#if it got a little ''used car salesman'' by the end then that was the wine. the wine is NOT people

[avocado-writing]

The idea of Wade as a used car salesman found a love of his life during his midlife crisis before he met Logan. They don’t have a clue that he’s Deadpool. They just fall in love with Wade the used car salesman Wade Wilson, even see him as a funny, harmless person till one day his partner showing a picture of Deadpool and goes “He looks hot, could we find some costume to wear next time we fuck, dear?”

Wade totally forgot that he’s retired from Deadpool cause he’s in his suit, ready to fuck the love of his life for eternity. 👀

Wade Wilson knew he was in love the first time you cried laughing over one of his stupid jokes.

You’re probably too good for him with your easy smile and kind heart, and he knows he’s punching above his weight when he asks you out - but somehow you end up saying yes. 

At the bar that night he keeps you laughing until there are tears in your eyes and then continues the show in bed. It’s so lovely to have you all giggly under him, pressed into the mattress as he makes you cum so hard all you can do is moan. 

You lie there, walking your fingers up and down his chest, molasses-slow as the streetlights outside your apartment silhouette you both in fluorescence. 

“I like you, Wade. You’re nice,” you sigh, in a way which suggests you don’t often meet nice people. Ah man, he fucking melts. He’s never letting you go. 

Your relationship is pretty easy. He never feels like he has to work to impress you or keep you onside, you like him for him. It’s a… refreshing feeling, from a world where Wade Wilson constantly feels like he’s too much. 

He catches the Deadpool keyring on your house keys one night after the two of you have grabbed pizza on the way home; spotting the telltale red and black while trying to keep a pile of boxes in place between his hands and his chin. 

“Oh, Deadpool fan?” he asks, trying to affect nonchalance. He sees you get a little flustered. 

“I mean… yeah? Back in his heyday I thought he was cute, kind’ve a shame he disappeared. Merc with a mouth, what’s not to love?” you pause for a second. “He reminds me of you actually.”

Wade laughs at that way too loud and way too hard.

“What? No. That’s crazy!”

You throw him a side-eye but don’t comment further. 

He lets it rest for a couple of days so as not to draw suspicion, but when you make yourself a cup of coffee and his own mask is staring back at him from the ceramic, he can’t hide his wandering eyes. 

“What’s up?” you ask. 

“Nothing. Just didn’t realise they made those.” He didn’t get a cut. Should he have gotten a cut? Would have been nice if whoever had merchandised his face had asked him if he was cool with it.  

“Oh, look, everyone has a crush on at least one superhero, okay? It’s impossible not to. They’re everywhere and they’re hot!”

He lets himself digest this. You think Deadpool is a superhero? He didn’t get that much. Mostly he was referred to as “god’s curse to crimefighting”. But also you have a crush on him? Both of these facts are… interesting. 

“I… think Deadpool is hot, too,” Wade blurts out when he realises he’s been silent for ten uninterrupted seconds. 

“Oh,” you reply, settling down a little when it turns out he’s in agreement with you. “Well, cool! Glad we can agree.”

Phew. Got outta that one, then. 

He really doesn’t think any more of it, or tries not to, until a couple of weeks later when you bring it up in bed. 

“Wade, can I ask something kinda kinky?”

Cuddled in post-coital bliss, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your skin, he pauses. 

“Abso-fuckin’-lutely, sweet cheeks. I’d be offended if you didn’t.”

“How do you feel about roleplay?”

He turns to you with a grin which threatens to split his face in half.

“Oh, you’ve been keeping that under your hat!” he laughs, “But, in answer to the question, very positive. What were you thinking? Cop and criminal? Nurse and patient? I’m down to play any of those roles by the way, I believe in equal gender opportunities in the bedroom.”

You chuckle, but when you tuck a piece of hair behind your ear and try to work out how to phrase the next part of the question, he cottons on. 

“Oh my god. You want me to roleplay Deadpool, don’t you?”

“It’s okay if you don’t want to! It’s just, you said you thought he was sexy… so I wondered…”

He puts a finger on your lips, stoppering the spill of panic from your lips. 

“Baby, I am so down to clown that you might as well call me Pennywise. Let me sort the details and I’ll give you the best night of in-character boning that’s ever been known to man.”

You look giddy at that promise. Truth be told, he’s kinda excited himself. 

Wade retrieves the suit the next day and feels a little weird putting it back on, covering his body again with red and black. When he’s done this in the past it’s in order to go and kill like, a lot of people, not to fulfil a fantasy. But hey - there’s a first time for everything. And it’ll make you so happy, too.

You scream when he taps on your window from his perch on your fire escape. Admittedly he should have told you he was coming, but he thought it could be a fun and sexy surprise. He was wrong. 

“WHAT THE FUCK—!”

Wade whips off the mask as you lunge for your kitchen knife set, hands up in a gesture of peace. 

“Baby! Babe, it’s just me!”

You go limp with relief, leaning against the counter to support yourself. 

“Holy shit! Wade, what the fuck do you think you’re…”

You trail off as you take in the picture of your boyfriend crawling in through the tiny window decked out in his suit. An eyebrow raises. 

“Oh.”

“Yeah! See, I told you I’d sort it.”

Anger and fear now completely ablated, you walk a slow circle around where he stands in your kitchen, appraising his look. 

“This is a high quality suit. Where did you get it?”

“Peter,” he says quickly. This isn’t a lie. He did get it from Peter… Peter’s locker anyway. You look confused. 

“Our coworker Peter?” When Wade nods you furrow your brow. “He… he hasn’t fucked in this suit, has he?”

“No!” says Wade with far too much force. Actually he can’t prove that. Now it’s an image he can’t shake from his mind. Not super conducive to the mood. 

He takes a knife from his belt, and your eyes go wide in a mixture of panic and arousal. 

“Oh my god…”

“It’s blunt! Well. It’s sharp enough for me to cut your underwear off, which I’ve been rocking a semi all day from imagining…”

From the smile which takes up your face, he knows he’s done right. 

Any way you ask him to fuck you, he does. Over your dresser. Against your wall. While running the dulled point of baby knife over the curve of your ass as he pistons his hips inside you, getting the mess of your cum all over the front of his suit. It’s filthy. It’s fantastic. 

But when you lay there cuddled up to his chest that night, Wade feels… conflicted. It isn’t that he’s lying to you, exactly, but it feels like he’s keeping a pretty fucking big secret. 

If you knew, would you still like him? Still want to be with him? Having a crush on a superhero is one thing, but being with one is entirely different. Ask any of the assorted Spider-Man and their various fucked up partners. It isn’t always pretty.

As if determined to take his mind away from this thought you nuzzle into his side, blissfully fucked out. He buries his lips into your hair. 

It never needs to be an issue. Deadpool is retired. He’s never gonna be used for non-kinky reasons again. 

…right?

taglist: @falsewordz @malfoys-demigod @belilwen @mildly-salted @tvwebs @childeslegstrap @getmeoutofhell @s1eep-o @just-a-beatlemaniac69 @yrthr @momopad @sugarplumz100 @captainjinkx @madspads @acrosstheunivcrse @yeethaw13 @na-is-salty @florduarte @hunterispunk @starfleetteddybear

[shurisneakers]

paper man

warnings: angst, no sad ending, talks of death. unedited drabble that was written in 20 minutes.

a/n: i wanted angst and couldn't find any so i did this myself. will this make it onto my masterlist? who knows. it's 11pm and i have mary by big thief playing. my cat is yelling at me and really killing the sad girl vibe i got going. why does bucky look like a used car salesman in thunderbolts. whatever. love u guys

word count: 660

“If I die tomorrow,” he starts, eyes still staring into the TV.

Your eyebrow quirks. “You're not going to die tomorrow. We're going bowling.”

“If I die tomorrow,” Bucky repeats, and you know he's not with you. He's wandering around the morning fog and thickets of his mind, arm stuck out while he meanders inside a labyrinth.

It's late. He's right on time. You know from experience that his thoughts don't belong to him after the sun sets.

“I–” he begins, and then his mouth clamps shut again.

From across the couch, you shoot him a glance that hopefully conveys understanding. Fast food wrappers litter the worn leather, hurdles between the both of you.

“I don't have a will,” he finally manages to get out.

You let out an exhale, soft.

“Let's make one now?” you offer.

Through his mist, he looks at you. Eyes the way it would be if you tried staring into the sun. Mouth tired, shoulders so low it sinks into dirt.

“I'll write it on my phone. We can do something about it in the morning,” you continue.

Bucky turns back to the TV, and the mindless chatter of late night commercials fills in the silence you leave in your wake.

He could die tomorrow. So could you. So could everyone you knew. It was an occupational hazard you thought he'd made his peace with.

Your phone lies beside you, and you're honestly a little embarrassed that your suggestion was shot down.

Most days you don't know what he needs. Admittedly, he doesn't either. Sometimes slow kisses with his back pressed up against the headboard does the trick. Other days….well, you don't know. He never lets you see those.

You can't blame him. What you both had with each other found a description in the quiet and the twilight. You hadn't even really spent the night in his room.

“I don't have anythin’ to leave,” his voice comes out like gravel, snapping you out of the pit you wanted to dig yourself. “That's the thing. If I die tomorrow, I don't have anythin' to my name. Nothin’ that matters anyway.”

His gaze shifts downward ever so slightly. If the TV wasn't illuminating his face in a pale sickly yellow, you'd see that his cheeks were burning red. His throat feels like it's folded in on itself.

“You got people to leave things for?” you ask, watching him keenly.

He catches your eye, sending a jolt through you. You shift awkwardly on the couch.

“Think so,” he says solemnly. It reads more like a question, with the way he observes you.

“Okay.” You nod. “Then we'll find you things.”

His eyebrows knit together, deepening the crease between them.

“I don't know where to start.” His words sound raw, like a croak.

You watch his head duck again. His body is stiff, and he looks like he wants to crawl out of his skin.

You look around the room, but your eyes land on the paper remains of your dinner. A thought crossed your mind, and you hesitate.

Bucky is too busy trying to see through thick trees and fog. It stretches above him so tall, taking away even what little sunlight crawls through the leaves.

The couch dips next to him and he's snapped out his labyrinth for a second.

Your hand is held out for his. It comes so naturally that he doesn't even remember stretching his palm out to meet yours.

You drop a tiny paper man onto his metal hand. It's twisted together from a napkin and its mangled limbs are uneven.

“Just a place to start,” you tell him softly.

Bucky stares at it while you inch back to your place.

While you shift the channel to something less repetitive and tedious, his fingers wrap around the origami project.

The fog fades in the light of the morning. The trees look a little less daunting.

He's got people to leave things for.

And a tiny paper man.

