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janus turning roman into his wallet and using him to pay for things. roman feels continuously full from the coins and money, and feels like he's being fingered or stretched open whenever januss fingers dip inside of him

Wallet

Roceit (Roman x Janus) Warnings: inanimate transformation, wallet transformation, fingering, edging, overstimulation, handjobs, premature orgasms

"I want to go out," Janus proclaims, waltzing into the master bedroom where Roman was folding his clothes on the floor, with a laundry basket set to his side. Roman tilts his head up, smiling at Janus as he lines up the sleeves of a dark red shirt and presses the fabric into a flat fold. "Out?" he asks, playfully. "Out where?" "Out shopping," Janus elaborates, bending down to run his hands over Roman's shoulders. "I could use a new shirt or two." "Use? Or want?" Janus grins, and kisses the side of Roman's head. "Neither. Both. Whatever fits your fantasy more." Roman's cheeks go pink. "What fantasy?" "The fantasy of being used just for your money, rich boy," Janus clarifies, and pulls away from Roman entirely, this time to sit back on their bed. "Don't tell me you don't get off on being treated like you're just cash and cards for me to spend. We've had whole sessions revolving around it, love."

Roman stands up too, smiling shyly but blushing wildly as he moves towards Janus. "Suppose we have. Why should the past warrant future usage of my wallet?" That comment has Janus's eyes twinkling in mischief, and he smiles in such a way that Roman just knows he's walked himself into one of Janus's intricate (and sensual) schemes. "Who said I'd be using your wallet?" Janus asks. "You don't have money," Roman counters, as Janus pulls him closer by his collar, and into a soft kiss. Against Roman's lips, Janus muses "well I never said I wouldn't be using your money, just not your wallet." Roman presses another kiss to Janus's mouth, and then blinks his eyes halfway open, mumbling "that doesn't make much sense." And then Janus is pulling away, and pulling his phone out instead. He holds it close to his chest, between himself and Roman, and quickly opens an app. "Have you heard of inanimate transformation?" he asks, while conveniently logging into an app made specifically for transforming (obviously paid for by Roman's card, of course). Roman looks a little confused. "No. What is it?" "You'll love it," Janus assures him, before sitting up and pushing Roman slightly away, so that he's standing far enough for Janus to point his camera at him. He snaps a photo of Roman's body, enters in his height and weight, and then is taken to a list that he scrolls through with intent. He already knows what he wants; he just needs to find it. "What is it?" Roman repeats, sounding a bit more excited at merely watching Janus become so invested in this... thing. And Janus glances up at him. While doing it without explanation would be fun due to Roman's surprise - and the app's failsafe that would reverse all transformation if any discomfort or displeasure is felt - Janus knows Roman's curiosity is intense, and decides he deserves a basic rundown at the very least.

"Inanimate transformation is exactly what it claims to be," Janus vaguely describes, with a sly wink. "You'll he turned into something inanimate - of my choosing, of course - and will be completely at my mercy. Still able to see, think, feel, but unable to talk or move."

Roman flushes, but purses his lips. "That doesn't sound very sensual," he mumbles, which just has Janus laughing outright at him.

"Needy boy," he scolds, which has Roman pouting and moving back towards Janus, who lets Roman kiss at his face with little complaint. "Trust me, doll, you'll enjoy it; I'll make sure of it. Okay?"

"Okay. I trust you."

"Good, good." Janus pushes Roman away, and clicks on the item he desires Roman to be. Amongst more interactive things like fidget cubes or controllers, and more intimate options like underwear and socks, Janus wanted something that had both a use and would be unassuming if he were to fumble with it or carry it around permanently, especially out in public, which is where he wants to go.

And just as he said, he wouldn't be using Roman's wallet to pay for the things he wanted. His money, yes, but not the wallet itself.

No, instead - as he watches the loading bar progress across the screen - he'd be using Roman as his wallet, and he guarantees that each fold of his pristine leather and pockets are going to feel so much pleasure it'll be overwhelming.

Roman feels warmth overtake him as his body tingles, as though all of it is falling asleep simultaneously, his atoms dispersing and condensing until his literal matter has shifted from flesh to fine leather, from a functioning person to just pockets made to hold valuables. It's dizzying, disorienting, and hard to process as Roman's line of sight falls from Janus on the bed to beneath the mattress, as he lays limp on the ground as just an inanimate object.

He can see all around, as though his eyes aren't bound to a specific place, but trying to speak is futile, and trying to move is pointless. He can just lay there.

Roman watches with anticipation as Janus leans over the edge of the bed curiously, and shivers internally at the way Janus grins when he sees him.

"Look at you," Janus murmurs, as he grabs the reddened leather wallet from off the ground, though he does have to dig it out of Roman's clothes (of which Roman literally shrunk right out of). Roman's new body is thick, perfectly capable of holding as much cash or as many coins as Janus wants to stuff him with, and no doubt durable.

To Roman though, it's a shocking and sudden onslaught of new sensations. Janus grabbing him nearly gives him vertigo from how quickly he's being pulled off the ground and into Janus's hands, and the fact that Janus's palm basically envelops his entire body. When Janus presses the pads of his fingers into his fabric, it feels like his skin is being massaged. And when Janus squeezes, it feels like pleasant pressure.

"I'm assuming this doesn't hurt," Janus says, as he presses his palms tightly together with Roman's new form squished between them. "I adjusted the settings on the app to minimize your pain. I didn't want you to feel uncomfortable at all, considering you'll be stuffed into my pocket most of the day. But there's no harm in double checking."

If it did hurt, and Roman was uncomfortable, then he would merely change back. No harm done. 

Janus opens the wallet up, rubbing his thumbs over the inner wallet, before he does what he's most excited about - shoving his fingers into the pockets. 

As soon as Janus's digits slip into the biggest pocket where bills would go, Roman lets out an internal cry. Mentally, he's assaulted with pleasure, so much it's mind breaking. It's as though he's being fucked open by each finger pressing inside of him, and as Janus's fingers pet against his inner seams, Roman feels as though he's going to orgasm immediately.

But he can't.

And that's what's fun about it.

"Still feeling good, I presume?" Janus inquires, though Roman remaining as a perky little wallet gives him his answer already. He really has no idea just how good Roman's feeling though, nor how badly he already needs to come. "Good, good. I believe you're familiar with your cards, right? I'll be needing them, and you're just so good at carrying them normally that I think you'll be even better at carrying them now." 

Janus's words are teasing and playful as he grabs Roman's discarded wallet and begins to pull out the cards and cash from it. He lays them all out, before grabbing the cards one at a time, and slowly sliding them into Roman's slits instead.

Roman is filled with utter humiliation as he's quite literally filled with his own cards, because he knows it's such a mundane thing. An outside observer would have no idea that Roman's actually a person. So many people are going to see him and have no idea that he's trapped in an ever-looping state of ecstasy, and that exhibitionism, that voyeurism, with no real risk but all the payoff turns him on way more than he'd like to admit.

Add to that: the helplessness.

He can't move at all; he can't even squirm a little! He can do nothing to stop the pleasure and he loves it. Roman is left with his own sounds of pleasure echoing within his own mind. Each card inside of him makes him feel more and more full, and Janus is just talking to him like it's nothing.

Surely - at least to some extent - he must know how Roman's feeling, but if he does he doesn't let it show, and just chats him up while casually giving Roman the most intense pleasure he's ever felt.

"I sure am lucky that you make such a good wallet, hm?" Janus asks, as he takes his sweet time pushing every single credit card, gift card, and store-specific member card into Roman's pockets. "I have plenty of space, and you're already holding your cards in place so firmly! And your leather is so nice. Honestly, Roman, I might just have to keep you like this!"

Janus smirks to himself as he pictures how Roman would react if he actually could. With Janus slowly easing each card into Roman, and occasionally pulling one out and deciding he likes it better in a different pocket. Every once in a while he pretends to be distracted by just how nice Roman's inner lining is, and runs his thumbs along the seams and over the interior, while murmuring that Roman makes such a "high-quality wallet."

But alas, he does still want to go out today, and so wraps his teasing up in just a few minutes. Though, those few minutes feel torturously stretched out from Roman's perspective.

He was already feeling so close just from Janus continuously touching him - consistently feeling up his compressed body or stuffing him full of items. He has no idea how he's going to last the rest of the day, let alone the rest of this prep-time!

And that prep-time is filled soon after Janus finishes with the cards, deciding to grab Roman's hefty amount of cash.

"I plan to spend quite a bit today," Janus claims, as he thumbs through the stack of bills, with 50s, 20s, and 10s, flicking by Roman's face at an indecipherable speed. Roman feels a pang of jealousy with how intimately Janus is fiddling with the bills. "I might even need to go to an ATM to get a bit more cash. Not all stores accept cards, you know. Especially in a mall." Janus sticks his tongue out and, under his breath, mutters "stupid outdated storefronts."

He then pushes Roman's cash compartment open, and very carefully pushes the bills into it, filling Roman up more than the latter thought possible. As Janus's fingers and bills press into the pocket, he feels like he's being fucked into more intensely than with the cards, and as Janus playfully dips his fingers in and out of the bulging compartment, Roman's overwhelmed with that pleasure. Coins are dropped into him next, and as they jostle around they feel similarly to that of an intense vibrator, and Roman internally moans at those sensations too.

Roman couldn't ever possibly achieve this amount of pleasure this quickly if he was a person. He's ridiculously sensitive, and he loves that, but he quickly finds something he despises.

He already feels as though he's been brought right to the edge of an orgasm, but despite his needy cries filling his own mind, he's unable to ever achieve relief. And he further cries in despair when Janus heads out of the room, claiming to need a glass of water. He's set down so calmly on the counter, and ignored as Janus fetches a drink before his and Roman's endeavor. And Roman is stuck feeling pleasured.

He tries to convince himself that if Janus just kept touching and toying with him for a few more seconds he might be able to come, but he has the creeping suspicion that that won't be the case, and that he'll be left on the edge for much longer than he wants to be.

Still though, in his desperate state he can't help but want more under the false pretense that it'll give him the relief he craves. But Janus ignores him and gets water, leaving him stuffed full, frictionless, and helpless to watch as Janus takes his time hydrating before they go out.

To some extent, Roman even feels like he might burst! He's full of cash and coins and cards, and the culmination has him fuller than ever. But he was made to be a bulky foldable wallet, and so Janus obviously wanted to make sure he was full! He's about half as thick as his own wallet - which carries the same amount of stuff as Janus is forcing him to carry - but obviously way more sensitive. And he's been folded shut like it's nothing, even though he's barely staying closed.

"There," Janus sighs, after he's chugged a glass of nice, refreshing water. He grabs Roman's body, and runs his thumb over the front of it, where a fancy "R" is embroidered. Janus smiles as he rubs it. "Look at you... nice and full. How do you feel? Full, I imagine?"

Roman can't answer. He tries to - he really tries to - but he's unable. But he's feeling so, so full, and so, so good.

"I do still want to go shopping," Janus then says, as he squeezes Roman absentmindedly. "Though... you know I despise driving. Is walking okay? It'll be a quick trip, I promise. And it's warm out today; you know I enjoy the sun against my scales."

Janus feels a bit silly talking to an object, but he's sure Roman appreciates the acknowledgement. And as he gets ready to go, he slides Roman into his back pocket. He can feel just how full the wallet is as his pocket is tightly stretched to its limits to make room for the bulging pouch. 

Roman feels intense pressure around him as he’s pressed firmly into the pocket, with his body folded closed around itself and all of his holes, pockets, and slits filled to the brim. It’s pleasure in his ass, in his mouth, against his body - pleasure anywhere and everywhere that can realistically be pleasured. And once Janus starts walking, the coins inside of him start bouncing around, clinking against each other in the miniscule space they have, making Roman internally cry.

It’s like a vibrator buzzing inside and around him. He’s so close; he needs to come! He needs to! And he can’t. And Janus leaves the house.

It’s truly not too far of a walk to the mall, as their house was just a block or two away. And luckily the mall was the store Janus was keen on visiting, as he wanted to do a bit of window shopping! He also couldn’t pass on the opportunity to walk around while purposefully neglecting and tormenting his lovely boyfriend.

He’s aware that Roman is probably aching with need already, but the day has hardly begun! And Janus doesn’t intend on ending their play session any sooner than he has to.

Roman, for now, is still desperately holding out hope for an orgasm.

This is the fastest he’s ever gotten close! Every part of his body is being stimulated, even though he hardly has a body anymore! He’s just a wallet to be pried open and used, stuffed full and folded, and crammed into pockets, and it feels so good.

Due to the constraining nature of Janus’s pocket, Roman can’t see anything, and so can’t gauge how close they are to the mall. And it’s not like Janus is going to talk to a wallet, especially while out in public when people can see him! He’d look crazy! So Roman’s left anxiously awaiting his next opportunity to be useful. And surely, surely, when he’s useful, he’ll be granted the privilege of coming! 

Roman can just barely tell when Janus actually arrives at the mall, and the only reason he’s able to figure it out is due to the chatter of other patrons that Janus passes. Luckily, that noise dies down when Janus steps into one of the shops.

It’s one he frequently visits for general skin care, and as Roman hears the muffled sounds of Janus picking up items and setting them down, he swells with anticipation. Thrill runs through his inanimate body as he waits in utter agony to be used.

Janus takes his sweet time looking around the store. He picks up products, sets them down, and picks them up again, solely to torture Roman. He knows what he needs, of course - he’s pretty fond of his typical brands and isn’t interested in experimenting - but he has time to dawdle.

And by the time Janus finally reaches the check out line, Roman feels like he’s about to burst. He cries out as he’s grabbed, begging Janus mentally in a desperate mantra of ‘please! Please! Yes, Janus! Please, I need it!’ even though his pleas go unheard.

As Janus’s fingers grip his form, he wishes he could rub against them, though he’s instead forced to hear as each product is set against the counter. The beeping is torture as it slowly rings out rhythmically, but it further builds Roman’s delusions. He’s confident that as soon as Janus sticks his fingers inside of him, he’ll be met with sweet pleasure and instant relief, and then he’ll get to experience the build up to an orgasm all over again! Will he get to come every time they go to a new store? He’d be in pleasure heaven! Yes! Yes!

Janus is informed of the total once everything is rung up, and begins pulling out the money. He purposefully fumbles with the wallet and the dollars, though to the cashier it just looks like he’s debating between cash and card.

Since there’s nobody in line behind him, he even takes a minute to subtly rub his fingers against Roman’s seams, before eventually deciding on grabbing bills and paying with cash.

His fingers are inside of Roman for as long as they possibly can be without it seeming weird, but after just a few seconds of Janus’s digits thrusting in and out of him Roman is coming to the daunting realization that he feels permanently stuck on the edge. He’s not getting any closer to release than he was when Janus was touching him previously.

He sees a sadistic glint in Janus’s eyes as he pulls cash from Roman’s cash compartment, as though he knows what sort of torture he’s inflicting, and in response Roman cries out in pure, unfiltered need.

‘No… no, no! Janus, baby, please, it feels too good! I need more! I need to come! I’ll do anything!’

He’d be embarrassed if he had an actual voice to plead, but he doesn’t. And so Janus can’t even hear his shamelessly slutty bargaining, nor can Janus fully process just how edged Roman is.

So Roman’s left to watch as Janus pays for his things, and then pushes the receipt and spare change into Roman’s folds before closing the wallet once more, and stuffing it back into his pocket, depriving Roman once more and making him sob in pleasurable despair. 

After his items get bagged, Janus walks off to the bathroom. He checks each stall to make sure they’re empty, and then sets his bag down beneath the sink, pulling his wallet out. He holds it up to the mirror in order to let Roman watch while Janus runs his thumb over the outer leather, specifically caressing the embroidered “R” on the front.

“You’ve realized you can’t come by now, I’m sure,” Janus muses, pressing the pad of his finger into Roman’s body. “Do you find that torturous? Are you desperate yet?”

Roman can’t answer, but he sure as hell tries. Yes, he’s desperate! Yes, he needs to come! But Janus can’t hear his plight, and ignores his edging anyway, as he opens Roman up and slides a few of his cards back and forth, before closing him again, resisting the urge to give Roman more intense pleasure just to tease him.

“There’s a great coffee shop on the other side of the mall,” he comments, as though he’s having a casual conversation with his boyfriend, and not talking to a dumb, inanimate wallet. “There’s a closing store on the west side, too. I saw a coat there last time I was here that I’d love to have. I’m sure you won’t mind buying it for me.” Janus’s finger stalls, depriving Roman of any touch despite the pressure that comes with being firmly held. “You know… a mani-pedi also sounds nice. I haven’t had my nails done in a while. Sure, as a wallet you’d be crushed beneath me for most of the procedure, but you’re just a wallet, so what do I care?”

