#it is a procedural show at the end of the day so I’m not expecting a lot when it comes to accuracy with family at the wedding tbh

[guardian-angle22]

Today’s invasive 911ls thought of the day is: will Enzo be at the wedding with Jonah or will the writers think up some crazy reason as to why they aren’t so they don’t have to cast someone as Enzo?

Based off history, I’m going to make a guess and say it will be the latter but I’m really hoping I’m wrong. I wanna see Enzo there showing support for TK and Carlos… I also wanna see Enzo and Owen trading insults and side eyes ngl.

Similar thought: how many of Carlos’ relatives are they going to cast and give actual names/introductions to? Again my expectations are low but my hopes are high for at least a few!

[hopelesslygaysstuff]

pairing: ceo!wanda maximoff x fem!reader

summary: wanda exploits your weakness for her, and fucks you in her office

content warnings: smut obvi, possessiveness, fingering, thigh grinding, a little bit of choking, slight exhibitionism

word count: 3.3k+

masterlist

Fingers Are My Weakness

‘I miss you, come to my office.’

You smile at your phone, sitting back in your seat as you come up with a response. You quickly turn the brightness down on your screen, fingers typing quickly as you bite your lip slightly. 

“Hey, are you ready to go over some of the procedures?” The voice is slightly grating on your ears, and you quickly delete your response as you lock your screen. Looking up, you see the woman who’s been showing you around all day looking at you with an expectant look on her face. 

Shit, what was her name? 

“Oh! Uh…” You check the time on your phone, noting that the workday had ended for almost everyone else. “Right now? I thought that procedures could wait until tomorrow?”

A condescending smile appears on her face, and you blink in surprise when she starts speaking. “Yeah, right now. It’s typical for newbies to stay late their first few days, just to get you up to speed. That’s ok with you right?”

Your phone dings, the woman’s eyes snap to it. Your fingers tighten around your phone, almost protectively. You huff slightly in annoyance, noticing the way the woman’s eyes linger on your legs, right where your skirt ends mid thigh. 

“Fine, just let me respond to this.”

Looking down, your heart jolts at the message you’d just received. It’s a single word, and sends shivers of nervousness down your spine. 

‘Now.’

Wanda Maximoff was not a woman you wanted to displease. Ever. You'd been on the receiving end of her ire more times than you could count, and although it was always enjoyable, the thought of punishment for disobeying a direct order sent your heart racing. 

The woman - Hailey, you remembered now - moved towards you, her heels clacking on the floor as she pulled a chair next to your desk. You had your phone angled away from her, fingers flying across the keyboard as you tried your best to minimize the punishment you'd surely receive for disobeying. 

‘I’m sorry, I can’t right now. Hailey is going over procedures with me. I’ll make it up to you later, I promise.’

You flip your phone over again, sure that your face is heating up. Your fingers tremble in your lap as you lace them together tightly. Fortunately, Hailey is too focused on not-so-subtly peeking down the front of your low cut shirt to notice your flustered state. You clear your throat, annoyance building as you raise your eyebrows at her. 

Coughing slightly, Hailey pulls out a packet of information and places it in front of you. You flip through the first few pages, groaning internally at the sheer amount of information crammed onto each section. Hailey’s speaking again, her voice high and scratchy. It is nothing like the voice you actually want to hear. 

Just as that thought crosses your mind, your phone dings again, but you force yourself to ignore it. Avoiding eye contact with Hailey, you force yourself to flip to the second page as she drones on. You can practically feel the boredom take over you, your eyes drooping as you relax into your seat. 

Sneaking a glance at your phone, you see that Wanda has sent another message. Suddenly awake, you open your texts and read, your eyes wide. 

‘I thought you wanted to be a good girl?’

Your eyes flick over to Hailey, noticing that she’s now fixating on her laptop, seemingly searching for a specific page in a pdf. You hide your phone between the pages of your packet, typing with one hand while the other nonchalantly rests on the paper. 

‘I am a good girl, just busy rn. I’ll see you later.’

Locking your phone, you try to focus. Hailey’s voice is making your ears bleed, and you constantly find your thoughts wandering to a certain person. More specifically, your girlfriend, who just so happened to be the boss of the current company you worked at. 

A loud noise startled you out of your thoughts, the images of long hair and green eyes fading as you turned to look at Hailey. She snapped her fingers again, right under your nose as your eyes went slightly crossed in an effort to track her movements. 

“Listen, newbie,” She started, her eyes glancing down at your chest. “Just because you’re a personality hire doesn’t mean that you get to slack off, alright?” 

You felt anger rise, your thoughts churning as you glared at her with thinly veiled disgust. You’d actually worked very hard for this job, submitting an application and going through the same interview process as everyone else. Your girlfriend hadn’t actually known that you applied until your resume made its way to her desk along with the other final candidates for the position. 

She’d fucked you in many different positions that night, her praises never ending as you came over and over again. You’d begged her to be fair in the selection process, not wanting to only be hired because she ordered it. Wanda had agreed, saying that she’d refrain from the hiring process altogether for your special case. 

Breathing deeply, trying to calm yourself, you were about to respond to Hailey when your phone buzzed again. 

“Okay, who the fuck is texting you so much.” Hands reach for your phone, but you quickly pull it away. There’s an unimpressed look on Hailey’s face, her palm out as she expectantly glances at your phone. 

You sigh, unlocking your phone to see that Wanda has sent an image along with a message. No way in hell were you letting Hailey see the potential contents of that message. 

“It’s actually our boss.” Your tone is short, your words clipped as you raise a single eyebrow. You pride yourself on mastering your girlfriend’s infamous ‘I’m pissed’ face as Hailey takes in your expression and pales at your words. 

“Wait…” Hailey fumbled her words, trying to remedy the situation. “You have Wanda Maximoff’s phone number?”

You smirk, mindful of how long it's taken you to respond. Any second, Wanda would probably come storming down the hall, wondering what on earth was more important than her. “I do, and I should probably respond soon, don’t you think?”

Hailey waves her hands in a flustered ‘go ahead’ gesture as she ducks her head. You give her one last glance, before angling your phone away and opening the message. 

First you see the photo, an image of Wanda’s fingers splayed out on her desk, contrasting beautifully against the dark wood, her veiny hands catching your attention. You feel yourself flush, nervous butterflies erupting as you glaze at the long fingers and delicate gold rings adorning them. Then, your eyes flit down to the attached message, 

‘Mommy’s fingers miss your pussy, darling. Don’t be a brat.’

You suck in a deep breath, your heart thudding as Hailey looks over at you, craning her neck to try and see your phone. Shooting her a glare, you jolt when another text pings through.

‘If you want to be a good girl, then you can come to my office and suck my fingers. Is she more important than I am?’

You feel lightheaded, and any thoughts of going over procedure with the nosy brunette next to you vanish. You mutter some excuse about how Wanda needed you in her office, and to not wait up for you. Hailey says something, but you wave her off, already packing your bag and walking towards the large doors that lead into Wanda’s office. 

Cursing your girlfriend out in your head, you can’t help the way your thoughts keep returning to that picture of her fingers. You should have known she’d use that against you, and you regretted ever sending her that drunk text. The one where you confessed your obsession with her hands, calling them ‘perfect to suck on’ and telling her you ‘wished she would wrap them around your throat like a necklace’.

Pushing open the heavy door, you make your way inside the dimly lit office. For some odd reason, Wanda didn’t like to use the overhead light, claiming it wasn’t good for her eyes or complexion. You personally didn’t care, as you thought your girlfriend looked good in any lighting. The room smells like vanilla, and the air around you tightens when you finally catch a glimpse of your girlfriend. 

The look on Wanda’s face can only be described as stony. You can tell that she’s upset, only seconds away from unleashing her frustrations upon you, and you waste no time. Setting your bag down near the door and closing it, you quickly walk towards your girlfriend as she slowly moves her chair away from her desk, gesturing for you to sit in her lap. 

You start speaking, your words rapid as you attempt an explanation. “I’m sorry Wanda, I couldn’t get away any sooner. Hailey…” You see a flash of anger in those cold green eyes, and resolve to never mention the girl’s name again. “Um, she was really insistent on going over procedures, and…”

The rambling explanation you’re fumbling through is interrupted by Wanda, her voice holding a dark edge to it as she asks you, “What did you just call me?”

“I’m sorry, mommy.” 

A satisfied look makes its way onto your girlfriend’s face, and you sit on her lap hesitantly. In this position, your face is just inches away from hers, and you can’t help the way your eyes flit down to her lips. 

“Tell me, baby,” Wanda begins, a dangerous look in her eyes as she slowly rolls her chair back towards her desk, trapping you between her and the dark wood. “Does she want what’s mine?”

You bite your lip, knowing that your answer could potentially get Hailey fired. Then, you remember how rude she was and the way her eyes wandered where they shouldn’t have, and the words came rushing out. 

“I mean, yeah. She kept looking down my shirt, and I kept having to tug my skirt down cause her eyes were constantly on my thighs.” The words are quiet, and you watch Wanda carefully for a reaction. Her eyes glint coldly, one of her hands wrapping around your throat as the other digs into your waist. 

“Did she touch you?” 

You can’t help the whimper that escapes you, her sharp words sending a flash of heat through your body. Your clit throbs, and you rush to respond. “No mommy, only you’re allowed to touch me.”

Wanda hums, a small smile appearing on those beautiful lips for a moment. “Good girl.”

“She, um.” You hesitate, Wanda’s hand squeezing your throat tightly at your continued silence. “She also called me a personality hire.”

Green eyes darken, and you know that Hailey will not show up to work the next morning. Or ever again. You try to calm your girlfriend, your hands coming up to cup her cheeks as she looks over your shoulder towards her door, her eyes blazing as different images of Hailey’s wandering eyes worm their way into her possessive brain. 

A whimper sounds out, ringing around the otherwise quiet room as the pressure against your neck becomes too much to handle. Wanda relaxes her grip, pulling her hand away as she leans in. Her lips attach themselves to your throat, her teeth sharp as she sucks dark bruises into your sensitive skin. 

Your moans flow freely, your hands sliding into Wanda’s hair and massaging her scalp as she marks you. When you attempt to roll your hips, needing some friction against your aching core, you find that your waist is thoroughly pinned between Wanda’s body and the desk. 

Long fingers find your lips, and you close your eyes as you wrap your lips around the very thing that you’d been fantasizing about. She presses the digits against your tongue, sliding them in and out of your mouth as you gag slightly, your tongue swirling around them. 

“Are you needy, baby?” Wanda asks after a few minutes, her voice raspy as she finally pulls back from your neck. She can sense your hips attempting to move, and raises an eyebrow at you as you fight to speak around her fingers. After a few moments, she smirks at your pleading look and pulls her fingers out, wiping them on the front of your shirt. 

“Yes, mommy.” You’re breathless, your muscles straining as you fight to keep still against her. 

Wanda smiles wider, rolling back her chair as she nods at you. “Go ahead, sweetheart. Get yourself off on mommy’s thigh.”

You hesitate, wondering if this was a trick. The hand at your waist pushes, and at the feeling of your soaked pussy sliding against her leg, you start moving. Your breaths are shaky, your hands trembling in her hair as you move your hips quickly. 

It doesn’t take long until you’re a moaning mess, your forehead resting on her shoulder as you grind your core against her thigh. You can barely think straight, all your thoughts locked on your impending orgasm as you mindlessly move your hips faster. You feel Wanda’s hand tangle with your hair, and she wrenches your head back. 

Green eyes watch your lips part, a strangled gasp leaving you at the abrupt action. Your hips are still moving, your hands limp around her shoulders as you chase your high. Wanda smiles at the sight of your glossy eyes, soft moans falling from your lips as your wetness spreads on the silky fabric of her pants. 

“Having fun darling?” Wanda’s voice is teasing and you whine. Her tone hardens, her hand squeezing painfully in your hair as she reminds you, “Remember to ask permission to come.”

You know it's a trap, you couldn’t say why, but you knew she wouldn’t give in that easily. Not after you’d ignored her for so long, your attention not solely focused on her. She hated it when someone else caught your attention, and you loved her possessive nature, no matter how much the punishments hurt.

“I want… please, mommy.” You can’t even get out a full sentence, your words broken up by breathy moans. It makes Wanda throb, and she forces your jaw up from where your head had been drooping, wanting those glossy eyes focused on her.

“Touch me,” You begged, your thumb rubbing circles against the back of her neck. “Please touch me mommy, I can’t come without your help.”

This time, it's Wanda who lets out a moan. The sound is low, resonating in her chest as she brings a hand to your pussy. At the first touch of your glistening folds, she’s hooked. She never has been able to resist you, not when you're dripping around her fingers and staring at her with adorably blown pupils. 

“Don’t worry, darling.” Wanda murmurs, letting your head fall against her forehead as she enters you with two fingers, burying them knuckle deep as you whine. “Mommy’s brainless little slut can come however much she wants.”

The words shoot straight to your core, and you know your orgasm is mere seconds away. You frantically press your lips to Wanda’s, sucking and biting as she slips her tongue inside your mouth, deepening the kiss. You attempt to convey your desperation to her, and you think she understands when she nudges your clit with her thumb. 

A few more purposeful touches, and you’re falling apart in her lap. Wanda breaks the kiss, your lips unresponsive as you gasp against her cheek. You shudder, your walls clamping down around her fingers as she continues to thrust into you at a brutal pace. Her fingers curl, and you sense a second orgasm approach while you’re still trembling from the aftershocks of the first one. 

“Wait, mommy. It’s too much, please.” You’re whimpers go unheard, Wanda’s fingers still fucking you deeply as her lips return to your neck. You feel her teeth scrape your collarbone, and another orgasm rips through you when she bites down. 

Your body aches, the sensations overwhelming you in seconds. You’re highly aware of Wanda’s teeth sinking into your collarbone, her lips sucking harshly as you writhe against her. You can feel your juices leaking around her fingers, the once pleasurable heat in your core now agonizingly painful as she slows her thrusts. 

“Mommy…” Your voice is just above a whisper, your breaths shaky as you try and form more words. 

Wanda slips her fingers from you, bringing them up to your parted lips and forcing them into the wet heat of your mouth. She strokes your hair with her other hand, bringing you down as she murmurs, “I know baby, Mommy’s got you.”

Sucking softly, you smile around her fingers dazedly, your eyes slightly unfocused as they bore into Wanda’s. She smiles back, pressing her lips to your forehead, and leaving soft kisses over your damp cheeks as you giggle. 

“Good girl, I’m so proud of you sweetheart. Since you were so good for me, would you like to feel mommy’s strap when we get home?” You nod quickly, your mouth still occupied with her fingers, sucking off your arousal as she watches with darkened eyes. 

Wanda opens her mouth to continue, when a sharp knock on her door stops her. You’re much too hazy to care, all your attention focused solely on your girlfriend. She pulls her fingers from you, kissing you quickly before calling out for the person to enter. 

You jolt, remembering the compromising position you’re in, but strong hands hold your hips still as a warning look appears in Wanda’s eyes. You stare back with wide eyes, and Wanda swivels her chair until she can see the very same employee you’d been complaining about walk in. 

Hailey looks up from the papers in her hand, her eyes widening comically at the sight in front of her. Wanda watches her eyes take in the dark hickeys covering your neck and collarbone, your smudged lipstick and messy hair, before she stammers slightly as she attempts to speak. 

Nothing comes out, her words a strained sort of whimper as her eyes bounce back and forth between Wanda’s satisfied and smug expression, and your submissive, relaxed pose. You look down, an embarrassed flush creeping up the back of your neck as Wanda’s hand rubs soothing circles against your thigh. 

“I’ve heard some interesting things about you.” Wanda says, her words drawn out as she regards the shocked employee standing in her doorway. Hailey’s eyes widen even more than they already are, and she opens and closes her mouth as she tries to find an explanation. 

Wanda tilts her head, and the color drains from Hailey’s face. You shiver, having been on the receiving end of that look before, and you can’t help but pity the poor girl trembling in your girlfriend's doorway. 

“I hope you’ve learned a valuable lesson today,” Wanda begins, her voice low as she grabs your jaw, tilting your head up so Hailey can see the full extent of your hickeys. “That you shouldn’t lust over something that isn’t yours.”

Hailey nods her head so quickly that it looks seconds away from falling off. Wanda waves her hand impatiently, a silent order for the girl to get out of her office. She takes a final look at you as she turns to leave, her eyes apologetic and wide as she grips the papers tightly in her fist, the edges wrinkling under her fingers. 

