brother and sister, taking a sip of his drink. "Dante didn't come and I have no clue where Lexi ran off to" I say looking around the room in front of us.

"Hey (Y/n)" James says turning both Matt and I's attention to the guy now standing beside me. "Hey James" I say looking away. "Oh you and Sturniolo are-" James begins to say and Matt swings his arm around my waist. "Yea we are" Matt says making me quickly turn my head to look up at him. He looks down at me and quickly pulls me into a kiss, making James walk away.

We pull away slightly before he's pulling me back in for another, but this one was more, way more. Our little kiss turns into a full on make out in the middle of the crowded kitchen. Matt's hand inches below my waist as he grabs my ass making the heat rise between my legs. "Bathroom" I whisper breathlessly into his ear and before I know it he's holding me close as we make our way into the bathroom just down the hall.

Once we get inside he pushes my back up against the door and locks the handle, just like we've done so many times in our high school days. "Jump" Matt instructs and I do as he says. He places his hands under my ass for support before he sets me down on the edge of the counter top next to the sink. He reconnects our lips and I can feel the smirk on his face against my lips as I slide the jacket off of his body. Matt pushes up the bottom of my dress causing a breathily moan to escape my lips. Matt pulls away for a moment, pressing his forehead against mine.

He stares into my eyes as if he's asking for permission as one of his hands makes it's way to my inner thigh, making me even more soaked then before. "Please Matt" I moan quietly as his hand reaches just below where I need him the most. He slowly moves his hand up and down before I grab his wrist and place his hand on my soaking wet core. "Straight to the point I see" Matt says with a smirk, he begins to rub circles around my clit causing me to burry my face in his neck.

Matt pushes my legs further apart, taking in the sight that he missed oh so much. "Fuck I've missed you" he groans before lowering himself so that he is now face to face with my clothed pussy. He kisses me through my black lace panties while looking back up at me. He grabs the sides of my underwear, maintaining eye contact with me, and pulls them off, ripping them. My hips buckle from the cold air hitting my warm body.

"I need a taste so bad" Matt says seconds before burring his face between my legs, devouring me like he'd been waiting his whole life for this moment. I'm trying my best to be quiet but between him fucking me with his tongue mixed with his nose brushing against my clit it was so hard. "Forgot how good you taste" Matt says before kissing me again, while I take the opportunity to help take his jeans off.

I watch as his hard cock springs out of his boxers and hits his stomach. He pumps himself a few times, swiping his thumb over his light pink tip before pushing into me and bottoming out, earing a loud gasp from the both of us. He starts off slow as I clench my pussy around his hard cock. It's like my pussy was make for him, him fitting into every crevasse perfectly fucking me just right every single time. "Fuuuck, won't- la-last long- unnhg-ah- if you keep sucking me in like that" Matt warned me, his voice strained from containing his release. He slows down his pace, trying his best to make himself last longer. My cock drunk expression along with the way that my walls are pulling him in was making it s hard not to just cum.

He was biting his lip in an attempt to muffle the sounds he was making but it really wasn't helping. "You feel so good baby" I moan quietly in his ear as I clench my pussy around him and that was it, he couldn't hold back any longer. It crashed over him so suddenly that he couldn't hold back the moan that was threatening to escape his lips. "Ahhh shit-cumin- in you" he gasps out shakily, his hands griped tightly on my hips. "Filling you- w-with- ahhh- my fucking ba-babies" Matt moans as his hips start picking up the pace, with me a moaning mess underneath him.

My orgasm crashed over me quite quickly, my juices spilling out all over Matt's cock and the counter top beneath us. The feeling of my pussy squeezing and pulsating around him in just made him want to fuck you even harder and faster. "Fuck- Maaatt" I cry out when he hit my sweet spot as I subconsciously tried to shut my legs. "You're not getting out of this" he chuckled breathlessly, pulling me off of the counter top and turning me around before filling me back up again from behind, making sure his cum was deep in me.

He pulled out and rested a hand on my lower back, making sure I was okay. He turns me around to face him "Are you alright" Matt asks softly cupping my red cheeks, I nod in response out of breath. I catch my breath and lean over to pick up my panties off the floor as Matt redresses himself. "Matt come on" I say holding up my torn underwear, him laughing and shrugging his shoulders. "It's not funny" I say tossing them into the tiny trash can and readjusting my dress.

The rest of the party Matt and I spent together just like old times and no one seemed to question it, not even when I went back to his parents house with him and his brothers after.

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HAPPY NEW YEAR BITCHES🥳🥳🥳

lmk if we want a part two?

mwah <3 😘

[atinylittlepain]

Chapter Eight

no-outbreak!Joel Miller x f!oc

series masterlist

series playlist

warnings: 18+ heavy angst, references to past injury related to DV, very brief and very vague smut

a/n: we've reached the end of this story. i love these two, very much. thank you for reading.

...........................................

Maybe there's a God above But, all I've ever learned from love Was how to shoot somebody who outdrew you? And it's not a cry, that you hear at night It's not somebody, who's seen the light It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah

Hallelujah as performed by Jeff Buckley

...........................................

The car is real. It is parked outside the house now. Sneering a chrome smile at him, taunting him. The sound of its engine in the mornings when she goes to the diner whispers the same thing everytime. Soon. 

One day after the perfect mess he made, he dropped her off at the diner and she informed him with all the warmth of a business associate that he need not come back to pick her up, because Sal would be giving her the keys to the car that is now parked outside the house, the car that is now hers. The car that is going to take her far away from him, any day now. 

They move around each other like ghosts. How fast fission breeds new rhythms and routines, never in the kitchen at the same time, nor the fields, fleeting passings in the evenings. He has taken on more night shifts to keep himself out of the house, to keep himself from doing something stupid, like knocking on her bedroom door and getting down on his knees. Only a few days, though it feels like a yawning beast of time has already blinked by.

She will tell him, won’t she? At least that. Actually, he’s not sure if she will. If he will come home one morning and the sheep will be calling a grievous sound into the thin air because their favorite has left, stuck with him once again. Warning, notice, if not for him, then at least for her flock. 

How quickly things soured, all their jagged pieces tearing and teething at each other. His mean, her mean, and the desolate monster it has made between them. He will let her leave, he must. Care has turned into a cage, and he must leave the door open, must let her step through to something else, something better. Because clearly, whatever this is, plainly no good. 

The mind is a cruel machine. The worst part of all of this, he has been dreaming of her. Scraps of visions, what he can remember. The perfect line of her clavicle, and how breath made the pools of shadows swell and bend against her skin. The way his hand curled around her thigh, the hinge of it. He wakes up wanting, warm and wretched, alone in the night. But the patrol shifts help with that, something about sleeping with the sun trying to pry through the blinds staving off the darkest of his thoughts. 

Sarah called the other day, asked how Dove was doing. Oh, you know, he said. Because he could not lie to his daughter, but he could not offer the truth either. The truth, neither of them are doing very well. Partial, parallel unraveling. The kitchen remains dormant. There are no trips to the grocery, to the library. Only what is needed for another day to pull over into another night and over again. He looks miserable because he is miserable. Glances he has stolen of her, peering out his bedroom window to watch her get into her car in the mornings, he sees that she has turned sharp again, drawn down and in around the edges. This pain, this sickness, is shared. 

He runs through all the ways it could never work while he sits in the slumbering cruiser on the side of the highway. That lull between spring and summer has arrived, all living things bracing and bending beneath inevitable change, quiet in their submission. Life raises its hackles and curls down low to the ground, silent sulk, waiting for new prey, new time. And in the silence, his thoughts grow and gristle.

No, it could not work. He thought that he could, but clearly he couldn’t. Couldn’t be careful enough around all the big and small hurts that trail after her. Because that’s what that was, that night of no, a hurting thing. A wounded, rejected thing. Easier to call it anger. And so was his, the next day, the car, the turn of her shoulder away from him so he could not see the first line of tears fall. 

And now it’s just a meanness, isn’t it? Anger that festers and flumes into something bitter and blistering. Easier to be mean about it. Sorry is so very difficult to swallow, after all. This silence, this sharp shuttering out, mean, the both of them digging their thumbs into the places it hurts the most and pretending to enjoy it with grimacing grins. Good for you, good for me, so there. Good for us.

Always, at some point in his shift, somewhere in the middle of the thick night, his thoughts turn small and young. We are born wanting, and we will always return to wanting. And he does, now, lets himself want all of it. Even the pain she caused him, he would take it happily, standing up and smiling. Something poetic could be said, something beautiful, but there is no need for the fuss or frill of it. Simply, he wants her. Urgently, he wants her to stay. 

Like all things, the wanting passes just as the night does. Eventually, his grip on the steering wheel unfurls and unfists. Eventually, the light begins to spread a pale blue out across all the ink of the plains. Morning starting to suggest itself, mercy. 

He blinks, bleary, a small protest from the engine when he inches the car back onto the road, time to return to the station, want still clearing from the fuzzy periphery of his mind. 

It does not scare or startle him, but it does give him pause. Coyotes, fur dunned and dull, matted tufts sticking up over their slinking bodies. They cross the road with no concern for the car, slow languorous placement of paws, the largest of them turning its jaded eyes into the headlights, perhaps a disillusioned sigh, before it continues on its path. Pups trail and trundle behind, nipping at mother’s tail, new energy, new life, and how dangerous, daunting, daring it can be. 

He does not go back to the station. He goes home. 

Still early, still sleeping, maybe. He does the thing he has been telling himself he shouldn’t. But shouldn’t is what got him here in the first place. Enough of needless shouldn’t. 

She is awake. Her hair still damp from a shower, darkening the blue shoulders of her uniform when she opens the door to her room. Her room, the guest room, whatever it is. Confusion is clear in her frown, the pull of her brow. She keeps the door halfway closed, a quiet understanding of distance needed.

“Are you leaving soon?” Shit, stupid, wrong words that got ahead of what he meant to say. And he just made this so much worse, her whole face pinching tight before slackening into something smaller, something sad. 

“I am. I’m sorry that I haven’t yet.” Sorry that she hasn’t left yet. Sorry that she didn’t get out sooner. And here he is, rubbing all that sorry in her face. 

“No.” All he can think, to quickly slip up his throat to, at the very least, keep her here with half of a closed door between them. Better than the alternative anyways.

“What?” 

“That’s not what I want, not at all.” It is selfish to make this about him, but it is all he can think to say, the only truth that seems to be offering itself up. Dove just looks tired, weary and worn, waiting for the catch. What she said, all those months ago. Always a catch, always waiting for it.

“Joel.” A sigh, but still smarting sweet because he hasn’t heard it from her in too long. 

“This isn’t working.” Going about this all wrong, he has finally realized. While he has been so afraid of no, of unwanted, he has failed to remember that she was taught a long time ago that wanting was not allowed, and that being wanted was an even worse impossibility. Both of them, lashing out against the same thing, though it’s each other that they leave bleeding.

“No, it’s not.”

“I’m going to try to speak plainly.” What he’s going to do is make her late for her shift if he doesn’t kick whatever courage there is whining in his chest up into his throat. But she shows no sign of rush, wide eyes and the smallest frown. 

“Okay.” Okay opens the door fully, though she doesn’t move in invitation, staying separated by the threshold. 

“I don’t want you to leave.” 

“Ever.” Added in the afterthought of silence, because he needs to make himself very clear. Soon, after all. 

“I’m not what you want, Joel.” Said with a scoff, a jerky wave of her hand like no, not even going to entertain it. But it’s enough for something soft to snap in him, hands reaching, but not touching, suspended want as he murmurs, or prays maybe, to her you are, you are, you are, Dove.  

“But I can’t keep you here. Not if you don’t want it.” Me, he meant to say me. But he thinks that she understands all the same, something slipping behind her eyes. 

“I shouldn’t.” Shouldn’t stay, shouldn’t want. A shameful confession that is said to the tips of her shoes more than it is to him. 

“I don’t fucking care.”

“You should.” 

“Just, please, tell me.” 

“I do, okay? Probably more than you do.” 

“That’s not true.”

“How can you just say that?”

“Because I know how much I do. And it’s everything.” And that’s it, he wants to say, that’s all that matters and nothing else and you do and I do. Case closed, finally fixed this thing, this lame, limping thing between them. If only it were that simple. 

“Do you really?” A leap, or more like a lurch, but pure relief when she lets him, two stuttering steps closer and one palm finding the space between her shoulder blades, the other the hilt of her spine, pulling her into him. His and hers, finding the other’s rhythm. Beat like this, body and blood like this. His mouth settles at the crown of her skull. Here, and nowhere else, not ever again, please. 

“Sometimes it makes me sick.” The truth, because there can be nothing else now. Yes, he is sick with it. Sick for her. 

“I want to be normal for you.” Muffled into the fabric of his shirt, and the unsaid after of it. I don’t think I can. Like sorry, like penance, her hands curling closer around his shoulders as she starts to shake. But what he can offer her, something still, something sure, his palms drawing her in even more, him breathing her breathing him.

“I’m not asking you for that, Dove.” No, asking for something much bigger, much more terrifying. Asking for all of it. 

…

Dove is only a little late to her shift. Joel drops her off, waits a few minutes to make sure there is no grief from Sal about it, not that he was expecting there to be. Replays to himself her explanation, what she told him on the way there.

“I didn’t get the car to leave, not really.”

“You didn’t?” 

“Before, I thought it would make things easier.” For him, he realizes, something she had thought of for him. Make things easier for him, not having to pick her up and drop her off and look bored at the library while she browsed. And no, he’s never going to forgive himself for this one. 

He doesn’t go back to the diner for lunch, but it’s not for spite or scorn. Agreed-upon space for both of them to think, offering an out for each other, one last opportunity to decide that this is actually a terrible idea. 

The sheep accept his presence and it feels like he finally got something right, even a laugh when Judy offers her head to him for a brisk rub beneath her chin. 

“She’s coming home, I think. I know you wouldn’t forgive me if she didn’t.” No response, she is a lamb, after all. But he’d like to think that her two hard blinks commend him, already plucking away through the grass toward her mother. 

When he does pick her up after her shift, her lips purse trying to pull back a smile as she walks around the front of the car. Hope lifts, winged and real in his chest. 

The day steals from the night this time of year. It won’t be dark out until much later. For now, the light is starting to bleed a little, orange syrup and haze filling and flooding the cab of the truck. Nothing is said, but staying is understood when she takes his hand in both of hers, and keeps it for herself, tucked in her lap the whole ride home. 

So much of their time together has been spent like this, driving toward and away from town, sometimes silent and sometimes not. A selfish part of him wishes she hadn’t gotten the car, wanting to keep her needing him in this way. But no, he reasons, there will be plenty of other time besides this. No need to be greedy about it. 

There is not much food in the kitchen, but there are always eggs. Two for him and two for her. They eat standing up, propped against the counter. And when he moves to wash the dishes in the sink, she catches his wrist. The dishes can wait until the morning.

The thing about Dove is she has always had a curious way of touching him. Literally curious, like she is surprised she is allowed to trace the pads of his fingertips with her own, spirals fitting together. Like she is testing the boundaries of him, finding all the soft places with her palms, spanning his sides and up along his chest, fingers flirting beneath the collar of his shirt, shivering down with it. But before this continues, he must make sure, must ward off that ghost for good. He takes her face in his hands, thumbs settling along the soft curve beneath her eyes, tracing some constant constellation, her cheeks rounding with it.

