#it tickled me in way i am seldom tickled

[ignigeno]

I met an NPC in Dragon's Dogma 2 who told me about an artist who used a medusa head to petrify monsters so they could safely sketch them at their leisure.

That is the most Artist Thing I've ever heard in my entire life.

[brown-forking-weed]

I do not enjoy living inside the cactus. It is cramped, dry, and above all, filthy. For how can one hope to clean a space one can barely fit inside of to begin with? Even to crawl up to my little hole is an arduous task, for I must carefully scale the slippery ribs of the cactus, blinking back the wind-blown dust, all the while avoiding the rows and rows off prickles that divide me so cruelly from my own front door. And yet, no matter how careful I am, and no matter how my skill in traversing my own doorstep grows with repeated application, it seems to me that it is categorically impossible for me to make the ascent without the spines stabbing themselves into my hide at least a dozen dozen times, often thrice that amount, and by the time I finally arrive at my miserable hovel, trembling with mixed agony and adrenaline, hours and hours have gone by, and only a sliver of the day remains. These scant hours few left to me must, by necessity, be allocated to picking the spines from of my hands and feet, precluding me from indulging in any sort of leisure. I have grown accustomed to this mode of living over the years, and, to some degree, I have developed a dull sort of resistance to the pain of coming home, as if not only my fingers but my nerve endings, too, had calloused over, or eroded from years of constant friction.

Then, when the night descends, the darkness becomes so absolute that I cannot even see the insides of my own eyelids. As I try to get to sleep there come hundreds of insects with assorted pincers and manifold legs. They descend upon me, crawling across my back, tickling the nape of my neck and the space behind my ears, probing with god knows what kind of organs, looking for something, prey, a ripe patch of flesh to suck, a warm fold to procreate and lay their eggs in - I dare not speculate further. I would sweep these insects aside if I could, but alas, it would only provoke their mandibles and their venomous teeth. And so, instead, I simply steel myself, and I try my best to hardly stir. When sleep takes me I seldom dream, but when I do, it is often of far away places.

On the rare occasions that I see other people, often the the first thing ask me why I choose to live in the cactus. It seems impractical to them, I suppose. Why would I live somewhere that hurts me with such consistency, somewhere that maims my flesh and drains me of every ounce of my resolve, somewhere that inflicts such grievous injury upon me, and for what seems like no benefit to me at all? I always find myself unable to reply to their questions. I remain silent, or I change the subject. Usually they don't probe further, or if they do, I evade them in other ways. I can say absolute certainty that not a soul on this earth knows my true thoughts on the subject. But, if I could reply, I would in every case declare that I far prefer shivering in the darkness of the cactus to being scorched by the the merciless heat of the desert sun.

[polutrope]

Hi 😁 I would love to hear your DVD commentary for "Made For Her"!

"Maitimë’s body is the model of womanly beauty: she is all long curving lines, each joint blending seamlessly into the next; and where the lines break continuity — as at her fine collarbones, her proud cheekbones, the sharp line of her nose — these are as artfully placed cuts upon a gemstone.

Elsewhere her body swells — her breasts, her calves, her ass — and it is upon these features most eyes, following the cascade of her shining copper hair, linger.

Few venture to meet Maitimë’s bright grey eyes. She is told (and knows) she has the eyes of her father, twin white flames, and laughs when rumour comes to her that even the princes of Valmar who dwell at Varda’s feet are too afeard to look upon them long.

Maitimë does not mind. It tickles her, such admiration and awe, for no prince or lord will ever have her. “To none will the lofty heir of Curufinwë grant her love,” they murmur, and she plays the part they have given her.

There is only one, too close to be suspected, to whom she grants the enjoyment of her body. And when they move together in ecstasy, Macalaurë worships every part of her with hands and tongue and seafoam gaze. For her sister never shies from Maitimë’s eyes.

Macalaurë’s body is in every way unlike Maitimë’s. Small, wiry, slender and firm, sharp at the knees and hips and shoulders. Her breasts like little dewdrops with blushing pink nipples, the plush bump of her ass, are a secret she keeps behind loose robes, opaque and simply decorated. Her dark hair she seldom lets loose, preferring to knot it behind her head, out of the way of harp and quill. Macalaurë’s body is the instrument of her craft, and it is for her craft that Tirion loves Macalaurë. Nothing will ever surpass the beauty of her music, and so Macalaurë does not try.

But Maitimë finds her sister’s form no less lovely than her song."

How did you think of the premise, did it take you a long time to think of their female forms or did it come to you right away, how do you think they first started doing this, do you have other headcanons about this universe, do you relate to one or the other more, what's your writing process like, how did you get so wonderful at descriptions.... etc etc! Anything you want to tell me I am all ears!

[Made for Her, 1.5k, E]

Predictably, female Maglor came to me first. Maglor exudes gender fluidity to me. But contrary to human binaries, s/he's a bird of paradise. So as a male, he's showy, sumptuous, comfortable with his sexuality, proud (see: Played). So I thought: what if female Maglor moves the opposite direction? Deceptively drab, effortlessly elegant, discerning.

Maitime, Well-Formed One, followed naturally as Maglor's physical foil.

This waterfall smut scene did not take me long to imagine at all 😆. I love slippery sexy times in water, and I love elves in nature. The images came to me in a vision while I was in Shivasana in yoga class hahaha.

I have thought about the broader universe of f!Maemags, though not in much depth. I allude to it here:

They were warned, as girls, that too much of bodily pleasure wearies the spirit. Not theirs. In them the spirit of fire burns, and burns, and but for her sister would burn Maitimë up entirely. Macalaurë was made for her, of this she is certain. Made to tame the heat of her spirit, to match her flame for flame and then to douse her in her watery embrace. 

The Feanorians are soooo incest-coded to me. The way Feanor isolates them from others, takes them on journeys to the 'border of the Dark', the liminal, the unknown. I think Maitime and Macalaure started fooling around early in their girlhoods, before they knew to feel any shame about it. It's a secret not because they are ashamed but because they are that possessive of their unusual love for each other. And secrecy is sexy.

I can imagine f!Maemags being even more codependent, more claustrophobic than m!Maemags. Especially in a patriarchy, where power structures set women apart, force them to find intimacy and community with each other, boundaries blur and dissolve more easily and sometimes uncomfortably. Which I imagine is how things go for f!Maemags in the First Age.

Thank you for your kind words on my descriptions. Descriptions were one of the things I was complimented on early on in my writing, so I seized on them as something to hone that wouldn't be painful.

They're not easy. Crafting a description I'm satisfied with is -- I imagine, because I don't do it -- much like trying to capture an image in paint or clay. The words are my paint, and I experiment with different strokes and colours: syntax, verbs, sounds. And then, with a sprinkling of magic, a sentence takes shape that makes me go, "Yes! That's it. That's the image/sound/taste/sensation." But until I get there I don't really know what it is. It's very satisfying. Similar to solving a math problem (not that I'm a mathematician, but I always loved that feeling of finding the solution). It feels like unlocking the codes to a little piece of the human condition.

So, uh. Anyway. Those are my thoughts on a little piece of p0rn.

Thank you so much for the ask, and for your readership!

[44-moved-44]

Fandoms: Chonny's Charming Chaos Compendium, Animator Vs. Animation, Hollow Knight, Rain World, SCP, Ultimate Chicken Horse, FNaF, Undertale, Centaurworld, Spore, Dungeons & Dragons, Pokémon, Phighting

I don't answer asks asking for money. Please don't send me them.

PLEASE DON'T REBLOG SPAM ONE POST (REBLOGGING A BUNCH OF MY POSTS IS FINE) OR LIKE SPAM!!!

If you're gonna spam me to show love, pls go down the posts on my blog and reblog as many as you can (if you add comments in the tags I will sob with joy /pos)!!!

PLEASE DO NOT TAG ME IN CHONNY JASH/CCCC CONTENT!!!

I get why this is not common knowledge as I only really said it in my Discord server but PLS. DO NOT. I have to be in a mood to handle CCCC content and I get really uncomfortable really easily because of it and it can ruin my mood if it's already bad enough. Thank you.

Mias World fans I'd prefer not to interact with but so long as you don't ship Lychael or Kyer (if you do then HARD DNI, I literally don't care what your reasoning is) you probably can, especially if you're not really into it anymore.

DNI if you ship characters with abusive dynamics. I did not go through horrific situations with people who should've protected me just for some creep on the internet to treat it like a quirky yaoi dynamic. The only exception to this is if it's done to cope and not portrayed in a positive light.

If you're here to cringe at my content, then all I really say is my friend, we don't have to fight. I consider myself a nice friend. We could probably be friends. I'm a good engager, I can match people's energy well even if I don't quite understand the subject. I'm fine with disagreeing on people and seldom make a big deal out of differing beliefs, heck, I'm even friends with a few conservatives. I'm sure we could learn a lot from each other, maybe I could even show you that it's ok to be weird sometimes. Perhaps you just need the change in perspective that I had.

Alright, important "stuff I want people to see instantly on my blog" things out of the way. More under the cut, including:

♡ My other blogs (kin blog, "weird stuff" (SFW) blog, Heart RP blog, hero-villain blog, etc.)

♡ Information about yours truly (about me, hobbies, some neat fun facts, yk yk)

♡ Boundaries

♡ Some useful information, just in-general

♡ Userboxes, cos what good Tumblr blog doesn't have em?