The idea of being ignored for an hour or two as Janus gets his nails filed to perfection is a fantasy that makes Roman cry, because he knows being sat on will negate the brief pleasure he gets in passing. The coins inside of him won’t bounce if Janus is still, and his inner pockets won’t be fingered open if Janus has no need to pay during the manicure.

He tries to plead with Janus, but Janus can’t hear him, and wouldn’t listen to him anyway.

What does it matter what Roman wants? He’s just an object. He’s just something to be carried around and used to Janus’s liking. 

And usually, Janus is absolutely an in and out shopper. He’ll go the path that gets him in and out the fastest! But with the way he’s talking, Roman’s afraid that Janus will spend his entire day in the mall! It’s cruel and mean, and undeniably hot, even if Roman doesn’t want it at all.

Roman would squirm if he could. He desperately wants to grind and touch himself and finish, but he can’t. And as he’s tucked back into Janus’s pocket, he lets out a cry of pleasured displeasure, knowing he’ll be stuck on the edge yet again.

Luckily for Roman, Janus really doesn’t want to spend more time in the mall than necessary. He got his skincare products, and he wasn’t lying about wanting a new coat, but his mani-pedi can fortunately be reserved for another day. He does begin walking off towards that store though, once again filling Roman’s mind and body with the overwhelmingly delightful sensation of coins jingling around inside of him. 

To Roman, time is measured in significant moments, and any time spent not giving him attention is stretched out until his neglect feels like it’s going on for hours, with nothing but the full feeling inside of him keeping him sexually satiated (as satiated he can be without relief, of course).

However, he quickly becomes excited again when he hears familiar beeping once more, as the coat Janus wanted to get is scanned, and the security tag unclipped. Roman would be writhing desperately if he could move, knowing that at any moment he’ll be pulled out and used again. He’s so excited, and it makes him feel humiliated, because he knows the pleasure he’ll receive won’t give him relief. And yet he still wants the pleasure anyway.

Janus pulls Roman out of his pocket and sets it on the counter, waiting to pay as his coat is neatly folded and placed into a plastic bag. As the cashier bags it, however, they turn towards Roman and gasp “that wallet is so cute; where’d you get it?”

Although surprised, Janus fights back a cheesy smile at the compliment. “Oh, this?” He slides the wallet forward, letting the cashier innocently admire it. “My boyfriend actually got this for me. Truly, I kind of love it, but I have no idea where he bought it from! I believe he said it was one of a kind… so he must have gotten it custom-made.” Janus leans over the counter as the cashier brushes their thumb along the embroidery. “That’s his initial stitched into it. Cute, right?”

“Your boyfriend got you a wallet with his initial on it?” It’s more a probing question as opposed to any sort of judgement, but Janus merely snickers at the comment.

“He likes to be appreciated,” Janus explains, his amusement clear in his voice. “I don’t mind. It’s a sturdy wallet, and that’s all I ask for. Besides, I’ll always think of him when I look at it, and that’s always a bonus.”

The cashier sighs romantically. “Aww. That’s sweet.”

They pass the wallet back to Janus, who pulls one of Roman’s cards from a slit and pushes it into the card reader, though Roman is still bursting with other visas and capital ones just begging to be used. Another day, perhaps. Still, one card being taken from him leaves him whining and begging for it to fill him once more. Being empty in the slightest is torturous, as though he’s being denied his purpose! And he cries out in delight when Janus slowly pushes it back in, before whimpering as he's shoved back into Janus's pocket. 

 Janus is handed his bag after, and waved bye by the cashier as he walks out, which has Janus frowning a bit as he leaves the store. He only has three bags - two filled with body products and one with the coat - but it's three bags too many! If Roman were human, then he'd carry the bags for him, but unfortunately Janus was left to drag the (relatively light) bags home himself. 

That's right; he was on his way out of the mall. Not that Roman could tell. 

Roman moans as his form is pressed and shifted within Janus's pocket, bills folding and rubbing against his inner walls. He doesn't even process that Janus seems to be walking a bit longer than normal, though he does mentally perk up as he hears a door open. Was Janus going back to the bathroom or something? Malls don't typically have doors. And then Janus's bags are hitting the ground, and Roman seems to realize they're home. Janus sighs in relief as he flops onto his bed, kicking his shoes off while pulling Roman from his back pocket and getting himself comfortable as he flips the wallet open. 

"Hello, love," Janus murmurs, grinning slyly. "Did you enjoy our little trip to the mall? I know I did." 

'Please!' Roman cries out, pleading with Janus to touch him now that they're in the comfort of their own home. 'Please, I need it! Janus, please!'

"Let me get those bills out of you, yeah? They belong in your actual wallet, after all." 

'No, no, no!' 

Roman cries as Janus makes good on his word and slowly pulls the cash out of Roman's cash compartment, setting it on the nightstand with the intention of packing it into Roman's wallet later. The coins come next, with Roman being shaken until he's moaning in disorientation as the pennies and dimes fall out of him, leaving him feeling emptier and emptier, with the cards being slid out last. Janus takes his time rubbing his thumb along Roman's inner slits as he carefully pushes each card out, and sets them aside as well. One by one Roman's left desperate as all of the items that gave him purpose and pleasure. And then he's empty. And it leaves him needy and sobbing. 

"There we go!" Janus says, as though Roman isn't begging to be filled and touched, even though his pleas never reach Janus's ears. "All empty. Now I don't have to worry about ruining your cash." 

His words are almost missed by Roman's noisy being, but Roman isn't able to miss Janus undoing his pants and shoving them down just enough to get his cocks out. Janus gives them a few strokes with his free hand just to get himself worked up, and then brings Roman closer, cupping his body with his palm and pushing one of his cocks against Roman's inside slits and pockets, where his cards once were. 

Janus then closes the wallet just enough to get a grip, and begins to slowly pump it up and down his length, groaning in the process. 

"Fuck, Roman, even as a wallet you're still a great sex toy," he praises, as Roman's form is pushed up to the tip of his cock, and then dragged back down, rubbing against his shaft as it slowly gets slick with the pre beginning to roll down from Janus's slit. 

And Roman can't help but moan as his insides are stimulated by Janus's rubbing. He can taste Janus's cock and the salty pre that's lubing up his length in its entirety; he can taste Janus, and he can feel him so intensely too. And as he's squeezed around Janus's cock, he only feels better. He's worked up and up, rubbed so intensely that he almost forgets how empty he feels, until he quickly reaches his peak. And he's held at it. Held, and forced to wait. 

Janus moans himself as he strokes himself with both hands - one for each cock, although one of his hands is also gripping Roman - and works himself towards an orgasm. Though, he's not too quick to come, and slows down once or twice while he feels himself getting close. 

"Keep feeling this good and I might just not even turn you back," Janus mutters, as he pushes his face into his shoulder. One of his eyes stays peeked open in order to stare at Roman's inanimate form swallowing his cock the way a wallet would swallow up cards. "You can just stay my perky little wallet forever. What else are you good for other than holding my money?" 

Roman cries out desperately at Janus's words as Janus compresses his body tighter around his cock, and tries to squirm as he watches Janus's cheeks go pink and his breath hitch. 

Janus's hands speed up around his cock as his body feels hot. He really does think Roman makes a magnificent wallet, but he can't help but picture Roman's face in place of the leather object, being rubbed against Janus's cock and tortured due to his own pleasure being neglected. And that pathetic desperation that Janus knows Roman is experiencing is what finally pushes him over the edge, leaving him groaning quietly as he comes, coating Roman's body in semen until he's drenched and ruined by it. And then he's dropped onto the bed, left tasting Janus's mess with every crevice and fold present on his inanimate figure. 

Janus shifts his position, and Roman cries needily as he thinks Janus is getting up, only to feel that dizzying warmth and tingling spread over his body again, until he's grown into a human once more. He's nude, though he is coated with Janus's come from the face down, with semen streaking across his pretty flushed face, with the excess dripping down his neck and pecs. 

His eyes are brimming with tears as he immediately and shakily begs "please! Please, Janus, touch me, please!" 

His arms tremble as he leans forward onto them, and Janus lets out a soft, genuine laugh as he guides Roman to lay back by setting a soft hand on his breast to push him backwards. But Janus's palm grinds over Roman's sensitive nipple, and Roman's body - which just spent the past hour or so being delectably abused - is incredibly sensitive, and so this bare minimum amount of pleasure has Roman spiraling over the edge and coming quickly and untouched, his cock twitching as come spurts out of him in intense streaks, dirtying the comforter and Janus's pants in the process, as Roman falls back against the bed and cries out in pleasure. 

Even Janus is startled by the sudden orgasm! But he didn't torture Roman all day just for their pleasure to end this soon!

"Oh, my poor, poor dear," Janus begins, in mock sympathy, as he leans over Roman. Roman looks up at him with tears running down his face. He's shaking, and his breath is quivering just as much. "Is that all you have in you? I thought you'd want a proper orgasm!" 

"I do," Roman weakly insists, his voice desperate. "I do, please! Please, please, please!" 

Janus's eyes shine in amusement. "Really? You think you can handle it?" 

"Yes, yes, yes!" 

"Alright, love. Anything for you. Especially after you've been such a good wallet for me today. You were so good for me, Roman, holding my cash and my cards so well!" Janus wraps his hand around Roman's limp cock, and feels it slowly firm up in his hand as he strokes it. Roman moans in sensitivity, his body overwhelmed and oversensitive, but still willing to take whatever else Janus is willing to give him. "You're the best wallet I've ever owned! Did you like it, Roman? Being completely at my mercy? Being filled up and folded and kept safely in my pocket?" 

"Yes, yes," Roman gasps, hardly able to catch his breath. 

"Did you like being admired?" Janus squeezes the base of Roman's cock, and watches as Roman's back arches off the bed. "It seems that I wasn't the only one who found your form cute." 

"Yes!" Roman moans, bucking his hips needily into Janus's curled fingers. 

Janus smiles, and leans down to kiss Roman's jaw, purposefully avoiding any of the areas stickied with his come. "Good boy. Good wallet. Did you like being edged? Feeling pleasure, but being unable to come? I know I liked imagining your desperation. And it was all worth it, wasn't it? Because I'm being so generous and letting my pretty little wallet come now, aren't I?" 

"Janus!" Roman cries, more tears streaking down his bright red cheeks, as his hand grabs onto Janus's free hand, gripping it as though he needs something to keep him grounded. "Please! Oh, please, please, please!" 

"Come, dear," Janus urges him. "Nothing's stopping you." 

And Roman does. Quickly, suddenly, and forcefully, coming again despite only being touched for just a few moments. A strained noise comes from his mouth, guttural and full of pleasure, and once his orgasm has been milked out of him, he's going limp against the bed, with stuttering, breathy cries being the only thing coming out of him from that point on. 

Janus gives him a few minutes to breathe, before lovingly squeezing Roman's hand. 

"Do you want a bath, my Roman?" he quietly asks, and watches as Roman makes a noise of affirmation, but doesn't make an attempt to move at all. Janus can only picture his exhaustion after being edged for a prolonged amount of time. Longer than Janus has edged him in the past, anyway. Janus rubs over Roman's knuckles and up his forearm, and stays giving him gentle love until Roman's able to be guided into sitting up. He gives Roman encouraging praise for doing that, and even helps him stand after. 

A bath will be nice for both of them, especially in their big jacuzzi tub. And Roman can't help but admit it feels nice for him to hold Janus for a change as they cuddle in the warm water, both of them taking the time to relax beneath the bubbles and recoup their energy after a very eventful day. 

Though it's only a matter of time before Janus wants to revisit the app, and Roman will be more than happy to indulge him once he does. 

[oubliette-odette]

The Reluctance of Love Pt. 11

When I started writing this a month ago, it was quite honestly just a little drabble to keep my mind occupied during the middle of a really stressful move. And now I have fully invested myself to writing an entire novel...wtf. But truly, those of you who continue to interact and support this story - you have NO IDEA how much it means to me. I consider you all my friends because you take the time to love these boys as much as I do. So from the bottom of my heart, mad love to you all. 💚

And what's this? A new character enters the playing field!

Orc Male x Half-Elf Male, Fated Mates, Forbidden Love, Slow Burn Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10 11, 12 Word Count: 2547 (average 19 min read) Content Warnings: mention of mating, homophobia, fantasy racism (the steamy bits are coming i promise folks - I'm antsy too) All orcish is from orcishdictionary.com, created by Matt Vancil. Not beta-read. Criticism is welcome, but be sure to distinguish criticism from hate. Thanx :)

“You look like you could use a friend.”

Inside the General Store, I heard the gentle, velvety voice behind me no louder than a whisper. I turned to see the violet-toned dragonborn that had nodded at me when I arrived in Berdusk. They had shocking purple eyes to match and they regarded me with a quiet, gentle atmosphere. 

I nodded and turned to face them, bringing my chin down to show my respect. I wasn’t sure what to say, but the dragonborn took my forearm, and continued speaking. “Berdusk is a quaint city, but it is not the most welcoming. My name is Doxxah, what is yours, friend?”

I looked around and saw that the other shopper within the store were watching the two of us carefully, but not before making quick glances away. I looked back at the Dragonborn and managed to utter back, “Drunrag Ulurat.”

“Ah, I see your father in you.” Doxxah responded, “He’s an old friend of mine from days long ago. What brings you all the way to Berdusk?”

How did I answer? Knowing the present company around us, it didn’t feel safe to say anything. 

Doxxah winked and patted my arm gently. “Why don’t you come with me back to my place? I’ll purchase whatever you need from here.”

“Oh, there’s no need.” I said, I lifted in my arms the small collection of fresh produce I had come to purchase, it was just enough to satisfy for the next week. I wasn’t ready to overcommit too much time here. Not if Altan and I could find a way to get him out.

“Please, you’re a guest in this town and I’d like to treat you.” The Dragonborn smiled, “Plus - don’t remind your father about this - but I still owe him a few favors that I’d like to clear my conscience of.” They then proceeded to gather the produce in my arms and carry it towards the counter where a glum man was waiting. 

“Good morning Clarence.” Doxxah said cheerily, depositing all of their goods.

“Doxxah.” The man grunted, they seemed to begrudge having to be so polite to the Dragonborn and he looked up at me suspiciously. “You bring a lot of odd folk to our town.”

“Isn’t it lovely?” Doxxah responded. “It's about time we brought a little colour to the town.” Doxxah turned to wink at me before paying the man with their coins and carrying everything out. 

Out in the streets Doxxah walked comfortably, confidently, it sometimes felt as if they walked like they were the most important person on the street. And people looked at them that way too. 

“Just right here.” Doxxah said after passing a few buildings. I looked up to find myself in front of a bakery, a sign hanging that was cut and sanded down to the shape of a dollop of frosting. Walking inside, there was a rich aroma of cinnamon, vanilla and fresh, warm bread. 

“Make yourself at home, I have just a bit of time before I have to open up the shop.” Doxxah moved briskly and comfortably about the space, dropping their sack of flower onto a counter in the back before throwing my produce into another sack and handing it to me. “Now, tell me, Drunrag, what’s your story?”

I still struggled to open my mouth. I suddenly realized just how…how silly I was being. How do I tell someone I was pining for the Duke’s son in a way that I was wholly unprepared for and traveled all the way from the Sword Coast just to make sure that he was okay and now was committing an indeterminate amount of time to break him free from his father’s controlling grip so we could potentially be something more than friends?

I ended up opening and closing my mouth multiple times before Doxxah let out an amused huff and shook their head. “You’re not a big talker, are ya?”

I shook my head. 

Doxxah led me over to a set of table and chairs - considerably large in size to fit us comfortably - and swept across the store, retrieving a steaming cup of tea and a plate of many pastries that they placed in front of me. 

“Let me ask you this, friend, are you in any dire need?”

I shook my head, “No. Thank you.”

“Are you looking for a job?”

I pondered the question. It had already been a week since I last saw Altan and neither of us had been able to see each other. There was no knowing how long it would take to find an opportunity to see him again and my funds weren’t bottomless.

Doxxah tapped a clawed finger on the table. “I could use someone with some stamina and strength in my bakery. Would you be interested?”

I nodded, “Yes. Thank you.”

“Wonderful, that’s two favors down now!” Doxxah exclaimed, “Soon, your father will be owing me!” They laughed before they suddenly sobered and looked at me intently. “Listen here, Drunrag. Berdusk isn’t the friendliest town when it comes to newcomers. You have to have grit to make it around here. People will stare at you. They might say things that show their ignorance. But there are good people here too, and they’re the ones worth staying for.”

Altan’s face came to my mind at their words, a warm feeling forming within me.

“Now, you eat up while I get this shop open. If you feel like helping I only ask that you get that gunk out from beneath your nails.”