“I need to know that this is what you want.” 

“It is.” 

“I need you here. With me.”

“I am, Joel. I am.” This isn’t want, after all. Want isn’t big enough for whatever this is. Something deeper, something threaded in with all the sinew and stretch of bone, ligament, and beating tissue. This is need. Vital and visceral, and so very precarious. 

His need makes a foolish fumble out of the buttons of her dress, a laugh dancing beneath the brush of his knuckles, catching somewhere under her sternum when his eyes flicker up to hers. She rolls her lips back into her mouth, trying to tamp down any mirth or mocking, but a huff still slips out, smile threatening at the edges. How easy, how lovely, fitting the curve of his own against hers. That laugh turns into a sigh that he swallows. 

And it was never about letting or allowing, never about being big or strong enough to scare off all her specters. What has changed, he isn’t sure. But waiting, he has found, is often a solution in itself. Maybe just the mercy of enough time, enough space shared and understood. Brains finally catching up to bodies, deciding yes, now is good. 

Need makes animals stupid. A caught thing, captured and crumpled thing, will gnaw off its own limb in need of escape. A hungry, hungered thing will turn so desperate, so singular and silly in its need. It will take whatever sate it can get. Hands and skin and teeth and tongues. And in the kitchen no less, still hungry, still needing. Jawing up each other, and humming at the taste. Feast and fire and flood all in one. 

Her mouth settles sharp along the tendons in his neck, humming there as he curls over her to shrug her dress down and down into a pool around her feet. A little snarl, a little curl of her lip, preening when his palms squeeze her hips, coaxing her closer into his chest. She is far more schooled in the work she makes of his shirt, and then, missed this. Missed skin against skin and heart straining to press against heart. Missed the run of his fingers down her ribs, the quick catch at her waist. He only got it once before, a blink compared to this, but he has been missing it ever since, a sigh now that he has it again. Has her again. And Dove, still learning how she gets to have him.

“Can I?” A kiss to her brow, a smear of words whatever you want, Dove. Tentative at first, she presses her mouth to the hollow where his throat slips into clavicle, letting her nose run a line out to the edge of bone, to shoulder, enough sense to turn her a little bolder, fingers curling into the waist of his jeans, tugging. And it is not graceful, silly, stupid, needing bodies curling and caving into each other. His legs splay out long as he settles back against the cabinets below the sink, Dove furling into his lap, the perfect spread of her thighs at his hips. 

A lesson in the anatomy of need. Here is how. How a body can give and take everything it needs from another body. So simple, really. Open mouths and muscles slackening sweet and syrupy to make space for more, more, more. She keens when he turns his face into the curve of her breast, fingers curling in his hair, holding him there in the cradle of her heartbeat, his ears rushing with it. 

It is not pretty, it is not about making it perfect, or even right. It is a desperate seeking, it is relief from this need in the way they just manage to shrug his jeans and boxers down over his thighs, in the way she slips the faded cotton of her underwear to the side. Wet for him, wanting for him, he will have to sate the want to see some other time. For now, feeling, all sense and singe, spreading her open until her hips settle down against his. A broken, murmuring sound in the back of her throat, eyes scrunched shut. He brings his hand to her jaw, thumb stroking along the hinge as he calls to her, let me see, Dovey, please. Hello, lashes flutter first, and the slow slip open. Hello, looking at him, her forehead against his, her mouth resting open and panting against his. 

They move ugly, muscles jumping and jolting, sharp breaths that break and swell in their chests. Skin starts to stick, he holds her closer and chases down their pleasure, shared and searing. 

In the kitchen, she crashes with a cry of his name, her face hidden in the curve of his neck, mouth to pulse. 

In the kitchen, she whispers and wills him right over his own edge, her name, more sob than sound. 

In the kitchen, he would feed her his heart if he could. It’s hers anyways. 

…

Want is a child. But need is an animal. Need is base, bruising, battering. There is no escaping need. There is no lying about need. There is only offering it up, and hoping that someone will see it and decide yes, animal, come here, let me do something about your need, and you can do something about mine. 

Later, after they pick their clothes up off the kitchen floor, kind hands setting things back into place for each other, they slink outside to care for the flock, the sun starting to flirt back behind the mountains with a fierce blush. It’s then, surrounded by the low murmurings of sheep, that she whispers her own need to him, tucked into his side, her cheek pressed against his chest. 

He nods, says yes, okay. He can do that for her. And she will do the same for him. 

For now, all that matters is staying. Ghosts yet to be greeted and goaded out of their house. But for now, spring is rolling over to expose its soft, slumbering belly. Soon, summer will sink in, snarling and bright, a new list of chores and duties with every season. They will do it together. 

For now, the lambs are still lambs. Stumbling still around the edges, seeking out their mother even amidst her seeming exasperation, tired of their clinging, their closeness. Time yet to be had, getting older and bigger every day. But for now, they are young and soft, and nipping after each other in the field. 

For now, the feeling of her ribs expanding and contracting against his side is all the goodness he could want, or even need. Pain yet to be understood in all the places that her breath catches. But for now, she is looking at him and smiling, and saying something about the sheep that makes him laugh.

For now, it is enough. 

.............................................

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[cbrownjc]

You know, I was already feeling kind of apathetic toward Season 2 of HOTD, but I was still trying to remain positive about it.

And then I read the Blood and Cheese leaks . . .

Oh.

I mean, look. I get it. They probably didn't want to traumatize young children by doing the scene directly as-is. But I DO think there is a way you could have done it almost the same way as they appear to be doing it, without it losing any of its bite and horror.

Like, you could still have all three kids in bed together, but awake and scared and crying quietly, completely confused as their mother is being threatened in front of them to choose. And, you know, having Alicent there, gagged and tied, so the kids also see their grandmother in trouble as well.

And, you know, have Maelor there too, so the choice is still between the older and younger boys. With Maelor still hears his mother choose his older brother over him.

Then when Haelena makes her choice, they grab Jaehaerys up out of the bed in a quick cut and you don't actually see his murder, just cut away to guards hearing Haelena screaming. When the guards burst in, Blood and Cheese are gone, Jaehaera and Maelor are still sitting on the bed shellshocked. Haelena, meanwhile, is kneeling in front of the bed on the floor, her back to the door, but obviously cradling a little body that is still mostly hidden but causing a pool of blood to spread around her, still screaming.

This way, you obviously don't have little kid actors being visually threatened with knives and swords and such on screen. And possibly traumatizing such little kid actors in any way by doing it the way it was written. Leaving the kids all on the bed also means you can just show them in isolated cuts, where they don't even have to have been filming while things such as Haelena being threatened -- as well as the threats to the kids themselves -- are happening. You only need one or two establishing wide shots to show everyone in the room, and that's it.

And of course, you don't see one of the kids get their head cut off. Just Jaehaerys being grabbed from the bed instead of Maelor (after Haelena chooses Maelor to die and we get cut over to a close-up of his scared face), and then just smash-cut to the guards hearing Haelena screaming.

There. That's IMO how you do that scene without traumatizing little kid actors as well as still giving the scene its disturbing bite. Not whatever it sounds like we are getting instead. Which not only doesn't have Haelena not even offer up her own life for her kids, which, okay, but apparently makes the choice between the twins while they are asleep, and they don't even hear their mother picking between them. And Maelor is just being cut altogether since there was no time to establish him.

If the show is going for another Red Wedding moment with this -- which it very much could have been -- then they failed, and utterly butchered it. Because the true horror of the moment isn't even Jaehaerys losing his head. It was Haelena having to choose which of her children to die, the kids hearing their mother make that choice between them, and then the one she chose to die having to live with the knowledge that his mother chose for him to die, while the one she chose to live got murdered instead.

It is all supposed to be Sophie's Choice but with a crueler twist. And it sounds like they very much like they executed it all completely wrong. It was already going to be hard to get audiences to care since we've barely seen the twins -- and Maelor not at all (which, given that he's been cut . . .) -- but even then, you could have still had the kids hearing the choice made, which is supposed to be part of the cruelty and shock of it all. And now . . .

I'm really trying not to shit on this without seeing it yet. But just hearing how this was done isn't giving me much confidence -- for this or in enjoying the season on the whole in truth.

[mercurygray]

Introducing an OC prompt. Cordelia + 20. As someone whose name precedes them, please?

There were a couple of directions I could have gone with this, but I was re-watching the party scene for Dye today and decided to do something a little different, and, hopefully, funny.

They had only been in England for a matter of minutes, and Nash was already being Nash.

"God, I think I could listen to her voice all day," the pilot was saying with a million watt grin on his lips. "Why yes, I will do whatever you say, baby."

"You're just saying that 'cause it was a long flight, Herb," Speas offered with a roll of his eyes, hefting his equipment bag down from the belly of the plane. "Get a square meal in you and I'm sure you'll be saying something different."

Everyone else in the plane sighed or rolled their eyes. For as long as any of them had known him, Nash was out for two things, and two things only - being the best at gunnery practice, and getting a girl to like him. The first was something that could (and had) been done with long hours of practice - and the second, too, took practice, as well, though it helped that Herb also had a wide and easy smile and blue eyes it was easy to get lost in. It did not help his friends that this usually also got him in to trouble. Still, it seemed like a record, even for him - falling in love with a girl without even having seen her first.

The ground crew was already swarming over the plane like an army of efficient ants, green and grease-stained in their flight suits, following the lead of a curly-haired fellow in a knitted watch cap. "Welcome to England, gentleman. Your transport's waiting, if you want to load up. Take all your gear with you - barracks is that way, too." He paused. "Get you fellows something, while you're waiting? It's a long haul from Greenland."

"Whoever you got directing us in from the tower," Nash said with a smile, glancing across the field at the squat concrete block where the woman herself was doubtless sitting. "She got a name?"

The mechanic raised his eyebrows, still busy with his clipboard, and checked his watch. "Morning shift is still on, so that's Callaway, but I'm 'fraid you'll have to keep looking, Lieutenant. She's seeing someone." He looked up at Nash and guessed, correctly, that he was undeterred. "Big fellow - kind of a jealous type."

Nash only grinned, climbing up into the back of the truck and adjusting the angle of his cap to its usual rakish slant. "That's only 'cause she hasn't seen me yet."

"Now come on, Nash, we only just got here," Pappy complained aloud, having very much heard 'big' and jealous' and knowing from past experience what that might mean. "Can't you keep it together until we've at least met everyone?"

There were, it seemed, plenty of women on base - the Clubmobile women with their mobile canteen and coffee urns, smiling and waving from the window of their truck, the local women who worked in the kitchen, on their way home after the lunch shift, the land girls shifting a group of wayward cows, and the WACs of the typing pool and the intelligence room, headed up by a captain named Brennan who greeted them all with the CO when they got off the truck. But Nash, it seemed, would not be deterred - he still had his eyes on his prize, and he meant to get her, it seemed, come hell or high water.

There was a party this evening, they'd been informed - a celebration for Captain Glenn Dye, who'd finished his twenty five mission tour and was headed home with all due pomp and circumstance. "Is everyone going to be there, ma'am?" Nash asked Brennan, when she gave them the news. "Just seems like a good way to meet people, is all."

Brennan gave him a searching look, her answer given with caution as she tried to figure out his true intention for the question. "I'm sure it'll be well attended, Lieutenant. Captain Dye's well liked."

Nash nodded, and said no more, and Brennan turned them over to a couple of orderlies to make sure they made it to their barracks and had time for a change of clothes and a shave before the party got started.

"I'm telling you, Herb, if you so much as think -"

But Nash was no longer listening, either to Pappy or to reason, and the only thing for it was to let him leave for the officer's club alone, and hope that all the shouting had finished by the time they got there.

----

Bucky still didn't know what to think about the party.

Twenty five missions was a hell of a thing, and Glenn deserved the noise, no matter what else Bucky might have thought about the guy. (The matter of Lil still stung, a little, though that had all worked itself out in the end.) But it seemed…to be tempting fate, somehow, to have put up the streamers and gotten the beer on ice before the plane had even made it back to base, and he'd found himself, all afternoon, trying to touch wood or his Saint Christopher medal, or the thin wafer of Cord's lucky silver dollar, praying that everyone made it home in one piece. He liked the silver dollar - he didn't think he would, but she'd tucked into his pocket after Regensburg and would not take back for all the urging in the world. He'd told her he had all the luck he needed, but there was still something comfortable about the coin under his thumb, and the woman's face, with its crown and streaming hair, sometimes reminded him of Cord, blazing in her glory.

Buck was at 21 missions, and he himself at 17. Would there be parties then, when they finished? Or was it only because Glenn had been the first and, so far, the only? (And there was the question, too, of even making it at all - but he liked their odds. If there were two forts left in sky, it'll be me and it'll be you, Buck.

"So, which one's Callaway?"

Bucky turned in his seat to survey the newcomer, a pilot maybe four or five years younger than himself who must have just come in this afternoon. His uniform had the unmistakable air of having recently been stateside. "Who's asking?"

"Just a fellow who wants to get to know her better," the man offered, looking around the room with hope in his eyes. "Girl with a voice like that's got to be a looker."

Bucky quickly realized what was going on here and settled himself on to his bar stool, pushing his glass a little further away. If someone was going to make a move on his girl, that was something he wanted to be sober for - if only to make sure all the punches landed where they should. "Most everyone knows Callaway. You must be new here."

"Herbert Nash - just got in this afternoon."

"Well, a word to the wise, Lieutenant - you're gonna want to keep moving," Bucky said, calmly. "She's spoken for."

Nash grinned. "A lady's allowed to change her mind, isn't she?"

Bucky sized the fellow up and decided he liked his odds where changing minds was concerned. Cord had just walked in with some of the other WACs, Mae and Phoebe, and had only just caught his eye across the room. (No streaming Lady Liberty hair today - she was 1A in every aspect, and he loved her for it.) "Fair enough. Here, I'll introduce you." He waved and gestured her over, rising from his seat as he did so. "Lieutenant Callaway," he said, slowing her up a bit as she realized he was making an introduction. "This is Lieutenant Herbert Nash, who just came in today on one of our replacement crews."

Cord offered her hand to shake, leaning on a lifetime of practice meeting new airmen at Wright-Patterson but still glancing at Bucky to wonder, silently, just what this was about. "Very nice to meet you, Lieutenant."

"Has anyone told you you've got a lovely voice?" No sooner had their hands touched then the younger man had turned on the charm, the full effect of his baby blue eyes coming in to full focus on Cord.

"The Lieutenant's just saying he was hoping he might have a chance at a date," Bucky announced, after he'd let Nash feel like he'd gotten a hit in.

The dime dropped behind Cord's eyes, and her smile curved up a fraction. "Did you tell him I'm seeing someone?" she asked patiently, glancing at Nash with an apology in her smile.

"I tried," Bucky offered, with a shrug.

"So, just who is this fellow you're seeing?" Nash asked, looking ready to bat his eye lashes and go straight for the fences, a fellow who was used to winning. But not today.

"Major John Egan," Cord said, trying to restrain a smile as she reached over and patted Bucky's chest for emphasis. "Whom you've just met."

Nash's mental calculus all suddenly totaled up, and he took one look at the broad-shouldered man in front of him and mumbled something about a drink or friends or both and beat a quick retreat to the other side of the room, finally having realized the obvious stupidity in trying to steal his new squadron commander's girlfriend.