“By the way,” Wanda begins, stopping Hailey in her tracks. “You’re fired.”

You barely hear the door close, your eyes wide as you turn towards your girlfriend. You can’t help the small smile that appears on your face, your pussy clenching around nothing at the power she’d just shown. 

It’s almost as if Wanda has a sixth sense for you, her senses attuned to your body as if you shared a soul. She drops her eyes to your thighs, smirking as you gently grind down against the dark fabric of her pant leg. A single finger places itself under your chin, and you let your head raise as her green eyes bore into your own.

“Don’t worry, baby. I’ll give you plenty of orgasms once we get home.”

You can’t fucking wait.

Part Two: The Ultimate Weakness

[alchemistc]

911 was always in my periphery bc of how popular Buck x Eddie is on Tumblr and Ao3. I didn't really want to watch a cable network procedural drama, especially one that came off as so unserious. I could also see how such invested shipping by a lot of fans who are young and think it’s ok to demand things from the cast and crew would inevitably become a toxic cesspool. I stand by that assessment of the show based on the behavior of the fandom these last months, as well as the overall quality of the writing and how often good story lines just get dropped or undermined.

However, I heard about Buck coming out. Over the summer, I was going through a lot and feeling aimless, so I finally started watching the show. And I liked Buck and Tommy, but what I really loved was the quality of the fan works they inspired. At the end of the day, I never really had real expectations of high quality television from a show like 911; that’s not what it’s for.

Despite this, what really affected me last night—which was also the first episode I bothered watching live ever because of how terrible this last week has been—wasn’t even how badly it was executed or the fact that they broke up. But how unnecessarily and viciously cruel the whole thing felt?

What was the point of showing Tommy as a caring, supportive, present partner in the previous episode if it was going to lead to an unceremonious break up? What was the point of showing his yearning for connection and family only to see him throw it all away? Why have him say such wonderful things about Buck moments before questioning the commitment of their relationship after six months together? What was the point of Buck getting that speech from Josh and bringing up marriage and moving in together and that Tommy had been a transformative relationship when it was going to end with him being dumped? It just felt so horribly cruel to see a character bare his tender heart and see it get stomped on. He looked so sad at the end.

Up till the very end of the episode, I was actually really enjoying it. Their acting was so good from heart eyes to heartbreak, and the show seemed to understand Tommy’s reaction to Buck getting hit on by those women would cause friction. It even made sense to me that Tommy would recoil at the prospect of moving in together because Buck clearly hasn’t come to terms with being queer yet (sir, you haven’t researched the Kinsey scale? You?) And Tommy is also clearly afraid to reach for the connections he wants and the seeming inevitability of his heart being broken and is masking that with nonsense about Buck needing to play the field and the biphobia present wherein. It was such an interesting depth to his character! I thought the break up speech was so well-acted, and I was so ready for the conversation they were going to have that would address it and let them move on together stronger. To see Buck learn from Josh and see the scars Tommy was unintentionally revealing in that moment and address them.

And then the credits started rolling and I felt like I got punched in the gut.

It was definitely the straw that broke the camel’s back for me, with the election and other personal stuff really stressing me out this week. Last night, I felt sick and unable to sleep, and I spent the morning bawling my eyes out. It feels like one of the few things I really looked forward to had been snatched away for the shock factor. I believe the interviews are the definite death knell, but even if you don’t follow the interviews, it was just a cruel way to end the episode. Even if this ends up being a temporary roadblock or they “fix” it, it’ll always leave a bad taste in my mouth.

Anyway, I’m upset that I let a show I always knew wasn’t very good affect me this much, and I regret spending months of my life on it. But the reason I wanted to send this ask was because my real hyperfixation these last few months was never the show itself; it was always the Bucktommy fandom. Reading some of the most beautiful fanfiction, including yours, these deep and intense character studies or au’s or future fics that show more love to these characters than the show does. The stunning art, the lovingly rendered gifs, the startlingly funny and insightful writing. The fandom has been my real love, and I hope that despite this huge blow, people like you will continue being so immensely creative and artistic for this ship.

I’m sorry this has been so long and vent-y, but I wanted to send you this ask because you’re one of my favorite fic authors, and I’ve been following your posts since last night and you’re still responding to anonymous asks. I’ve always been stealth in the fandom to avoid certain parts of it, so didn’t want this on my own blog. If you do publish it, I hope the other authors and artists and creators who have made my life better get to see it too <3 And that they don’t regret the time and passion and love they’ve poured into the last few months. I have appreciated it, if nothing else.

Hi.

First of all, please don't apologize for the length of this.

Everything you pointed out were exactly the reasons people joined this fandom. Everything you listed here is EXACTLY the reason it left such a bad taste in our mouth.

I'm sorry I won't be more eloquent in this post, because this is such a kind and thoughtful and lovely summation of all the things I've been hearing and seeing and feeling.

The point of all that, if we are to believe Lou (which I do, and honestly props to him for being as gracious as he was in those post-mortems: fucking TWO exit interviews for a guest star? wtf abc), WAS to pull the rug out from under the audience. It WAS to end it all on a shocker of heartbreak. They filmed the bulk of Tommy's S8 scenes AFTER the breakup. It is absolutely vicious and cruel and meant to make people talk about it. The engagement they are getting right now is to some extent WHAT THEY WANTED. I went straight to my notes after work and I can't be fucked to check the insta or FB to see if they've posted anything new and/or what the comment count is on the 8x06 posts but THIS IS THE INTENDED RESULT. Broken hearts, upset people, an increasingly toxic fandom crowing.

That's where I'm at. I think that's where a lot of people have landed. And it's so disheartening to see something that really genuinely drew people in because it was handled so gently and kindly at first just be ripped away and the door shut on it.

And honestly if they close the mid season OR open or close 8B on a premise that includes one of them being injured and the other having a Realization™️ I won't trust this team to do it genuinely or truly. Even the breakup would have held so much potential for me, but not like this.

Anyway. I'm sorry you're feeling so disappointed. I am grieving the missed potential of literally every plot they built up this season for every character and if I do watch it won't be live and I will likely have very little trust for it's potential. There has been So Much wasted potential.

And I want to say thank you. Even if you lurked, even if you disengage now, the creators who made those works made them out of love and they wanted to share them and the community around it all has been lovely to see. Thank you.

Some of us will still be hanging around building the world that could have been. I hope, if you feel up to peeking at that sandbox, that you feel welcome to go play in it or even just clap from the sidelines.

♥️

[impossiblesuitcase]

This You I Choose - part i.

Peeta is rescued from the Capitol, tortured but not hijacked, and 'this would've happened anyway' happens earlier.

When Peeta and I do reunite, he doesn’t kiss me like I’d expected him to. He’s in a stupor, vague and bleary-eyed and can only weakly mouth my name in disbelief. His limbs are rubber as I crash into him yet he wraps them around me all the same. I’m the one to cup his face in my hands, sobbing and angry and so relieved it electrifies every nerve in my body.

The doctors prod at him for what feels like the length of a whole Hunger Games, and I’m waiting for them to leave so I can cry and hold him and I need them to just leave. Leave. 

They don’t. So I pretend they aren’t there.

Peeta doesn’t kiss me. He doesn’t grin or tease like he did without fail in the arena, no matter how dire the situation. He strokes my hair, face slack with awe. He repeats my name, again and again and again like a mockingjay. My questions—interrupted by sobs—go unanswered. Are you okay? What did they do to you? Where did they hurt you? 

So as the doctors are grabbing his arm far too roughly for my liking and forcing a needle into his vein, he squirms something awful.

And I kiss him.

Once, twice, again and again. It’s kiss five that he registers and kisses me back, and then this lasts for a long time but never long enough. Haymitch comes to collect me, tears me from Peeta’s arms so the doctors can experiment on him some more. I thrash, I scream. Peeta does too.

I’m not allowed back in the hospital until the next morning. With no doctors closely lingering, I crawl under the thin hospital blanket and envelop him in my arms. I trace his scars, monitor his crackling breaths and sponge kisses to his lips and pulse points. When I stop, he comes in for more, and I know that we are both administering pain medication this way.

The morphling relaxes him, but I think my touch is much longer lasting.

———

Over the next days I am consumed by Peeta. He is constantly on edge, distrusting everybody except a handful. Me, Prim, occasionally my mother. Even Haymitch is a bad taste in his mouth, and for how little he speaks, we’re all shocked when he summons the lung capacity to scream at him for lying to us in the Quarter Quell.

It ends in whimpering sobs, which only abate as I cradle his head into the wee hours of the morning.

I can’t stand to be parted from him, convinced Snow will turn the corner, laugh at me balefully and taunt from those puffy lips, “Oh, Miss Everdeen, you didn’t truly think I’d let you keep him?” When those nightmares awaken me at night, I do my best to stifle my gasps. I can’t disturb Peeta’s precious few hours of sleep.

Something different now is how often I kiss him. It’s for his sake, I think at first, but I begin to seriously doubt that. When I’m forced to leave his side for meals I swear I feel myself growing weaker if I go too long without my source.

Haymitch relays to me updates on the resistance, their efforts, Coin and Plutarch’s latest strategies. He more than once reminds me that Coin is looking for a Mockingjay, not the star-crossed lovers, and I’m expected to eventually show up to strategy meetings. I ignore him.

Once, when I’m barred from his room by the doctors—citing a medical procedure that cannot be interfered with—I return to my own quarters. Prim is there, stroking that mangy cat, and looks surprised to see me.

“You’re back?”

“Not for long. Just until they let me back into the hospital,” I grumble.

Prim stands and heaves Buttercup up to her chest, who hisses at me as though I’m the one who disturbed his rest. She opens the drawer where my belongings lie; the locket, the stopwatch, the pearl.

“I thought you might want to take this.” She picks up the pearl and folds it into my palm.

I run it around my knuckles. “Why?”

“Haymitch suggested that you ‘give it to the boyfriend,’” she explains. “We thought it might settle him a bit.”

I scoff at Haymitch’s choice of words and look at Prim, expecting a glint of teasing in her eyes. She of all people knows the love story was for show. To protect her, in fact. A byproduct of protecting my sister’s childhood for all these years is that she has the gall of a teenager. She makes jabs at me often but her giggles and grins always give it away. I wait for this now, but her face is as sound as ever.

“What?” 

She looks at me, innocent and unblinking. “You know, to remind him of how things were before he was in the Capitol.”

“You think he’s my boyfriend?” I spit out.

She smiles. “A lot of people think that. I’ve seen you together since he was rescued. Seemed a little more than friendly.”

“That’s no different to how we were in the Games,” I argue.

“Yes it is. No one’s forcing you to do any of it anymore.” Buttercup is glaring at me condescendingly, and I hate the idea that this stupid cat thinks it understands emotions better than I can. “You’re a bad actress, Katniss,” Prim continues, laughing a little. “And you hate being lovey-dovey. Could you have played out that romance thing with anyone else?”

No. But maybe—Gale…and then, I don’t think either of us would’ve thought to play the romance card. We would’ve treated it as one of our hunts, except some of our prey spoke like us. I try to imagine if I’d like the strategy better and I’m struck by a realisation. Gale would have killed. Not just defensively. I remember—just before I was taken to the Capitol for the first Games—he told me that the other tributes were just like animals. Would he have set up snares and traps, sized to fit a child rather than a rabbit? Would he have sought to eliminate our competition? Peeta wasn’t just trying to protect us with the love angle. It prevented us from having to kill.

Would I have been horrified by Gale by the end of the Games?

“Maybe it was for the Games, but I don’t think you could’ve done it if you hadn’t at least liked the person to begin with,” Prim observes.

I gape at my sister and her unabashedness and how she’s right. I think about my own mother; how I reject her every advance and brush of affection. I certainly wouldn’t have been able to kiss and feign endearment for some random boy that I met in the Games, even with survival on the line. I would’ve recoiled instantly and Haymitch would’ve groaned as the sponsors dried up and I’d be dead.

But I hadn’t really known Peeta before the Games. Not properly. How did he make it so easy?

I snatch up the locket, tuck the pearl in the pocket of my uniform. “I’m going to lunch,” I say, despite the hollowness in my stomach having nothing to do with food. Prim bids me goodbye, unfazed by my flightiness. 

After a lacklustre meal of some grey mush, I check the schedule on my arm and finally follow it.

———

“Hey, Catnip.”

I jump back, startled. Even with the telltale nickname, it doesn’t immediately register to me that the newcomer is Gale. As I turn to face him, taking in the amusement in his seam-grey eyes, I scold myself. This is Gale. Whom I’ve been spending almost all of my time with since coming to 13.

It’s only in realising this that I also realise I haven’t seen him since Peeta’s return. 

“Hey,” I say.

“Feeling better?”

I cock my head to the side. “Better?”

“Now that Peeta’s back,” he says, like it’s obvious. “Do you feel like yourself again?”

I’ve been incomplete since he was kidnapped, and I try to determine if I’m whole now that he’s been returned. Almost. He isn’t quite the Peeta that I lost anymore; still, I am not his Katniss from the Seam.

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

He gazes at me expectantly. I quirk an eyebrow. 

A chortle rocks his chest. “You’re not going to ask if I’m okay? After rescuing his life?”

Right. Prim, Gale, Peeta. The three people I protect in every universe. “Sorry, I’ve been distracted lately,” I confess sheepishly, scratching my forearm. “How are you?”

“Fine.”

Seeing him again makes me feel steadier. A little more like that girl from the woods. “What are you doing here?”

He taps the tattoo on his arm. “I’m rostered to be here. As are you.”

Weapons training. Trainee soldiers are scattered around the range, some aiming at targets and others being taught the anatomy of a gun by a soldier. No one is shooting yet. With how skittish I become at loud sounds these days, I’ll probably leave when that starts. Gale unstraps a gun from his holster and hands it to me. I fiddle with its mechanisms, trying to recall any of the training on its assembly.

Gale watches for a while and decides to pity me. “Here, let me show you.”

He comes up behind me, my back to his chest. His arms weave around my waist and lay over my hands. Then he manoeuvres them around the parts, removing the magazine and the other pieces I don’t know the name of and leads my hands in a rehearsed dance of reassembling them.

This closeness is nice and familiar. I haven’t embraced him for a while now, but his strong heartbeat reflected against my back reminds me that—even in these dismal bunkers of 13—I can have a piece of home.

With the weapon readied, I graze the trigger and have a sudden vision of it firing against my will. A shudder courses through me. His hands still.

“What’s wrong?”

My head shakes on its own. “Nothing.” But knowing he won’t believe that, I shakily amend, “It’s…this whole thing. We can’t live in this bunker forever. But 12 is gone. I feel like I’m just waiting for this stint to be over”—and to kill Snow, I don’t say—“so we can just go home.”

“Me too.”

“No. I can’t want that.” I extricate myself from him, turning to face him instead. His face is set with hardness as always but his eyes droop with sympathy. “I’m alive. So is Prim and my mother and you. And Peeta was taken from me but he’s back. I have better things to fret over.”

Gale cups my face with one hand and I lean into the touch. “It was home, Katniss. Of course you miss it.”

“I don’t deserve to.” And then I whisper what’s been underlying, plaguing me for weeks with nowhere for the thought to go. “Not when it’s my fault.”

He looks displeased. “Did you drop the bomb?”

I’m starting to think that that doesn’t matter much anymore. That whether you’re at the scene of the crime or being lifted from a broken arena by hovercraft, every thread eventually leads back to the spool. The larking Mockingjay.

“I did, in a way, didn’t I? Doesn’t matter if I was there or not. I practically devised it with every move I made against Snow.”

“Things happen in war, Katniss.” Perhaps I would agree with him, but the roiling in my stomach can’t easily digest this simplification. “You can’t keep hurting yourself. You have to forgive yourself.”

I toss the gun to the floor, loathing the sight of it and distancing myself from him because he’s wrong when his hands still me. His eyes are deep with intent. Then he’s leaning in and I have ample time to know what’s coming. I allow him.

The second his lips touch mine, I flinch. It’s instinct. I have no control over the action.

He pulls away. “What’s wrong?”

“I…” I trail off, unable to find the words. I don’t know what’s wrong.

He considers me for a long moment, then shoves his hands in his pockets and rocks back on his heels. “I see.”

“What? What do you see?”

He shakes his head, voice acerbic. “No, no, I knew. But I ignored it. Can’t anymore though, can we?”