If you're one of the many, many otherkin/otherkin-adjacent/"weird stuff" I followed, my accounts for those will be under this cut. I hope to form a community with you all. :)

"Weird Stuff" Blog (SFW Vore/Tickling, etc.) - DM

Crossover AU Loredump blog - @traumabasin (inactive… for now)

Kin/Venting Blog - @thehearteccentric

Heart RP blog - @heartchonnyjash

Hero Villain/Whump blog - @elsewherereflective (probably shadowbanned idk no one sees my posts 😭)

Extended About Me…

Góðan daginn! I'm AXYER, Chimney, or Heart! AXYER's more of a stage name I prefer to be called if we're not too familiar with each other, Chimney's just a general name, and Heart is more of a friendly name if we're talking more casually. I also go by Axon if we're VERY close, please ask before calling me that!

I am a being birthed by the madness of Entropy that looms on urban towers in the scintillating moonlight dedicated to my resentment of everyone around me. You'd think the God of Moon and Emotion would get a lot more done with this power. You'd be mistaken.

I love psychology, like a lot. I consider myself to be at the point where I even know ✨🔍👁️ Forbidden Knowledge 👁️🔎✨. I'll let you figure out what that means. 😉

My most fondest corners of psychology would be trauma responses, child psychology + child development, behavioural psychology, and the effects of internalisations and conditioning. I'm veeeeery well-versed in mental illness but I don't consider it one of my primary psych interests. I know most about anxiety disorders!

I'm also VERY VERY big into writing!!! I absolutely LOVE fiction, and I think it's a very vital thing for a lot of people's happiness. Fiction is magical, and I think it's beautiful how much it can shape people and their sense of what makes them happy. I LOVE crossover AUs, like, REAAAAAAALLY REALLY love crossover AUs, like, basically every single one of my main stories are crossover AUs, like the kind where five-hundred different fandoms exist in one big town together.

I also love zoology, sociology, astronomy, biomes, modern Iceland/Icelandic culture, winter/night aesthetics, fashion, trains, photography, coding (I'm just starting, though!), and a few more my busy brain can't afford me to think of right now. My main interests in psychology are trauma responses and my main interest in writing is character-writing and worldbuilding!

I consider myself an honest person, and I really don't like lying to people. I try not to be blunt but it slips out sometimes, and I really dislike sugarcoating things. If you need honesty, I want to give you honesty! I don't think people can properly change if they're not given a right step in the right direction, so I try to be as honest as can be. If I don't feel like I can be honest with you, often times that's a bad sign in our friendship. Honesty is a big thing to me!

I find that getting immersed in a good story is very healthy for the soul, just as long as you don't wade too deep that you can't pull yourself out. My dreams are to bring my silly, self-indulgent stories to the world and help people get lost in them, too, even if for only a little bit. Nothing brings me more joy than the idea of helping people get lost somewhere they feel safe, if not thrilled from the drama rather than poisoned.

If you're interested in any of my stories, I'd be happy to share a bit about them!

The primary ones would be:

-Pillow Club, a very self-indulgent AU where fictional characters from all sorts of worlds beyond the perceivable multiverse live inside of modern rural Iceland, with a lot of supernatural worldbuilding but ultimately restricted to urban fantasy. The main cast lives within the Pillow Club, a big, apartment complex-esque building where characters live for free at the cost of stricter living conditions, run by a certain well-known rabbit serial killer man with a lot of secrets. It's intended to have similar stakes to a more exaggerated, supernatural slice-of-life version of reality; there's no overarching goal, characters go about things as they do and conflicts and goals change as life happens. The main protagonists are all from niche to semi-niche stories, namely my AUs of the such.

-Untitled Chonny Jash AU (yes that's the actual AU name), a Chonny's Charming Chaos Compendium AU in-which Cameron (Whole), a severely tormented child, suddenly has two bizarre animal-like creatures split off for him after becoming emancipated at only (roughly) thirteen. The two ids, Heart, an angelic, purple id with a boisterous and friendly disposition, and Mind, a robotic, shark-like blue id with a much more reserved, awkward, and stoic (yet well-meaning) personality come to be Cameron's only joy in life, and he raises the two the best he can (which thankfully, they age extremely fast) and they're one happy family, until Cameron loses his humanity and becomes an id as well. Heart and Mind not only face hurt from Cameron's family, but soon, Cameron himself; now Soul.

-And finally Elsewhere Reflective, which you may learn about on my superhero account. :)

In-case you can't tell, I have a knack for extreme canon-divergence. It's just how I roll.

As for DNI? Well, DNIs aren't exactly… known for their effectiveness. All I'll say is if you're a com-shipper, I'm blocking you, you're mean and you make me extremely uncomfortable and I don't want to fight you. I do also tend to block for whatever reason, if you simply make me uncomfortable I'll block you. No hard feelings.

Oh also Jashshippers. Jashshippers get out, like now, like, right now.

I'm also a (Villain) Heart fictionkin! I'm not comfortable with other Heart fictionkins (or any type of Heart identifier, really, even if it's only one of your identities), so I apologise.

Anyway, I am EXTREMELY tired! So long, and thanks for stopping by to read! I'm sure we can get along even if we don't agree on much, I'm not the type who likes to argue. And if you don't want to be friends, that's fine too. It's just nice seeing ya stop by. :) (hey guess what past Axon, I'm updating this, you're welcome.) (hey guess what past and past past Axon, I did it again) (hey guess what you three, I'm editin it again)

DISCLAIMER: If you ever end up identify as Heart or anyone from Mias World (Heart copinglinks/fictionhearted/synpaths thin ice, but omitted from this), there's like a ninety-nine point-nine percent chance I will block you unless we're already super duper close. No hard feelings! My widdle stoopid brain can't handle it is all.

More added as I went back to this post:

As mentioned and implied several times now, I HATE arguing and I am TERRIBLE with conflict. I'm willing to debate so long as you're polite about it and can agree to disagree (without insulting myself or my intelligence, Shae), but generally speaking I don't like to fight people and am an extremely sensitive person.

Here's the things I absolutely will not discuss:

-My stance on DID/OSDD, there's a lotta misinformation and disagreement on a lotta things on it so I'm just not comfy talkin about it m'ny'alright? I'll say two things: it's a real disorder and anyone who accuses people of faking things are losers.

-Trashtalking, I dealt with it enough at my old house and have dealt with it enough in the past at an all-girls highschool and I do not condone it whatsoever. I'm fine if you need to vent or you're just telling me an interesting conflict in a friend group (that I am NOT apart of!!!!!! Do NOT make me your rumour person knucklehead!!!!!) but I draw the line at genuinely insulting people and spreading rumours!

-My stance on the USA election. Another "you can't win" situation. Please leave me out of most politics in-general, I try to avoid that on this blog as I want my blog to be something I can look back on and not feel stressed about. Yes, I hate Trump.

-Tumblr controversy. I try my very hardest to be nice to everyone regardless on if I like them or not and if you let me know they're not cool, I'll distance myself, but please don't try to go after me if I'm still nice to them. I'm quite literally nice to everyone lest you REALLY hurt me, which only a select few people have and even then none of them are allowed on this blog.

Tumblr hate asks are open you will get a free kitty video 😌

@nkgrimmie kys

Tags…

(I can't guarantee there's content for all of these yet)

#axyer psychology moment - I talk about psychology.

#untitled chonny jash au - I talk about Chonny Jash AU (that also belongs to nkgrimmie) where Heart and Mind are sort of aliens who love to argue for fun and also Soul sucks.

#pillow club - I talk about my extremely multifandom crossover AU that takes place in the middle of nowhere in Iceland. Do you like tired depressed scrawny men? Do you like characters from completely different universe having relationships you'd never thought of but now you're curious about? Do you like a lengthy plot-line following complex trauma arcs? Do you like extreme canon-divergence? Do you like robot dilfs? Then stay tuned. (Update: you will probably only find this on @traumabasin)

#important - Anything that's important.

#axyer eats a canvas - Art (if I remember this tag exists).

#axyer stories - I tell stories.

#axyer rant - I rant about something. Be prepared, I am an extremely passionate person and am usually wrong about at least one thing; please correct me. But politely.

#happy hour - Happy little enjoyable things. :)

#*unfurls scroll* hmmhm yes - I figured I needed a reblog tag, so here it is!

#cool people things - Reblogs/interactions/whatever with my homies.

#extremely cool people - Reblogs/interactions/whatever with a ROACH.

#laughter is truly in my pants - This post made me laugh.

#the blues and greens - Favourite posts.

#embracing this harmony - All-time favourite posts.

[samatheia229]

Gateway Fic or Ruining of Canon?: The Double-Edged Sword of Reading Fanfiction Without Knowing the Source Material

One thing you should know about me is this: I love Outsider POVs an unhealthy amount. I have a separate tab open for this specific tag on my browser and I obsessively reload it every few hours. There’s just something about them that uniquely tickles my brain in a way that other kinds of fics don’t. Maybe it’s some sense of schadenfreude, reading from this out-of-the-loop perspective while we, the readers, are in the know. The feeling of “I know something that you don’t.” Maybe it’s getting to see our favourite characters from a fresh perspective. 

In DC comic Outsider POVs, specifically Batman ones, we get to see what Gotham thinks of their resident vigilantes and how the Bats’ dynamics with each other looks like to an outsider, who doesn’t know the full extent of the intricacies of their relationships. 

There are a lot of reasons why I enjoy Outsider POVs, one of which is the main point of this post.

PART I: GATEWAY FIC

I really do owe it to the POV Outsider tag. Because of it, I have been introduced to so many new fandoms. They've been either the final push I needed to get into fandoms that I knew of but was never really interested in or blindside me and pull me into a new fandom entirely. 