[pearlzier]

it was incredibly hard for matt to focus on painting your nails when you were staring at him like that. it's not even your fault! you're just looking at him, since what else are you to look at, and he's making such a big deal out of it. your brow furrows a tiny bit, playfully, as he grumbles under his breath about ‘your pretty face’, and you can't help but mumble a response—“what was that?”

his blue eyes lift to yours and his brow cocks upward, like he didn't say anything. “huh? nothing, sit still for me,” he said that under the guise that you'd forget hearing what he'd said.

well, you didn't. “something about my pretty face, perhaps?” you flicker your eyes over his face as a giggle slips past your lips, and the eyeroll that comes from matt only tells you everything you needed to know. “do you have something you need to tell the class, mister sturniolo?”

a childish scoff escaped him and he gave you a little cheeky grin, rolling his shoulders in a shrug soon after. “you keep starin’ at me,” he starts, “s'a lot.”

“a lot?” your tone is so incredulous it makes him giggle. so he nods, biting back another giggle at your raised brows that meet his gaze. “how is me looking at you a lot?”

matt feels the need to correct you, “staring, not lookin’. fuckin’ thousand yard stare,” he smiles a little more at the way you laugh at his words. “m'bein’ honest! don't laugh at me. when you laugh, you move your hands. how m'i supposed to paint ‘em like this?” he huffs at your giggling, although it's very clearly playful.

“fine, fine, sorry,” you offer your hand out, watching as he applied the polish gently but skillfully. he was probably one of the only people you trusted to paint your nails, besides the nail techs at your local salon. first of all, matt was good eye candy. and he was committed to the job. “never seen you so focused,” he looks at you through his lashes for a faint moment, before he returns to looking at your nails.

“i'd be even more focused if you kept your mouth shut,” he retorted almost instantly, giggling at his own words. your mouth falls open, comically wide, and you splutter for a response which doesn't actually come, which results in matt bursting into laughter. and a bit of stray nail polish coating your finger. “oh, motherfucker.”

“if i die—”

“it's because i'd have killed you,” matt presses a kiss to your forehead, making his way past to go grab a wipe, and perhaps also a tissue in case he needs to use nail polish remover. as he passes back over, you impulsively give him a pat on the ass like you're a car salesman; he glances over at you for a moment, expression unamused. “you're not funny.”

“i so am,” you hum, giggling as he sits back down in front of you with an exaggerated sigh. he brings your finger closer to him so he can wipe it down. your eyes focus on him once more, and this time, he lifts his gaze to meet yours gently.

he smiles once more, sighing when he comes to the realisation you won't actually stop staring. “think you got a staring issue, babe,” matt's voice is warm, and he gives you a little nudge with his shoulder. “oh, finished by the way.”

you were a little preoccupied with responding to the accusations, when you in fact did realise he was finished. a gasp escaped you, and your gaze lifted back to his again—“since when?”

“were too busy starin’ to realise,” matt sat back in his chair, popping the lid back onto the nail polish. until he saw that look in your eyes and he scooted his chair back instantly. “absolutely not.”

“matt,” the moment your hand reached for the nail polish, and then his, he practically ran. “come back!” you whine, and he's literally gone to hide from you doing his nails.

“i don't trust you with nail polish!” knowing you, you'd end up snorting it and getting high. or getting him high.

[vintagetvstars]

Claude Rains Vs. William Hopper

Propaganda

Claude Rains - (Alfred Hitchcock Presents, Wagon Train, Rawhide) - "The reason I got into Old Hollywood and started studying theatre and film! He's such a little cutie as well as a smoking hot, velvet voiced morsel of evil - he's that good and can play both so easily!..." text propaganda continued below the cut.

William Hopper - (Perry Mason) - "Why do I love him? The list abounds..." text propaganda continued below the cut.

Master Poll List | How to submit propaganda | What is vintage? (FAQ)

Additional propaganda below the cut

Claude Rains:

While he might be more famous for his movie roles(like Casablanca, The Invisible Man, Lawrence of Arabia, Now, Voyager, and Mr. Skeffington to name a few!), he was also a television star in his own right! He had lots of guest spots on various shows but in the tv-realm, he's probably the most well known for his work for "Alfred Hitchcock Presents" and was a frequent collaborator with Hitch himself, having the spotlight for five episodes! My favorite tv performance of his was playing Father Amion in the episode "The Horseplayer", where he plays the kindest priest who gets taken for a ride and it's so heartbreaking to see him in tears where he confesses that it's his fault the church's funds were used for less than better means (but it all works out in the end!). It's such an honest performance and it's a refreshing change from all his evil villians (but we love them anyway!) he'd done in the past. Another favorite performance of mine is his performance as Leonard Eldridge in the episode "The Door Without a Key", a seemingly amnesiac old man who makes a bond with a lost boy in a police station. They're adorable together and I found myself tearing up a little when they both confess how lonely they are in the world.

William Hopper -

William Hopper was a tall guy (6'3"!) but such a gentle sweetheart. He was in acting for the majority of his life (barring serving as a frogman in WWII and working as a car salesman post-war for a few years), but he really stepped into his own with his role as Private Detective Paul Drake in the Perry Mason TV Series from 1957-1966. William Hopper actually didn't really love the Hollywood scene, mostly because he grew up with it since he was a child. His mother was Hedda Hopper and she really wanted him to be an actor and became quite overbearing about it, but he was more of an introverted soul. He first started out in films in his early 20s, but William Hopper always felt like people were giving him jobs because of his mother's influence with her gossip column. HOWEVER, after the war and after William Hopper sold cars for a few years, he came back to acting but he said he was only going to come back if 1) he did it his way/gave himself to it and 2) his mother stayed out of his career so he could make it on his own. Those two things happened, and William Hopper made his own way.

His big major starring role in a television series was, without a doubt, Perry Mason. He was Private Detective Paul Drake. To take on that role, William Hopper personally went out and made friends with Private Detectives to try to bring their experiences to his role. William Hopper also was credited by Alan Alda for showing the acting world how to shine as an actor without demanding the spotlight all the time. Alda said: “William Hopper’s ability to be present in a scene without demanding the spotlight is an art form in itself. He showed us that one can shine without the blinding glare.” Which, I think, really was a big testament to William Hopper playing a private detective--- he was always commanding the series and making the moves and observations that led to finding the guilty person in a criminal case, but he was always doing so in a way that was true to the work of a private detective: hiding and working in plain sight.

Other fun facts about William Hopper that make him so lovable: he LOVED the beach and loved fishing and swimming. When he wasn't filming for Perry Mason (they would film 6 days a week for 1 episode during filming), William Hopper would go to the beach. According to an interview, William Hopper's personal wardrobe was mostly casual clothes: swim trunks, sandals, and sweatshirts. He took all his formal wear to the Perry Mason set and just kept it there to wear when he played Paul Drake. He said if he ever had to go to a formal occasion, he would just go drive to the Perry Mason set and pick out one of his outfits. But the formal wear he had was bold! He wore houndstooth jackets, various checked patterns, and herringbone. If he wasn't at the beach, he loved to go to baseball games. In school, he played sports: swimming, baseball, boxing, and basketball.

he's the guy on the far left - I know his face is hard to see here but I'm going for the Hot Vintage Man bare shoulders vibe:

I spoke before about how William Hopper made a lasting impact as an actor portraying Paul Drake and shining without demanding the spotlight, but he also made a lasting contribution to Paul Drake's character. Paul Drake was a character based on Erle Stanley Gardner's books, which were published between 1933-1973. When William Hopper got the role as Paul Drake in the Perry Mason TV show from 1957-1966, Gardner was still writing the books. When asked about playing Paul Drake, William Hopper said: "If they thought they were getting Paul Drake, they were mistaken. Because what they got was me, nobody else. I play him my way. Now I'm amused to read Gardner's new books. Paul Drake comes out like me."

He made such a lasting impression on Paul’s character on TV that even the author of the books started writing Paul like William Hopper's interpretation!

There's also an anecdote from the wardrobe supervisor on the set of Perry Mason who said William Hopper was a very kind man, a good guy, and a good actor. William Hopper's cast mate, Raymond Burr, once said that "William Hopper was even more precise, more good looking, more fun" in real life than what we, the viewers, got to see him on screen.

To add some more to Raymond Burr's point that William Hopper was "fun", he liked to play practical jokes with his castmates on Perry Mason. In an interview, William Hopper said "You might say there's never a serious moment except on camera." He and all his castmates on the set loved to play jokes with each other to make each other laugh. So he was just a fun guy to be around, apparently!

Also, in the final season of Perry Mason, William Hopper cut a tendon on his foot while filming and he wound up in a cast. They had to rewrite the final episodes so that William Hopper didn't have to do a lot of running around like he usually does. Well, in all those final episodes, you wouldn't even tell that William Hopper was in a cast and having to move around in crutches. And I realize that yeah, they rewrote the scripts to help, but William Hopper doesn't waiver once and doesn't let on about his injury. Plus, according to an interview, the cast attached a little horn to William Hopper's crutches and William Hopper would honk the horn when he was coming to let his cast mates know he was there. Which I just kind of think is sweet.

idk I feel like his hands are pretty beautiful here:

Also, I talked before about William Hopper struggling a bit in finding his own way in acting. It wasn't really until he got into TV shows and with Perry Mason that he felt like he found his place and enjoying acting. Before, William talked about being nervous in front of the camera, but it was working on a LIVE TV show with Claire Trevor when he said, "I was so scared I canceled. I swore I'd never act again as long as I lived. Then I thought, what the heck, they can't shoot me, and walked on the set. Something happened then. It was as if someone had surgically removed the nerves."

And when he talks about his role as Paul Drake, he said, "I'm very fond of him, and as long as Perry Mason is around on television defending various and sundry clients, Paul and I will be very happy to be around helping him."

So he really came into his own as Paul Drake, which I really love about William Hopper. To know he found his way and made something he felt proud of.

Also in terms of William Hopper being physically attractive, I mean, he was so incredible. He once said he was just a guy with premature grey hair and a non throbbing actor, but I personally think he's a heart throb. He had the most loveable smile, broad shoulders, a deep, sultry voice, amazing chest hair (lol), and like.. really absurdly beautiful hands?!? He was also really tall and strong but also by every account he was really gentle and sweet. Larger than life. Sometimes in the Perry Mason shows, William Hopper would swim and he has an incredible swim scene that rivals Mr. Darcy. He's in swim trunks and wins a swim race and comes dripping out of the pool to make anyone swoon. I just love him!

[blueberrypancakesworld]

Helloooo! I've been wanting to share rhis idea of mine for our emo boy Martin.