It was too good, watching him leave - though when he turned to look at Cord, she looked a little disappointed in him. "That was mean, Bucky. He's new."

"Fellow's got to have a little fun once in a while," he cajoled, putting his arms around her waist to pull her a little closer. "Gotta show the new guys what's what."

"Are you trying to make someone jealous?"

"…No." But the pause said everything it needed to. He pulled her in a little closer, their noses almost touching and his knees pressing in on her legs. "Don't girls like to get fought over, or something?" Because I'll tell everyone you're mine until the stars go out - and fight someone for you, too, if I have to. A fellow's got to have something to come home to - that's what gets him to twenty five. That and silver dollars and St. Christophers.

"Oh, get over here." She pulled him in to kiss him, her hand gentle on the belt of his jacket, and he did not say no, merely accepted her ministrations with all the pleasure they intended.

"Quit rubbing it in, John."

"Rubbing what in?" Bucky asked with a grin, knowing full well what Gale meant when he said it - rubbing in having a girl who was here in England to be held and kissed and shown off to advantage. But his arm remained around Cord's waist, one more good luck charm he shouldn't have gambled with and would not like to be without.

[five-rivers]

Flitter

AO3

For @echoghost1 and @kawaiijohn

(Also, I would love to have a better name for this fic if anyone can think of one.)

It sounded ridiculous in retrospect, but the shoes were the first sign.  

"Danny, please, we've been here for over an hour.  Pick a pair."

"I'm trying," said Danny, staring across his empire of discarded shoe boxes (he was thinking about calling it Shoelandia).  "None of them feel right."

"Of course none of them feel right," said Maddie.  "They're brand new.  You'll break them in as you wear them.  Just get the pair that feels the least off."

Danny grumbled to himself as he tried to remember which one that was.  There had been a wide one near the beginning, before the salespeople gave up on them…  There!  He lunged across a heap of boxes to secure the sadly orange shoes.  

"Great," said Maddie, clearly relieved.  "Let's go check out and you can put them on before we go out to the car."

"But–"

"If I let you wear those any longer, people will wonder if I'm neglecting you."

Danny followed her pointed finger to his reliable red shoes, which weren't that bad.

Okay, they were that bad.  Ghost hunting plus teenage growth spurts were not friendly to footwear, it seemed.  

Fine.  

.

The next sign was his skin.  As in, there was something wrong with it.  Danny didn’t like to brag, but he had pretty good skin.  It wasn’t perfect - whose was? - but he didn’t get a lot of acne and he definitely didn’t get chapped hands or whatever this was.  

Disgusted and fascinated all at once, he peeled off another thin layer of skin from the back of his hand.  

“What is this?”

“I don’t know, man,” said Tucker.  “Did you get sunburned or something?”

“No,” grumbled Danny, peeling more skin from his arm.  “I haven’t even seen the sun this week.”

“A ghost sunburn?”

“I don’t even know what that’s supposed to mean,” whined Danny, rubbing the back of his hand.  The skin there felt weird.  

“No, it’s probably normal,” said Sam. “Stuff like that sometimes happens to me if I, like, get really sweaty in the pool.”  She wrinkled her nose.  “Not quite that much, though.  Please tell me you aren’t going to just leave that on the floor.”

“You know, most household dust is dead skin cells, so it’s not like-”

Sam snatched the tissue box from Danny’s bedside table and threw it at him.  “You’re disgusting.”

Danny sighed and stood up, mincing his way to the corner of the room his dustpan lived in.  

“You know, most people take their shoes off inside,” said Tucker.  

“Most people don’t live with two mad scientists.  Going barefoot is dangerous.”

“Three,” corrected Sam.  “Jazz is going into STEM, too, right?”

“My point is, if your shoes are bothering you that much, you don’t have to wear them.”

“I know, I know, but I’m trying to break them in.”  He swept up the sheets of peeled skin.  “Happy?”

“Never.”

Danny threw the tissue box back at her.  

.

The third sign… Well.  It wasn’t so much a sign as an avalanche of signs.  

.

Danny woke up sore.  Not unusual, considering his extracurriculars, but annoying.  Had he even fought a ghost yesterday?  Things had been calming down, lately.  He’d even been able to keep up with homework…  

There had been Boxy… Boxy didn't count unless he showed up more than three times.  So.  No.  He was just aching for no reason.  

Ugh.  

Puberty sucked.  

Why couldn’t he have gotten it over with in middle school like Dash and the other meatheads?

He untangled himself from his bedsheets and forced his aching feet into his house slippers.  Not the safest choice, but he didn’t want to deal with his still-new, still-orange shoes.  Eyes still half closed (it was too early to be this bright) he made his way down to the kitchen.  

"Danny!  Your hand!"

“Hwuh?  Wha?”

“Did you break a pen or something?” asked Maddie, pulling his hand up and turning it over.  

“No?” said Danny, deciding he should try to be at least slightly more awake.  He forced his eyes open and looked at his hand.  

The tips of his fingers, from his first knuckle halfway down to his second, were black, the color shading to blue and then peach before it reached his palms.  It was hard to tell with the color change, but the shape of his nails was also subtly off.  

He pulled his hand back, then raised his other one.  It was the same.  

This was some crazy ghost thing, wasn’t it?  And he’d just walked straight to his trigger-happy ghost hunting parents like someone with a death wish–

“Danny,” said Maddie, “Danny, don’t panic.  Jack, dear, can you go down to the lab and get the quarantine protocol ready?  Okay.  Danny, have you noticed any other changes?  Do you feel anything else strange?”

Danny shook his head.  He’d just woken up.  He hadn’t even noticed this.

“Really?  Nothing?  Not even body pains, soreness, that kind of thing?”

“Maybe a little,” admitted Danny.  “I thought it was just growing pains…  I don’t know what this is.”

“We might,” said Maddie, lowering her goggles.  

“Really?  You know what this is?” asked Jazz.  Danny hadn’t even noticed her in the room.  “Please tell me this isn’t because of one of your inventions.”

"Well, not exactly, but… last week, we were working with an ecto-irritant in the lab," explained Maddie.

"A what?" asked Jazz, suspicion still lacing her tone.  

"It's supposed to cause transformations in ghosts," said Maddie.  "Unexpected ones.  Hijack their shapeshifting abilities.  But it does have some impact on highly ectocontaminated people as well…"

"Ectocontaminated people?" repeated Jazz.  "Should I be worried?"

"No, you aren't nearly contaminated enough."

"Isn't that what you thought about Danny, too?"

Maddie rubbed her face.  "We'll run some tests."

"Where did you even get this, anyway?" asked Danny, hoping that would explain at least some of… everything.  

"Vladdie!" said Jack, coming back up the stairs.  “We were testing it for him!”

Wow.  That really did explain everything.  Screw Vlad.  

"Well, one of his R&D labs developed it.  They wanted to use it as a ghost repellant.  He asked us to do some independent tests, first, but if it does this to regular people like Danny…"

Yes, that was totally what Danny was.  Absolutely regular.  No ghost powers here.  

Maddie shook her head and turned to Jack.  “Do you have the quarantine set up?”

“Sure do!” said Jack.  “Come on down, Danno, we’ll get you fixed up in a jiffy!”

“It… might be a little longer than that,” said Maddie, putting her hand on Danny’s back and steering him towards the door down into the lab.  

“But you do know how to undo this, right?” asked Danny.  

“Well, in theory,” said Maddie.  “It wasn’t something we were really interested in when we were testing it on ghosts.”

Of course it wasn’t.

“Do you at least know what it’s transforming him into?” asked Jazz, following them down into the lab, her breakfast thoroughly abandoned.  

“That’d be the other reason we were going to advise Vladdie against it!”

“What, you don’t know?” asked Jazz, aghast.

“Nope!  Seemed pretty random!  Half the time, we got these fluffy little blobs, and the rest of the time they turned into real monsters!  Not good for a repellant at all!”

“Great,” said Danny.  “Love knowing that I’ll either turn into a blob or a monster.  Really love that for me.”

Maddie squeezed Danny’s shoulder.  “Don’t worry, we’ll figure it out before then.”

Danny had doubts.

.

Beyond the persistent ache, whatever was happening to Danny didn’t really hurt.  Which was good!  Don’t get him wrong, he didn’t want it to hurt.  But if it did hurt, it might have been easier to tell what was changing.  

Right now, it was mostly his family members noticing things, not him.  Jack had gotten the full length mirror from the master bathroom, so he could, in theory, help that way.  Just staring at himself in a mirror looking for problems seemed kind of messed up, though, and he was, maybe just a little, still in denial.  

The stain on his fingers was also on his toes, creeping halfway up his foot.  His parents were still looking at x-rays of them, arguing about whether or not their structure had been changed.  Danny wasn’t sure, but he felt like both his fingers and toes were longer.  

The blackened skin was also hardening into something almost chitinous and fusing to his nails at the tips.  It made him feel like he should put a toothpick under his nails to clean them out.  

But it also felt weirdly satisfying to drum his newly-hardened fingers against things.  

“Time for the blood test!” exclaimed Jack, making Danny flinch.  “Gotta see how much of the irritant is in you!”

“Right,” said Danny, smiling nervously.  “Gotta see that.”

Jack faltered.  “Oh, Danno, your teeth…”

Danny raised his hand to his mouth.  Yep.  He had teeth.  Specifically, he had canines that were almost twice as long as usual and felt sharp even through his toughened skin.  

“Let’s… let’s get that blood draw done, okay, sport?”

“Yeah,” said Danny, also shaken.  He hadn’t noticed. That was in his mouth and he hadn’t noticed.  

Jack carefully cleaned a spot inside Danne’s elbow with an alcohol wipe and slid in the slender needle.  “Don’t feel lightheaded or anything, do you?”

“Nope,” said Danny.  It would take a lot more than that to make him feel lightheaded.  

“That’s good.”  He withdrew the needle.  “Okay!  Half for the centrifuge, half for the microscope!”

“Don’t forget the test strips!” said Maddie.  

“Oh, yeah!”

Danny returned to angstily zoning out, this time tapping his fingers against his teeth.  Then the centrifuge started up.  

It sounded like an ice pick driven through his brain.  He shrieked and covered his ears.  

“Danny?!”

“It’s too loud!”

Someone shut off the centrifuge.  Cautiously, he removed his hands from his ears.  

“Okay,” said Maddie.  “Okay.  Let’s… take a look at your ears.  Jazz, can you get the noise canceling headphones?  The ones you got me for Christmas last year?”

“Sure,” said Jazz.  

As Maddie went through a number of hearing tests that Danny did his best to cooperate with, the brightness of the lab’s overhead lights rapidly climbed to ‘unbearable.’

“Your eyes, too?” asked Maddie.  

Danny moaned in response.  

“Oh, sweetie,” she said, brushing some of his hair back behind his ear.  It tickled.  His ear flicked.  He decided not to think too deeply about that.  “Here, Jazz has the headphones… Why don’t you take a nap for now?  We’ll wake you up if anything else big changes, or if we find anything out, okay?”

“Okay,” said Danny.  “Not much else to do if I’m sitting with my eyes closed and my ears plugged, I guess.”

“It’s going to be alright,” said Maddie.  “We’ll probably have everything worked out before you know it.”

.

Danny woke up to the vague sense of someone moving around near him.  

“Hm?” he said, sleepily.

“Don’t worry, Danno!” said Jack in an exaggerated whisper.  “I’m just bunking down here with you tonight!  Jazzy thought that, eh, we needed a break.”

“Mm,” said Danny, opening his eyes just a sliver to see Jack setting up one of the Fenton Folda-Cots nearby.  He sat up and stretched.  His spine felt… different.  Good.  Like it fit together different, better.  

“Oh, you don’t need to get up, Danny, I’ve got this handled,” said Jack, rearranging his bedding.  

“Mm,” said Danny again.  He opened his mouth to ask what had happened while he’d been asleep and got distracted by how long his canines felt now.  

Concerned, he raised his hands to feel out his face.  There were two hard little bumps right at his hairline that curved upward.  Was he growing horns?  He put the question to the side and brought his hands sideways to his ears, questing under the noise canceling headphones.  They were long, droopy, pointed and fuzzy.  

Somehow, Danny didn’t think this was what Tucker meant when he said that someday he’d turn Danny into a furry.  

He started patting himself down.  Were those scales on his shoulders?  No, no, don’t think about it.  Further…

That was a tail.  A long tail.  It was fluffy.  It was… the change he had felt with his spine, darn it.  

So much for waking him up for big changes.  

“Danny?  Are you okay?”

“No, I’m not,” Danny said.  Tried to say.  His mouth went through the motions, but all that came out of his throat was a series of chirps.  He started to shake, but before he could work himself up too much, Jack pulled him into a hug.  

“It’s going to be okay, Danno,” he said, patting Danny’s back.  “Just take a deep breath.  Everything will be better in the morning.”

Danny snuggled closer, taking in the warmth.  Something in his chest that had not been there that morning began to purr.  

If this ecto-irritant thing was turning him into some kind of messed up cat, Danny was going to murder Vlad.  

.

Things were not better in the morning.  In fact, they were worse.  Not in that his body had changed more in the night (which it had.  He’d woken up with patchy black and white markings all over his body, ears too large to fit under the noise canceling headphones, and the beginnings of extra limbs growing under his arms), but in that Vlad had decided to show up.  After Jazz had already gone to school, too.  

“When I heard what had happened to young Daniel I just had to come,” said Vlad.  “I’ve brought all the research from the development team, of course, and I want to offer my own expertise.”

“Great!” said Jack.  “With your help, we should fix this in record time!”

Somehow, Danny doubted that.  He was tempted to flip Vlad off while Jack’s back was turned and Maddie was focused on the research, but that would require moving and growing extra limbs was exhausting.

“I certainly hope so.  I would hate to have this progress any further.”

Translation: Vlad would love to have it progress further and he knew exactly what it was progressing to.  

“But I believe that between the three of us and Daniel’s cooperation, we can overcome this.”

Translation: Vlad wanted something from Danny.  

A siren went off upstairs.

“Oh, my,” said Vlad.  “Is that the mayoral ghost alert hotline?  You’d better go answer it.”

What the heck?  They still had that?

“But Danny–”

“I can keep an eye on him and compare my research to what you’ve already done,” said Vlad.  “You should go.  There may be lives at stake with an evil ghost running loose.”

“This is the first time they’ve called, Mads,” said Jack.  “We should at least see what kind of ghost it is.”

“Oh, alright,” said Maddie.  “But call us if anything - and I do mean anything! - changes.”

“Of course, Maddie,” said Vlad, smoothly.

Danny watched nervously as his parents both ran upstairs, leaving him alone with his archnemesis.  

“So,” said Vlad, “you’re probably wondering what I want.”

Danny turned away.  

“I understand that you think your parents will find a solution,” said Vlad, conversationally.  “So.  You could listen to me… or I could stage a ghost attack that will destroy every last bit of research they have on your transformation and the ‘ecto-irritant.’”

Danny jumped to his feet - and was immediately knocked down by one of Vlad’s duplicates and held there, too weak to do anything else.  He tried to call up his ghost form, but he just didn’t have the energy.  

“It would be easy.  So you could listen.  Or not.”