Reading spooky eldritch Danny POVs finally got me into Danny Phantom. One bored scroll and random click introduced me to ROTTMNT, a new favourite of mine (as a Disney kid who grew up with 2012 airing and disliked it, suffice to say Rise's magic and vibrant art was what drew me in). I read a Julie and the Phantoms Outsider POV fic out of curiosity, which made me look it up, and the phenomenal music was the final nail in the coffin. (Please do yourself a favour and listen to the soundtrack.) The onslaught of Good Omens fics flooding the tag following the release of S2, not that I knew it at the time, prompted me to check it out, and lo’ and behold, I am waiting for S3 and praying for my cottagecore-husbands happy ending. Reading a social media AU for Red, White and Royal Blue pushed me to finally buy the book. 

They’ve also gotten me back into fandoms. I fell in love with ATLA again after reading a fic about the palace staff’s opinions on Fire Lord Zuko during the start of his reign; I got back into Assassination Classroom and Haikyuu because of delightful outsider fics. I also started reading Miraculous Ladybug fics again after dropping the whole thing mid-S3, which was a nice full-circle moment since MLB is what got me into fanfic in the first place.

The point is, Outsider POVs have been my gateway into a lot of amazing fandoms that I would not have otherwise checked out and my way back into fandoms that I haven’t been in for a while. 

However, reading fanfiction without knowing the source material can be a double-edged sword. And as of last month, I finally cut myself with it. 

PART II: RUINING OF CANON

Fanfiction is never really an accurate portrayal of canon. By very definition, it cannot be and it seldom is. Fanfiction has a warped lens — characters, their dynamics and the worlds in which they inhabit are written based on an author’s interpretation of the source material. Most fanfic authors actively try to change the source material when they find a part of it lacking or unsatisfactory. That’s the point of fanfiction. Fanfiction exists to explore the infinite possibilities of worlds that could have been, of timelines that never came to pass, of relationships that could have been forged and nurtured but never were. 

But what happens when you, as a reader, are exposed to fanon first? What happens when you end up liking fanon more than canon? 

The short answer: Disappointment and a smaller bank account.

The long answer: You could say that I had it coming. I never really liked dark fantasy, but I love every Six of Crows fanfic I’ve read so I finally decided to read the books. But, gods, I am struggling. And it sucks so much because I do love the characters and Ketterdam and the Suicide Squad-like concept. I can read fanfic for 5 hours straight but barely make my way through a single chapter. I tried switching to another book and coming back to it and still, I trudge through it. It’s terrible. Have I fallen for a romanticised, fanon version of SoC that delivers the found family of criminals that I was promised? Do the books not have that vibe and that’s why I can’t get into them, because I’ve been riding on false expectations?

This is a first for me. I have no issues with spoilers and such because I still enjoy knowing how we got to that point as much as I enjoy going in blindly. I learned the entirety of BNHA via osmosis by reading fanfiction but I still liked the anime when I watched it. Similarly, I read PJO fanfiction long before I read the series, and I still had a delightful time reading Percy's adventures. The fact that I’m not experiencing the same thing with SoC is truly, deeply upsetting. I’m still holding out hope since I'm already halfway through but I might have to DNF if this drags on for another month.

TLDR; There’s nothing wrong with reading fanfic of fandoms you’re not a part of. It might get you into it like the numerous times it did for me. But it could also end up with you liking the fics more than the source material. So, be warned, I guess. 

(Also, if someone has a solution to my SoC problem, do advise, please and thank you. DNF is a last resort.)

[featherlight-touches]

Hellou~ hope you're doing well!

I saw your request were open and since I adore your work I couldn't help myself here-

Could it be possible to ask for some Lee Cyno with an annoyed ler alhaitham? I really like your dynamic for the four of them, but the interaction possibilities for these two is a rare treat✨️

Have a good day/ evening or morning ♡

Hello Mochii! I hope you're doing well too! ♡ ahhh, thank you so much for the request. For you, a small lee!Cyno and an annoyed ler!Alhaitham! or at least, a grumpy Alhaitham... he's out for blood, yes! I hope you enjoy!

★・・・★・・・★・・・★

“Tighnari, move, run, now. Gogogo!” Kaveh’s panicked but quiet voiced urged, already pulling Tighnari up from his seated position on the sofa. The book in his hands dropping to the cushions.

“Wha? – Kaveh, what’s going on?” Tighnari asked in confusion before his ears twitched to the unmistakable sound of footsteps charging through the house. Yep, it was indeed time to move. “Not again…”

“It’s a rampage and I’m not getting stuck in the middle of it,” Kaveh hastily escorted Tighnari to the safety of their bedroom.

During their game of Genius Invokation TCG, Cyno had managed to get under Alhaitham’s skin.

Again.

The footsteps belonged to said duo, as Cyno narrowly escaped Alhaitham’s wrath while running around their shared home.

“I’m not certain as to why you’re so upset, Alhaitham,” Cyno smirked from behind the sofa, managing to circle around to the other side as Alhaitham followed after him. The scribe’s face was unreadable, which was terrifying in itself. “You knew from the beginning that I was going to be victorious. You never acted out before despite my many victories.”

The silence was deafening, Alhaitham’s eyes piercing into Cyno’s from across the sofa. Cyno knew full well he was being a brat, it was a rare moment of playfulness that he would seldom share with his partners. Alhaitham just happened to be his target for today.

Alhaitham knew of Cyno’s competitiveness but accepted it as part of the challenge. Today, however, Cyno decided to take it a step further and relentlessly teased the scribe.

“So, care to tell me what the problem is?” Cyno asked, preparing to run around again and make a dash for the bedroom should Alhaitham try to chase him around the sofa again.

“You.”

Alhaitham wasted no time in throwing himself over the back of the sofa, catching Cyno off guard as the scribe’s strong arms encased him and yanked him down to the plush cushions, Tighnari’s abandoned book crashing to the floor.

Cyno’s eyes widened in surprise, stunned by his sudden move.  

“You’ve been quite the nuisance today, Cyno,” Alhaitham said. “Very unlike you, I have to say. Kaveh, I can understand. Sometimes, even Tighnari.”

A pair of muffled ‘hey!’s came from the bedroom which was seemingly brushed off.

“Any particular reason you decided to behave this way? And if I were you, I would choose your words very carefully, or else.”

“Are you seriously threatening the General Mahamatra?” Cyno questioned, his body testing just how pinned he was.

“Of course not, I’m not an idiot.” Alhaitham leaned closer. “I am, however, threatening my beloved partner Cyno.”

Cyno could almost feel his face heating up at such words coming from Alhaitham. He only huffed as his response, which fed into the scribe’s annoyance.

“Now then. What is it you usually say?” Alhaitham’s fingers barely traced the soft skin of Cyno’s bare sides, causing an immediate flinch. “Oh, that’s right. Judgement is upon you.”

“You-!” Cyno was cut off from his planned insult and let out a stream of giggles as Alhaitham gently scribbled his fingers up and down his sides. It was no secret that the General was ticklish, and it was often used against him from his partners. “Ahahaha! Stahahap!”

Alhaitham’s fingers dug into his ribs and vibrated in just a way that sent ticklish waves throughout Cyno’s trapped body, forcing out some humorous cackles. He could almost tell just by the intensity of the tickling just how annoyed he managed to make Alhaitham.

“Why should I stop? You don’t deserve my mercy, at all. In fact, with your behaviour, one could even conclude this is exactly the outcome you wanted.”

“Nohoho!”  

Out of their partners, Alhaitham played dirty the most when it came to the rare tickle fights that he involved himself with. His nimble fingers pinpointing each tickle spot with expert precision and targeting them in such a manner that it was almost impossible to predict which spot would be attacked next.

Cyno started to regret his decisions and wished he targeted Kaveh instead. At least he would have shown some mercy by now. For now, he was forced to cackle and laugh out as the scribe tickled under his sensitive underarms.

“Plehehehease!” Cyno resorted to begging, the tickling becoming too much.

“If you apologize, I may consider it.” Alhaitham reasoned, poking and tickling his abs like a piano, feeling how Cyno’s stomach quivered beneath his touch.

“Fohohor whahat?”

“Being a complete nuisance.”

Cyno shook his head through his laughter, clearly needing more persuading by Alhaitham. He knew exactly where he needed to target to get his apology.

The brief pause of his tickles gave Cyno a moment of breath, but as soon as he felt Alhaitham shift lower he started to panic.

“No, no! You’d better not! Alhaitham! I’m warning you!”

“Hm?” Alhaitham paid no attention and brought his fingers to Cyno’s foot. The feeling of them close alone to his sensitive soles was enough for Cyno’s whole foot to jerk away.

“Don’t! – AHAHAHAHA!”

Cyno howled with laughter, making Alhaitham grateful for the noise cancellation headphones in this moment, but he couldn’t help the proud smirk he wore at the sight of reducing the General Mahamatra to a puddle of helpless laughter.

“Is that an apology I hear, Cyno?” Alhaitham taunted, his fingers scribbling up his sole to his toes which Cyno erupted from.

“YEHEHES, I’M SOHOHORRY!”

It was over in an instant. Alhaitham got what he wanted and that was enough for the torture to end. He removed himself from the sofa where a flustered and exhausted Cyno lay to regain his strength.

“Yohou’re a cruel man, Alhaitham.”

“Yes, yes. Maybe next time you’ll question whether it’s worth it to mess with me.”

Cyno groaned in defeat but keeps it to himself that he will definitely be messing with Alhaitham again in the future. For now, he leaned up and glared at the bedroom door his other partners escaped to.

“So much for helping me,” he mumbled to himself and looked down at the book that Tighnari had left behind and an evil smirk formed upon his lips. “Oh, Tighnari,” he called out casually, and headed to a pair of unsuspecting targets.

