#i'm just hoping there will be decent base spots left >.<< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[afkintheark]

Hopped on for a quick meat run and noticed the sky.

I'm not sure if we'll be getting to Extinction right away since it looks like it'll be very late for us when it finally releases. It miiight have to wait til Monday. :P

I installed The Volcano and have been mostly chilling on it and re-familiarizing myself with the map. I found the Aberration cave already though I don't have a tame yet strong enough to go in. Haven't gotten any screenshots yet, but once I find a perma-base spot and figure out what I want to build I will take some. \o/

[dfortrafalgar]

Looooooved ILY! Kudos! It was chair-gripping, tear drenching, rot your teeth fluffy and a bunch of other things in between! Brava! 🥰

If you're still accepting requests (I don't know if you have already been flooded by messages or not) I would like a story about being part of the Kid Pirates but reader is in a really sour mood because it's the anniversary of readers's parents death (you can make up a story if you'd like) and reader disobeys a direct order from him and, to top it off, reader talks back at him in front of the crew, earning the reader a severe punishment (up to you). Eventually Kid finds out why reader's mood is so sour and tries to talk it out except Kid can't be soft and that just makes things more awkward. Could be SFW, could be NSFW, I'm leaving all this up to you. And the ending as well because I only got that far. I hope you like the idea and get excited.

I love your work! ❤️🥰 Thank you for sharing your talent.

HI ANON!!! thank you so much for your request and your super kind words over IMLY, that means so much to me!!!! i know i keep saying this but yall make me smile every single day when i log onto tumblr and see your messages <3

I also really loved writing this request! i really love Kid, but i also wanna kick his ass on the playground if that makes sense, and i think that sentiment came through in my writing ;w; I hope you like it!!! and thank you again!!! (Also, i kept the reason for your parents' death ambiguous, because i know some people (myself included) read fics with their ocs in mind, so you're free to fill in the vagueness with your own personal ideas if you want!)

Feeling Overhaul

Eustass Kid x Fem Reader

The anniversary of your parents' death always leaves you feeling shallow, but your boyfriend's lack of social and situational awareness crops up to make your day even worse.

Warnings: SFW, hurt/comfort, reader being understandably upset, descriptions of an argument with some veeeeery slight verbal abuse, once again hurt/comfort, hurt/comfort. communication is key loves

Your sour mood had been steadily building over the last few days, but your sorrow reached its peak on the last day of the week, according to the barely legible crew calendar that was based off of when the messenger coos arrived with the weekly paper.  It was a day you despised thinking about, the memories associated with the day leaving your throat tight, an uncomfortable malaise in the pit of your stomach.

All things considered, you thought you were doing a decent job at keeping your emotions in check while performing your usual duties on the Victoria Punk.  The bow of the deck needed a thorough scrubbing, a few spots in the walls of the crow’s nest needed repairs from a recent run in with a smaller, weaker pirate crew, and a few secondary sails needed their holes patched up.  It was a perfect day to distract yourself from your woes.  Drowning your discontent in your work had become quite a valuable skill.

Until you slipped on the soap that lathered the hard wood of the bow and fell flat on your ass.  When trying to stand, your hands gave out under you and you hit the deck once more, one of your crew mates tossing you anxious glances as you struggled to regain your bearings.  Climbing up to the crow’s nest, you were plagued with a sudden wash of grief over the day, so much so that you lost your grip and slipped down the Jacobs ladder, your foot catching on one of the wooden rungs beneath you.  Wire was directly under you, climbing as well to assist with the crow’s nest repairs, and his method of helping you after your slip involved gripping your arm so hard it left a bruise.  You bit back your tears at the pain of your crewmate’s hand around your limb and the humiliation of almost falling 12 feet onto the hard wooden hull, but you once again bit back your shame and finished your arduous climb up.

By the afternoon, word had gotten around the Victoria Punk that your work was lacking, that you were clearly struggling with something, that perhaps you weren’t feeling well.  When it finally got around to Captain Eustass Kid, who doubled as your beloved partner, he was less than pleased.

The last thing he wanted to do was deal with your emotions, and the last thing you wanted to do was deal with his abrasive, apathetic attitude.

“Care to explain why the hell the entire crew has caught you slacking off today?” he demanded, thundering toward you in one of the upper corridors of the ship’s hull.  You were still returning some of the tools you had used to patch up the ship’s sails when he accosted you in the hallway.  It was almost dinner hour, and many of the crew were bustling through the same corridors finishing their afternoon tasks before meal time.

“What?” you snapped back, caught off guard by his threatening question.

“Don’t ‘What’ me.  Why have you been tripping and falling everywhere?  What kind of joke are you trying to play?”  His face was angry, livid even, not granting you even one second to explain your plight.

Your eyebrows furrowed.  “I’m not trying to bumble around the boat like an idiot.  I’m just not feeling well and haven’t been able to focus.”

Kid scoffed.  “Then get over it.”

Perhaps you were being irrational, but at the same time, you had officially had enough of the entire day.  You dropped your supplies on the floor around your feet, heat radiating off of your body in waves.  “What did you just say to me?”

Your captain bent down to be at your level, which was insulting to your current state.  “Get.  Over.  It.”

Anger boiled in your lungs, lighting your heart on fire, blinding the corners of your vision with a fuzzy white light.  You tried to turn your back to him and escape down the corridor, but yelped when Kid grabbed your wrist and pulled you back toward him.

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong with you?” he asked.  He really couldn’t control the sound of his voice, regardless of his current emotion, and the volume of his shouts filling the space made your body tense up in fear.  Eyes watching the scene unfold around you widened.

Around the corner behind Kid’s back, Killer darted forward, alerted to the sounds emanating from the narrow passage.  “Kid, chill out!”

“Are you going to care about me any more if I tell you?” you demanded back, trying to pull your wrist away from his grip.  His flesh hand held firm, however, almost burning your skin.  He shrugged Killer’s own hand off of his shoulder forcefully, completely ignoring his friend’s plea to calm himself somewhat.

Kid rolled his eyes.  “It better be damn important if it’s got you almost falling off of the Jacobs ladder.”

You steeled yourself, sucking in an uneasy breath and facing your stubborn partner head on.  “Today’s the anniversary of my parents’ death.  I’ve never been able to feel alright when I think about them.”

There was a brief, uncomfortable silence that floated between the two of you, the air in the hallway thrumming with a suffocating tension.  Kid’s grip finally relaxed on your wrist, allowing you to yank it away and rub your sore skin.  His red-painted lips finally parted, and all he graced your ear drums with was, “That’s it?”

Your heart dropped.  “What do you mean ‘that’s it’?”

“Parents die all the time.  What makes today so different?”  His narrow eyes were back to their scathing glare.

At this point, however, you had had enough.  You were practically shaking with a barely contained rage of your own as you stepped closer to your captain and spat in his face, causing him to stagger backward, giving you enough space to let your emotions bubble outward.  “I don’t have to tell you shit if you’re going to talk to me like that!  In front of the entire crew?!  Just because you’re my captain doesn’t mean you get the excuse to accost me in the hallway and berate me for slipping a few times.”  You frantically dug through your brain for words to add to your outburst, perhaps asking how he had the sheer gall to have such an attitude toward you despite dropping his walls and being so kind toward you on an average day, but all you could muster in response was, “Fuck you, Kid.”

You stepped away from him, narrowly missing another one of his lunges to get you to stay.  His voice was low and intimidating.  “Don’t talk to me like that.”

“Then don’t tell me that my day of grieving is stupid!  Fuck!  You!” you spat back, finally turning on your heels and sprinting out of his reach, down the hallway and into the ladder well into the lower deck, desperate to get as far away from your captain as possible.  You knew he was prone to struggling with empathy, and kindness had never been one of his strong suits, but to be talked to in such a way, have your feelings belittled after you had almost severely injured yourself as a consequence of your lacking mental health, hurt more than a stab to the liver.

Kid’s burning gaze followed you as you fled, harshly turning on his own heels to slink to the galley and drown his frustrations in whatever liquor the crew had acquired from the last island.  He bumped Killer’s shoulder, forcing the blonde to the side.  The crew watched as their captain rounded the corner out of sight.

---

You didn’t arrive for the dinner call, your usual seat left unfilled and the plate uneaten.  A few crew mates who hadn’t witnessed the explosive scene from an hour ago asked around for your whereabouts, but the only one who bothered to stand up and search for you was Quincy who quickly ate her meal and abandoned the table.

Kid was pounding back alcohol like no one’s business, leading to many a concerned glance.

“Kid,” Killer muttered.  He rested his masked head in his hand, desperate for context at what he had previously run in on.  “What happened?”

“Nothing,” the red-head grumbled, throwing back another mug of golden beer, some of it dribbling down the side of his mouth.

The few straggling crew members who remained around the large dining table shared worried looks.

“It’s clearly not nothing,” Killer countered.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” snapped Kid.  Even at the age of 23, he was still no better than a bratty little child when things didn’t go his way.

Killer dropped the subject with a sigh, the sound escaping the holes in his mask with a subdued hiss.

Quincy, on the other hand, carefully opened the door to the women’s bunk room where she found you, curled on your side on the mattress that used to belong to you when you first joined the Kid Pirates, your face buried in a pillow and your shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

“Darling,” she cooed, silently tapping across the floor to sit on the side of the bed, her gentle hand ghosting over your arm.  “What happened?  Why didn’t you come to dinner?”

The sound of her voice unraveled you from your coil, your tear-stained face and puffy red eyes meeting her concerned stare.  “Kid and I had a fight,” was all you said.

“About?”

You rolled onto your back, clutching the pillow that was thoroughly drenched in your salty tears to your abdomen.  “Today’s the anniversary of my parents’ death, and when Kid asked me what was wrong, he told me, ‘What makes today so different, parents die all the time.’  Like…?” your voice wavered, “Who says that?  And to his girlfriend nonetheless!”

Quincy made a disappointed tsk sound with her tongue, sympathetically rubbing your arm through the sleeve of your shirt.  “Honey, he’s stupid.  But still, he was wrong to speak to you like that.”

You sniffled, wiping some snot from your face with the arm that wasn’t being caressed by your close friend.  “I know… but it still hurts.  I wish he could just… I don’t know… be nicer to me?”

For what it was worth, both of you knew that Kid wasn’t truly ‘stupid.’  He was strong, strategic, and resilient, but when it came to matters of the heart, his brain dwarfed to the size of a peanut.  It was only a matter of getting the headstrong captain to realize how he had truly hurt you.

“Honey, sleep in here for a few nights to get a proper rest, away from him,” Quincy offered, standing up from her seat on your mattress to approach one of the wardrobes, pulling out a comfortable shirt and baggy pants to relax in.  “Let this blow over for a little while, and then you can try to talk it out with him.  We can help if you need it.”

You sat up yourself, gratefully taking the clothing from her arms, a small smile on your lips.  “Thanks, Quin.”

The curly-haired woman left the bunkhouse to let you change, passing by Killer trudging through the hallway, a towel draped over his scarred arm.  “Hey, have you talked to Kid?”

“He’s drunk off his ass right now,” Killer grumbled, dragging his free hand down his mask in a display of exasperation.  “I couldn’t get him to tell me what happened, but he’s gonna be out of it for the rest of the evening.”

Quincy bit the inside of her cheek as she assessed the first mate’s message.  “I’ll tell you.”

---

It had been about three days since the argument Kid had blasted you with in front of your crew mates, your humiliation and anger toward your captain burning a hole into your lungs.  You couldn’t contain your tears for at least six hours after your initial outburst, the grief of losing your parents in the way you had all those years ago now partnered with the anguish of screaming at Kid… and spitting on his face.  The act was so beneath you, and yet.  Dive and Hip, who had seen the argument first-hand, had helped to assure you that you weren’t in the wrong for what you had said, reassuring your stance that Kid was far too intimidating when all he wanted was a simple answer for your strange behavior.

Heat had come to you with a covered plate containing the dinner you had missed, informing you that Kid still had a very poor system of managing his emotions.  While you understood this first hand, being his partner for the better part of a year, you still didn’t believe that was a proper excuse to diminish your emotions in the way he had.

After those three days of your absence, strategically avoiding him at all hours of the day, Kid was fed up.  He needed to talk.  His bed was too empty without you.

Killer told him it would be a bad idea to call you to his quarters, but he did it anyway.  And when your anxious knocking reverberated through the thick wooden door of his cabin, he was quick to call your name and grant you entry.

You stepped in, shutting the door softly behind you, keeping your head low.  Kid stood from his mattress, clearing the floor in broad steps and trying his best to lay on the charm, wrapping his large arm around you and cooing his best, casual greeting, “Hey, babe, I’ve missed you.”

You shrugged yourself away from him, your eyes downcast.  You looked… hollow.  “Did you want something from me, captain?”

Kid felt a foreign pang deep in his chest.  You hadn’t been referring to him as your boyfriend or partner.  Right now, he was strictly ‘captain,’ and that notion left him feeling far too empty and vulnerable for his liking.

Fuck, he wasn’t good at this in any way.

Your gaze bore scorching holes into his own eyes, silently demanding the apology that you knew you deserved to hear from him.  With a deep sigh, Kid turned around and stomped back to his mattress, dropping his head into his hands.

“I didn’t know your parents died,” he blurted.

You stayed quiet.

“I don’t know what you want me to say.”  His voice was a low grumble.

You suppressed a scoff.  “How about, ‘Sorry for yelling at you in front of the crew?’  Or, ‘I’m sorry for saying that your feelings don’t matter.’  Something like that, maybe.”  Your voice, in comparison, was eerily level, your time to be physically upset with the situation having expired two days ago.  Now all you were left with was an uncomfortable feeling of unease, a hole in your heart where Kid usually sat now being emptied and replaced with a barren cavern that desperately wished to be occupied by the man you loved once more.

Because you really did love him.  You knew his lifestyle, his behaviors, his tendencies toward cruelty.  And yet, he remained kind toward you.  He allowed you to open up to him and did the same in turn, and he nestled himself perfectly, albeit clumsily, into your life.  You didn’t want to lose that.

Watching as Kid clearly struggled forming those two little words on his tongue was like watching someone perform self-surgery.  His pride had impeded his sense of empathy for so long that the simple notion of apologizing was such an estranged concept for him.

How stunted.

But you held firm, remaining in front of his closed door as he kept his head in his hand, his thick fingers teasing through his slightly greasy red hair.  After what felt like an eternity, he finally picked his head up.  “I’m sorry.”

There it was.

He continued, sucking in a shaky breath.  “I really didn’t know it was the anniversary of your family’s death.  I wish I asked you about it sooner instead of… that.”

You stayed quiet.

“... Instead of yelling at you like that.  And attacking you for something that was out of your control.”  He kept his voice low, as if he was carefully picking out his words from a small bucket inside his thick skull.

After a few uncomfortable moments of silence, you released the tension in your shoulders with a sigh.  “And I’m sorry for spitting on you.  And for cursing you out.”

“No, you shouldn’t apologize,” Kid stated, finally picking up his head and gazing at you, his eyebrows furrowed.  “I deserved it, really.”  His fingers anxiously rubbed the rough fabric of his pants.  “Killer sat me down and gave me a bit of a beat down.  Physically and verbally.  Because I know I’m not good at this.  I’m not a good person.  And I really fucked up with you.”

You remained firm with your feelings, but you finally approached his bed and sat next to him, leaving a comfortable gap between your bodies that your captain, your partner, didn’t try to close.  He kept his distance from you, silently ensuring that you were allowed, and encouraged, to open up to him when you were the most comfortable.

“I just want to make sure that you actually mean it,” you whispered.  “And that you’re not just saying that without believing it.”

“I mean it,” Kid confirmed, his voice unwavering.  “I really do.”

You gazed at him apprehensively.  “... Promise?”

Silently, Kid held out his pinky toward you.

You looked at his finger, confusion glossing your features.  “What are you doing?”

“Have you never made a pinky promise before?” he asked.

Your mouth threatened to curl into a small smile.  “Can’t say that I have.”

Kid released his hand only so he could take yours, folding your fingers down so only your own pinky stuck out from your fist.  He repeated the motion with his own hand, curling his smallest digit around your own.  “It’s a promise that I mean what I said.  Killer and I used to do this all the time as kids.”

Your composure finally broke as you snorted, your own finger curling around his.  “That’s sweet…”

“The point is that, if I break the promise, you get to break my finger,” he explained.

“Suddenly everything makes sense,” you uttered, your lips finally curling into a grin.  “Don’t give me an excuse to break your finger.”

In response to your lighthearted plea, Kid raised his hand with yours still attached and pulled back down in a handshake gesture.  “Never.”

Your finger stayed curled around his as you gazed at your hand.  “I’m still kind of upset with you.”

Kid’s shoulders stiffened.  “I get why.”  After you stayed silent for a few extra moments, he finally asked, “What can I do to make it up to you?”

Your eyes bore into his once more, his gaze remaining steady as well.  “You can start by not jumping to conclusions… or being accusatory without any context.”  You sighed.  “I’m not telling you to change your entire personality, Kid, because I know who you are.  And I fell in love with the normal, regular You.  But I just ask for a little bit of kindness.”

Kid released your pinky in order to lace his entire hand with yours.  “I’ll give you more than a little.”

“Or I can break your pinky?” you asked once more, another small smile breaking out on your face.

Your partner grinned.  “I’ll throw myself overboard if you ask.”

You finally closed the gap between your bodies, tentatively laying your head on his shoulder.  “No… I wouldn’t want to lose you like that.”

[billieeilishbigsimp]

The internet is hungry for the meanest kind of funny and somebody's gotta feed it

Warning: smut, bodyshaming, mention of eating disorder, hateful people that's s all I think

Dom billie x Sub fem reader

A/n this is my first ever smut and also first fic. Please be nice. I'm sorry for any spelling errors or mistakes

Word count 1,453

Men and minors Dni

You and billie had just announced your relationship to the world a few days ago telling her fans on a live that you both have been seeing each other for the last year. You were so happy to be out and be able to be spotted in public and not have to sneak around. But your happiness was short-lived when your Instagram was flooded with a bunch of random notifications you weren't surprised due to Billie's huge fan base, but what you were surprised by the comments that were left on your Instagram post it was a bunch of nasty comments talking and nitpicking your body and looks.