What if the reader and Martin were like friends. And he always has a thing for her as he should because this us, hello? And then when the reader went to his place and saw him all bloodied and beaten up, she started taking care of him, and he was not used to it so he became sobby babyboy overwhelmed and couldn't helped it so he kiss the reader and things got escalated. iykyk

That's all for my rambling, thank you so muchhh!

Friends? But more and more

Martin x fem!reader

warning : +18, smut, oral (f reciving), small fluff/comfort, kissing, pain kink, wounds and treating

Summary : Friend or more? Was there something between them? Did it just take a trigger at the end to realise that there was more than just the hurt and the caring? Whatever it was, it seemed to be everything because when she felt his lips on hers, all worries seemed to be over and this something between them could finally be free and love each other.

info : Thank you very much for this request dear anon i'm glad i could give your rambling a little space. And I mean of course he loves us what else ;) Have fun reading and see you next time :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In the morning hours of the small foggy town, a car with its owner makes its way to a relatively single house. A place she had been to many times, at least so often that she knew the way by heart, the things she could always pick up a few days later, whether it was a new seatbelt, a box of beer, a coat or just cigarettes.

It was a relationship between them like friends, like a salesman and his regular customer, she gave him what he needed and he…yes, what did he give her besides money and a little talk between them.

But maybe having him around was something she needed and had learnt to appreciate, because when the fog settles over the city you can get a bit lonely, the streets are barely visible, the houses are barely visible and you yourself are barely visible, you're glad of any contact, she knew that and she knew that Martin knew it too.

,,How bad will it be this time?" she asked herself as she turned into his street, her fingers drumming lightly on the cool leather of the steering wheel, no rhythm and looking ahead of her rather expectantly, knowing that it always looked different every night.

Sometimes he had little more than a bruise and some days she could almost have taken him to the hospital but he always waved her off, not only too annoying but also ruining his fun or so he had once mumbled to her.

Whenever she came to him he sat on his bed smoking, playing or just seemed to be living his life so tragically and yet so pitifully he didn't want that, whatever it was for him it no longer mattered as she parked outside his house and got out of her car wondering as she used the key if her helicopter was still intact.

The opening of the door always caused a creaking noise she heard moving around the room in the small flat, ,,It's me!" she shouted through the living room knowing he heard her, putting on a shirt and trying not to look quite so broken even though she was already used to the sight.

Her footsteps approached his room and the wooden door opened, her surprise was immediate when she saw him sitting on the edge of his bed, ,,Hi…glad you're here," he said, his long black beams falling into his mind almost as if his own body didn't want her to see what had happened to him again.

But she could have guessed it instead she just sighed slightly saw that the helicopter was back in its box and standing on the dresser ready to be picked up normally she would have taken the fifty dollars and sat in the doorway with him for another thirty minutes.

Talking about everything and nothing and would have left but now she was on her way to his kitchen knowing that she was once again doing him the etxra favour because maybe it was her heart that was stopping her from leaving.

Without a word she came back with the first aid kit she needed, stood in front of him and put her hand under his chin, ,,Please show me Martin," she said quietly, knowing how quickly he could change when he nevertheless gave in and looked up at her, a look of pain and satisfaction in her eyes, ,,You-You don't have to do it," he almost whispered as she told him to slide back a little further onto the bed so that she could position herself better next to him.

She could almost see how he went from relaxed to tense and wanted to push away from her while she came closer to him at the same time. Uncertainty ran through him as if he didn't know what to do, as if he was overwhelmed by her presence or maybe it was because he loved her closeness, he loved it when she was with him, her voice, her loving nature and also her body. But all this remained hidden from her for the moment.

She took care of him, gently stroking the strands of hair from his face, seeing his somewhat guarded expression, the warmth radiating from his body almost inviting as he held still, the warm cheeks almost pink as she was so close to him she would be lying if she said she didn't like him. He might have been a bit strange but who wasn't?

Everyone had a strange way about them and Martin she had often seen him like this, beaten up but happy, making videos, smoking and doing other special things in his world where she only had a small place.

But maybe this small space meant more to him, ,,Almost there" she said as she tried to wipe the crusted blood off him so that she could finally put the plasters on him properly when she suddenly felt his hand on hers, almost carefully he held her hand and she saw that his gaze was probably on her the whole time.

He held her hand not out of pain but out of affection, ,,Martin I-" she wanted to say something as they slowly got closer but the words were forgotten when she suddenly felt his lips on hers, he overcame the last moments between them and it felt like something had finally opened up between them.

It was as if this around between them, the looks, the touches had finally become worth something, ,,Finally" she murmured between kisses as she felt his hands on her body Martin seemed almost overwhelmed as he seemed too overwhelmed to finally have her, to finally be able to pursue his love heard the almost elated sigh of relief at her approval.

He had never looked sweeter, his eyes full of love and devotion, his hands on her, ,,May I?" he asked almost shyly as his hands were about to take off her clothes, smiling as she put her hands on his cheeks and gave him a gentle kiss, stroking his injury for a moment before she lay down on his bed and gave him permission.

Martin did not tear her clothes from her but rather carefully for every piece he took from her he kissed her skin caressing her and seemed to love every sound she made as if she was the most beautiful thing that had ever happened to him, he was unlike anything she had ever had.

He loved her he loved her like she was his everything with every kiss, with every touch and with every sound she made out of lust he only seemed to love her more as if he was grateful to her, as if she alone kept him alive.

She felt his kisses leave her torso and kiss up her legs, his fingers almost cautiously touching her centre, unsure if he was even good enough, ,,Mhh do-you do well," she said slightly breathlessly, straightening up for a moment to stroke his head, seeing him nuzzle his head against her hand, kissing her fingers, ,,I promise," came the muffled reply from him as she leaned back, caught by the soft mattress and blanket.

He planted a few last kisses on the inside of her thigh before she felt his fingers brush over the bundle of nerves, the first relaxed, pleasurable sounds of her lips leaving the pleasure of his previous touches, the kisses leaving marks from her neck, to her breasts, which he caressed even more gently, to her stomach and legs.

Her fingers clung to the bedspread as she felt his warm tongue on her fingers and he slowly began to make love to her physically, still a little insecure.

But with every sound she made, her fingers from the bed cover first clinging to his shirt, scratching his shoulders and burying themselves in his hair, she also heard the grunt as she pulled too hard on his black hair.

A noise she didn't know if it was too much pain or something else as she was beginning to understand why he was fighting with others in his car at night.

At first, wanting to let go of him in her mind, she only heard Markus say, ,,Go ah-on…please" as he let go of her and looked at her, his bright eyes filled with the veil of lust that had settled on hers, nodding faintly, barely perceptible but understandable as he disappeared between her thighs again and her fingers in his dark hair.

With each lick, each further sensitive electrifying shudder of her body through his caresses, she not only came closer to her high but elicited more and more moans from him, the pain as she held on to him pulling at his strands, tousling his black hair and using him for her pleasure as he wanted, he seemed to give her more and more.

He seemed to want to give her so much more from the start, unable to express his love in any other way than to love her so much that he would give her anything to show her how serious he was.

As she continued to surrender to him with each slight rise of her body as she was caught by the pillows and the mattress, the clutching in his hair, the muffled moans that escaped him, the tingling in her continued to increase, ,,Ma-Martin", she eventually burst out breathlessly, barely able to say anything right as she lost herself in his love and lust.

His breath came hotly towards her as he entangled her in one last kiss as his fingers slid in and out of her one last time, the taste of love and herself she could feel as she writhed against him, her moans mingling with his sighs as her climax was his pain and watching her melt beneath him.

Eyes closed, her chest rising and falling, she realised that the matzo was threatening to lighten as if he wanted to leave, ,,I'll…wait outside," she heard his soft voice, saw that he was licking his lips, reddening his cheeks at this obscene act as if he hadn't just seconds before pressed her completely naked against me and licked her centre.

She moved her fingers slightly, searching for his hand, ,,Please stay with me, Martin," she said, her voice slightly more composed as she pulled the blanket over him with some effort and stroked his cracked knuckles, which were little more than coloured spots.

It took the black-haired man a moment before he almost smiled a little and lay with her, the two of them looking at each other as she placed his hand on her hip, telling him that it was all right as he held her and she could finally close her eyes in peace as she felt his arms around her and kissed him peacefully as she fell asleep with a ,,Thank you…sleep well my heart" from him before her tired mind drifted off into a peaceful relaxed but above all pleasurable sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@dixie-elocin , @pierrotlu , @youre-gonna-see-a-lot-of-me , @paloman18 , @reylatargaryen , @fan-goddess

[sirfrogsworth]

Adventures in Cooling

The 5-star rated HVAC repair service I used kind of depressed me.

It was almost... too good?

Like, they offer 24/7 service. They have a text message system that lets you know when the tech is coming. Every tech has their own custom van that serves as a giant advertisement. The entire process is documented with a tablet computer. Every serial number and model number must be photographed. He has to follow a diagnostic checklist. And an upsell checklist. And a repair checklist. He had so many checklists that at one point he pulled a card out of his wallet to make sure he didn't forget one of the steps. He had a poorly memorized speech for every upsell. You could tell he didn't have "his" tools, but the company's tools that he borrowed.

None of this was "bad" as far as a workflow. The service was flawless and nothing was forgotten. But you could tell that every detail was micromanaged and if the tech didn't follow the procedures to the letter, he would probably get some kind of demerit.

I felt sorry for my tech. He was in his 60s and clearly had a severe chronic knee injury. He walked slower than I do. He was quite monosyllabic and difficult to make conversation with. Not unpleasant, just not great at communicating.

At one point I asked him if I was a good candidate for a heat pump and he was like, "Everyone is."

End of advice.

Oh, and the uniform.

The uniform was very silly.

Every square inch of his shirt was meant to assure people they have a qualified technician. The one sleeve listed his certifications from some Alphabet Association that certifies such things. And then the other sleeve made sure to let me know my technician was drug tested and background checked.

The entire visit I kept trying to imagine how being stoned might negatively affect HVAC repair. I mean, if he was on a little cocaine perhaps we could have wrapped things up 30 minutes sooner. Marijuana might have helped him communicate. Opioids could make his knee feel better. I don't think shrooms would have been a good idea. If he hallucinated an angry fan monster in my A/C unit that could have been really awkward.

He was a terrible salesman—but for some reason, I fell for every upsell. Actually, I sold all of the upsells to myself in my head. I got a new filter and had him install it because I worried I would forget or I would install it improperly (not really possible, you just stick it in). But for the price I paid I could have bought 6 years worth of filters.

I just wanted everything sorted. I am so stressed and do not have the bandwidth to deal with A/C troubles. So I just said "yes" to everything. But the price kept inflating as we went along and every time it inflated he required a signature on his tablet.