“Tell me,” I order, because he’s being cryptic and irritable and I am unable to draw the conclusion he has. It frustrates me just how well he can read my own emotions when I can’t even decipher them myself. I thought it was bad enough from Buttercup, but this is exponentially worse.

“You love him. Peeta.”

The instinct to refute him shrivels up in my chest. It doesn’t ring false. Yes, I do care about Peeta. He’s a friend. An ally. A partner.

“I care about him,” I agree. “But I care about you too.”

“How?” he challenges.

“The same as him. You’re my friends. My allies.”

He crosses his arms over his chest, frowning. “But that isn’t all.”

I think of when Gale was whipped, laying beneath the cover of ice, and I chose him. Then, as soon as I’d been called for the Quarter Quell, I had been all too comfortable seeking another pair of arms to warm me. Because I was lonely, a voice scolds. Because I’m selfish. 

Am I still lonely now? Yes. Am I clinging to Peeta merely because I need company? Is that why I would have done anything to get him back?

I would’ve killed Snow. And Coin. And if Gale stood in my way….

“I don’t know,” I say.

“Don’t you?” he says bitingly. “Isn’t that the reason you’ve been glued to his hip since the moment he came back?”

“And what’s it to you?” I snap. 

“You know what.”

Because I owe him. As a friend. As I had personally appointed myself to be Gale’s lover. Even if ‘lover’ never came to fruition. Even if he never knew it.

Peeta. Friend. Ally. Partner. There’s something unsaid. For Peeta, partner feels…insufficient. Something is missing.

The hunger coursing through my body. The desperation I felt without him.

“No. That’s not all. Not for him,” I admit.

Gale chuckles ruefully. He reaches out and tucks hair behind my ear. There’s a coldness on his face with the action. “I knew. Since I saw you kissing him on that beach, I knew—it was a foregone conclusion. You’ve chosen him.”

“That’s not—”

“When you were kissing him in the arena, were you thinking about me?” he interrupts.

My mouth opens and closes a few times. “Sometimes. I’d feel guilty about kissing him. Because of you.” 

“Because you wanted to be kissing me? Or because you thought I’d be hurt by it?”

His words—plain, but cutting—stun me. I hadn’t allowed myself to consider it, but isn’t it true? Did I want him in my arms, rocking me to sleep, kissing me and me kissing him? No, I wasn’t thinking of that at all. I felt guilty. It felt like I was being unfaithful to him.

I can recognise that feeling because at this moment he has stolen the kiss from my mouth that is reserved for Peeta’s lips.

All the moments I’ve shared with this boy run past my thoughts and away into oblivion. I think about how I spent years with him, alone in the woods. How at any point my feelings should have developed and appeared. How only now, in war and Games and death, do I feel a longing for him.

If this is over, do I see myself in his arms? When things are good? Do I crave his kisses? His comfort?

Gale leans in and kisses me on the cheek. It’s familial and stirs nothing beneath my sternum. “Told ya. I won’t stand in your way, Catnip.” 

Then he leaves. I have no desire to chase after him though I feel I should. It’s the nice thing to do, the friendly thing. But after this interrogation, I wonder if that’s why I do anything for Gale. Because I fear that if I don’t he will leave me and I can’t bear to lose anyone else.

I listen to his retreating footsteps until the guns begin to fire. I touch my hand to my cheek.

———

I spend a good hour meandering down the halls of 13’s gloomy bunker. My thoughts tick over on repeat, again and again and again. Peeta will be waiting for me and that’s louder than most of my other ruminations.

You’ve chosen him, Gale said, but that tastes like a lie in my mouth. That implies that I have committed to a relationship, and in turn a future, a marriage, children. Anyone who knows me knows I haven’t committed to that, ever. So there’s no choice to make.

Some choices I have made were never choices in the first place. To volunteer for Prim. To ally with Rue. To save Peeta in the Quarter Quell over myself. Those were never something I decided. I would not be Katniss Everdeen if I had chosen otherwise.

I reach the hospital. My feet brought me here unbidden, drawn by the magnetism lying inside. Peeta. I linger by his doorway, listening for his slow breathing. If he’s asleep, I’ll go in. That way I can just look at him. To understand. To decide if Gale is right.

“Katniss?” I hear him call softly.

I enter. He’s smiling wearily, tired but content. “How did you know I was there?” I ask.

“I didn’t. I heard footsteps. I was hoping it was you.”

My arms are crossed over my chest, my stance defensive.

His brow furrows. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I resist.

“Well, then come here.” He holds out his arms.

“What?”

“The most effective treatment for ‘nothing’ is burying yourself in hugs. Shouldn’t you know that—healer’s daughter?”

He must be picking up a bit if he’s teasing me like this, so I go over. I cuddle up in his arms and my skin is electric with his touch. It’s never felt this way before. Not even on the beach. That was hunger. This is safety, my soul fitting back into my body exactly as it should. I have embraced him every day and night since his return, but this ailment is symptomatic only now that I know about it.

I can never leave his arms. I kiss him, just to double-check, and I sigh as I have my confirmation.

I never chose Peeta. Just like I never chose Prim or Rue. It is, what did Gale call it? A foregone conclusion.

It would be against my very being to not need him.

I pull away and he whines, gently. “Hey, I was enjoying that.”

“You can have more.”

He gives me a tired grin. “When?”

I lay my head on his chest and settle in for the night. My mother won’t be expecting me anyway. She’s given up trying to keep me from him. In fact, only two days past Finnick had teased that Plutarch’s query as to my whereabouts was stupid, because I had a new residence in the Mellark room in the hospital. When Prim relayed the story to me I’d been ambivalent about to react. Now, I want to scoff alongside Finnick. Yes, what a stupid question. Where else would I be?

“Whenever you want.” 

Notes

Part two

@gingerale2017 i know you love everlark ;)

[cosmopretty]

Wisdom Teeth

Kamora “KK” Arnold x fem

Synopsis: You get forced to get your wisdom teeth removed and your girlfriend KK has to take care of you with the help of the team.

Today was the day you were dreading, you were going to the dentist to get your wisdom teeth removed. Not only were you scared of dentist you did not want to get them removed because Paige kept scaring you telling you how much it would hurt.

You groan sitting on the couch with Paige while KK takes a shower. The blonde would not stop teasing you about your appointment today.

“So for the next week or two you can’t have liquids no real food” Paige says smiling, as if she wasn’t scaring the living hell out of you in this moment. Your eyes widen scared “What? You’re lying- no- nope” you decline her words shaking your head.

Paige smirks, laughing at you before Azzi walks in and slaps the back of her head “Your being mean Paige enough” the curly haired girl reprimands her. Paige acts shocked feigning innocence “What? I’m just trying to help her be prepared” she whines.

Azzi scoffs “No you know what your doing now your gonna stop and go get us some water” she tells Paige taking the seat on the couch next to you after the blonde gets up. You sigh and lay your dead back “I’m scared” you admit pouting. Azzi rolls her eyes knowing Paige was the reason why. Her hand comes to hold yours “Don’t worry KK will be there and after we will all be here for you. Don’t listen to Paige she’s a dickhead” she comforts you while Paige comes back only hearing the end of her sentence.

Before Paige can say anything your girlfriend runs into the living room “Baby come on we’re gonna be late” she says grabbing your arm. Paige waves to you smiling “Goodluck oh by the way make sure to get extra cotton pads for the blood” she winks while Azzi slaps her arm disappointed.

“What? Blood? KK you never said anything about blood” you say panicked while KK squeezes your arm. She opens the passenger car door for you “Just relax please mama” she looks at you bending down to be face to face to you while you buckle your seatbelt.

The look on her face helps you calm down a bit “I’ll try for you” you promise the girl before bringing your hand up to hold her chin, pulling her into a kiss. One of her hands comes up to caress your cheek, her thumb brushing up and down. She pulls away from the kiss her thumb still moving “Don’t try to distract me we have to go” she says sternly closing the car door, before walking to the other side hopping in and starting the car.

The whole ride to the dentist Kamora tried to take your mind off of your fears. She made jokes, sung songs even went live for a few minutes, anything to try and help relax you.

“Okay come on don’t be scared” KK says opening the car door for you, and helping you out of the car. You hold her hand the whole time she helps you sign the dentist papers. A older looking nurse says your name and ushers you into a room, KK follows you both.

The dentist comes in and sits down infront of you both “The procedure will take an hour maybe longer. Now we’re going to start you with anesthesia” he tells you before looking at your girlfriend expecting her to leave.

KK comes over to you and kisses your forehead petting down your hair “It’s going to be okay mama I promise” she tells you. You look at her through your lashes “It’s going to be okay” you repeat letting out a deep breath before kissing her hand and watching as she walks out the door, before looking back at you giving you that signature KK smile.

Scrolling on her phone, sitting in the waiting room KK waiting, her leg bouncing up and down nervous for you. Though she didn’t let it show, she knew if you thought she was calm and collected you would be too. The nurse from earlier steps out and calls her name motioning for KK to follow her.

When she enters the recovery room, she sees you sitting in a reclined chair with a pout on your face and gauze in your mouth.

You look at her with a dazed look in your eyes, your head not working. You try to get up before the doctor pushes you back down “No no the anesthesia didn’t wear off yet” he says to you before looking at Kamora.

“For the next few hours she’s going to be fuzzy, not being able to think or move straight so you’re going to need to be able to take care of her. Is that alright with you?” The doctor asks your girlfriend, when she nods looking over at you then back at the doctor once more.

“KK that’s youuuuuu” you slur your words out half smiling at her. The nurse helps you sit up before giving you a once over making sure everything is okay with you. KK walks over to you and brushes a piece of hair from your face “For post op, just make sure the gauze stays in for a hour if it’s still bleeding change it. Only soft foods, and straws and be careful she might not be able to walk correctly or have balance” the nurse informs.

Kamora listens to her before helping you stand up on wobbly legs, she wraps her arms under your knees and carries your bridle style. You mumble incoherent words to her while your eyes close tired from the anesthesia. She carries your out back to the car, she helps you into the seat “Pretty KK so pretty you” you say staring at her your hand patting her head, as if she were a dog.

She laughs at you “Okay mama you feeling alright? You comfortable?” she asks standing next to the passenger seat. You mumble your words looking around in awe, KK pokes your arm “Hey you with me ma?” she asks you again wanting to make sure your okay before she drives off.

You shrug “Pretty you’re so pretty like a teddy bear” you slur out. She nods and closes the door on you before getting in the drivers seat.

The drive home was quiet for a few minutes before you start giggling out of nowhere. KK looks over at you for a moment, her hand coming to your head rubbing the back of it “What’s so funny?” she asks looking over at your for a moment from the wheel.

You shrug still giggling “Puppies and you are like magic” you say giggling harder, KK’s eyes furrow as she looks at you. She sighs shaking her head the rest of the drive home was you mumbling nonsense while KK pretended to understand.

She parks the car right out side of the dorms before turning her head to look at you “You need anything ma?” she asks concerned.

“You pretty gimmie kiss” you tell her puckering your lips out before pouring after seeing her not move. You whine “I want kiss KK right now” you demand crossing your arms.

Paige runs to the car with her phone out ready to take pictures of you. KK gets out of the car and walks around grabbing the phone out of Paige’s hand “No P she’s not in the right mindset right now” the shorter girls says trying to protect you.

“EXACTLY come on it’s hilarious” she exclaims snatching her phone back. The blonde pops her through the door “Hi girl how are ya?” She asks you laughing at the pout on your face.

“KK mean take me away from her” you whine a tear coming out of your eye. Paige wipes it laughing before looking at her friend “And I’m the mean one? Oh okay” she rolls her eyes helping you of the car.

KK comes over to you going to grab your arm before you flinch away “Come on baby what’s wrong?” she asks you following you and Paige inside the dorms. Paige helps you to sit on the couch while filming you, “So how ya feeling short stack?” Paige asks holding the phone to your face. You mumble “I feel like bird in sky with the world” you say confidently giving a half smile.

Azzi shoves Paige “I swear Paige if you keep bullying KK’s girlfriend I’m going to-“ she can’t finish her sentence before you gasp. You smile “Azzi my favorite” you smile grabbing her and hugging her. KK groans “So you hate me but love Azzi? Come on baby I’m sorry” she says annoyed at how you wanted nothing to do with her.

You pull away from Azzi, and look at KK “I forgive you if you give me cuddle” you command arms crossed. KK nods and grabs you carrying you bridle style away from the girls and to her dorm.

She drops you on the bed gently and takes the gauze out of mouth throwing it away. You grimace at her “Ew Ew Ew” you slur as she holds your mouth open to make sure nothing is wrong.

You bite down on her finger, she squeals “Let go bad baby let go” she says her other hand waving in the air. You pout and drop her finger as she holds it “Damn baby you’re evil I don’t like this” she says while going to lay down next to you on the bed.

You shove your head in her chest “M face hurts baby” you mumble into her shirt. She bites her lip and runs her fingers up and down your back “I know mama it will feel better soon” she comforts you.

She pulls your head up and cups your cheeks, you sniffle looking at her through your lashes “M love you kk more than anything” you whisper.

“I love you more mama do wanna go to sleep or something?” KK asks you her hands caressing your cheeks. You nod your head no and pull her hand away kissing it before laying your head back down on her chest.

KK’s hands run up and down your back lulling you to sleep.

[mellowyellow236]

Royally Screwed

(Yuu will be named Yuri, as she's my Yuusona. While there will be no detailed description of her body, Yuri is intersex and may be referred to as such by the cast, although she refers to herself as a woman. All characters will be aged up by one year! As this is a royalty/concubine AU, keep this in mind. There will be no sex scenes, but there will be the implication of the expectation. The exceptions are all adult characters without specified ages, immortals, and Leona.) 

A cup of tea for breakfast because Seven forbid you end up any thicker than a needle, a meeting, a lunch that’s always served with tea (Preferably, rosemary tea this time. That’s what Skully normally gets for me at noon) The afternoon meetings, or shopping for something to wear to meetings, then dinner without tea, but with wine so sweet you can barely tell it’s not juice, and a ball if I’m unlucky, a night’s rest if I’m not. Rinse and repeat every single day. Every single one. If I’m fully honest, I’d rather be a wild boar than be emperor, or empress, or whatever you want to call me. 

At the moment, though, I mostly wish my court would just pick one to use, emperor or empress, instead of staring at me like they’ve never seen a woman rule. I’d describe it as… Hm. Irritation, as though they’re pissed off at everything I say and do. Which, to be fair, they are and also haven’t. There’s no procedure for a lady on the throne, but especially none on what to call me. Then again, it makes our court sessions much more interesting. 

“Your Highness? Honestly, do you listen to a single word I say?” He- That is to say, Crewel- Looked at me with mild disappointment and barely concealed annoyance. “You are the empress now, you have to pay attention during council meetings.” 

“Calling me an empress implies that my main job is to nurture and raise heirs. As I am solely responsible for the empire, I should be named the emperor. It commands additional respect.” I say, looking up at my uncle. I batted my eyelashes, putting on my best impression of the Advisor sitting across the room. Crowley squawked, 

“You must act with more respect for those around you-” 

“You just want to get more power from the emperor getting more power.” Came Trein’s voice, Crowley shaking his head dramatically. 

“Surely, you jest! I would never do such a thing! I only want to see the shining light of our empire rise to its highest potential, increasing the entire country's wealth!” I snorted as he continued, though no one was paying any attention. Looking at Crewel, I sighed. 

“We’re sure that we can’t change breakfast to now so I can eat, like, anything? Even if I make some noble feed me, like some power-shame ritual to show off?” 

“Depends. Are you going to wake up on time to start the meeting earlier, when you should be having breakfast? Or are you going to continue sleeping in until ten every day?” I sighed, putting the back of my hand over my forehead. My best impression of a maiden in distress, if I do say so myself. 

“I’m the empress! I need a wake-up time as much as I need a bedtime!” 

“Would you like me to enforce that as well?” He sighed. 

“Seven, no.” 

“Good. Now, are you ready for court politics? We still have oranges you can eat, if you’re that hungry.” He shrugged at the glare I presented him. Once again, wonderful acting on my part. But an orange would kill me, I hate them so much. “Hunger is the best seasoning, Pup. If you’re not hungry enough for an innocent fruit, then you’re not hungry enough to stop working. On to the topic of your empire, Trein can cover that for me.” He gave Trein a sympathetic look, as the older man nodded. 