"I'm happy for billie, but couldn't she choose anybody else?"

"Why does her body look like that?"

"Maybe you should gain/lose some weight."

"Eh, she is decent looking. billie could have done better."

The comments brought tears to your eyes as there was more and more coming in by the minute you had spent the last hour just scrolling and reading the comments. You couldn't stop crying. You had already been dealing with an eating disorder, and you finally felt like you had been getting better. That was until you read those comments. You would have kept reading if it wasn't for hearing the sound of keys and your front door opening and closing.

"Mamas, I'm home." You hear Billie's sweet voice call out to you. You rub your eyes, trying to mask the fact you were crying. You run to her and hug her tight she smiles and sighs, giving you a kiss on the cheek. "Missed me?" You just nod and keep holding her, which billie didn't take it as off since you were usually clingy

"I bought your favorite" billie holds up two bags one was of your favorite food from your favorite restaurant and the other from her favorite vegan restaurant she smiles but it drops when she sees that you don't look very happy she puts the bags down on the table and puts her hand on your cheek looking at you "what's wrong babygirl? You look upset" You just shake your head and put on a smile not wanting to tell her about the comments and ruin her good mood after a stressful day but she could tell something is wrong she puts her hand on your waist as she caresses your cheek with her other "talk to me"

"Billie, it's no big deal. Don't worry, what did you get?" But her eyes narrow as she looks at you she knew something was up, but she doesn't push it as you guys sit down on the couch and eat she has you sit on her lap as she rubs your thigh from time to time and kisses your neck your phone kept buzzing with notifications she asks to see your phone since you both trust each other so it was normal to hand each other your phones you gave it to her without hesitation she looks and sees that it was your Instagram that had flooded with comments she curiously clicks on them and started to read them and she was appalled at how many people who had claimed to be her "fans" and happy for her had such disgusting things to say about you it made her blood boil

She desperately wanted to comment back to them, but she knew she shouldn't she had a better idea in mind once you were done eating she started leaving soft kisses on your neck as her hands went around and caressed you moving up your sides and whispering sweet words in your ear

"You know how pretty you are, right babygirl?"

"You're so beautiful, I love you. I hope you know that."

Billie reaches out and takes your hand she pulls you up and takes you to the bedroom when you walk in ahead of her she reaches back and locks the door walking towards you and biting her lip she wraps her arms around your waist kissing you the kissing went from soft and gentle to rough and passionate. You heard her voice speak

"I saw those comments you don't believe those dumb people do you?" She asks and when she sees you look down and fidget with your fingers avoiding to answer her questions she sits down on the edge of the bed and pulls you down to your lap the thing about your bed set up was that you had a mirror on the wall facing the bed billie smirked as she rests her head on your shoulder. She reaches down and her fingers sneak under the waistband of your pants and she starts to rub your cloth covered clit starting off slowly making you whine.

"Billie, what are you doing..." she just smiles and kisses your cheek.

"I am gonna make you realize how beautiful you really are." She said before moving your panties to the side and rubbing your clit she speeds up a little making you moan her other hand moving from around and goes up to play with your breasts foundling them and pinching your ripples in between her fingers she kisses on your shoulder and neck "mm.. you're so beautiful, mamas don't listen to those people."

Billie then takes her middle finger and ring finger tracing your entrance, teasing you before she pushes them inside, loving the moans that escape your lips when you lean your head back against her shoulder she slows down her pace making you whine "no no look at the mirror baby look at how pretty you are taking my fingers like a good girl" she kisses your cheek as you look at the mirror with lided eyes a faint blush on your cheeks due to embarrassment "billie" You moan out her name as she speeds up adding another finger. She just shushes you, telling you to take it and saying how beautiful you are she pinches your nipple one more time. feeling yourself get closer and closer to your climax, rocking your hips against her fingers, billie could tell you were close by the way you were clenching on her fingers

Before you could cum she gets up pushes you off her lap onto all fours in front of the mirror whining at the lose of contact you try rubbing your thighs together for a small bit of friction but you were left unsatisfied. When billie came back a blindfold and a purple strap on wrapped around her waist, she lines up your hole and her dildo before slowly pushing inside. "You like that, Mama?" She says before pushing all the way in you couldn't even answer her back mouth a gap with and eyes fighting stay open hot tears running down your cheeks when you don't answer billie slaps your ass "don't make me ask you again" you moan out "y-yes feels s'good" she smirks grabbing a fist full of your hair pulling it as she continues to pound you. Your ass bouncing against her front. The only sounds being heard in the room were the sound of skin slapping against one another and your filthy moans filling the room.

"Close baby?" Billie ask swaying her hair to the other side as she fucks you with her strap. All you could do was nod and beg to cum "please let me cum billie please n-need..... need to feel good" billie picks up her pace going faster "cum for me babygirl" and with that you feel yourself going over the edge your arms giving out only thing holding you up was your shaking legs and on you shoulder fsce buried in the pillow moaning her name and other praise. Billie's head goes back as she continues slowly riding out your orgasm before slowly pulling out, fully leaving you feeling empty. She takes off the strap, picking you up and taking into the bathroom setting you down on the edge of the bath and she runs a bubble bath for you and her making sure to add your favorite bath bombs. She sats you down in between her legs, rubbing up your back with soap, massaging your shoulders while kissing your cheek, whispering sweet nothings into your ear. After she was done washing you and her up and drying you both off. She puts on a sports bra and boxers while putting on one of her oversized t-shirts on you, tucking you both into bed. Before going to sleep, she takes a picture of you both cuddling, posting it on her Instagram with the caption "I love my girlfriend, if you hate on her don't bother calling yourself my fan if you can't truly be happy for me"

[evieismol]

Big Bend - Chapter Two

Cw: cursing, mentions of man eating giants (nothing comes of it)

Previous

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.

.

Texas was really fucking big. Yeah, I knew that was like it's whole thing - “everything's bigger in Texas” - but I still hadn't been expecting it to be this big. I'd been driving all day, and I'd watched the sun move from the east to overhead to west and then finally disappear behind the horizon, leaving the faded orange sky that currently sprawled in front of me. I'd entered the state while the sun was somewhere between east and overhead, almost seven hours ago, and based on my phone's map, I still had another hour to go before I'd reach my destination. 

Growing up in Connecticut and having spent the last three years mostly staying in the same neighborhood in Seattle, I found myself more than a little shocked.

 I probably should have expected this, I thought. I mean, what was I expecting taking a job in the state with the aforementioned motto, at a place called Big Bend. 

Well, I wanted to get away from things, and by the looks of it, I've certainly succeeded at that at least.

Miles of desert stretched on for as far as the eye could see in every direction. 

Yup. Nailed it. 

Despite still being an hour away, I felt anxiety bubbling up in my stomach as I approached what was going to be both my new job and home. I'd never worked at a national park before. Granted, I'd only be working there as a gift shop clerk - not a cool job like being a park ranger. Still, it was entirely out of my comfort zone. Several days of driving out of my comfort zone, to be exact. 

The job offered room and board, though, and when it was between spending the last of my money on gas and driving to the other side of the country versus hoping to get a bed at a women's shelter that already didn't have enough beds, I would apparently choose the first option. 

I just really hoped I didn't regret it. 

The dim orange sky continued to fade as I drove on. Hotel California played faintly over the radio. When the sky was almost entirely dark, I finally saw it. 

The large wood sign sat on the side of the road. There was just enough light left to make out the words. I slowed to a crawl as I drove past.

“Big Bend National Park,” I murmured. “Here goes way more than nothing.” 

I continued on, the sign fading into gray dusk as I sped up again. It wasn't long before lights appeared in front of me. They grew larger quickly. Soon, the navigation on my phone showed I'd arrived at my destination. Panther Junction. As I stared at the lights in front of me in the otherwise dark desert, it hit me that I hadn't quite arrived at my destination. Not exactly. I'd been told to go to Panther Junction, where I'd be working and living, but instructions beyond that were unclear. The series of roads, parking lots, and buildings in front of me left far more options than I would have liked. The main visitor center, a two story building with what looked like a balcony, was dark. That eliminated that option, at least. The parking lot in front was also empty, and seemed like a decent enough place to park and start looking for someone who might know where I was supposed to be. 

I mean, someone has to know, right? I just really hoped that someone wasn't solely me. I pulled into a parking spot, turned my car off, and climbed out into to crisp night air. Looking around, it seemed like the lights I'd seen were behind the visitor center, so I decided I'd start there. 

God, I'd so be the first person to die in a horror. In fact, I'm pretty sure I've seen a horror movie that starts like this. 

I pushed those thoughts aside and started walking, reminding myself that this wasn't a horror movie. The walk towards the lights was silent aside from crickets. It grew steadily larger in front of me. 

Wait. 

As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, and I neared the lights, I realized something was off with the perspective. They were growing larger far too fast for any building I could imagine existing out here. Not only that, but they seemed to be sinking lower. 

If that building is so big, shouldn't they be getting higher up? 

It took several moments for me to figure out what I was staring at. All the while, I edged closer to the lights. 

Maybe it's an optical illusion? A mirage? Those happen in deserts, right? 

I was hardly an expert in deserts, but I felt like I'd heard somewhere that mirage had something to do with sun and heat, both of which the night was currently lacking. 

As I drew closer, I became even more confused. The lights belonged to a building that sat in a canyon in front of me. That alone wasn't weird. What was, though, were both the size and proportions of the building. It looked like a camper. The vintage kind that wouldn't seem out of place on a postcard from a national park. However, it was at least several hundred feet tall, obscured only by the canyon it lay in. Speaking of the canyon - I should be nearing the edge. I cautiously lifted my phone’s light from directly in front of me to further out. Just as I'd guessed, there was a sharp drop off about seven feet away. It was just barely illuminated by my phone's light. Deciding I didn't want to add “falling off a sheer cliff in the middle of nowhere” to the day's activities, I started to trace the edge of the cliff with my light, moving it to my left.

 And then almost dropped it seconds later. 

It took me a moment once again to process what I was looking at, and when I did, my eyes widened. The person sitting against the cliff wall to my side was huge. Even that descriptor felt like an understatement. He was large enough that my brain had registered him as another rock formation in the darkness as I'd been walking up, because surely a living being couldn't be that large. 

Well, I guess that explains the giant building. 

And raises about a dozen more questions. 

He was tall enough that my flashlight only actually illuminated a portion of the green sweater he was wearing. He noticed me mere moments after I noticed him, and his eyes widened. I felt like he probably also would have almost dropped his flashlight if he'd been carrying one. He quickly took out his airpods - or airpod lookalikes, since I wasn't sure they made airpods that big. 

"Sorry. I didn't mean to startle you," I said quickly. 

"It's fine," he said, looking more confused than I felt. "I mean, I'm sorry. I didn't hear you walk up, I was listening to music." 

"I'm kind of surprised you heard me at all. Wait, should I be talking louder?" I wasn't really sure what the etiquette was for talking to giants, admittedly.

In fact, the term ‘giant’ in itself was something of an umbrella term. There were technically several kinds of beings from various realms that were referred to as giants. Some more humanoid than others, some larger than others. The most well known, and common, around Earth were Tyastrons. I'd worked with one briefly during a summer job when I was in high-school. I was fairly certain I didn't remember her being anywhere near the size of the young man in front of me, though. She had been around 40 feet tall. That was still positively ginormous to me, at 5’5”. The giant in front of me would have easily dwarfed her, though. Even sitting down, he was at least 100 feet tall. 

 He shook his head. 

"No, you're good. Really good hearing is like an Aphirial thing-" 

"You're an Aphirial?" I asked, realizing I cut him off halfway through my question. I cringed internally. 

I remembered hearing that name a few times in the past. Mostly in connection with campfire tales or horror films. They were like, super scary man eating giants, in both of said works.

Fuck, I would so be the first person to die in a horror movie. 

“...yeah.” He answered my question in a cautious tone. 

Now that my eyes had adjusted more, and I was focusing on him, I could make out some more details of his appearance. His hair was his most striking feature. It was a pale blonde - almost white - that I would have assumed was the result of bleach, if I wasn't unsure as to whether or not Aphirials could or did bleach their hair. It fell down to his shoulders, framing a pair of green eyes and a face that looked about my age, despite being several times the size of my entire body. 

Said eyes glittered with apprehension. His brows were drawn together. Overall, no indications of human eating or any other kind of malice. If he wanted to hurt me, he had already had plenty of opportunity to do so. It wouldn’t take much effort for him to reach up and grab me. He made no move to do so. 

Okay, so he’s probably not going to kill me. Right now, at least. 

I probably should have been more concerned at that possibility, but I’d had a very trying past couple of months. 

“So…you like, live out here?” I asked finally. 

“oh-yeah! I'm going to work here. I mean, I live here because of that. I'm going to be a park ranger here.” 

The last sentence made something click in my memory - a tirade from Jack I'd almost forgotten about. One of many, and one I'd been too relieved hadn't been about me to remember. A few months ago he'd been upset about some national park hiring an Aphirial. 

"That's cool," I said. Mostly because it was the first thing to come to mind.

 "I wanted to be a park ranger when I was a kid."  That had been the second thing to come to mind.

 I thankfully didn't say the third thing, which was that I probably didn't have to worry about him eating me then if he was a park ranger, because that had to go against job rules. Instead, I skipped to the fourth. 

“I'm going to be working here too. Not as anything as cool as a park ranger. Just in the gift shop. Speaking of which…I'm glad I ran into you then, because I just got in, and I wasn't really sure where I was supposed to go, but I saw your lights off in the desert and thought maybe someone would be out here.” 

“Huh," Easton said, in a way that made me pretty sure he was also thinking about my lack of survival instinct in wandering off into the dark desert. “I'm not entirely sure. I'll try to help figure it out, though - I bet John might know, or know someone who knows anyways.” 

Before I could question who John was, he continued. “You have no idea who John is, though. Uh, he works for the IMA, technically, but now he also works at the park. As my supervisor. Which I think is a fancy way of saying handler - anyways, uh, why don't I just go get him?” 

“Yeah, sure,” I said. “Thank you.” 

“Will you be alright here?” He asked, gesturing to the dark desert around us. 

I shrugged. “Oh, yeah. What's the worst that can happen, a flesh pedestrian mimics my late mother's voice and lures me out into the night to steal my skin?” 

He gave me an confused look. "I-uh-what?'

"Just joking. I'll be fine,” I said, wincing at my awkward attempt at humor. I'd never been good at it. Or really talking to people in general. Apparently that hadn't changed, even if the person in question was the size of a building.

“Right. Uh, okay, I'll be back in a just a minute,” he said. “I'm just going to stand up and walk over to the trailer.” 

I thought it was a bit unnecessary for him to announce his movements, until he actually stood up. Even though I could have guessed he was somewhere around two hundred feet tall based on his size while sitting, the reality of what that meant hit me like a freight train as he drew himself up to his full height. His face had been almost level with the cliff edge I stood on previously. Now he towered over me. And the cliff itself. I swallowed. It was somewhere between surreal, terrifying, and really cool to be looking up at someone the size of a small skyscraper. To be interacting with them. 

The giant paused, looking down at me. 

“Sorry, what was your name?” 

“Oh, right. I'm Zoey. Zoey Summers. What was yours?” 

“Easton Parks.” 

“Park Ranger Parks,” I noted with a small laugh.  

“It is a little ironic, isn't it? You can just call me Easton, though.” He laughed softly as well. “Anyways, I won't be long getting John, and I'm sure he'll at least know who to contact.” 

I nodded, then wondered if he could even see it, between my size and the darkness. He gave a short nod of his own in response. Apparently he could. 

I watched him turn and begin to move toward the giant trailer. As he did, I noticed a sort of tremor in the ground beneath me. It took me a second to put together it was caused by his footsteps. 

Damn. 

He disappeared into the trailer shortly, leaving me alone in the dark desert once more to ponder what had just happened. Out of all the things I'd been expecting to find out here, an Aphirial was very much not one of them. Still, he seemed quite nice, and he was helping me. I'd take a helpful Aphirial over an unhelpful Human any day, I decided. 

It didn't take long for Easton to return. He seemed to be just as alone at first. As he drew nearer, though, I could make out that he was holding something in one hand. It wasn't until he had announced he was going to crouch down, and was once again almost eye level with the cliff, that I realized what it was. Or more, who it was. The man in the center of his looked older than both of us by at least a decade. Despite the fact that he was literally in someone's hand, he possessed an air of authority noticeable even from where I stood. Easton slowly lowered his hand to the cliff. The man - John, I guessed - climbed off smoothly. 

“So, you must be Zoey.” 

Next

[cutestkilla]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers (except me because obvs I have done it). Spread the self-love ❤

Thank you so much for this ask (and @bookish-bogwitch and @aristocratic-otter too). You're all amazing and your self-recs are too - I cosign them all!

So: this is the first time I've gotten one of these where I actually HAVE 5+ fics (of my own) to choose from 😂 so you know what, even though it's a *somewhat* trivial process, I'm gonna DO THE THING and come up with a Top 5.

1. What's Left (133K, M)

My first fic, and still my favourite. Probably because conceptually, I don't think I'll ever come up with something this cool or interesting again. And also because I got to spend so many words with my version of the Humdrum (who many of you know as Sid), expanding on what we know of him from canon and all the ways he intersects with Simon, and I kind of just love him alot. This is definitely the plottiest thing I've ever written, with lots of twists and turns and what I think is a sort of an arc you can't predict from the start (pioneering the Baz/Humdrum tag!!), and that made it really fun to write, and I hope fun to read too. Also, this is the most painful thing I've written (it starts with Simon dead, folks), which if you know me at all, explains why it would be my favourite. 😂

2. Hiding Out in the Open (48K, M - WIP 5/7 chapters)

This takes the #2 spot for sure because: a) it's also got a decent amount of pain courtesy of an alt-WS divergence setting and b) it's also kinda high concept. And c) I'm writing it as a very drawn out birthday gift for my beloved @artsyunderstudy in honour of what is now OUR beloved psychology podcast of choice, Hidden Brain. My favourite thing about this one is the way I've worked all these real concepts in psychology (and real episodes of Hidden Brain) into the narrative in a way that I think feels organic and true to the characters. It's been a challenging puzzle to solve, but man have I learned some cool things along the way. This one IS a WIP, but I'm going full steam ahead on it, and even though the story is NOT over, ch 5 ends in a decently satisfying place.