This repair business had been corporatized to death and it made me miss all of my dad's friends from the old days who he would ask for favors. He always "knew a guy." He would trade car repairs for discounts on things we needed around the house. And they all worked for themselves and had their own tools and their own shitty truck and they all said, "There's your problem!" with the same masculine affect.

Their uniform was a flannel shirt and jeans and I bet some of them were high as fuck.

And this elderly gentlemen with the bum knee kept checking his checklist to make sure he checked every check because he feared managerial discipline.

He got to the sales pitch for the fluorescent dye. He was like, "Do you want this? You don't have to buy it." And I started selling it to myself in my head despite his assurance it wasn't really necessary. I worried if I had a big leak and I don't discover it until the middle of July, I would regret saying no in this moment. But then I realized he hated the dye injection process. And his poor salesmanship was mostly him not wanting his hands to be fucking radioactive yellow for the rest of the day. He tried wearing gloves to avoid it, but he still ended up with yellow hands and grumbled, "I really hate this stuff." Which was one of the few unrehearsed things he said to me the entire time.

Once the checklist was complete and the house was already starting to cool, he had one final sales pitch for me. He asked that I give his company a 5-star review and to make sure I mention his name. He told me that in July all of the techs with the most 5-star reviews will have their names put in a hat. And "the boss" will give one lucky employee a free vacation.

This vacation thing sounded like such a manipulation. And I'm sure "the boss" has instructed his techs to tell this tale of the free vacation so customers will be like, "Well, shit. I don't want this poor old guy with the shitty knee to miss out on that."

And it was then I realized just how this company got so many 5-star reviews.

Diabolical.

But the good news... my house is cold as heck.

And I keep shivering because I can't figure out the perfect setting on my thermostat. I guess I was used to the inefficiency and I will have to recalibrate.

[frostyblustar]

Self-Indulgent Klance Fluff I wrote on a whim:

Keith had never really understood what was going on in his own head. People would ask him how he was feeling, and he never knew how to respond. Most of the time a ‘I don’t know’ would pass from his lips and that would be the end of it.

One of the worst unidentifiable emotions was around Lance. The man never failed to make Keith feel confused, and he didn’t even know why.

The castle ship was cold, and so was Keith. Despite his temper, which he was well aware of, he usually felt colder than most. During the night, the blankets he had didn’t actually do much to stave off the temperatures, and his own body heat didn’t do much.

When he did fall asleep, he would be greeted with nightmares. Fire, Galra, the amazing time that was his childhood. It pissed him off. Why couldn’t he just sleep like the others? Lance, for example, slept like a rock all the time!

He needed to redirect his anger, so to the training deck he went. It was sleeping time in the castle, but not for him or the machines that operated training. He gutted training bots and sparred like he was meant for it. Maybe he was, he had found out he was galra recently, after all.

Keith was just about to slice through another bot when Lance came into the deck, dressed in a plain white t-shirt and blue shorts. Lance seemed surprised, “I heard banging but I assumed it was Pidge working on something late again. Why are you training this early??”

Panting a little, Keith swapped his sword to his other hand. “End training sequence!” The bot powered down just as it was about to take a swing at Keith. “Just uh- Couldn’t sleep.” He wanted to be honest. Lance and him were part of a team, being on the same page was important. If Lance asked, Keith would likely tell him anything. With some reluctance of course, and maybe lacking in details.

“Uh huh… Okay so you’re going back to bed.” Lance said simply as he yawned and took Keith’s wrist. Shock caused him to drop his sword, which turned into a bayard as it fell from his grip.

Keith wrinkled his nose, agitation was likely evident on his face. He hoped it was. “You can’t tell me what to do, Lance.”

His protests went unheard it seems, because Lance just proceeded to start dragging him out of the training deck. Excuse him for this, but Keith did not expect Lance to be as strong as he was. He had to gather up a lot of strength just to wretch away, and even then Lance caught onto his shirt and pulled him forwards again.

Maybe it was from lack of sleep that Lance was able to pull him into the hallway, but Keith kept protesting. “Dude! If we’re going to defeat Zarkon I need to train!”

“You can do that in the morning with us. You need sleep Keith, I notice how tired you can be in the mornings. I never knew you did-“ Lance gestured over at the training deck’s doors. “-This.”

Keith rolled his eyes, “I don’t control my sleep. It’s too difficult and this palace is so fucking cold.” He attempted to cross his arms but his fellow paladin had a firm grip on one.

Lance went quiet for a moment, “Wait, what blankets are you using?” He looked puzzled, which just confused Keith too.

His gaze went to the floor. Lance was wearing Sonic slippers, classic. “Uhh, the ones I was given? What else?”

“Holy crow- Did you not ask for more?? Keith- Just c’mon, you’re about to see what a dumbass you are.”

He was guided down the hallway, towards their rooms. Keith expected them to stop at his door, but they kept going. “Wait- Where are we going??”

“Patience, Keith.” They stopped in front of Lance’s room, and Lance unlocked it silently. Inside was a room very similar to his, but a few key differences were there. There was a gaming system in the corner, and multiple pillows on the bed. Alongside the pillows was a thick blue blanket.

“You didn’t even ask, man! I asked after like, two nights! They got me one of these!” Lance dramatically thumped a hand on the blanket like a car salesman. “I would tell you to go ask, but everyone’s asleep. I could give you mine..?”

Keith shook his head no, though a warm pleasant feeling stirred inside of him. “No. It’s yours.” He had an eyebrow raised at him before his arm was grabbed again and he was tugged to the bed. His feet tripped and he landed face first on the bed with a small omph.

He picked up his face from the bed and glared up at Lance. “What the hell?”

Lance flung a pillow at Keith’s front, and Keith caught it. Damn instincts. The man smiled down at him, “You can sleep here.” Keith fake-gagged.

“I didn’t want to take your blanket, and I ain’t taking your bed.” He wasn’t fond of invading other people’s spaces like that, it was part of his moral code not to. That applied to beds, especially. Lance’s bed felt cursed to be on, it was giving him complex emotions he couldn’t comprehend.

The bed’s owner rolled his eyes and sat down on the bed, taking his Sonic slippers off. “You aren’t taking. If you’re so bothered by that, we could share.” Keith’s face flushed as Lance laughed, “C’mon man, you got socks on. It’s not that intimate to sleep on the same bed.”

“Lance. If I wasn’t so tired right now, I’d be beating you up.”

Lance picked up the blanket, pulling at it while Keith rolled off. He was about to express his annoyance when the blanket was thrown over him, and Lance slid in underneath it too. “Body heat probably helps too, right?”

Keith stayed quiet, trying to comprehend what the fuck just happened. Keith had been dragged to this bed, no, Lance’s bed, and now they were laying next to each other. Lance seemed to be taking this very casually though, picking under his nails and then turning on his side to train his gaze on Keith.

“Hey, if you’re uncomfortable the blanket offer is still on the table. I just know for a fact you are struggling to sleep, and I need you ready for training tomorrow. We have a bet going on who will survive the longest during practice and I betted on you lasting the longest.”

Of course. This wasn’t an intimate thing, this was Lance worrying about Keith being tired during training! What else could he think? Keith felt so stupid. “Yeah. Okay.”

“Hey Keith?”

“Yeah, Lance? Did you bring me here to sleep or talk?”

He was starting to get annoyed, who gave Lance the right to toy with his feelings like this? There was already enough on his plate with the war without relationship drama coming in to stir things up. One-sided relationship drama, he believed.

“Sleep but… I need to tell you something.”

Keith didn’t know what to expect, and he was curious on what Lance could possibly tell him about. Maybe it was another bet or something. “Shoot.”

“I think you’re really amazing.” If THAT was a bet, he would kill whoever set it up. He pulled the thick blue blanket that was over them up to his face, covering half of it.

“..What?” Lance hummed and then chuckled, bringing a hand up to touch Keith’s cheek. His blue eyes were sleepy, and his eyelids were fluttering a little.

Keith tried to find anything else to say, but his mind couldn’t work with Lance’s hand on his cheek like this. When the hand was lowered, he felt like he could finally speak. Then Lance opened his mouth again, and he shut his own mouth down.

“I said you’re amazing, that’s all. I’m so glad you’re with me in space..” Then he was asleep, like a rock. A very lovable, pretty rock.

[billy-royalton]

okay fine fine i'll take the silly karate show seriously for a second.

i have spent most of the day talking about what i liked about it because, well, there was a lot i did like. remember, the bar wasn't just on the floor. it was buried in mariana's trench. but to say it exceeded my expectations is still an understatement. i really did like it.

putting this under a cut. spoiler warning obv. (also me talking in stream of consciousness.)

as for criticisms, yeah i have some. the first being the same one everyone else has: there were almost no johnny & robby moments. robby beats miguel for captain and johnny chooses to comfort miguel for his loss. he gives them both the exact same speech before they fight. literally word for word. now, sure, we can imagine their relationship is still pretty fraught but this would have been a good opportunity for johnny to show how proud he is of robby and instead we got...nothing. huh. okay then.

the next would be tory. i cannot fucking fathom why they set up this friendship between sam and tory and everyone only for NONE OF HER FRIENDS to comfort her or go to her when her fucking mom dies. (on a positive note, that episode won the whole season for me. more on that later.) obviously the idea is to set up tory running straight into kreese's arms but also we could have had that set up and still shown some fucking sympathy for her. (another positive: peyton list can act her ass off.) it felt out of character for all of them. sam spends all of the third episode befriending tory. they have that million minute hug. what do you mean sam didn't run after her and instead just accepted her captain position?

also. samtory. i kinda wish they dragged it out just a little longer. especially considering what transpires in ep. 5 (or doesn't?)

devon and kenny. what devon did to kenny was fucked up and just. wow not okay. i didn't like it. i didn't find it funny. again, it's a set up for conflict between kenny and anthony but 1. is that really necessary at this point? and 2. why THAT? it was cruel and unnecessary. devon trained for like 6 weeks she's not as good as the others use that as a character development tool instead of her cheating to win. i liked devon when she was introduced. i don't know if i like her at all now. she came off as petulant and entitled and it left me feeling so disappointed in her.

and the miyagi secret. look, i think it's ridiculous that they added this plotline in the first place but besides that, what exactly did we learn? he may have robbed a guy and he was a boxer? and he fought in the sekai talkai? (that part might be intersting let's see where that goes.) it just didn't really land for me personally. we could probably do without it entirely and the season wouldn't change.

okay some positives now. guess what they're almost all about johnny i'm not even sorry if you're following me you should be expecting this from me.

from the fucking beginning we get to see some actual growth from him. the whole naming the dojo thing in previous seasons would have been the cause for the dojo divorce but johnny and daniel both handled it so well and so mature i could cry.