My cheeks burned as I looked down to see black beneath each of my nails. I uselessly wiped my fingers across the front of my shirt and watched in a daze as Doxxah once again moved like a whirlwind as they flung open windows, propped the door open and summoned from the back of the store fresh trays of all sorts of delicious looking breads, pastries, and muffins. My mouth salivated even midchewing through my own pastry. 

From inside the warm comfort of Doxxah’s bakery, I could look out and see Berdusk in a different light. It was a quaint town, full of small little businesses like Doxxah’s that offered small comforts for folks. It was a more rich town than where I had been and the streets were clean, well swept and the people who walked them were well-dressed and friendly-looking - at least to each other. 

I was surprised to see a customer walk in not moments before the shop opened and even more surprised to see it was the man who had been riding alongside the Duke last week. His hair was brown, long, and he had a full beard that concealed much of his expression. His eyebrows were thick and furrowing and he had a very serious look to him. 

“Gaius!” Doxxah exclaimed. “Been a long time! Day off?”

He shook his head, “No, just a late start.”

“How are the young lordlings?”

My ears perked at the question and I listened intently.

Gaius nodded solemnly, “With the eldest Hilmar back, the younger ones seem to be in bright spirits. However, that eldest boy…he feels like a fish out of water.”

Doxxah hummed agreeably, “I pity the poor things. To be raised by a man who’s greatest love is power….” There was a lull in the conversation, it felt awkward and somber. Doxxah quickly perked up, “Tell me, how is Del and the babe?” 

Gaius’s eyes brightened and I could see beneath the beard the lift of his lips as he broke into a nervous laugh. “Del is well, not more than a month before the baby should be here.”

I watched quietly from my corner as Doxxah and the large man interacted. Doxah seemed to have an intense amount of charm that helped them ease into any conversation. I could see how much the man was easing around them. 

“Well, you tell me when the baby is coming, I know a thing or two about delivering little tykes. You tell Del that, will you?” While Doxxah talked, their hands were doing their own thing, pulling small moon shaped rolls and a loaf of bread from trays and carefully placing them into a paper box, tying it off with a ribbon and handing them to Gaius. 

“I will, thank you.” Gaius said, his voice was low, like a rumble from a weighted wheel on a wagon - it reminded me of my father’s - and he paid her before turning to leave. As he turned, his eyes met mine and I saw that he recognized me from last week. He gave me a gentle nod before turning and walking out of the shop.

“Who is that?” I braved to ask.

Doxxah tried to read me before answering, “Gaius Gideon. He’s Berdusk born and raised and is proud of it. He’s the Commander of the Phoenix Legion. They’re the armed defense and security that exists around the town. He’s currently stationed at the Duke’s Hall. He’s been gone for quite a few weeks, heard he was escorting back the eldest son of the Duke who ran away.”

“Altan.” I said aloud, not thinking.

Doxxah raised an eyebrow, “So you’ve heard of him?”

I nodded, “He’s…” I looked down, my fingers caught between each other. “We’ve met.”

“Ah, I believe I’m beginning to paint the picture of why you’re here.” Doxxah said, an understanding tone in their voice. “Close friends?”

My throat tightened at the question, all I could do was nod.

Doxxah chuckled and turned their attention to their baked goods. “Perhaps you would like to join me when I make my weekly delivery to their cook?”

“You deliver to the Duke?”

Doxxah puffed their chest, “Well naturally! There’s no better baker in town than me. I’ve got to keep the shop open for a bit this morning, but once the fresh loaves are out, we’ll take them straight to the Duke’s Hall? Will you come?”

I nodded, my heart was already pounding inside me at the news. 

The hours dragged by, but I did my best to be of help to Doxxah. While they were busy decorating small cakes and tarts, I was busy transferring bags of flour from one storage area to another. Shifting and rearranging things as Doxxah directed felt like a lot of busy, meaningless work, but I was grateful for the distraction.

At the peak of the day, Doxxah announced that the goods to be delivered to the Duke’s kitchens were ready and they handed me a stack of boxed goodies and we were on our way straight up the hill, towards the Duke’s Hall.

The guards said nothing as Doxxah led us through and my eyes were transfixed on the building that loomed before me. It was impressive and surely expensive architecture and there were armed men everywhere I looked, but also gardens, fountains, fragrant flowers and many sets of stairs that eventually led to the double doors into the Hall. I struggled to take it all in while I was also balancing the stack in my hands.

The armed men at the double doors gave a polite nod before opening the doors wide and letting us through. Doxxah hummed as they walked down the hallway. The halls were tall and wide open. I believed it was the first time that I ever felt small and I couldn’t keep up with everything that I was seeing. Candelabras with dozens of candles illuminated the halls and paintings of long dead historical leaders spanned the length. There was a plush rug beneath my feet that I worried was being soiled by my boots.

Doxxah turned down many halls that kept me confused and very lost, but eventually we passed down one where I started to catch the whiff of hot food on the stove. I was about to follow Doxxah into the kitchen. The cooks were delighted to see the delivery and we handed them off without a hitch. Doxxah was leading me back out, our hands empty now. I trusted them to lead us out, because I couldn’t remember a single turn we made.

As we worked our way back down the halls, I noticed many halls crossed into others and I enjoyed peering down them, wondering where they would all lead to.

I stopped when I found one that led to a dead end, with a tall, rounded window and a young man sitting in a window seat, sketching. 

“Altan.” I breathed.

I didn’t know if he had heard me, or if he just knew I was there, but he looked up and his copper curls danced against his cheeks and I felt the warmth of the sun inside me. 

His sketchbook slipped from his hands and he stumbled onto his feet, “Drunrag?” He exclaimed before tripping to get towards me.

I closed the distance to catch him and I found him suddenly in my arms. All of the warmth and sunshine inside him seeped into me. I was selfishly wishing to feel more of it. 

‘Are you alright?” I asked, my voice no louder than a whisper.

He nodded, his mouth hung open as he clung to me. “How did you - what are you - why are you here?”

I smiled gently, “I…I got a job.”

“What? You did?” He swiveled his head around me and saw Doxxah standing at the end of the hall, a knowing smile on their face. “With Doxxah?”

I nodded, “I’m staying here until…” I didn’t know what to say: until we’re together? Until you’re safe? Until you’re mine? All of those felt so…intense and final.

Altan’s mouth opened into a wide smile. “You’re incredible, you know?”

“Me?” I shake my head. “No, not me. You…” I couldn’t look away from him. “It’s you.”

I think we both found ourselves blushing at what we both said and I suddenly became very aware of his hands being dwarfed in mind. And the warmth that exuded from him made something in me feel alive. 

“I…I should go.” I said. "You are alright?”

He nodded, his expression became more sober. “I’m sorry Drun. I wish I could just leave with you…” His hand was suddenly on my chest and I felt a zing of delight course though me. “I understand if you can’t stay.”

“Don’t give up on me.” I said. “Please.”

He let out a sharp release of breath, “Drun, I could never…I just don’t when…”

I shook my head, “I’ll be here whenever it is.”

“Commander Gideon, what a surprise after this morning!” Doxxah exclaimed, louder than normal.

Altan jerked his hand back and I jumped back and looked to see that Doxxah was giving us a wink before turning her attention away. My cheeks burned as I looked over to Altan who had already turned away and was back in his seat on the windowsill, his head buried in the sketchbook.

“A pleasant reunion during my short interlude between meetings, Mx Doxxah.” Commander Gideon observed. He bowed to Doxxah, then saw me, saw Altan, looked back at me before making a slight nod in my direction. I bowed my head. 

“Deliveries are made, so we’ll be getting back. Just said hello to the young lord.” Doxxah explained before bowing their head and guiding us down the hall.

The Commander bowed his head and continued one and I followed Doxxah going the opposite direction, my head spinning.

“You were holding out on me, Drunrag. You two are close friends.” Doxxah said, their voice teasing. “Very close friends.”

“Shut up.” I managed to say.

[flemethinabighat]

I so happily certain this has been done before and I’m thusly excited to join a small crowd of others with my surely minuscule addition. First chapter of a little fanwork about Hawke and Isabela on a perilous date night in Kirkwall:

Hawke and I leaned towards one another, a pact made before the game to ensure we both came out on top, a picture I licked her lips over. It didn’t hurt that Fenris couldn’t keep his pretty eyes off of us. Hawke didn’t seem to notice or didn’t let herself seem to notice. While I couldn’t help but sigh. The three of us could have had a terribly fun night together, but the way those two avoided tangling glances suggested to me that they had already tried and failed on that front.

I didn’t want to fuss over it, Hawke’s business was her own, and her hand gently pressed against my bare thigh awaiting a slipped card was enough of a distraction to draw me away from the wisp of disappointment. Hawke was more than enough fun for anyone. Easy going, nonjudgmental, and funny when she stopped trying to be.

Merrill rose to get another pitcher of ale for their table, as usual leaving her cards face up, Anders sighed turned them over and made to finish his drink, tea. Poor thing. I slugged back the last of my ale and watched Hawke do the same. Her auburn hair tossed over one shoulder, her brown skin kissed with freckles and scars, one of my bangles looped around her arm, it felt right to see such beauty touched by gold.

My gold, taken from a dead slaver’s pocket, molded into a kraken with long twisting tentacles lopping to form a band. Two chips of emerald for its eyes, glaring and winking from the torches lit just as the sun went down. I slipped the desired card carefully into Hawke’s waiting fingers, grasping them before the mage could move away, far too long a touch to be mistaken, and I thrilled at Hawke’s smile, half hidden behind her cards.

“Hey, I want to see everyone’s eyes.” Varric said over the rising music and chatter all around. “I know something’s up between you two, you’ve gotten all quiet and shifty.”

“Maybe we’re too enamored of each other to speak,” Hawke laughed, “you are looking especially lovely tonight, Bels.”

I smirked as she slipped a card into my waiting hand, her warm palm pressed against my thigh this time more purposefully. I felt herself clench in all the right places. I surreptitiously slipped the next card into her hand and mused as I absently gazed at my hand, a song, an angel, and three serpents. Not too bad, but that really didn’t matter. I had a sovereign sitting on the table, but it didn’t matter. The only gold I kept gazing at was the kraken around Hawke’s wrist.

Varric drew the death card, he cursed and they lay out their cards just as Merrill got back with the pitcher. “Oh what did I miss? oh, I lost again, well, good thing we were only practicing.”

Varric loosed a long suffering sigh/chuckle, “daisy, we all made bets but you, that’s why Anders is pissed.” Merrill waved a hand and Anders huffed in disgust. “Well, Hawke, you’ve gone and made yourself a little richer. I think you’re a dirty cheat, both of you, but here take my money, consider it my investment for when you have to cover my paupers debts.”

“So maudlin, Varric.” She grinned, tossing her thick waves over her shoulder, the scent of cinnamon and flame washed over me and I sucked in a shallow breath to savor it. “Here keep your money, I just wanted to see what we could get away with.” She tossed their coins back to them, Fenris slapping his hand over the rolling coin before it fell, allowing his hair to cover his eyes. Anders snatching his up and gave them a tired grin before rising to leave.

“Well, this is it for me, gang, I’m afraid it’s an early morning for the clinic, and since I can’t get drunk enough to listen to this awful Marcher music anymore it’s best I shuffle out before Justice burns the instruments.”

He patted Varric’s shoulder and gave Hawke a sad sort of nod and me a passing envious glance. He still had sore feelings, I supposed. Hawke was a flighty creature, nothing and no one could lurch out and grab her haphazardly before she could flap away, talons red with the blood of the fool who tried.

He still looked wounded under his own feathers. So did Fenris. I watched him rise and leave, hardly a word spared in farewell. I caught Varric watching me watch him and winked at him. He shook his head, a lament or a warning I couldn’t tell but merely cracked a grin at him, stoking the flames as always.

“You know, Hawke it’s still early we could have a few more drinks.” Varric Varric Varric. I grinned at him and he winced. Protecting his surrogate sister from little ol’ me?

Hawke chuckled, “I think it’s time I left the hanged man before dawn, at least once this week.” And just like that, my grin faltered. Since Hawke’s mother… well, going home wasn’t the same for any of us, that’s why we all squatted in our various hiding places.

Merrill smiled cheerfully and as always I warmed to see it, Merrill had been especially difficult to get out of the house lately, some obsession over a mirror and she’s not even vain. Yes I know it’s a magical mirror or whatever, but that’s not the point. Point is, hiding is never healthy.

“Varric worries, it’s really very sweet. But we’re all going to be ok, right Hawke?” Merrill said, her big green eyes hopeful. It was a pact as always, don’t go too far don’t make things worse. We always tried to find a new way to promise it, and no one really believed. Or at least, I didn’t.

But Hawke laughed, a bright sound above the taverns clatter, bright as gold. “If I had a sovereign for every time I told someone everything would be ok and immediately afterwards everything went directly to shit I would be able to fill the viscounts keep with a dragons horde. So no, maybe not ok but good enough to make it home without disaster certainly.”

“Well now that you’ve said it youre definitely going to have to fight a hundred merchants guild assassins on the way back up to Hightown.” Varric rasped with a chuckle.

Hawke and he chattered for a few more minutes, goodbye was always a production for them, while I gave Merrill a kiss in farewell. Ok is only barely good enough as it is, every assertion of things staying right is a lie, a blown kiss across the blooming rose’s tawdry bar. I know this, Hawke knows this, but we don’t say it.

Hawke grins like each tooth behind her lovely lips is a dagger pointed at sorrow, defiant and gruesome. I want to kiss those lips until a real smile emerges but I don’t think she remembers what it takes to do that. Maybe I didn’t either.

I trailed Hawke and Merrill to the door, the hanged man was my home, for now, more or less- mostly less-thus I had no reason to leave.

I had no reason at all to follow them outside into the slightly cold night, the wind licking along my thighs making me shiver. I had no reason at all to grasp her hand after Merrill vanished around the corner and Hawke lingered and the mess and stench and noise of the tavern faded away.

I had no reason at all to drag her into the alleyway for a hot kiss that reminded me of all the little touches we had denied ourselves for these last few years since the last time we had “girly time”.

She had even less reason to kiss me back and yet…

We had messed up each others clothes enough to laugh at our respective disrepute and then ruined any attempts to straighten out with more kissing. I stopped and grinned at her, I know she knew what that grin meant.

“A proposal, sweet thing, if you dare?”

She always did.

[vapehk1]