[rockerb0y]

     ❝  as much of a chance as a one-legged guy has at winnin' an ass-kicking contest but hey, don't let that stop you. if you've got such an insatiable hankerin' for my  sloppy seconds,  got my blessing to give it the old college try. over at the afterlife, getting your balls publicly busted by rogue is practically a rite of passage so far be it from me to deny you of that. the regulars don't mind a show — more  bang  for their buck, really.  ❞

     ACIDITY  bled through the cracks of seasoned sangfroid, inwardly envenomed by her name's targeted mention as lidded stare held with steadfast focus. limerence for rogue had long since receded into comfortable  amity  yet neither lacked the will to meaningfully sever attachment. unequivocally was he certain that she still spoke of him in the same manner: callous and paired with vituperative affront to mask persevering bias. regardless of their  unamicable  separation years ago, enough familiarity existed between the two of them to conduct an educated assessment on rogue's taste in partners on her behalf and corporates seldom enticed her  consummate  palette; rogue's standards may have questionable on occasion but never to an  inexpiable  extent.

          she was damn lucky to have him in her corner.

     ❝  endgame's gonna happen with or without me, choom.  i'm just flint for the fire. want people to know that 'saka isn't as indestructible as it seems, that megacorps can still bleed like the rest of us. they need  you,  not the other way around. the more people wise up to that, the closer we get to a systemic overhaul. the masses have a right to know what's at stake and who they're fightin' this war for — or fuck it, maybe i  am  doing all this simply 'cause i like the sound of my own voice. either or, maybe both. dealer's choice.  ❞

     whiskey glass lifted pointedly towards his corporate counterpart before a mouthful of smoky amber conquered thirst, thin wisps of cigarette smoke twining and coiling into themselves during cursory interlude. denunciation of his temerarious disposition and methods was expected and while the screamsheets were repeat offenders with their  inculpatory  smear tactics, an in-person confrontation boasted a certain  intimacy  which couldn't quite be replicated in text. provocation and mutual pillory fueled engagement and fortified attention proper, far more than  unreciprocated  derision ever could.

     ❝  got some good news for you, though. not too late to switch sides. you can chalk it up to entertainment, morbid interest, or something else entirely — don't give a shit, whatever tickles your taint. fact is, your eyes are on me and  something's  sticking if you're here to pick my brain. you know i'm not just spinnin' my wheels. arasaka won't twice about taking you out to pasture after they've squeezed you dry of all value, tenure be damned. no severance to pay if the body's cold and  guarantee  that they'll come to collect.  ❞   tautly between index and middle finger did the cigarette remain captive, even as paired digits motioned towards the other to accentuate outspoken evaluation.   ❝  you're a tax write-off, an asset which isn't paid to think for itself or have any kind of identity. they  own  you, in life and in death —  that's  the fine print on your contract,  that's  what happens when you hand them the leash. it's  your  endgame until you grow a spine and bare your teeth.  ❞

     lungs swelled with a prolonged inhale which further  deteriorated  nicotine supply, more ash joining the tray's plentiful pile as it was tapped loose. not unlike his patron, his own cigarette was tragically nearing its end but its quietus was detained by a desire to first deliver appraisal's denouement; a replacement had already been passingly contemplated.

    ❝  won't get a  christmas bonus  for sniffin' around the rubble when it all comes crashing down — figuratively speaking, that is. maybe you ought'a think long and hard about whether you're genuinely  satisfied with how things are and why. tell you this much, most  purebred  corpos don't seek me out to play a round of twenty questions or offer up a cig in good faith. should consider what that says about you.  ❞

the cherry at the tip of his cigarette flared a bright, angry red, mirroring the mocking glint in his spheres, his structure finding repose once he leaned back. the insurgent's swagger, that effortless rebellion laced with bitterness, was as loud as the city's ever-present hum outside, yet it never failed to amuse ryker. ❝ expense it? hell, johnny, you act like i didn't already file that under 'corporate entertainment' last quarter. ❞ his tiers curled into a sardonic grin, the kind that spoke of an arrogant amusement more than any real sting. ❝ let the execs think i'm winin' and dinin' some foreign dignitary. you? ❞ he flicked his cigarette, ashes falling into the pristine ashtray betwixt them, his gaze, however, naught but cemented on the other. ❝ yourre just the sideshow. the flavour of the night. ❞ he let his words simmer for a moment, the smirk never leaving his lineaments. they both shared a recklessness that was almost innate... but ryker himself used it to scoff at from his tower, back when he was drowning in corpo luxury and blinded by his own ambition. now, however? he saw the cracks in the system. the rot. and johnny, with all his rebellious bravado, was starting to look more like the antidote to a poisoned world than the joke he used to be in ryker's mind.

❝ what am i hoping to get outta this? mhm, silverhand... maybe... i'm here for the entertainment value, pure and simple. watching you tilt at windmills is like my favourite late-night show: tragic, but entertaining. though, i mean... if your band ain't working and you need extra cash... well, we can always discuss other options. ain't using my hand when i can have another. ❞ he paused, the cigarette hanging loosely betwixt his digits whilst his smirk hardened, almost predatory in its amusement. ❝ besides, we both know you're the one who's always on the clock, even when you don't want to admit it. got that rebel brand to protect, don't ya? can't let the world forget that you're the big bad rocker boy who'll take down the system one power chord at a time. ❞ he gestured vaguely, his cigarette tracing an invisible arc through the air, mocking the grandiosity of johnny's cause. ❝ just curious about your next move... i'm a great listener, you know? ❞

but even whilst he mocked, there was a flicker of something else in his gaze ⸻ respect, buried deep beneath the layers of sarcasm and cynicism. because no matter how much he taunted johnny, no matter how much he enjoyed poking at the cracks in his armour, ryker could not deny that he had guts. the kind of guts that had started to appeal to ryker more than the cold, calculated world of corpo backstabbing ever had. he had spent so long playing the corpo game, bending to the system's will whilst pretending he was in control. seeing johnny, someone who refused to bow, ryker could not help but feel a flicker of… what? envy? mayhap. ❝ let's be real... you're not just in this for shits and giggles. you're not just throwing Molotovs 'cause you like watching the flames. you've got a plan. a real one. ❞ he crushed the cigarette in the ashtray, leaning forward slightly. ❝ would you like to share with your old friend what's your endgame? ❞ for once, ryker was not mocking. he was not taunting. he genuinely wanted to know. because if there was one thing ryker had learned from his time in the corpo world, it was that everyone had an agenda. everyone had an angle. ❝ i've spent so much time in afterlife to hear your name everywhere... and rogue, oh... damn, you think i might have a chance with her? ❞ and there he was, with jest crawling in, if only to stir the fire.

[torawro]

2 A.M. ( dabi )

pairing ! ━━  touya todoroki x  black!fem!reader

cw ! ━━ explicit content, minors do not interact. classic “sneaks-into-apartment in the dead of night” scenario. soft / calm touya bc he feeds my soul and makes me cry :’) . mentions of smut + descriptions of creampies. insecure thoughts / feelings from reader. tiny bit of angst. established situationship that turns into a relationship . fluffy fluff things all around <3.

word count !  ━━ 2.5k

notes ! ━━ imagine that dabi looks like this btw. im just so in love w him i feel ill i could cry. this was inspired by me listening to 2 am by sza around 2 a.m. ( also partially inspired by heartbreaker by kaash paige ). ive been wanting to write more dabi content for a while now and i just . . . had the urge to write this when i very well should have been sleeping. n e ways ‘m feeling real soft rn so enjoy <3 reblogs are HEAVILY appreciated !!

     IT FELT A LITTLE CHILLY, but not too cold for it to be bothersome. damn touya for not closing the window after he came up here, you thought. he tends to forget menial things like that.

you probably didn’t feel all that cold because you had a six foot, life sized furnace half flung on top of you, soft snores emerging from his mouth in a rhythmic pattern. his body emanated a soothing, steady stream of heat, effectively penetrating your flesh and negating the cold winds from outside.

one arm nearly hung off the edge of the bed, while the other was tucked under your waist, subconsciously holding you close to him. his face was snug against the crook of your neck, nearly laying on your chest, and tufts of his silvery white hair tickled your cheek. his skin felt charred against yours, but warm and constant. familiar. you’d grown used to how it felt against your mocha skin, even craved it some times.

his shifting to get even closer to you— if that was even possible— caused you to move as well, and such subtle shuffling caused your brain to remember the sticky substance staining your pussy lips and the fabric of your panties that rubbed against them. 

the bodily fluids that leaked from your stretched out cunt belonged to the criminal sleeping peacefully on top of you, mixed with your own previous arousal. “i gotta keep you f-full baby, need to keep you stuffed because.…” you didn’t quite catch what he said after that, your brain was too scrambled and fuzzy from the most passionate sex you’ve had in a while, if not ever.

the feeling of his seed threatening to drip and ruin the freshly changed sheets, in addition to touya holding you so closely, as if he needed you to help him sleep, made you feel wanted. it made you feel a different kind of warmth than the heat that burned through your veins during and after sex— no, this one was different. it made you feel like you belonged, like you were someone’s one and only.

you were sleepy, but couldn’t seem to drift off into the land of slumber that you so desperately wanted to float to. instead, your tired gaze was fixed on touya and his peaceful figure. you were jealous of how seemingly easy it was for him to fall asleep.