the fact that they made him a car salesman and not like a mechanic or a janitor was also great. i feel like this season they really gave johnny some positive pride in himself. the way he talks about eagle fang and how he built it himself. how he learns from chozen when they go house hunting. and him being a GOOD car salesman not just pretending to do it for laughs. i loved that. i loved it so fucking much. that's what i want to see going forward. to that end, they finally eased up on the "johnny is a moron" shtick. thank god. because he's actually not a moron, he's not a complete idiot he has thoughtful ideas and can create lesson plans that have deeper meanings and all of that is innate in his character and should be played up more rather than "here's the himbo from the 80s who doesn't know what pandora's box is or how public parks work."

episode 5 really nailed it for me. tory's grief is palpable. her fighting through it literally is beautiful to me. and yes, YES, it was the right thing to do to stop the fight okay i'm not saying they shouldn't have. but what we get out of that is a real and emotional and RAW fight between daniel and johnny. not about fighting styles or who has the better dojo. they are both coming at this situation from their own trauma and past and johnny explains that (bonus points for the laura mention THANK YOU WRITERS) and daniel isn't hearing him so he goes for the jugular and daniel reacts in the MOST DANIEL LARUSSO WAY I HAVE SEEN SINCE SEASON 3. he punches johnny right there and doesn't hold back even if you can see the regret on his face a moment later. and johnny -- the GROWTH is in the way he doesn't react. he doesn't punch back. it's a real fucking moment for the two of them. we aren't talking about defense vs. offense. we're talking about GRIEF and all of johnny's bottled rage about feeling sidelined by daniel this whole time (which has been sort of daniel's default stage for the last few seasons) comes spilling over the top and it was such a good moment of catharsis i will be thinking about it forever.

there were other things i liked: johnny leaning into his girl dad-ness, the fights (always the fights!!), the return of shawn, sleeveless gi my beloved, johnny prom king confirmation (never ever getting over it). but these were the stand out moments for me on my first watch.

and look. these were the first FIVE of FIFTEEN episodes for this season. a lot of y'all are acting like this is the whole thing when this is literally just the beginning. so i understand what you're saying about what the show lacked but it's not like they're ending it here. we have ten more episodes to go let's hope they continue the trajectory they're on in the next drop.

TL/DR: I LIKED IT A LOT.

[megidonitram]

Everyone's Running From Something (ch. 4)

A Baldur's Gate 3 University Professor AU

Rating: M

Quick Summary: Astarion and Gale are two University English professors precariously mentoring a troubled 19-year-old and falling in love.

💖Main Pairing : BloodWeave,(Astarion/Gale) 💕Side Pairings: Shadowheart/Nocturne, Karlach/Dammon, Wyll/The Dark Urge, Tav/Tav 💔Past Pairings: Gale/Mystra, Astarion/Sebastian, Astarion/Tav

<=Previous Chapter | Master List | Ao3 | Next Chapter =>

**Please see Master List Entry for Full Content Warnings**

⏰Chapter Warning⏰ None

The all-hands meeting for the beginning of the semester went the same way every all-hands meeting at the beginning of semesters go. Every professor and TA in a humanities field got squeezed into a conference room that wasn’t quite big enough, had a powered sugar donut or a couple cubes of assorted melon with half a Styrofoam cup of burnt coffee, and listened to the departmental dean give an un-rousing speech about being on the same page with the other departments. Then he talked at nauseam about school policies and ran a quick training session over a new time-tracking software that would be implemented in 3 weeks’ time.

Gale scribbled down notes on a big yellow legal pad and tried to ignore Jen and Astarion, making faces at each other as he wrote. He’d been in academia long enough to know they’d both be crying to him in a few weeks when they messed up their timecards.

As the meeting drew to a close, a dapper man with slicked-back chestnut hair and a car salesman smile stepped into the room. Astarion went stiff like a cat puffing up to defend itself. The dapper man just gave him a plasticky, knowing smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

The dean perked up a bit as he noticed the man lingering in the back of the room. “Raphael, what a pleasant surprise! I had no idea you would be joining us,” he exclaimed, “We were just finishing up. Are there any words of wisdom you’d like to impart to our humanities faculty?”

“Oh, nothing so important,” Raphael said, and suddenly Gale understood why Astarion was so on edge. Everything about the man oozed with a disingenuous charm that made Gale’s hair stand on end. “I just realized I forgot to send out a notice about the upcoming donor gala the next coming Friday. I realized you were all in a meeting right now, so I thought I’d pop in and remind you in person.”

Raphael’s eyes landed directly on Astarion as he spoke his next sentence. “There is a reasonable expectation that faculty attend these events.” Out of the corner of his eye, Gale saw Astarion’s expression go steely. “After all, we want to show up and show out for the people who allow us to do so much.”

“Of Course!” The dean chirped. “I know I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

The meeting adjourned, and Astarion immediately made a break for the door. Gale hurriedly gathered his things in one arm, instinctually following after the only person in the room he really knew, like a baby duck.

Raphael stepped into Astarion’s path before he could get out of the meeting room. “Ah, we meet again, Dr. Ancunín!” Raphael’s voice dripped with sugary contempt. “I will see you at the donor gala, won’t I?”

“Perhaps. Are you thinking about calling in that favor I owe you?” Astarion’s voice was clipped, his face unnervingly blank.

“I think I’d like to wait on that a little longer, but I would like you there in case I change my mind.” Before Astarion could respond, Raphael’s gaze slid off him and onto- “Dr. Dekarios! Wonderful to see you. Are you settling in well?” He reached out a hand to him.

Gale stuffed his legal pad into his work so he could shake Raphael’s hand. “Exceptionally well!” he replied. “Everyone’s done their utmost to make me feel very welcome!”

“Oh, you don’t have to fib on your new colleagues’ account, Dr. Dekarios. I’m more than familiar with how surly certain members of the English department can get.” Raphael laughed congenially, but Astarion shot him a poisonous look.

“I’m not lying to you, sir,” Gale replied. “Astarion’s been nothing but professional.”

“Well, perhaps he’s going a bit soft.” There was a flash of something dangerous behind his eyes. He turned to Astarion. “I shall see you next Friday.” It was a command more than a farewell, but he walked away all the same.

Astarion muttered under his breath. Gale didn’t catch what he said but could make an educated guess. Astarion exhaled a deep breath like he was equalizing pressure.

He turned to Gale and said, “Thank you.”

Gale blinked. “Of course.”

Astarion opened his mouth to say something else, but the words couldn’t or wouldn’t form.

Shadowheart stepped in between them, too concerned with responding to a text message to notice the weird tension. “Karlach wants to get drinks.” She said. “She got stuck in traffic and doesn’t want to drive all the way down here for nothing.”

“Roveer’s?” Astarion asked, a very weary resignation in his voice.

“Yes, probably.”

“Nothing like running into your students at a sports bar a week before classes start…” Astarion grumbled. “Fine. Let me finish here, and I’ll meet you there in, oh… 15 minutes.” He turned to Gale. “Are you coming?”

“To the office?”

Astarion gave him a perplexed look. “To the bar.” He clarified. “You should take the opportunity to meet Karlach.”

Gale could feel himself going bright red as Shadowheart snickered. “Right. Yes. I would love to.” He replied.

“I’ll let Karlach know you’re coming. She’ll be thrilled.” Shadowheart replied, giving Gale a warm smile. “I’ll go lock up. See you in a bit.”

“Come on then.” Astarion replied, nodding for Gale to follow him.

***

The all-hand meeting was on the third floor, so by the time they’d returned to the basement and back up a floor to leave, Gale was starting to fear his knees wouldn’t survive the week- let alone the semester. “There has to be an elevator in this building.” Gale huffed and puffed as he hoofed it up the last flight of stairs. He didn’t want his new colleague’s first impression of him to be of him on his hands and knees wheezing. “I can’t take much more of this…”

“There is, but personally I don’t like chancing it unless I really don’t want to be in a meeting.” Astarion slowed to a stop at the top of the stairs to wait for him. He didn’t seem any worse for wear, but he also seemed much trimmer than Gale was- or at the very least, his shirt accentuated the pleasing nip of his waist. Gale wondered if Astarion was a swimmer. “A history adjunct got stuck in it overnight a few years past, and it still reeks a little bit when it gets hot enough.”

Gale laughed, but Astarion very pointedly did not.

The conversation lulled a little bit.

“Do you mind if I ask you something?” Gale asked.

“That entirely depends on what you want to ask.” Astarion stepped into the hallway, taking a moment to slip into his grey wool peacoat before they ventured outside.

“Raphael, is he always…”

“Such an ass?” Astarion finished his thought. Gale wouldn’t have used such a strong word, but Astarion had gotten the spirit of the question right, at least. “He’s usually much worse.”

“Oh?”

“He’s a glorified middleman with too much power and time on his hands.” Astarion scoffed. “He enjoys putting things in people’s way and watching them try to wriggle their way out of problems he created. My advice is to deal with him as little as possible.”

“Is he who you went to talk to earlier?”

Astarion gave him a poisonous look that only confirmed Gale’s suspicion.

They walked across campus in uneasy silence. The bitterly cold wind whipped and whistled, tossing the last remnants of fall leaves across the concourse. The few student residents who’d gotten in that morning had either decided to hold up in their rooms or were enjoying their free time in more exciting corners of town. Gale found himself wondering what Xenia was doing... He hoped she wasn’t all alone in an empty dorm.

“Does Xenia have many friends?” Gale asked as they approached a crosswalk leading to the block of shops across from campus.

“Hm?” Astarion tapped the pedestrian-call button, which commanded them to ‘wait!’ in a mechanical voice. “I think she probably has more friends than she realizes she does. Kids like her tend to think they’re alone in everything.”

“Poor kid… Seems like she’s been through enough.” Gale sighed. There was something heartbreaking in the phrase ‘kids like her.’ It was sad to think that there were more 19-year-olds out there carrying emotional burdens far too heavy for their age- sadder still to think that if there weren’t, then Xenia would be alone.

“She’ll figure herself out eventually. She’s not like…” Astarion paused, seemingly a little shocked by what he was about to say. He leveled a wary glance at Gale. “She’s not a quitter, I mean.”  

“I’m sure she’s not. I just hope she doesn’t run herself ragged.” The walk light flashed, and they hurried across the street.

***

They were comedically out of place in Roveer’s Roadhouse. A group of grown adults in Oxford dress crowding around a sticky Bud-Lit branded high top surrounded by a bevy of flatscreen monitors playing every sports broadcast under the sun. Shadowheart was already nursing a syrupy cocktail out of a chipped margarita glass.