Danny glared up at him.  

“Good.  It seems like you’re listening.  As you might imagine, I know how to fix your little problem.  In exchange, I only want one thing.”

Danny made the best questioning sound he could, under the circumstances.  Vlad smirked.  

“I wish for you to accompany me to an event I’ve been invited to, as an attendant.”

He could not be serious.  

“Oh, I’m quite serious.  This isn’t a human event, after all, and your appearance is part of the dress code.”  Vlad hummed.  “You’re confused.  I can see it on your face.”

No duh.  Because everything Vlad said was mental.

“Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of the Fey?  Fairies?  The Fair Folk?  Hm?  Don’t give me that look.  I know that you’ve personally fought unicorns.”

Yeah, and they were bloodthirsty monsters.  What was Vlad’s point?

“The Infinite Realms are infinite, Daniel.  I would quote the Shakespere, but you’re no Horatio, and I know you’re failing English.”

Screw him.  Danny had met Shakespere, and he’d seen Hamlet performed by ghosts.

“The Fey are quite real, in any case, and they have certain social standards.  Persons of high rank are expected to have appropriate garb, weaponry, servants…”  He trailed off, looking significantly at Danny.  

He had to be kidding.  

But Vlad wasn’t looking at him, and therefore was not given the benefit of the full force of the most incredulous expression he could muster.  Instead, Vlad was opening his briefcase and pulling out a tablet.  He turned it on and showed it to Danny.  

There was a picture on the screen of a roughly humanoid creature with bright pink skin, large dark eyes, four arms, a furry, fluffy tail longer than it was tall, fuzzy moth-like wings, fern-shaped antennae, and long, soft-looking ears.  The image didn’t give any scale, but it felt small, with disproportionately large head, feet, and hands.  Their hands and feet were covered in black.  

“This is what the higher-class servants look like.  Look familiar?” 

Vlad’s stupid face was so smug Danny would bet that there was a smugness shortage somewhere else in the world.  

“You wouldn’t have to do much beyond follow my instructions and remain at my side while there.  The event is only a few nights long.  I’ll be back in a few days to pick you up - in a way that will keep your parents from guessing anything, of course - once you’re done getting ready.”  Another, smugger, grin spread over Vlad’s face.  “You can decide whether or not to cooperate then, but I urge you to do so.  After all, I doubt you want to be stuck like this forever.”  He stood up and two more duplicates materialized behind him.  “Now, I have a ghost attack to stage.”

.

Danny’s parents completely bought Vlad’s ghost attack story because, well, it had been a ghost attack.  Technically.  The ghost was just Vlad.  And they were terrible at charades.  

Okay, maybe Danny was terrible at charades, too, but come on.  He deserved a break.  It wasn’t like he was getting one in anything else.  

The scales on his shoulders were developing into wings.  His tail was getting longer and fluffier.  The hard, black, nail-like substance on his fingers and feet was creeping upward to his wrists and ankles.  His second set of arms was getting bigger, longer.  His teeth were getting sharper.  What was left of his voice was gone, replaced by something that quietly chirped and purred deep in his chest.  The ‘horns’ on his head were growing into fuzzy antennae.  His hearing and sight were so oversensitive he wanted to just burrow into a pile of blankets and stay there.  He was shrinking.  

His parents were beside themselves.  And they kept having to go take care of minor ghost attacks.  

He wrapped his tail around him and curled deeper into his blankets.  This transformation business was exhausting.  Or maybe it was just that what he was getting turned into that was exhausting.  

He looked at the mirror.  He looked awful.  Sick.  The domino-mask black streak across his eyes didn’t help with that impression.

He was going to have to take Vlad up on his offer.

.

“It’s really quite remarkable, the system the Fey have,” pontificated Vlad after he had ‘extracted’ Danny from the lab.  “Their various castes are perfectly suited for their assigned tasks.  They’re designed that way.  Born that way, usually.  For example, the form that you yourself are taking at the moment?  A perfect servant for the High Fey.  Many hands to work and hold and serve, wings, to ensure they can follow everywhere, sharp eyes the better to see things that need to be cleaned or repaired, sharp ears the better to hear orders, attractive enough to be decorative, but not distracting.”

First off: Ew.  Secondly: Vlad really liked to hear the sound of his own voice, didn’t he?

“Antennae,” continued Vlad, “to ensure harmonious movement with other servants.  Now, the High Fey, who I most resemble…”

Danny tuned him out, instead choosing to watch the green clouds of the Ghost Zone roll by.  The way they were traveling was actually pretty interesting.  Vlad had gotten a chariot somewhere and hooked it up to his flying goon squad, AKA the inexplicably yiddish vultures.  

They were flying in a direction Danny had never been in before.  The islands and doors they were passing were new, strange.  Floating trees and strange stone circles dominated the ecto-scape.  As they continued, they tended to floating forests and island-hills with formations of standing stones.  

Vlad, meanwhile, continued talking.  

“... of course, animal servants are considered gauche - too human, too mortal.  And the farmer caste is entirely different…”

Danny tuned him out again.  

A great mountain was rising up out of the trees around them, its sides gray and silvery.  There was a circular hole in its face, the edges of it studded with slabs like the ones he’d seen earlier in the standing-stone circles.

They looked like teeth.

The chariot flew right through them.  

On the other side was light - but this light didn’t hurt his eyes.  There was no sun in the sky, only a moon floating over a twilight purple-blue backdrop.  Green lawns stretched in all directions, stopping against tall, green trees and the glittering walls of a literal fairy-tale castle.  

Other chariots were sweeping down to the drive of the castle, tall, colorful beings fluttering out of them, escorted by shorter fluttering beings.  

Like Danny.  

There was a buzzing– No, not quite a buzzing, but what else could he call it? – in… in Danny’s antennae.  He rubbed their bases, wary of directly touching the delicate fronds.  

“Don’t fight it,” said Vlad, jovially.  “After all, you aren’t trained as a servant.  You’ll need all the help you can get.”

Danny glared at him, but the expression was unusually hard to form.  

“See?  At this point, you would usually be calling me names.  Lovely, isn’t it, that you can’t?  No way for careless servants to make unwise deals or spread secrets with loose lips - their loyalty is reserved for their High Fey lords.”

Vlad really, really liked the sound of his own voice.  

If this worked on fairytale rules like Vlad was suggesting, he was screwed.  

His head felt really weird.  

The chariot landed, and Danny jumped out, not even quite thinking about what he was doing, and swung around to Vlad’s door, opening it so Vlad could step out, his even-flashier-than-usual cape billowing behind him.  

“Very good, Daniel.  See?  Keep things up, and I’ll make sure you get back to your… admittedly less-useful regular body.”

.

Danny padded behind Vlad, hating how tall everything here was and how short he himself was like this.  He’d earned his five-foot-five stature with a lot of hard work!  Right now, he wasn’t sure how tall he was, but he felt that it was closer to four feet than five.  

It was not a great feeling.  

He really didn’t like this.  

He stayed close.  Rather, he stayed at the distance the little itch in the back of his head told him was appropriate.  Meanwhile, Vlad smarmed about with literally sparkling people.  They were all so tall, with inhumanly sharp features and wings far more colorful and varied than Danny’s or those of his fellow servants.  

Fellow servants.  

He folded his hands behind him as well as he could, given his wings.  This was temporary.  It was.  

And then one of the tall people was right in front of him, fingers under his chin, tipping his head up, examining him with many-colored eyes, tilting his head back and forth.  He took a step back.  

The person - the fey? - turned to say something to Vlad.  Their voice sounded like it was underwater.  Meanwhile, a small servant with the same coloration as the person talking to Vlad stepped forward and regarded Danny curiously.  

They were a solid two inches taller than Danny right now.  He turned his head away.  The other servant stepped into his field of view again, and the feeling of being observed redoubled.  

“Daniel,” said Vlad sharply.  

Danny hurried to follow him.  

“Now, you see,” said Vlad, to the small group of fey he had gathered around himself, “I am more than capable, and I can serve as your link to the human world.  We can bring in materials, performers, art, artists… anything you can think of.”

Some of the fey nodded.  Others looked dubious.  

“And at whose discretion would you direct these imports?” asked one.  

Danny blinked, somehow surprised he could understand this fey when he… when he couldn’t understand any of the others.  

He really didn’t like this.  

He liked it even less when the fey made eye contact with him.  

“At the discretion of whoever secured my services,” said Vlad, “and the high king, of course.  With, perhaps, a few scruples for myself.”  He raised his glass.  

“Very well,” said the fey.  “I shall sponsor you, as you say.  But one gift must be exchanged for another.”

“Anything in my possession that I can– Daniel, stop that at once!”  Danny dropped Vlad’s cape and shook his head vehemently.  That was a bad kind of promise to make.  Especially when it could be argued that Danny was in his possession.  

“Perhaps I could take that unruly servant off your hands.”

“Ah,” said Vlad, getting a clue.  “Perhaps not.  Might the gift be your first delivery instead?”

The fey hummed.  “Perhaps.  We have much to discuss.”  

.

“I suppose you were not a terrible servant tonight,” said Vlad as they flew away in the chariot.  “Are you sure you don’t want to practice a little longer?”

Danny tried to scowl at him, but it was becoming harder and harder to make any expression that wasn’t neutral and pleasant.  Apparently, his transformation hadn’t quite been finished yet.  

“I suppose I should tell you how to reverse your transformation,” said Vlad.  “But it will be so much more fun to show you.”

What did that mean?

A duplicate appeared behind Danny, grabbed the wings he was only just beginning to get used to, and severed them with a sharp-edged ecto-construct.  

Danny shrieked.  

Because he could shriek.  The transformation that had taken days, gone in a moment.

“See?” said Vlad.  “Easy.”

“What the heck, you jerk!”

“Tut tut tut–”

“Who even says that–”

“If you want to get home safely, you should reconsider attacking me.  I am the one who knows how to get back.”

Danny sat down in a huff.  

“Now, let’s start discussing the cover story we will tell your parents about our adventures, hm?”

[thatfreshi]

"You Better Tell Me" (Uni AU P. 5)

You get invited to the rooftop for a smoke sesh with Shadowheart and Gale

tw - weed (reader does not partake), athletic injuries, hints at grooming

@justporo

Soon after, the group fizzles out, starting with Shadowheart saying she doesn't want to be late to church. You weren't really expecting the whole religious thing with her, but hey, if it floats her boat. Gale says he has to meet with Mystra about his thesis project, and Lae'zel heads back to the room, leaving you free to do whatever you want.

So, you spend the day walking around looking for your classes, getting used to campus, finding the cozy places to study. The library is extravagant, filled with books from the past century, with a full online database. You even stop by the pool, which is full of swim team athletes preparing for the upcoming season.

After walking around all day, you come back to the dorm room, exhausted. Shadowheart however, is leaving.

"Oh, Tav! You should come with me! Gale and I are having our weekly smoke sesh. You don't have to smoke, but we like to chill out and talk about all the shit we've heard recently."

Without even really thinking about it, you put down your bags from the bookstore and follow her out the door.

"I thought we couldn't smoke on campus?"

She smirks, leading you to the staircase.

"Well, that's the nice part of being best friends with one of the RAs, their master keys work on the roof door."

As if on cue, Gale shows up behind the two of you.

"Good evening."

Fumbling with his key ring, he opens the door for the two of you to get onto the roof. It's a little chilly this high up. The lights of the city are apparent over the edge of the roof.

"You got Tav to join us?"

"I guess so. We're just cool Gale, we have to accept it."

The two laugh as Shadowheart takes a small plastic baggie out of her tote bag. Like clockwork, the two get to work rolling.

"You want one?"

You shake your head at him.

"No thanks. Honestly just hear to listen to all the gossip."

"See, I knew I liked you."

Shadowheart smiles, taking out her lighter.

"So, what do you want to know?"

You're all sitting on top of one of those electrical boxes, one that clearly isn't in use anymore. You hesitate, knowing you probably will get weird looks for your question.

"Lae'zel... what happened to her leg?"

Gale sighs, and Shadow goes to pull up a video somewhere in her camera roll. The two don't speak, instead showing you a video of a track meet from the previous year. You watch as Lae steps the wrong way, taking a nasty fall, the video picks up the scream she lets out on the track. Gale is the first to speak up.

"She fucked up her entire leg. Started as a sprained ankle, but she tried to keep going. Ended up tearing up her hamstring, and eventually tore the connection between her leg and her foot. Couldn't walk for months."

"Lae'zel doesn't like to talk about it though. She was supposed to be in the Olympics next year, but no amount of physical therapy has worked. As much as she pisses me off, I feel bad talking about it sometimes. Her whole family is full of famous athletes, and now she can't even play her sport anymore."

You weren't expecting the conversation to get so sad so fast, but it is tragic. The idea that you spend your whole life working towards something, and you can lose it all so fast.

"That fucking sucks."

Almost immediately changing the mood, Shadowheart lets out a gasp.

"Wait. Okay before I show you all this: Gale, Tav and Astarion fucked."

His eyes immediately fill with shock.

"I'm sorry. You, and that man, had sex? When?!"

"Ugh, last night. It was stupid and complicated, and then this morning I screamed at him."

"Yeah, and then he left crying. I don't think I've ever seen him cry."

The guilt bubbles back up again, unsure if you did the right thing. Before you can ask the group why they all hate him so much, Shadowheart shows you a paparazzi picture.

"Apparently this was taken earlier today. Looks like somebody's mad at Daddy, boohoo."

You almost ignore her mocking tone. It's Astarion and Szarr in the photos, having what looks like an intense argument at an outdoor shoot.

"You think he'd figure out how to stop complaining by now."

Gale takes another puff, coughing a little.

"Why are you guys so mean to him?"

Shadow almost doesn't know how to answer you.

"I mean, you've met him. He's just some rich kid piece of shit Tav."

"You should've seen him, at the party."

Gale perks up.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know, the whole thing just makes me feel sick. Like something isn't right, but I don't know what. I met one of the other models, Aurelia, and she was being super cryptic and scary."

The two are fully staring at you now.

"And I met Szarr. He's a full-on creep, gave me this weird kiss on the hand. It was gross, but Astarion? He was like tense. I don't know, it just felt wrong."

"Yeah, but Astarion's been modeling for like six years now. I'm sure he knows the industry well enough to avoid people if they're truly bad people."

It's clear Shadow has made up her mind, but you're still not so sure. Before you can say anything else, she's trying to look at Gale's phone.

"Who are you blushing at?! Is there some lover I don't know about?"

He snatches his phone from her.

"Okay, I'll tell you if you stop trying to take my shit. I may or may not be seeing someone, as of today. BUT, she wants to keep it private for now, so no you can know!"

"Come on, please! I'm your best friend."

"As soon as I can, I'll tell you. But for now, please respect her privacy."

Shadow dramatically rolls her eyes, taking another hit.

"Fine, but as soon as I can know, you better tell me!"

The three of you talk about some other random stuff for the next hour or so. Within that hour, the photos of Astarion and Szarr are wiped from the internet, much to Shadowheart's disappointment. You tune out for a lot of the conversation, thinking about just how much shit you've already gotten yourself into. Although, you'll most definitely be back for next week's smoke sesh. Besides, you need all the help you can get with just how wild this place seems to be.