3. Slamming and Smashing (18K, E)

My first (and only) E-rated fic! I'm more of a soft smut writer, but I had so much fun writing this one as a gift for @ic3-que3n based on prompts that included: NSFW, Simon slamming Baz into a wall (as referenced in Snow for Christmas), a very specific line from Bram Stoker's Dracula about wild rose, AND an Anastasia AU. This one is pretty low on pain/angst and high on post-canon fluff, but I did still give Baz a *bit* of a breakdown in it 😂. I'm proud of this one because I think it's hot and also because I managed to hit ALL those prompts in one smutty fic, and tell what I think is a pretty relatable story about how hard communicating can be in relationships.

4. Episode 5: The Tardigrade and His Boy (25K, T)

Another gift fic, this time for @raenestee! This was not only an amazingly fun collaboration with @facewithoutheart @aristocratic-otter @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @thewholelemon

@mostlymaudlin and @artsyunderstudy, but I found a way to have the Humdrum front and centre again which makes me so happy. I also cut my teeth writing Shep and Agatha POVs for the first time in this one, which was very fun. And I managed to write one of my most favourite types of fics: one that is both an AU and also secretly canon-compliant. This is my only true AU and I think it's a really fun romp (just like the rest of the series which I highly recommend).

5. This Is Your Place (18K, M)

This one was for Prompt Fest 2022 (a fest to celebrate the anniversary of @carryonprompts where - reminder - you can submit your Carry On fic prompt ideas and maybe someone will write them) and filled this prompt by @bookish-bogwitch:

"@ionlydrinkhotwater wrote this meta: "Omg Simon is such a ho, in retaliation for Baz pulling the open sesame move, he dashes to their room, showers, shaves (nicking his skin so he's a little bit bloody and therefore yummy) and "accidentally" comes out in just pajama bottoms with his tits full out, without the necklace." ... And I want to read a fic where Baz fuckin' Takes. The. BAIT."

What I think I did well in this one is building up both the tension and the empathy between Simon and Baz in a way that makes the payoff feel earned, even though the story only takes place over the course of a few hours, the day Baz gets back to Watford after the numpties. I also really love my Baz inner monologue in this, and that Simon gets to be a little bit smooth, too.

[standfucker]

"The Fall of Ideals"

Character: Maren (young adult version)

Reader: AFAB

Word Count: 11.3k

CW: recreational drug use, explicit N.SFW content, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, size difference/size kink

Summary: Going to the Riptide Rock Festival instead of studying for your exam was one bad decision. A chance encounter with a stranger leads you to making several more.

Ao3 Link

[Happy Birthday @mewiyev! I swear I'm normal about Maren (hides word count) >.> In all seriousness, I truly adore this amazing character that you've created and I hope that shines through in this gift! Thank you for sharing him with the world!]

“This next song has never been heard before!” The lead singer of Violincense announces into the mic, prompting screams of excitement from the crowd. “We’re debuting it here at Riptide, the single for our next album–we present to you, Smokescream!”

The sound drifts from afar as you hurry back toward the crowd, having left to throw away your empty cup between songs. A rookie mistake, you soon realized, as the crowd closed up behind you, and now you were having trouble penetrating the throng of bodies. Had you any experience with these things, you would have just held onto the damn cup. Now you’re going to miss getting a good view of the band for what is possibly history in the making. You know Violincense was on the cusp of making it big, and here was your chance to watch it happen, front and center.

The crowd had formed itself into groups roughly based on size, with the tallest people closer to the back and sides. Some people of average height opted to stay close to their big friends, often sitting on their shoulders. One especially big man even wore some kind of shoulder-mounted table, carrying six of his friends. You can't help but feel a little jealous as you squeeze past them. You’re here alone, after all.

“S’cuse me…” you mumble, feeling out of place. Everyone else was dressed in band shirts and worn jackets, spiked bracelets and collars and chokers. In comparison, you look plain, but even if the trip to this venue hadn’t been last minute, you would’ve had nothing to wear anyway. It wasn’t your wisest choice to abandon studying for your big upcoming exam and blow all your food money on tickets, travel, and board for a rock festival. But now that you're here, that all seems like minor worries, a drop in the bucket of life. Who knows when you would get to do something like this again?

The Riptide Rock Fest was one of the biggest rock festivals on the Grand Line. Sporting multiple stages across the grounds and a myriad of different tents, it was a three-day haven to all fans of rock music genres. Each day had one big headliner show in the evening, with lesser-known bands filling the side stages throughout the day. It was currently the second day of the festival, and Violincense was one of the small bands you had been especially excited for, so you were eager to get back to a good spot before they started.

Alas, you were still stuck behind a wall of taller folk, unable to see the stage. The sound of drumsticks striking each other sounded as the band counted off, before a heavy guitar riff started the song. You paused to take it in, then shook your head and kept anxiously making your way along the perimeter of bodies, unable to find your way in and too polite to push through.

Finally, you spot an opening: closer to the middle and slightly off to the side, there's a little bit of space. The only person there is one of the big people, some guy that has to be at least fifteen feet tall. For some reason, he's being given a wide berth by those around him, but you don’t give it any thought as you dart for that spot before it gets taken. 

As you get closer, you see the potential reason people are leaving him be: rows of large, menacing spines stick out of his back through his clothes. However, those spines are far too high up to be a danger to you, so you step into place next to him and are at last able to get a decent view of the stage. Up close, the man is even more massive–not just tall, but thick-bodied and muscular, his burly arms alone bigger than you are. You decide to just avoid eye contact and return your focus to the show.

Smokescream, like all of Violincense’s music, sucks you right in from the start. Hearing the band live is a completely different experience. Sure, a studio recording could let a band trim off the imperfections in the sound, but it isn’t the same. This was how music was meant to be heard, you think. The fast-paced, harmonic chords strike you personally, heavy drums feeling like they’re replacing your heartbeat. Swept up in the music,  you’re so invested you don’t notice that the huge man is staring at you until halfway through the song, when you glance and accidentally meet his eye.

You stare back for a moment, stunned. He’s astonishingly handsome, if not a bit intimidating; a broad jaw and strong nose that balanced his features well, long, reddish brown hair that matches the color of his spines, a simple goatee, and gauged ears. He's wearing a black leather vest covered in various patches, but no shirt, showing off his husky build, a pair of faded green cargo shorts, and platform boots adorned in belts. His light skin sports a fair share of bruises and he's a bit scuffed up, likely from a mosh pit. Unlike you, he looks entirely in his element. 

The man watched you with a sour, unimpressed look, eyes slightly narrowed. Suddenly self-conscious, you look away, distracting yourself by pulling out one of the spliffs you had rolled earlier from your pocket and lighting it. After a few hits, you’re able to relax a little more, turning your focus back to the stage. You don’t think about the man until the next song comes to a close, the crowd cheering on the tail end of the final notes, when he leans over slightly in your direction.

“Do you need something?” he asks, sounding annoyed.

It wasn’t just his spines that kept others away. You’re abruptly aware of the prickly energy he’s giving off, his tone as guarded as his body language. Still, you have no idea what he’s talking about, so you just give him a look of confusion in response.

“What are you doing here?” he presses.

You look over at the band, then back up at him. “...Is that a trick question?”

“I mean here, in this spot.” He points at the ground. “Do you normally make a habit of approaching strange men?”

“You talked to me first,” you point out, pulling the cig from your mouth.

“Everyone else got the damn hint,” he says gruffly.

“I’m too short to care about the spines,” you say, wondering what his problem is. “And anyway, I wasn’t aware you owned this section.”

He leans forward a bit more, towering over your space. “It ain’t the spines you gotta worry about, small fry.”

“What are you gonna do? Bite me?”

“That’s right.” He smiles, showing off pointed teeth. It's not a friendly smile, but it looks good on him anyway, though it makes you uncertain–he really is enormous, easily a threat to someone your size.

Maybe it’s because you’re in a new place, already out of your comfort zone. Maybe it’s the few beers already in you at that point. But instead of giving him space like a sane person would, you instead respond, “don’t threaten me with a good time.”

That makes him smile even wider, leaning forward just a bit more. “I’m part Fish-man, you know. My teeth are razor sharp.”

“Even better.”

He laughs, his face lighting up in his amusement. You feel your face get warm and quickly stick the cig back in your mouth before you say something else embarrassing. He has a nice laugh.

The band announces that they are playing their last song of the set. Neither you nor your neighbor speak for the entirety of it. Either he likes the music too much to bother you, or he decided you were alright after all; regardless, he leaves you alone until the song is over. After the cheering of the crowd dies down, he turns back to you.

“I gotta say, I didn’t expect that coming from you.”

You rub the back of your neck, distinctly aware how plain you look. “I know I’m not dressed for a concert. I don’t really own any band shirts.”

“Why not?”

“I’m not allowed.”

“Not allowed?” He suddenly looks uncomfortable. “Are you a teenager?”

“Nope. Just a college student with a ruthlessly strict mother.”

“She sounds like a bitch.”

“Don’t call my mom a bitch,” you snap, all playfulness gone.

He isn’t thwarted even slightly, lip curling into a sneer. Reaching out with one giant hand, he pokes you in the chest, easily making you stumble back and imposing the difference in your strength. “What are you gonna do about it, small fry?”

Maybe it’s just your imagination, but you could have sworn he had gotten bigger. You falter for a second, shocked that he would get physical and a bit intimidated. Then you get mad. If he’s going to be a cunt, you would be a cunt right back.

You stub out your spliff on his finger, hearing it sizzle. The man jerks his hand back with a yelp. “Ow! Fuck!”

“I'm not gonna let you push me around,” you bluff, pretending to be braver than you are. Jerks usually prefer easy targets, but there's still a chance he might get aggressive. You bare your teeth and pray he's all talk. “We're surrounded by people. Try me.”

“Are you stupid?” he growls, cradling his burned hand. “You could get seriously hurt, messing with guys like me. Sheesh…and you still haven’t taken the hint.” He grumbles, sticking his finger into his mouth, but he does not do anything else, and you deflate a little in relief.

Violincense announces that they're playing an encore, and the crowd roars as they launch into a familiar track–one of their most popular songs, Nightingales.

Attempting to ignore your surly neighbor, you close your eyes to really take in your favorite part of the song. Then you stare at the stage intensely, trying to burn the image of the band playing it into your memory. As it comes to a close, you glance at the huge man again. He’s closed his eyes, too, a serene look on his face as he listens. Right then, you feel bad for him–he just wants to enjoy the music in peace, like you. Maybe you overreacted.

“I’m sorry,” you tell him once the music stops.

“Whatever,” he spits, then mumbles, “you must be lonely, talking to me.”

“Yeah, I am,” you shrug. “But I’d bet you are, too. I mean, have you heard these lyrics?”

He looks surprised that you’d admit it so casually. Then he huffs, looking away. “I know em’ by heart.”

The crowd starts to move around you as the band packs up their things. You stick your hands in your pockets, feeling awkward. “Hey, uh, look… I’m sorry I did that. Really. I’ll make it up to you,” you said. “Want a pretzel or something? I’ll buy.”

The man visibly perks up, giving you another look of surprise. He’s kind of cute like this…

“They’re stale and oversalted,” you say enticingly, offering a hesitant smile. “But the cheese dip is…well, it also sucks, but at least it’s hot.”

“Fuck yeah,” the man grins from ear to ear. “I won’t say no to free food.”

You both head to the food tents, introducing yourselves on the way. You learned his name was Maren–“just Maren,” as he said after you gave him your last name. A lot of the patches on his vest were of bands you liked, so you were able to find some common ground despite the rough start.

You ended up buying Maren three soft pretzel sticks, just because he was so much larger–it only seemed fair. His attitude did a complete 360 at that, thrilled at the gesture.

“Thanks,” he says, and you nod, pulling out a program flier to see where the next band you wanted to watch would play. Maren peers over your shoulder as he shoves a cheese-slathered pretzel stick into his mouth. “Where ya headed next?”

“South stage,” you replied. “Shitty Kitties is playing soon.”

“Hm,” his voice is slightly garbled by his full mouth, which he does not hesitate to speak through, “Shitty Kitties? Kinda gimmicky, don’t ya think?”

“They're cool! The lead singer is a puma zoan. He transforms his vocal chords to do these crazy growls.”

“Exactly. A gimmick, not real skill.”

“Who cares how he does it, so long as it sounds good?”

“He leans on it too much. He can’t sing for shit, small fry.”

“Small fry,” you echoe, “is that a Fish-man thing?”

“Because of your shirt,” Maren points. You’re wearing a graphic tee that has cartoon french fries and tater tots, engaged in a shootout and bleeding ketchup.

“This my favorite shirt,” you say defensively.

“You have dorky taste.”

“Why do you think I’m talking to you?”

Maren grins. “Watch yourself, sweetheart. I haven’t decided if I’m going to eat you yet.” Despite his words, he’s less intimidating with a bit of cheese sauce smeared on his mouth.

“There you go again, threatening me with a good time,” you joke.

He smiles back, and your stomach does a weird little flip. For being kind of a jerk, he really is good-looking. Still, it’s probably in your best interests to wish him well and part ways here.

“Wanna go to the south stage together?” Maren asks.

“Yes,” you immediately reply.

You only made it to the Riptide Rock Fest by doing what you weren’t supposed to–what was one more bad decision?

Maren stuffs the rest of the food into his face, finishing it in two huge bites, and wipes his mouth on the back of his hand. You stare as he licks the sauce off his hand, following the trailing of his tongue. He meets your eyes as he does, grinning to himself when you break eye contact to look away and clear your throat.

“What is it, sweetheart? See something you like?” he teases.

“No–I wasn’t–you’re just messy,” you stammer, failing to save face. Trying to distract him, you point up at his vest. “Hey, isn’t that a Shitty Kitties patch? What gives?”

Maren looks a bit embarrassed. “That was from years ago. I’ve had this jacket for a long time–hey, don’t change the subject, now.”

Caught red-handed and losing your buzz, you start to walk away, feeling your usual shyness resurfacing now that the intoxication is wearing off. Maren follows you, hooking his thumbs into his pockets and chatting as you walk. He has no trouble making conversation, and picks up the slack where you falter. You find it easy to talk to him, and the more you talk, the more you want to know more about him. However, he dodges questions relating to himself, either outright ignoring them or just deflecting with more questions. By the time you make it to the south stage, you feel like you're talking about yourself too much, but he seems to prefer it that way.

“So where are your friends at?” Maren asks, as if it would be unthinkable for you to have come by yourself.

“Where are yours?” you try.

“Came alone.” It was the only direct answer from him in the last twenty minutes.

“Me too.”

“What, your friends don’t like rock?”

You shift from foot to foot, unsure how to respond in a way that doesn’t make you sound like a complete loser. “I don’t, uh… I don’t have any friends,” you admit. “Not where I live, anyway. After I graduated high school, mom moved us halfway around the world. Relocated to the best college she could find. I haven’t made any new friends since. Most students at that university are the entitled, wealthy type.”

“And you’re not?” Maren teases lightly.

You wrinkle your nose. “I got a full ride through scholarships.”

“Sure, sure,” he grins when you make a face at him, enjoying riling you up, “so you’re the nerdy type of smart! I knew it.” 

You doubt he really knew it, and are starting to wonder if he’s flirting with you. He seems to like your company, anyway. Oh, shit, is he flirting with you? 

Suddenly uncertain, you went for the only distraction you could think of, digging into your pocket for another pre-rolled spliff. “If I was actually smart,” you say, “I wouldn’t be here. I should be studying for this huge exam, but…” you trail off.

“But…?” Maren prompts.

“I felt like if I looked at one more book, I’d completely lose it.” You pat your pocket to search for your lighter. “All I ever do is study. I’m sick of it! I had to do something else or I’d snap. And I’ve always wanted to go to a concert–ugh, where the fuck is my lighter?”

Maren pulls a lighter from one of the many pockets on his shorts. “Here,” he says, crouching down low in front of you. You reach to accept the lighter from him, but he gently bats your hand away and instead holds the lighter up to your mouth. His hands are so large compared to the tiny spliff that he has to lean in close and focus, his tongue sticking out slightly. Carefully, he lights the spliff, his face filling your vision, and you find yourself staring again. The warmth from the lighter’s flame almost doesn’t register over your own heated cheeks.

“There we go,” he says, eyes darting up from the lighter to meet your own gaze. You glance away, the eye contact a bit much for you sober, and when you look back, he’s still leaning close, now smiling big. “Something wrong?”

“It’s nothing,” you reply quickly. “You, uh, want a drag?”

“Depends. What’s in it?”

“Just weed and tobacco.”

“Hell yeah, hand it over.” 

You hand him the spliff, and he takes a deep drag, nodding to himself in approval. “This is good shit. You’re not as straight-laced as you seem, huh? Guess momma doesn’t know about this.”

“I have special hiding places for it,” you say. “No matter how much she digs through my shit, she won’t find it.”

“Sounds like you need to live on campus.” Maren passes the spliff back.

“I do,” you say bluntly, taking a drag and exhaling in a sigh. “She searches my things when she visits.”

“Yeesh. Why do you defend her?”

It’s not as simple as Maren makes it sound, and you aren’t sure how to put that into words. Luckily, before you can think of an answer, a familiar, high-pitched snarl echoes over the speakers. You look to the stage as the crowd cheers, but the view is completely obscured by other concert goers closer to Maren’s size. If you want to actually see Shitty Kitties, you’ll have to part ways and head up further to the “smalls” section of the crowd.

“Aw, hell. I guess I gotta go,” you say reluctantly.

“Wait!” Maren shouts to be heard over the lead singer’s introduction. “You can sit on my shoulder!”

“You’re full of spikes!” you shout back.

Maren pauses, thinking for a second. “No big deal! Here, sit on my arm!” He flexes one burly arm, patting it. “No spines and a perfect view of the stage! Deluxe seating, compliments of Maren. Whaddaya say?”

You blink, flattered at the offer but not wanting to impose. “But…won’t you get tired?”

“Nope!” Maren flexes his arm further, showing off his impressive muscles and grinning proudly.