Why Rechargeable Vapes are the Real MVPs of the Vaping World

Hey there, vape enthusiasts and curious cats! If you've been wandering through the foggy realms of vaping choices, wondering what's the best pick for your puff, let's plug into the world of rechargeable vapes. Not only are they friendlier to your wallet in the long run, but they're also a little wink to Mother Earth. Stick around as we dive into the electrifying world of rechargeable vapes and discover why they’re the unsung heroes in the cloud-making biz! The Eco-Friendly Puff Machine Alright, let's get this out of the way: rechargeable vapes are like the electric cars of the vape world. Every time you recharge instead of tossing, you’re saying a big ‘no thanks’ to adding more trash to landfills. Imagine all those disposable vapes piling up—it's not just a sad sight, it's a cry for help! Rechargeable vapes come in with a cape, ready to save the day and the planet, one recharge at a time. But it’s not just about reducing waste. These nifty devices are often made with higher-quality materials that are built to last. This means fewer resources are used in the long run for manufacturing. Plus, using one device repeatedly helps reduce the environmental footprint of your vaping habit. So, not only do you get to enjoy your favorite flavors, but you also get to pat yourself on the back for being environmentally conscious! Cost-Effective Clouds Let’s talk turkey—or in this case, cash. Initial thoughts? Yeah, rechargeable vapes might pinch your wallet a bit harder at the start. But let's math this out: the cost of buying disposables over and over can add up faster than likes on a viral cat video. With rechargeables, you buy once, and then it’s just the e-juice and occasional replacement parts. Long story short, it’s the difference between renting and buying a home—invest early, save loads later! Think about it this way: every charge is like putting coins back in your pocket. The average rechargeable vape device can withstand hundreds of charging cycles before even thinking about giving up. Compare that to buying a new disposable every few days or weeks, and the math is clear. Your bank account will thank you, and you'll never have to worry about running out at an inconvenient time—just recharge and you’re good to go! Customizable Cloud Chasing Jumping into the world of rechargeable vapes is like entering a buffet where you get to control your plate. Want more flavor? Adjust it. Need a bigger cloud? Crank up the power. You can tweak settings to match your vaping style, which is something disposables can’t compete with. It's all about having your cake and eating it too—or in this case, having your vape and loving it exactly how you want. Beyond just adjusting power and flavor, many rechargeable vapes offer interchangeable components. You can swap out tanks, try different coils, and even mess around with software updates if you’re techy. It’s a playground for those who like to tinker and fine-tune their experience. Why settle for a one-note vape when you can conduct a symphony? Always Ready to Roll Imagine you're about to head out the door, vape in hand, ready to conquer the day. But oh no—your disposable is out of juice. Guess it's a trip to the store for you. Now, if you had a rechargeable, it’s just a matter of plugging it in for a bit or swapping the battery. It’s the difference between a minor inconvenience and a total mood killer. Rechargeable vapes are also perfect for the wanderlust-filled vaper. Whether you're hopping cities or trekking mountains, all you need is your trusty charger or a spare battery to keep going. No need to hunt for a vape shop in unfamiliar territory—just recharge and inhale the freedom. It’s your reliable travel buddy that ensures you’re never left vape-less. Conclusion So, there you have it—rechargeable vapes are not just a choice; they're a lifestyle upgrade. Whether you're a cloud chaser, a flavor sampler, or just a casual puffer looking to save some green (both money and the planet), switching to a rechargeable device is a no-brainer. Unleash the full potential of your vaping experience, and let the good times roll, recharge after recharge! FAQs 1. What exactly is a rechargeable vape? A rechargeable vape is like your smartphone, but instead of feeding it apps and selfies, you feed it e-juice and it rewards you with clouds. It comes with a battery you recharge—hence the name—making it a trusty sidekick that's ready whenever you need a puff. Just plug it in, charge it up, and you're all set to vape away without needing a new device every time. 2. How often do I need to charge my rechargeable vape? How often do you need to charge it? Well, that depends on how vape-happy you are. Think of it like feeding a pet: the more you use it, the more you need to feed (charge) it. Typically, a fully charged battery can last anywhere from a day to a few days for moderate vapers. Just keep an eye on the battery indicator—if it starts looking as sad as a movie without popcorn, it’s time for a charge. 3. Is it more expensive to switch to a rechargeable vape? Upfront, yes, it's like buying a concert ticket instead of streaming the music at home. But just like the concert, you get a better experience and it pays off in the long run. After the initial cost of the device, you'll save money because you're not buying disposables all the time. Think of it as an investment in your vaping journey—more cash upfront, more savings down the road! 4. Can I customize my rechargeable vape? Absolutely! Customizing your rechargeable vape is part of the fun. It’s like having a mini lab where you can experiment with different flavors, vapor clouds, and settings. Most models let you swap out parts like tanks and coils, and adjust settings like temperature and voltage to really dial in your perfect vaping experience. It's like being a chef in your own flavor kitchen! 5. Are rechargeable vapes better for the environment? Yes, indeed! Using a rechargeable vape is like swapping plastic water bottles for a reusable one. By recharging and refilling the same device, you're cutting down on waste and helping Mother Earth breathe a little easier. No more tossing out disposables every few days. It’s a small step, but even small steps help when it comes to saving the planet. If you want to know more, please refer to this article: https://keystonevape.com/best-vape/the-best-disposable-vapes-2024-you-cant-miss/ Read the full article

[kfanopinions]

Hendery as a Boyfriend (Astrology Based)

as always, please take this with a grain of salt. i will be looking into hendery's moon, venus, and mars placements. there will be a below the cut section so if you're not over the age of 18, do not interact. thank you and enjoy!

taurus moon || leo venus || sagittarius mars

patient

responsible

routine-based likes the idea of a routine/schedule

“and i….eeeeee i….will always be devoted to you!” this was prominent in his taurus moon and leo venus. but with his taurus moon, it’s only if his partner deserves it. his leo venus puts their partners through tests so think of this like — once his partner has passed all the tests he will be incredibly devoted!

romantic gestures

“awe give us some sugar!!!” with his taurus moon and leo venus he could have a lot of affection to give to his partner.

committed/loyal won't cheat as long as love/affection is reciprocated but this is even more so with his taurus moon. he is loyal

“i can be your hero baby!” loves to feel like he is helping. he would also like to be seen as his partners hero

"bibidi-bobbbidi-boo" generous with gifts and can spoil his partner. both his taurus and leo side could have a tendency to spoil their partners. gift giving good even be part of his love language

learning through example will showcase what he wants in a relationship by demonstration

satisfaction wants to satisfy his partners every desire

open-minded

emotional/loving

long-term relationships doesn't think to much about flings/short lived romances. wants something longer

grand gestures this is more his leo venus coming out. anything where it's pda he may like. (leo's and attention i swear lol )

"let's paint the town" instead of being at home, hendery may like to go out on dates with his partner

stubborn hard to change his mind

jealous/possessive

emotional disappointment this is when his partner disappoints him. with his taurus moon he can get emotionally attached so if/when his partner disappoints him it can affect him 2-3x more than someone else disappointing him. he just invests a lot into the relationship and wants the same back

below the cut

do not interact if you're not over 18

passionate

"emotions taking me over" this is clear with his taurus moon. if there are no emotions attached to sex it's just "doing it." nothing else. hendery may prefer to have an emotional connection with his partner in order to feel more during sex

senses anything to do to stimulate the senses. candles, oils, blindfold, music, feathers, ice etc. things that the body can feel to enhance the act

mental stimulation this is at the forefront of a taurus moon

whispering during love making his partner whispering praises in his ear would be a turn-on

laughing/roughhousing this is in regards to his sagittarius mars

devotion and attention leo side coming through hard with this one. likes to be looked at like he's the only one that can satisfy his partner.

praising

little foreplay while his leo venus side loves to please/satisfy his partner his sagittarius mars has very little patience with foreplay. so i see this as a coin toss or 50/50

direct his leo and taurus side don't shy away with what they want in terms of sex so he'll be open with his needs/wants

grain of extra salt this with his sun and mars placement hendery MAY and i do mean MAY be slightly above average *wink*

[jaskierswolf]

My dearest darling Wolfie, I saw your idea for game gerlion friends to lovers in @thewitcherbog horny chat and I am here to ask you to write the fic. Pls 💜😘

Tada!! I can't remember if this was exactly what I had planned... but it's what we're getting. Lovingly beta'd by @comfyswitcherblanketfort.

CW: probably rated M? Briefly mentioned masturbation more horny than smutty.

____

A retirement at Corvo Bianco had never been what Geralt expected of his life. He hadn’t been lying when he’d told a young Dandelion that witcher’s never retire, but in recent years between looting caves and haggling for contracts, he’d managed to save quite a bit of coin. He was, objectively, rich. He had the best armour on the Continent, the most deadly swords and crossbow bolts, and thanks to B.B., his house was beautifully decorated, with the exception of the rather garish portrait of his most loyal friend. Yet, he was still gaining more money than he knew what to do with. He’d started investing in merchants and refusing payment but the vineyard brought in a steady income and Geralt had to admit that his life was pretty luxurious these days.

So it wasn’t exactly a surprise when Dandelion had turned up, in fine, brightly coloured silks and the elegantly decorated elven lute from so many years ago. Geralt sometimes wondered whether Toruviel had enchanted her lute. There was barely a scratch and Geralt couldn’t even recall Dandelion ever having to change the lute strings in all the years he’d known the bard. Geralt was no expert but he was pretty sure that you were supposed to change the lute strings.

The sun was shining over the fields of Corvo Bianco, and Geralt felt at peace. Perhaps that was why he was feeling so nostalgic, pondering over the events that had led him to this moment. His life had always been so busy, but with Ciri off touring the multiverse, and Yennefer doing whatever Yennefer did these days now the Djinn wish had been broken, he was… well… bored? He had every Gwent card currently made, and no one would play him. It was just him and the bard, living the bachelor’s life in Touissant.

So was it any wonder that Geralt had started to develop feelings for his friend? Perhaps they’d always been there, clouded by the wish that tied him to Yennefer, or perhaps their newfound domesticity had awoken something in Geralt that he had never expected. Dandelion spent a lot of time in the makeshift study, working on his latest book, but they always ate together and sometimes the bard would even accompany Geralt on his contracts in the fields, for old times sake. After long nights of drinking too much wine or vodka, it wasn’t unusual for the pair of them to fall asleep together, curled up in one bed just like they used to in their youth. Those were Geralt’s favourite nights, because despite his protests of being better alone, he enjoyed the familiar warmth of another body pressed against his, and Dandelion had always been a cuddler.

And as if on cue, the bard burst through the doors onto the patio where Geralt was watching the world go by.

“Ah, Geralt, old friend, there you are. I’ve been looking all over for you!” Dandelion announced with a flick of his wrist. “I was just in town.”

“Dandelion,” Geralt groaned. “Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

“Dear Henrietta will forgive me in time, my friend,” Dandelion winked, his tongue flicking out between his lips, “and until then I have plenty of friends who will offer me shelter if the guards are around.”

“You look like a man sized peacock,” Geralt scoffed. “How the hell does no one see you?”

“Ah, dear witcher, you forget that I used to be a spy,” Dandelion laughed, putting one hand on his hips. “Now, stop interrupting, Geralt, or do you not care about the gift I picked out for you in town today?”

Geralt hummed, knowing that it didn’t really matter whether he cared or not. Nothing would stop Dandelion once he was in the middle of a story. Some things just never changed. “Go on.”

Dandelion beamed, and from behind his back he produced a wooden box. The poet cocked his head as he opened the lid, revealing a set of tiny vials neatly lined up. Geralt almost choked, his breath catching in his throat.

“Oil?” he spluttered. A man such as Dandelion had to know of the more promiscuous uses of oil. Whilst Dandelion had never explicitly said as such, the way he talked of his lovers had always led Geralt to believe that he was rather flexible in his tastes, much like Geralt himself.

The poet blushed as he pulled a single vial from the box, his long lutist fingers wrapping around the glass. “Bath oils, Geralt.”

“Oh, of course,” Geralt cursed internally. Dandelion had bought all sorts of expensive oils and lotions when they had been on the path together, neither of them were shy with their bathing habits and the poet was a highly skilled masseur.

Which was not helping Geralt’s sudden rush of arousal as he remembered the feel of the poet’s hands on his skin. They’d laughed off awkward erections in the past, it was just a thing that happened… but Geralt was starting to wonder what would happen if, for once, they let it happen.

“This one will probably be a bit much for your witcher senses, my friend, but I rather like it,” Dandelion continued, oblivious to Geralt's inner turmoil. “This one,” another vial was plucked from the box, “however, I think you will like, and I managed to buy this,” Dandelion pulled a scroll from his pocket, “from a local mage. It’s supposed to move the water around the tub, like a massage!”

“And you’re telling me this, why?” Geralt sighed, rolling his eyes. As much as he adored his old friend, the man could take his sweet time getting to the point. It was even worse when the poet and Regis got together, Geralt honestly thought he might never know peace again.

“Because, Geralt, I am treating my dearest friend to an extravagant bath time experience!” Dandelion exclaimed with wide arms, almost knocking off his own hat in his enthusiasm. “Friendship and love, art and wine, Geralt. What more could you want in life?”

Love.

No, friendship. Geralt needed to focus on that. How many times had Dandelion called him his friend? Too many to count.

“Assuming you have wine, what’s the art?” Geralt smirked, enjoying the offended noises Dandelion made.

“Geralt, I’ll have you know that-”

“Relax, Dandelion. I’m teasing. So how about this bath then?”

The two men made their way upstairs, peeling off their outer clothes as they strolled past Geralt’s bedroom, and picking up a robe each. Dandelion had filled the room with candles, and there was a soft floral scent hanging in the air, roses, the oil vial that Dandelion had initially held up.

“I thought this one was too much for my ‘witcher senses’?” Geralt scoffed, peering at the magically bubbling water.

“Well, yes, but I did also say I liked this one, and I’ll admit that I got a little carried away. You don’t mind, do you Geralt?”

Geralt shook his head as he stripped off his final layer of clothing and settled into the tub. Dandelion sat in a chair, still wrapped in his robe, and picked up his lute. He plucked idly at the strings until he was seemingly happy that they were in tune, and then he began to sing. Geralt sighed as he sank deeper into the hot water, the enchantment really did feel like a sort of massage as jets of water pulsed against his skin, but he couldn’t help but wonder. The oils, the candles, the romantic ballad…

Was his friend trying to tell him something?

It was time for Geralt to test the waters as it was. He trod the water with his hand, gently splashing to the beat of Dandelion’s song. Normally, he would close his eyes and let the poet’s music fill the room, but instead he was mesmerised by the way Dandelion’s finger caressed the lute strings. Geralt could feel his cock harden as he pondered what other uses his friend’s delicate hands could have, the way they found their mark with such precision. The poet could make any instrument sing to the gods in his hands, Geralt was sure that he was no exception.

“Practicing your fingering?” he asked Dandelion with a tilt of his head.

The strings twanged unpleasantly, making Geralt grimace as the sound reverberated in his head. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

Geralt smirked. “On your lute.”

“Right, yes, of course,” Dandelion muttered. “I’m just trying to figure out the next verse. I could use a hand, or an ear if you’d be willing to help.”

“I have a hand you could use, or two,” Geralt muttered not really intending for Dandelion to hear him but the poet had sharp ears and he spluttered incoherently as he set down his lute.

Geralt hummed and let his hand drop beneath the water, stroking his cock lazily. He wasn’t really chasing any real pleasure, but it was a good feeling, sending warmth across his skin. The bath, the candles, the song, they had to mean something even in Dandelion’s subconsciousness. The man was an insatiable flirt, and yet never seemed to notice when others’ affections were cast upon him, not unless it was blunt in its honesty.

So Geralt would be blunt.

He closed his eyes as he continued to stroke the length of his cock, the motion causing the water to ripple slightly, but not yet enough to draw Dandelion’s attention. The poet was too busy wittering on about his rhymes, only noticing when Geralt’s breath hitched as he cupped his balls.

“Geralt?”

“Dandelion,” Geralt grunted softly, his pleasure beginning to build from a warm ember to a roaring blaze that burned through him. The poet’s cornflower blue eyes were on him, dark and hungry. His cheeks were flushed rosy, and it seemed his dear friend was finally catching onto what was happening.

“I- I can leave, my friend, if you would prefer…”

“Stay,” Geralt insisted. “This not what you had in mind?”

“Well,” Dandelion laughed. “I had hoped, but I never thought it would actually happen, and well, really I thought it might take a little more convincing. Who knew all I needed all along were a few cheap candles?”

“Just get in the bath, Dandelion,” Geralt growled.

“Okay, okay,” Dandelion said with a roll of his eyes but shrugged out of his robe, allowing Geralt to admire his slender form. The poet’s cock remained soft as he stepped into the water. “So… how long?”

“Hmm?”

“How long have I been more than just a friend to you, Geralt?” Dandelion asked, settling into the water with a soft moan. His hands resting on Geralt’s thighs, fingers drawing patterns on Geralt’s skin under the water.

It wasn’t an easy question to answer. Could he even pin it down? Geralt wasn’t sure.

“Hard to tell, our friendship has never exactly been normal, Dandelion,” Geralt admitted.

Dandelion laughed, leaning forward in the tub, his hands stroking up Geralt’s thigh, the movement forcing the air from Geralt’s lungs. “You know, you’re right, and I think we should celebrate.”

“Celebrate?”

“Mhmm, and how about we start with a kiss?” Dandelion winked, before falling into Geralt embrace with a splash.

[bouncingkadachi]

Blessed Rain

Summary: A Hunter’s weapon of choice says a lot about them. OR: Kyle upgrades his weaponry and gets caught red-handed in the act. Luckily (?) for him, only Tsukino seems to know exactly why he's having an emotional crisis over this.

Word count: 3,260

Note(s): set post-game

Also available on AO3!

Kyle’s had his new bow for a good couple of weeks before the feel of the limbs and the weight of the draw became comfortable enough for him to consider upgrading it. If he’s going to be injured, he reasons, he’d rather it be purely by way of monster and not because he pulls a muscle wrestling with a bow that hasn’t been properly broken in. His wallet despairs as he forks over the zenny, but this’ll hopefully let him take on some of the bigger hunts like the ones that Reverto goes on. It’ll all be worth the investment up front once he has his completely finished bow and restocked his coatings and finally drops the last of his coin on a couple new talismans.

He refuses to think about the implications of his reasoning with a literal coin, rolling it around and around his fingers as he pushes through the market throngs towards the smithy’s. Perhaps he ought to have a change of scenery—the fog-shrouded summits of Terga were said to be particularly beautiful at this time of year, and the heat in Lamure was becoming just shy of unbearable.

The final product that the blacksmith puts into his hands when he finally makes it to collect is nothing short of gorgeous. Blessed Rain is sleek where his old Rex bow was bulky, far lighter and certainly not as clunky. The upgrades on the riser gives the entire weapon a pleasant solidness in his hand, yet the delicately reinforced plating on the limbs doesn’t retract at all from its flexibility. The decorative grip protector gleams. Just looking at it makes Kyle excited to shoot.

“Bring her back if you’re finding that you need anything adjusted,” the smith tells him after Kyle’s diligently inspected every inch of the bow. “Kept the poundage the same for you, but added another inch to the draw length like you asked.”