“Emperor Yuri Akatsuki, as your councilmen,” I really need to get some council women, that’d be a breath of fresh air around here… “We believe that you need a second ruler, someone to be by your side. A-” 

“Don’t tell me I need to find an actual, man emperor, I’m not giving away my country for anything.” I huffed, looking at Trein with mild disappointment. To think, even he thinks that I need some guy next to me, who’s probably the ruling equivalent of a tyrant or baby. “Besides, I’m man enough for anyone. I’ve got a-” 

“Your Highness!” Trein’s voice rose in exasperation before dipping back down, “We are discussing how you have refused any marriages that have come your way, although it would greatly impact your ability to rule, both because of an additional mind and someone to take over in the case of you being unable to.” I rolled my eyes- Honestly, 

“Good to hear that we’re already planning my assassination…” I blew a piece of hair out of her face and rang the bell next to me. That’ll get Skully over, and then I can leave. Make up some excuse about how I’ve got so many queen duties, or my corset’s too tight, or whatever else, and then I’ll be good to go. 

“Your Highness-” Maybe take a nap or something… 

“Your Majesty,” That’d be fun, or at least less boring… 

“Riri!” I shot up in my seat, looking at the indignant man, with a hand on his chest and his cheeks puffed up. Oh wow, he looks more like he’s joking around when he’s serious than I do when I’m trying to annoy him.  

“Uh-huh, yeah, that sounds fine. Is Skully here yet? I wanna take a nap.” Good going, me. Wonderful delivery, you really made everyone in the room believe you were paying attention. Didn’t even mention how much you’d rather be anywhere else than here, great job. 

“As I was saying, it is imperative that you choose an emperor!” 

“But I’m emperor?” 

“Well aware!” Crewel mumbled something suspiciously like an insult under his breath, as Skully entered the room, tray of tea with him. I nabbed a cup full of pumpkin tea from him while the No-Sweets-Before-Lunch tyrant was distracted. “So, we shall do the next best thing. A palace harem! You shall get all of the benefits of a king, plus many more alliances and available hands, things that we would normally only be able to get through children but that having the number of children expected would put you out of commission for far too long.” Trein sighed, as Skully snickered, Grim sauntering in through the open door and seating himself on my lap. I petted his little ears around the huge mass of fur, cooing as I struck the idea down. 

“Hell no. I will under no circumstances marry anyone-” I paused as the cat hit me with one of his paws, rubbing his cheeks with my fingers. “Oh, look at you! Such a cute nose you have, all the better to smell me with! And such pretty little toe beans that I can’t see because you’re so big you go right over the sides of the throne! So much bigger than when you were this tiny! And…” I trailed off when I noticed the tension in the room. Were they actually dead set on getting me a harem? Seven, they really are desperate I marry someone… It’s almost pathetic, in a way. Stupid, at the very least. 

“You did what.” Crewel seethed, staring at a proud man, like a crow who had just stolen something shiny. “Why would you even think that was okay to do? For the empress’s sake or the rest of ours.” 

“Our sake’s mean nothing, but the empire’s-” 

I whispered to Skully, who looked pissed off, a rare emotion when I wasn’t doing something wrong by his standards, “What’d he do? I’ve never seen Crewel so pissed over a bad idea.” Skully shook his head, looking at me for a moment in seriousness, before switching back over to joy. He fell to his knees in front of me, tray on the floor nearby. He took my hands and pushed his lips onto them. 

“Congratulations, Your Highness! I’m sure that with you planning the weddings, you may have one almost as grand as our last Halloween!” 

“Wait a minute. My what.” I said, looking at the smugger man again. The second cat in the room, which seemed a little bit more moody than normal, although it always was, looked as ready to pounce as his owner would have if he was a few years young.

“I’ve taken the liberty and called a set of nine princes here already. From the Queendom of Roses, the Sunset Savanna, the Coral Sea, the Scalding Sands, the Shaftlands, and even a prince from Briar Valley! Their names are all complied in this scroll.” I was seething, Crewel was seething, Skully was creepily too happy, and Grim was begging for tuna on my lap like the big cat he was. A bit too big to my lying on my lap, in fact, considering the mane he has started growing. A fairly normal setup for my week, although my anger wasn’t usually directed at the bird man. “Why, aren’t I so gracious! From now on, you’ll have not one, but nine consorts, and their servants, all of which will be able to assist you and your advisors in whatever issues arise.” 

“There aren’t even nine princes in her age range!” 

“Well, maybe not princes, more like… Relatives of rulers or sons of high nobility. Many princes, though. The only ones that are fully unrelated are the boy from the Scalding Sands, one of the Shaftlands picks, and the second noble from the Coral Sea…” He trailed off upon noticing the murderous looks of everyone in the room. It’s a miracle he did so in such a long time, normally it’d take twice as much. Then again, he’s maturing! The man twice my age who’s supposed to be in charge of part of my kingdom is maturing! How wonderful! I’m perfectly happy with this outcome and nothing can be said otherwise! “They will be here in a matter of a week, most likely. Some may come earlier, but most stated they will be here on time.” 

“Ready rooms.” I was technically talking to Skully, but it was Trein who stepped out of the room quickly, as though to save himself from screaming. I guess the work of a housekeeper is never done, even after you’ve been promoted so hard you’re no longer one. Truly, one hell of a former butler. But, onto Crewel’s orders… Seven, I don’t want to deal with this. “Go get plan B ready.” 

“The birth control?” Haha, very funny coming from a tart.

“No, a plan to get them to leave.” 

“Then what’s plan A?” I give him a look like he’s crazy, which he is. It’s obvious what plan A is. I run away into the forest to live out my life in peaceful solitude with my pet lion, and maybe Skully or that one conman that keeps getting in and out of the jail, for entertainment. “To keep them in the palace and use them as helpers like intended?” Oh, that sounds a lot more like something the emperor would think up. Good idea, Crewel. I’m going to steal it for plan C. But if he figures out what plan A actually is, he’ll stop me… Hm, what to do… “Empress, what are you planning? If I have to cover for another escape attempt,” Oh no, he’s caught onto me, “I will be forcing you into the most stylish wedding dress we had.” I sigh, dramatically once more, this time wrapping an arm around the furry beast on top of me. 

“The horror! My most trusted advisor, betraying his beliefs of my thoughts!” There’s a squawk and a snort, respectively, before I continue, “And we’re sure I can’t do that? Like, completely sure? I can’t just run away before my wedding night, or flee the wedding bed, and leave?” 

“I’m sure.” He sighed, and I sighed. If only real life worked as plays do… I’d have killed a certain advisor by now if that was the case. Or, at the very least, I’d be the tragic heroine or love interest who’s kidnapped and has to be saved. Oo, wait, that sounds like fun… I mean, I’d hit them first, but still, give some guy a savior complex over me. Fun. “Empress.” Ah, he’s too good at his job. 

“I…” I paused, for dramatic effect as I stood up, my little furry baby getting to the floor. “Am going to go take a nap, while you fix this. Goodbye.” I walk away, much to Crewel’s disgruntlement. I do so love to annoy him. 

“Fine, Pup. But if you walk away, I’m sending letters to all of those kingdoms confirming the dates, and that they will all be welcomed when they come to our kingdom.” I sauntered out of there because as we’ve already established, it’s no threat. I’ll just make it a game. If anything, I hope those kingdoms back out before I get to their sons. 

I plan on turning this nightmare into something fun. For me, at least. For Crewel… 

Eh.

[janeyseymour]

Love Thy Neighbor, Family Matters- pt 2

Summary: the procedure, and the aftermath.

Part 1.

*full disclosure i wrote most of this hammered, like absolutely obliterated, so it is entirely unedited but. i hope u still love her*

WC: ~2.8k

“You know we can’t make a baby of our own, right?” Melissa chuckles as you practically pounce on her once you’re parked in your driveway. “That we are indeed lacking a… , and Ellie is inside probably waiting for us to come in and cuddle her.”

You just continue to kiss her hungrily, wherever you can.

“Babe,” your wife hums. “Hun. We- we have to go inside.”

You groan but right yourself as you climb off of her. “Once she’s in bed tonight.”

“Once she’s in bed,” the redhead agrees softly. She kisses you passionately, just once, before climbing out of the car. She makes her way to your side and opens the door for you. The two of you enter the house quietly, and you can hear ‘Inside Out’ playing from your living room. Melissa kicks off her shoes, as do you, before making your way into the house.

The sight before you makes your heart swell. Gerald has his arm around his own wife while Barbara holds your daughter tight in her lap. Ellie is on the verge of sleep as she leans into Barb’s warmth, but her eyes light up when she sees you.

“Hey, Ellie girl,” you say softly as you make your way over to the couch. Melissa follows and takes a seat next to her work wife.

“Were you good for Auntie Barb?” your wife asks as she brushes a few stray hairs out of the girl’s face.

Your daughter hums softly and reaches for you both. “Moms.”

“Someone’s tired,” you chuckle quietly as you take your little girl into your arms and press a few kisses to her face.

“El was perfect as always,” Barbara states. “We had a wonderful dinner before heading down to the park. She was showing us her gymnastics and dance before we decided to come home and watch a movie.”

“That sounds like such a nice night,” you smile. Ellie nods into your neck.

“How was dinner?” the kindergarten teacher asks, a glimmer in her eyes. She knows what Melissa was presenting you with tonight. 

You look at wife with such love in your eyes. “It was perfect.”

Melissa just gives you the same look as she begins to rub slow circles on Ellie’s back. “Dinner with my beautiful wife is always perfect.”

“Your conversation went well?” Barb presses quietly.

“Yes,” the two of you sigh at the same time.

“I’m going to take our little girl up,” you mumble against hair that matches your own. “But feel free to stay for a glass of wine. I’ll be back down in five.”

You whisk Ellie up the steps and tuck her into bed, kissing her forehead as she reaches for one of the many stuffed animals that lays on her bed. You watch her for a few seconds before flicking on her favorite night light and closing the door.

You expect the three adults to be sitting on the couch with glasses of wine, but instead they’re in the kitchen. You make your way in with soft eyes as you see your wife with a bottle hand.

Melissa is just about to pop a bottle of champagne and is telling the Howards how dinner went.

“Does Ellie know?” you ask your wife. You know she tends to run things by the younger girl before approaching you about family decisions like this.

Melissa shakes her head. “I figured we shouldn’t get her hopes up… in case it doesn’t

end up happening.”

“It will,” Gerald states with certainty. “Barbara and I will pray over the two of you, and god will give you another sweet soul to love and cherish for the rest of your days.”

Your wife smiles as she pops the cork and pours the bubbly into four champagne flutes. 

“Enjoy this while you can,” the redhead teases.

You roll your eyes playfully but nod as you kiss her cheek. “Oh, I will. And then for the time that I am carrying our child, I will be forcing you to drink the things that I like so I can live vicariously through you.”

The drinks are passed out, and then there is a small toast and clinking of glasses. Barbara bows her head and prays quickly, and then she smiles. “I just know the lord will give you a beautiful and healthy little babe.”

Melissa just chuckles as she raises a brow at you. “Yeah?”

“You’ll be drinking seltzers for days,” you shrug.

After a few months of monitoring your health and keeping track of your cycle a bit more closely, the day that you go for your first treatment, you once again have Barbara and her husband look after your little girl. She’s a little confused as to why the kindergarten teacher is taking her home after a day of school and not the two of you, but she doesn’t really question it. She’s just excited that she gets to spend time with one of her favorite aunties.

“We’ll come pick you up at Auntie Barb’s,” you promise your daughter as she heads off to her own classroom that morning. “Be good, yes?”

“I always am, Momma!” Ellie tosses over her shoulder as she exits. 

She stops into Melissa’s room on the way down. “Have a good day, Mom. Love you.”

“Love you too, sweetheart,” your wife smiles softly. “Now get to class before I have to call your teacher again and tell her you’re on your way.”

“I’m never late,” the fifth grader giggles.

“It’s never marked as late because Momma or I always call your teacher to let her know you’re on your way.” Green eyes are rolled playfully. “Now get outta here and upstairs.”

“Yes, Sir Mom,” Ellie cheekily turns back around to mock salute her mother. Then she runs off giggling.

The day passes slowly, and you’re not exactly thrilled at how slowly the day seems to go by. But finally, you’re standing outside with Melissa during dismissal, Ellie bounces up to both of you and happily chats your ear off about her day in fifth grade, and then you’re dropping her at Barb’s classroom door.

“We should be able to pick her up by six,” your wife tells her best friend.

The kindergarten teacher just waves you off. “The two of you should take your time. Have dinner.”

Walking into the doctor’s office, Melissa holds your hand and squeezes it as a silent reminder that she is going to be here for you through it all. The procedure is done, you lay there for about half an hour, and then you’re able to head out.

“Do you think it worked?”

“Barb is a straight line to Jesus,” your wife chuckles softly. “If it didn’t, you know that woman will be having a word with God himself. And then, we’ll just keep trying.”

“You would do that?” you ask quietly as you begin to walk hand in hand down the street.

“Of course.” She pulls you in close, wrapping an arm around your waist as you shuffle away from the office. “But for now, let’s just have a nice dinner and try to relax. The doc said low stress, and I intend on keeping you as stress-free as possible.”

“You’ll have a glass of wine for me at dinner?” you chuckle.

Your wife rolls her eyes but nods. “If that’s what you want.”

Two weeks later, Melissa hands you a pregnancy test. With a nervous glance, you head into the bathroom.

You pee on the stick, and then you sit there in absolute silence as you pray that the word ‘positive’ will be staring back at you in five minutes. Melissa keeps your daughter occupied while you sit on the toilet in a puddle of your own sweat and anxiety.

You come out of the bathroom with the stick in your hand, shaking slightly.

“El, can you go pull on your shoes so we can head to the park?” you ask your daughter gently, and the tone in your voice doesn’t tell your wife what the result of the test was.

“We’re going to the park?” your little girl’s eyes light up.

You chuckle softly. “Just like we do almost everyday that we can. Go on now.”

Ellie runs off, and almost immediately Melissa’s hands are in your sweatshirt pocket. She pulls out the test and glances at it. The word negative is staring back at the two of you, and your heart sinks just as it did when your first saw that one word printed so clearly on the digital test.

“It- it didn’t work,” you whisper softly as you look down at your feet. “I’m sorry.”

Warm arms are around your waist. “You have nothing to apologize for at all, mi amore. We’ll try again soon, and we’ll do everything that we can to increase the chances.”

You shrug. “What if it just wasn’t meant to be? I mean… Ellie was a happy accident.”

“We’ll get there,” your wife promises you softly as she leans in to kiss you. “We will.”

You go to respond, but Ellie’s voice floats into the living room. “Moms? Are you coming?”

“We’re coming, lovey,” you call back as evenly as you can. You shove the test back into your pocket. “C’mon. We can’t forget about that little gift from God we have waiting for us.”

That night, Ellie curls up in bed with you, exhausted from running around with her sweet friends at the park. She falls asleep rather quickly, but your mind is racing. Eventually, your wife begins to sing a soft tune in Italian that lulls you to sleep.

When you wake, your daughter is still holding onto you tightly as she sleeps nearly on top of you. Peeling your eyes open, you see that Melissa isn’t next to you. Sundays are days that she usually wakes early and heads to church, and you suppose this time is no different.

Your wife is nearly in tears as she pulls into the parking lot, only to be met with Barbara Howard.

“Melissa!” the kindergarten teacher strides up to the car. “Where’s Ellie with you this morning?”

“I decided to let her sleep in with Y/N,” Melissa mutters quietly. “Y/N needs her little girl right now.”

“And why would that be?” Barb asks.

The redhead looks up to her friend. “The uh, it didn’t work. She ain’t pregnant.”

The devout Christian’s face drops, as does Gerald’s. “She isn’t?”

The redhead just shakes her head. “I came here… to pray.”

Barbara grabs her best friend’s hand and leads her to the back pew. Silently, the three of them bow their heads and pray. They pray for a beautiful life to join the Schemmenti family in the next year. They pray that you will be healthy throughout, and that whatever sweet soul you bring into this world is happy, healthy, and safe. They pray that it doesn’t take too long, because they know that you can become doubtful and insecure. They sit through the sermon, finding peace in what the priest has to say, before they head out.

“Would you care to join us for brunch?” Gerald offers.

But Melissa just shakes her head. “I should probably just head home. Make sure that Ellie and Y/N are doing okay.”

The two of you throw yourselves into being the best parents that you can be for Ellie as a distraction from the failed attempt. If the lord hasn’t gifted you with a baby yet, you might as well be the best mothers that you can be for the little girl that you’re already so blessed to have. 