He doesn't want you to leave, you realize. The thought gives you butterflies in your stomach that the spliff doesn't help to calm. Maren is roguishly attractive and good company, and he wants you around–why not accept?

“Alright,” you nod. “How do I get up theRE–!”

The moment you consent, Maren picks you up, wrapping his hands around your hips and hoisting you onto his upper arm as your words turn into a cry of surprise. Suddenly fourteen feet off the ground, you grip the fabric of his vest tightly, tucking your legs under his arm to hold on.

“Don’t worry, I won’t let you fall,” Maren says cheerfully, patting your shoulder with his upheld hand.

You giggle nervously. From up here, you can see above the heads of the taller people and have an excellent view of the stage. Just in time, too, as the lead singer of Shitty Kitties finishes hyping up the crowd and begins counting down to their first song of the set.

“One, two, three!” The lead singer yells, then snarls into the mic.

“Oh! Oh!!” you exclaim. “This is Blightmare!”

Maren grins at your excitement. He nods along to the music, careful not to move you too much, and you pass the spliff back and forth as you enjoy the song. Blightmare was an old cult classic, one of your favorites. Once it hits the main verse, you're far too enthralled to not scream out the lyrics–hell, everyone else is.

“ROWR! I’m the wrong kinda crowd / I’m the devil in the day / and I’m no good for you / but you like it that way!”

You glance at Maren to see that he’s singing along, too. You can’t hear him, much less yourself, but you both grin at each other as you sing. The high of the spliff compounds the intoxicating feeling of the music, until you wrap one arm around Maren’s upheld one so you can steady yourself while headbanging.

“Fuck yeah!” Maren shouts, throwing devil horns up with his free hand. The both of you get swallowed up by the energy of your surroundings, screaming along song lyrics and pumping your fists for every song that plays. The set concludes what feels like far too early, and people begin to move around the two of you as they make their way to other stages.

“That was amazing!” you laugh, exhilarated. 

“It was pretty cute, hearing you try to growl like the lead singer,” Maren says.

Your chest tightens in a good way, and you giggle nervously, shaking your head. “My vocal chords will regret that tomorrow. But fuck it, right?”

“That’s right!”

“I didn’t know this would be so much fun! I’m so glad I came!”

“Is this your first time?” Maren asks, crouching down so he can let you off him.

“Yep. First concert ever.” You land and get your bearings, patting down your jeans. “There are lots of things I’ve missed out on because all my time was spent studying. Morning drills before class, prep school after, then homework in the evening.”

“Why don’t you just quit?” Maren asks like it’s obvious, and you balk at him.

“What? I can’t do that.”

“Sure you can. It sucks, you clearly don’t like it. So quit.”

“You don’t understand,” you explain. “Mom gave up everything to get me here. We were dirt poor. She would even skip meals to make sure I was fed. She worked hard to give me this opportunity! I can’t just throw that away.”

Maren doesn't look convinced, but he doesn’t argue, either, merely shrugging. “Well, alright. Where ya wanna go next?”

You look down to hide your smile, thrilled that he wants to keep hanging out with you. Pulling out the flier, you squint at it. “A band called ‘M-K’ is going to play on this stage. What’s ‘M-K?’”

“Monochrome Kaleidoscope.”

“Oh. Well, they’re up next. And on the east stage, there’s Taka Tora Batta… and BB Thunder on the north. They should all finish around the same time, right before the headliner plays on the center stage.”

The headliner for the second day was Preyer, a band with a self-described “carnivore gothic” theme that was rapidly growing in popularity. Maren hadn’t brought them up at all yet, which was surprising–they seemed to be right up his alley, considering his taste in other bands.

“I don’t have a preference either way–I’m good with whatever,” he says.

“Me too. Why don’t we stay here, then?” you suggest. “We can move up closer and get a better spot in the crowd. If we go stand right at the border between the large and small section, you won’t have to hold me up the whole time.”

“I don’t mind,” Maren winks, making you flush warm, “but alright. Sounds like a plan.”

You feel far more at ease walking through the crowds with Maren at your side. Concerts are supposed to be a group event in the first place, and with such an open venue, you had some concerns about being by yourself. But even other big people would think twice before starting a fight with Maren, which was all the more reason you should have never gambled on ticking him off earlier. A stupid risk, but in a weird way, the action seemed to gain his respect–and now that you had each other to hang out with, you’d never been happier in making such a string of poor decisions.

You and Maren find the good spot you had mentioned earlier, the people behind you all larger like him, and the people in front of you average-sized. Maren opts to sit down, as he’s still tall enough from there to see over the “shorties,” as he calls them. You, on the other hand, can't sit without losing sight of the stage, so you lean against him instead, mindful of the spikes.

Monochrome Kaleidoscope was a band that seems to be a mix of electronic and jam rock subgenres. They switch off between playing songs from their newest album, Shatterstatic, and having jam sessions right there on stage, improvising for five minute segments. The drums and synth players decide on a beat and background, and the rest of the musicians jump in with their instruments one at a time. You've never seen anything like it before, and let Maren know as much in between songs.

“Oh, yeah, M-K’s great.” He gives you a lazy grin. “I need to see if their merch table is selling patches later. Don’t have theirs yet.”

“If you hold our spot, I’ll go look for you,” you offer.

“Alright! Thanks, sweetheart.”

You flush warm and quickly excuse yourself before your flustering becomes obvious. As you weave through the “smalls” section, you couldn’t stop smiling to yourself. Maren is the last person you’d ever expect yourself to crush on. A small voice in the back of your mind tells you not to get too smitten, to keep your wits about you. You have only known Maren for a few hours, and he didn’t want to talk about himself. Maybe there was a reason for that, and that reason could have been a dangerous one. But he liked your company. And you craved the attention, truth be told. You never realized how starved you’d been for it.

The merch table was an assortment of stickers, buttons, patches, guitar picks, vinyls, and even some pricey tone dials. All of them had black-and-white designs around the band’s logo. Your hand hovered above the patches. For a moment, you considered getting two. But you didn’t have anything to put it on, and if your mother found it, she would likely throw a fit. The thought brought you out of your high somewhat  After tomorrow, you’d go back to your regular life. Back to the mundane rigors of academia and arithmetic.

There was no doubt this was the only time you’d get to hang with Maren. He’d eventually go back to whatever island he was from–hell, he might have even been a pirate (a scary thought,) in which case there was a slim chance you would ever see him again. You clenched your fists as you decided, right then and there: this weekend was your only chance to try something new. So what if he was literally rough around the edges? So what if you’d regret it later? You were far more afraid of the regret you’d feel if you didn’t take advantage of this opportunity.

Maren might only be your friend for a day, but that was one day more than you had in years. With that in mind, you went ahead and purchased a patch for him, and a guitar pick for yourself. You didn’t know how to play guitar, but the pick would be an easy-to-hide memento. 

When you returned, two songs had passed, and Maren was standing, looking far more scuffed up than when you’d left him, his hair all messy and a new rip in his pants.

“Woah, are you okay?” you ask, reaching up to touch his forearm, where a fresh bruise is forming.

“Yep. A mosh pit formed behind me, so I joined in,” he replies, letting you examine his arm. “So did they sell patches over there?”

“Yeah! Here,” you take the patch out of your bag and hold it out to him.

Maren’s eyes go wide. “You–you didn’t have to buy me one.”

You shrug. “I, uh…I wanted to. No big deal.”

He looks genuinely taken aback, a faint dusting of pink contrasting with his freckles. Then he smiles big. “Aw, thanks, babe. That’s real sweet of you.”

You’re already flustered from the pet name, so when he reaches up to brush your cheek affectionately, your brain nearly short-circuits. Face burning, you deftly avoid his gaze, staring at his arm and changing the subject.

“That looks painful,” you say, tracing the edge of the bruise.

“Nah, it’s nothing. It was fun. You should try it!”

“Moshing?” you blink at him, incredulous. “No way. I mean, me?”

“Why not? You can start one up in the ‘smalls’ section. I know you shrimps need to get out your terrier energy.”

“Wha–hey!” you laugh, making Maren grin.

“I’m serious. You said this is your first concert, right? Trying new things is good for you.”

You’re not sure what part of knocking into other people is good for you, but for some reason, you feel yourself drawn to the idea. You shouldn’t be, but what if this was the only concert you’d ever get to attend? And what is it about Maren that makes him so convincing? He’s not even pressuring you, not really. You just want to look cool in front of him, despite the fact he probably thinks you're a total dork. You want him to like you so bad, but clearly he already does, so why are you considering this?

Maren sees you looking out over the crowd hesitantly, and raises a thick finger to point. “See those people down by the southwest row? The ones jumping up and down? They look primed for it. All you have to do is scurry over there and give them a little push.”

You bite your lip. “Just like that?”

“Just like that,” he nods. “Don’t shove people who look like they don’t want to be involved, and don’t use brute force on anyone smaller than you. Help up anyone you see on the ground. Other than that, go nuts.”

You take a deep breath. “Okay…”

Maren salutes you as you head forth. You walk a little quicker, gradually picking up your pace. When you reach the aforementioned group, you're at a brisk jog, and, feeling a bit nuts, you shove into the most energetic looking guy there. 

He stumbles slightly, looking surprised. You freeze.

Suddenly you're shoved from the side by a random girl. She shouts something at the group as you recover, and then the man you shoved comes back and pushes into her. There's more yelling from the group, and then four of them start throwing themselves into the crowd around them. Pulse racing, you collect yourself and join in, running at the nearest person.

The lead singer shouts and points at your section of the crowd. The guitarist jumps in, shredding an improvised solo like a crazy man. Suddenly the area around you seems to erupt, your small group becoming a massive, frenzied pit of at least 30 people. You get jabbed with elbows and shoved into bodies, never knowing where the next impact is going to come from, but your adrenaline is pumping like crazy and you don't want to stop. 

A particularly hard shove sends you off your feet. You hit the ground and tense, expecting to get trampled, but multiple hands come out of nowhere, lifting you back onto your feet. You pause, get bumped into, and resume throwing yourself into the swarm. 

You get knocked down several more times, but every time, hands reach out from the crowd like magic and pull you back up. It's only after you're out of breath and hurting that you decide to call it quits, making your way to the edge of the mosh pit, through the crowd, and back to Maren.

“Ahh!” you inform him, overcome with adrenaline. It feels like you just got off a roller coaster. “I–I did it!”

“You were like a little tornado,” Maren chuckles. “How was it?”

“Fun!” you shout. Your body hurts in various places, and you're banged up and bruised, but grinning like a maniac.

“Attagirl!” He holds out his fist to you, and you punch it.

It takes you a bit to catch your breath. You lean against Maren in the meantime, trying not to smile when he loops his arm around your hips.

“It looks like they have so much fun playing,” you say after MK finishes their last song. “I’ve always wanted to learn to play the guitar.”

“Why don’t you–wait, let me guess: you’re not allowed?” Maren raises both brows pityingly, and you lightly punch his arm.

“I just haven’t had the free time.”

“I could teach you, if I had a guitar,” he says, then pretends like he’s thinking hard, rubbing his goatee. “Tell you what. You sneak backstage and steal a guitar, and I’ll teach you to play a song.”

For a moment, you find yourself seriously considering it. Then you laugh at yourself. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? A straight-laced person like me, committing theft.”

Maren laughs too. “I think breaking the rules would do you some good.”

“That’s not the kind of person I am.”

“It could be.”

“It’s not, and I’m okay with that.”

“Boooring.” Maren sticks out his tongue.

“That’s okay, too.”

He regards you for a moment. “You seem to have it all figured out.”

“I have to,” you say simply. “I mean, my own mother doesn’t know me. If I don’t know who I am, then no one does.”

“…”

“Anyway, if I get caught and jailed. I’d be kicked out of college, and then I’d lose everything. So no theft for me.”

“Would that really be so bad?” Maren says suddenly.

“Wha–of course. Everything my mom did…”

“Okay, but it doesn’t make sense to me.” Maren looks at you seriously. “What’s the point of all that sacrifice if you aren’t happy?”

You open your mouth, but can’t find a response. The words sink in slowly, slowly, and you try and wrap your mind around them. He…He's right. This punk you've known all of several hours is completely and totally right, and you have no idea what to say.

“Uh,” you say. “Um. Wow. Okay. I mean, yeah. Yeah, you have a point there.”

“Don’t sweat it too much, sweetheart.”

Easier said than done–you’re mulling over what he said for the rest of the set, only breaking out of the trance when it finishes and the crowd starts to move. You and Maren get up and follow the flow of the crowd. Everyone’s headed in the same direction–the side shows are all done, and it’s time for the headliner at the center stage.

The excitement at seeing Preyer live cheers you up a bit. You like several of their songs, and you’ve heard they have a great stage presence. Some of the people around you even have signs, though they don’t look nearly as happy to be there as you would think someone who went to the trouble of making signs would be.

Come to think of it, Maren doesn’t seem all that enthusiastic, either. His grin is entirely absent, like it was when you first met him earlier in the day. After you both find a good spot to stand at the center stage, you decide to bring it up.

“I guess you don’t like Preyer?” you ask.

“They sound alright, but the bandmates themselves are douchebags,” is his reply. “I’m not about to hold up a sign over it, but I’m not going to cheer them on, either.”

The comment strikes you as weird, and you follow Maren’s gaze to get a proper look at one of the signs someone’s holding. Rather than a message of endearment, like you expected, there is bold, bright red letters reading out:

‘PREYER OF CHILDREN!!!’

The other signs read similarly, and you frown. “What's with those signs?”

“You haven't heard?” Maren says.

“No… Did something happen?”

“You could say that.” He narrows his eyes. “The lead singer of Preyer likes to hook up with underage fans.”

“What?!”

“Yep. Several teenagers have come forward about it. Apparently drugs were involved. But there wasn't any hard evidence, so nothing’s been done.” 

“Oh! That’s awful!”

“Sorry you had to find out like this.” He pats your shoulder, resting his giant hand there. “I know it kinda ruins the vibes of the festival.”

“It's not ruined,” you say quickly. “I mean, maybe this particular concert is, but I'd rather have known.”

Maren nods. “That bastard let down every single person who came out here. Everyone who looked up to him.” His grip on your shoulder tightens, his smile tense. “He doesn't deserve to be the headlining show. He doesn't deserve to play at all.”

You shake your head in agreement. When you next glance up at Maren, he has a sly gleam in his eye, his grin stretching like he just thought of something funny. 

“Maren?”

“I'm gonna head to the restroom. Wait for me, sweetheart.”

You both already made pit stops before coming to the center stage. He might just need to go again, but even having only known him a few hours, you get the distinct feeling that he's up to something. Before you can say anything, though, he pushes through the crowd behind you and disappears.

You wait for him. The time passes, and several minutes turn to half an hour with no sign of Maren. Just as you really start to get concerned, you realize that the crowd has grown unusually tense. It's not the excited kind of tension, either, not an eagerness for the show to start. Rather, every few minutes you look around for Maren and see more and more people looking restless, even angry. People are starting to turn to their neighbors and talk. 

Something is definitely going on. You focus, trying to pick out individual conversations.

“... serious! He slept with a minor, and…”

“...gave alcohol to a kid…”

“... can't be true! He's a good guy...”

“...she was my daughter's age…”

The rumors of what the lead singer did are spreading like wildfire, it seems. You've never seen anything like it. You're not sure how it's happening–there are some protesters, but not enough to cause this–until you see a shock of familiar, burnt-orange hair a ways down the crowd.

But, wait. That can't be Maren. He’s 15 feet tall, and those guys over there are only about 7. You squint, confused to see that yes, it's definitely Maren, albeit shorter somehow. He's got his hand cupped to someone's ear, their face changing from neutral to shocked to angry in quick succession. Maren pulls away and works his way to another section of the crowd, and you suddenly know exactly what's going on.

Maren’s making sure not a single concert-goer hasn't heard about what's happened! You're in shock. He didn’t strike you as the type to care that much. That, or he just wants to start trouble. You're reminded again that you really don't know him that well, but you can't bring yourself to look down on what he's doing, either. 

You lose sight of him as he disappears into the crowd again, and don't see him until the band has finished setting up, when he seemingly materializes next to you.

“Those pretzel sticks didn't agree with you, huh?” you joke. “Looks like the crowd does, though.”

“Imagine that,” he grins. 

The lead singer starts speaking into the mic, only for the crowd to erupt into a cacophony of boos. You glance at Maren, who’s joined them in full force, then at the crowd. You can't help it– you join in too.

The lead singer tries to pacify the crowd to no avail. He can't get a single word in. He grows more frustrated with each attempt, until he finally screams, “Fuck you! We are Preyer, and we're going to rock your world! Five, six, seven, eight!”

The band launches into their first song. It's a shame–the music itself is good, but you can't enjoy it the same, especially not with the undercurrent of jeering. You figure the best option at this point would be to just leave, but Maren has other ideas.

“Charge! The! Stage!” he starts chanting, and your eyes get huge. Before you know it, the people around you pick up the chant. It's barely audible over the music, but steadily, more and more people start joining in, and it grows louder, and louder.

Maren notices your alarm and crouches down next to you, shouting so you can hear him over all the noise. “All good, babe?”

“All good? You're starting a riot!”

“Fuck yeah, I am!” He holds his hand out to you. “Are you with me?”

You stare at his hand for a moment, wondering how you got to this point. You knew, you just knew hanging out with him was a bad idea. He was everything you weren't! Everything you were taught not to be, brash and opportunistic and self-concerned. He would only make you worse, you were sure. But…god help you, you wanted to be like him. You wanted just a piece of that energetic confidence, to feel the warmth of the fire that burned within him. 

Even if you would get burned.

You swing your arm and clasp Maren's hand tightly. “Yeah!”

The crowd festers, the chant spreading like a plague, madder and louder until even avid fans are screaming it. The dissent is close to bursting, but it isn't quite enough. It needs something to push it over that edge. You look around. The larger fans toward the back seem eager to go, but people your size at the front, while angered, are still in place. Those at the back can't move forward until the ones up front do, not without trampling the smaller concert-goers.

You suddenly have a really, really bad idea. It's so, so unlike you, but, hell. If you want to be different… Maybe not at home, but here, maybe you can be…

What's the point of all that sacrifice if you aren't happy?