“Thanks,” Kyle says. Eventually, he’d like to work up to the point where he can up the poundage again. Even just another five pounds would be good. He can do most of the hunts in his skill range alone now, but extra firepower would make him just that much more efficient, or that much of a better support for team hunts. 

The smith laughs when Kyle sheepishly admits this. “Well, I always like to help a Hunter improve, and you know where to find me,” he says cheerily, clapping Kyle enthusiastically on the shoulder. “Come by again anytime if you need a tune up or want to test out something new.” 

And with that, he waves Kyle away so that another Hunter can step up, holding a tired-looking sword and shield and looking equally exhausted. “Aye, rookie Hunter?” Kyle hears as he wanders off to find a more relaxed corner of the market in which to admire his new bow some more. “If you’ve got the materials I can repair and upgrade that for you.” The conversation peters out and melts into the general din of the marketplace as Kyle slips into the crowd, taking care to step out of the way of a Felyne carrying an absolutely massive basket groaning with produce. He watches the precarious load totter away, trying and failing to locate Tsukino in the brief respite the parted crowd affords him. They’d split earlier that morning and he hasn’t seen her since.

He still hasn’t managed to find even a whisker of Tsukino’s whereabouts by the time he settles into a decently quiet nook next to a stall selling all manner of spices. Pity, because the dappled light spilling through the colorful drapes of the marketplace catches so beautifully on the milky-white sheen of the bow, and he’d been looking forward to showing it to her. As a Hunter, Kyle will always care more about weapon practicality than aesthetics, but as a normal human being he certainly won’t turn down the opportunity to have both an aesthetically pleasing and perfectly functional weapon. He’s still grinning a little when he goes to strap the bow to his back, and it’s in the process of looking up that his gaze catches onto wide eyes staring plainly at him from across the street. 

He freezes, arm suspended awkwardly halfway to sheathing. His beautiful bow glints damningly in the bright Lamure sunlight as his unexpected friend wades through the throngs of people towards him, gesturing for him to stay put with a wave of her hand that really can’t be mistaken for anything other than a greeting.

“Hey,” he says cautiously and lamely when she finally reaches him. Belatedly, he remembers to lower his arm. He is momentarily thankful that she doesn’t try to reach up for his face in the Mahanan greeting, although his goodwill evaporates when she leans in to inspect his bow, body thrumming with unexplainable anticipation.

“Oh, that’s pretty,” she says finally. Kyle can’t help himself from preening just a little, shifting his grip so that she can get a better look. After all, what was the point of spending all that money and materials if there was no one to excitedly show the end product off to? Besides, it’s been a while since they last saw each other. Last he heard, she had been traveling, keen to finally see the world on her own terms and at her own pace.

“It’s fresh off an upgrade,” he answers smugly. “Easier to handle than the Rex.”

“Slightly less intimidating though,” she chimes in, and Kyle bristles, not liking where this conversation is going. And true to form, she goes in for the kill: “Mizutsune? I recognize the plating.”

Kyle can feel the flush crawling up to his ears. Logically, he knows that there’s nothing for him to be embarrassed about. It’s a mark of good smithing that one can tell at a glance which monster a weapon was inspired by, and a Mizutsune was both powerful and extremely iconic. This bow in particular had good stats and the ability to fire rapidly, which admittedly took him some time to get used to after focusing mostly on piercing shots. The paralysis coating that works so well on this bow has also already saved his skin on more than one occasion. There is little more a career Hunter can ask for out of his weapon. It’s not like he’d been heading out to Pomore Garden at any given opportunity and holding onto an increasing multitude of Mizutsune materials just because he wanted some physical reminder of what was probably the most pivotal moment of his life, something that never failed to put a very complicated and jumbled mess of emotions deep within his chest whenever he thought back to it.

He’s starting to feel very, very hot under his collar. The sun is terrible. He resolves that his next big hunt really needs to be somewhere outside of Lamure.

His friend, however, just looks more and more baffled as he launches into an unprompted defense of his newest purchase. Every time she opens her mouth, Kyle talks a little faster. Eventually, she doesn’t even bother trying to interject, which is arguably worse, because instead she just looks progressively more and more thoughtful. Kyle wished desperately for Tsukino to peel away from whatever hidey hole she was tucked in. Then, his train of thought screeches into a rude and abrupt halt.

“What,” he croaks. “What are you doing.”

One of her brows quirks up. “I sure hope your eyes are still working because that’d be a detriment to your job,” she says plainly. “What does it look like I’m doing? I promise it’s not a trick question.”

What she’s doing is holding Kyle’s hand—the one not clutching his new bow—the one that had apparently been waving about with increasing agitation as he jabbered on and on. What Kyle doesn’t understand is why. It’s not like he just did some impressive shot to give them the edge in a battle or anything else that was cool and hand-holding worthy. He’d just been yammering about bow mechanics, and maybe embarrassingly dipping into his talisman hopes and dreams. He stares a little helplessly at his trapped hand. Her kinship stone winks up at him.

“Look,” she says patiently, when it becomes very clear that Kyle is going to need a moment before he can get his brain back online. “There’s nothing wrong with a bow made from Mizutsune parts and I am the last person who will ever turn down pretty things. What I was going to say was that this is an interesting departure from your whole—” She pauses, as though looking for a specific word. “Well, your whole image as a very grown-up and serious and intimidating Hunter or whatever it was you were trying to convey with that scowl you used to like so much. And you weren’t letting me get a single word in.”

“You’re getting plenty of words in now,” Kyle scowls, just to be contrary. “And I’ve grown since then.”

“Someone’s in a mood today.” She smiles, crinkle-eyed, up at him. Kyle very seriously debates wrenching his hand out of her hold like he did the last time this happened and then pointedly doesn’t act on the impulse.

“Why’re you in Lulucion?” he asks instead with a truly remarkable level of self-restraint. “Thought you’d never want to come back again after what happened.”

She shrugs, the greatsword on her back heaving with the movement. “Guess I’ve grown too,” she says loftily, though she sobers quickly. “I was actually visiting my grandfather. He used to go back to Mahana around this time of year… he can’t do it anymore of course but I’ve got Ratha now, so I figured I could do it instead. And then I figured I’d stop by Rutoh before going home, to see Ena and Alwin and wheedle a few more stories out of them.”

She lets go of Kyle’s hand. He tries not to miss it. “Even Ratha can’t make the trip in one go, and Lulucion was closest, so we’re stopping to rest. I dropped by the Scrivener’s Lodge earlier because I was hoping Reverto could give me a few weapon pointers as I’ve saved up just about enough for an upgrade, but they told me that he was out on an urgent mission and wouldn’t be back for a while.”

“Oh,” Kyle says, a little stung that she hadn’t come specifically to see him first, out of all the Hunters in the city. He’s slightly mollified when she grins at him, though.

“And then I met Tsukino by the cannons. She said I could find you here, so here I am.”

“I don’t know anything about greatswords,” Kyle blurts out, and immediately wants to kick himself. She blinks at him, and then bursts into laughter.

“I was just going to ask the smith,” she wheezes when she’s got herself somewhat back under control. “Can’t I see a friend just to say hi to him anymore?” Kyle stares very intently down at some of the finer detailing on his bow.

“Where is my Palico anyway?” he finally settles on, falling into a tried and true grumble. “I haven’t seen her all day.”

She waves her hand vaguely in the air. “Navirou said something about getting donuts. I wasn’t really listening.”

But there was a donut stand right here in the marketplace, Kyle wanted to cry out. He should have seen Tsukino by now if they’d really been going to buy snacks! And how was it possible that he had missed Navirou in his entirety, between the Felyne’s penchant for wearing ridiculous little outfits and his inability to shut up?

“Why? You have a hunt you need to run off to?” 

“Yes,” Kyle says hotly. It’s a lie. He’d accepted a subquest that wouldn’t depart until later that evening for the sole purpose of testing out his new weapon in a relatively stress-free environment. Before that, he’d just planned on hitting up the shooting range in the training arena to break in the new string. His schedule was very, very free. Tsukino was perfectly aware of that.

His eyes widened. Tsukino had been with him on every excursion into the Gardens. She went where he did (usually), and it’s not like Kyle would ever begrudge her a visit home. But she’d been with him every step of every single Mizutsune job he’d ever taken—had watched him craft traps when he needed to capture and had kept watch for opportunists hoping to sneak up as he’d carved. She’d been the one who’d recommended the spinner for all the excess purplefur he was ending up with. At first, he’d simply thought that she’d wanted the thread to mend some of her own items, or to send back home to her brethren, but instead she’d tucked each skein of vibrant, silk-soft thread into the bottom of his pouch with gentle paws, cryptically talking about how strong a material it was, and how nice it looked when woven. Kyle has never touched a loom in his life, but now he’s looking at someone who he definitely knows has.

His stomach drops. Hadn’t Tsukino looked particularly smug ever since he’d lingered on the blueprints for Blessed Rain after getting a look at its stats and required materials?

“She got me,” he groans. His friend just looks at him bemusedly, though perhaps with a touch of wariness at his ferocious frown. Hastily, he tacks on: “It’s nothing. I, uh—I just remembered that I needed to tell Tsukino something. Important. Later, when I find her again.”

“Alright,” she says, though she doesn’t quite look like she believes him. “A quest’s a quest, though, so I won’t keep you here. The bow really is pretty though. I know I just said it doesn’t match your image and all but I really don’t think you can go wrong with something you like. You’ve got the skills for it, anyway.”

“Thanks,” he croaks, feeling a little overwhelmed. He manages two whole steps out of the nook before he pauses, worrying at his lower lip. “Actually,” he says sharply, spinning around on his heel and nearly causing his friend to startle right into a spice display. “How long are you staying for?”

“However long it’ll take to upgrade my sword, I guess,” she says after she collects herself, the words lilting into a question. “Three days or so, I guess?” She skirts nervously away from the glaring vendor, careful not to overbalance on her greatsword.

“Cool,” Kyle says with a nod, steeling himself. “Great, even. Look, how about this. Your last visit to Lulucion was terrible—” an understatement, “—so when I get back from my hunt I’ll show you some of the better sights Lulucion has to offer. There’s a hole in the wall that I think you’ll like. Dad used to take me after hunts—they grill really nice queen shrimp. And the parapets—you can climb them, and they’ve got all these little carvings in the stone that you can search for like a scavenger hunt.” He’s keenly aware that he’s rambling again, but she looks interested, so he barrels on. “I’ll come pick you up tomorrow just as soon as I can get a nap in. We can stay in the city or take Ratha out to the Barrens, down by the water. Just make a day of it.” He’s pretty certain that he looks at her with something akin to hope as she considers. It feels like a lifetime before she finally comes to a decision. 

“I want to take Ratha out in the evening,” she says finally. “I don’t want him to be cooped up too long here ever again.”

“Yeah,” Kyle breathes out, the word rushing out of him in a flood of relief. “Yeah, I can work around that.” She beams at him.

“I’ll look forward to it,” she says, sincere and looking more than a little surprised despite herself at the prospect of looking forward to doing anything in Lulucion. “I’m staying at the inn closest to the stables. Pretty sure I’m the only Rider there currently so they’ll know who I am.” Kyle nods, and lets himself get his hand squeezed again, though not without her hands first hovering in an instinctual bid for his cheeks before she remembers herself.

“Good luck on your hunt. If I see Tsukino I’ll let her know you’re looking for her.”

“She’ll show up in due time,” he mutters darkly. “I’ll let you know if Reverto gets back early or if he’s just been loafing around this entire time. For your next upgrade or whatever.” She laughs, bright, and then slips off into the crowd to wrestle her way into the smithy’s queue. Kyle is left staring in her wake before his gaze is drawn back down to his bow.

“This is all your fault,” he tells it. Predictably, it doesn’t answer. Also predictably, Tsukino takes that exact moment to drop down from seemingly nowhere. 

“I didn’t know we had another job lined up,” the Felyne says delicately, carefully brushing crumbs off of her coat. Kyle groans, sheathing his weapon.

“Don’t tease me,” he huffs. “I’m going to the shooting range. Are you coming?”

“Hmm,” says Tsukino. “I suppose I can spare the time.”

“Of course you can spare the time!” Kyle hisses, indignant. “You just spent the day eating donuts and eavesdropping!” He pointedly doesn’t look towards the smithy, where his friend was patiently browsing the display while another Hunter was getting their hammer looked at.

“One must always be prepared with the latest intel,” Tsukino says mildly. “I’m glad the upgrade went well.” 

“It’s got good stats,” Kyle protests weakly in what is quickly becoming a tired argument. “The rapid shots have been going very well. And I had a surplus of Mizutsune parts.”

 “Yes,” his hunting partner agrees readily enough. “Have you thought of what you’re going to do with the thread?”

“This conversation is finished,” Kyle says abruptly, making a very determined push towards the market’s exit. “Either come or don’t, so long as we meet at the gate for tonight’s hunt.”

Tsukino looks at him with exasperated fondness, which is frankly a little insulting, but readily falls into step next to him. Kyle wonders how many rounds he’s going to have to shoot in order to clear his head again and rid it of thoughts of Hazepetal Garden or Mizutsune or high-grade thread that he’ll never use himself. He’ll examine them again someday—because he’s not a coward—but that day is most certainly not today.

He does his rounds in the training arena and marvels at the way the string slides off his fingers with a satisfying twang, even though it’ll still be a good few days before it’s fully broken in to his liking. Tsukino’s saved him a donut, the cakey sweet sticky with honey and practically melting in his mouth. He’s got some free time even after stocking up for the evening hunt, so he takes a few minutes to browse the quest board, taking careful note of the jobs that were situated near the Harzgai Rocky Hill, or the ones from further afield in Alcala that’ll take him closer to Rutoh. And when he leaves the city, he pointedly doesn’t look up at the familiar shape circling in the dusky sky, even as he knows that they’ll surely see the last rays of the setting sun winking off of the plates of his bow like a beacon.

[crossingbard]

A Chance Encounter

Summary:

Fresh-faced adventurer Dorym Aurelius has come to the realization that he had not done nearly enough research on Ul’dah. Unbearable climate and strange residents, he wonders if this was the right choice.

Notes:

Ao3 Link. We are starting our hero’s story just before the events of the MSQ. He is a wildwood Elezen, and at present a thaumaturge.

------

Dorym Aurelius walked the market streets of Ul’dah, thanking the twelve as the sun dipped below the horizon, taking with it the worst of the excruciating heat. All the research in the world on this place could not prepare him for these conditions.

He was positive that no one was meant to live like this.

Yet, despite all forces working against it, Ul’dah remained one of the most prosperous city-states in Eorzea. It was little wonder why a budding adventurer would choose this place. Especially someone like Dorym, who hardly had the gil to pay the fare, let alone expenses upon arriving. Jobs were hard to come by too. Ul’dah may have been prosperous, but its people could be pretty cruel to those who were not from there.

His copper plait bounced lightly on his shoulder as he “window” shopped the open-air markets, taking note of which vendors sold goods that he would find useful…when he had the money. But, for now, his best bet was focusing on a place to buy a meal for the night.

As he rounded a corner to head up towards the Quicksand when he found himself being slammed into by someone.

Dorym stumbled back, frustration flickering across his features as the stranger apologized, “I—ah, sorry. I appear to hit a bit of a scrape and—” he looked the Elezen up and down, “You’ll do perfectly, actually.” The next thing Dorym knew, he was pulled into the shadows of a staircase as the stranger whispered, “Pretend to embrace me, and I’ll pay you. No funny business on my end, I swear on my life.”

Dorym blinked once, twice, before looking over this man himself. He was decently tall for a Hyur, but even at Dorym’s short stature, he still stood nearly a head over him. Was his hair ash-blonde? Silver? The twilit sky made it hard to tell. Handsome and offering to pay him? Strictly for pretending to embrace him? Well, that was the most straightforward job Dorym could think to take.

The stranger started getting antsy as he watched the taller man look on in confusion. Before he could give up and try and find a new place to hide, Dorym wrapped an arm around him dramatically and placed a thumb over his lips, pressing his lips to the thumb, separating them only by an ilm. He then pushed the body against the stone wall, now cool to the touch in these late hours as he shielded the stranger with his own body.

Even though he did not find it remotely possible, Dorym found himself getting even warmer. Ul’dah was a desert, no water for miles, but the man before him smelled of an ocean. His hands were calloused, and his arms were strong, but his face, so close to his own, was soft. So what kind of scrape did he get into that made him ask a stranger to hold him in the shadows like a lovestruck teen?

It was not much longer before the sound of footsteps and voices could be heard, and the hyur threw his arms around the Dorym’s neck, going full into the dramatics. When they faded, he tapped his gloved hand to the taller man’s chest, giving him the cue to back away. The stranger’s face seemed red too, likely from the running and stress, Dorym decided. He ran his hands through his hair and said, “Sorry about that, friend. You must not be from around here; you’re dressed awfully for the heat. Maybe invest in some looser clothing? Regardless, know that I appreciate the assistance!” He grabbed a handful of gil, then the Elezen man’s hand, placing the coin in it. “Though, next time, you need not make it so formal. It doesn’t have to be theater if you don’t want it to be.” He gave the taller man a wink, and as quickly as he appeared, he left.