and then, your eyes flitted to his many, wide spreading scars and your brows slightly furrowed. you were very aware of what he does, what he could do, and how a job like the one he had was seldom merciful enough to offer a moment of real rest to those involved. your nerve endings sparked and crackled throughout your body, causing your hand to move on its own to gently caress touya’s cheek, letting your skin truly mold with his for a moment, ignoring the rough feeling of his burnt flesh or the metal staples under the pads of your fingers. the moonlight illuminated your face through the blinds, and a faint smile was visible on your lips.

he was so beautiful. so tragically beautiful.

and then, with no previous indication, your thoughts went astray to a somber, much darker part of your subconscious. the dam that held back your intrusive thoughts began to crack the longer you peered down at the sleeping man next to you. 

this thing you had going on with him, you didn’t expect it to bring you so much comfort, or such a state of bliss and serenity. this thing wasn’t even real— it wasn’t official, there was no title, he didn’t bother to stay when the sun rose from its own slumber behind the skyscrapers of the city. and then you thought, of course he couldn’t stay here. he was a criminal, a wanted man with a deep and ugly past that you’ve only had the pleasure to dip your toes into one singular time: when he revealed his given name to you. but even that didn’t feel genuine; he mindlessly begged you to call him by his government name when your legs were thrown across his shoulders and he was bucking his hips languidly into your dripping heat. surely, he knew what he was saying then if he was that insistent about it.

and it surely couldn’t have meant anything to him. you probably didn’t mean anything to him.

and yet, over the few months that this interaction had been occurring, no matter how hard you tried to keep your heart from slipping and falling off the deep end of the cliff, you couldn’t help but want something more from him, something more permanent. you wanted to be his, you wanted him to be yours, through the good, the bad, the ugly and everything else in between.

you wanted him to look at you like you were the only person on this whole, godforsaken planet, like you created the very stars, moon and the sun that hung in the sky. you wanted to spend every day like this . . . just like this. in this little sanctuary of your studio apartment, away from the horrors and strife and unrest of the rest of the world. just here, with him. 

you brushed your fingers against the hardened skin of his back that laid across your torso. and there was always that nagging feeling, the feeling of the string tied to your ankle that brought you off cloud nine. not everything you desired was possible.

this was probably just a stress reliever for him, you pondered as you distractedly scratched his scalp, just something to do in the meantime. and even if that was the case, for now, you decided that you were okay with it. to be okay with this fleeting moment of indulgence and mentally prepare for the moment it slips through your fingers by the time you awoke in the morning. 

turning your head a little, you planted a sweet, chaste kiss on his forehead and snuggled further into the mattress. you should really try and get some rest. 

just as you closed your eyes and your body relaxed, a deep groaning noise rumbled from the white haired man on top of you, causing your eyelids to pry open again. 

you met touya’s equally tired gaze, actively fighting the urge to kiss the sleepy pout on his lips. “mmm . . . . ‘t’s wrong, baby? you good?” your stomach did a subtle flip at his casual use of the pet name and just how raspy and deep his voice sounded; it was something you would never get tired of.

“it’s nothing. ‘m fine, go back to sleep, okay? you gotta get up to leave in a few hours.” you tried to not let anything negative seep through your tone when you reminded him that he had to leave before the sun rose, yet again. instead you chose to focus on his concern for you; he probably sensed your mental anguish, even in his sleep.

the tiniest crease in his brow told you that he didn’t believe you. already sitting up from his laying position on your chest, he adjusted his position so that he was sitting up against the bed frame next to you. you shied away from his piercing stare.

“c’mere.” he uttered only one word, in that groggy voice, and you just couldn’t find it in you to refuse. climbing onto his thighs, touya pulled you closer with just one hand on your hip, so your chests and extremities were brushing against each other. 

his other free hand laced with yours that laid limply in between the two of you. your body immediately felt hot at his initiative to be so intimate.  “c’mon pretty girl . . . . tell me what’s goin’ on. you been restless all night.” when you didn’t answer right away, touya leaned his face closer, a teasing smile tugging at his lips, and his mouth brushing against yours. “my baby mad that i’m leaving? want me to stay here with you?”

the offer was tempting, oh so tempting. his flirty smirk was causing you to internally shut down. it was also sad because touya didn’t know just how perceptive he was. or maybe he did, and that’s why he was looking you like that, talking to you like he’s amused with the sullen look in your eyes, why he was gripping your hand and waist even tighter than before. 

“i...no. i-i mean, i can’t ask you to do that. and ‘m not upset, i was just thinking....” you somewhat answered his question, but the scarred man was still not satisfied. he needed more from you. 

“what’cha thinking about?” he lightly coaxed more out of you, while simultaneously rubbing miscellaneous patterns on your bare thighs. 

it was like he put some kind of spell on you. some trance that clouded your mind and made you pliant and so eager to answer his questions. damn him, and damn your heart for yearning for him in every shape and form.

“you,” you blurted out without warning, then quickly added. “about us. and what...this is. what i am to you.” 

you didn’t mean to bring it up now, or so abruptly, but it slipped out of your mouth before your brain could process what you were saying. but at least after tonight your mind and soul wouldn't be tortured with the same thoughts and desires. clarity was a breath away. 

you also didn’t notice the smooth ministrations along your legs came to a halt, until you looked back at touya in the eye and immediately regretted it. his gaze was intense and unreadable, almost like when he was staring at someone he were about to burn into a crispy nonexistence.

now it was him that didn’t have a reply. and the silence was too much for your anxiety to handle, so you gulped silently and attempted to elaborate on what you meant. “i mean, these meetings, and the reputation that follows you . . . all this being purely physical, it made me think that i was only.... a-and i really didn’t— 

touya must have predicted what you were about to say, and before you could even say it, he cut you off with a warm palm at the base of your neck and fierce kiss on your pouty lips. 

you were stunned for a moment, but still meekly reciprocated his advances. and within a few seconds, he pulled away, his hand remaining on the base of your throat and the other on your thigh. his aquamarine eyes were shining and all-consuming, but his facial muscles barely moved. “and you what? you don’t think i actually like you? that i’m just using you, and you’re not enough?”

your brown eyes widened at his accuracy and blunt words. he really was intuitive. it was actually kind of scary. 

your mouth opened to reply, but he silenced you with a feather-like graze on your cheek you didn’t know he was capable of. “well you’re off. waaay off. i’m still here, and come back almost every night, because you’re more than enough for me. you’re more than just a tight pussy to fuck and a nice bed for me to crash on.”

touya tilted his face closer to yours again, so your lips can brush against his as he spoke, “i told you my real name. no one knows what my real name is and is still alive and breathing; it’s only you, baby.  you knowing that one piece of information means i already trust you more than anyone else. and besides, who else is patching up my wounds and rubbing ointment on my burns? only you, baby. who else am i letting my guard down and pouring my heart out to like this? only you, princess. who else do i dream about as soon as i fall asleep? only you, pretty girl. who else invades my mind like a parasite at every waking moment of the day? only you, sweetheart. who else would i burn the whole fucking world down for so much as someone looks at you wrong? only you, baby. who else would i rather have bouncing on my co— to make love to? only you, sweet girl. you’re the only good thing in my life right now. the only thing that makes living less shitty.”

you were motionless on top of him as you listened to his own version of a love confession, and you could already feel the salty tears threaten to drop past your eyelashes. touya, who was still holding one of your hands in his, grazed his thumb across the valley of your knuckles. taking his other hand, he wiped away the tear that had already cascaded down your cheek. he’s not used to being this gentle and this vulnerable with anyone. it felt strange and foreign. but with you, it all came naturally.

“there’s a lot more shit i wanna say, but i think i’m gonna wrap it up here. it’s late and i’m fucking tired.” he joked and he swore he felt his skin light on fire when he saw you smile at his playful words. “there isn’t anyone or anything else i would risk my job and reputation for, other than for you. so to answer your question: you’re mine, always have been, always will be. and i will always be yours. i’m basically telling you that i love you so....”

he trailed off, looking at the wall because he knew that if he kept looking at you his heart would crawl out of his throat and he would die. or accidentally activate his quirk because he was so worked up and burn you both alive. or both, in either order.

you were still perched on his lap in shock. tears were now freely flowing from your eyes, and they wouldn’t stop no matter how loudly you screamed at your brain to stop. you couldn’t see the genuine, loving grin on touya’s lips when he finally gathered the inner strength to glance at you again, because your eyes were so blurry with your own emotions.

“t-touya...!” you whined, your voice warping into a sob. wrapping your arms his shoulders and burying your face in his neck, you bit down on your lip to keep yourself from losing anymore of your composure. you were definitely moved by his sincerity, but you didn’t want him to see you ugly cry, which was a very real possibility had you stared at him any longer.

touya’s big, rough hands rubbed small, tight circles into the fabric of your shirt, and without another word and a kiss on your temple, the two of you slid back under the blankets and snuggled back into bed, with you clinging onto his broad, taut body. the warmth from his skin and his incoherent whispers—something about being a big crybaby— finally lulled you to sleep.

you had a feeling that he would be here when you woke up. 

あ TAGGING ! ━━ @yamaguchism @aaphroditeeeee @h34rt4u @deathskid @nekoriots @hellavile @bunnyyamor

( wanna join my taglist for works like these & more? click here ! )

[fleckcmscott]

Do Not Disturb

Summary: During a much needed getaway to the Catskills, Arthur and Y/N make a few discoveries about themselves - and each other.

Words: 5,523

Warnings: Smut, Swearing

A/N: This request came from @sweet-nothings04​! It expands on the vacation referenced in the first chapter of Stepping Stones. @iartsometimes​ offered a little preview in this lovely birthday present. 😏 Switching from multi-chapter to short story mode was more challenging than I'd assumed; this request helped me scrub off some of the oneshot rust. Thanks for your patience! Thanks, also, to @iartsometimes​ for beta-ing! Please enjoy!