Fine, then. You'll make the change for yourself, if you have to.

Without warning, you start pushing through the crowd. Maren shouts after you, but you don't stop, and his voice is swallowed up by the chorus of rage. Heart pounding, you elbow and shoulder your way past the throng of people, row after screaming row, the stage getting closer and closer, the music so loud it's deafening. You can't hear the crowd anymore, nor your own crazed, panicky breathing. Only adrenaline keeps you going. Up at the front now, you can see a line of several security guards dotting the space before the stage. You break through the last line of people, charge forward, vault over the divider, and leap for the stage. 

Somehow you make it. You scrabble up and on. A security guard grabs you by the foot, but you yank your leg, your shoe coming off in his hand. The band keeps playing, but the lead singer stops. You charge him, and he scrambles back. But you're not going for him, much as he deserves it.

You grab the mic and scream one word with all your lungs:

“RIOT!”

All hell breaks loose.

The crowd roars, surging forward like a busted dam. The band stops playing. The security guards who followed you onstage are swiftly overwhelmed. One grabs you, but is pulled off you by three other people. The stage is quickly overrun, shouting and chaos all around. You get pushed and jostled by the rush of bodies. Equipment is being thrown, instruments trashed, wires torn. You can't see anything past the bodies and can't gain enough footing to move in any direction of your own choosing. When the larger people from the back reach the stage, you start to worry about getting trampled. Your fear is quickly realized as you're knocked hard onto the ground.

Out of nowhere, a large hand grabs you and pulls you high up–Maren, lifting you into one burly arm.

“You alright?” he shouts.

“Yes!” you half shout, half laugh. 

He grins wide. “Cops are coming. Hold on!”

Maren runs away from the stage. You cling to his vest, but his hold on you is secure. The people around you are going every which direction, some still charging for the stage, some making a break for it like you are. Policemen start cutting into the crowd, rushing to protect the band.

“Where are you going?” you ask him once you've gained some distance from the crowd.

“No clue,” he says, glancing over his shoulder.

“Let’s go to the Saltwater Inn! I have a room there.”

“Where's that?”

“Head south.”

After you're a safe distance from the chaos, Maren slows to a stop and sets you down, catching his breath. You're panting, too, mostly from adrenaline.

“That…that was…” you pant.

“That was insane! You're amazing!” Maren yells.

“I don't know why I did that!” you yell back. “I–I hope no one saw my face! Oh my god…”

He laughs, one hand on his hip. “I was wrong about you, sweetheart. That was pretty ballsy.”

Right then, you notice that Maren has a guitar in his other hand. “Where did you get that?”

“I stole it from backstage while everyone was distracted.”

“Maren!”

“What? You did far crazier back there.”

You should feel guilty, and normally you would, but his toothy grin just makes you break out into a matching smile.

“Okay, good point. But let's not stick around.” You tug on his free hand, and Maren lets you lead him toward the inn.“I saw something weird while you were in the ‘bathroom’,” you say while you walk. “I could have sworn I saw another, smaller you in the crowd.” You give him an accusatory look.

“Heh. Yeah, that was me. I can change my size, cuz I'm a porcupinefish type Fish-man.”

“This isn't your normal size?”

“Nah, but I prefer it.”

The two of you chat as you make it back to the nearby Saltwater Inn. You were lucky enough to reserve one of the last rooms available back when you impulsively decided to attend the festival. The bed was made for someone Maren's size, so you overpaid, but it was worth it to be within walking distance from the festival. You ask Maren where he was sleeping that night while you both remove your shoes, only for him to reply that he had been camping out. At that point you weren't surprised by his answer.

“Wellll…” you flopped back onto the oversized bed. “If you wanted to…you could, you know…stay here? With me?”

Maren flops back next to you, making you bounce and giggle.

“Wellll…” he mimics your tone. “If you're gonna twist my arm about it….” He flashes you his signature grin.

Faces inches from each other, looking into his sparkling eyes, you're suddenly and totally overwhelmed with the urge to kiss him. But you haven't kissed anyone in years, and he's so attractive, you don't even know how to begin to process that urge. Cheeks warming, you sit up abruptly and clear your throat.

“You said you could teach me to play if you had a guitar,” you say.

“That I did.” Maren sits up and picks the guitar up off the floor. It's huge, jet black and crimson and covered in stickers. He gently sets it in your arms. “It's a bit big for you, but you should still manage.”

Maren goes over the basics, then spends a few minutes trying to position your fingers. When you still struggle to mimic him, he changes strategies.

“Here,” he says, and picks you up by the hips, making you yelp in surprise. His large arms coming to rest over yours. Like this, it's easier for him to reposition your fingers on the frets. Your face quickly gets hot, but Maren is entirely focused on teaching, his grin more relaxed than it has been all day.

Despite everything you've gone through since meeting him, you don't think he's ever been as attractive as he is when he's guiding you through a song. The intent focus on his face, the warmth of his skin against yours, his low voice praising you as you do well–it all makes your head spin. He goes at a slow, steady pace, teaching you one section at a time, until it’s an hour later and you’re playing your very first song.

You’re brimming with excitement as you finish. It’s your first time playing music, and you think you’re in love. You look up at Maren with a sense of awe and wonder. You created music, almost by yourself. He seems genuinely thrilled to have shown you, too.

“Well done, sweetheart,” he says. “Did you like it?”

“Maren, I loved it! Thank you! Thank you so much!”

“It’s the least I could do,” he says.

You set the guitar aside and lean back against him, and he wraps his arms around your waist and holds you.

“I’m glad I met you, Maren,” you say.

“Me too.”

You crane your neck back to look up at him. He grins, but it’s not as intense as usual. It’s soft, in a weird way. That feeling of wanting to kiss him washes over you, and Maren acts like he can sense it, because he cups your cheek.

“Whatcha thinking about, sweetheart?” he almost whispers.

“I–I. Um, I.” You giggle nervously. “I think you’re really hot, and I want to kiss you.”

“Yeah?” He leans closer. “What’s stopping you?”

“Nerves, mostly.”

He chuckles. “Alright, then. How ‘bout I kiss you first?”

You nod, heart racing so fast you think it’ll bruise your sternum. Maren’s thumb strokes your cheek as he takes in your flustered expression. Then he leans in. You shut your eyes, and a moment later, feel the smoothness of his lips pressing to yours.

Tingling, burning warmth courses through your veins at the contact, a taste of his fire. You open your eyes just as he pulls away, his face flushed like yours.

“Fuck,” you say, surprising him into laughter.

“Good?”

“Yeah. Really good.”

“Again?”

“Please, yes–”

He leans in again, and you shift in his lap to straddle one of his giant thighs, lips slightly parted as he kisses you a second time. He guides your arms to wrap around his neck, and you stretch up to meet him so he doesn’t have to bend so much. The second kiss is longer, lighting up your entire body with its passion. He’s not as intense as you expected, almost hesitant in his kissing. You’re not sure you’re doing well, either, but he stays put, so you gain confidence, parting your lips slightly and humming in approval. His tongue probes out to trace your lips, and you gasp before sliding out your own to meet his.

At the touch, you feel the blood rush between your legs. It’s a bit ticklish and wet and so warm, and as Maren closes his mouth to suck on your lower lip, a soft moan trickles out of you before you can help it.

You want him badly, you want all of him. You can feel the desire pouring out of him, too, that inner flame blazing bright and consuming you. He seemed confident throughout the day, but you can’t help but sense that you’re both seeking a kind of solace in the other. It’s been so long since you’ve been close to someone, especially like this, and he’s working up a need in you that’s impossible to ignore.

Maren moves his hands down your back and to your ass, squeezing before tilting you back slightly so he can deepen the kiss, tongue filling your mouth. His kisses turn messy and you do your best to keep up with his heated, dizzying pace, a second moan breaking free when he moves to kiss your neck. You tilt your head to give him easier access, his head filling the space between as he starts to suck on the skin, making a jolt rush straight to your center. You can barely feel the scrape of his sharp teeth, but he doesn’t bite. Maybe it would be dangerous, but you can’t help but feel a bit disappointed.

“Ah…Maren,” you breathe, “Bite me, I–I want you to bite me.”

“Huh? Wait,” he pulls away, giving you both a chance to get your bearings. “I wasn’t kidding when I said my teeth are sharp.”

“Just a nibble?” you plead. “Small and shallow?”

“What are you, a masochist?” Your face burns, but he’s grinning. “Hah! Alright, but hold still, sweetheart. I’ll try not to make you bleed.”

“What are you, afraid of a little blood?” you challenge.

Instantly one of his hands is in your hair, gripping tight by the roots to keep your head still. You moan at the roughness, feeling his grin against the base of your neck before the razor points of his teeth rake your skin. You squirm, and his other hand comes up to grab your shoulder to keep you from moving. The anticipation rockets your arousal from a spark to a burning need, but thankfully he doesn’t make you wait.

There’s a slight, sweet blossoming of pain as his teeth barely sink in. You gasp, legs squeezing his thigh, your breath hitching again when his tongue follows, soothing the sting. He licks back and forth along the spot before slicking his way back to your neck to suck another bruise there, and you can’t help it, you start grinding on his thigh to grant yourself some much-needed relief.

“Fuck,” Maren curses in surprise, pulling back to watch you. The sight must make him impatient, though, because a moment later he grabs your wrist and puts your hand on his crotch. There’s a very large, very hard bulge there, far bigger than your hand. You don’t hesitate to stroke him–you have to work your whole arm to do so–and are rewarded with the beautiful sound of his first moan. His hips cant forward, pushing into your hand, and he’s panting slightly.

“Lie back,” you instruct, and Maren complies, lying back onto the bed. You reposition yourself between his legs so you can grind your crotch directly onto his bulge. He throws his head back and gasps at the same time as you do, his hands coming to grab your hips and pull you onto him harder.

Before you risked buying a small, discreet vibrator, you used to get off by grinding on stacked pillows. The sensation of grinding on Maren, however, was so much better that you found yourself whimpering. His bulge was large enough to provide a firm pressure against your entire vulva, and his breathy, restrained moans only fueled your need. After all the teasing of his kisses, you were already worked up, and it didn’t take you much longer before you were rapidly climbing up and over the peak, a soft cry as you cum.

The orgasm wracks your body, and you hump him desperately throughout it until it finally subsides. You go still, leaning against his belly and catching your breath.

“Why’d you stop?” Maren raises his head to look at you. His brows rise in realization. “Did you cum?”

“Y-Yeah,” you pant. His toothy smirk makes you feel tingly all over again, and you crawl up his body to kiss him some more.

You make out feverishly, all earlier hesitation gone, replaced by hot, needy kisses and nibbles. You pull away just long enough to take off your shirt, throwing it to the side before your bra follows. Maren’s hands are on your breasts in an instant, kneading the soft flesh and making you moan into his mouth. It turns to a sharp cry as his thumbs find your nipples.

“Ya like that?” he husks, and you nod quickly, going to kiss him again and whimpering against his lips when he continues to rub the sensitive nubs. He grants you a brief reprieve as his hands slide down your sides and hips, fingers hooking under the band of your pants, and you break away to remove them and your underwear.

Maren slides a finger between your lower lips, eyes widening at the amount of slick he feels. “Shit, you are so wet.”

“Maren, please–”

You don’t need to say anything more. He slides his middle finger through your folds, up and down, up and down, building up an anticipation that shatters as his finger sinks inside you.

“Ahh!” you cry out as he pushes it deeper, grabbing his forearm to stabilize yourself. His hands are so large, fingers so thick that he can reach all the way to your cervix without stretching. You clench down on the thick digit, dizzy at how easily just one fills you up.

Maren starts to pump his finger slowly, and pleasure shoots through you. The muscles of his forearm flex beneath your hand as he soon fingers you into a mess, your legs shaking as you grind into his palm. He’s biting his lip at the sight of you coming undone on just his hand.

“Kuh, keep going!” you pant desperately. “More, more!”

“More?” he pushes his ring finger at your entrance. “Like this?”

“Yes! Nnnh–!” Your back arches as he pushes the second finger inside you along with the first, the stretch persistent and pleasant and filling. The slick, wet squelch rings in your ears. You rub your clit desperately with one finger, eyes rolling back.

“Shit,” he curses. “Look at you, so needy. Who woulda thought under all that, you’re just a needy little slut?”

Maren slides his other hand up your side to flick at your nipple with his thumb, and his fingers curl abruptly inside you, making you cry out in surprise and delight, the mounting pleasure spiking in intensity. He rubs insistently at your g-spot, and this time, when your orgasm slams into you, he can feel it fluttering around his fingers.

“Ah, ahh–!” You curl forward, almost weak from the intensity, shivers going through you along with the throbbing of your clit. “Coming!”

“I know, sweetheart. I can feel you,” he says, kissing your forehead. “It’s cute how easily you cum.”

“I want my third one to be from you fucking me,” you state intently. His eyes go wide a moment before he laughs.

“Can’t get enough of me, huh?”

“That’s right. I want you to make me regret ever having run into you. I want to think about tonight for the rest of my life.”

Maren’s blush deepens, his tongue poking out to wet his lips before he grins. “You keep catching me off guard, you know that? Alright, then. You think you can take it, then I’ll give it to you.”

He pulls his fingers out of you and uses the slicked digits to tease your nipples. The stimulation is different with the new lubrication, but in a good way, a sigh falling from your lips as he works heat into your body anew. You take his hand, pulling it up to your mouth, and lick the sticky fluid from his fingers. His breath hitches as you surprise him once more, a tender moan coming out when you start to suck on his fingers, one at a time.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” Maren groans, his other hand reaching down to undo his zipper. He hastily shoves his boxers down to pull out his cock, jerking himself to the sight and sensation of your little mouth on his fingers. “How–how do you want to do this? I don’t have a condom.”

You take his fingers out of your mouth with a pop. “I have the implant.” You glance over your shoulder and flush hot all over at the sight of his massive cock in his hand. Naturally he’s proportional, and there’s no way it’s going to fit as he is. “Um…you’re huge, Maren. I don’t think it’s gonna–wait, you can make yourself smaller, right?”

He looks conflicted at the idea. “How small are we talking?”

You weren’t sure what his aversion to being smaller was, but you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable. Thinking for a moment, you offer, “what if I mount you, and you just shrink until it goes in? If you get to a point where you don’t want to keep going, you can stop and we’ll do something else.”

“Yeah, that sounds good.” Maren nods, seemingly put at ease.

You tug at his vest. He chuckles and removes it, then his pants and boxers. As soon as he’s naked, you throw your arms around his neck and start making out with him again.

“You know,” you say between kisses, “perk of you–being smaller–can kiss and fuck me–at the same time.”

He hums in response, not outright rejecting the idea. At his current height, riding him meant he couldn’t kiss you without breaking his spine. But at his current height, nothing was going to happen anyway.

Maren’s heated kisses work you back into a frenzy of need until you’re breaking away, licking the large scar on his left pectoral before kissing down his chest and belly, until your ass is pressed against his cock. It’s so big it touches your lower back, leaving a smear of precum on your skin.

“Okay,” you say, taking hold of his cock and positioning yourself over it. Maren sucks in a breath at the touch, and you follow suit as you press the blunt head against your vulva. It’s like trying to fuck an eggplant, it’s just not gonna happen, though the wet, smooth skin does feel good against you. “I’m ready.”

Maren nods and lets out a sigh. You feel a slight shift, not immediately realizing he’s changing, until a second later when you realize his head no longer reaches the pillow. He shrinks slowly, losing inch by inch, and you wiggle your hips a little to feel if he’s small enough yet.

You both gasp as he starts to penetrate you, but he can’t get further than the head.

“A-Almost,” you stammer. Another inch of height off, and you’re able to sink down onto him slowly. “There! Yes!”

Overall, Maren’s only lost about four feet of height. At 11 feet tall he’s still huge in comparison to you, and you’re a bit surprised at yourself. 

He must be, too, because he asks, “It’s not too much?” 

“I think–I can handle–nnng…” You lose focus as he bottoms out. His cock is still huge, bigger than anyone you’ve been with or any toy you’ve used, and the stretch hurts just a little bit. But he seemed so reluctant to get smaller, you don’t want to push him any more than he has. You just need some time to adjust, and you tell him as much.

“Ya sure, babe?”

“Yeah…It’s, it’s kind of good like this…” you hang your head down, looking at the point where your bodies are connected. There’s still several inches of him left out. He’s so thick that the broad head of him pushes firmly against your g-spot and doesn’t let you forget it’s there. You lift your hips experimentally, and the movement makes you both gasp again, a jolt of intertwined heat.

“Fuck, how are you taking so much? Little thing like you,” Maren’s hands rest on your hips as you start moving up and down. “You like big dick, huh, sweetheart?”

“Y-Yes, yes,” you pant as you start riding him in earnest. “Oh–oh, fuck, Maren…”

“You’re more wild than you let on. I think you’ve been waiting for something like this, huh? Waiting for someone like me.” His breath is heavy, his husky words encouraging. “So wound up when we first met–turns out all you needed was to let loose, hmm?”

He’s not even dirty talking, not really, but the way he speaks to you just makes you wetter. You’re able to keep going thanks to it, keeping the friction from getting uncomfortable. Panting, you roll your hips as you ride him, grinding him where you need him most.

“Tell me how it feels, tell me how that big dick feels,” Maren says.

“Good! Feels so good!”

He rewards you with a sudden, hard spank, and you gasp.

“You got tighter! You are a masochist.”

He smacks you again, making you cry out. “Maren!”

“That’s right, sweetheart, say my name!”

Smack!

“Maren-!”

Your pace slows as you tire–the festival has you drained–but Maren doesn’t hesitate to grab your hips, bracing his legs against the bed to thrust up into you. His tongue pokes out slightly as he pants, bouncing you on his cock, and you’re able to rub your clit now that he’s picked up the slack.

He moans, grip tightening on your hips as his pace picks up. Each thrust shoves you closer and closer to the edge until you crash over it with a strangled cry of his name, orgasm ripping through you.

“I got ya,” he pants, his hurried thrusts work you through your orgasm, head spinning at the feel of your walls spasming around him. “Gonna…ah, shit, I’m gonna cum…!”

He stops abruptly, pulling you down onto him so hard it hurts a little, head thrown back and moaning from deep in his gut. His cock throbs as he empties inside you, and then there’s no sound left but the both of you catching your breath.