Dorym’s face flushed deeply at the suggestion. How dare he? He was the one who wanted a performance! And now he was criticizing him for giving what he’d requested? He stared out to the open street where the man disappeared into the crowd of people. He didn’t even get a look at the people who chased him.

Ul’dah was quite strange indeed.

He looked at the gil and stared agape at the amount.

“Invest in some looser clothing,” he said.

There was enough here to do that and pay for food and board for the next two days. Maybe Dorym should consider taking up a career in the theater if it paid that well. His expression then shot up as he realized something.

He never got the man’s name.

[honeypirate]

You write the characters of Fire Force so good omg I am extremely weak and soft for these QwQ can I please request either an imagine or headcanon of where Viktor has a S/O who is typically more self-confident, relaxed/teasing person until Viktor does anything remotely affectionate then S/O just turns into a bright red stuttering mess. They absolutely adore the affection, they're just easily embarrassed with things like this

Okay Okay alright alright cool cool cool

I had fun with this!

I’m glad you like how I write and thank you thank you for this request I hope you like it because it ran away from me and this is how it turned out lol

Viktor Licht x Easily Flustered reader (I went Fem but let me know if you want me to write a different one that’s GN! ❤️)

Viktor I think he’s so goofy and funny I adore him

I think he’d be his normal self around you 90% of the time

Okay more like 80%

but he’d wait for the right time to whisper something in your ear

or slip you a note at work

that makes your heart race and your cheeks flush.

Which isn’t hard to do but he likes to have the element of surprise.

So when you least expect it,

“you look beautiful”

or “your butt looks juicy in that orange jumpsuit” (god idk why I even wrote this my brain went vrrr and couldn’t think of more weird compliments.)

now I don’t know if he’d say something exactly like that (I don’t put it past him)

but I do think he’d say original weird things occasionally just to see your shocked eyes and hear your sweet chuckle

And the way you stutter through syllables before you say “Viktor” and slap his chest playfully.

Bro.

He just loves you okay?

And he loves how sweet and flustered you are just for him.

He sees you confidently tease the others

And Damn you look good doing so

but he knows he can unravel that with just a few well worded phrases.

and sees your self confidence which he ADORES.

It was something he first noticed about you, one of the first things he realized he liked about you

When he first met you, when he came to the eighth, you couldn’t help the warm feeling your heart got whenever you were around him

and he loved the way you’d chuckle at his jokes

he started making more jokes just to hear you laugh.

Then he wanted to make you blush.

Then he realized he wanted to kiss you every time you blushed because of him,

and every time you were teasing the others, when he saw your confidence in your job,

mans just wanted to kiss you.

Physical touch and quality time are his love languages (I personally feel this man is touch starved because he’s so invested in his work that he just pretends and convinces himself he doesn’t care) so that’s how he began to show you he was into you

he’d tuck your hair behind your ear and grin when the familiar flush would appear

or he’d help you with your paperwork just to talk to you and be next to you.

The more time he spent with you the more comfortable you felt around him

but every time you tried to tease him he’d watch your cheeks flush and he couldn’t help but smile.

He asked you out for the first time and you choked on the water you were drinking.

Bad timing on his part which he apologized for but you accepted

because it’s Viktor! How could you say no! He makes your heart warm! he’s so sweet on you!

So now it’s been three months and he’s trying to figure out how to tell you he loves you, he has the perfect idea, he’ll tell you after work tonight, with the perfect moment.

“Oh shush Arthur, you cheated. and you Shinra, you know he cheated so his win means nothing. Now go, both of you, we all have paperwork and no time for this” they both go to their desks, mumbling stuff under their breaths but not continuing their fight anymore. It was a stupid bet about flipping a coin into a cup across the room, you didn’t really understand since you just showed up but you knew Arthur’s tell, he said he didn’t cheat and you knew he was lying by the flick of his hair.

You sigh and finish your cup of coffee before heading to the pot in the corner to refill it. Viktor, who was watching from the doorway, comes over and you refill his cup with a small smile as you make eye contact. “I love it when you do that” he says quietly and you chuckle “do what?” You cock your head and he gives you a lopsided grin “put the kids in their place” he leans in to your ear “it’s kinda hot” he whispers and then pulls back to get a get look at your red blushing face, a lopsided grin on his lips “t-thanks” you manage to stutter out, your heart racing and thumping in your ears as he chuckles and kisses the top of your head before making his way back to his lab.

“You’ve been dating him for what.. three months?” Arthur asks from his paperwork when you sit at your desk “yeah. Why?” He looks up at you with a smirk “and he, Viktor Licht, still makes you flustered?” You glare “oh shut up Arthur” you say and smile sweetly, compared with the fire in your eyes it sends a shiver down his spine “actually. Would you rather I just tell you why he makes me flustered? What he said to me… about how-“ you started to tell him but he plugged his ears as Shinra started screaming. “NO NO NO Arthur SHUT UP. She’s flustered WITH HIM but you KNOW SHE HAS NO PROBLEM TALKING TO US!” Arthur sulks as you chuckle, tucking your hair that fell from your pony back behind your ear.

Before you can finish your paperwork you’re called out to help put some infernals to rest. You were exhausted, you smelled like smoke, and you weren’t up for anything special, he could see the bags under your eyes. So he kissed your forehead and sent you off to a shower, moving his confession to another night.

You saw the emotion in his eyes, something was wrong, but he played it off. So you thought you’d do something special for him. After your shower you swung by his room, walking in when he doesn’t answer your knocks and remembering he had dinner duty. You make your way through the empty room, carefully stepping across the papers strewn about. Sure, you didn’t know what they were, but he certainly did. When you find what you’re looking for you grin and carefully make your way out of his room.

“Psst Hey” you whisper as you stuck your head through the door of the kitchen. He turns around and cocks his head, the apron on his body said ‘kiss the cook’

“Hey sweetheart” he makes this face, one that you’ve seen a lot, one that says ‘what is this beautiful girl doing now?’ “Meet me where we had our second date” you grin and slip out before popping your head back “and do you think you could maybe..” he laughs “bring some food? I’m on it, love” he smiles as he hears your giggles as you walk down the hallway. Maybe he won’t have to wait after all.

ꕥ(Twenty minutes later)ꕥ

“What is this?” His voice was shocked as he stuck his head out the window, looking out at the scene unfolding before his eyes on the roof. soft music playing that he realized was his favorite song, blankets, pillows, a couple candles and you kneeling in the middle in one of his sweatshirts. You were an angel. He loved you so much.

“Remember coming up here to watch fireworks? I know it’s only been three months and that’s not a long time but... well.. when we got back you seemed a little down so I wanted to do something nice but also easy since tonight took a lot out of us” you cheeks flush from feeling embarrassed with doing something semi-big but keeping your eyes on his “So I got your favorite record and my record player, all the blankets and pillows I own, a couple of your sweatshirts, candles, aaaaand” you pull out a bottle of wine you were saving once he settles into the blankets next to you. He leans against the side of the house and he gazes down at you, a bowl of food in each hand.

“You did all of this for me?” He whispers and you nod, your blush fully covering your face as you scoot closer into his side, placing your hands on his knee, leaning up and kissing the corner of his mouth “I love you, Viktor” you whisper, looking down at your hands, butterflies in your chest and your heart thumping in your ears again.

“W-what did you say?” He whispers and you feel your heart drop “I- I said” he shoves the bowls of food out where they won’t be kicked and he turns to sit on his knees in front of you, cupping your cheeks and turning your face up to meet his eye. Your breath hitches at his expression, excited, soft, sweet. “Tell me” he whispers and his thumbs brush against your skin and send goosebumps down the back of your neck.

“I- I said” you swallow hard and pull back your confidence from earlier, gently taking a hold of his wrists, “I said; I love you Viktor” you watch his cheeks flush as he sighs, a peaceful look in his eyes “I love you, so much” he presses his lips to yours softly, warming up your cold ones from sitting outside waiting for him.

Look all I’m saying is Viktor is sweet and goofy and loving and he would he would love to watch your cheeks blush when he’d say sweet things and compliment you

but he’d also want to make sure certain things are perfect, like telling you he loved you. Or your first time wink wink together.

Certain perfect moments that tie together all the goofy, sweet, moments.

The moments where he makes your face flush bright enough to be compared to an infernals flame,

the time you stutter through words after he whispers something in your ear,,,,

but who is he,

or I,

kidding anyone?

Every moment is perfect with you.

Even if they’re hard.

Even that time you tried to tidy the papers in his room and messed everything in his system up.

Or the way you tried to fix it by making the papers rain down around you both, making him laugh before you hugged him and apologized for messing up his system and really helping him fix it again.

Oh God.

Holy Sol

He knows there’s nothing he believes in more than you, more than the love you share, and the fact that his favorite color is the pink dusting your cheeks. The pink that is just for him

[hetaliafucker]

Prompt: usuk, Arthur's the captain of a merchant ship and Al works on the docks!

Ask and ye shall receive 😌

Words: 1459

For Arthur Kirkland, the sea had always been a siren. Ever since he was a boy living near the beaches of England, the waves had entranced him, wind whipping through his sandy coloured hair as he stared out at the tides. The smell of salt thick in the air, the feeling of his cheeks turning rosy due to the expected ocean cold even on the hottest of summer days. The burn of said salty air travelling to his lungs; the thrill of it.

Convincing dear old dad to turn his business into an international trade was hard but, by God, was it worth it.

When Arthur had gone to him at sixteen with piles of papers and research, after a decade and a half yearning for the waves, he’d never expected his father would say yes. Who would send their teenager to the sea, so much of which was unknown? No one with sense. But, Arthur had inherited the Kirkland stubbornness and, after hours of drilling his tiring father, he’d finally been given the go ahead to take hold of some of his father’s stocks, invest in some ships, and turn their family trading business global.

His father seemed to relax a little more when their profits had doubled in the first six months alone. Then tripled the next year, and the year after that, and so on. Eventually, his father’s attitude was completely shifted. The teenage son he’d sent out to sea had grown up. Now, he claimed with upmost pride that his son, Captain Arthur Kirkland, was an inspiring and hardworking young entrepreneur, just as he himself had been. Arthur was successful. He certainly didn’t have a bad word to say about him when asked by friends and rivals alike, or the daughters of other wealthy businessmen or even nobles. Arthur had a bright future, was as quick with his wit and gentlemanly charm as he was with transactions, and he certainly had inherited the handsome Kirkland genes, too. Oh, Mr Kirkland was sure Arthur was to bring forth even greater fortune. Not a bad word to say at all.

Little did he know, however- Arthur did not care for the money- Well, not a lot. Or women. Not that his father needed to know that. The power was nice, freeing, captivating- Being able to tell an entire crew to jump and each one of them, in earnest, would say ‘how high’? They would lick his very boots if he deemed it necessary. But what he really cared for was moments like this.

This, where Arthur stands on the mast of his ship, looking up at the sun, hand only just covering his eyes from the brightness. His grin is wide, putting dimples into his slightly freckled cheeks. He looks over the ocean view just as they’re sailing towards a group of islands. Arthur has been here a couple times before, but it was certainly always a sight. The Caribbean had always felt like a second home- The warm climate and clear aqua coloured waters didn’t hurt either.

It doesn’t take long to pull into one of the shipyards. Arthur waits until the last of his crew with duties to see to on land are off the boat before making his descent, dropping with a thud onto the wooden deck. He smiles again at the sound of bustling streets admits crashing waves on golden beaches, the squawk of birds soaring over ships and palm trees.

The buckles of his boots clink as he strides down the boat ramp, pausing at the base to look over at the crowded shipyard. People scurry left and right, some moving cargo, some preparing to board fishing boats, some surveying the various treasures lying amongst the merchant stalls that litter the docks.

One of the stalls catches the Captain’s eyes. Not for the treasures, though. At least not the inanimate kind. This treasure was a man- A man who certainly passed as a treasure in Arthur’s fine opinion. His hair was as golden as the coin Arthur spent his days collecting, eyes as blue as sapphires in the finest of jewellery, and his complexion a lovely bronze colour- All gold and jewels and metal. A remarkable find indeed. If people were the treasures that pirates and such sought, this man would be a pirate’s wet dream. Well, Arthur wasn’t a pirate, but he was a Captain and, surely, didn’t Captains get the best treasures?

He saunters over, lets his finger caress over some of the items on the stall, though his eyes are busy analysing the hint of muscle under a tight-fitted shirt, upper arms plentiful with thew and flexing with every move the seller makes. They lock eyes and Arthur turns his gaze down, picking out a ring. It’s made from gold, encrusted with two gems in the middle: a sapphire on top, an emerald on the bottom. There’s a second one next to it, this one with the gems switched in position, the emerald above, the sapphire below. Arthur’s never thought blue and green worked well together, but perhaps he should start to- They did compliment one another. Similar, but different enough to each shine brightly in their own right. The thought was…Nice, freeing, captivating. Familiar and new all at once. Arthur was usually a man of lust, but perhaps love was just as powerful. Well, it’s too early to say love, but certainly the possibility of love at least. Now that was intriguing- Worth exploring, was it not? Any good Captain explored the unknown, and Arthur was not just a good Captain, he was a successful one.

“They come as a pair,” The merchant says. He reaches over picking up the second ring. His thumb runs over the gems, eyeing the emerald intently. “I think sapphire would suit you.”

“And emerald, you.” Arthur replies.

The man’s lips curl upwards slightly. “I’m not the one buying.”

“A shame, really. You’d look good with green on you.”

The merchant laughs, makes sure Arthur’s eyes lock with his again by tilting his own head down into the shorter man’s line of sight playfully. “You English?”

“What gave it away?” Arthur’s own mouth curls upwards. “What about you? Where’s your accent from?”

“The New World.”

“Oh,” Arthur looks intrigued. “I’ve been a couple times, haven’t heard an accent like yours yet.”

The merchant shrugs. “Should’ve met me sooner then.” His grin is confident, and he leans forward against the table. “I’m Alfred, Alfred F. Jones.”

“F?”

“Freedom.”

Arthur pauses, eyeing him. “Freedom?”

“My folks were the kind to make a statement.” He shrugs again.

Arthur makes a sound halfway between a scoff and a chuckle. “I see…Arthur Kirkland.” The Brit raises his hand, Alfred takes it firmly- Strong grip, lovely fingers.

“Like the trading company?”

“Precisely. My apologies, perhaps I should’ve been clearer- I’m Captain Arthur Kirkland, of the Kirkland Trading Co.”

“Oooo, Captain? Fancy.”

“And you, what do you do?”

“Usually help the ships dock and sail. I’m only on this stall to fill in for a friend- They’re uh- Busy at the moment. Shouldn’t be gone much longer, though.”

“Busy how?”

“They’re being visited by a gentleman.”

“The owner of this stall is a woman?”

“No, a man.”

“I see,” Arthur hums, looking around them. Everyone's far too busy to be listening in. "Do you have any gentlemanly friends?"

"No," Alfred eyes trail over Arthur, hardly discreet at all. "But you seem like a gentleman."

"I am- Both literally and...Metaphorically speaking."

"Good to know," Alfred reaches forward and takes the ring from Arthur. His hand brushes against the Brit's and his fingers truly are lovely. He stares straight at Arthur, eyes piercing. "Like I said, my friend should be back soon. If you're interested in the merchandise, I'd be happy to deliver it to you later when I've spoken to the owner."

"I certainly am interested in the merchandise." The corner of Arthur's mouth tugs upwards into a smirk. "I suppose I'll see you this evening."

"I suppose you will." Alfred grins, winking. Arthur's not so sure his heart doesn't stop at that. He clears his throat, moving from the table.

"I do actually want the rings."

"Of course, Captain." God- Alfred was as teasing as he was confident, apparently- Cocky but in a glorious way that had Arthur stirring. The word fits his mouth beautifully, rolls from his tongue and drips from his lips. Arthur wonders how it would sound without such confidence, when Alfred was desperate and begging. That was a wonderful thought indeed.

Arthur bids a sweet goodbye and walks back towards his ship, a slight bounce in his step as he eagerly waits for the sun to set. What a beautiful evening it was going to be.