An extremely tall woman with a red tipped mohawk and smiling eyes bounded over to Gale and clapped a firmly friendly hand on his shoulder. “You’re the new Adjunct, I take it?” She asked. “I’m Karlach, Professor Cliffgate, if you’re nasty.”

“Gale Dekarios.” He reached out to shake her hand. She fist-bumped him instead, and Gale got a glimpse of a nasty burn scar peeking out from the sleeve of her jacket. “It’s a pleasure!”

“Aw, I have a great-aunt named Gale!” Karlach replied.

“I get that a lot…” Gale sighed. “I like your hair!”

“Thanks!” Karlach tussled her own hair. “Told my kiddos they could pick what color I dyed it if they all passed their benchmarks.”

“Does Balduran give benchmarks?”

“Oh, no. Teaching university is my side gig,” Karlach replied. “I’m actually a full-time middle school teacher.”

A spindly girl with bleach-blonde hair pulled into space buns sidled up to the table, clutching a notepad. “Can I take your order?” She seemed quite put upon being asked to do actual work on a slow day.

“Vodka Soda,” Astarion replied, holding his ID out to the server.

She took it and dropped it in her apron, jotted something down on her notepad, and turned to Gale with an expectant look.

“I’ll, uh, take a Corona,” Gale replied. He’d never ordered a Corona in his life, but it seemed like an acceptable ‘getting drinks with colleagues’ kind of an order.

The server stood there staring at him a moment long before she asked, “ID?”

“Oh, um…” Gale patted for his wallet and realized he left it in his desk drawer. “I didn’t realize I would need it…”

“You didn’t realize you’d need an ID at a college bar?” Astarion asked dryly as he turned to the server. “Just put it on my tab.”

The server nodded and walked away without asking if they needed anything else.

“Wow Gale, just one day on the job, and you’re already bumming free drinks off the department chair.” Shadowheart teased. She took a sip of her drink crinkling her nose at the taste.

Gale flustered. “I-I was going to pay with my phone, I swear! I wasn’t planning this.”

“Relax. We’re not so underpaid that I can’t afford to buy you one beer.” Astarion rolled his eyes. “You can return the favor when you get your first paycheck.”

Gale blushed. “Alright.”

The server brought them their drinks without another word, then plopped down at the end of the bar to scroll on her phone. Gale pushed the lime through the neck of his beer bottle and watched it fizz as it sank to the bottom of the dubiously golden liquid.

“So, did I miss anything important at the all-hands?” Karlach asked idly, stirring her bourbon and coke.

“You know you didn’t,” Shadowheart replied. “We’re changing timecard systems, and Raphael and Astarion are in another one of their weird power struggles-there, I saved you an hour and a half.”

Karlach’s eyes lit up, and she turned towards Astarion. “Before the semester even starts?” There was a conspiratorial glee in her voice. “What the fuck could he have possibly done this time?”

“Why spoil the mood by ruminating on that rat bastard?” Astarion said. He picked the lemon slice out of his drink and laid it on a napkin. “I’ll tell you later.”

“Fair.” Karlach shrugged. She turned back to Gale and fixed him with a warm smile. “So, Gale, what brings you to the wonderful world of higher education?”

Gale had thought a lot about what he would tell people when they asked him why he wanted to teach college. He’d written little speeches in the shower about the joys of teaching language and the satisfaction of helping students reach their goal, but sitting in a group of other English professors, that suddenly all felt very trite.

“I was a public librarian, but I had to step away from my last position when I got divorced.” He admitted. “I found a job at a community college teaching database management, and I realized I’d just always missed teaching.” He took a long pull of his beer. The sour of the lime battled with the bitterness of the beer on his tongue.

“Library science might be a harder industry to break into than academia. It must have been tough to leave that behind.” Astarion mused.

“I do miss it terribly sometimes… but my ex helped me get into graduate school and got me my first library job. If I stayed, I would never be able to make anything that was truly mine.” Gale sighed. He could see the wheels spinning in Shadowheart’s head as she tried to figure out his age.

“You talk like you’re as old as this bag of bone,” Karlach pointed a thumb at Astarion, who glared daggers at her. “But there’s no way you’re that old.”

“I’m 35.” Gale clarified.

“That’s a little bit older than I thought, but still nowhere near as old as Astarion,” Shadowheart said.

“You are barely two years younger than me.” Astarion snapped.

“Barely a decade older than Gale, too.” Shadowheart shot back.

Astarion rolled his eyes and muttered something into his drink. “Did you go to get your master’s straight out of undergrad?” he asked.

“Yes, why?”

Astarion shrugged. “That’s just quite young to be with someone that well-established in their field.”

“Oh, we didn’t get together until I graduated.” That wasn’t entirely true. They didn’t get together publicly until he graduated. He didn’t know why he was still defending Mystra. It wasn’t like any of his new colleagues would ever meet her.

“I wasn’t trying to imply anything…” Astarion lied.

“Of course not.”

They both took a sip of their drink, holding awkward eye contact.

“Well, here’s to making something for yourself then,” Shadowheart said, holding her drink out to Gale for a cheers.

Gale clinked the neck of his beer bottle against her glass. “I’ll drink to that.”

[themultifandomgal]

Matt- Dating Him

"Here she is" Herrmann shout smiling at me as I make my way into the firehouse

"Hi Herrmann"

"What are you doing here?" Matt asks walking over to me

"Well I don't start my shift till this evening so I thought I'd give you guys a break and cook for you"

"Yes!" Herrmann shouts fist bumping the air making me chuckle. Matt walks over to me and kisses my lips

"You don't have to you know?"

"I know, but you guys have quickly become my family. So no arguments" I walk passed Matt and head into the kitchen area opening up the cupboards to see what I have to work with

"The best food is at the top" Kelly says

"Thanks" I reply climbing up the counter top

"What are you doing YN? You'll fall and hurt yourself"

"How do you think I reach my top cupboards?" I laugh at Matts overprotectiveness

"Leave her be. If she falls then she's got the best paramedics and ambo in Chicago" Gabby says

"Thank you Gabby. Now, I think I can make us all a Mac and cheese, I can add some spice into it if you'd like or some bacon?"

"Bacon!" Cruze shouts making me laugh just as the house alarm goes off

"Duty calls" Matt says as I get down off the counters

"Be safe. I'll have food done for when you get back" I kiss Matts lips and they leave.

While they're gone I make their food, but of course by the time they get back the food is cold

"Hey I've got to head off to Med, but food will be ok to reheat" I everyone

"Thank you YN. Kelly says giving me a hug"

"Not a problem"

"Come on I'll drop you off" Matt places an arm around my shoulder and leads me out. We get into his car, his hand on my knee"

"I feel stupid that you keep driving me to work"

"Don't feel stupid. You've got anxiety about driving. When your ready I'll help you. Sit in the car with you while you drive around

"You'd do that?"

"Of course I would. Your my girlfriend" his hand gives my knee a little squeeze

"So I might be looking at a new car on the weekend"

"Really?" He glances at mw before his eyes go back on the road

"Yeah"

"You want me to come with you?"

"Please"

"Text me what time you want to leave on what day"

"I will. Thank you"

The weekend rolls around and Matt drives me to look at the new car

"What do you think?" I ask for Matts perspective as we look at a white Mini

"It's nice what about you? What do you think?"

"I like it, I'm just scared about getting in it"

"You don't have to do this yet YN"

"Matt if I don't do this now then I'm never going to do it. I can't rely on you all the time" I turn to look at my boyfriend

"Tell you what. I'll give it a test drive with you, if you like it then you get it, put me on the insurance. Then when it's ready to be picked up I'll have Severide bring me here I'll drive it to yours. Then we can go ride around"

"You'd do that?"

"Of course I would because I love you" that's the first time he's said those words to me

"You love me?" I ask shocked

"Yes. I do"

"I love you too" I lean up and kiss his lips

"So what do we think?" The salesman asks walking over to Matt and I. I look at Matt for some reassurance. He gives me a nod

"I'll take it"

"Fantastic. Let's go and get all of the paperwork in order"

At the end of the day Matt drives me home

"Do you want to come in?" I ask "may as well stay the night. I have some of your clothes here that are clean so you can change into those tomorrow and I'll wash what your wearing tonight"

"You know, we may as well move in together. We are already spending every night with each other. Also we've both said I love you so we're practically married now" Matt jokes exiting the car

"Would you actually want to move in together?"

"Wouldn't have said anything if I didn't want to"

"Well maybe that's something we can talk about over the next couple of days. Decide if your moving in with me or if I'm moving in with you"

"Why not tonight"

"Because I have other things planned for tonight" I drag Matt into my house and up the stairs towards the bedroom.

[anhed-nia]

I was delighted to learn that there was a crazy-girl Black Swan movie from before BLACK SWAN, and disappointed that it's exactly as mysogynistic, just in a much dumber way. We're all familiar with the John Hughes model of romance, in which girls who reject you just want you to be increasingly persistent and controlling--but there's a sort of kid brother to this framework, that says that when women reject you it's actually because they're literally fucking insane, and they need your help with that. In the movie ETOILE aka BALLET, Jennifer Connelly aka the most beautiful woman in the universe plays a ballerina whose psychotic obsession with Swan Lake interferes with her non-relationship with some little dweeb who decides he's entitled to her. The guy looks and kind of acts like the wormy new wave guy Chuck in RETURN OF THE LIVING DEAD (fig. 1), but in ROTLD that used car salesman suit is a joke so I don't know what the makers of ETOILE think I'm supposed to feel when I look at this asshole (fig. 2). Something positive, apparently. It's funny, in my life I live firmly in the Ugly Girl camp and I have all the usual neuroses about it, but certain situations unlock this protectiveness about beautiful women--case in point, watching this jerk kiss Jennifer Connelly. I mean if he were like Bud Cort or someone with that Funny Valentine quality, who is warm and charming, then it would be fine, but with this low-end cretin it's really like...sir, please back away from Jennifer Connelly. This is not for you.

In this movie Jennifer Connelly is frankly way too good for this guy, and if this were real life, it would make perfect sense that she's polite to him and then gives him the brush-off when he pushes his luck; but of course, in the fantasy world of this movie, the reason she rejects him is that she's fucking possessed or something and she's just waiting for him to rescue her from her feminine irrationality. This is extra funny because the script itself directly references the myth of Apollo and Daphne which is like the original version of this: Daphne just wants to be left alone, but Apollo assumes his advances are desirable no matter what she has to say about it; to get away from him she transforms into a tree, and he's so sad about it that he desecrates her corpse weaves a wreath from her leaves. This is really the ultimate reflection of a man refusing to believe that a particular hot chick really, genuinely doesn't want him, but ETOILE isn't capable of figuring out that subtext, so the guy just forces himself on Jennifer Connelly until she isn't "crazy" anymore. Bonus points for the scene where he repeatedly screams at her to stop dancing, because there's really no bigger threat to romance than a woman's career and personal interests.