He softens inside you, but is still so large he doesn’t fall out until you get off of him. You collapse next to his side, resting your head against him, a thick haze of relief and sated pleasure fogging up your brain.

Maren’s arm slings over your body, pulling you closer. You look up at him. He smiles when your gazes meet, that charming, devilish grin that got you here.

“You good, sweetheart?”

“Never been better.” You match his grin. “Next round, can you fuck me against the wall?”

“On the wall, on the table, on the floor…” he trails off, and you both giggle. “What about tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow?”

“One more day of the festival left.”

You cuddle into his side. “Will you spend it with me?”

Maren’s gaze softens. “Of course, sweetheart.”

It turns out that Maren has far more stamina than you do. He puts you through your paces, and you’re exhausted and sore the next day, leading him to practically carry you around. The final show is incredible, and when the day comes to a close and it’s time to part ways, you tear up a little. Maren’s as cheerful as ever, but you can see past the front he puts out just a little, now–you know he’s bummed, too.

“Keep your chin up, sweetheart. Maybe someday we’ll meet again.” He says, wiping at the corners of your eyes. “Promise me you won’t miss a guy like me too much?”

You smile and nod, even as you lie through your teeth. “I promise.”

[oreolemur]

Second Base- Gojo Fanfic

Sitting down at an Italian restaurant, you waited patiently for your blind date to show up. “I hope she picked a decent guy this time”, you sigh. Scrolling through your phone for a few minutes, the waiter comes over. “Would you like something to drink, mam?”, the guy asked. Ordering a glass of water, you scarfed down a breadstick or two as you took in the building’s surroundings. “At least she picked a good spot”.

15 minutes go by, and you begin to grow impatient. “Is this supposed to be a set up? Am I getting played right now?”. In the middle of texting your friend, you suddenly see a man standing beside you from your peripheral vision. Clearing his throat, “Sorry I’m late”, he smiled. Averting your eyes towards the man, you were jaw-dropped by how beautiful he was. “Woah…”, you whisper. Wearing a light blue button up, and black tuxedo pants, you couldn’t help but stare at his shiny blue eyes, and gorgeous white locks. 

Taking a seat in front of you, “By the end of this date, I'll have you screaming my name", the man grinned. "Just you wait". Surprised by his comment, you scoffed. “Nope”. “Oh my, someone's feisty! What's your name?”, he asked. “Y/N, and you?”. “Gojo Satoru”. Giving you a cocky grin, you furrowed your eyebrows. “What exactly did you mean by, “I’ll have you screaming my name”,?”, you questioned. “You'll see soon enough, won't you?”, Gojo replied.  “I don’t know. Will I? Maybe I’ll just ditch you right now and call it a night”. “You wouldn't dare", Satoru scoffed. A smirk spread across his face. "Besides, I've got so many surprises planned for tonight”.  Looking at him speechless, you grabbed one of the menus off the table, ready to order. 

"You do realize that there's another meaning to 'screaming someone's name'?" Satoru chuckled, leaning in and whispering in a suggestive manner. "A much more fun sense”. Rolling your eyes, you shove a bread stick into his mouth, "In your dreams". "Oh, I think you'll be changing your tune by the end of tonight" Satoru teased, his eyes roaming across the table to study you. "You're so cute when you're mad", he muttered just loud enough to make you question if it was intentional.

Ignoring him, you signal the waiter over. "I'll have the chicken Florentine". "Excellent choice", Satoru beamed with pride. "I'll have the spaghetti", he chimed in, not looking at the menu even once. Asking what the two of you would like to drink, Gojo smiled. "I'll have a glass of Merlot", he requested the waiter. Turning back to you, he smirked. The corners of his lips curled up as he watched you. "How about you?". “Red wine”, you replied. The waiter nodded and took the order. 

Gojo waited until he was out of sight before leaning over the table to whisper to you. "You know, you've got really nice skin. I wonder how soft it is...". Sticking out your hand, you let Satoru feel how soft you were. The man took your hand and ran his fingers over your skin in a teasing manner."This is incredibly soft", He whispered. "I'm sure some other parts of your body are soft too...".  “I’m sure there is”, you teased back. "Well, I intend to find out", he smirked. 

The waiter eventually returned with the drinks, setting them down on the table and leaving. As he was walking away, Gojo stood up, stretching. "Would you like to come to my place after this?", He asked, a sly look on his face. "The night isn't over yet". "After we eat...maybe", you reply back. "I can live with that", Satoru teased. As he sat back down, the waiter arrived with the meals. He waited until the guy left to speak again. "This is going to be an unforgettable night." His voice was low and husky, his eyes wandering all over your body. "Especially when we get back to my place”. Making a toast to each other, the two of you sat at the restaurant for another hour, exchanging jokes.

"Well, that was good", you exclaim, standing up. "Where to now? Your place seems nice ",  you wink at him. Satoru chuckled at your comment, standing up and offering his hand. "Let's get going then. I hope you didn't forget what you promised me”. He started to walk out of the restaurant. "I can tell that you're eager to see my private domain”. "Eager? No. I'm just ready to lay back and be treated with care"."Oh, I could do much more than just treat you with care. I can be everything you want me to be at this moment. You can forget about the real world; I want to be the center of your universe”. He turned to face you, a grin plastered on his face."So come with me. Let's go see what it's like in my world”.

Hopping into the man's car, you noticed him staring at you from the corner of your eye. "Yes?". "Just admiring the view," Satoru chuckled. He continued the drive, glancing over at you every once in a while to study your expression. The atmosphere was filled with an intense tension and Gojo seemed to be enjoying making you squirm with anticipation. After a couple minutes of this, he eventually parked the car, getting up and heading around to your side to open your door. "After you", he smiled. “Thanks”

The two of you made your way into his house, leading you upstairs. The moment you were there, it was abundantly clear what his intentions were. He gently pushed you down onto the bed, looming over you like a predator. Staring into your soul, you felt yourself become hypnotized by his shiny blue eyes. “Hurry up and kiss me”, you blush. “Impatient much?”, Satoru chuckled. Gently grabbing your face, he smashed his lips onto yours. “His lips taste so sweet”, you thought. 

While making out, the man began to unbutton his shirt. “Need help getting undressed?”, you ask, pulling away from the kiss. “Sure, why not?”. Getting off , he stood in front of you as you were sitting on the edge of his bed. “You look even more beautiful down there”, Gojo commented. Undoing his pants, you pulled them down along with his boxers. “Damn”. Staring at his pretty veiny cock, your mouth watered. “Is there a problem?”, he wondered. Shaking your head, “N-no”. Hearing you stutter a little, Satoru admired it. 

Holding his shaft, you stroked it a little. “It feels so big in my hands”. Looking up at him, you saw him blushing as he kept eye contact with you. “Why is he so pretty?”. Averting your attention on his dick, you opened your mouth, sucking his tip. “Mmph”, the man moaned. Listening to his enjoyment, you tightened your mouth around him as you slowly went down his dick. “Fuck”, he seethed. Bobbing your head, you felt him run his fingers through your scalp. Gripping your hair, he began to gently thrust into your mouth.  

Feeling his tip hit the back of your throat, you found it hard to breathe. You tapped his thighs, signaling him to stop. “What’s wrong?”, he asked. Having a line of spit come out of your mouth, you licked your lips. “You’re too big to go all in”, you complained. Rubbing your head, the man smiled. “Well that’s too bad”, he said. “But, I’m not finished yet”. Shoving you back down his cock, you held onto his waist for support. He fucked your throat, using it as his little toy, while he worked to get his orgasm. “I can’t believe he just did that”, you said to yourself. “It’s like he doesn’t even care that I can’t breathe…that’s….so…hot”. 

A few minutes later, Gojo’s thrusts became sloppy and slow as his moaning became more high pitched. Without warning he came into your mouth, filling it with his sweet warm liquid. “Oh..”, he paused. “You’re a swallower”. Making sure to get every last drop, you wiped your index finger around your mouth, collecting any cum that leaked out. “I am full of surprises after all”, you smirked, giving his cock a small peck.

Gojo stared at you with lust, he felt as if he’d found a suitable partner to fulfill his needs. “Take off your clothes and lay down”, he ordered. Doing what he wants, the man watched you get naked. “You have a beautiful body”. Spreading your legs open, he got down on his knees. “Everything is so natural, it’s exciting”. He squeezed your inner thighs, teasing his way up to your cunt. Being sensitive in that spot, you squirmed around a little. “I haven’t even gotten to the best part yet, and you’re already starting to act up”. 

Placing his hand on your pussy, he spread your lips apart, seeing your fluids drip down onto his comforter. He slowly licked your wet folds, making his way to your clit. Once there, he drew circles with his tongue, sucking your sensitive bud in and out as he repeated the pattern. “Satoru..”, you moaned, pulling his hair. Giving in to your adorable whimpers, he started to  finger you. “You’re tight, darling”, he smiled. Having him pleasure you two different ways at the same time, drove you crazy. 

You pulled his hair tighter, trying to move his head away from your clit. “I’m cumming. I’m-”. Letting out the biggest moan, tears formed in your eyes, realizing he wasn’t stopping. “I should’ve warned you that I’m into overstimulation”. Trying to move away from him, he dug his nails into your plumped thighs. “I-I can’t take it”. Reaching for a pillow, you screamed into it as you felt another orgasm come. “Mmmmm!!”. Feeling satisfied, Gojo moved away from your cunt. 

Grabbing a napkin, he wiped his face from the fluid you squirted onto him. “Now”, he smiled, walking over to you. “Let’s finish this”. Taking hold of your waist, he flipped you over on your stomach, forcing you to arch your back. He slapped your ass. “Ouch”, you whined. Laughing at you, he rubbed his cock on your pussy. “Don’t tease me like that”, you whined. 

Shushing you, he slowly thrusted his tip into you, stretching your walls little by little. “Sex shouldn’t be rushed”. Burying your face into the mattress, you tried your best to take him. He was gentle with you, knowing how tight you were. “Are you used to it yet?”, he asked. “N-no”, you whimpered. Feeling devious, he grinned. “Let’s try this”. Shoving his cock in all the way, you gasped. “Gojo!”. “There it is”, he laughed. 

Fucking you mercilessly, he slammed his hips into you hard, hitting your cervix. “Nngh”. You held onto his comforter, handling him with what little tolerance you had left. “Sa…to…ru”, you called out. “Yes?”, he grinned. Not being able to speak anymore, you tried to reach behind in an attempt to stop him. “Aht aht”, he smacked your hand away. “I’m not done”.  Changing positions, he pushed your body down, turning you on your back.

Laying there weak and vulnerable, Gojo scooted you up the bed. “Are you done now? I’m too sensitive to continue”. Crawling on top of you, he leaned into your face. “Oh really?”. Going for your neck, he kissed it gently, before marking you up with his teeth. “Ah”, you winced, placing your hand around his throat. “Squeeze it”, he blushed. “You’re into choking?”. Nodding his head, “Yes”. Putting you on top of him, he lifted you up a little to slide his cock inside you. “How did you do that so fast?!”. Grabbing your hand, he placed it on his neck. “Less talk, more fuck”. 

Proceeding to choke him, he let out a small whimper. “My god…is there anything he’s not good at!”. Grinding your hips, you went slow. “Ow, he's deeper than ever”. Trying to go a little faster, you started to feel more pleasure than pain. “Is this okay?”, you asked. “Nope”. He gripped your waist, thrusting upwards, making you scream again. “Fuck!”, you squealed.

With him taking control over you, you didn’t notice how hard you were choking him. “Almost…there”, Gojo groaned. He flipped you over again, this time being on top. “That was good, but not good enough to make me cum”, he said, gasping for air. Satoru put both of your legs over his shoulder, fucking you even harder than before. “Shit!”. His headboard banged against the wall, causing the bed to squeak.  Finishing up, you both climaxed together, moaning each other's ears. “My, my, my”, Gojo huffed. “I should buy a ring”. 

[catharsisxf]

I'm an embarrassingly slow writer so I won't be posting a fic per day but I'll hopefully make it through a few of these prompts from @msrafterdark!

Dashing through the Snow

Rating: G

Prompt: Best Christmas ever

AO3 link

____________________

S,

Meet me tomorrow at the base of the Masonic Temple. 9am. Dress warmly.

-M

Scully had gotten back to the office rather late on Friday after an autopsy had gone longer than expected. Still she was surprised that Mulder had seemingly already left for the weekend. As intrigued as she was by the note he'd left on her desk she sincerely hoped she hadn't gotten up early on the weekend for a case. It was only a couple days before Christmas and she really really needed to finish her shopping.

The Masonic Temple in Alexandria was situated at the top of large hill that gave impressive views of the surrounding area. Last night was the first decent snowfall of the season and as she trudged up one of the pathways leading to the building she noticed numerous families sledding down the terraced hillsides.

She spotted him immediately as she made it to the top of the hill. Wearing the bright green alien knit hat she got him as a gag gift last year he was practically bouncing up and down scanning the crowds for her. His toothy grin as he spotted her made her insides flip in a way that she wasn't quite ready to acknowlege.

"Right on time!" he beamed. He gestured to the large wooden toboggan next to him and waggled his eyebrows playfully.

"Mulder," she said as if he'd just presented her a slideshow about Bigfoot being personally responsible for crop circles. "You can't be serious."

"C'mon Scully, this is one of the best sledding locations in the area. We can't pass this up!"

She smirked at his giddiness and eventually nodded in acceptance. Mulder positioned the toboggan at the edge of the slope and motioned for her to have a seat. She had assumed they'd be taking turns but was surprised when he situated himself snugly behind her. Reaching around her to grab the strap he nudged them forward slightly. "Ready?" She nodded. Unsure of what to do with her hands she grasped his upper arms tightly.

As they took off down the hillside they quickly gained speed, the other riders becoming a blur in her peripheral vision. She felt a couple moments of weightlessness as they careened over the terraced slope. Coming to a stop at the bottom she felt breathless both from adrenaline and the feeling of Mulder's warm body wrapped around her.

"Whoo!" he exclaimed. "Let's go again! His enthusiasm was contagious and she found herself racing him back up to the top.

After a few more runs they headed back to their cars in comfortable silence, Mulder dragging the toboggan behind him. "The last Christmas I spent with Samantha we went sledding," he said suddenly. Scully glanced at him in surprise but he kept his eyes trained on the ground. "There were a couple places around the island where you could sled and she begged me for days to take her. It snowed Christmas morning so we spent all day sledding. She was so happy." He slowed and finally looked at her. "It was the best Christmas ever," he said quietly, a wistful smile on his face.

Her heart broke for the boy who whose world was shattered so long ago. Not for the first time she wondered how different he would be now if his childhood memories weren't forever tinged with sadness around the edges.

Stopping in front of her car she raised on her tiptoes and gave him a lingering kiss on his wind-reddened cheek. Pulling back she saw his eyes open slowly and a dreamy look on his face. "Merry Christmas, Mulder."

"Best Christmas ever," he whispered.

[misty720]

So, a couple of things first. This will be a short story, one chapter a day, that will incorporate the prompt. This is also a short based on my original story and its second part (still in progress) on AO3. If anything looks repetitive, that's why. I included enough detail from the original so it could stand alone. If Papyrus seems different than most picture him, that's also why. He's been on the Surface for quite some time and has been through a lot of shit and seen a lot of shit. Anyway, happy shipping and I hope you like it.

Hopes and Dreams - Ch 1:

It was five in the morning when Papyrus's alarm shouted at him to rise for the day.  He sat straight up and smacked the button to turn it off.  He shook his skull and rubbed his face as if he could rub the fog from his mind.  "Nnggg... mornin', love..." Chara groaned stirring from the abrasive noise.

"MORNIN'..." Papyrus grunted back and kissed his wife's temple before rolling out of bed to start his day.  "WHERE'S YOUR MINION?" he asked looking under the sheet to see the spot between them empty.

"She said she was feeling better and went downstairs to watch cartoons with her brother," Chara answered rolling over to sit up and go check on their kids.

"I'LL NEVER UNDERSTAND HOW SUCH A SMALL BEING CAN HOLD SO MUCH VILE FLUID."

"I don't wanna hear it, Pap.  You're not the one who held her hair out of her face all night and cleaned up the mess when she missed the toilet.  You're not the one who had to bathe her or scrub the vomit out of clothes and sheets.  You're not the one she threw up on this time either.  Shut it."

"I MAY NOT HAVE DEALT WITH MOST OF IT BUT I WAS UP ALL NIGHT CHECKING HER FEVER AND MAKING SURE SHE STAYED COOL WHILE YOU BOTH SLEPT, DEAR.  AND,  I STILL HAVE TO OPEN THE RESTAURANT WHILE YOU GET TO GO BACK TO SLEEP.  SO, YOU SHUT IT."

"Papyrus, I will change the locks while you're away."

"HA!  IT'S CUTE YOU THINK A LOCKED DOOR COULD STOP ME.  I LOVE YOU, MY DEAR."  He kissed her briefly before heading downstairs to fix the kids breakfast.

"Oooh, that man!  I love you too, you big bonehead..." Chara sighed dragging herself out of the bed to change the sheets again and dress.

Downstairs, their oldest child of fourteen sat with his baby sister in his lap watching television with his backpack ready for school.  "GOOD MORNING, STINKER," Papyrus ruffled his styled copper hair in passing to the open kitchen right of the staircase. 

"Mornin', Dad..." Serif answered in a similar grunt that sounded just like his father's.

"GOOD MORNING, PUMPKIN.  HOW ARE YOU FEELING?" he asked his youngest of age five, Sylfae, feeling her forehead.

"I'm fine, Papa.  Serif made my tummy much better with jello and soda," she answered spritely without removing her eyes from the flashing screen.

"UH HUH... BROTHER MADE YOU FEEL BETTER...  RIGHT..."

"Jello and ginger-ale is the breakfast of recovering champions, Dad," Serif replied.  "And, I put medicine in the jello..." he whispered.

"I SEE.  YOU'RE JUST LIKE YOUR MOTHER, MY BOY.  WHERE IS TROUBLE?  KABEL SHOULD BE OUT HERE TOO."

"I woke him up but he hasn't left his room yet."