[trifle-of-doom]

The Hawk X Demetri Manifesto

Okay, here is the thing. Despite being well past my teens, there's a particular ship of Cobra Kai that has drawn my attention, this ship being Hawk/Eli x Demetri. When I first watched the show, I was actually more invested in the adult characters storylines than the teens. I immediately rooted for Johnny and Carmen, and I was always hoping for more interactions between them. But then I saw episode 2x05, in which the atmosphere between the Binary Brothers becomes way more dense, and that's when I started to see some potential for them. Not because I'm a deranged person who fosters abusive relationships, but because I immediately caught the hurt/comfort dynamic of the duo, which is something that works really well when it comes to fictional relationships. However, it wasn't until 3x10 that I said, "Ok, that's official, I need to see more of these two! I totally support them!" And I was quite surprised to find a fairly large amount of people who are very committed to this pairing, to the point it's caught the attention of the screenwriters/producers as well. Honestly, I don't know if the showrunners will ever have the guts to make them an official couple, and chances are their supporters will have to keep reading between the lines of their bromance, but in any case, here is my take on why Hawk/Eli x Demetri is an option worth to be considered.

#1 - The Bromance

If there's something that many years of navigating the Internet taught me, is that the main driving factor for fan-made ships is the presence of either a solid relationship based on mutual brotherly love or a bitter rivalry that may or may not flow into hate/obsession. If you consider anime fandoms, there are thousand examples that fit into either of these categories: Yugi and Jonouchi from the Yu-Gi-Oh series (yes, that's how old I am), Yugi and Kaiba from Yu-Gi-Oh, Sakuragi and Rukawa from Slam Dunk, Light and L from Death Note, etc. And our Hawk and Demetri fit into both categories. When we first see them, they are the stereotypical nerdy friends (possibly childhood friends?) sitting at the losers' table, who have no one else but each other. When Eli is at his most sensitive and fragile, you can tell he feels comfortable being with Demetri by the genuine smile he has on his face as Demetri is joking with Miguel at the canteen table. Through his sarcasm, the mouthy kid acts as a catalyst to deviate the attention from Eli, speaking for him, reprimanding Johnny when he makes fun of his lip and trying to make him feel safe. Besides, you can see a certain degree of frustration in Demetri when Kyler and his gang are harassing Eli, and he's unable to do anything to defend him. And they even have a jingle for their friendship with a robot dance, I mean, how cute is that? But of course, a solid friendship between two helpless nerdy guys is not enough to spark a ship to be rooting for. In order for the magic to happen, another key ingredient is needed, i.e. a little bit of angst. Which brings us straight to the next point.

#2 - The Angst (aka the Hurt/Comfort Dynamic)

Even though I never liked the Twilight saga or any similar urban fantasy young adult works, I can easily see where the appeal comes from; the attraction to a charming, dangerous person who could either protect you from any harm or crush you like grape. Although with different franchises, I wasn't immune to the bad boy trope either (Yes, I'm looking at you, my teenage self drooling over Grimmjow from Bleach). If we can appreciate the genuine, brotherly friendship between nerdy Eli and Demetri, the shift that Eli makes as he transitions into Hawk and becomes more aggressive and dominant gives their relationship a totally different flavor. Attrition sparks a certain tension that, in the viewer's eyes, could either flow into a brawl or into passion.

During the mall fight, Demetri comes to the realization that his former best friend is actually someone who can crush him like grape. We see Hawk intentionally harming him for the first time, and Demetri's heartbreaking expression as he drops the line: "You'd actually hurt me?" And if that line gave us a pang in our hearts when we first watched Season 2, imagine rewatching it now that we know what happens in Season 3. Demetri is chased down the mall, running for his life, and then he's locked in a grip, as his best friend menacingly advances towards him. Demetri appears as the damsel in distress, however his friend is not the one who will fight to protect him, but rather his tormentor.

During the party at Moon's, Demetri manages to briefly go through Hawk's mask and reach out to Eli, thanks to a casual conversation about Dr Who. But then the beer incident happens, and Demetri defends himself with the only weapon he has – his loudmouth. The situation is reversed, and for a brief moment, he gets to be the dominant one as he discloses all Eli's most intimate secrets. Demetri is now actively contributing to the Hurt/Comfort dynamic; he's no longer just a target, but he's doing his part to enlarge that gaping hole that has formed between them. And Hawk didn't take it well.

From this moment on, Demetri becomes a sort of obsession to Hawk, who hunts him down the school, teasing him and taunting him sadistically, like a serial killer from a horror movie, during the big fight. Of course, in real life, this would be completely insane, and the police/a social assistant/psychiatrist should be called, but in ShipLand, these situations are pure gold. Okay, we get it, Hawk wants to get revenge for the humiliation at the party, and he wants to crush that nerd part of himself he sees in Demetri, but he does it with such an intensity that it borders on ridiculous. It's like this is his twisted way to acknowledge Demetri's presence. Eventually, Hawk ends up smashed into the trophy case, and I confess I felt a little disappointed when Demetri broke that hug to give Hawk a roundhouse kick. I mean, it was a great comeback, but I was sincerely hoping for a "No hard feelings man, let's get outta here!" scenario.

Getting back to the sick and twisted way Hawk acknowledges Demetri's presence, he destroys his science project after he got jealous due to him being confident in his nerd self and laughing around with his ex girlfriend (whom the writers insist he still has a crush on). Speaking of Moon, I have a feeling she likes Hawk mostly based on his badass appearance. Remember when she goes "I like this (mohawk) and I love these (muscles), but I'm not dating a bully"?

Then the football match happens. Okay, let's break this down. Demetri trips Hawk and acts all sassy, and a fellow Cobra Kai is immediately ready to take him down, but Hawk stops him. "Fight smart, he says". Too bad that literally 5 seconds earlier he had shoved a kid to the ground just because his ex girlfriend (again, duuuh~) ignored him when he winked at her. And then, as he's trying to intercept the ball, BANG, Hawk hits Demetri, sending him to the ground, pretending it was an accident. So, what does this tell us? That Hawk has some serious anger management issues? Yeah sure, but also that he cares about fighting smart only as long as it serves as an excuse to leave Demetri for him, because he's his designated target. Again, this is all but romantic, and it doesn't necessarily have to be interpreted as him lusting after his friend, but it's undeniable that this dynamic offers a lot of ship fuel.

The arm breaking thing is just too painful to even analyze. We see a completely helpless Demetri begging for mercy to his ex best friend, who has made No Mercy his life motto. And that scream, oh that scream. All I wanted to see was Hawk realizing what he had done and throwing himself on his knees while begging for forgiveness. But I'm glad that at least we get to see he feels awful for what he's done, and I like to think that, as he got home, Eli cried out all the tears he had in his body thinking about poor Demetri at the hospital, with a swollen broken arm, all because of him. Of all the situations, this is undoubtedly the most deranged and extreme, and if something like this happened in real life, the wrongdoer would deserve to be punished and would definitely need to be sent to therapy. But in ShipLand, this opens the road to many, many different scenarios, in which the bully understands his mistakes and shifts back to the good side, or the two share a tender moment after they reconcile, or the traumatized character has to to learn to trust the other one again, or the bully becomes overprotective of his former victim, etc.

#3 - A Rewarding Reconciliation

Finally, we come to the reconciliation, in which Hawk makes his heel-to-face turn. While we've seen him torn with doubt for an entire season about his sensei's teachings, his actions and the people he wants to surround himself with, the key factor that drives Hawk's redemption is the sight of his best friend being held down for him to beat. And with an epic stunt and his awesome KEEEH screech, Hawk jumps to the rescue of his friend. Like many of us, Demetri thought this was still part of the "Only I Can Torment Him" dynamic I discussed earlier, as he steps backwards a little concerned, but then he understands that action was actually meant to save him, and the two begin to fight side by side, in sync, watching each other's back. You can see Demetri's eyes sparkling at the thought of having his friend back.

Also, not only Demetri stands up to alpha bitch Tory in defense of Eli, but he also speaks for his friend when he's faltering, just like he used to. So kudos for Demetri.

#4 - The Red Oni, Blue Oni Dynamic

Binary Brothers are two sides of the same coin and complete each other with opposite character traits, visually expressed by the color red and the color blue. Being the color red typically associated with violence, rage, passion and irrationality, as opposed to blue, which is associated with calmness, melancholy and rationality, red is clearly the dominant color. Again, this opens many interesting scenarios for shippers.

#5 - Body Language

Besides the situations I described above, which may or may not be read from a romantic/attraction standpoint, there are also a collection of small gestures I noticed when rewatching the series with a more attentive look on their relationship.

- Demetri's heart-broken expression when Eli shamefully covers his lip during the anti-bullying announcement.

- The smile Demetri gives when Hawk responds "Hell yeah!" after Aisha proposes to crash Yasmin's party, implying he's learning to embrace this new wild side of his best friend

- The astonished look with which Demetri watches Hawk at the tournament and the way he's pissed no one knows his real name.

- How deeply hurt Demetri is when Hawk belittles him by saying: "Five against three. More like two and a half." He even tries to reply, but he's caught so off guard that words die in his throat.

- How Demetri takes a step towards Hawk during the mall fight, before Sam makes him back off, and how sadly he looks at Hawk's nearly unconscious body after Robby defeated him.

- How Demetri smiles and nods when he briefly connects with Eli at Moon's party, despite the mall incident.

- How Hawk watches Demetri juggle with the cleaning product from behind his bike helmet (how did he stuff the mohawk in there by the way)?

- Hawk's psychotic/sadistic faces when he smells Demetri's blood, and how he likes to hunt him down like he's his prey.

- Hawk's secret impulse to comfort Demetri after the arm breaking (I hope you get nightmares of Demetri's howl of pain for the rest of your life, Hawk).

- The way Hawk twitches his upper lip when he sees his friend Demetri in danger.

- How Hawk and Demetri are so absorbed in their new-found friendship, that they're caught off guard, and Demetri swings Hawk to allow him to deliver a kick using their handshake as a lever. And how they keep fighting together, shaking each other's hands even when they're out of focus and the attention is on Miguel vs. Kyler.

- How they're standing so close at Miyagi Do, in comparison with the other Red/Blue partners.

In conclusion, this kind of relationships are engaging and entertaining to watch, and they make us wish the best for the characters. They make us hope that, in the end, as Miguel puts it, love really conquers all (and what is friendship if not a form of love?), despite all the hurt they did to each other.

So this is it. I hope you enjoyed my Ted Talk. Feel free to share it with whomever you want, especially if you need some solid reasons why this ship has got some good potential.

And remember: the ship is in the eye of the beholder.

F.

[rosarenn]

All things are ephemeral

I've been thinking a lot about the illusion of certainty and the way it holds us back from achieving great things.

There's this idea that if something is temporary, transient, that it isn't worth putting any effort into. That something is only worth your time if it endures, if it's permanent. That the investment must be followed by a payoff or why bother.

I am very much talking out of my own experience here, as a white settler/colonizer raised in a more or less middle class family. I know my experience is not universal, and I am still going to talk about "we" and "us" because I want to include myself in this group, and I'm noticing a pattern that I want to talk about. If you have never experienced certainty, or are in a stable position for the first time in your life, this is probably not about you, for example. Take what you need and compost the rest.

I'm reading Nine-Tenths of the Law: Property and Resistance in the United States by Hannah Dobbz, which discusses squatting in the US. One of the themes that comes up over an over again is the idea that because a squat is temporary, because the police could kick you out at any moment, because you don't have ownership or equity or any kind of title on your side and you could lose everything in a moment's notice, that it doesn't make any sense to improve the home you're living in. That the work would be wasted, and who wants to work their ass off and not reap the benefits? Why would you bother?

And this, to me, is so incredibly short-sighted, and represents an internalization of the logic of capitalism. Why would you bother? Because you are fucking living there. You're living there, you're passing your limited time on this planet in this space, and why would you live in a dump if you don't have to, if you don't like living in a dump, if you would feel better, be happier, enjoy your time there just a little bit more than if you didn't clean it up. It's the same reason I've painted countless rental apartments - even though I don't know how long I'll be there, while I'm there I eventually get sick at looking at plain white walls. It's why I'm planning to paint a mural in my rental apartment - it will bring me daily joy for as long as I am here. It's why I decorated my office when I still had an office. Because if this is where I am passing my time, I want it to be a little more pleasant.

We've so internalized the logic of the state and the market that we have this illusion that home-owning provides certainty, that it makes sense to invest in a home you own because it can't be taken away at a moment's notice. But it's a lie. The bank could repossess your home. The sewer could back up. A flood or a wildfire could make your home vanish in a moment. With climate change these events are only going to increase in frequency, as will the unrest and failed states and all the other forms of violent dispossession that that entails. The entire stock market could blow itself to pieces tomorrow, the currency we've all agreed to use could become worthless pieces of paper, anything can happen. I could die tomorrow. I could die today. There is no certainty, any where, ever. Anything I work for could be for nothing - nothing except for what I make of it here and now. I want to live before I die.

I think about the way I've been indoctrinated to delay gratification to the extreme. That's what the promise of capitalism to the middle class is, after all. Work tirelessly for all of your productive years, save your coins prudently, invest them in the stock market for the future and never take out your principle because compound interest is magic and you'd be a fool to forego that sweet, sweet "free" interest income. And then, and only then, you can retire for a few years and live a tiny sliver of your life free from the constant grind of daily waged labour. If someone is not able to make ends meet, I was taught, it's because they are too loose with their spending, they aren't able to delay gratification long enough for the real payout, the poor dears. Scrupulously saving, denying ourselves the momentary joys of right now in order to chase a possible future prosperity, is positioned as a moral good.

Of course this is a lie, and a terrible way to live (even as it is incredibly privileged). I lived this way for years and I'm only now beginning to come to terms with it. There's so much grief there. How much did I miss out on? Think of all the joy, vitality, and the things that make life worth living that I denied myself - and for what? To chase certainty in the future, because I couldn't accept the ephemerality of today.

There's a delicate balance needed here, of course. There's an argument to be made that what we need is more delayed gratification, not less. The constant churning consumption, the endless extraction from the earth and our bodies, putting today's profits ahead of tomorrow's, or even above the survival of our own children - these are features of capitalism and they are destroying us.

But they need to sell us this lie, that if we work hard today we can be happy tomorrow, to keep us working. Because if we truly looked at horrors of this reality, if we truly knew in our bones that everything we have today could be gone tomorrow, that everything in life is fleeting - would you still go to work, day after day after day? I know I sure wouldn't. Even though I don't know what I would do to survive instead. Even though stepping into that unknown is terrifying. Even though I have no answers, I would have to take that leap.

I think, too, about the way I sometimes see people talk about revolution - and I include myself in this group. That until we are ready to make a global revolution, until we are all but guaranteed success, until the moment we reach critical mass, all we can do is wait. Maybe we agitate, maybe we form unions and organizations and try to spread the word, but until success is certain we can't act, not truly. I see this more in communist circles than in anarchist ones, and it was especially present in the critiques of the temporary autonomous zones that popped up in the midst of last summer's uprisings - they would never succeed, they would be quickly dismantled, and thus were doomed to failure and shouldn't even be attempted. As if there was no value in the experiences, however fleeting. As if the way we live our lives is irrelevant. As if a thing bringing you joy is not enough justification in itself.

Even though I skew more towards anarchism, I can still feel this attitude infecting my own thinking. I don't want to try to unionize my workplace because it will fail and I'll get fired and it won't matter, really, anyways. I don't want to talk openly about my politics when I know people don't agree with me, because what's the point when I already know I can't change their minds. What's the point of guerrilla gardening when the city can just come by with a weed whacker and destroy our labour. So on and so on ad nauseum, every endeavour doomed to be temporary and thus, automatically, a failure.

I think of my friend who spent the past two summers building up an incredible garden, who now has to move, suddenly, before the end of the growing season. My first reaction was that it was such a waste, that she had put in so much effort and time and money and now wouldn't even be there to collect the final harvest, that it would be better if she hadn't done the planting, somehow. As if she hasn't taken immense pleasure and pride in her garden for the past two years. As if she hasn't harvested throughout the whole summer. As if the harvest she planted suddenly winks out of existence if the benefits go to someone other than her. As if this somehow invalidates everything that came before. But this line of thinking is horseshit. Someone will still eat those vegetables. If nothing else, the birds and the beasties will love eating what she has grown. She learned so much and will be able to carry that knowledge forward with her. On and on, there was great value in this venture even if she will not be there to reap every last piece of the harvest. And if it wasn't a sudden move, it could have been a drought, or a violent storm, or an infestation, or theft. Or or or. The possibilities are endless, results are never guaranteed, and if we are only working to achieve an ends, we might need to take a good long look at what we're up to.

I wonder if the roots of this ideology stretch all the way back to the agricultural revolution. Ephemerality would have been the day to day lived experience of hunter-gatherers. Here today, gone tomorrow, pick the berries now, while they're ripe and before the birds get them. But agriculture? Prepare the field, plant the seeds, water, tend, wait. wait. wait. then finally harvest. Finally finally your labour has paid off and you can eat. Careful though because there won't be another harvest until next year, so be careful, ration, wait. Would you plant the field if you didn't know if you'd be around to harvest it? That's a tough sell, for sure.