That is… until two weeks later, when you wake up incredibly nauseated and dizzy on a Saturday- the day that you usually take Ellie out for breakfast, spend the day soaking up the sun at the park, and then Melissa cooks out if it’s a nice enough day.

You think that the spell has passed when it suddenly hits you again, and you bolt to the bathroom.

You’re only in there for about thirty seconds before you feel your wife’s hand on your back, rubbing soothing circles.

With a heavy sigh, once you feel that you’re finished, you flush the toilet and lean back against Melissa.

“That was awful,” you groan.

The redhead just hums and reaches under the sink to grab the mouthwash. She pours a bit in the lid for you to swig.

“I hate throwing up.”

“Hopefully it’s just a quick bug that gets out of your system quickly,” Melissa tells you softly. She kisses your temple. “C’mon, hun. Back to bed for you.”

“But El-”

“Can hang with me today while you rest,” your wife tells you pointedly.

Grumbling about how you’re fine, you stumble your way back into your bedroom and curl up under the blankets, the dizziness still present. Melissa gently lays back down next to you. Her warm arms wrap you up, and you feel her press a quick kiss to the nape of your neck.

You must fall asleep, because the next time you open your eyes, the house is still. Your wife must’ve taken Ellie down to the park. Thank God your nausea has subsided, and you head back into the bathroom.

As you open the drawer to grab your hairbrush, you see one of the unused pregnancy tests. You pull it out and hold it for a few seconds before all but ripping the test from the packaging. 

Five minutes later, the word in big bold letters is staring back at you. Pregnant. In shock, you reach for another. That one also screams the word at you- in less than the five minutes that it’s supposed to.

Y-you’re pregnant. You aren’t sick with a stomach bug. You’re carrying a child. Tears of joy begin to pour down your face as you hold those two sticks.

Melissa. You have to tell Melissa.

But she’s out with Ellie. Immediately, you reach for your phone and dial her number.

“Babe?” she picks up on the second ring. “How are you feelin’ hun?”

“I need you to come home,” you rush out. “Please.”

Melissa stammers out a few syllables before sighing. “Yeah, okay. I’m just gonna drop El with Nonna, and then I’ll-”

“Why is she going to Nonna’s?”

“She called me while we were walking down to the park, and I mentioned you being sick. She said she would whip up something for you and take our girl for the night so I can take care of you.”

“Okay, okay,” you hurry out. “Just… be quick about it, please?”

“Are you really not feeling well?”

“I need my wife, dammit!”

About ten minutes later, you hear the two enter the house. Melissa tells Ellie to pack her bag quickly while she checks on you. You’re back in bed, watching some trash television as you scroll through Amazon to start looking at items you may need for the baby.

She presses a soft kiss to your head as she sets down a mug of peppermint tea for you. “How’re you feelin’, mi amore?”

You just shrug your shoulders as you close out of the shopping app. It takes everything in you to not tell her right now.

“El is packing a bag now, and then I’ll be back to take care of my sickly wife.”

“What did I do to deserve you?” you ask softly as you lean into her touch gently.

“I ask myself that same question about you and Ellie girl every damn day.”

The two head out not much later, and then Melissa is back. She announces her entrance as she kicks her shoes off in the foyer, and then she calls to you that she’s just going to put down the pot of soup that Nonna had made for you.

You leap out of bed, grab the tests, and rush out into the kitchen. Your wife hears you before she sees you, and you all but jump into her arms.

“I see someone is feelin’-” You shove the tests into her hands as soon as she’s put the crockpot on the counter. Her eyes go wide as she looks at them both, and then they fill with tears, much like yours had.

“So, you don’t-”

“I’ve never been so happy to be throwing up!” you giggle.

“Baby, are you- are you serious?” Melissa’s eyes sparkle with happy tears as she looks to you.

“The proof is in the pudding!” you tell her as you wrap your arms around her neck.

She kisses you soundly before pulling back just slightly and wiping away the stray tears that have escaped.

“I’m going to be a mother,” she whispers, and her voice breaks just slightly as her hands wander down to your still flat stomach.

“You already are,” you correct her gently. “To our sweet Ellie girl, and now to this beautiful little baby that will be joining us.”

TAGS: (and let me know if you want to be included!): @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @thesamesweetie @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @gwennybriggs @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @sapphicxrat @a-queen-and-her-throne @sunsol-22 @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson @dvrkhcld @cosmichymns @sasheemo

[princessbrunette]

kinktober : oct 31st (happy halloween!)

modern!anakin x aftercare

wow, finally at the end! here’s some much needed aftercare after a month of filthy smut. if you’re a new follower who has joined me along my kinktober journey, hi! i’m so happy you’re here and i hope you stay! if you’ve been with me from the start, i appreciate you sm. i see all your requests and i can’t wait to get to them. 🎀

it always takes you a while to come back to yourself after anakin fucks you.

it’s a combination of things, the exhaustion — considering he’ll never allow you to only cum once, and will often drag it out for as long as he can. the physical exertion on your body from the different positions you’d be held in would cause you to completely black out for a while, finally able to rest your head on the pillow whilst you catch your breath, thighs violently trembling. of course, a huge defining factor of why you would drift from reality for a moment would be due to how deep in subspace ani would have you. he’s so naturally dominant as it is, so when you fuck — best believe by the end you’ll feel reduced down to a being that purely exists to receive his praise, or please him, or whatever it is that day.

you always hear him before you feel him, it’s the procedure.

“baby.” he cooes quietly, still a little breathless himself. “you did well, sweetheart. my best girl, did so good for me.. gonna hold you now, that okay?” his voice is familiar, deep, comforting — but you’re still drifting through space. you don’t know how, but you manage a nod. you always do, you can’t bare to be apart from him any longer. after sex, you’re usually at your most clingy — needing him to ground you and cater to you until you’re back to yourself again.

“theeere we go.” he scoops you into his arms, pulling your cheek to his chest. he’s clammy, and so are you — but you can hear his heart thrumming against your ear and it just helps. he’s here. you’re here. it’s all okay.

“how was that, baby? any pain? don’t have to talk, can show me if you like.” anakin rasps, peeling himself back ever so slightly. you whine urgently, worried he’s pulling away from you fully and his gaze snaps towards you, keeping a firm but gentle hand on your back. “hey? you’re alright? i’m not going anywhere, my love. just need to see you, that’s all.” he comforts, the hand on your back now rubbing in a circle.

“don’t go.” a small voice leaves you, half muffled in his chest, your fingers digging into his thick tattooed bicep and you feel him nod.

“m’not. not going anywhere til you want me to. i’m gonna ask you my questions though, that okay?” he thumbs at the back of your neck, trying his best to make you feel cradled in his clutch. you nod, permitting him.

“okay sweet girl. are you hurting anywhere?” he repeats. it always astounds you how he manages to keep his voice so calm and… in charge. you’re not making any effort to claw your way out of your submissive mindset, infact if anything you’re sinking further into that hole but that was okay. it was warm and safe there, and sometimes you needed to cling on just a little longer.

“no. you were soft.” you speak and he kisses the top of your head in silent praise for speaking.

“yeah, i was nice on you today, hm?” he hums, pulling you impossibly closer. “are you gonna let me clean you up? or do you wanna cuddle?” he tilts his head, attempting to look at you. you lean upwards, wrapping your arms around his neck. “i’ll take that as cuddle.” he huffs out a laugh at your little groan into his neck, probably leaking your shared finish out of you and onto him.

“mhm.”

“mmmhm.” he repeats, adjusting to be more comfortable until you’re fully on top of him. “there she is. did a number on you today huh?” he rests a hand behind his head, looking down at you. you don’t respond, and he doesn’t expect you to— he’ll be there to hold you as long as you need.

[kiteblue42]

Is Eric Kripke America’s Tolkien?

So I started Supernatural for the first time around 6 months ago for which I blame Tumblr entirely (where do I claim compensation?). In fact it’s very good and fun and I can’t believe I missed it when it was live.

Ok so bear with me I’ve been sick for a few days a combination of high temperature plus rings of power trailer drop may be making me delusional, but I got to thinking … why did this show have such a hold not just on this site, but also on so many fan artists and fan fic writers. (I mean it has a strangle hold on Ao3)?

Then the RoP trailer dropped and I got to thinking is it because it world builds from a US stand point like Tolkien world built from a European standpoint?

Then because I am sick and can’t sleep I am sharing my stream of consciousness o: Kripke as Tolkien, Sam as Sam, John Winchester as Gandalf, Castiel as Beleg and Dean as Turin Turambar - and maybe now I’ve got this out of my head I’ll feel better….:

I attempted to put this under a cut so hope it worked!

:readmore:

Source material

Most modern fantasy stands on the shoulders of JRR Tolkien who basically ingested a ton of European myths and languages (with focus on Northern Europe) and spat out the middle earth legendarium.

Eric Kripke (plus writing team) seems to have ingested a ton of US urban myths and US pop culture and spat out “Supernatural-verse”. Because it is *US myth making* it is distinct from a lot of other US writing that builds off Tolkien and / or European myth arcs (I’m looking at you Star Wars, Westeros etc).

And the themes and sensibilities therefore pulled out by Kripke are *not* the same as Tolkien’s themes and sensibilities. This makes it different to a lot of modern genre fiction (in whatever form) that either builds on or seeks to subvert the themes in Tolkien’s work.

(There’s also a lot of genre fiction that is satire or allegory for the real world, but that is another category to me and not really world building in the same way - incidentally the Boys fits into that category along with Good Omens).

Both ofc back end off the Bible but this is English literature based story telling and no one escapes the Bible or the bard.

Structure

We usually think of Tolkien in terms of:

(1) Hobbit - entry level nicely structured “there and back again” story for children, darker than expected. Main hero arc -Bilbo.

(2) Lord of the Rings - the pretty perfect fantasy master piece - very accessible clear meaningful themes and tidy /satisfactory ending. A number of hero arcs, but clearest drawn are Frodo / Sam.

(3) Silmarillion (&etc) - this is where the legendarium really gets built. It’s not neat, it’s not accessible, some of it is *not* a good read but the ideas here build the world. We have a creation myth. The “good” “wise” guys turn out to be more complex and flawed than we thought. The evil guys are extremely toxic but entertaining and bring the drama. There are epic doomed romances between immortal beings and mortal beings. Everyone messes up and makes catastrophic world destroying errors on the regular. People get cursed and can’t escape their doom. I can’t think of any real traditional hero arcs (maybe Beren or Luthien??). Note Tolkien didn’t finish this and it’s put together by someone else.

Now let’s do Supernatural

(1) seasons 1-3 - Horror procedural-

Entry level solid procedural hunting / horror story. Sam W is here in the traditional hero role. Dean is like your Thorin initiating the adventure. John Winchester is in the Gandalf role (he knows what’s going on and holds the secrets but is not available to the adventurers at all times). Maybe there something deeper and darker going on? This is your Hobbit equivalent very accessible but not particularly unique.

(2) season 4-5 - myth arc - lots of fans will say this is the perfect part of the story and a masterpiece of genre writing. It’s neat with clear meaningful themes and a tidy satisfactory ending. A number of hero arcs though Sam’s remains the most clearly drawn. Dean is more like your Aragorn or Faramir at the end of 5, Bobby in the mold of a Theoden and a Castiel in sort of Gandalf type position. Baby ofc is Shadowfax. This is your LoTR equivalent

(3) seasons 6 - 15 - the Legendarium- this gets a lot of criticism but it’s where the legendarium really gets built. It’s not neat, it’s not that accessible, some of it is not great to watch, but the ideas here build the world out. We have a creation myth (hello Chuck & Amara). We have hero doomed by the narrative (most notably Dean Winchester, though also Castiel). We have epic love stories between mortals and immortals. Yes I am comparing Dean & Cas to Beren & Luthien (!) though Turin & Beleg would perhaps be more appropriate (there’s a good case for Dean = Turin in this universe). The good guys turn out to be more complex or darker than we thought. The evil guys are extremely toxic but entertaining and bring the drama.

There aren’t really any straightforward hero arcs which is one of the reasons Sam fades out a bit and Dean comes forwards as a character. The stories are messy and tragic.

Landscape

Middle Earth - if you read the books or watch the movies or show it’s clear that Tolkien’s (sub)creation is a love letter to the mountains, lakes and woods of England and Europe. It’s also a cry of anguish for their destruction. Both the beauty and destruction are heightened (Europe doesn’t really look like this and really never did - as for the movies they were shot in anew Zealand and then digitally enhanced…) This is as important as the characters and plot - and stands out in particular in the Hobbit and LoTR where there are long descriptions of landscapes (or long shots of the same in movies / shows).

“Middle Americana” - it’s clear that as much importance was put into the look of the landscapes in Supernatural as to the characters or story. In this verse the look is long open roads, beautiful mountains and big skies that are a declaration of love for America, and the run down small towns seem to present wistful sadness. But again it’s not real it’s heightened. The cinematography in first few seasons is particularly thoughtful (and perhaps Kim Manners is to be thanked for that). The show is shot in Canada and the motels / gas stations in middle of no where needed to be built because they didn’t exist in reality. Again the landscape - the open road, the small towns, the big sky, the motels / dinners / gas stations in the middle of nowhere are as much a character as anything else.

I could go on but I suppose if anyone read this far you get the point (and more importantly it’s now out of my head and I can think about something else!).

Ultimately it will take some time to see if this could be right - in terms of genre fiction Tolkien is everywhere and you can’t escape it (even if you never read or watched any Tolkien!). Time will tell if the Kripke verse has the same impact on creatives and audiences, but I just look at the A03 archive and notice how many people know what happened on Supernatural without ever watching it (!) and think hmmm these are the readers and writers of tomorrow after all.

[actualori]

wrote a little fanfic based off a headcanon discussed in the flower husbands discord

summary: scott and jimmy have known each other for years but have never seen each others faces. they both had been mandated to wear veils to cover them, up until today

content warnings: low self esteem and highly negative view on self image, slight panic attacks, and a lot of spiralling

Jimmy’s heart was about to pound right out of his chest. Today’s the day. He’s been waiting for this ever since he’d started dating Scott. The day that’s been carefully planned out by so many different people, none of which being him. The day that’ll determine the course of their relationship forever.

They could finally take their veils off.

Veils were significant in both their cultures. For Jimmy, it was a symbol of honesty. Lovers wore veils throughout their whole relationship to ensure their partner would fall in love with them for who they are, and not how they look. For Scott, it was a symbol of purity. Elves are highly religious, and most forms of intimacy early in a relationship are strictly forbidden. Ancient priests had mandated veils to try and prevent it. Much to their dismay, the procedure was ineffective and as a result, the veils became optional, save for royalty.

(Rumour has it that their beauty is so unreal it’s terrifying. Scott had just laughed when Jimmy brought that up.)

So here Jimmy was, sitting anxiously on a chair waiting for his lover, having no idea what to expect. Scott had tried and failed to describe his face to Jimmy countless times before, every painting he’d seen of the elf looked different than the last, and all witnesses of his beauty could only claim his beauty was extraordinary and unmatched.

Jimmy shot up at the knock from the door. He adjusted his veil, strode over to the door, and swung it open. Scott stood on the other side, anxiously wringing his hands together. At least Jimmy wasn’t the only one nervous.

“Are you ready?” Scott asked after what felt like years of awkward silence.

Jimmy nodded and stepped back, allowing Scott to enter the room.

“Where do you want to be?” Scott asked.

Not trusting his voice to be steady when he spoke, Jimmy pointed to his bed. They settled on Jimmy’s bed, with Scott kneeling at the end and Jimmy squished into the pillows. He ran his fingers along the smooth sheets to ground himself and took a deep breath.

“We don’t have to do this,” Scott whispered, sensing Jimmy’s anxiety.

Yes, they do. They have to do this today. Jimmy wishes they didn’t- the thought of showing anyone his face makes him want to vomit. But he can’t say no, he’s not allowed to refuse. And even then, Scott’s been looking forward to this day for their entire relationship. Jimmy couldn’t rob him of this.

And there’s some small part of him that aches for this, just as much as Scott.

“No no,” Jimmy lied, shaking his head. “I want to. I’m just nervous.”

“Do you want me to go first?” Scott asked slowly, taking Jimmy’s hand and rubbing his thumb along his scales.

“Please,” Jimmy whispered, barely audible.

After taking a deep breath of his own, Scott let go of Jimmy’s hand and brought it up to his veil.