[rapunziedameron]

Okay, I want to talk about something today. Last week, I was skimming through the tlj novelization, and came across a passage that made me frown, and I mentally added it to a growing pile of canon quotes that give me the ick.

It's absolutely no secret that Poe gets objectified to hell and back in this fandom, and has ever since tfa. The popular fanon at the time was that he was the best fuck on base and had probably fucked everyone (except Snap. Important distinction there no one ever assumed he'd fuck Snap. Can't imagine why the fat man was the single exclusion but that's a separate issue), and even today, there's still a lot of gross latin lover tropes swimming around in fics, and Certain Popular Pairings certainly have no issues fetishizing him.

But it's become a thing in canon also, and the more I uncover of it, the more uncomfortable I get. Screenshots under the cut. TW: discussions of sexual harassment, objectification, suicide, and allegorical rape.

The first time I really noticed it was reading Resistance Reborn by Rebecca Roanhorse; this book is foul for about a fazillion different reasons (racism, sexism, ableism), and I've only read it once because of how upset and sick it made me feel to read, but essentially, the writer is quite clear in that she dislikes Poe Dameron deeply — calling him supremely arrogant in every other interview for tbe story — and you can tell that her thoughts towards him in this book is "i hate him, but he is attractive".

Poe goes through the meat grinder, she instills in him a nearly uncharacteristic amount of self loathing, and uncharitably has Maz Kanata physically assault him because he doesn't want to talk about his issues, and pin him down and compare his "arrogance" to the arrogance of Neo-Nazis. Yeah. And then later, a man named Stronghammer informs the Resistance that Poe should be killed, by being thrown out of an airlock, for his mutiny. Horrifically, Roanhorse has most of the Resistance agree (this ruined my feelings towards post tlj era for a long time), and has Poe point blank admit he'd commit suicide in a heartbeat if it'd stop the First Order, which no one except Finn shows any concern towards (and...pot meet the kettle baby you've tried killing yourself every movie).

The context for this is important, because after Maz physically assaults him, and Stronghammer announces he wants Poe killed, this happens:

And certainly, Resistance Reborn has an ongoing problem of objectifying Poe (a running gag about his hair, a joke about the size of his cock, a convoluted as hell excuse to get him to jump into a pool in a tux), but this one feels especially the worst because the two people who have recently physically assaulted/threatened him are now coming onto him, which Poe is clearly made uncomfortable by — enough so that Leia swoops in and changes the subject.

It's harassment, played off for laughs, because we all know Poe is handsome so of course, Maz and Stronghammer would admit that it's one of his strong points, right? And it wouldn't fly if it was someone else in Poe's place, like a white woman, but because he's a man of color, it's just a funny gag because we've all seen Poe Dameron's face, and we agree it's handsome.

But it's far from the last time Poe being reduced to his looks happens, and nor is it the only time that it goes from "objectified by the narrative" and into the realm of "hey that's sexual violence/harassment".

The most benevolent example is in Spark of the Resistance, when Poe is recognized by a stormtrooper specifically because "who else has that hair". And then the origins of Maz believing Poe is handsome, is evidently the Last Jedi novelization by Jason Fry:

and that's not even an accurate statement he's in charge of an entire flight wing and is a capable field agent but whatever.

I haven't read all the way through that novel to see if there's more of that attitude prevalent in it, but at this point it wouldn't surprise me, because it also pops up, at its absolute worst, in the Force Awakens novelization:

The implied threat of sexual violence is shocking (it definitely threw me for a loop when I was rereading) and it's especially awful when you consider one of the first incidents to happen in the trilogy is Poe being mind-raped by Ren; he's violated horribly and painfully (it's described as silent agony in the novelization), and it certainly makes an already gross habit of reducing Poe to his attractiveness, even more awful when you remember he is a victim of allegorical rape — and we, the audience, are expected to laugh along, at least in the case of Resistance Reborn, because Poe Dameron is hot, remember? It's his best quality, that makes us able to stand his other less than ideal character traits, so of course it's okay if we objectify him or have characters in-universe harass him after attacking him (this is sarcasm, for the record. Extremely bitter sarcasm).

It says a lot that instead of ever getting any meaningful acknowledgement of what Poe underwent with Ren, the way he was horribly violated, authors time and time again just heave a sigh and start waxing poetry about how sexy Poe is, and now it's canonical he's been subject to repetitive sexual harassment/threats (Maz and Stronghammer, then Naka, respectively) after being violated by Ren in the worst possible way.

But am I surprised when even the torture scene gets grossly sexualized by folks? Or watered down? Or people expect Poe to have to swallow his trauma and move on from it, for every other character's benefit? When everyone agrees Poe Dameron can be so annoying, but hey... he's easy on the eyes.

[jackienautism]

The fact if Nick was a yt girl and Emma was a guy y’all would lose your minds at the truth or dare scene, hate Emma and sympathize with Nick

(Not saying you have to like Nick it’s fine if you don’t) but the whole logic of “he could have gotten out of the situation but he didn’t” is kind of gross and giving victim blaming vibes??

Emma was there to see him express he was uncomfortable with kissing her but she still initiated it. He probably got awkward and too nervous to stop her. He’s also characterized as someone who “falls in line with others around him” so he most likely lacked the confidence to tell her to stop. Even shot of his face after Emma pulls away, he looks nervous and upset rather than pleased with the kiss.

And your whole logic of “he wants tits and ass” is so inaccurate it’s not even funny lol. He told Jacob to “don’t be gross” when Jacob implied something sexual between Nick and Abi. And the whole pool scene where Nick was saying weird stuff? Him saying “you smell so good” and “I want to taste you” means he LITERALLY wants to taste her. He’s a WEREWOLF. Not defending him in that scene and Abi had the right to be freaked out but I’m saying it’s not sexual. Even Evan Evagora, Nick’s actor, confirmed that he acted the way he did due to the infection and it’s not truly him (there are screenshots of an Instagram story he said that in that are floating around on tumble) so I have no idea where you got the idea that he wanted sex from Abi

what thje FUCK ar eyou even saying right now? ppl fucking HATE EMMA OVER THE TRUTH OR DARE SCENE???????? PPL BARELY SYMPATHIZE W/ HER??????????????? thats just in fucking accurate my guy. NO ONE EVER BRINGS UP NICK'S INVOLVEMENT THATS ALL IM FUCKING SAYING LMAO. PPL ALREADY HATE EMMA OVER IT LIKE I DONT KNOW WHAT THE FUCK YOURE TALKING ABOUT

victim blaming for WHAT? please TELL ME.

then why the hell was he there w/ his tongue down emma's throat?????? he didnt have to go all in and yet he did! and also, my friend, his arms / hands were wide fucking open ready for emma? and he also leaned in just as much as her????? ALL IM GODDAMN SAYING IS IT ANNOYS ME THAT PPL ALWAYS BLAME EMMA FOR WHAT HAPPENED. WHEN NICK WAS JUST AS INVOLVED. I DONT CARE WHAT YOU THINK HAPPENED. and i took the shot of his face being nervous or fucking whatever due to jacob literally screaming at them to stopl. and the fucking fact that he just kissed his "crush's" best fucking friend.

mauybe im wrong w/ that, i dont rly fucking care though. i dont care. i jsut took the infected nick as exposing hsi innermost desires. similar to what we've seen w/ the other characters, it makes them super vulnerable and whatever. and i just took some fo what infected nick was saying as him exposing himself! "easy pickins, right off the bone" yeah maybe that was just him being hungry bc hes a werewolf or whatevr but i took it that he was just going after abi bc shes an "easy" target. i dont rly care what the actor has to say sorry. i moreso care abt the writers but like sure i get it. since i like ace laura and ryan and i know both justice and siobhan talked abt it and i take their word for it. i hahd a better explanation as to why i thought nick wanted tits and ass butits been awhile since ive played and i forgot most of my thought process. anyway im gonna go kill myself now i guess.

[freeluigihesbae]

𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝔂𝓷𝓮𝓬𝓭𝓸𝓬𝓱𝓮 - 𝓬𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓽𝓮𝓻 4

fic summary:

the synecdoche is the agency we've seen in the movies. it's an agency that's real.

the reader is arya nitwa, code named riposte, who is a cold and calculated, terribly vulnerable but expert eccidetniest for her own good. she's a top ranking agent with her own team

luigi mangione, code named kismet, is cheery and clever, making his own marks in the agency after he loses the things that meant the most to him and hiding a pool of wounds beneath his smile.

arya and luigi cross paths for a new mission, where arya is forced to trust luigi while he is forced to heal. what happens when a forbidden love and a complex tangle of emotions comes to lie before their eyes?

chapter summary: walls are breaking and love is in the making.

𝗍𝗐: 𝗇𝗈𝗇𝖾

Muffled noises from outside of Arya's door make her blink with struggle as she tries to place herself. She's confused, not understanding why she's in a fetal position with a blanket on top.

Wait, why is there a blanket on her?

Arya sits up with a jolt, grabbing the soft blue blanket that was just covering her body. She lets her fingers press and feel around it, as though it could tell her what exactly happened last night. Shaking her head, she picks up the hair-tie lying on her side and ties her hair in haste before getting up and seeing a small pink paper slipped between her door. Her brows furrow as she takes cautious steps to unlock the door. The paper slides onto the floor before she senses sp,e food nearby.

Wait, it's right outside her door.

There's a cart outside with covered bowls and plates. Utterly confused, Arya chooses to stand and process what she was sensing: her stomach did the work for this one as she appreciated the smells of orange, chocolate, eggs, and spices that made her stomach scream hunger. Turning to look at the paper in her hands, she opens its neat, methodical folds before reading the note.

Riposte,

I'm not sure if you remember whAt happened last night, but just to give a recap, you fell asleep with your face in my cheek. It sounds pretty weiRd but honestly, I'm worried you might panic so I'm letting you know that I was happy to be there for you. Maybe you didn't see it as help and maybe you're angry that I came and made you lash out, but it seems like something broke within you. I'm especially honored that You're trusting me with such painful secrets. I don't expect you to come for a lesson today because you probably didn't get sleep, but I'll be waiting for you in room 312 at 3pm today. I'll be there for 15-ish minutes before leaving. I used one of my gifts for the year to get some food delivered to your door. I'm not sure what you like so I asked the kitchen to prepare what I usually get in a dAy.

I hope you trust me more.

I trust you too.

Kismet.

Arya's memories start flooding back. Luigi walking in. Telling her story. Crying. Screaming. His arms around her. Her scared he'd touch her. Her falling asleep. She's incredulous, wondering how she was able to let herself stand and feel…okay with having been vulnerable.

For the first time in 12 years, Arya tries but fails to fight back the smile that grows on her face. It could be much bigger - she could let her teeth show - but she doesn't. Instead, an ever-so slight curve graces her face as she presses the note to her chest. Perhaps it's the words, the length, the way he spelled out ARYA in such a stupidly childish and laughable manner that made this so thoughtful, or how he ordered all his meals for the day in a single gift. Or maybe, it's because he used the gift in the first place.

Gifts were an additional bonus every agent had with their daily meals. Kitchen was open to get whatever, whenever, but you could only order and keep the food for yourself, with the exception of gifts. Every agent had three gifts for the year where they could choose and send food of their choice to any agent or employee in the Synecdoche. Arya never used hers because she never felt the need and knew it wasn't frequent for others to use it either. But Luigi had chosen to use his and that touched her in a way she hadn't felt for over a decade.

Loved.

Suddenly the idea of trust didn't seem so far from her grasp. She saw goodness that was selfless and pure.

No, it wasn't.

Arya's head started pulsing again as wretched thoughts filled her mind. She pulled the cart inside before slamming the door and sinking to the floor. Not again not again. She held her arms up to her forehead, pressing herself against the door behind her and shouting curses, trying to stop the noise in her head.

"He's playing you." She hears a voice speak with a low, mischievous tone.

"He's not he's just being nice." Arya finds herself talking out loud, saying words she never thought she could utter again in her life.

"He just wants to make sure you dance before throwing you to the ways-" Arya gets up and slams her arm on the door before realizing she made a dent. But she couldn't give a care.

This situations was difficult since the Luigi had offered her a day of rest. In most cases and any other time, she would've taken it without any hesitation or care. But after what happened last night, two choices became clear: she could take rest and wallow in the comfort of the despair that eat away at her every single day, or walk out the door. Push her legs which feel heavy to walk into a room where her inner steel will dent or the stone will find itself vulnerable with more cracks and exchange her hiding place for a small, merely negligible chance at being happy.

She wanted happiness. She was still young. She was still deserving of good things. Arya places her fist in the dent, mumbling words to stop the evil from growing and creeping upon her. They wouldn't stop, but their volume certainly decreased. She found herself checking the time with a craze.

2:45pm.

She overslept, but that wasn't her concern. Ever since Brass had assigned the task of meeting with Luigi yesterday, she wasn't obligated to meet with her team unless they paged her or vice versa. She grabs her pager, squeezing her eyes shut whenever the words in her mind get too loud. Opening them, she sees there are 0 messages. Perfect, she thinks to herself, before she's running around the room, talking to herself so that she can bounce irregularity against the methodical madness in her mind and get out of the door. She had to leave this room. She had to. If she didn't leave, she'd be caging herself in again.

She wanted to be free from herself. If one thinks about it, leaving her room was an allusion to her leaving the shell she created for all these years. It would be as though she slipped through one of the several hundred cracks that appeared after last night's situation.

She throws on a wrapped, long sleeve top with sweatpants. She didn't have to be in uniform which meant outfits were to her discretion. She throws on foundation and powder, wondering why society couldn't accept a bare face for once before realizing nobody really asked her to put the makeup which then leads her to take it all off before she's panicking and oh-

3:09pm.

"FUCK!" Arya screams in frustration running around her room frantically, not even understanding what else she was supposed to pick up. She throws on some socks and shoes, tying them lazily before grabbing her pager and running the door.

"I'm leaving you." She whispers to herself quietly and opens the door halfway before stopping.

The hairpin.

She grabs it, giving it a kiss and placing it in her hair, wincing at her own force before closing the door.

Free, for now.

~

Arya finds herself sprinting down the hallway, successfully having made it out of her room and down the elevator to the third floor, only to realize 312 was the most hidden room on the floor.

3:15pm.

She feels another cry bubble up that she silences while keeping a straight face, telling herself over and over again that she'll see him. She runs down to the end of the shamelessly long hallway before throwing the door open to see

no-one.

The lights are off, with the exception of a crack of sunlight illuminating the dust that is floating around in the room as if nobody ever came. Arya steps inside, looking around the corners to see if there was a bag or any belongings, hoping he stepped outside but it was to no avail. Arya's face goes blank. She lets the emotion from her eyes dissipate into the air, freezing as she slowly hears voices.

"Nobody loves you."

"Why would he come? Why would he touch you?"

Arya grabs her head, feeling insulted by her own desperation. What did she expect would happen? She feel the cracks heal themselves, slowly suffocating her as one-by-one, it gets harder to breathe.

"Arya?" Arya's eyes widen and she stands up before turning right around. She swallows down the shock as she realizes Luigi's face is just about two inches away from hers. Luigi is staring at her, eyes darting around to understand why she was hunched over seconds ago. Instinctively, his hands raise to grab her shoulders but he hesitates before stepping back and stuttering, scratching the back of his neck. Arya finds her eyes widening and trying to reach for him before retracting and locking her hands behind her back.