I wish I could think of more examples of this trope, I know they're out there, and I did just see another one called FEMME FATALE where Lisa Zane marries Colin Firth and then "mysteriously" leaves him, so he has to go on this whole odyssey to retrieve her. This is a particularly funny example because Firth is mopey and boring and untalented and a bad listener and out of shape and a drag, and Zane is this turbulent sexpot who is making it really obvious that she's not satisfied with him right up to the point that she "strangely" vanishes. Spoilers ahead I guess but the first thing Firth finds out is that she was in some psychotic art film by a militant lesbian who she used to date...and still the spurned husband thinks, nah, it CAN'T be that I'm boring and sappy and self-centered and I ignore her needs, and it ALSO CAN'T be that maybe she secretly prefers girls or is, at the very least, way more sexually exotic than I am. There has to be some OTHER reason I got dumped, something that involves me pursuing this uninterested woman to the ends of the earth and forcing her to admit that she loves only me, forever. And the movie totally agrees with him: There's no moment where Colin Firth realizes that he misread all the evidence, or even that she's EVIL or just not who he thought she was or whatever. Instead what he finds out is that she's literally insane! She's a paranoid schizophrenic whose only valid choices of companion are her dad or, you guessed it, Colin Firth. When I saw this I thought wow, this movie has gone impossibly far out of its way to explain that when a woman rejects you, it's not because you're a dullard and a jerk, it's because she's dangerously crazy. Only an actual lunatic would turn down a catch like YOU.

Anyway I know I was just talking about not being pointlessly mean about movies in public, but all bets are off if the movie manages to say something this insulting. I am now done talking about this and I will leave you with this hilarious thumbnail from a YouTube clip of FEMME FATALE, which pretty well sums up the whole movie.

[cheasegary]

can you please introduce that smug red motherfucker

Gladly. Get ready for an Info Dump

So the general info is hes an oc I made in like 2015 2009-2010 and he's just been in the background up until I revised him like a year or two ago for a story between my best friend and I. His name is Bing bc it was supposed to match the names of Ding/Zing but I kinda model him off Bing Crosby anyway so I'm not changing it. His theme is meant to revolve all around the atomic era/nuclear science - so his sigil is reminiscent of a mushroom cloud, I've drawn him with sunflowers (sunflowers can absorb radioactive material like cesium from dirt) but anyway onto the actual story Basically he's an active scoundrel during Las Vegas's heydays during the atomic era (i.e when they were detonating nuclear bombs for testing and people were watching them from afar like fireworks.) so around 1940-1950 he's an adult. Bing is very much like a used car salesman - he'll go to any length to convince someone to buy something they don't need and is usually successful at doing it. So he made stupid amounts of money selling people radiation cures like iodine pills (which were really just sugar pills) and things like that. He had a 'wife' (in quotes because they were unable to get married due to segregation laws, they still got unofficially 'married' anyway and had a kid.) Long story short he gets involved with the mafia, he flies too close to the sun with his ego and gets in trouble with them, and ends up getting sacked because of it. His wife ends up going into squalor because she didn't have any legal right to his property and he was the (major) breadwinner so as a result within his family there's a sort of disdain because he kinda flung them all into poverty bc he wasn't thinking about the consequences of his actions. He becomes a god via reasons I have yet to address. He says he's the god of war but really he's just conniving and his powers relate to convincing people. The ongoing story now is his granddaughter somehow finds a way to summon him/cross paths with him and they're both unaware they're related. It takes a while for it to hit him that she's his granddaughter and after that point its basically him learning what happened to his family after he died and humbles him (a little, he's still a dick all things considered)

[watching-pictures-move]

Movie Review | Deal of the Century (Friedkin, 1983)

Like everyone else with a Criterion Channel subscription, at the beginning of each month I hop on excitedly to see what’s been added, and today I simply could not believe my eyes. Wow, William Friedkin’s Deal of the Century! The movie that nobody liked when it came out, nobody has since (to my knowledge) tried to reclaim, and is widely considered a career worst for the director. So obviously I’d struck gold. Anyway, on one hand, it’s not hard to see why nobody has tried to reclaim it. It’s a tonal mess and very little of it works. On the other hand, judging from the internet, people seem to love unfunny garbage these days, so you’d think they’d be all over this one. Okay, that sounded mean, and I didn’t actually hate this, but I’m trying to channel the caustic spirit of the movie.

I’ve never really associated Friedkin with comedy, although there are probably scenes throughout his classics where he displays some comic timing. So I wasn’t expecting this to send me rolling. But what’s mostly disappointing about this is the absence of his visual style, which was in strong supply in the movies he made immediately before (Cruising) and after (To Live and Die in L.A.). This is largely drab looking, primarily brownish-gray in colour, so that whatever high tech weaponry is on display rarely wows you. I do think there are a few interesting visual ideas scattered throughout. Friedkin is not oblivious to the phallic dimensions of the weaponry, and in one pretty blunt and maybe insensitive but still funny scene, he has two characters loudly make love against a montage of failed weapon test footage. And there are other times where he’s able to juxtapose them with the characters to more sinister effect, like when he has a wheelchair bound mercenary reminisce fondly about committing war crimes against a wall of automatic weapons, or when he has Gregory Hines express his spiritual despair similarly surrounded by weapons in a warehouse.

That you have both those tones in the same movie demonstrates the problem here, in that the movie doesn’t know how to commit to a tone and ends up halfassing most of its tonal and narrative threads. Hines has to piece together an arc of spiritual transformation through an assortment of very clunky scenes (the ones above, and another where he’s menaced by a racist thug played by Tony Plana who he wards off with a flamethrower ; there's a thread about racism here that doesn't work at all), while Sigourney Weaver has almost nothing to do aside from that lovemaking montage. A few of the supporting players make an impression, like Wallace Shawn as a suicidal defense contractor, but William Marquez as a goofy Latin American general makes you wish Richard Libertini had reprised his shtick from The In-Laws and played this role instead of the relatively thankless one he has.

To the extent that this works, it’s as an SNL star vehicle for Chevy Chase. I’ve seen complaints that Chase is too aloof for the movie, but I think there’s something pretty funny about him applying used car salesman shtick to weapons deals and managing to fail up the international arms trade with nothing but bullshit and experience, to paraphrase a wise man and SNL alumnus. A less cacophonous movie would have made more of the tension between his laid back presence and the scale and stakes of the surrounding material, but he got his share of laughs out of me.

[rose-tea-and-strawberries]

So I see a lot of Yuus that are anime/book/movie characters so I’m going to give my own take on it.

How about a Yuu that’s Roald Dahl’s Matilda Wormwood? She gets transported after the events of the book/movie/musical so she’s just been adopted by Miss Honey after defeating Miss Trunchbull. Like this little primary school girl just appears out of nowhere.

(I haven’t seen the Netflix musical but I my class took a trip to see the musical at the West End back when I was in Year 5)

I know that she loses her powers at the end of the book and musical but in the Danny Devito film she keeps them so I’m going to say she still has her telekinesis but is still unable to do actual ‘Disney’ magic.

She’d probably not like Riddle that much in the beginning since she hates people that use rules and authority to control others and cause them suffering. Maybe Ace’s punishment after stealing the tart would remind her of how Bruce Bogtrotter got punished after he stole and ate the headmistress’ chocolate cake. 

Azul might also remind her of how her sleazy car salesman father would cheat clients to get profit. 

(In the stage musical, she does meet and befriend the mafia so she might know how to deal with them)

Since she’s a child genius, she’s really good at keeping up with the other first years who are like more than double her age. 

Since she grew up with neglectful parents, Crowley’s attitude doesn’t really bother her.

If someone ever wrongs her, you bet that she’s going to use her powers to pull pranks to get back at them.

[liminalpebble]

Sex and Death: Chapter 9, Red

Masterlist link 

Smut, so much smut...mostly smut. Minors DNI

-

Noura unlocked the door to her flat. Magnus gallantly took the grocery bag and held the door open for her while she shuffled inside ahead of him, peeling off her cold weather clothes. As she did, Magnus took it upon himself to start putting the groceries away. When he got near the bottom of the bag, he found a little amulet in the shape of a hand with blue glass eye in the middle and examined it.

He scrunched his pretty face quizzically in a way that Noura found unbearably adorable and asked, “What's this? I saw them hanging over the till,” as he turned the little trinket over in his hands.

She smiled and came over to him, hair mussed from shaking it out of her knit hat. Noura explained, “it's a gift for you. It's called a hamsa. It's supposed to protect you from the 'evil eye' or any other bad luck, I suppose.”

“And does it?” he asked, enthusiastically, as he smoothed out her tussled hair with his fingers.  

Noura chuckled, “Well...I'm a skeptic and an atheist, so I'm probably the wrong person to ask.”

“Then why did you buy it for me?”

She rose on her toes to kiss his cheek. “Because I knew you would find it interesting, and I do love getting that curious reaction out of you. It was worth the 30 kroner.”

Magnus switched his voice, imitating the salesman's tone of a TV commercial. “For less than the price of a cup of coffee...YOU...yes, YOU can be protected from evil. Grab yours today!”. He finished his impression with a wink so cocky it gave her the intrusive desire to both slap his face and kiss him.

Instead she just giggled, and he had to kiss her when she laughed like that. It drew him to her like magnet and it took enormous effort pull himself away once he started tasting her warm soft lips. He reluctantly released her, and turned the small ornament carefully in his large hand. “Shall I hang it on the rear view mirror of the car?”

Noura sighed a little, putting her hand on her hip and leaning against the kitchen counter. “Around here? I'd say not unless you want your windshield broken in. Some folks around here can be...well...hostile.”

Magnus scowled and put a protective arm around her, honest blue eyes searing. “How hostile, Noura? Look, the police know there's Neo-Nazi activity around this part of town. In my opinion, they've been woefully inept about doing anything about it. You being here just isn't sitting right with me...and now the footprints...the angry customer. I don't think this neighborhood is safe for you. I wish you would get out of it.”

“And where exactly would I go?” She asked with an edge of exasperation to her voice, “Magnus, I have no where else to go...neither does Mo...neither does Yasmin. So we help each other here and stick together. Don't you think if we were all able to live somewhere safer we would?”

Magnus blushed and looked to the floor, embarrassed that he hadn't thought of that obvious fact much sooner. What Noura didn't know (but heavily suspected from his posh accent, nice clothes, and expensive education) was that Magnus came from money; the kind of wealth inherited so easily that it makes its more moral recipients ashamed of it. The young detective was this kind of ethical person. He tried, secretly and quietly, to use that money to positive ends; to educate himself, to fund the right things, to act with more understanding and compassion than many of his peers. He tried to stay humble, observant, and sensitive, but the telltale ease and naivete of being born rich seemed to follow him everywhere, especially into situations like this.