Jimmy watched, entranced as Scott’s perfectly manicured hands unpinned the veil from his clothes. His breath hitched as the fingers disappeared under the white cloth. And in what felt like slow motion, the veil slipped off Scott’s face.

Scott is beautiful. Gorgeous. The rumors were correct. This was a type of beauty no painting could ever translate and no words could describe. Ice blue eyes gazed into Jimmy’s brown and plump pink lips turned up in a nervous smile. Pale skin and rosy cheeks matched his delicate hands, that clutched the discarded veil. Jimmy knew he was gawking but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from his lover's face.

A cold realization flooded Jimmy’s body. How on earth could Jimmy compare to that? Scott was a literal goddess on Earth and Jimmy was, well, a fish. Cod weren’t known for many things, and beauty definitely wasn’t one. Even then, Jimmy looked a lot more fish-like than the other Cod, something he’d always been insecure about, and wearing a veil effectively hid it away.

His eyes were wide and far apart with a small smooth nose between them. His lips were thin and his mouth was wide. Hundreds of green and brown scales covered his cheeks and forehead, save for the small space reserved for his gills.

Nothing about that anybody had seen as beautiful.

“Are you okay?” Scott murmured, reaching over to hold Jimmy’s hand again.

“You’re beautiful,” Was all Jimmy could muster for a response.

Scott laughed softly. “That’s what I’ve been told. Are you okay with taking off yours now?”

Jimmy squeezed his eyes shut and tried to calm his racing heart. After a minute of shallow breaths, he nodded his head.

It felt so surreal watching his free hand lift up to his face. He felt detached from his body as his fingers unclasped the veil. There was no chance Scott would love him after this. He deserved someone much better. Glancing up, Jimmy saw Scott’s soft and understanding smile.

Well, it's better to get dumped now than later.

Mustering up all the strength he could, Jimmy ripped the veil off his face. A surprised gasp was heard from across the bed. Jimmy stared hard at the intricate blankets, convinced this was the last he’d see them. This was probably the last time he’d see any of this room, palace, or any of Rivendell.

Hot tears slipped down his cheeks. It was over. A whole year, the best year of his life, gone. The constant love and affection he’d received, now surely about to be taken away.

“Jimmy? What’s wrong?” Scott asked worried, his voice barely reaching Jimmy’s ears.

He is ugly. He is so ugly. He’s hideous and Scott is gorgeous and doesn’t deserve someone so atrocious.

The tears escalated into sobs. Jimmy’s hands ripped out of Scott's, earning a cry of concern. Shudders wracked through his whole body and he curled into a ball. This was a bad idea. Why did he think he could do this? Why did he think this would ever work?

Cold hands reached into his cocoon of despair and were immediately swatted away. Scott’s panicked shouts sounded from a million miles away.

It was over it was over it was-

Comforting arms wrapped around him. Jimmy’s sobs paused as his body was pulled into his lover's lap, kept in a secure embrace.

“Jimmy,” Scott whispered into Jimmy’s hair “Why are you crying?”

Scott’s voice was gentle and sympathetic. Shouldn’t he be yelling at Jimmy? Shouldn’t he be insulting and berating him? This didn’t make any sense.

Jimmy dared to look up and was met with a face full of worry and fear.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m ugly,” Was all Jimmy could say.

Concern morphed into confusion as Scott glanced over Jimmy’s face.

“Ugly?”

Jimmy nodded. “You’re so pretty and I’m not and now you’re going to leave me forever.”

To Jimmy’s surprise, a soft laugh sounded from his lover.

“Petal,” Scott smiled “My beauty is rotten compared to yours.”

What?

Jimmy shifted in Scott’s lap and faced him properly.

“You really think so?” He whispered in disbelief.

“I know so,” Scott replied, pressing his forehead against Jimmy’s. “You’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen. Why would I ever think otherwise?”

“Because… I look… weird?” Jimmy guessed

Giggles erupted from Scott. “So? I would never leave you for looking weird.”

Embarrassment crept through Jimmy, turning his face red. He groaned and flopped his head on Scott’s shoulder.

“I feel silly now,” Jimmy said, muffled in the fabric.

Scott hummed, reaching up to card his fingers through Jimmy’s hair. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I’m sorry,” Jimmy whispered, shifting his head to face Scott. “I was scared to take off my veil because I thought that you were going to hate me for being ugly. I overreacted a lot and you didn’t deserve that.”

“Thank you for the apology,” Scott cupped Jimmy’s face in his hands. “I promise I will never hate you for how you look. And I’m sorry for pressuring you to do this with me.”

“I’m glad you did,” Jimmy sniffled, “I feel a lot better about myself now.”

“That’s wonderful to hear,” Scott murmured as he pressed a soft kiss to Jimmy’s head. “Do you want to put your veil back on?”

“No. I’m okay now.”

“If you change your mind I promise I won’t judge you.”

Jimmy wiped his eyes and sighed. “I love you petal.”

“I love you too.”

[lurkingshan]

Last Twilight Episode 10

Okay…okay. I have had some concerns about this show on a low simmer for weeks and unfortunately, the direction this episode took has brought them all roaring to the surface.

First let me just say there was a lot about this episode I really loved (anything to do with Night especially). But there are also a few things that did not work for me so well, so let’s take them one at a time.

Mhok’s Story

Mhok’s financial struggles, the prejudice he faces as a formerly incarcerated person, and his deep grief for his sister have been back-burnered for weeks while he and the story focused on Day. I chatted with @my-rose-tinted-glasses about this last week and said that I was reserving judgment and hoped this was an intentional part of the narrative that would come to the fore—Mhok was subsuming his own problems by making Day his entire life, and when he inevitably left the caretaker job he would have to face them again.

Welp, this episode was the moment for that to happen, if it was ever going to, and the show didn’t do it. Instead, they quickly glossed over Mhok’s struggles with two short scenes and a couple lines of dialogue, stuck him in a new job, and went right back to focusing on Day. Will I ever get a Thai bl that sets up class conflict and financial struggles and then actually takes it seriously?? Apparently not today.

This choice to gloss over Mhok’s money problems is also making the romance feel pretty imbalanced, and I’m really mourning the opportunity to see Day be a supportive partner to Mhok like he has been for him. I want Mhok to be a whole person, not an improbably perfect love interest. The lack of reciprocity in their dynamic is not great and it’s holding this romance back from reaching its full potential.

Day’s Mom

Let’s be very clear: Day’s mom’s behavior in this episode was abusive. She was within her rights to fire Mhok, which he knew and that’s why he resigned before she took action. But her choice to intentionally isolate Day and lock him up in his room with no access to the outside world was cruel and selfish. And it doesn’t seem like the show really gets that, given how they presented her and Day through the rest of the episode.

That family holiday scene was really missing the underlying edge it should have had given she was playing the loving mom while doing these things to Day, and other than one brief line from Night that got interrupted, we didn’t see any acknowledgement in the story of how wrong she was, or even get a good sense of how much she was harming Day.

I would have liked to see Day actually seem affected by his isolation rather than focusing on more cute date moments. Bad Buddy was really adept at delivering excellent couple moments while never letting you forget about the underlying trauma and melancholy of the story, but this show is not quite managing to do the same. Moonlight Chicken also has some glorious moments where bad and abusive parenting was called out very directly, so the lack of it here is really jarring. It all feels curiously light for the subject matter and I expected more from Aof.

Day’s Vision

Obviously after the end of the episode this will be the worry on everyone’s mind heading into next week. We know Aof previews can’t be trusted, but it seems clear the surgery is going to happen. Thematically, I do not think it makes any sense for the show to restore Day’s vision. I wish they weren’t going here with the eye donation surgery at all, but if they’re going to do it I hope its purpose is for the procedure to fail as a mechanism to force Day and his family to finally accept that his disability will not be fixed. But given the above noted poor execution on some of the story’s other themes, I am not currently feeling super confident that the show won’t do something very silly here. Fingers crossed!

[theflyindutchwoman]

Hi I’m back.

But mad now.

WHY IS EVERYONE (expect Tim) TREATING MY BABY LUCY SO BAD!?

No one was in that room supporting her after the shooting.

Angela and Nyla treated her like shit, looking at her like she’s less then. Acting like her failing to make detective was actually her own fault!?

The way Nolan fucked up and ends up on fucking tv!? While Lucy “makes a mistake” at a scene and gets taunted!?

No one our girl is spiraling lately. The only person she has right now is Tim. He has been unwavering in his support.

I’m so mad 😤 and then I’m also nervous because next week it seems like they’re making Tim abandon Lucy!? And like wtf is that!? He better explain himself and not join the dark side. He’s all we have for her right now (unless we include Tamara but she’s MIA)

Who do we talk to about giving my baby a better support team and friends!? Jackson would never.

LUCY RISKED HER FUCKING LIFE TONIGHT TO STOP THAT GUNMAN AND A SINGLE ONE OF THEM SEEMED TO CARE! (Again excluding our husband Tim Bradford)

See, I don't know if it's because I saw that hospital scene first - I forgot about the time change so that's the only scene I caught live - but I didn't think they were treating Lucy that badly (or maybe I expected worse). She was the suspect of a shooting, she had to be isolated. That's standard procedure. We saw some of it in 1.08 when Nolan shot someone, killing him in the process. Talia had to secure the scene while he was waiting in the hallway alone. Same when Grey showed up. It's in Lucy's best interest that they follow the procedure to the letter so she can be cleared.

But that doesn't mean people weren't there to support her. Nolan and Aaron showed up for her. They were just waiting outside. Grey was asking how she was doing. The reason why Tim was able to go directly to her is because he wasn't involved in the orginal case or the pending IA investigation. And as soon as they got an update, Grey and Wesley immediately went to her to ease her mind. Now, Wesley's reaction seemed a bit harsh, but in my opinion, he was just trying to warn her of what could possibly happen in the worst case scenario so she could prepare herself. He didn't insist on doing the interview while it was still fresh or anything. Maybe he could have been more empathetic instead of matter-of-fact, but Grey and Tim's reactions balanced him. Especially Tim! I love that final scene of the two of them so much.

I'm going to circle back on the Angela and Nyla thing in another post (I have a couple of asks on that topic as well). But I will say that between the Pentagram killer + the shooting, I'm sure they were both very busy. And again, they couldn't be seen talking to Lucy either. But the look of horror and terror on their faces when Lucy fell down in that alley was rather telling.

Now, there is a part that pissed me off as much as you and that's Nolan getting on TV after messing up… The double treatment is so jarring. I miss the days where making a mistake had some consequences for everyone. The man is like Teflon, nothing sticks anymore.

Anyway, back to Lucy…. I don't think she's as alone as she thinks. She feels isolated, that's clear. I'm going to write about this later once I gather my thoughts a bit more but there was a small moment that I think illustrate this difference of perspective : at the hospital, when she was alone in that room, she saw Grey and Wesley look at her before turning away. We, as the viewer, know that Grey was asking how she was holding up. But I can see how, for her, it would look entirely different. She's in a bad place mentally and it's all piling up. And like you said, it's going to get worse before it gets better, with Tim going MIA. That said, this last scene at the hospital makes me believe that he will have a good reason for not telling Lucy. Most likely because it concerns a classified matter or something like that. I just can't picture the man who was rushing through the hospital to get to her, will suddenly disappear on her when she needs him the most. There has to be more to that story. But yes, moments like these really remind me how much I miss Jackson 😭 You can truly feel his absence. Lucy needs friends.

[ash-rigby]

A Friend In Need (Ambiguous Alien) [M/?]

Featured Characters: Male human and an alien of ambiguous sex/gender. Both are adults.

Description: Gaige is concerned when his workaholic friend and coworker Syren fails to show up for multiple days. He goes to their quarters to demand answers, discovering a needy alien with an unintentionally self-inflicted backup of eggs that they just can’t seem to release on their own. Luckily, Syren’s problem can be solved with a little hands-on lesson in Nynryll anatomy.

Contains: Ambiguous Alien Genitalia, Ovipositor, Egg-Laying, Fingering, Oral Sex, Penetrative Sex, Multiple Orgasms.

Completion Date: January 22nd, 2023

Word Count: 3862

-

Gaige had not experienced true concern for a long time. In all of the years that he had worked at the repair station, Syren never missed a single shift. So it was strange enough that his work partner had failed to be there for three consecutive days.

Syren was good at their job, easily one of the best. An elite in that neck of the star system. If anyone at the station was dealing with a particularly troublesome craft, they would be the one to come along and know the exact course of action. It was almost scary sometimes. Annoying at others.

They were a talented, devoted mechanic and quick to snatch up any overtime. But there was such a thing as being too married to a job and Gaige figured that Syren was finally paying the price. A little sickness might inspire them to slow down.

That was until he was approached by his boss on day three and told that Syren would be on sick leave for the next little while. Sarah couldn’t give any details other than that they would be leaving for Nynryllad in the morning. Gaige felt his stomach drop then; whatever this was, it was bad enough that Syren was going home.

There was no way that Gaige was letting them go without answers. Without at least seeing them. Not when they could die of whatever illness they had on their homeworld and never return. His heart took up an anxious rhythm as he walked to the worker’s quarters after his shift.

Gaige blew past the entrance to his own room and stopped at Syren’s a few doors down. He was instantly knocking on the cool metal. There was no answer for long enough that an image of Syren splayed unconscious on the floor sprang to mind. But the door finally slid open, revealing the tall alien with a slightly pain-pinched face.

They leaned with one hand on the door frame; not with their whole weight, but certainly bracing themself. Their amber, feline eyes lightened somewhat.

“Hm…room service?” Syren said far too casually. They were shirtless, sweat dotting their neck and chest.

“Syren, what is going on?” Gaige pleaded, severely not in the mood.

“I guess I should have expected you. Come in?” Syren offered, gesturing back into the room with a tilt of their head.

Gaige followed them inside. He paused just inside the door, watching Syren make their way to the bed. Their pace was slow and they moved while curled slightly over their abdomen; which looked noticeably swollen when they turned to sit on the edge of the mattress.

“Are you hurt?” Gaige asked.

Syren huffed. “Just my pride.”

“Please, I’m just trying to understand. Sarah said you’re taking sick leave. What for? How bad is this?”

“It’s nothing to get yourself all twisted over,” Syren said with a dismissive wave of their four-fingered hand. “I’m just going for a routine procedure.”

“Proce—surgery?” Gaige’s shoulders sagged. “That sounds exactly like something to get ‘twisted’ over.”

“Routine surgery. Just…embarrassing that it’s come to it.”

“What do you mean?”

“I…need to get my eggs removed.”

“Eggs.” Gaige blinked. “You’re pregnant? Who—?”

Syren chuckled. “You know, asshole, I have offered to explain the anatomy of my species to you before. No. No, I’m not pregnant. Nynryll bodies make unfertilized eggs that need to come out at the end of the month whether to make kits or not and it kind of slipped my mind. I’m dealing with a two-month backup and…coaxing them out myself is impossible at this point.”

It was a lot of information for Gaige to process and his face heated once he came to its conclusion.

“By ‘coaxing’,” he began. Syren looked him in the eye and he suddenly had to clear his throat. “You mean…?”

“Jerking off,” Syren supplied plainly.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, ‘oh’. Or lack thereof in this case.”

The silence was unbearable.

“So…you can’t get yourself off. That’s the problem?” Gaige finally asked.

Syren nodded. “Because of the backup, everything’s too sensitive. I get weak just from touching myself and have to stop before I get there…hence the surgery.”

Gaige stared at Syren, initially surprised at how openly they spoke of their…personal sessions. But the way their legs shifted didn’t escape his notice. Or the way their hands kept absently tracing over their upper thighs, drawing back from travelling between them as if suddenly remembering that Gaige was there.

It hit him at once was Syren was experiencing. Discomfort, but also something else undeniable. They were horny. He could only imagine; unintentionally edging themself for days trying to get rid of those eggs. An endless loop of unsatisfied desperation. Something stirred inside Gaige and a question burst out of him before he could think about stopping it.

“What if you had help?”

“Maybe. But I don’t have a partner,” Syren said. “On the station or elsewhere. And I doubt anyone here would be willing to—.”

“Me,” Gaige interjected. “What if, uh, what if I helped you?”

One of Syren’s long ears twitched. “You’d do that?”

“I…yeah, I would. So long as you’ll have me,” Gaige said.

Syren sat back on their hands, looking intrigued. They seemed to study the human before them and turn over his proposition in their head. Gaige’s eyes roamed their lithe, grey-toned body and his heart began to pound as exactly what he had just offered sunk in.