"I'll check on him, Pap.  You get food on the table and go or you'll be late opening for the breakfast menu," Chara urged him exiting their room and entering the one next door.  Papyrus smiled at her, his wife of fourteen years and partner for sixteen, the mother of their three children, and his only love.  She stood by him through so much including him pursuing his own business which hadn't been easy on either of them at first.  But, with some compromise and patience, they had a decent routine.  It had been an adjustment when their siblings and neices moved out into their own place also.  Chara had grown used to chasing two extra children running amuck, but she was grateful for the solitude of her own home.  This life was more than she could have hoped for and more than she dared to dream when she was still dead in the coffin.  Papyrus was a wonderful husband and a better father, but the majority of responsibility that would interfere with his sleep and work was put on her in exchange for being home all day along with taking care of the house and errands.  Not that Papyrus was lazy by no means, but he was serious about his restaurant and ran with his team instead of holding up in the office and barking orders which meant anywhere between twelve to sixteen hour days mostly on his tarsals sweating in the kitchen and checking on the floor in addition to cooking when he came home some nights.  He loved his woman with all his soul, but one thing everyone knew about Chara was her ability to set the kitchen on fire if it required more than tossing it on a pan and heating it up or boiling water and watching it.  Though it was exhausting and hard work, that had been his new dream all those years ago when he came to the Surface.  His hope now was to maintain enough steady income to provide a life for his family.  And, although her culinary skills were lacking, she made up for it by running the budget, taking care of sick little ones in the middle of the night, any running that needed done, and keeping up with all the things on a schedule such as appointments, events, and holidays.  Still, Papyrus couldn't help staying up with worry for his kids when they were sick which led to a poor night's rest if any.  He also wondered why she stayed by him all this time with as much time away spent on his business.  If you asked Chara, it was because he truly loved her, forgave her twice for everything she had done in a past life that had been erased, and he was genuinely good to her and the kids.  "Bad news, love!" Chara called from their middle child's doorway that had once been Sans and Frisk's room.  "Kabel is sick now!"

"WHAT'S WRONG?" he called back with mild concern.

"It's the same symptoms as Sylf - fever, chills, upset stomach, and vomiting.  He's so weak he didn't even get out of bed.  He threw up in his trash can and went back to sleep after Serif woke him.  I swear...  Are you going to be sick too?" she jokingly asked her oldest.

"I hope not, but it's inevitable.  You too, Mom.  You'll catch it just the same," Serif answered honestly.

"Is that a true prediction or are you just using logic?"

"I could use my powers to see for sure except logic works just fine in this situation."

"Well, I already started prepping to make sure your father has a big mess to clean anyway.  I've been eating lots of chocolate, eggs, spicy pickles, and barbecue.  Sounds gross until I say it's a barbecue burger with fried egg and spicy pickles with a chocolate shake."

"GREAT...  YOU NEED TO STOP EATING AT GRILLBY'S EVERYTIME YOU GO OUT WITH YOUR SISTER.  LET ME KNOW IF YOU START FEELING OFF AND I'LL LET MY FLOOR MANAGER HANDLE THINGS TODAY.  BREAKFAST IS READY, BUT I'LL HAVE TO EAT MINE ON THE GO OR I'LL REALLY BE LATE.  LOVE YOU, DEAR."  He kissed her goodbye, hugged the two on the couch, and peaked in on his sick one to check his fever before rushing out the door.  He felt bad leaving her, but staying home wouldn't pay the bills.

@papara-week forgot the tag. Omg.

[thelazyfoxx]

Being With Him, His Entire Life

Notes:

rushed and probably has spelling and grammar errors.

based on a playlist on Youtube (finding true love with wanderer - https://youtu.be/DS_OZMXf-HU)

"From a nobody, to a harbinger then to a sage of the Akedemiya... What a interesting transition of roles..."

Being immoral is a lonely thing... Being different from everyone is a lonely thing...

I stand by her Excellently, staring at his frail body from afar. "Take care of him.", she tells me. I turn to look at her, her eyes soften at him... her puppet... her son. She began to walk away while I stood at the same spot, staring at where she once stood.

'Take care of him... Huh.' I began to approach the domain, awaiting his awakening. I sat beside him, hours later he woke up. The puppet sat up, then looked towards me, he stared at me for a few seconds before speaking, "She abandoned me... Didn't she? You're just here to finish me off...". Why did his words feel like they stabbed me? Like they were a resentment towards me...

"I'm not here to finish you off..." I paused, she never really said anything about leaving the puppet here. She may as well abandoned him... So why did she  order me to take care of him? "I'm here just to accompany you, nothing more...", he stared at me suspiciously yet he did not push the matter.

We stayed in the domain for who knows how long, days? Weeks? Maybe even months, but we stayed in the domain together, with decent conversations going back and forth between us during that time. A swordsmith then found us within the domain, he took us out of the domain and to a place where many other swordsmith are. I did not pay attention to the details of everything, I merely stayed by his side. Being around humans feel so uncomfortable... I glance at him, his indigo eyes light up as he began to have a conversation with a brown haired man that had a red streak of hair and a few other swordsmiths.

How lonely this feels... I turn to walk away before I feel some grab my sleeve. I turn to see the gentle gaze of the puppet, "Where are you going?" He asked me, my eyes gently widen. Before I could respond the brown haired man spoke, "Actually I never really gotten your names."

"I'm Kunikuzushi, and this is my partner y/n." The puppet responded. That was the first time I ever learned his name. Kunikuzushi... What a beautiful name. I stood awkwardly among the group, Kunikuzushi nudged me a bit, "Go on, say something. You were very talkative the past time we've been together" he said smiling at me. I blushed a bit before saying, "It's a pleasure to meet you all, I hope you can take care of us...", they all began to laugh and smile, I guess being around humans isn't that uncomfortable.

Yet all happiness must end if there's a villain. I sat in a field admiring the sight before me, I then hear foot steps behind me. I turn to see Kunikuzushi, covered in dirt, bruises and blood. I quickly stood and ran over to him, taking out a handkerchief and wiping his cheek, before I could asked what happened the puppet placed his head on my chest while wrapping his arms around me. "Niwa..." He said his voice breaking, "he abandoned me... Just like her..." He cried on my chest while I stood speechless, 'he left him... How could he...' I wrapped my arms around him, not saying anything and just stroking his hair. He cried to his hearts content before all that was left was the silent hiccups from him. "Kunikuzushi let's-" he cuts me off "Let me just listen to your heart... Please for a bit longer" he begged. I simply nodded and allowed him to rest his head on my chest.

We left that horrible place, we went back to the domain we once stayed to find a child.  A frail child, someone just like Kunikuzushi. Kunikuzushi helped the child to find his way back home, from that point we then began to visit said child. I simply watched from afar, they promised that the child will never leave him because of his sickness. The child smiled at him then me, "how about you? Y/n? You promise you won't leave us right?" I stared at the boy then at Kunikuzushi before nodding "I promise for you and Kunikuzushi." The child smiled before jumping on both me and Kunikuzushi, smiling. I smiled bitterly back, I knew the child couldn't keep his promise for long... I've tried telling Kunikuzushi multiple times yet he wouldn't listen.

Then came the day, I began walking towards the childs home. Kunikuzushi went before me, excited to give the child some melons he found. I scene of fire entered my vision, I ran towards the fire, realizing it's the house of the child. I ran through the fire to see Kunikuzushi, he sat on the floor of the burning house, his eyes duller than before. "He betrayed me Y/n...he betrayed me... Abandoned me... Just like them..." This poor boy.

That was the beginning of his Fatui reign. I stayed by his side for centuries, I couldn't help but stay with him. I couldn't help but love and comfort him. I loved him, with all my heart. He gave me his trust yet here I am. I'm now the eighth harbinger, after the fair lady's death, here I am standing beside the God of Wisdom and the traveler. A gigantic robotic God standing in front of us.

"Y/n...YOU DARE BETRAY ME TO? FOR SO LONG... THE MOMENT I FINALLY GET WHAT I WANT YOU HAD TO BETRAY ME? THE ONLY PERSON WHO I LOVED AND TRUSTED BETRAYED ME!" hearing those words hurt, yet it's true. I betrayed him... But if betraying him means I could save his life... That's the only way I'll go.

Everything else was a blur, all that I remember is fighting him. Now I'm watching as he fell out of the machine. I dashed and caught him in my arms, I stared at his face. Feeling the gazes of the God of Wisdom and the Traveler, I glanced over at them, "Go finish what you need to do, I'll take care of him"

And with that Sumeru was saved. The sages were thrown off their thrones and were sent to punishment. I was declared as one of the new sages by the God of Wisdom herself, Nahida, right after my resignation from the fatui.

Kuni was is a coma, but it wasn't long before he awakened... Yet for many days it was a while until I saw him again.

"I love you y/n, you don't know how long I've been in love with you. Only I've realized it now... After all we've been through, I finally realized." His voice broke every few words. I kissed the top of his head, we can now love each other peacefully now.

"Kunikuzushi..." He turned to me, his eyes widened with surprise. His appearance had changed yet I can tell he's still his old self.

"How do you remember me?"

"How can I forget the one I've spent centuries with? The one I ended up falling in love with?"

Tears filled his eyes as he ran to hug me, resting his head on my chest like he always had.

After centuries, he finally realized who he is. I must thank Nahida for regaining my memories of him.

Now I understand the reason why I've waited so long for him...

[hamsolo]

☄️

(note: Star Wars and any recognizable characters/ settings/ ideas do NOT belong to me.)

Thank you for your patience with this! I hope it was worth the wait!

send me an emoji and I’ll write you as a SW character

"Master Ty, watch your back!" Lasers rain down from above. Dank ferrik! These droids may be dumb but there are so many of them.

"Watch your back Jekk, "I shoot back over my shoulder. This supposed diplomatic mission to Teth has proven to be a whole string of worst-case scenarios. "Agghh!" The laser cut my tunic at the shoulder I hissed at the pain and the smell of burnt flesh. Dumb but decent marksmen.

"Master!"

"I'm fine, get down!" More lasers shot across the rubble in the middle of the street.

Jekk looks like he wants to say something else but another barrage of laser fire descends upon the rubble we're hiding behind. And in the distance, a thermal detonator goes off. A couple beats later, droid parts fly in nearly every direction. One of them attempts to call for backup.

"Master." He tries again.

"Get down! I'm fine," I wince. Force powers can be finicky at the best of times. But in the middle of a battlefield with flying droid parts, blaster bolts, and laser fire?

"But-."

"Shhh...I'm nearly done." With another flick of my wrist the last bit of flesh stitches together. There'll be a scar but what's another one among the dozens I already have?

Boom! Another detonator hits, this time it's closer. Much closer. A statue on the side of the building above breaks clean off of its base and hurtles towards us. Blood pounding my ears, I'm frozen. Rooted to the spot. Thoughts ricochet around my head at lightspeed. If only I hadn't healed myself, if only...

"Master!" Jekk, wonderful Jekk is diverting the statue elsewhere. the motions are fluid and natural. I'm proud and I open my mouth to speak...

"No time, Master! We have to get out of here!" Looping an arm around me, we both get to our feet. He's right, a platoon of battle droids is moving through with heavy artillery.

Igniting our lightsabers, we join the half a dozen or so Jedi left. Blue blades alternatively deflecting the blaster fire and cutting down droids.

Eventually, we convene with the other Jedi and continue to hold the droid army as best as possible.

Swinging and slicing through droids, darting behind fallen architecture. Slowly converging on the city center. Not making a whole lot of progress in an afternoon.

Another break behind a fallen column has half of us wheezing and bent over, hands on knees. And the other half diverting attacks with the Force or lightsabers.

"Master?" Jekk gasps.

"Yes?"

"What...if...we...use the Force to stop them?" he pants.

My mind is figuring out what he means when Shaak Ti gives a thoughtful hum next to me. "It would have to be all of us together, it has to be timed exactly right. But! It could work."

Master Windu nods in agreement, "Good thinking, young one. Containing them not with force but with the Force." He gives Jekk a small but sincere smile.

Jekk's face grows red and I beam with pride. "Let's get to work."

In the few seconds of ceasefire before the heavy artillery is reloaded all the Jedi regroup behind the rubble and the plan is set. With little time to put the plan into action, we work fast.

Now that we've reached the city center, the plan will fall into place with ease. Using the Force, each Jedi and Padawan slips through the shadows or archways, balconies, and alleys to take their position.

I'm barely in place before the droids advance creeping closer to the center of the square. I can feel the vibrations of the Force. The individual vibrations weave together and flow with certainty. I can practically see waves of light ensnaring the enemy.

The trick was to ensnare the droids but not too much all at once. You have to find a balance. Surround them just enough so as contain but not some much as to make it obvious and delay their attack...

C'mon...engage your weapons... We were all thinking the same thing I was sure. I could feel Jekk practically screaming it. At any other point in the battle, time slipped by and actions went by in a blur But now, now the time seemed to stretch and drag.

Then, a shell ejects from a tank, and the army is engulfed in a ball of fire and smoke.

Success! Relief washes over all of us. We did it.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The dust finally begins to clear and Jekk stands, looking up at the sky. "Do you think the negotiations will be successful, Master?"

I follow his gaze skywards toward Naboo where the Trade Federation ships are clustered.

"We have to trust in Master Jinn and his padawan, just as we trust in the Force."

"May the Force be with them," Jekk whispers.

[damientheionandroid]

Damien's 20 Favorite Pokémon

Starting from Generation 8, Pokémon decided to ditch the tradition of "third version" games by making DLC Expansions starting with Sword and Shield's "Isle of Armor" and "Crown Tundra".

If you want my opinion on those DLCs: I haven't played through them and have no intention to. I was bummed out by how lifeless the base game was and there is no way I'm going to beg my dad to buy the DLC despite introducing some admittedly good Quality of Life features such as Max Mushrooms and Mints/Bottlecaps.

As for the Legendary Pokémon associated with the DLCs: Urshifu was "meh" for me (OP Ability notwithstanding), Calyrex and its Steeds I could care less, and the new Regis...

exist.

When GameFreak announced that Pokémon Scarlet and Violet will be getting their own DLC Expansion called "Hidden Treasures of Area Zero", my reaction would be the exact same. Except there was one thing that caught my eye: this weird gremlin creature.

I don't know what hit me, but this thing looks pretty cute.

So, I've decided to watch playthroughs of the DLC, specifically the Teal Mask Expansion. Everything seems fine at first: there's this folklore about a group of Legendary Pokémon sacrificing their lives to protect the village of Kitakami from a terrifying monster (which was the creature I saw). I've managed to spotted the creature in a cutsecene.

And then...

OH MY ARCEUS, ME HEEAAAAAAARRRRRRRTTTT-

[damientheionandroid fainted]

[You have run out of usable Pokémon]

...Uhhhhh, what happened. I think I've blacked out for a second.

What was I talking about?

Oh, Yeah!

2. Ogerpon

Man, I thought I would ignore this DLC altogether, but this Lil' Gremlin gave me hope that things are looking better!

Ogerpon is one of the CUTEST Pokémon I EVER had the pleasure of encountering, and I said that statement wholeheartedly. From the way she bobs left and right to how she jumps for joy makes her look like a little child (And now that you have noticed it, Ogerpon is a Female Legendary and one of a few Gendered Legendary Pokémon)!

And just when I thought I couldn't love this she-devil even more, the folks at GameFreak decided to give Ogerpon the most heartbreaking backstory ever (Yes, even more so than Cubone):

Ogerpon once lived in Kitakami with her master, only to be shunned by the villagers and forced to live in the mountains. The master cared so deeply for Ogerpon, even making four distinct masks for her to wear during the upcoming festival. Unfortunately, Ogerpon caught the attention of the afro-mentioned Three Pokémon (The Loser Loyal Three: Okidogi, Munkidori, and Fezandipiti), and those guys were complete ASSHOLES; raiding her home, stealing her masks, and it is implied they KILLED Ogerpon's master!!! Understandably, "Hell Hath No Fury Like A She-Poké Scorned" and Ogerpon dealt with those three numbnuts VICIOUSLY!!! Unfortunately, this only solidifies the villager's fear and Ogerpon is forced into hiding once again, alone and dejected, while the Three Trashy Stooges are revered through a statue of themselves!

This story breaks my heart for many reasons. I know what it's like to be wronged by the people I cared about in my life, so I feel Ogerpon's pain!

But if there's any consolation, you get to convince the villagers of Kitakami that Ogerpon is no mere Boogeyman, help her gather all of her masks, and finally give her the one thing she desired the most: a friend.

Ogerpon may be an innocent little cinnamon roll, but she is still a Legendary Pokémon and as to be expected, the Masked She-Demon is not afraid to get her nubbins' dirty! And if what happened to The Loser Loyal Three were true, she can be a real Boogeyman if she wants to!

Now, one thing that is special about Ogerpon is that she has four forms depending on the masks she wears; each with different Abilities and Typings, yet she stays a decently fast physical attacker with solid bulk (fitting for a Legendary). The forms, ranked from least to most powerful, are:

• The Base/Teal Mask Form: The weakest Ogerpon form, in my own opinion. Grass isn't a type to be use on its own but it does have some utility such as blocking Powder Based moves like Spore. Defiant is a neat Ability to punish Defog or Intimidate spam.

• The Cornerstone Form: Has some amazing offensive prowess but is weak to the common Steel and Fighting Types you see in higher Smogon Tiers. Sturdy is great for lead sets, but otherwise a solid Ability.

• The Wellspring Form: Grass covers most of Water's weakness, making for a solid defensive typing. Water Absorb might be situational (and perhaps a little redundant), but Ogerpon-Wellspring has seen use countering powerful Water Type threats like Walking Wake and Manaphy.

• The Hearthflame Form: My personal favorite and the only Ogerpon Form to be banned to Ubers. Brings out the offensive side of Ogerpon the most by hitting 7 Types for super effective damage! Mold Breaker means any Pokémon with Flash Fire and Heatproof will know what happens when you piss off a girl!

But that's not all! Ogerpon and her masks have a unique interaction with Terastalization, and it all stems from her Signature Ability: Embody Aspect.