I think of flatwormposting, on instagram, who announced suddenly that they would delete their account today. That they felt like they had accomplished what they wanted to accomplish, that they were complete, and ready to move on. The immediate response, of course, was no, don't go, or if you must go, please don't delete the account. Leave it up, to sit in perpetuity, an archive of your work and legacy. Please, you did good work, please let us keep it. As if deleting their account deletes their work. As if they won't carry it forward with them. As if people who interacted with the account while it was up weren't changed in some small way. As if a thing that is temporary - which is all things - is somehow less important than a permanent thing.

And their response was simply, all things are ephemeral. All things are ephemeral, everything could be gone tomorrow. If they didn't delete this account, instagram could. A hacker could take it. Nothing is certain, everything is a constant renegotiation. Given that, what now?

What now? How do we want to live before we die? What choices might we make if nothing was certain? What risks would we take? How would we live our lives if we knew, deeply, truly, in an embodied way, that another world is possible, as the Nap Bishop constantly reminds us? That the continuation of this one as it is, that the status quo is not and has never been certain? That each day we wake up we make this world again, and we could simply chose to make it differently, to paraphrase David Graeber. If we no longer privileged that which is over that which could be. If we no longer held onto the illusion of certainty and control and permanence.

All things are ephemeral. What now?

[seaswalllow]

hey nerds, surprise is here! this is a sort of... what-if exploration of what quackity could've possibly told technoblade in order to get him on his side for the red banquet. enjoy; and remember, comments and rbs feed the author :P

--

a man with a coin and a smile steps through a whirling portal. vertigo, as familiar as it is painful, grips him down to his bones; he grits his teeth against it and keeps his eyes open, for he has a job to do, and it is a dangerous job indeed.

and many, many blocks away, another man brushes the snow off of the hide of his horse, unaware yet of his visitor.

--

Technoblade would've liked to say that he heard the crunching of the snow first. That some prickling on the back of his neck had warned him about his unwelcome guest.

As it stood, exactly none of this had happened. What happens instead is this: chat starts whispering, starts hissing until it resembles a storm more than itself, he straightens up by carl to turn around, hand on his axe, and Quackity says "Hello, Technoblade."

His axe is at Quackity's throat before the man can even get his next few words out. He scans the landscape, eyes narrowed. There's not many places to hide out, here, on snowy plains as far as the eye can see- but he was proven wrong once.

He doesn't have the luxury of being proven wrong again.

trap? trap? why is he here fucking stupid be careful look out

It's funny, how often they end up in these situations.

And by funny, he means that he would like for it to stop.

"Who else is with you," he demands. The edge of the axe glitters, pressing a thin red line into Quackity's neck. Quackity, who doesn't look panicked, or frazzled, only calm, calm, calm.

That worries him more.

If they were annoyances while desperate- confident men can be foolish men. And Quackity has been a fool before. But if they were to execute him while desperate- then they've had time to stuff their sleeves with plenty other tricks now.

"I came alone," Quackity shrugs. He's careful to keep his hands where techno can see them, Techno notes.

alone why that's so stupid lying why

Chat slowly, slowly quiets; moreso out of curiosity than any real appeasement as they swarm Quackity, wolves flocking to a sheep.

"You're welcome to check the perimeters. or keep this axe up. I don't blame you after..." after he was hunted down in his own house in a mockery of justice? Techno is sure that Quackity sees the displeasure that pulls his lips back, baring his tusks further.

Still, his voice remains level.

"I know how this looks," Quackity agrees, and that pulls another narrow-eyed look out of Techno.

"After taking me back to be executed? I'm glad that at the bare minimum, you don't blame me for what I'd say is... oh, reasonable caution."

"Then why'd you come here? Some would say that's plain stupid. Walking into your enemy's house like a sitting duck."

technofunny technolame haha sitting duck lmao L L L

Quackity, to his credit, smiles. Or some fascimile of it, at least. It bares his teeth, gold winking in the weak winter sun, leaves him jovial-looking enough, but it never reaches his eyes.

"Clever. I came here because I have a proposition."

Techno exhales. Lowers his axe.

He's not doing this again.

"No."

"I haven't even asked yet," Quackity hums, and Techno arches an eyebrow. The axe is hoisted over his shoulder, and he makes sure the light catches the worn enchantments. A warning.

"And i said no. Whatever it is, I'm not interested. You've got some nerve, coming here with a proposition."

Chat, like the swarm of traitors that they are, though, stills. He can't make out a single word above the murmured buzz, but he doesn't like how thoughtful it sounds.

"Have you heard of the Eggpire?"

This... stops him in his tracks. Quackity hasn't taken his eyes off of him. (Smart, Techno thinks. Watch the biggest threat. Negated by the fact that you sought him out.)

He neither confirms nor denies, and instead continues watching Quackity, who takes it as a cue to continue.

"It's a rather large group that's started amassing around some fucking parasite. They've expressed interest in... recruiting. I'm sure you remember this."

Hard to forget, he nearly says, but he's not exposing his neck any more than he already has by staying and listening. (He's not showing that he remembers tossing pearls, tridents down to the kid stuck by the egg, that he remembers the egg itself hissing gently in his ears and pulling at Ranboo.)

"And I thought that well... if there's ever a reason to come here, it'd be for common enemies. You, an anarchist with some... personal investment. Me, with personal investment and a concern for the people."

crimson. disgusting. hate it. false god rotting god tear it up and watch it burn

Chat, shut up.

He snorts before he can stop himself. "Concern for the people. Don't make me laugh."

Quackity tilts his head, eyes narrowed. He looks about as serious as Techno's ever seen him on this visit, jovial facade wearing away. (He looks like he did the day that he brought the Butcher Army to his doorstep, flint in his eyes and axe in hand. It's funny how some things just don't change.)

"I had friends, Techno. Good friends who the Crimson has taken, and warped until they're unrecognizable, and wouldn't recognize themselves in the mirror. I have had other friends suffer at their hands. Starvation's not a pretty sight in close quarters, especially when the thing encourages you to take to yourself, so to speak. Yes, concern for the people."

Techno looks at him for a solid minute; long enough for something to strain at the corners of Quackity's eyes. That's fine; Techno couldn't give a damn.

"Tell me what you want first, and why."

Something slips off of quackity's shoulders. He digs his hand into his pocket; Techno tenses, but Quackity's simply pulled out a coin with a smiley face on it, rolling it over his knuckles and under his hand.

"They're holding a banquet in a few days' time. They've invited... quite a few people. The entire server, if I remember right. They said it's to turn over a new leaf, but... they're also holding it right down by the egg."

The coin has stopped flipping. The smiley face lies face down, leaving the crown side up, sunlight reflecting off of it. Quackity leans closer, voice dipping. Paranoid, ever paranoid.

"I want to crash this fucking thing, and clean up the egg mess once and for all. Eliminate the threat."

Techno shifts his weight, hooves sinking deeper into the frozen layer of snow atop the fields. Chat, oddly, has fallen silent. All that they hear around them are the bees working gently to the side of Techno, and the foxes yipping behind them.

"So you want to use me as a weapon. Again."

"Purpled? So you're saying there's other people involved."

"As a partner," Quackity corrects. "I'll scout the area for you, give you all of the logistics; let you know what timing we need to worry about. You'll be compensated for your assistance, obviously, too- just like Purpled. As a valued business partner."

Business folks. All the same, sweet words that bely the fact they'll leave you out to bleed dry.

this is weird egg egg fight egg crimson

"You and Purpled are the only ones I've approached. Purpled's already accepted."

Techno taps his fingers against the handle of the axe. Not once has Quackity broken eye contact- he leans back now.

"And if I say no?"

quackity shrugs. "Oh, you can say no! This is by no means meant to pressure you. I just figured- as an anarchist, you'd jump at the chance to take down an empire." He pauses. "Especially because this empire is known for being... persistent in their recruitment and expansion. They went for Ranboo once- who knows who else they'll go for?"

The implication does not go unnoticed. Techno bristles; chat bristles. Quackity raises his hands slowly. He still hasn't stepped back, even with the axe in front of him.

"I'm not threatening them. I'm just saying- the Eggpire is a threat. The Red Banquet will make them a bigger threat, but it's also the best time to shoot them in the knees."

Techno inhales. Exhales.

fight the crimson fight fight money free party free food

God, chat was annoying today.

"Time, place, and payment."

Quackity doesn't smile. He does nod, however, the sunlight winking off of the gold in his teeth.

"You won't regret this."

"I'll be the judge of that."

[aditublog]

my writing

“You have no proof.” The Stealth Assassin played with his dagger, letting it swirl over his palm. He leaned against the wall, not even looking up.

Narrowing his eyes, the Bounty Hunter hissed. “I don’t need proof, I know it was you.” He fucking hated it when Riki played dumb. As if it wasn’t obvious that he had sneaked in, killed the wanted creature and then collected the bounty. Even though Gondar had marked the target as his to take. Had been following it for days, waiting for the right moment to strike as to make it less suspicious. Subtly preparing a situation where he could strike. Everyone could storm in and kill, but it had been supposed to be without attracting attention.

Not that it hadn’t been now, the fucking Assassin had done a perfect job, almost as good as Gondar would have. Fuck, maybe even better. But he had known that the Hunter had been on to it, that he had been waiting, that he had wanted to collect the bounty for the kill.

“So…what you gonna do with you knowledge?” The smirk on Riki’s face was aggravating, which the little satyr probably knew quite well.

“You don’t even need the money!” It sounded whiney somehow and Gondar straightened, trying to cover his tone with a confident posture. Not that it helped, the Stealth Assassin was too good in picking up everything around him.

“No, I don’t. But I like to annoy you.” Leaning forward, he stopped playing with his weapon, his attention now focussed on Gondar, and grinned even wider. “I’m bored and you are good entertainment.” Now he even winked. It was all a game for him, but for Gondar it was his job. He needed the money from bounties, tracking and assassinating was the only thing he was good at. It was his income.

“Well, you seem to be serious about the bounty.” With a faked sigh, Riki leaned back again while taking something out of a purse that was lying next to him. He flipped a coin with a casual move of his wrist. “Take this, as compensation for your troubles.”

Out of reflex, the Bounty Hunter caught the coin. Even in flight it shimmered golden, more than the bounty for the target had been. It should make him be relieved, that he got payed for all the effort he had put into this. Instead, he was steaming with anger. This fucking assassin played with him. He killed his target, collected the bounty and then he had the guts to sit here, waiting for Gondar, knowing he’d come and complain. And to top it all off, he tossed him a coin? Because he was good entertainment?

In need of money, the Hunter had to take it or find another job soon. He could shove his pride aside and eat something nice the next few days or give the money back and try to find food in the woods, collect it or hunt it and cook it on his own. Which all took time that could be better invested in searching for a new job, searching for a new target and a bounty to collect.

“It is only fair,” Riki murmured. “You did most of the assassination anyway. I would’ve never been able to kill the target this easily if you hadn’t prepared it like that.”

With a growl, Gondar closed his hand over the coin. In the same moment that he turned around to leave, he got invisible with a soft whoosh. There was no sound at all as his feet hit the ground fast to get away from the Stealth Assassin and to run the anger out of his system. The job was done, the bounty was collected. And Gondar had enough money so he didn’t have to worry about food and a soft bed for a few months. Only the way he had gotten the money was degrading. The cocky satyr Ricki and his fucking attitude.

[too-attached-to-fiction]

First Comes Baby, Then Comes Marriage | Raising Harry

Series Masterlist

Word count: 1024

Synopsis: You and Remus get married.

A/N: I just want all the fluff. Sorry if you’ve submitted an ask, I haven’t been really paying attention to them! A lot of them are Weasley requests and I just needed a little break.

~~~

You cradled Harry in your arms, rocking him gently. Lately it was impossible to get him to sleep in his own crib without some extra help. The room was dark, only illuminated from the light in the hallway. 

“Hush little baby, don’t say a word, papa’s gonna buy you a mockingbird…” You hummed quietly as his eyes fluttered. “And if that mockingbird won’t sing, Papa’s gonna buy you a diamond ring… And if that diamond ring is brass, Papa’s gonna buy you a looking glass…” You continued on, smiling down at the boy. 

When his eyes finally shut and his breathing was slowed, you carefully placed him in his crib, tucking him in. You lingered by the crib, watching him sleep for a moment before Remus spoke from his place in the doorway.

“You’re brilliant at this.” He said quietly, smiling. “I never thought we’d be in this situation, but you’re amazing with him.” 

“So are you.” You retorted, walking over to him and wrapping your arms around his neck. “He loves you.” 

“I always knew I wanted you around.” He teased, and you grinned, kissing him. 

“Hopefully for more than childcare.” 

The two of you left the nursery, going down the hall to the living room. Carefully, you lay on the couch, with his head in your lap. You played with his hair gently, combing your fingers through it. 

“D’you reckon James and Lily moved too fast?” He asked, looking up at you. “They married right after we left Hogwarts.” 

“You know when you know. After all, they’d been going after each other for years. Doesn’t really matter in the end, does it?” 

“Well… because it’s time I ought to propose to you, right? We already have a baby.” Remus said, carefully studying your face for any reaction. 

“Is this your proposal?” You asked with a laugh. “Remus John Lupin, are you proposing to me with your head in my lap?” 

“I don’t have a ring, and we can’t exactly have a wedding in hiding. The best I can get won’t be expensive, Merlin knows I don’t have the galleons for that. And I can’t ask your father-” 

You laughed again. You didn’t even know he had put so much thought into this. The poor man probably spent nights wondering how to bring it up. After all, you’d had Harry for a month or two at this point. “I don’t care about any of that. A ring would be nice, but we can transfigure a coin into one. The backyard has enough space, and we both know Aurelia and Sirius are the only ones who would come anyways.” You stroked his cheek with your thumb. 

“Would you like to get married, then?” 

“One moment.” You said, reaching for your wand and pointing it towards a sickle on the coffee table. You waved it and the sickle hollowed out, turning into a silver ring. “Sit up.” 

He followed your instructions, unsure of where you were going with this.

You gave him the ring. “Try again.” 

He grinned, moving to get down on one knee. “(Y/N) (L/N), will you marry me?” He held up the ring for you. 

“Of course.” You grinned, letting him slip the ring on your finger and pulling him for a long kiss. 

~~~

“Moony, repeat after me.” Sirius said. The five of you were standing in the backyard. Heating charms had been placed everywhere, and you’d charmed the trees to make a small arch with the branches. 

You were dressed in a maroon dress and flats, a small flower crown atop your head. Remus had picked his best robes, which were a little too big on his skinny figure. Aurelia was carrying Harry, who you had dressed in a shirt and trousers that morning and was now trying to bite his shirt collar.

“With this ring, I thee wed,” Sirius said slowly, glancing at Remus. You tried not to laugh as Sirius exaggerated his enunciation. 

“With this ring, I thee wed,” Remus repeated. 

“And with it, I bestow upon thee-” 

“And with it, I bestow upon thee,” Remus said, bouncing on his heels. 

“All the treasures of my mind, heart and hands.” 

“Any and all the treasures of my mind, heart, and hands.” Remus winked at you, sliding the ring on your finger. 

“That’s not repeating me!” Sirius exclaimed, causing you both to laugh. “Now with (Y/N)-” 

“With this ring, I thee wed, and with it, I bestow upon thee all the treasures of my mind, heart and hands.” You recited perfectly, sliding the ring on Remus’s finger. 

“Then by the power invested in me by Merlin’s saggy left t-” 

“SIRIUS!” Aurelia interrupted, startling Harry. He glanced at her with wide eyes, tears beginning to form. “Harry, it’s okay.” She hushed him, rocking him back and forth. 

“I now declare you husband and wife.” Sirius said with a wide grin. The two of you met in the middle, your arms wrapping around his neck as you’d done a thousand times before, for a long kiss. 

“Yay!” Aurelia said, waving Harry’s arms around. You laughed, taking Harry from your best friend and giving him a kiss on the cheek. 

“You were so good.” You whispered to the baby, who smiled widely. 

“Can we have cake now?” Sirius asked, with Aurelia immediately smacking him on the head. “What? That’s a genuine question!” 

~~~

The five of you sat around the kitchen table, with Harry sitting in your lap. You bounced your leg up and down, letting the sound of his laughter float around the kitchen. Sirius made faces across the table, making Harry laugh even more. 

“Any plans for a honeymoon?” Aurelia questioned as Sirius and Remus entertained Harry. 

“Don’t think we really can go anywhere.” You shrugged. “If you can take Harry off our hands for a few nights, we could do that?” 

“Of course. He’s adorable.” The four of you laughed as Sirius made a particularly ridiculous face. 

“We’re married.” You whispered to Remus that night, after the two of you had tucked Harry into bed. “I can’t believe I’m married to my favorite person in the world.” 

“Neither can I.”