Her expression returns to being thin and neutral with the exception of her eyes shying away from his.

"I-I'm sorry I didn't want to do anything I just wanted to comfort you." Luigi speaks with hesitation in his voice, gripping the strap of his bag while swallowing hard, fearing he may have startled her. Arya quickly steals a look into his eyes before swallowing and look away from him. She wants to tell him she was scared. That she was hearing voices. That she was afraid she wasn't worthy of his touch. That she was also afraid of his touch.

She look back into his eyes which are already looking at her with softness and concern, She parts her lips to speak, wanting to let the words fall and rest in his palms. But, she has manners.

And trust issues.

But she quiets the commotion in her head before saying "I got scared when I didn't see you here." Arya's hands reach to her throat, feeling her breath constrict at her confession. It was like that contaminated oxygen, the only air she had and lived with this entire time, was getting sucked out of her body every time she replayed the phrase she just uttered.

Luigi's eyes soften even more, impossible more, Arya thinks, as he watches her hand tighten around her throat. His eyes widen again, heart beating faster and faster before realizing she might be panicking again. He can't stop himself, grabbing her arm and pulling it away from her neck. Arya bites her lips and winces, bending her head down to somehow distance herself from him stepping so close and holding her arm. His grip is firm but forgiving, allowing her the freedom to pull away if she so chooses.

"Arya, we don't need to do this to-" "No matter what, Luigi, don't say no. Let me-" Arya interrupts Luigi, putting a finger up as he watches a frustration light up her eyes. "Let me find myself." Arya gulps, standing back before giving a quiet sorry. Luigi's confusion dissolves into a smile before he extends a hand, palm out just like the night before. Arya's face, previously steeled with self-loathe and confusion, melts into a ghost of a smile that she gives while staring into Luigi's eyes. He blinks, pushing his hand an inch closer to her, for which she slips her hand in quietly, before letting her lips curve up higher. Arya lets her eyes follow Luigi as they both step into the open room. It has mirror lining one wall while the other is wood, which makes Arya let out a sigh because something in this place isn't white.

"I was late which is why you didn't see me here. I'm sorry about that." Luigi stops walking, Arya following suit, before speaking. His hand is still holding hers, the two guiltily indulging in the softness of each other's skin. Arya listens intently, the small smile never leaving her face. "That's okay. I woke up 15 to 3pm so it took everything in me to sprint down here." Arya smiles wider and laughs before remembering the food. "Thank you for the gift, Luigi."

Luigi's eyebrows furrow before he lets out a chuckle. "The pleasure is mine after that conversation we had in the lounge room. I really needed someone besides my team members to talk to." He lets go of Arya's hand before placing it on her shoulder, imitating the barely-there pressure he exerted in the lounge that day. Her head slightly turns but goes back into place, unafraid.

"He'll leave at some point you bi-"

"Arya." She seems lost again, Luigi notes, before shaking her lightly. Arya looks up at him, a bit startled before giving a dry laugh.

"Sorry. Thinking." Arya waves her hand to brush her thoughts off.

"No problem." Luigi bends down to unzip his bag, making it nearly impossible for Arya to ignore his defined back, lending itself into an hourglass at his waist. Every imperceptible and perceptible shift in his actions creates an obvious change, highlighting how toned he was. Arya tries not to think too much of it, simply convincing herself that she was admiring his discipline.

He gets back up, carrying two water bottles and towels in his hand.

"I don't think we'll be needing this today, so don't worry yourself over the heap of school supplies I'm giving you." Luigi hands the items to Arya who inspects the items, before walking over and setting them down on a bench. She catches a glimpse of her eyes in the mirror and incredulously realizes that joy is a new, refreshing look on her.

"Thank you." Her back is turned to him when she says this, leading her to miss Luigi's stare. Her top is an open back, allowing him to see the skin beautifully gliding over the muscles that shift as she bends over and moves her arm. Every movement gives rise to said shifts. He tries, but he can't take his eyes off of her hazel and toned back. His eyes snap up in time, realizing what he's doing before he returns a soft you're welcome.

He steps over to the middle of the room before sitting down, ushering for Arya to come over. "Are you okay if we go by real names?" Arya walks over and crosses her legs while facing him. Doubt pangs in her stomach, half of her ready to playfully curse at him for giving her something to think about but she ignores the feelings inside of her. "Of course. I would've said something this entire time if I wasn't okay with it." She sees blush paint his cheeks. He's embarrassed to teach while she's finding it hard to try and learn. "I suppose I'm not the only nervous one here." Arya tilts her head innocently, looking at Luigi with a smile. It catches him off guard as he lets out a nervous laugh. He glances at Arya before answering. "That is true." He nods his head and raises an eyebrow. "Say, ever danced before?" Luigi asks with genuine curiosity.

Arya opens her mouth to answer. It's true because she has but not in the way he was thinking. She remembers on one and only one mission where she had to go undercover with Bastion. It was in a strip club…

It's going where you think it is.

Arya's mind was blown when she was told she had to go undercover as a literal stripper, but it was a bit easier since she was given the choice of song and dance. It was an easy task to rewatch the countless videos she chose, coming up with her own routine. There was no intimacy involved, rather, it was just her and the seduction she could muster up to exude from her twisting body. It's a memory that makes her laugh more than blush since she remembers having to whisper into Bastion's ear to play along and use him as bait to make their target jealous. Her legs had dipped over the stage, spotlight following her as she gave Bastion a lap dance. Bastion had half the mind to play along but the entire time, she could feel the absolute panic running through his system knowing he was the farthest thing from straight. She remembers having to lean into his ear and tell him to pretend like he was interested in fucking her, reminding him to think of Locutor in her place, which seemed to do the trick. Safe to say everyone but Locutor knew and Bastion got a bag of cackles thrown at him from Myriad and Gemini.

Arya realizes she's distracted before blurting out a "yes!"

Luigi raises his eyebrows before leaning in further, his interest piqued. "Really?" Luigi asks and Arya nods, realizing she doesn't want to hear the next question coming out of his mouth.

So she…answers it instead?

"I had to go undercover as a stripper." Arya slaps her hand over her mouth before Luigi's jaw drops, making her think his jawbone might detach. "What?" She swears a flicker of desire streaks across his eyes before getting replaced with shock. "Y-Yeah." Arya suddenly regrets everything and questions why she didn't lie.

Arya gulps. She hates to face it but some part of her was growing increasingly comfortable with Luigi, despite every distrusting instinct in her. Perhaps, part of her wanted to be vulnerable too.

Luigi wanted to ask her to dance for him, not realizing she'd tell him that stripping was her experience. He swallows hard. Should he ask? I mean, in this situation, it would actually be for educational purposes. The phrase wouldn't be used in vain so he tries his luck.

"W-Would you want to show me? You don't have to I swear it's just a matter of trying to let yourself be," Luigi visibly shakes before snapping his fingers, trying to find the right word. "Comfortable?" He royally fucks up and asks Arya like he's dying to see her routine (which he is but he can't actually reveal that can he?).

Arya blinks hard. At some point she'd have to get comfortable if she was going to conquer this mission. She could say no and move on, keeping close to her comfort but since this didn't involve any form of touching, it didn't seem like an unreasonable ask from his part. She remembers having to choregraph it and having no trouble performing on the stage, finding her own comfort and protecting her own dignity by her own means. Arya knows that as soon as someone having touch her and that too for an extended period of time is involved, she bows out.

"Sure." Arya turns to look around the room and there it is. A pole.

Something feels elementary about it. It's just a pole, a stick of steel that you dance around. Her mind flashes back to the countless times she had practiced the routine and suddenly, it doesn't seem so hard. She gets up before realizing she needs to change into tighter, more fluid clothing. Her top is fine but-

"I need to - uh - change?" Arya hesitates. Luigi is still reeling at the fact that she said yes, staring at her before fumbling and jumping to his feet. "I will be outside. Please just give me a nice, big holler." Luigi scurries out of the room, slapping himself the moment he steps outside to just calm the fuck down and relax. He was here to teach her, not fall in love. He bites his tongue, grounding himself.

Arya, meanwhile, slides her sweatpants off. It's habitual for her to wear her favorite high rise shorts, 3" inseam in a devastatingly navy blue shade, underneath any sweatpants she dons. She's got every color under the sun but she went with this color to compliment her baby blue top for today. She folds her sweatpants neatly, placing them on the bench. She struts over to the pole, letting her hands get habituated to the cool steel again, feelings the structure after almost a year. She had this mission a little over six months ago, but the routine was still fresh in her mind. She takes her shoes off, letting the socks cover her feet as she picks up a light jog. Her footsteps patter as she leans out of the door and Luigi is sitting down by the door.

"Hey. You can come in." Luigi, whose head was turned away from the door, whips around and smiles nervously. "You sure?" He's slowly getting up, feeling better once Arya nods. He watches her walk inside, taking note of the navy blue shorts she had on. He curses himself, unable to stop watching her fluid steps and carved body getting closer to the pole on the opposite side of the room. By habit, he places his hand on the door before freezing.

"Can I close the door? I can keep it open if you feel a-"

"Of course." Arya doesn't let him finish his question. He's being considerate, but the more doubt that gets seeded in her mind, the more it slows her down. Her mind is quiet as she watches Luigi pull out the controls for the speakers in the room. "Song?" Arya is hugging the pole, waiting for Luigi before remembering she can't dance without the song. She pauses before walking voer and scrolling through to search for the song. Luigi takes a few steps back before sitting on the floor again, in perfect vision of the pole.

"Arya, just remember that anytime you want to stop, just stop." Luigi is biting the inside of his lips, nervous she might have a breakdown. Arya looks over, smiling as she chooses the song and explains herself.

She sits down in front of him before talking.

"I don't mind doing this dance because I had learned and performed this myself. I choregraphed it start to end and since it doesn't really involve someone else touching me-" Arya is worried she's oversharing, but the focus Luigi places on her reassures her otherwise. "I'm okay with it. If someone else had to be involved, then I'd be in a different situation. I'm okay." Arya hesitates, but extends her hand, hoping he'd take it so he'd understand that she really was okay. Luigi looks, before holding her arm with care. She gives it a squeeze before getting up to hit play and running over to start.

Luigi holds his breath. He has no idea what to expect.

(song of choice: lana del rey - groupie love. i also found a pole routine that matches if you want to skip/follow along because i wrote this entire next section analyzing this person's routine- search up hedwig shackle's dirty diana performance for the 2021 elite provocateur elite!!)

Arya straightens out her body, chin tilted upwards ever-so slightly. She struts over, circling around before placing her right arm on the pole, spinning herself once. She runs her hands from her abdomen up to her chest in a painfully seductive motion.

Her right arm again grabs the pole, having it slightly twist before she pushes her hips up and back, letting her left arm trail from her thighs up to her lower back. Her hips push back up before her body twirls around, legs splitting open to swing to the right before letting her body is afloat in the air.

She delicately places her feet on the ground before continuing. It had only been a few second, but Luigi is already captivated, taking notice of her bones protruding near the dip from her stomach into her legs, all while appreciating the fluidity of her movement.

She sinks to the ground, right arm still grasping the pole as her left arm supports the weight, bending her left knee before opening her right leg up and to her side wide before repeating and folding over herself.

Her her backside faces Luigi as she gracefully draws a circle with the opposite leg to propel herself up and spin around again. Both arms grasp the pole now, as she eyes Luigi directly. Her left arm gives a slap on her skin before grasping the pole and twisting around to the front and expertly arching her back down so far, her face touches the ground.

Her stomach and legs come down to touch the floor for a fleeting second. In no time, she throws her head back and lifts herself up with a leg extending itself back and outwards before sitting on her hind legs, her body suavely gliding onto the floor as she pushes herself forward and up, yet again.

She twists around on her knees before her right arm is gripping the pole, right leg drawing a perfect circle as her body pushes back a few more inches with ease. Her left leg bends inward as her right extends, pulling her body up and across the distance between her torso and the steel, impossible strength keeping her in the air and moving through it. Her chest heaves and slides itself onto the pole before she's lunging and throwing her head back, moving her body around to stand and letting her neck fall back.

Her curves move with ease, showing off her toned, smooth muscles before dropping right onto her knees to kneel for a fraction of a second before balancing the opening of her legs on her back, curved to accommodate for the weight of her decision. She pulls her leg back, twisting around to now lay on her stomach behind the pole. Her ministrations and moves continue, drawing Luigi in every second at a time.

Luigi doesn't know what to think, but he does know he's going to lose his mind after this is all over. She moved like her entire body was sown with the finest silk, smooth and bending to the will of the music. The music seemed to wrap around her figure, pushing and pulling at her skin and limbs where it was appropriate. He watched her, fighting against the heat of her unknowing stares when they locked eyes. Her face contorted at just the right times, following the dips and sighs that were in the background of the song. Her back arched the perfect amount while her stability in the air kept drawing words away and away from his mind. She was a painting that could move, beautifully capturing the urgency of the second, sharply twisting around or throwing her head back before gently contouring her figure to the sensuality the music demanded of her.

The song ends with her halfway up the pole with her tipped back, neck and some of her chest exposed as her hair fell back, lightly swinging from her dance. Her eyes met with his before she twists around the steel to safely glide and land on the floor. Her knees bend, lower back arches and sticking out as she returns to a normal position, scooting closer to the pole to rest her head. She's out of breath having attempted this routine after a while which was worse since she was barely getting sleep nowadays.

"So," Arya watches a silently pondering Luigi, "what do you think Luigi? Can I do this?" Arya's shame creeps up as she folds her legs up and hugs herself, taking the support of the steel beside her. Luigi's eyes flicker up to look at her, trying to find the words that could even express half of the vulnerability, sensuality, and absolute magic he just watched.

Luigi pushes himself onto his feet, stopping the automatic playlists that were filling the room with noise again. He looks over at Arya, silently asking for permission and she nods before stretching her legs out and supporting herself with both hands behind her shoulders. Luigi walks over and reaches his arm out. Arya's eyebrows jump before she grabs his arm and stands up. He looks down into her eyes before talking.

"Arya, you have no idea how beautiful that was." His eyes are looking back and forth between both sides of her face before he turns his head to the side, seemingly trying to stop the words he wants to say next. But her performance was so intellectually and emotionally stimulating that he can't stop himself from rambling.

"You were so in tune with the music, like you embodied and danced its essence. God, have you ever seen yourself in the mirror?" He runs a hand through his hair before stepping back and turning around, groaning and bending down to express frustration at Arya's blank expression. He turns around and scoffs, seeing Arya's amused smile. "Arya that was- Arya I've never seen anyone dance like that. You became that song. You absolutely drank the seduction of the song and painted it in front of me and I-" Arya had slowly walked closer to him, hands crossed with a face of wonder. She's slowly listening to every word and inflection in his voice, paying attention to how his arms flexed or relaxed when he emphasized certain points. She couldn't take her eyes off of the passion she was seeing, hearing, feeling - feeling in her pulse. His words were like a poem she was destined to listen to.

Luigi was still rambling before turning to address Arya directly.

"All I need you to do is trust me." Luigi stares, pleading with her at this point. He wanted to feel her, twist and dip her, but more than that, he wanted her trust. He saw something breathtaking in her and knowing she might trust him with that felt like someone was handing him a diamond.