Arthur had finally cracked it.

Plucked from a windblown flier that'd caught on his prop bag, it'd been his fourth open mic night this week. Five-minute sets at Comedy Company, uncensored, no cost for entry. The club's two-drink minimum had been waived.

That old trick of looking at the back of the room to shake off jitters? Unnecessary. Thanks to a newly discovered setup-punchline meter, his communication with the audience had been fantastic. He'd been able to reach them all. The high of fresh material - good material - had joined the crowd's clapping to tickle his gray matter, seep into its grooves like the first kiss of the day. At long last, he'd crawled his way out of stand-up purgatory to make something of himself.

Mouth moving as fast as his feet, he pulled Y/N along beside him, striding up the sidewalk towards Burnley. A yard before their bus stop, a billboard crew crossed their path, bucket slings and ladders on their shoulders. They climbed one story and unfurled a 12' by 8' poster, a pitch for Buddy Shandler's one-man show "Ain't that America," a farce featured at the Gotham Forum. Garish and gaudy, the balding caricature twisted his bow-tie and winked.

Arthur sprung on a bench, imagination straightening the curlicues of B and S into the sharp angles of A and F. Flicking his cigarette away, he jutted his chin. "My name'll be up there someday."

"And where will I be when your star shines so bright?" Y/N asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I am a humble paralegal."

"Senior paralegal," he said, extending a hand to her.

She took it and hopped up next to him, tapped his knuckles with each example. "You'll have a manager, a makeup artist, a lawyer to write all your contracts. Are you sure there'll be room for a pencil pusher like me?" Fingers splayed above her heart, she offered a coquettish pout and leaned in for a kiss.

He held back. "I'm serious. Not just this billboard. All of them. Maybe I can be the next Murray Franklin, make jokes about you and tell Dr. Sally I'll try everything with my one and only wife." And you'll be prouder of me, desire whispered at the base of his skull. You'll love me more.

Her jaw slacked and shut before she spoke. "You've been working so much. More than me, even." Given all his street performing, moonlighting at Amusement Mile, and the usual clown gigs, that couldn't be denied. "You should take a break."

"But I'm not tired." In fact, part of him felt like he'd just woken up, learned to live fully in the present. Too much time had been wasted, lost to fantasy and detachment, second guessing and outright failure. Not again, not with success on his heels, not when the world was his for the taking. He bit the inside of his cheek. "I feel good. Aren't you glad I feel good?"

She touched the tip of her nose to his, which melted him in an instant. "Of course, I am. You know, I admire your dedication. But I've been thinking it might be fun to go away together, work and comedy be damned."

A slight cock of the head. Vacations were one subject she seldom mentioned. "Yeah?" he said, fingers weaving together at the small of her back. "Where would be go?"

The agent with salon steamer silver hair at Crowne's Travel studied their list of must-haves: good for couples, secluded but not isolated, hassle free. "It's a little close to be this choosy," she said. Then the grin of a dealmaker brightened her face. "A client of ours cancelled a trip this morning. Real nice couple, until his wife caught him in bed with the maid. How'd you feel about a mountain hideaway?"

The Catskills were a classic choice, a dream destination Arthur had seen in commercials during Penny's soaps and talk shows. It was a tourist spot for the rich and famous, the famous for being rich, the rich for being famous. As remote to him as a fantasyland, even two hours northwest.

He signed the travel agreement without delay. If it could be a destination for the soon-to-be-famous (and their humble senior paralegals), he belonged there.

~~~~~

Sunrise Valley Bed and Breakfast was the sole inn that both met their criteria and had a free room on the July Fourth weekend. Tucked into the side of Mount Tycetonik, its three floors lodged six rooms, and its slogan promised guests they would arrive strangers but leave as friends. Breakfast was served from 7:30 - 9:30 AM, made-to-order, not a buffet. The owners, a husband and wife who communicated in one-word bursts, ran a tight ship. No loud noises after ten o'clock, no running in the halls, no smoking outside of the patio area. Guests were invited to a campfire every Saturday, don't be shy.

En route upstairs, a man in his late sixties passed by on his way to the dining room. He greeted them through the bushy caterpillar residing on his upper lip. "Welcome! First time here?"

"Yeah, it is," Arthur said, switching his teal suitcase from one hand to the other.

Mustache's gander followed Y/N's form, her breezy summer dress as it disappeared around a corner. He hunched forward, pointed at Arthur for emphasis. "Make sure you get down here early. The scones run out fast."

Their room was on the small side, but calling it cozy would be sweeter, so that's what Arthur decided to do. Butted against the left wall was a double bed, homemade star quilt spread across it. A cream table lamp squatted on a nightstand, the shade's fringe impressively dust free. The door to the private bathroom was on the right, followed by a dresser, where a note welcomed them and solicited suggestions. A peacock armchair was nestled in the rear corner, white wicker, the kind that'd become an album cover cliche. Only a television and air conditioner were missing. A programmed VCR in 4A made the former irrelevant. A fan spun weakly by the double hung window, circling humidity with a lazy puff puff.

Once unpacked, they perused the brochures nabbed from the check-in desk. The weekend came with plenty of local traditions. A brass band blowing patriotic tunes at the closest park; an Independence Day festival featuring enough red, white, and blue to blind; an upcoming parade one town over. None of it appealed to him. Other than watching the fireworks from the roof or attempts to barbeque on a disposable grill on the fire escape, they didn't have traditions related to the holiday.

They could go horseback riding at a nearby ranch, hike the scores of trails surrounding them. There was rock climbing or biking. But Arthur already did enough running around the city. And who found hanging off the side of a fifty-foot cliff relaxing?

They chose an aerial tramway. Bright yellow with green trim, straight out of the 1930s, it shuttered its way to Little Tonshi's summit at five miles per hour. Cable loops whirled and squealed, the car swayed to and fro. Twenty people stood, packed like sardines in a can, but as long as the sardine Arthur was crammed next to was Y/N, he didn't mind.

Two minutes into their ascent, she put a palm to her forehead, nails dug his side. He knew she'd made the mistake of looking through the tram's transparent base. "Look at me," he murmured, knuckle lifting her chin.

Rose pink painted her cheeks, a shade that dove straight to his diaphragm and made it jump. "You always manage to steady me."

The cabin campfire blazed when they returned to the B&B. As soon as they put a toe on the property, Mustache waved them over.

"Watch out." Y/N's steps slowed to a shuffle.

Arthur shrugged. "He's friendly."

"That's true. But he's also the type of man who'll grab your arm and talk your ear off if you're not careful." She plucked his lighter from him, sparked it, held it out. The old-fashioned romanticism of the gesture (a stunner, since she hadn't quit nagging him to quit) swept over him, sparking his own fire. He bent to stick his cigarette in the flame. "Don't let your manners get in the way. And remember you're all mine tonight."

Log benches sat on either side of the inferno, one free seat each. Y/N sat beside an older lady in a Just Say No! windbreaker, leaving Arthur the spot at Mustache's left. While Y/N commented on the possibility of rain, asked the woman if she was far from home, the older man patted the bench. After a nicotine puff of compliance, Arthur obliged.

Mustache passed him a roasting stick and bag of marshmallows. "You two on your honeymoon?"

That marriage was clear stretched Arthur's cheeks to the point of pinching. He skewered the squishy treat and held it over the fire, high enough to be licked by hints of orange. "Just a long weekend."

"I thought I'd recognized that gaze," Mustache said, nodding towards Y/N. "Same one my wife had when we got married in, oh, forty-four? We come here every year. Used to bring the boys, too, before they moved west. You been married long?"

"Six years October 19th."

"You're still newlyweds. Got any kids?"

"No."

"Planning on it?"

"No."

The man crossed his ankles. "Well, that's all right. They're expensive and put a real damper on the bedroom."

Arthur's brows shot up. He tapped ash into the cinders, tucked his arm closer so Mustache couldn't grab it.

Y/N yanked her marshmallow out of the hearth, cupped her hand around it and blew. Her tongue circled the burnt sugar, drew it to her mouth. When her eyes shut and she hummed her satisfaction, he noticed the sweat glistening on her neck, the white thread that stretched from the skewer to her lower lip. Pulse quickening, he gaped at her, completely transfixed.

The spell broke in seconds. "Arthur, your stick's on fire." She laughed and lunged to his rescue.

He leapt to his feet, wagged the marshmallow, shoved the hot coal between his teeth. The bitter shell disintegrated, coated the inside of his cheeks, every millimeter of his gums. He winced. It was barely on par with attempts to toast them over his old propane stove.

She smoothed her palms from her waist to her thighs in one fluid motion. "Excuse me, but I wanted to catch the owners before lights out. Have a good night, it was nice to meet you." After a few paces, she glanced over her shoulder, sent a message that would make Cupid's arrow fly.

Still chewing, he excused himself to let it strike.

~~~~~

"I have a surprise," Y/N said, closing the door with a low thud. "No peeking."

Overheated for more reasons than one, Arthur shook off his diamond striped short-sleeve shirt, stepped out of his brown trousers, peeled off white socks. What could she have brought? New lingerie? Garters and stocking that went on for miles? Maybe fresh romantic spray or a box of assorted chocolates. That last one would be the ideal complement to his own surprise. He turned to his overnight bag and rooted around.

A zipper ripped at the opposite side of the bed.