He had never thought about Syren this way until that moment, but their stark need was unquestionably exciting him. A desire to touch, explore, and help outmatched any reservations. Whether it was the fact that he hadn’t seen any action for a while or something else entirely, he silently begged them to want him for this.

A smile spread over Syren’s features.

“Worth a shot. Better with someone cute, but you’ll do,” they teased.

“Watch your mouth or I’m out of here,” Gaige warned, relaxing with an easy grin.

“Put yours to use and I won’t kick you out,” Syren said, their hands going to their waistband.

They removed their thin, loose-fitting pants and tossed them to the foot of their bed. Half-lidded, burning ember eyes met Gaige’s as their legs spread invitingly. After only a moment’s hesitation, he closed the short distance to kneel on the floor between them. His hands lighted on Syren’s thighs and he drank in the enticing sight before him.

Gaige knew one thing about the Nynryll. They were all the same sex, each possessing both breeding capabilities. He just hadn’t thought to any length what that might entail. It wasn’t as if the alien’s junk had ever been a consideration before. But now, he was face to face with it.

Syren had a grey, hairless slit, but there was also a sheath at the top of it; a ring of flesh surrounding the tip of what was likely their ovipositor. The round bud throbbed hard and fast, clear fluid glistening in the tight space between it and the inner edge of the sheath. The pulse of it was mesmerizing, seemingly the epicentre of the waves of erotic twitching visibly travelling through their pussy.

“It’s been doing that for days,” Syren said. “Can’t exactly come into work with that…distraction.” Their legs spread a bit further as they heaved a heavy sigh. “Fuck, I need this.”

A bead of slick escaped the sheath and dripped down over Syren’s slit. Gaige swallowed and leaned in to catch it with his tongue, tracing back over its path. The reaction was instant. Syren jolted, a quavering keen escaping them.

Gaige jerked away. “Sorry! Was that too—?”

A trembling hand descended onto the back of his head, digging into his hair and pulling him back towards them.

“Keep going…I’m fine,” Syren said. Their voice was breathy and bordering on frantic. They jutted their hips forward, legs shaking.

Gaige nodded and delved back in. He built up slowly, mindful of how overly-sensitive Syren already was. But he couldn’t stop himself for long from getting greedy; the scent and sheer heat they were giving off drove him to it. He mouthed and sucked at their folds, lapping through suddenly excessive fluids that leaked down his chin.

Syren moaned as Gaige all but devoured their pussy. The hand gripping his hair fell away to rest limply on the nape of his neck. He stayed close and buried his face into soft, wet flesh. His tongue found the tip of Syren’s ovipositor, sliding shallowly into the sheath as he swirled around it.

“There…there…more,” Syren encouraged, panting and tremulous.

Gaige obliged, closing his lips around the rapidly throbbing tip and instantly feeling more slick flooding into his mouth from the sheath. He groaned. Syren’s body was so responsive and he loved it.

Not pausing his mouthy affections, Gaige brought two fingers to Syren’s pussy. He prodded the folds until he found their dripping hole. It took him with ease. He found a pulsating, engorged-feeling bulb inside as he bottomed out to the knuckles. Whatever it was, Syren jolted and cried out the second he touched it. Aiming for it, he began to pump his fingers in and out.

The walls surrounding him were hot, squeezing with every inward thrust of his wrist. Warm fluid ran in rivulets down his arm. His arousal rose with Syren’s moans. He could feel his cock pressing insistently against his pants, seeking that incredible hole that his fingers were hogging. Thoughts of feeling it wrapped around his dick made his heart skip. Would Syren let him go that far?

Suddenly, Gaige felt resistance against his tongue. Syren snagged his hair and pulled him away. He hissed but watched in awe as Syren’s ovipositor began to quickly rise from their sheath. It was dark, ridged and bulbous in places. There was a vertical slit towards the base of the pointed head rather than the tip. The entire length was shiny and dripping as it strained fully erect into the air.

Gaige looked up at Syren. Their eyes were glazed, mouth open as they breathed heavily. He spied a single line of drool that had escaped down their face. They listed to the left, propped up only on a shaky arm. Any moment and they could topple completely.

Syren bit their lower lip. “Come on…suck it.”

That Gaige could do. Gladly. He worked his way from base to tip, slowly licking each bulge and ridge. Syren’s legs were quaking. They panted and moaned, their voice cracking to higher pitches. Gaige found their ovipositor’s slit and slid his tongue almost entirely into the surprisingly yielding passage. He stroked them with his hand as he explored, lapping inside the hole.

“Fuck…fuuuck,” Syren cursed, bliss heavy in their tone.

They all but wailed as Gaige closed his lips around their head and brought them into his mouth. The desperate sound spurred him on and he bobbed his head to take them deeper. A weak hand wove into his hair once more as he began to move.

Gaige’s tongue dragged over the line of bumps on the underside of Syren’s ovipositor. It throbbed intensely, leaking down his throat. His nose came close to being buried in their groin with each plunge and a heady musk filled his senses. The scent went straight to his cock, half-hard despite neglect. He was reaching to palm it over his pants when Syren spoke frantically.

“Shit, I’m close! Get off. Don’t ch—oh! Choke,” they said, breathless as they ineffectually tried to pull him off of them.

Gaige heeded the warning and moved back. He replaced his mouth and throat with his hand, vigorously stroking the burning shaft. Syren finally fell back. Their fingers grasped the sheets as they arched. Moans tumbled ceaselessly from them, the only intelligible word being ‘Please’ in near-constant repetition.

Syren’s ovipositor suddenly thickened in Gaige’s palm and the dripping slit gaped open. He saw and felt a line of round shapes working their way up the shaft. Syren cried out, their hips bucking off the mattress as a flood of slick heralded a bright orange, jelly-like orb exiting them. They fucked Gaige’s fist as it was followed by three more.

The eggs thudded to the floor. They were roughly the size of golf balls; no wonder it took so much to pass them. Syren’s body dropped and they lay quietly catching their breath.

Gaige swallowed. “Was that all of them?”

“N-no,” Syren said. “There’s more. I can feel them.”

Rising from aching knees, Gaige stood over Syren. They had their arm thrown over their eyes as their chest heaved. Their ovipositor still stood, its pulse refusing to lessen. Gaige’s hand strayed to his cock.

“Can I fuck you this time?” he asked.

Syren slowly moved their arm, amber eyes gliding into view. They sat up and gave him an impish grin.

“Can’t just be altruistic, can you?” they said. “Not when your dick suffers for it.”

“Is that a turn-off?”

“Hardly.”

Syren turned around, going to all fours. They raised their tail to arch over their back and exposed their pussy. Their ovipositor hung between their legs. Slick dripped in a thin, clear line from their tip to the mattress.

“You’ve more than earned this,” Syren said.

Heart in his throat, Gaige made swift work of removing his shirt and pants. He started to stroke himself to full hardness, his free hand reaching out and groping the soft flesh of Syren’s ass. Their pussy drooled and twitched under his constant gaze, intensely alluring in its silent but evident begging to be fucked.

Gaige’s cock was stiff under his palm in mere moments. He bit back a moan as he guided himself to Syren’s waiting slit, pausing only because the more responsible side of him suddenly shrieked in his mind.

“Do I need…could I get you…?” he asked, more than mildly distracted with the sensitive head of his dick resting on warm, fluttering folds.

Syren managed to grasp what he was asking and shook their head.

“No eggs there for you to get to. I doubt our species’ are compatible anyway,” they reassured. They rolled their hips back invitingly. “And I…I want you raw…do it.”

That was all Gaige needed to hear. He slowly pushed into Syren and bottomed out with ease. It was like silk, soft and inviting. But they were sweltering inside. Gaige could almost sense the deep, needy ache in the walls that were instantly seizing his cock. He could feel slick dripping down his balls as he fully pressed against their backside.

“Shit,” he gasped, breath stuttering as he pulled back.

He made it halfway before being compelled to re-enter; Syren’s greedy pussy practically sucked him in. It clenched around him again and he couldn’t wait to feel it milk him dry. Syren moaned as his hips began to slowly move.

Gaige kept an easy pace, his eyes fixed on the sight of his cock being swallowed up. It was being taken so well. He glided in and out of that unreal hole, his shaft glistening with excessive fluid. The thought that he may not last very long became a concern in his mind—albeit a distant one addled by the desire to cum inside his friend.

Syren panted, their heavy breaths mixing with low whimpers and curses. Their long, quivering tail dropped. It came to rest on one of Gaige’s shoulders, sitting heavily across the back of his neck to touch the other. The tip lightly caressed over the pulse point in his neck before settling.

After just a few more leisurely passes, Syren’s voice took on a more impatient note. They rocked back into Gaige and interrupted his rhythm.

“Harder,” they said. “Harder! I’m not fucking glass!”

Wordlessly obeying, Gaige grabbed their hips and thrust more forcefully. He snapped forward to hit them as deeply as possible. It earned him a series of loud, thankful cries.

“Aaah, yes! Wreck me!”

Gaige moved faster. The dark slate flesh of Syren’s ass bounced and rippled as he collided with it. Slick spilled out around his dick, soaking his groin and leaking down his thighs. He recklessly plunged. Pleasure surged through his every throbbing inch and his unabashed moans rose to meet Syren’s.

“Amazing,” he slurred, fingers digging into heated flesh. He couldn’t remember pussy ever being this good before. It felt conformed to his shape; gripping his cock in a constant, frantic, pulsating squeeze. The supple walls all but burned along his length. “You’re on fire.”

“N-need a big load to put me out,” Syren said, their words wobbling as their body was rocked. “Ngh…how are you s-so thick? Fuck…fuuuck!”

Sweat crawled down Gaige’s face and his heart nearly pounded out of his chest. He wasn’t sure if he could keep up that pace for long. But for the time being, his hips felt puppeted; driving his dick tirelessly.

Syren dropped onto their elbows and their hands scrambled at the sheets. They whined in unstable and cut-off spurts. It came to a head with a single, loud cry.

Gaige stilled deep inside to feel every second of them cumming. Their pussy clenched more rhythmically, clenching in a pattern that ran up his shaft to his tip. A few more heavy plops against the mattress and floor signaled another set of eggs. The wet orbs rolled and came to a stop around his feet.

Syren unexpectedly moved, pulling off of Gaige with a lewd, wet noise. Were they done? While he would stop if they were, his cock still protested, raging and twitching in the open air. His own hand definitely wasn’t going to cut it after that.

“Lay down,” Syren said, reaching out and patting the mattress. “Can’t…can’t have you doing everything.”

Gaige huffed a breath, partially in relief but mostly with incredulity.

“Workaholic,” he said.

“Down,” Syren insisted. “Before you throw out that fragile human back fucking me like a wild animal.”

“Okay, okay.” He gently nudged Syren as he lay down. “You did ask for it though.”

Syren crawled up, hovering over him and fixing their piercing amber eyes on him. They lowered their sopping slit to Gaige’s dick, rocking their hips to rub their folds along his shaft. He watched the fluid motion and shivered as precum leaked onto his stomach.

“I can feel how hard you’re throbbing,” Syren said, chuckling lowly when he groaned. “You were close, weren’t you?”

Gaige cleared his throat. “Y-yeah.”

“Better not leave you hanging, then.”

Syren took Gaige’s cock in their hand and lined him back up with their hole. They sunk down, sighing shakily as they were filled again. After only a moment, they were moving. It was a far cry from the desperate fucking Gaige had just given them; a slow grind on his dick. But it felt just as good. Almost better.

“Mm, shit,” Syren breathed, their straining ovipositor waving with their movements. “So deep.”

Gaige looked up at them and his breath suddenly felt stolen. He watched the way their body moved, undulating in a sensual dance above him. Their impish mouth was cracked slightly as their breaths panted and caught on sweet, little moans. Haloed by the soft lights in the room, their head tossed back slightly to expose their long, kissable neck.

Syren’s thighs shook and Gaige set gentle hands on them.

“You’re…beautiful,” he said.

Time seemed to stop. Syren paused, whipping a wide gaze down to him. There was silence broken only the racing beat of Gaige’s pulse in his ears. Why did he say that? He let out a breath as Syren’s face melted back into that familiar smirk and their fingers lighted on the backs of his hands. Their pussy squeezed around him and they resumed their motion.

“D-don’t get sappy on me now,” they said.

Any rebuttal Gaige had was dashed by tongue-tying pleasure as he was ridden. He laid back, lost in the languid roll of Syren’s hips. Their hands left his and found his chest. They ran over fevered, sweaty skin; squeezing his pecs and teasing his nipples.

Gaige’s breath grew labored, littered with moans. Near-constantly buried to the hilt, his cock pounded. Every however minute stroke of Syren’s tightly-gripping pussy chipped away at his control. Where they connected was a heated, wet mess; each plunge entirely, filthily audible.

Gaige’s head lolled to the side against the pillow as he felt his balls tighten. He couldn’t muster a coherent warning. With rasping cries on his lips, he spent himself. Hot cum pumped out of him and painted the clinging walls. It ran down the sides of his throbbing dick, oozing from Syren’s hole.

Dazed, he registered that Syren had stopped. He caught their gaze as they moved to swipe up some of his release with their fingers. They brought it to their mouth, moaning as they lapped it up.

“So much,” they said, slurred slightly around their extended tongue. “I guess I wasn’t the only pent-up one.”

Gaige reached out with a shaking hand to take Syren’s ovipositor. They gasped as his palm made contact with the hard, aching flesh. He stroked it and they instantly began to profusely leak down their shaft and over his fingers. Their body stayed still, save for ecstatic trembling, but their pussy pulsed with every pass.

“Cum for me again,” Gaige encouraged. “Cum for me, Syren.”

“Gaige…Gaige,” Syren panted, their eyes briefly rolling back.

Just a few more strokes at a quicker pace were their undoing. They cried out as their final four eggs stretched their way from their ovipositor’s slit. Their insides went wild around Gaige’s softening, sensitive cock. He groaned at the sensation, hips giving a feeble buck but settling as Syren’s orgasm tapered and released him from that intense cling.

Gaige grunted as Syren rose off of him. He startled a bit as he felt them laying down at his side and cuddling up to him, but he wrapped an arm around their shoulders all the same. Despite being taller than him, they had situated themself to tuck their head in under his chin.

“Got them all?” he asked.

“We did,” Syren said. “Fucking thank you. I wasn’t looking forward to that bullshit, believe it or not.”

“Well, maybe don’t let it get this bad next time,” Gaige said. He tapped against their soft skin. “Although, if you do…”

“Horny bastard,” Syren admonished, their breath warm on his neck. “But, yeah, I’ll take you up on that…and maybe even outside of those extremes? No strings attached?”

“Oh. Uh, sure. I’d like that…I think.”

Syren laughed, tracing their fingertips down Gaige’s side. “You think?”

“I know.”

“There’s a smart boy.”

The two fell into companionable silence, resting their strained bodies. Just as Gaige thought he might doze off, Syren began to purr. The noise vibrated through their chest into his where it settled warmly next to his heart.

A feeling descended onto him then; desire but situated to the left of seeking casual, physical pleasures. He worked it around in his sluggish mind. Turning it every which way revealed that it was affection—deep affection for his…friend. Syren snuggled further into him and they just fit. Like a piece slotting comfortably into place.

Oh, shit.

End

Masterlist

[bluvlet]

You asked me this, so it seems fair to ask back:

Top 5 in9 episode endings? ^_^

Apologies it took me so long to answer this!! I had to think quite a bit about it.

5. Boo to a Goose

This was the first in9 that I got to watch the night it aired and the ending caught me completely off guard - I was not expecting a dystopian at all! It got me really excited to rewatch it the next day, and when I did it was so satisfying to notice all the little details foreshadowing the reveal. Those seeds were planted so thorough that retrospectively I can’t believe I didn’t pick up on any of it the first time! I’m a big fan of dystopian fiction; the way the ending opens up so many questions about the world these characters are living in just really fascinates me.

4. The Stakeout

Similar thoughts to Boo to a Goose. I think the way the vampiric elements are hidden in plain sight of a police procedural is such a simple yet ingenious take on both genres. Unlike Boo to a Goose, I went into The Stakeout knowing exactly what the twist would be, but it was just as enjoyable to be able to spot in real time where all the seeds were being planted.