He sighed saying, “I'm sorry, Noura. I didn't mean to nag you or insult you or tell you what to do. I'm just afraid for you,” and held her close against his chest. She could feel his breath rolling in and out as he cradled her into himself, kissing the top of her head. His brow furrowed and his heart ached as he held her there thinking, she feels so small in my arms. How do I protect her?

“Hey,” she said very softly, massaging her hand into his curls, “I know you're worried. So am I...but we're doing all we can. We're just resting, not giving up.”

He met her gaze...those deep brown doe eyes he couldn't resist...as his hands moved, blossoming up from her waist, following the curve or her back, the lattice of her spine. As her loose shirt shifted to reveal her shoulder, he took the opportunity to meet it with his lips. As his mouth traveled up to her neck he noticed a silky red strap peaking out tantalizingly, in stark contrast to the drab tee-shirt. He slid his long pointer finger under the strap, sliding it back and forth, feeling the pleasure of satin against his skin. “Oh darling,” he purred out, “And what might this be? Hmm.”

Noura gave a sly little fox's smile and said quietly, “I was just trying to follow your instructions Detective Martinsson. I didn't want to be charged with the crime of neglecting the lingerie drawer.” She pulled his face down, kissing his cheeks, then his neck, before traveling up to run her lips and teeth ever so lightly over his ear. She lapped her small pink tongue against his delicious creamy skin and was rewarded with his rumbling baritone moans of pleasure.

Magnus shivered and grunted, overcome with need for her. He hoisted her by the hips to set her on the counter. She let out a sharp surprised laugh at his sudden enthusiasm. His hands snaked under her shirt as he panted, meeting the hot soft flesh of her stomach and heading north. She gasped and moaned, pulling his broad torso against her and gripping his shoulder as he made quick work of throwing her shirt aside.

“Yes...yes. Please...Magnus,” she purred as his deft fingers hastily freed her of her jeans and socks. He took a step back, drinking in the sight of her perched there in a maroon satin confection of  bra and panties. His reaction mas making her wet; the way he took a step back to admire her, eyes wide, lips parted, chest heaving, high with the heady sight of her.

“Goddd...Noura, you're so beautiful,” he sighed out, cradling her face in his hands as he kissed her deeply, tongues tangling in pleasure. His eyes, lowered as if hypnotized, and he licked his lips when his gaze met her full breasts nestled together tightly, straining against the skimpy garment. He could see her nipples growing hard beneath the the thin fabric and lowered his head to nip at them, slicking the fine material with his wet warm mouth. He freed her breasts, sliding the satin down to reveal her. She reached around to unclasp the bra, but his hand found hers grabbing it tightly.

“No,” he growled, “leave it on.” His fingers found their way under the elastic shoulder straps, this time plucking them against her skin. The surprising little sting sent a thrill through Noura's body as she gasped in surprise.

“Ohhh. Golden Boy,” she purred out, delighted. She slid the straps further down her shoulders for him to reveal more of her cleavage, pressed into a deep cleft by the garment. Entranced, Magnus buried his mouth into the soft valley nipping and licking. “Yes..yes..leave marks. I want you written on my skin.”

He looked up to her, with a smiling but dangerous expression. “Oh pet...I hope you know what you're asking for. I can be...enthusiastic.”

Her dark eyes met his, challenging. “I don't recall asking, Detective.”

His cock ached at her words. He dropped to his knees, pulling her roughly by the calves towards his face. She leaned back, gasping a litany of affirmations, eyes closed in transcendence. The sight of her like this, her lingerie dripping off her body in drapes of burgundy lace, was somehow more dirty, more wanton than if she were wearing nothing at all. There was something irresistible about its only purpose being to beautifully frame the perfect, needy of curves her body.

Enormously pleased, he saw where the fabric of her panties was already soaked for him. He ran the back of his finger up and down her barely-clothed slit, eliciting the most delightfully needy whimper. He mouthed at the soft thick peach of her pussy through the panties, biting lightly at the plump outer lips. He nudged the gusset aside with the long muscle of his tongue as he pulled her closer to his face, reaching deeper into her wetness. She let out a sharp yelp of pleasure then moaned his name as if it were the only word she could remember while he fucked her with his tongue.

His movements and hot heavy breaths were pushing her quickly to an orgasm. “Magnus...I'm...I'm going to...”. Her voice came out cracking, high and breathy.

He moved away from her core, blue eyes piercing her as his glistening lips said, “Don't you dare, sweet girl. Not yet. Can you do that for me...be good?”

Her big sweet eyes looked uncertain and a little nervous. “I...I don't know if I can hold back. I'll try.”

Magnus chuckled. “That's all I'm asking for, my sweet sweet girl. I want to make this earth-shattering.” He kissed her thighs and calf as he moved away from her center, decorating her legs with her own wetness.

She said between gasps, “well....I know...you are a perfectionist.”

He chuckled, then stifled it in mock-seriousness saying, “Stand up, Ms. Harik. Hands against the counter.”

She obeyed and chuckled, saying sarcastically, “is this a strip search, officer? I'm not sure what you think I could possibly be hiding.”

He whispered over her shoulder, settling his chest against her back, “You'd do well to comply, Ms. Harik.” She noticed he had taken his shirt off, and the sensation of his warm hard chest and stomach against her back sent yet another electric jolt through her.

“Bend over. Spread your legs,” he ordered crisply, kicking his foot gently between her ankles to urge her to stand wider. He broke character for just a moment, sweeping her hair away from her ear to ask in a whisper, “Is this okay, darling? If not...”

She turned and kissed him hard to shut him up, biting his lips lightly. She shimmied her ass, in its skimpy underwear, up against his proud erection and said, “I love it, Magnus. Please...give me all of it.”

He gave her the semblance of a pat down, running both hands down her arms, and under, then over her waist, grazing the outside and inside of her legs. When he got to her core, he grabbed it roughly, making her moan. Noura could hear his belt being undone, the fabric dropping, and went weak at the idea of his firm bare ass pumping while his jeans pooled over his powerful thighs. She yelped in surprised response to Magnus pulling her back roughly by the center line of her thong. He ran his fingers up, gathering the fabric in the front so it bunched between her lips in a hot line of friction against her clit and entrance. He tugged again, hard, and a sharp stab of arousal traveled through from where it rubbed and strained against her engorged skin.

He grabbed her hips firmly, and begin grinding the length of his cock along her slit.

“You want it rough, Ms. Harik?”

“Uh huh.”

He released one hip to pull her closer by her thong eliciting a yelp. “A proper answer, Ms. Harik.”

She panted, “Yes...Detective.”

“Good girl. Now beg for it.”

“Please...Please, Magnus. I can't wait anymore.”

In one quick, full thrust he was sheathed in her, filling her up to the hilt as he bucked his hips at and angle, pushing her to tiptoes. He dug his fingers into her hair, lifted it to expose her ear and neck as he caged her with his strong body. “Tsk tsk...I'd prefer 'Detective Martinsson' from you, my dear. Show some respect!” he admonished, lips and teeth meeting her ear, neck, and shoulder as he began slid his cock back and forth gently.

She turned her lethal onyx eyes to him over her shoulder, retorting, “Make me.”

He gritted his jaw and his sweet blue eyes transformed to hard steel. He exhaled a deep, “Ohhhh...darling,” as he snaked his arm around to hold her breasts, “I'll do better than that. I'll make you scream it.”

He bucked hard, pulling at the soaked fabric of the thong where it was now pushed aside to make room for his generous cock. Magnus could hear a tiny rip, but the couldn't let up, pushing harder and fasted egged on by her litany of affirmation. And finally she hissed out, “I'm...coming, Detective.”

He smacked her ass hard. “Mmmm. Come for me, darling. Come all over me.”

She clenched around him and shuddered, moaning and gasping as her head dropped to rest on the cool counter top. His release chased her quickly in fast sloppy thrusts until he spilled, warm and thick inside of her.

Exhausted, they both slide down to the floor, filthy and dripping and utterly spent. Noura shivered at the cold tile against her skin, so Magnus laid on his back, gathering her into his warm arms.

She could feel a breathy chuckle roll through his chest as she laid there and he said, “Just resting, huh?”

She giggled and panted. “Yeah...yeah...just resting.”

Taglist: @peacefulpianist @peaches1958 @icytrickster17 @sired-to-hybrid @mjsthrillernp @acidcasualties @loz-3 @annoyingsweetsstranger @alexakeyloveloki @marcotheflychair @muddyorbs @smolvenger @sweetsigyn @goblingirlsarah @lovelysizzlingbluebird  

[electricgaunt]

Live Blog of Interstitial Infinity #16 - The Baseball Car, Pt. 1:

quick rundown of my blaseball knowledge: back in the height of it, I made little picrew characters for some of the SF lovers players (that got used by a Twitter roleplayer, which was wild, ty to that rper!), and I was just around on the internet at the time so I osmosised some things, but I wouldn't say that I know much about the current state of blaseball lore? ultimately I'm down to just enjoy the interstitial infinity crew reacting excitedly/angrily to a player's name I don't know, like with nan(?) 😄

the idea of baseball larping/baseball cosplay is compelling

rethinking something from my last ep post: the mirror!denizens (not metal!denizens like I said) would want to avoid the mirror car at all costs actually bc they'd get taken in by the cop guys. for some reason I forgot that central thing about s2 of infinity train, whoops 😅

oh no Al and Roxas, buddies,,, good luck in this game

cutee (hyrule homies!)

trish treating jason like a gun salesman/item waypoint

I love Trish's Theory Time

ohh time shit, gotcha, nice (re: winry and al)

emma's announcer voice is extremely good

goddd I'm very excited about everyone I'm hearing 😄 everyone getting to submit characters and play them is so fun

(I'm hoping that the full teams are posted somewhere with their positions (but if not that's okay ofc 👍) will look after listening)

s3 sailor steve yup yup yup

(I actually wrote a little thing way before I listened to this ep, about why I thought steve would be on the train, but was ultimately too embarrassed to post it, for various reasons 😅 excited to see him now 🎉)

suns out guns out winry!

having a teen crush on winry is v real

oh jason and emma (scream TV) woww

yes timeline stuff of which characters could they know already, my favoritee

full-power-allowed baseball!!! let's goo

aww winry and al 😭

backflip respect

luffy refusing the door is very funny, I can see it. he's having fun!!! there's so many weird things on this train to explore and enjoy!!!

susie deltarune is v fun

ahh ending credit music!

baseball y'all!!! it's good!!!