Adopting the stealth of a man sneaking into a gala, he slunk behind her and definitely peeked. The Couple's Game was scrawled across a black, rectangular box, a title that intrigued and allured. A man and woman lounged on a rug in the cover photo, scantily clad, wine glasses filled to the brim. "It was in the window at the hosiery shop on the corner," she said. "They're a romantic supermarket now."

From behind his back, he brandished a bottle of her favorite merlot. "It's perfect."

Cross-legged on the oak floor, he delivered the directions in the jovial intonation of a late-night monologue. The romantic adventure would recreate the excitement of their first meeting and strengthen their bonds. Players were to answer questions, listen to their partners with open hearts, and never argue or interrupt. Creativity was encouraged. The goal? To reach the red heart at the end of the track.

Arthur suspected that wasn't the only way to win. "'Make sure your clothing is comfortable and easy to remove?'" A sharp snort and he placed two token - one red, one black - on the starting square.

The commencing inquiries were easy, as light and pleasurable as a perfect evening, which this would assuredly be. What they'd tell each other if they lost their memories. ("I'll love you forever, if you let me," he said. "Every step that's led me to you is one I'd take again," she promised.) An order for them to lock eyes for ten seconds and remember how lucky they were. And, yes, they could see themselves together for the rest of their lives. ("That's why I wanted to get married," he said out of the corner of his mouth.)

But when he'd rounded a third of the track, the mood grayed. "What's your biggest fear?" he asked.

Her nails hit her goblet in restless repetition. Tap. Tap. Tap. She scoffed a sniffle. "What a terrible question for a romance game. Ask another?"

Snippets from a thousand conversations had clued him in: the options were losing him or getting sick like her father. Since her forty-sixth birthday, since The Change had crept up on her, her notetaking and list making had increased. Despite her powers of recall outmatching his, he'd come to understand her annoyance at occasional lapses in memory. Her organizational habits were acts to fight that future, a future the deepest recesses of his soul knew wouldn't come to pass.

A kiss to her fingertips confirmed that conviction. "Okay." He rolled a four, advanced to another square. "'Do you always tell your lover when they upset you?'" That didn't seem much better. Regardless of how blissful their relationship was, he had to admit it wasn't all roses. Occasional thorns poked, too. To have to think about them now, when the instructions said her panties were supposed to be halfway to her ankles?

Y/N refilled her glass. "No."

"Why not?" They were unfailingly honest with each other. Alright, there was his firing from HaHa's and the pistol that'd caused it, but beyond that-

"We both know we have habits to work on. There's no need to dwell on them and foster bad feelings. But I guess what's hardest for me is when you try to hide being upset. You don't have to pretend with me. We were past that the moment we met." She dismissed his internal protests with a wave of her hand. "I get it. That's your line to draw and I trust you. That doesn't make it any less irritating."

He nodded tightly, channeled his instinct to frown into twanging the cords of his neck. Tried to hear her answer as a comment rather than criticism. A deep breath and he gave his own. "I don't like it when you work too much. When you're gone sixty hours and bring files home. It doesn't happen a lot, not like before. But I miss you."

"My promotion's a little more than we bargained for, especially with the merger. It'll slow down soon. You're never forgotten or left out, it's just that-" Cutting herself off, she shook her head. "I'm sorry, I broke the rules again. What's my fine?"

"Hearing one more thing."

"And what's that?"

Boosted on his elbow, he finished his merlot, readied himself by pouring another. Prepared to reveal the scandalous secret he'd kept since the earliest days of their courtship. "Your eggs. They're awful."

"But you gobble them up." Awareness flashed in her eyes, the disbelief that'd knotted her forehead loosening. "Is that why you put a bottle of ketchup on them? Why didn't you tell me?" Her small fists pummeled his bicep quarterheartedly.

Arthur caught her wrists, chuckled his reply. "Your pancakes make my morning batter."

"Uh-huh." She extricated herself and threw the die. It scuttled under the dresser, where she stretched and strained to reach it. "Three!" Her red pawn hopped two spaces ahead of his. "'Without embellishment, tell me about your first time.'" She peered at him like she was awaiting a performance review. "This isn't going to be like the egg thing, is it?"

A laugh escaped him, the rare kind that tingled his ribs until they ached with glee. "I liked it. A lot. You made it easy. But it was too short."

"And wonderful." She rolled onto her belly, kicked her legs up behind her, crossed them mid-calf. Her knee-length skirt flopped higher, dangling at her hips, teasing glimpses of her cotton covered bottom. "Six weeks before Jeff and I got married. I was done waiting. We were both nervous - he'd done it before but never with a virgin. But he was gentle and patient. And I discovered a new favorite hobby."

Fondness tinged her words, stirred within him a grudging relief. Grudging at not having been hers back then, relief that her initial explorations had been better than the bleeding and pain he'd heard about. Mirroring her position, he realized those good experiences may have paved the path to his own, allowed her to be the bold counterpart to his bashfulness.

His pawn rounded the last corner. "'What's my feature you like best?'"

"Your bedroom voice."

His timbre dropped to a velvet fog, rasp scarcely above a whisper. "My bedroom voice?"

"Mmm, just like that. When I hear it, I know I'm in trouble."

A long hum rumbled in his throat. Her position loosened her overlapping neckline, offered a world class view of her cleavage. Her breasts appeared larger at this angle, the slit between them long and deep. He really loved them. He didn't tell her that often enough. "I love your breasts."

"And here I thought you were the sweet one, Mr. Fleck. Have you had me fooled all this time?" She walked her fingers down his chest. Lip stuck in his teeth, he watched the descent. "Maybe that's what you should tell me if I lose my memory. It'd certainly sweep me off my feet. Well, that along with your big broom." At that, she snapped the waistband of his briefs, stole the die and threw a final throw. Her token landed on a silhouette of joined hands. "'How did you know you were in love? What did it feel like?'"

Fuzzy with drink, he rolled onto his back, followed the blurry orange peel pattern of the vanilla ceiling. Debating if the lovely woman at the store had actually spoken to him, standing behind her in line, their cautious but eager walk together. All of it projected on his inner eye in widescreen. A phone call replayed, made a week after pie, in which he'd chanced a mediocre pun and her laugh had thawed his apprehension into incredulous bewilderment. ("You really like my jokes that much?" "I like you that much.") Dreams of being spotted by Murray had become dreams of being spotted by her.

Negative notions and ruminations were what his brain was built for. An intruding army with ever stronger munitions, their returns tightened his sinews until aching became default. But she'd changed that, been a keyhole of light in the dark. "I didn't want to stop thinking about you. It made me feel like maybe my life could be more than living with my mother and paying bills. I'd wait for you to call. You'd say my name and it was like..." A smile thinned his lips, boyishly affectionate, intimate as a kiss. "Being wrapped inside the joy I wanted to give but never had."

"Arthur," she purred, the second syllable elongated. She planted her mouth under his left ear, the spot he wanted her mouth on every day. It was wet with wine. He imagined being tattooed with the print of her burgundy stained lips. Goosebumps broke out at the brush of her breath. "Falling in love with you was a gift I didn't expect. That you have the handsomest wrapping is a happy bonus." She caressed his nipple to hardness, traced the sparse black hair that circled it. "You've helped me allow myself to be vulnerable. I hope I've helped you know it's alright to not always be all right."

"You have." He pressed her to him, swept the pieces from the board to entwine their legs. "You do."

Teeth tickled his peck, a not altogether unpleasant sensation. "You smell delicious," she said, yawning. "I wanna eat you up."

"You're tired."

"No." Nuzzling his sternum, she yawned again. "I'm horny."