3. How do you plead?

Steve and Reece’s ability to foreshadow is just astounding to me at times. Urban’s confession is, I think, one of my favourite twists in all of in9. What the ending reveals about Urban’s character and his relationship with Webster just adds so much dimension to characters I was already invested in. The gradual dimming of the lights throughout the episode until we’re standing in the dark watching Webster falling down into hell screaming and pleading is so so good. The build up of tension in less than 30 minutes really got me on edge - I spent the whole episode just knowing something horrible was afoot, and they did not disappoint. Not to forget Steve’s character being revealed as the Devil!!

2. Bernie Clifton’s Dressing Room

I talk about how different Wise Owl’s ending feels to me compared to the rest of the show; the ending to BCDR is the only episode that comes close to replicating how Wise Owl’s ending makes me feel. It’s not as hopeful as Wise Owl, but there is just something so beautiful about that bit of closure Tommy gets to have. Where Wise Owl’s ending opens a door for Ronnie that his father has kept locked, BCDR’s allows Tommy to close a door he’s had left open. Not too sure if that really makes any sense. The song + dance routine I just adore for many many reasons, and when the music fades into the organ coming from the next room and Tommy leaves to go to it…what a tear-jerker.

1. Wise Owl

I feel the same way as you wrote in your response to when I asked you this question, so I won’t say much. This ending just feels like something else, and I adore it so much. Compared to the endings of similar episodes, it feels a bit like a miracle that Ronnie gets to have such a hopeful ending. The visual of him growing up whilst his father flaps about pathetically behind him, and the beautiful score swelling - so impactful.

[kaiwewi]

Once Upon a Christmas Mission

Secret Santa gift for @chaoticgoodthief Prompt: "Two people with opposite personalities falling in love and balancing each other out." Merry Christmas!! 🎅🎁

Synopsis: Supervillain gives her second in command a new mission. The job, (un)fortunately, comes with a new teammate.

“What do you make of this one?”

“The newbie?”

Frowning, they scanned the newspaper clippings Supervillain had spread out on the desk between them. The lack of enthusiasm on the journalists’ part was plain to see in the five unremarkable blocks of text with unimaginative titles. A small, slightly blurred image next to a short article on a mall robbery a month ago showed the grinning rookie villain dodging out of the way of some local hero’s attack. He held a fistful of jewellery in one hand and a hot dog in the other.

With an attitude like his, one could only wonder how the guy hadn’t been caught or killed yet.

They shrugged. “Amateur. Opportunist. Reckless. Flippant. More luck than brains.”

Supervillain hummed. She wore her impervious poker face. Everything about her posture and tone indicated disinterest. To so unnatural a degree, in fact, that it was fairly obvious she did have an agenda.

They internally groaned. This wasn’t going to end well, was it.

“Why are you asking?”

The corner of her lips twitched with something that might have been amusement at the audible unease in their question.

“No more than simple curiosity,” she said, clearly deflecting. “The other day, he approached me. Asked if we were hiring. Said he’d be eager to join us.”

Of course he would be. Any new villain in the area would grovel for a chance to work even a single job for Supervillain. Instant infamy by mere association. But the newbie’s audacity, bypassing the official procedures and approaching Supervillain directly…

“Ah, great. Reckless, flippant, and presumptuous.”

“So, you do not believe him promising?”

“Promising?” They made no effort to hide their scoff. “All I see is a liability.”

“Or a great asset, under the right person’s supervision.”

“You must be joking.”

That phantom of a smile on her face grew teeth. She was most definitely not joking.

“Surely you could utilise a versatile new piece on the board to its full potential, brilliant strategist that you are.”

“You know I don’t work well with unpredictable people.”

“You work fine with me, don’t you?”

She made that sound like casual banter; it smelled an awful lot like a trap.

“I don’t know why this newbie intrigues you so,” they said, weighing their words carefully, “but, and please pardon my bluntness, I do not want rogue pieces fucking with my game.”

“I’m afraid I need you to give him a chance,” she said as she produced a thin folder from the upper-most drawer of her office cabinet and slid it across the desk, “because I already hired him for this job I’m putting you in charge of.”

“Unbelievable! You could have asked me first.”

She should have asked them first.

“You would have said no.”

Damn right, they would have.

She gestured at the folder. “Christmas Eve. Your target is the Downtown Museum’s special End of the Year Exhibition. Can I count on you?”

Always. And she bloody well knew it too.

They heaved a heavy sigh.

“Fine. One chance. But I swear, if he fucks up…”

***

In the end, as irony would have it, when their meticulously crafted plan did fall to pieces, it wasn’t the newbie who’d fucked up.

He, against their admittedly low expectations, had listened most attentively, had carried out his orders diligently, hadn’t so much as offered a single sign of a contrary disposition. He’d checked in every other minute to report his position, had followed the exact route he’d been assigned at the exact pace they’d agreed upon.

So, as they guided him and the rest of the team through the first stage of their plan – getting everyone inside the museum undetected – they’d had to begrudgingly admit to themself that the only thing that stood out about the newbie was his annoying enthusiasm for doing a fantastic job.

And then, just when they’d started to think that maybe this would be another flawless operation after all, one of their field operatives, Tempest, reported in.

“—s….hing’s wrong. Sec..ity guard in Sector E. Hav. ..en spotted. Abort—”

Her voice cut off. Replaced by nothing but eerily crackling white noise.

It didn’t make any sense. How was there a guard in Sector E? They’d done the maths. They’d checked everything, countless times. Security wasn’t supposed to be in Sector E for at least another 10 minutes.

Not that it made much of a difference now that their cover had been blown.

Abort operation…?

Really the only viable option at this point. But that was unprecedented. There’d been hiccups on other missions, sure, but they’d never had to call for a full hasty retreat before.

Supervillain would be so disappointed.

But they had to. By the looks of it, they’d lost one operative already. They had to get the rest of the team out. This was their responsibility. Their fault. They had to do something before—

“Reporting in,” the newbie’s voice rasped from the radio. “This is Ghost. Current position: Sector E, entrance to Stairwell 4. Assisted Tempest. She is unharmed. But the security guard escaped. And he is not one of the regular crew. I repeat, the security guard is not one of the regular crew.”

Different security. Why was there different security?

They sucked in a breath that hardly made it past their throat and did nothing to relieve them of the tightness in their chest. Then they picked up the radio, and faltered.

Which of the escape routes was least likely to be compromised? It had to be an exit point everyone was able to reach. And quick. That security guard must have raised the alarm by now.

Precious seconds ticked away.

“Exit Strategy B,” they croaked. “I repeat, Exit Strategy B. Abort operation.”

***

A mere 40 minutes after their first failed mission – hardly enough time to begin to come to terms with how badly they’d fucked up, let alone recompose themself – the newbie found them sulking at the little table in the corner of the HQ’s staff kitchen.

If he’d seen them hastily brush some wetness from the corners of their eyes as he entered the room, he didn’t let it show on his face. Instead, he wordlessly walked over and set a tray of cookies down next to their still untouched cup of black coffee.

They couldn’t bring themself to contemplate where he’d found those and they didn’t particularly feel like eating anything either. They took a cookie regardless.

“Great hiding spot,” the newbie said after a moment of tense silence. “Took me forever to find you.”

That’s because they hadn’t wanted to be found.

“What do you need?” they said, speaking more to their coffee than him.

“Nothing. But I’ve got something for you; thought it might be able to lift your spirits.”

Yeah, not bloody likely.

“No thank you.”

“Why not?”

Because they didn’t deserve cheering up.

“I messed it all up,” they said, and it felt like too much of an answer. Too raw. Too honest.

Their voice shook horribly. Pathetic.

“Nah, that was bad luck. Your plan was genius.”

“My plan failed.”

“You got everyone in and out.” He offered a loathsomely genuine reassuring smile. “That the museum spontaneously hired a different security team sucks. Not your fault though. No one could have seen that coming.”

They listlessly stirred their coffee with their cookie and laughed bitterly as it broke apart and disintegrated. Just like their plan. Nothing but lukewarm wet mush.

“I should have considered the possibility. I should have had another contingency plan. You don’t understand, do you? Knowing things, anticipating events, is my job. What good am I to my team when I can’t ever acquire crucial information? I almost got Tempest arrested.”

“But she wasn’t arrested.”

“No thanks to me.”

“You weren’t there,” he said, and somehow made it sound soothing rather than accusatory.

A beat of silence in which they forced another shallow breath into their lungs.

They wanted to scream. But they had to keep their frustration in check, be professional. The newbie didn’t deserve this kind of treatment. None of this was his fault. He’d done great. Without him there…

“Thank you,” they said on the exhale.

“We are a team, you know. You do the research, prepare the operation, brief us. You find us a safe way in and out.” As he spoke, the newbie scooped up a ridiculous number of cookies from the tray. “You’re not a field operative like Tempest and me. Reacting to unexpected events and new information in the field is our job,” he said kindly, then unceremoniously dumped the entire handful of cookies into his mouth.

Like this was coffee and cake at grandma’s and not him obligingly turning a blind eye to the fact his team leader was about to have a most unprofessional breakdown in front of him.

Gosh, it was so very hard not to judge him for his table manners. It was so ridiculous it almost startled a laugh out of them despite everything.

“For what it’s worth—” they tried for a small apologetic smile “—you did do a splendid job out there. I’ll make sure to inform Supervillain about that. I know how eager you were to work with her. I cannot imagine she’ll be best pleased when we turn up empty-handed … but I’ll do what I can to ensure this mess doesn’t reflect badly on you.”

Hazel eyes watched them closely while the newbie chewed and swallowed audibly. He licked the residue powdered sugar off his lips, off the tips of his fingers. The slight creases lining the outer edges of his lower eyelids bestowed a slightly impish quality to his gaze.

The only prominent lines on their own face were those born of frowns and brooding.

His was the face of someone accustomed to grins, smirks, and laughter.

He wasn’t grinning now, of course, but …

They’d expected him to be upset. Disappointed. Anxious, perhaps, that he might have lost his one chance to impress Supervillain. But, if anything, he appeared clad in an air of nervous excitement.

“Soooo,” he drawled, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Speaking of Supervillain … I was wondering. Why didn’t you tell us what we were to steal for her? Why weren’t we supposed to know until we reached Gallery 5?”

“No particular reason,” they said, careful to temper the displeasure creeping into their tone. “It was information you didn’t require prior to reaching the target location.”

The newbie pulled a face and visibly bit back what would have undoubtedly been a snide comment. Instead, he asked, “yeah okay, but what was it?”

“Hardly matters now, does it.”

“Actually, I really think it does.”

They scrubbed a hand down their face, sighed. “How so?”

“Say, what if—” he stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets and lifted his shoulders in a shrug “—I had, hypothetically speaking, ignored your final order, made a breezy lil detour, and used Exit Strategy A instead of B?

“And what if,” he continued, “I had, hypothetically speaking, grabbed a couple souvenirs along the way?” He gave them a sheepish look as he pulled his hands back out of his pocket, producing two messy piles of tangled jewellery and trinkets that he placed on the table between them. “Because, confession time: I did.”

And there it was, amidst all the precious metals and all the valuable stones, their target – the ancient, allegedly cursed, Amulet of the Mothers’ Sorrow.

All they managed was a choked, breathless laugh. Their head swam with so many questions and yet they couldn’t seem to locate enough words to form a single sentence.

The newbie began answering the most pressing of them – HOW!? – without prompting.

“Well. When I pulled that guard off of Tempest, I noticed that shiny keycard hanging right there on his belt, and … I nicked it. Just couldn’t help myself. Grabbed his communicator too. Also wanted to knock the guy out, but he got away.” He made a small disgruntled noise, followed by a snort. “But then the idiot ran down Corridor 14. Like, I don’t think he was even familiar with the museum’s layout.

“Anyway, I figured I’d have at least 4 minutes before he’d find the next phone or reach another guard. And even if he found a panic button, security would still have to regroup first. And with access to the staff elevator … reaching Gallery 5 would take me, maybe, 2 minutes at best. And there I’d already be in the perfect position to use Exit Strategy A.

“Long story short: I know a worthwhile opportunity when I see it. Of course—” and here his voice gained an unmistakable edge “—I hadn’t been told what exactly I was supposed to steal. So I had no choice but to stuff whatever I thought were the most likely candidates into my pockets, hit or miss, and make a run for it.”

He made a vague gesture encompassing his loot.

“Did I get the right one?”

“I—” They cleared their throat and reached for the dark amulet – a filigreed pattern, seemingly liquid, a mercury river delta, against a background of polished onyx – on a necklace with a rich green cord woven through a silver chain, and untangled it from the other treasures. It was so pleasantly warm still from when he’d carried it in his pocket, on his person. His body heat seeping into the palm of their hands as they cradled the amulet to their chest.

They could have cried. Or kissed him.

“Yeah,” they said, barely above a whisper.

“Well then,” he offered, amiably, “lucky you. And maybe next time just tell the rest of us what it is we’re going after.” A grin tugged on their new favourite teammate’s lips. “Merry Christmas.”

The newbie took a bow, turned with an exaggerated flourish, and, humming a festive tune, strolled off towards the exit.

They stared after him, transfixed.

On the doorstep, with the door already opened, he stopped and looked back over his shoulder.

“By the way,” he said, “you got it wrong. Supervillain’s cool all right. But it isn’t her I’m eager to work with.”

~~~

Epilogue: New Christmas Traditions

“How’s the plan for this year’s Christmas operation coming along, darling?”

Their partner came up behind them, slung his arms over the back of their office chair and around their shoulders, and let his upper body go slack. As he nuzzled against the crook of their neck, he leaned on them like a particularly heavy but not at all uncomfortable scarf.

“Almost done.” They scanned the markings they’d made on the map covering half their desk. “I know how to get us inside. Currently working on how to get us out afterwards.”

“My criminal mastermind. Always gotta have at least 3 escape routes.” Their partner chuckled, somewhere between fond and mischievous, and started walking his fingers slowly down their chest.

“I prefer ‘exit strategies,’” they said, and caught him by the wrists before he got the chance to fully launch his tickle attack. “The word ‘escape’ implies opposition or pursuit. Ideally – assuming a certain someone’s antics don’t negatively affect the quality of my work – we’ll encounter neither.” Nevertheless, they turned their full attention to him now. “But should something ever not go according to plan,” they murmured into his hair, “I know I can always rely on my partner’s quick wit and nerves of steel.”

He pressed a kiss below their ear. “Damn right. Those heroes will never catch us.”

“Partners in crime.”

“Partners in crime.”

They shared a hearty laugh and a few seconds of tranquillity.

Then they gestured towards a booklet half-hidden beneath a stack of documents. The catalogue of the current target’s exhibits. “Have you had a chance to compile your wish list yet?”

“Nah,” their partner said, “I think I’d like it to be a surprise. I’ll know which ones I want when I see them. You?”

“I have picked a few favourites.”

“Perfect,” he purred. “You can tell me all about them over dinner. I made lasagna.”

“Perfect,” they echoed.

And that he was indeed: absolutely perfect.

[mariacallous]

An LGTBQ+ pride event usually held along the riverwalk in Tampa, Florida, has been canceled after hard-right Gov. Ron DeSantis signed a bevy of anti-LGBTQ+ bills into law this week.

Tampa Pride President Carrie West confirmed to several local news outlets that the event, called Tampa Pride on the River, would not go ahead in September because it features drag performances at a public venue. One of the state’s new laws targets drag where it might be visible to minors.

In the end, we didn’t want to take any chances,” West told the Tampa Bay Times on Thursday.

“Really, I’m sorry,” West told WFLA, an NBC affiliate.

The event usually draws around 20,000 people to downtown Tampa for food, drinks and entertainment in an area without any fencing, according to a St. Petersburg CBS affiliate.

It is at least the second pride event to be canceled as Florida Republicans continue to attack the LGBTQ+ community. Officials in Port St. Lucie — a city north of West Palm Beach — axed a pride parade last month.

On Wednesday, DeSantis appeared at Tampa’s private Cambridge Christian School with a fistful of Sharpies to sign a number of bills curbing the rights of LGBTQ+ people in his state, which he dubbed “a citadel of normalcy.”

In addition to targeting drag shows, the new legislation bans gender-affirming health care for minors, including puberty blockers, while implementing new rules for adults who elect the procedures. It bars people from using bathrooms associated with their gender identity and cracks down on preferred pronoun use in schools. DeSantis also expanded the state’s so-called “Don’t Say Gay” law to reach classrooms from pre-K through eighth grade, prohibiting in vague terms any mention of gender identity.

The governor tossed the Sharpies used to sign the bills into a crowd of onlookers, PBS Newshour noted.

DeSantis is widely expected to announce his bid for the 2024 Republican presidential nomination in the coming days.