Arya stares, repeating his words in his head.

All I need to do his is trust him.

All I need to do his is trust him.

All I need to do his is trust him.

She chanted it in her mind, nodding unknowingly as she stepped closer, dually aware of the pushback her own conscience was giving her.

How can you trust him?

Why would he trust you?

How could you let him?

She looks into his eyes. His eyes were drenched in truth and desperation, a vulnerability he was showing in exchange for her to just say the words.

Yes, Luigi, I trust you.

That's all she had to say. He was waiting, letting his emotions paint his eyes. Displaying an inner curiosity and desire to care for her. It was beautiful. Raw. Colorful.

Musical, even, if she translated the butterflies she felt in her stomach into sounds. The voices were getting louder but in front of him, it seemed like nothing mattered.

In front of his honesty, not a single lie could stand in their way.

"It will be slow, Luigi, but-" Arya pauses, realizing she's promising something that would change everything about her.

"I will trust you." Arya breathes it out with confidence, swaying on her feet lightly as her heart beat out of her chest. Luigi's eyes brightened as he took a step closer and whispered, staring down into her eyes, neck strained.

"Arya," he spoke into her soul, trying to placate the residual concerns she had, "are you sure? I want you to be happy. I want you to feel like you can be yourself around me." Luigi tests the waters, resting a hand on her shoulder. She can feel his hand trembling but she looks at him with unwavering confidence, making no effort to push him away. His shoulders relax upon realization. "I want to be your friend. I want to be emotional with you. I want to break the single rule that has kept you trapped your entire life. Please." Arya's eyes fall, pained at how genuinely he uttered the words and tried to navigate her fragile, tearing walls. He wanted to break a rule. She remembers the phoenix hairpin she wore before her grandmother's words resounded in her ears.

Rules are only rules until you decide to break them. Follow wisely.

Luigi was trying to be careful in slipping through the growing cracks, trying not to let himself create a scar that would make the rock rebound and harden itself again. There was discipline in his love. Arya steps even closer, their faces inches away as they were before, staring. Arya shakily takes her hand and places his free arm upon her waist. His cold hands make her neck fall back, bringing her lips even closer to his. She looks up into his eyes, watching his pulse throw itself hastily in a patterned madness against his neck, seen through her peripheral vision.

Luigi's hand slowly moves up and around her back. His fingers splay across the dip in the middle, touching the exposed skin as they both bend in unison. He bends forward as Arya's neck angles and drops back, hair falling to touch the ground as her leg extends. Luigi removes his hand before grabbing her leg from behind her knee, balancing himself on one foot as her body is pliable. His other foot straightens out behind me before he pulls her back up, resting his hands on her hips and allowing his extended leg to fold and support him before he's standing straight and Arya's hands are clasped around his neck.

He wastes no time before slowly turning her around. She removes an arm from one side of his neck, before grabbing her own. She trails behind him, grabbing the front of his throat as the other arm slides down his chest excruciatingly slow. The same arm of his grabs ahold of her fingers, drawing her body forward for which he pulls back. Arya matches the resistance, throwing her body back with an arch, a small curve before he spins her around and places his hand behind her neck, bending her over and down to the side. She looks back into eyes with an equal desire, before she pushes herself up, both hands on her sides as Luigi lets go.

"You're perfect." Luigi mutters the words before calming his thoughts. "I think you did enough for today." He smiles, holding her forearm and giving it a soft squeeze. Arya places her free arm on top of the one touching hers before reciprocating the action and telling him "I think you did more" and walking away to get a drink. Luigi watches her, letting go of a breath he didn't know he was holding. He feels giddy, absolutely sure that he is stepping into territory he shouldn't.

He's falling in love.

Arya's heart hammers out of her chest as she downs the water, quenching her parched lips. The cool liquid refreshes her throat and being, humming the song quietly to distract herself from the sensation of the moment. She quietly retraced the path his fingers drew while finishing the last few drops. She turns around to see Luigi packing and zipping his bag up before wearing his shoes. She stands quietly, waiting for him to make the next move. Luigi lets out a sigh after he's finishing organizing his items, looking back to see Arya.

"You're free to go. Thanks for today." Luigi walks over and smiles. Arya nods: "Of course. What time tomorrow?" She watches him think, but notices a small dip in shoulders, showing disappointment. She doesn't quite know where it's coming from, but she knew it was there. "How about we do it in the morning? That way I can get out of your way quicker." Luigi proposes this but Arya's eyebrows furrow. "You're not in my way Luigi. Same time tomorrow then." Arya makes the final decision before walking away with the water and sweatpants. She walks and exits the door before taking a few steps back. Luigi is still halfway across the room, making his way to the door before stopping to see what Arya has to say.

"Hey?" He asks confused. Arya smiles before twiddling her thumbs, hesitant but eventually telling him, "You should come over again."

She walks away, leaving Luigi both dumbfounded and ecstatic.

~

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this is a slowburn romance/adventure and eventual smut fic. stick around <3

@poohkie90 @madkohi

[thatsladyfaggottoyou]

Unfinished Snippet

Here's a bit of a piece that probably won't ever get finished since we've grown the characters so much since then, but I'd be sad if no-one ever got to read some of the really good bits.

Leaning into James's touch, Madeleine snorted. "I trust him like I trust the Moon," she said. "If it chooses to come crashing down, what possible defense do I have? I must simply trust its orbit and not concern myself with whether it can be swayed to come or go." Still, after a moment, she sighed and turned and buried her face in the curve of his neck. "Did you wish magic was real as a child? I... don't know that I did. I worried if it was that it would just be another thing we could hurt each other with. I didn't imagine the magic would have a say in how it was used." James wrapped his arms around her again, rubbing at her back as he held her close. "I remember entertaining ideas of magic when I was younger." That wasn't a lie, he did have a vivid imagination, even if it was stifled when he was still young. "And then the real word hit me a little too hard. Maybe that's why I'm still trying to fully wrap my head around what is happening right now. And maybe I will never truly get it." He paused and let his gaze fall over the baths for a moment, squinting through the steam as if he was searching for someone standing close by. "I just know that whatever this all is, wants us to be well. And for right now I'm going to take what I can get." "How strange is it, now, to think the real world has been this, too, all along?" Madeleine asked, and followed his gaze into the steam. It had taken a while for her to piece together when she'd first arrived. First, she'd thought perhaps magic cared more for intention than immediate action: if he wanted her to be comfortable, the place they were would make her comfortable. Slowly, though, that certainty eroded and realization dawned in its place. She dipped down into the water a moment, letting it cover her wholly to rid herself of the last of the soap before pulling herself up to sit on the edge of the pool, her legs still covered in the warm of the water. "You're wondering how he knows to move where things were left, to lift or drop the water, to warm the room, aren't you?" "It's a question that makes my mind go a bit muddy, honestly." James easily spoke the truth here, with her. He didn't even struggle to try to keep it in, it was just a second nature kind of thing. He turned his gaze to her and nodded, before slipping down into the water and do the same. When he put himself next to Madeleine again, he made sure to keep very close. There was only so much more time he had with her. "It has crossed my mind, maybe it's just a sense he has. Being Destiny and all. Like he has seen all of this happening, before." And even in the midst of the steam and soft lighting of the bath area, she would notice a touch of color on his cheeks.

The blush on his face brought a wide smile to her own, and Madeleine giggled as she kissed his cheek. "Has this only just occurred to you?" She teased, and when she reached to her side the bottles of juice and little snacks settled there were closer than they had been before they'd bathed. She popped open a jug of pomegranate juice and took a long sip before offering it to James. "What if it was stranger than that?" Madeleine asked, feet splashing a bit in the water. "What if he knew where we were because he was here, too? Not shaped as a man, but as a room. As a temple. As water and steam and air. Shaped as bottles and juice and... It is an impossibly strange sensation to think every stone of this place is not stone, but Destiny made to form. And then stranger, still, to think it changes to our comfort." James took the bottle from Madeleine and nearly choked on the sip he took as he listened to what she said. His gaze drifted to the bottle, and he stared at it with a baffled expression. For a moment a touch of the color that was in James' face faded to pale. They were in Destiny. "Well..." he started in a low almost whispered tone. "This brings a new meaning to the idea of strange doesn't it." "I feel like I'm right at the brink of understanding something," Madeleine admitted, and furrowed her brow in frustration. "He said--he said there was a library that his brother had, but it's not available because his brother is--and these are his own words--stuck in a trap of his own making. He said every book I could ever hope to find, every explanation I could ever need, would be there, but..." She sighed, at last drawing her feet from the water to rest her head atop her knees. "I am grateful that I can air this to you, at least. I do not think any of them can understand how impossible it all feels from the outside. Will you walk with me back to my rooms, and will you lie by me until you must go?" "In a trap of his own making? Goodness, that sounds dramatic." James laughed lightly, and turned to look at Madeleine, placing a hand gently on her back. "No I don't suppose they can really understand things from our side, can they?"

Standing up slowly, James stepped out of the pool, offering a hand for Madeleine to help her up. There was a low, amused snort when he looked to see warm towels and robes waiting for them in a large basket near where he stood that had not, when they’d entered, been present. "I'd like to lie with you until I have to leave. I...I'm not sure when I will see you again." Madeleine let James help her up, and let him fuss over drying her off, and stole kisses where she could. "I promise to keep your heart safe until you come back for it, then," she said, and led him to the door which had, before, opened into the hallway. Now, though, she swung it open and on the other side was her own quarters. Destiny had put her somewhere beautiful. The back wall was all glass, overlooking the sprawl of the garden and laced by ivy whose leaves would move to keep the sunlight from overtiring her. There was a sliding glass door that led onto a small balcony where plants languished from the rails, floral and drunk on the delicate breeze he'd learned she liked. The bed was wide and soft, and the furniture in the room was all warm-colored wood and glass and settled with flowers, foxglove and iris and hollyhock, spider lily and Queen Anne's lace. There were tea things in a cabinet, and a kitchenette with a small stove and oven, and even there greenery stretched throughout with herbs spilling over planters along the shelves. She sighed, and looked amused, and turned to James. "I think I see what I like about him, now; he's as bad as you are. I told him not to move the baths for my convenience--I suppose he did not move the baths, then, and thinks himself clever for it."

And, as if in response, the sun's light began to fade in soft sunset to splay colors across the bedroom. James smiled brightly, pulling Madeleine into his arms. He held her with an awed gentleness, as if she was the most rare thing to ever exist. "I'm beginning to like him more as time goes on." It would be the kind of thing James knew he would do if he had such power. He reminded himself to try to talk to Destiny later, to thank him for taking such good care of his love. As the light began to fade, James lead Madeleine over to the bed. He slipped her out of her robe, and helped her lie down. Slipping out of his own, he climbed into the bed beside her, wasting no time in pulling her back into his arms, stealing a soft kiss. "I love you." And as saddened as she was to think that when morning came she would once more be without him, Madeleine moved easy with James, pressing herself into his arms to kiss back sleepily. "I love you, too," she mumbled, and though she fought her best to stay awake and enjoy the way he held her sleep soon stole Madeleine to a dreamless rest--as was all sleep in Destiny's realm. Dreamless, but peaceful.

[rimeiii]

Just watched the gameplay trailer and...

Well, it's a lot like Path to Nowhere. Can't say I'm surprised, considering the unit placement and map layouts from all the trailers we've seen.

(More under the cut because we all know I'm the bitch who's more interested in the gameplay compared to other things-)

Some corrections regarding the symbols:

Angel wings are enemies remaining, paw prints are movement opportunities remaining.

Whatever that last icon is, it's supposed to be is your HP.

Two tilesets is real, but it's only used to indicate pathing.

There doesn't seem to be a distinction between low ground and high ground tiles - it's just the lighter tiles are the enemy paths, and you place units on lighter tiles if you want to block enemies.

The limits of the battlefield are the black picket fences along the edges!

But holy shit some of these abilities sound so fucking broken on paper, but the applications...

Marbas's skill, if handled properly, can act like Bard Supporters in Arknights. However, the healing seems to be very limited, at 1 HP per tick? How would it scale based on skill level and stats? Is 1 HP a lot for friendlies? At least it seems to be an infinite duration skill, so...

Paimon's slow is manual targeting. Personally I'm not a fan, or maybe it's because I think in the realm of tower defense, Suzuran is a slower done right. Or Snow Peas. These sorts of units, in essence, slow enemies down so our units can burst them down easily. Which might be uh...let's just say, underutilized based on the DPS options we have down the line.

At this point, Paimon seems to play a lot like May, and even then May is more effective in slowing down enemies with her first skill.

Anyways, what in the fuck is going on here?

That 'Miss' in blue text. Is that a damage instance miss, an ailment miss, or something else? If it's a damage instance miss (which is what I think it is) then mygod I think I'm actually going to rage while playing this game. That is, unless it's due to a unit's passive - then for my own sanity I won't be using them, ever. Because hey, fellow Arknights players, remember these fuckers?

Yeah. Silence and freeze came in clutch, honestly. There's a reason why a lot of players would rather not deal with dodge enemies and just want to nuke them out of existence with true damage and status effects. Though to be fair it's the Nethersea Brand that makes Stultifera Navis a hard event/Intermezzi...

ANYWAYS! The next skill I'll be looking at is Eligos's skill.

That's a unique skill, honestly! Mechanically, it's most similar to Mlynar's second talent, which gives him innate Taunt (makes enemy ranged attacks target him when he's in their range) - except Mlynar is Broken Like That and has damage reflect while maintaining that the Talent is always active, all with respectable defenses and a sizable HP pool. Like Mlynar, depending on how much damage the enemy does on average and how strong Eligos's shield is, the skill can easily turn into a double-edged sword, however - in a much more dangerous way compared to Mlynar.

Think of it this way. It doesn't seem like WHB has a redeployment mechanic, as a similar "style" of tower defense with Path to Nowhere. Which means, if an ally is dead, then they stay dead for the entirety of the stage.

Compare that with Arknights, which allows retreating and redeployment.

Losing Texas the Omertosa on the battlefield wouldn't matter as much as losing Eligos, because I know I can still use Texas down the line. Plus, the Executor subclass is built around redeployment, making that mechanic necessary to use her properly. Same thing with me retreating Chen - her positioning wasn't the most optimal after clearing the treasure chest, and if the stage went on any longer I'd redeploy her in a more strategic position/direction. But I know this stage's mobs aren't particularly tanky, and Mountain with Sweeping Stance (S2) would be more than enough to hold that lane, with his 2-block + DPS + self-sustain.

These are the words of a chronic IS player.

Meanwhile, if I lost Eligos, then I'd lose a valuable blocker unit. He's a defender in WHB, and he definitely has more tanking capabilities. But that means you'll have to consider adding either a healer to keep him healed up or more DPS to kill off enemies before you lose said defender to continuous attacks.

The final three skills shown in the trailer all fall under the same category: burst damage over an area.

This is where I can say slowers might eventually be underutilized in WHB on launch. They work the best with consistent, large damage sources over a period of time. What do I mean by that? Well, let's take a look at Suzuran - specifically, her second passive.