What Embody Aspect does is that it boosts one of Ogerpon's stats by one stage according to the mask she wears: Teal Mask gets a Speed Boost, making her faster; Cornerstone Mask gets a Defense boost, letting Ogerpon tank Physical hits more often; Wellspring Mask gets a Special Defense boosts, letting Ogerpon tank Special hits more often; and Hearthflame Mask gets an Attack boost, letting Ogerpon hit harder than any right to be. This might seem like an OP Ability (and trust me, it is!), but it comes at the cost of overriding the previous Abilities the Ogerpon Forms had: so now Teal Mask can get Intimidated pretty easily, Cornerstone Mask can be OHKO'ed, Wellspring Mask can be hit by Water Type Attacks (though it's no worry since they're not effective), and Hearthflame Mask can be walled by Flash Fire Mons (most notably, Heatran). This means that the right time must be picked for Embody Aspect to be activated, is a pretty high skill ceiling for a Legendary Pokémon, nothing that has ever seen since.

To avoid repeating myself, Ogerpon has some of the best moves you would expect from a DLC exclusive Legendary Pokémon: Wood Hammer, U-Turn, Play Rough, Knock Off, Superpower, and Zen Headbutt as well as amazing support moves in Follow Me, Taunt, Swords Dance and Helping Hand.

However, one move needs a little bit of focus. And that move is none other than Ogerpon's Signature Move: Ivy Cudgel.

This is a 100 BP, 100% accurate Grass type move with a high critical hit chance that changes into either a Fire, Water, or Rock Type whenever Ogerpon is wearing her Hearthflame, Wellspring, or Cornerstone Mask respectively. This gives Ogerpon the Fire/Water/Rock STAB she desperately needed, especially the latter with how innacurate most Rock Type moves are. Also, I love the move's attack animation.

BONK!

The DLC Expansions of the recent Pokémon Games are made just so GameFreak wouldn't waste their time and resources creating an identical copy with a few added content. And while I think that's a scummy way to do so, I would be more than willing to save up some money to buy the Sc/Vl DLC just so I can meet my adorable little pumpkin monster!

From its cute design, to this unique gameplay, to its compellingly tragic backstory, Ogerpon deserves to be my Number 1 Favorite Legendary Pokémon!

But not my PERSONAL FAVORITE Pokémon.

[meditating-dog-lover]

Skin as of now

So my skin is looking pretty decent thankfully. No flareups, no redness, some minor cuts, and a lot of old inflamed spots are clearing up (wrist, neck, and earlobes). My wrist completely cleared up, neck has a dry patch that's not inflamed anymore, left earlobe is fine, and right earlobe is also healing (tiny bit of itchiness and flakiness but nothing concerning). My mouth is also better.

My hands are still dry and have some cuts, but no real signs of bumpiness, inflammation, or ooziness. It's so much better. I believed the steroids/protopic did help reduce the inflammation externally, and the gut supplements helped internally. So this combination got rid of some inflamed spots (which I hope never come back). Thankfully I'm not experiencing a lot of random itchiness like I did in the middle of the week at night for the past 3 consecutive weeks. I'm confident that things are getting better.

I did experience some itchiness on my hands this morning in the car when I applied sunscreen and rubbed my hands together to spread it. I did itch and rub, but it wasn't too bad and the feeling went away soon. But I don't expect my hands to be in perfect shape now, I just expect the inflammation to be better, and it's a lot better compared to May. It's at a point where my skin looks better overall, but the inflammation isn't gone and do experience itchiness and flaring which can make my skin look worse temporarily. But when it heals, it looks better than it did the week before.

So 3 things to consider as root causes of eczema: (1) nutritional deficiencies (vitamin D, omega 3 fatty acids, and zinc), (2) gut imbalances/dysbiosis and dysfunction (staph overgrowth), and (3) food intolerances and food/environmental allergies. For (1) I've switched to a fish oil supplement which can help with my omega deficiency. For (2) I'm still on a gut healing protocol and will see how to continue with that based on what my doctor suggests after I complete my treatment plan. For (3) I'm cutting out eggs and I'm going to do an allergy test soon (I really want to do one because I think it will be extremely helpful).

This evening I experienced some itchiness on my face (not eczema) and some on my legs and a tiny bit on my hands (not a full blown flareup and my hand skin looks clear which means the itch didn't trigger any eczema symptoms). Recently, I do experience this whenever eating some bread (ex: Panera) and I had a homemade sandwich with Ezekiel bread. This does not always happen, but it does here and there. I had Panera at work today and had no issues, it's just something that happens occasionally and more often quite recently Again I will be doing an allergy test. It's mostly my nose that's quite itchy. But it's not severe nor debilitating, it just kind of coincides with an allergy itch. Like I said doing an allergy test can be worth it because allergies can trigger eczema and I can get a full picture of my root causes outside of nutritional deficiencies, genetics, and gut issues. I'm also willing to get allergy shots to alleviate any symptoms if I do test positive for allergies.

But an itchy nose and legs aren't that bad. I'd rather deal with this than an eczema flareup. As I said my mouth, ears, neck, and wrist are a lot better. My hands look less inflamed too, just some dryness and cuts and occasional itchiness. I'll see how things get throughout this week. And I'll be continuing with my supplements and excluding eggs. I'll be doing an allergy test soon and I'll see how to proceed from there (any foods to avoid and if allergy shots can help). Environmental triggers can make eczema worse and that's a bit out of my control unlike food. So I think allergy shots can come in handy if needed.

I do expect to take the vitamin D and omega 3 longterm, the gut supplements I'll ask my doctor (who recommend to keep the antimicrobials if I get any future flareups in order to kill any residual pathogenic bacteria), and I'll see if eggs are still inflammatory in my case and will have the results of my allergy test (food and environmental) and can see how to work around these. I'll still have my steroids and tacrolimus for emergencies if they do come up (I hope they don't but I'm not going to discard my anti-inflammatory medication because that would be a very dumb thing to do on my part) as well as my anti-histamine (if doctor recommends them for allergies). Like I said I have elevated IgE and eosinophils based on my bloodwork, which is a sign I'm having an allergic reaction which can be responsible for my eczema. The next step is to get to the bottom of this and do some allergy testing. On the brightside if I have all this under control, then I doubt I'm ever going to deal with any severe inflammatory episodes of eczema. Thank goodness, this year was absolute hell.

In the worst case possible, I'll have my antimicrobials, antiinflammatory ointment, allergy test results, and access to a functional medicine doctor (reaching out to one was the smartest thing I've done this year).

[creatureshrieks]

Okay so here's some basics about how I'm gonna handle Adriana because her lore is so, so ass.

Her father is from Japan and immigrated to Brazil where he met her mother, keeping that. He's a mangaka, as per the lore states. Adriana was spoiled by her father and grew up idolizing him. They were incredibly close, though the family's poor status and lack of money + the hopes of her parents turned her into a very intense perfectionist. They wanted a better life for her and, in turn, she wanted a better life for them. So she tries hard for them, too. Gets into a prestigious school and heavily focuses on science, math, computers and robotics. She even joins a programming and robotics club. Adriana is decently popular in school, she's pretty and smart. She's charismatic and good at getting people to listen to her. Then, of course, due to the expenses for the school, her family gets poorer, his manga fails. Adriana puts her skills to use and designs a website, gets ads coming in. Convinces people to write the website for her while she takes in the cash. It helps, a little, but her father is still reclusive. Something is wrong with him, off. But Adriana just thinks it's the money troubles. Not that he's been getting terrible visions, whispers. Not that he's drawing what she asks for.

and then he vanishes without a trace, destroying all of his work, save for the manga dedicated to the Skull Merchant. And that shakes Adriana up. She adored her father and all she has left of him is a final, incomplete manuscript. There must be a reason this one was saved, that THIS is what he left her with. So she pours herself over it, trying to find what about it was so important and special. And then she gets dreams, too. About the comic. About her father. She thinks this is the secret her father had (The Entity visits her too, feed into her issues of abandonment and her own delusions). She still ends up falling behind that boy in her school, stalking him and trying to find out weaknesses, but I'm not... having her just do nothing in the end. She does attack him at some point. She doesn't kill him, but she wants to hurt him. He didn't deserve that first spot and she needs him to know that. She's better than him and she deserved it. I do believe the Entity had a hand in her becoming the legitimate Skull Merchant, preying on her abandonment while also boosting the blood lust she already had in her. I'm also saying that Tome: Ascension doesn't exist because that's ungodly fucking stupid. She's a self-made billionaire woman that literally hunts people because she thinks it's fun. The Tome reads stupid, sounds stupid, and is just overall not enjoyable. I know the vibes they wanted from SM and it just does not read through at ALL. Adriana also likes anime and video games. That's basically canon and I'm keeping it. She does it in her spare time - but she also is very much a business woman too. Very rich, very powerful, and definitely would dip into lots of black market deals outside of just plain murder. She likes to hunt people, she likes the power it gives her. She's egotistical, violent, spiteful. She's a massive perfectionist, but she also reads manga and watches anime and k-dramas and all kinds of things. Putting her age and PROBABLY 25 because it mentions in her lore Adriana started killing in her early 20s and it only lasted a few years. She's not that old. At the oldest I could picture 27.

also this is her default/canon outfit for me because her default is fucking stupid and if she's basing herself off her father's manga, I think he'd probably design something more akin to this. So this is what she wears.

Adriana is also incredibly smart and speaks multiple languages. At home she spoke Japanese and Portuguese, but she also eventually learned English and Korean as she prefers to understand/handle business herself without need for a translator if she can help it.

[reidsaurora]

Prompt: Spencer trying to cook for his partner? ❤️‍🩹 (hope this is a fun one)

anon, i could not have asked for a better prompt! i've been meaning to write something like this for a while and you finally pushed me to write it so thank you! ❤️

"Burnt Food" ~ S. Reid

Summary: With Y/N and Spencer's wedding anniversary right around the corner, Spencer is determined to make his wife the most memorable meal she's ever had. However… the dinner ends up being memorable in a way Spencer couldn't have never hoped for less.

Pairing: Husband!Spencer Reid x Fem!Wife!Reader (because i'm obsessed with the idea of marrying this man, fight me)

Word Count: 781

Content Warning: mention of food and alcohol, mild sexual content, implied smut at the end but no details

Genre: lots of Fluff. as i always say, what else did y'all expect from me 😭

Extra Notes: yes the title is stolen from The Good Doctor bc i just started rewatching it hehehehe

Based On the Prompt: "Spencer trying to cook for his partner?"

Originally Written: 09/16/22

Beta Read By: @reidsbookclub (love u forever bestie)

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When it comes to cooking, Spencer's skills are… less than satisfactory, we'll say.

It wasn't like he hadn't tried being a decent chef. Many nights, he'd found himself staring at a fancy Pinterest recipe, hoping and praying and crossing his fingers that it would turn out right.

Still, between his father never teaching him how to cook and his mother being unable to cook at all, Spencer never really could get the hang of sautéing vegetables to the correct consistency or browning ground beef just right.

But with his one year wedding anniversary right around the corner, he was determined to make a meal so spectacular that it would put even Gordon Ramsay to shame.

In the days leading up to his anniversary, Spencer spent every free moment he had browsing the internet for the perfect dinner recipe. Spaghetti? No, too stereotypical. Roasted turkey? No, too difficult. Steak? No, too stereotypical and too difficult.

Finally, just as Spencer clicked on what he swore would be his last article for the night, he spotted it.

Garlic butter salmon.

"How hard could salmon be?" he pondered. "Surely it's like chicken. Chicken's pretty easy."

Oh, how Spencer underestimated the intricacy of cooking the perfect salmon.

An hour into his cooking endeavors, he found himself extremely disappointed by the food in front of him and slightly annoyed with himself for insisting that his wife get a manicure while he prepared her surprise.

He didn't even hear the door open as he stood in horror, staring at mushy and overcooked asparagus, rice pilaf that was dry enough to be mistaken for dog food, and what was left of the now shredded salmon. "Perhaps I underestimated the instructions when the article insisted that salmon could fall apart easily if not flipped properly," Spencer internally admitted to himself.

The only thing that had made it out intact from Spencer's disastrous cooking attempt was the bottle of chardonnay, which he now feared he'd somehow manage to screw up too. "Does she even like this brand? What good is an eidetic memory if I can't even remember what brand of wine she likes?" his inner monologue war continued.

"Spence?" Y/N asked softly, watching her husband stand over the stove in what could only be described as sheer terror.

Spencer turned his head slowly, wishing he could disappear. "Yeah?" he replied in the same tone, the feeling of pricking tears burning his eyes.

"What are you doing?" she further inquired, more so having reference to his facial expression rather than his actual actions.

"Um…" he hesitated, trying to figure out exactly how he should explain himself, "Well… I wanted to make you dinner for our anniversary."

"Uh huh."

"But, uh… it didn't work out very well."

Y/N's expression softened as she looked over the food. "Well, that was very kind of you."

Spencer's mouth went into that signature scrunch like it always did as he continued to hold back tears of disappointment. "But… I ruined it."

Y/N reached up, running her fingers delicately along Spencer's shoulder. "Honey, you didn't ruin anything. I prefer my asparagus well done anyway," she said, finishing her statement with a giggle.

His scrunch formed into a half-smile as he looked down at his wife. "I wanted to make you this nice dinner as a gesture to say 'thank you for always putting up with me' but I fear I've made the problem worse."

A laugh made its way out of Y/N's lips—Spencer's favorite noise to ever grace his eardrums. "There is no other man I'd ever want to put up with other than you," she smiled, her hand moving from his shoulder to the loose ringlets at the bottom of his neck. "I mean, I don't know any other man I'd willingly take to a movie theater just to watch a four-hour-long Russian movie with him."

Finally, for the first time all day, a laugh spilled from Spencer's mouth. "Thank you. I appreciate it."

Y/N's other hand made its way to Spencer's chest, her thumb rubbing small circles near the collar of his button-down. "At least the intermission was fun," she smirked, having flashbacks to all that they'd put that family bathroom through.

Spencer's eyebrows raised suggestively. "You know… we still have a perfectly good bottle of wine to celebrate with," he proposed, moving his hands to sit lightly on her hips.

Y/N leaned up to leave a long, hungry, and somewhat sloppy kiss on Spencer's buttery lips. "At least the garlic butter tasted good," she thought to herself.

Their lips chased each other as they wandered through their shared apartment, Spencer's burnt rice and shredded salmon soon being long forgotten.

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YALL I CANNOT EXPRESS TO YALL HOW MUCH I LOVE THIS BLURB 😭

I've been meaning to write a fic like this ever since I saw this post by @radiant-reid and I am so so so happy it turned out as well as it did. I've loved this concept ever since I first read the post and I'm so happy I finally got a chance to write my own little version of it.

Anyway, I hope you guys enjoyed! This is definitely one of my favorite fluffy things I've written recently. I think it's so cute and simple but so sweet.

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hi! im really nervous because this is my first time requesting anything! (if i do anything wrong please delete this im so embarrassed 🥲) but i loved your fic ‘tutor’ and i was wondering if you could maybe write something based on the song ‘green green dress’ from tick, tick...BOOM! if not that is totally fine! (please don’t feel obligated to write anything!!) and before i forget, with andrew garfield’s spiderman :) have a great day!

Oh That Dress

Pairings: TASM!Peter Parker x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: Peter just can't seem to keep his hands off the second he sees that dress on you. So he decides to go down on you.

Warnings: smut, praise kink, oral receiving(female), fingering

Author's Note: hi! I'm having mixed feelings about this(literally me every time I post), but I did hope you all enjoy this. I do low-key want there to be a part two only because I have a somewhat decent idea, but let me know if you guys would want that:)

—

The dress hugged your curves perfectly. It fell so delicately against your skin. Along with the black stockings. How could Peter not keep his eyes off of you? It was impossible. His mind was flooded with scenarios where you would be under him countless of times. All he wanted though was to be right in between your thighs. He felt his pants tighten and cursed you for the hard-on you caused him. Of course to his luck you stood right in front him, your bum facing him. He tried his best, he really did try to divert his eyes to his phone or something, but it was pointless.

"Peter...Peter...Peter!" You called out his name. "Huh? Yeah?” He blinked trying to compose himself. “You okay there, weirdo?” You chuckled. He nodded rather frantically as if he were hiding something. You spun around to face him. “Okay then. Opinions on my dress?” Fuck. Oh how he wanted the earth to swallow him alive. “It-it looks good.” He knew if he said more he wouldn’t be able to stop himself. "Just good? But I got for you." You teased him. He walked up to you, making you back up until your thighs hit your desk. “All for me huh?” He whispered in your ear sending shivers down your spine. "You know we don't have to have to go out, we could just stay here and do something else." You knew very well what he was aiming towards.

His hand laid on your neck, but not squeezing it only leaving subtle caresses. “Peter.” kiss “We have to” kiss “Go” kiss. He pulled you in even more, allowing you to feel his prominent bulge. His hands traveled down your sides stopping right above your bum. Deep down you knew the right thing to do was to go out, but as of right now all you wanted was his hands all over you. He began kissing your neck until he found your sweet spot where he began sucking on. You let out a breathy moan. His hands played with the strap along with the buttons that held your dress together.

After pulling your dress up to your waist, his hands caressed your upper thighs. He left kisses all over them, but never kissed or touched you where you most needed him. "Peter..d-do something please." You were never one to have patience.  "I thought you wanted to go out? Now you’re so desperate for me." He teased before his finger touched your clit making you flinch. He laughed at your reaction before continuing his movements. His finger moved in figure eights making you squirm. You whined at the loss of contact before he laid his tongue between your thighs. His mouth wrapped around your clit adding to your stimulation. As he continued devouring you he snuck two fingers past your folds making you gasp. "Fuck Peter!" You moaned as your fingers tangled in his hair. He managed to understand her body language allowing him to find the right pace. Your thighs closed around his head pushing him in deeper.

“Peter-I’m” You could barely let out any words. The knot in your stomach began to overtake your body. He hummed at your actions and words, never letting you go, being fully devoted to making you feel amazing. His fingers hit your g-spot countless times, sending you over the edge. You squirmed from the pleasure as your orgasm ripped through you. You let your body go limp onto the mattress as you tried your best to catch your breath. Peter removed himself from in between your legs with the biggest smirk on his face. “You taste amazing, baby. Think I’m going to need more.” He said before diving back in.