Suzuran, in my opinion, reflects the most effective way a slower is used in tower defense. Not only does she slow enemies down, she inflicts them with a debuff that makes them take more damage (Fragile). This effect is doubled with her third skill Foxfire Haze, where she stops attacking - but her slow turns into an area of effect deal, heals allies, and has an increased range. She is oftentimes used in conjunction with damage dealers and an extra debuffer (optional, but typically Saria S3) with steady burst damage over a set period of time - SilverAsh, Surtr, Mlynar, Eyjafjalla, Mostima, and Exusiai, just to name a few.

Granted, she is a 6* unit (L rarity in WHB terms would likely be the closest approximation), but even then other Decel Binders (slowers like Suzuran) without the debuff application still has the 80% Slow on all enemies they attack, and has ways to increase their slowing and damage capabilities.

It's hard to see with how the battle is presented, but if Paimon's slow is only on skill proc, then him in conjunction with these DPS options would be the equivalent of using Decel Binders with Chiave/Pinecone - which isn't bad per se (unless you managed to stack charges - then it becomes good) but less effective compared to using, say, Pozëmka/Schwarz. And let's not forget that some of these characters have huge attack ranges (Satan and Gabriel specifically) - making the entire point of slowers more or less moot.

Also, it would seem that skills may inflict status ailments! Stun seems to work like in Arknights (enemy stops attacking and moving for a set period of time), but Bleed I will assume is a damage over time deal. Kinda like Blue Poison and Thorns's passives.

The final and arguably biggest gripe I have with what I see in the trailer, though?

Little to no potential for AFK gaming- //SHOT

[melancholycatastrophe]

Only Friends Ep. 5 Thoughts

spoilers

not even two minutes in and someone is trying to kill ray, its not looking good out here

nick interrupting the raysand handjob is so wild because sandnick knows that top cheated on mew and they know mew and ray are friends and theyre just not gonna say anything to ray, thats crazy

the raysand and topmew dates are so cute i just know this isn't gonna last

sidenote: that wasn't actually topmew being cute, it was forcebook. the only way i can keep myself sane is by pretending its just forcebook

sand dressed the way i want to dress im going insane he's my favorite kind of boy: guitar player, rock and indie fan, leather jackets, anger issues, homoerotic tension with men - if ray doesn't want him I'll keep him

NOOOO MEW NOT THE GLASSES

top fixing mew's glasses 😭 he's too fine to be such a scumbag

mew's prescription is -5.00, he's just like me fr

am i tripping or is mew now hyperaware of every time top talks to another man because he thinks that they're all ex-hookups or top might hook up with them after? like what was that look when the server gave top the bill?

IS THIS BITCH--? IS NICK CHANGING THE WAY HE DRESSES AND GOING TO THE GYM IN ORDER TO LOOK MORE LIKE TOP AND GET BOSTON'S ATTENTION????? BOY STAND UP PLEASE DONT BE LIKE TOP PLEASE

bostonnick in the pool just reminded me of that one kinnporsche pool scene im sorry i was hoping they would have sex in the pool

also -- diversity win! the lying backstabbing guy who is playing with your feelings and ruining his friendgroup believes in safe sex!

another thing that intrigues me: does boston even like his friends? cuz we've seen all four of them together and having fun, and they look to get along well if you ignore everything happening in the background, but individually? has boston hung out with or just simply had a normal convo with anyone? mew has with ray and cheum, and im starting to believe that boston hates mew for something that happened in the past or is really jealous, but does he hang out ray and cheum just one on one? because at this point it feels like the only person boston talks to is nick, which is.... idk I'm just so curious as to how the raymewbostoncheum friend group came to be

also the fact that he's not even interested in the hostel. the only people we've seen truly working on it are mew and cheum, mew possibly because if it fails he loses his place as top student, idk why but cheum is a business major so she probably has some vested interest in this project. i'm assuming ray is a buisness major because of his dad and even tho it's technically his project - as boston points out - i doubt he wants to work in that field

"I don't want to sleep around anymore. I want to have sex with someone I can talk to and be affectionate with" boston the word you are looking for is boyfriend. you want a boyfriend, and nick is right there (for some reason)

instead of being called only friends, this show should be called "getting cockblocked by all your friends" because this is getting ridiculous. first raysand, then raysand again, then bostonnick, and then raysand again

the way mew wants his friends to be in serious relationships is soo......cute, but also funny that he's over here rooting for his friends meanwhile he keeps top in a situationship like bestie look in the mirror

also i will chew on concrete if boston only dislikes mew because of top oh my god its never that serious over dick

ray please stop talking to that girl omg summer is too pretty to be involved in whatever the fuck you and your friends have going on, give her to me

that concert scene makes me miss brightwin idk

atp I'm gonna assume that every guy who looks at top has fucked him unless proven otherwise cuz this is getting ridiculous

ah fuck....mew has fallen for top..... but anyway this confirms mew is probs demiromantic and demisexual

not the debt collectors 😭 is it really a rich x poor storyline if there's no debt collectors?

sand's mom owns....the go go club....i'm.....oh my god thats why he was there in episode like 2

ray singing sand a love song for his birthday oh be still my beating heart

not mew calling boston to tell him that he's ready to have sex with top 😭 bestie i get that he's your friend with the most sexual experience and you dont want to tell ray cuz he had feelings for you but oh my god why did you tell ton??????

but also "I'm afraid if I don't have sex with Top he'll get bored of me" after seeing so many people check out Top that day.....Mew is finally at a point where he has romantic feelings for Top and its probably for the first time ever and he doesn't want to let him go so he'll have sex with him, he's so real honestly I relate to him a stupid amount

also...okay wait....so is the friendship between bostonmew one-sided or is top truly the reason why their friendship will crumble in the future? cuz mew calls boston about top for reassurance and boston reassures him for some reason....

out of context topmew is cute.....oh their break up is gonna be awful

their first time having sex was so sweet and tender but i know damn well this wont last

ray and his mommy issues back at it again

sand distracting ray from drinking more by sharing personal details about his life....oh......oh....

sand was named after the place his mom and dad had sex oh my god....

ray's mom 🤝 ray

suicidal and alcohol addicts

"Only Cockblocked By Your Friends" the series strikes again!!!

it just hit me that they're eating weed cookies.....

also... "sand, this isnt your usual stuff?" does this mean sand sold ton drugs before or....?

ray keeps saying he and sand aren't dating and its breaking both mine and sand's heart

bostonnick and raysand drinking and partying together doesnt sit right in my heart....somehow someone is gonna say something bad while high

"even if you really like ray, i doubt it would work out between you two" whelp there it is

boston for the love of god shut the fuck up so we can have happy raysand and topmew please stop telling everyone and their mother that ray is in love with mew so that he can move on oh my god please its only episode 5 i need some happy moments between the two couples a little longer please

why is ton airing out all of ray's dirty laundry why is he doing the things that he does he's so messy i love it

well......ray and boston are probably not friends anymore

boston is too fine to be acting like this

now that I'm thinking about it....were boston and ray ever friends or were they just in the same friend group? cuz back in like episode one he was the one who was supposed to take care of ray when he was drunk and didn't so, like....

that last scene with sandray is sad and all but I'm too distracted over the fact that they're sleeping without blankets covering them

WAS THAT RAYMEW FIGHTING IN THE PREVIEW NO I CAN TAKE EVERYTHING BUT RAYMEW FIGHTING STOP DONT DO THIS TO ME

[cresent2003]

Idea's

Simon Riley x Fem! Reader

Unedited

===============================

Blood and dirt covered Jane's skin as she scratched off the larger bits that had dried.

She didn't know what had happened.

The plan was foolproof but like everything in Price's many plans, something always went wrong and left her questioning if she was still alive at the end of it all.

She sat in an upstairs bedroom in a house that was in the middle of nowhere.

They were back in England but the part of England was unknown.

"Janey" she lifted her head up as Price stood in the doorway.

Her eyes were empty and all she needed was sleep but that was a luxury she couldn't get right now.

"Come on," he said as he lit a cheap cigar while moving to walk out of the doorway.

She followed him.

"We're safe here.

Soap and Kyle checked around and it looks like there's nothing but farm for miles" he said.

She smiled "There's that smile.

I was starting to think I broke you" Price said.

"Not yet," she said.

They walked into what looked like a living room.

Everyone was inside.

Kyle was on the couch loading his pistol, Soap was looking out the window as the sun set and Ghost was in the corner.

"Alright, I fished her out.

Get your asses here so we can plan stations" Price said.

"I thought you said this place was safe," Kyle said.

"We're never fully safe unless we're at base," Price said.

Everyone looked at Price as Jane picked at her bleeding fingers.

"There's one shower.

It will be two at a time.

One will clean up and the other will stand guard.

The rest of us will find whatever food we can find and prepare this room to be where we sleep.

Be on guard as this place isn't a safe house.

Remember that" Price said before looking at Jane who was still preoccupied.

"Jane and Simon you'll be going first.

The bathroom is upstairs on the right" Price said.

"Hmm," she said as she looked at him.

"Go on sweetheart," Price said.

They both left the room.

"How is she a deadly killer?" Kyle asked.

"No one expects a girl like her to break a man like all of us," Price said.

Jane stood in the bathroom as she looked around.

"Hey, you alright?" Simon said as he stood by the door.

"Yeah just trying to snap out of whatever trance im in.

I don't really know if im really alive right now" she said.

He walked over to her before pinching her arm.

She yelped before looking at him.

"Thanks," she said.

"I'll be outside," he said.

"Wait.

You can stay in here.

I would feel a lot more safe if you did" she said.

They looked at each other.

"Alright.

Just don't get any ideas" he said.

"Ideas?

When have I ever had an idea like that Si?" she asked.

He walked out of the room as she smiled.

She got undressed before getting in the shower.

The minute the water turned on relief filled her.

She scratched her skin as a reddish-brown pool of water formed at her feet.

Simon could hear the water running from outside the curtain as he took off his mask to wash the black paint off his face.

He hissed as he took off his gear as dirt got into the large gash on his back from a knife-wielding maniac back at an ambush near Manchester.

He wasn't one to point out his injuries.

Injuries caused distractions and he couldn't afford to not be constantly focused.

Jane washed her long dark brown hair as she heard him hiss and groan.

"Simon?" she asked.

"What?" he asked as he put his hands on the sink bowl as the burning pain spread across his back.

It was worse than he thought.

Jane poked her head out of the shower before freezing as she saw the sore gash on his back.

"I can clean it," she said.

"I'm fine just get back to your shower" he said.

"Simon.

We both know that will get very infected soon.

If you won't let me clean it then...." she said before looking at his back not knowing what else to say.

"Go on," he said.

"Get in here with me.

Only for a few minutes.

I'll clean it and then you can leave the room" she said.

He turned around.

"You truly think that shit's a good idea," he said.

"We've seen each other naked before.

There's nothing we're about this so stop being so stubborn and let me help you" she said.

"Fine but only for two minutes" he said.

She smiled before getting back to her shower.

She placed her head directly under the water causing the world around her to wash away.

She could hear him getting undressed causing her body to heat up.

It wasn't a new experience.

There was no privacy in the military, not when you're on a mission.

She learned that early on and didn't let that mindset slip.

The one time she did she realised that she might have feelings for Simon.

The shower curtain opened as he stepped inside.

She turned her head before blushing as she looked into his eyes.

It was the one moment she realised how starved of male attention she was.

Anything other than teammate and friendly attention.

"Turn around," she said as she took a deep breath.

He did what she said to avoid the tension that eye contact provided them.

She traced the gash before taking the shower head.

She cleaned the gash as he hissed.

"Deep breaths.

This is going to bloody hurt" she said.

"I figured.

Just do it quickly.

If Prices finds me in here I'll be the dead one" he said.

"I'm in here so he won't," she said.

"You would think he has a thing for ya'," he said.

"We don't.

I don't have anything with anyone.

Haven't for a while" she said as she poured a handful of a clear soap.

She washed his back and the gash with it causing him to groan.

"Fucking hell you weren't lying" he said.

"I never do," she said.

"I don't fuckin believe that," he said.

"Well that's your opinion" she said as she began to massage his shoulder releasing all the knots.

"Trying to distract me?" he asked.

"No," she said.

She rubbed his neck before running her hands down his back.

His body was perfect.

He would be able to snap her in half with one move but she could break his neck at the same time which helped her ignore how scary he naturally looked.

"What are you doin?" he asked before turning around.

"Sorry," she said before looking into his eyes.

"Don't apologise.

You just started to go into a little world" he said.

"I'm tired.

I apologise" she said.

"Hey.

Stop fuckin apologising" he said.

She looked into his eyes again before looking at his entire face.

She placed her hand on his face before running her fingers along his jaw trying to memorise what he looked like.

There was always a platonic bond between them.

He would die and kill for her and she just wanted to patch him up or help him relax.

It was strange but until now she didn't realise that.

He grasped her wrist softly as the small touches started to make him uncomfortable.

"I won't hurt you" she said with big eyes that made his walls come crumbling down.

"I know just not used to it," he said.

"You must hate me then as im very touchy after missions" she said softly.

"Nah.

I'll just walk away if you go too far.

Don't worry yourself about it love" he said.

Heat pooled in her abdomen at his words.

He always called her 'Love' when he was comfortable and that alone made her blush and giggle.

"How's your back?" she asked.

"Better.

It'll be sore for a few days nothin' I can't handle" he said.

"Hopefully we can stay here for a day or two before moving.

My entire body is so sore.

I don't think anyone realises that the way I fight takes a toll on me if I do it too much" she said.

"Why did ya sign up for this?" he asked.

"Laswell transferred me," she said.

They stood in silence for a minute or so as the running water became background noise.

She looked into his eyes "What's with that look?" she asked.

"This is jus' my face" he said.

"You're lying," she said.

She could feel the warmth radiating off his body as she bit her bottom lip.

She had lost track of time and everyone must be confused but at this moment all she could care about was this rare moment with Simon.

She looked at his lips "I wonder why no one has come knocking on the door yet?" she asked.

"Soaps got them wrapped up in some card game" Simon said.

"How do you know that?" she asked.

"Once he's had a small breather he tries to calm down everyone.

Bloody twit always wakes me up with all these fuckin games" he said.

"They must not be able to hear us then," she said.

"Nah.

They'll figure it out eventually but not for a bit" he said.

She smiled "You know I've never told you how handsome you are.

I guess I never see you like this but I love it when I do.

I like it when you trust me" she said.

"You haven't given me a reason not to," he said.

"Good," she said before running her thumb on his bottom lip.

"You're getting bloody ideas love" he said.

"Oh well," she said before kissing him as all the tension held back.

He froze as she gave him a quick peck before standing in front of him waiting for his response.

"What was that for?" he asked.

"I got an idea," she said.

"A good one.

Come ere'," he said before kissing her as she allowed him to fully relax.

Suddenly the once hot water ran ice cold causing her to gasp.

"You both done.

There's still three of us covered in shit" Soap's voice came from the outside of the door.

"Give me a minute you fucking twat" Simon said.

"Nice to know she hasn't completely whipped ya" Soap said before walking away.

"Fucking hell that's cold," she said.

He turned off the water before getting out of the shower.

He wrapped a towel around her before getting one for himself.

"Go get dressed in the bedroom on the right.

The woman that lived here left everything then ran" he said.

"What about you?

Your clothes around covered in blood" she asked

"I'll find somethin now go" he said.

She walked to the bedroom before sitting on the bed.

She smiled.

Jane finally had someone who would be on her side until she was dead and maybe even after that.