He grinned into her hair. He'd been tempted to take her this morning, but she'd busied them with packing. An increase in his ability to get hard and stay hard was a welcome companion to this summer's newfound optimism. But his vision swam. He wanted to be intoxicated not by merlot but by her. "Go brush your teeth. I'll put this away and be right there."

~~~~~

Heat rained on Arthur. Rivulets trickled down his chest, clung to lean hips and narrow waist, drops dripped from the ends of his curls. This shower had to be quick. If he got done before she returned from her coffee run, he'd have a minute to sneak out for a smoke. He shut off the spray, stepped onto the area rug, ran cotton fibers along his face, his neck, the solid plains of his slender frame. Patted boney kneecaps and put his foot on the closed toilet to dry between his toes.

He wiped steam from the mirror and opened the outswing window. The air was thick, heavy, as though the clouds could crack open and pour on them at any moment. A syrup of fog obscured the mountains, stealing their peaks. So much for postcard views. Toweling his locks, he opened the bathroom door.

Oh.

Legs folded under her in the corner chair, Y/N read this weekend's issue of Catskill Mountain News. She appeared absorbed, lips moving. Wisps of brown and grey hair softened her face, diffused shadow alternated with silvery light in the hollows of her neck. And she was nude save for his forest green cardigan.

A postcard view just for him.

Sidelong glance locked on her, he ambled to the dresser. The sweater remained unbuttoned, the opening cascading over her bust, displaying enough to taunt. Slivers of toffee areolas titillated, puffy and soft, begging for his touch. Had she started planning this the moment he'd revealed his favorite feature?

Arthur gripped the top drawer's handle, hardening already. He managed enough self-control to adopt his best bedroom voice. "I think you forget your panties."

Toes drew a line down his calf. He twitched. Her foot hooked around his ankle and he twitched again. The newspaper fell to the floor, a gentle rustling that echoed off the tension in the room. "That's what I get for neglecting to pack lace," she said.

He bent to cup her face. Eager and wet, his mouth opened hers, swallowed the moan in her throat. He clasped her hand, intending to curl it around his shaft, ease the pressure mounting in his groin. But she grabbed his ass instead. At her insistence, he straddled her lap. The wicker seat poked his knees.

She grasped him, a languid up and down. Arching into her palm, his erection skimmed her cleavage. His Adam's apple bobbed. She dragged the purplish-red tip of him across her nipples, first the left, then the right. Her areolas tightened as if he'd suckled them, their faint stretchmarks shortening to dabs. Her gaze dropped to watch as she pleasured herself, her breath fanned over his charged flesh. All at once she lifted her breasts, pushed them together, enveloping his length in her warm, velvety skin.

A jolt wracked him. The sight of her in his sweater combined with this new way of loving him made him strain at her sternum. It was messy and strange. He was torn between uncertain laughter and confident exploration. Reticent to put his weight on her, he paused the rocking of his pelvis. "Are you sure this is comforta-?"

"We've waited long enough," she said on a husky chuckle. "Shut up and fuck me."

He ground against her. The sensation wasn't euphoria, not compared to the bliss of being clutched by her walls. More akin to beating off. Yet, her delectable playfulness, the intimacy of trust, her desire to do this to him - for him - captivated. And it would've been a lie to pretend her ample breasts framing his cock wasn't quite the scene.

The channel she'd created soon turned sticky with sweat and lack of air conditioning, slow smoothness slumping to a sluggish stutter. Determined to switch positions and bury himself to the hilt, he squeezed her shoulder, his usual signal for her to stop, to let him take control. She appeared to heed him, dropping her rounded flesh in an instant. Then she seized the base of him, whispered a caress along his testes.

Shock clenched his jaw, he clutched the back of the chair. Her hot tongue waltzed about the head, singed the vein throbbing on the side. Swollen lips lingered, long, drugging kisses interrupted by fervent flicks on the underside of the glans. Swirling, stroking, searing him towards ecstasy. He took hold of his erection, guided it inside her mouth, swept her tresses behind her ear. His length glistened with saliva, inciting the shallow, rapid rhythm of his hips.

He panted her name, a plea cut off by a harsh grunt. One final thrust and he flooded into her, abandoned to release. Toes curled in the air, knees locked at her thighs, fingers clutched her scalp. For a split second, he forgot who he was, where he was, forgot all beyond how to feel. He doubled over, cradling the side of her neck for purchase.

Relief settled in him, loosening his biceps, sensation oozed through his limbs. He'd gone flaccid but she continued to kiss him, like she couldn't bear to let go. He pecked the crown of her head. Rose from her lap and withdrew a step to survey her. Half-lidded, she wiped her chin.

A knock came at the door.

Retrieving her mug from the windowsill, Y/N answered the caller in a steady if higher pitch. "Yes?"

"I realize you have your door hanger here," Mustache started. "But we didn't see you downstairs. Breakfast is over in twenty minutes. Want us to grab you something?"

Arthur had never been so annoyed to make a friend.

"That's thoughtful, thank you. We'll be down before long," she said. Cheery footsteps carried Mustache away, and she collapsed into the chair. A wanton smile lit her eyes, a look of lazy seduction that asked what was next.

His stomach's answer was a protesting growl.

A choked snicker. "Make sure you order extra eggs." She gulped the rest of her coffee, shifted her legs in an unladylike manner that bared her thatch of curls, flashed the shiny pink hidden within. His mouth watered.

Pulling her upwards, he scurried to the bed to plop in the middle of the mattress. She fell forward on one knee, climbed to sit astride him. The box spring squeaked and squawked, loud enough for anyone inviting them to breakfast to hear. When she stretched to put her mug on the nightstand, her breasts grazed his cheeks. He captured one in a kiss, lapped the valley between them. Her center rubbed his abdomen, smeared wet streaks below his navel. She dragged him from her stiff peak, stole his lips with her own. Whimpered and rutted harder, a swift series of strokes that'd soon have her shaking.

He cupped the dip of her waist, lifted her an inch. Pecked a mischievous line down her neck, her breastbone, her belly. He lay back, a gradual recline that brought her to his chest. Elbows hooked under her thighs, he coaxed her higher, until her core sat directly under his chin.

She scrunched her nose, fumbled at the pillow and sheets, as if searching for the right place to land. After six seconds, her elbows drew together, shielding her breasts.

Zigzags and figure eights, he traced patterns on her spine, simple calligraphy in the sheen of her sweat. "It's okay."

Giggling and girlish, she straightened a bit. "It's just a little odd, hovering over you like this."

He chuckled. There was a unique delight in her being the one having to regain her footing, in him being the one to introduce her to a new act. He pressed moist lips to her slightly stubbled leg, a humble request for permission. With a shiver, she gave it.

His touch trailed along her hip, traversed the curve of her abdomen, drifted below. Her folds were swollen, fanned out, a cherished invitation. She was the prettiest scarlet he'd ever seen. He kissed her springy curls, the pad of his thumb brushed her slit. A sudden impulse flared in him, an impulse to say something as reckless as her nude in a cardigan. The round tip of his nose met the heat of her sex. "I love your cunt."

"Arthur!" She covered her face, which had gone red as a flame. "What's gotten into you?"

He wasn't sure but he longed to keep it, this brashness that outmatched hers. His tongue spread her wider, followed her inner lips. She jerked forward.

"May I move?” she asked.

He groaned into her. "Shut up and fuck me.”

Short and firm, swipes teased her hood, splayed flat on her clit. Subtle rolls began to build, a delicate canter that met the movements of his mouth.

Her slick increased with each swallowed cry. She tasted sweet yet ripe, different from the tang of their earlier years. Muskier, like an antique perfume. The heady scent filled him, drove every fiber to please her, hold her to his greedy lips. His palm snuck beneath the sweater, memorized her heated skin centimeter by centimeter.

When he groped her breast, tested the weight of it, she gripped the headboard, splayed her knees wider, brought herself more fully over him.

"Fuck, Arthur..."

He'd fantasized women were soft and squishy, like a down comforter. Easily pliable, able to be wrapped in at the end of the day. And Y/N was all those things. But this part of her, the hat pin nub pulsing beneath his ministrations, was hard and stiff with want of him.

His grip on her thigh tightened, one leg folding behind her, foot flat on the bed. Her writhing hastened, stammering. Hurried weak thrusts as he sucked her off. Fingers dove through his damp curls, tugging as she froze. Quivering, she let loose a moan, which turned into an elated giggle. He licked her through her spasms, craned his neck to keep at it as she tried to back away. A distinctly masculine rush surged through his veins, the satisfaction of displaying his talents, of fulfilling her and thereby himself.

Of being pretty damn good at getting her off.

Once she'd caught her breath, she clambered off him, his arm at her waist anchoring her. Half supine, she faced the wall. The cardigan hung at her side, ribs rising and falling in an ever slowing current.

The board game's box beckoned from the top of the dresser. He scooted up behind her. "Did anyone else do that to you?"

"Not like you do." She paused and a laugh cracked out of her. "I still can't believe you did that our first night together."

Part of him had believed he'd never see her again. He hadn't been about to waste the chance to finally have that experience. But there'd been more to it, an underlying layer he hadn't discerned seven years ago. Although she'd said he'd allowed her to be vulnerable, she allowed it for him, too. To be naked with her, to exist in his natural state. To be himself when he didn't comprehend everything he was. To learn to love her without fear. Losing himself with her was an act of sharing that thrilled despite being old hat, one he craved even after the hundreds of times it'd already occurred.

He ran his hand down her body and cupped her mons. "I wanted to."

Her hand covered his, interlocking their fingers. "It's nice to be wanted."

Neither of them moved to get up. Spent and content, he snuggled closer, arm tucked under his head. He dozed lightly, listened to her even breathing. The room’s sticky air settled over them both.

Suddenly, Y/N flipped over, pushed him on his back. The look in her eyes was a bit concerning. "How long before you're ready again?"

Arthur huffed, did a quick calculation. "I dunno. After lunch? Why?"

She caught his lower lip in a kiss and sucked, snaked her palm between them and squeezed his sleeping sex. "I need seconds."

~~~~~

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[sincerexsiren]

Her own flush came to her face at that but she was smiling. "Well I must admit I use it more then that....after all its not something that I had to learn. Its part of what I am. I couldn't disconnect from it any more then I could seperate myself from a limb." She admitted softly. She was a witch threw and threw and not in the way that so many of the new aged ones saw themselves. No she was born into this, bred specifically for it by a mother who had maticulously found the right mate so that she could preserve her own magical traits in her daughter. For generations, the Wallas family had done this, making sure that the daughters were always there to steward this sacred place, gifted to the world by the earth itself. Of course this was good for everyone that needed it but could be troublesome for the steward themselves; watching the world move on the outside where they stayed here, the same.

His words drew her back to the moment and a small minx like smile came to her lips. "Perhaps its my magic that pulls you then, instead of the old gods. Even for a Wallas my magic is....rare." She held out her hand, palm up for him to put his into. If he took it she could show him, show how her fingers would sink under his skin and tickle his very essence. Of course....if she wasn't careful or was angry, which she seldom was, she could do so much worse to his soul then just tickle.

She cocked an eyebrow at him though at his charming words. "I am my magic though." She reminded him in a little giggle. She was blushing herself now and confused. No, it wasn't because he was clearly hitting on her. Of course her charges had hit on her. From time to time she had even partaken- it was after all, another form of tribute wasn't it?

"Not bold. It was sweet. Very sweet. But people dont come here for me love. I'm..." She paused, trying to think of the best way to explain it. "I'm like one of the trees." She settled on. "I feed the earth, the earth feeds me. We are the same." She gave him a soft smile before lifting her own cup for a sip as a breeze moved through the linen curtains. "Just a tree that can answer questions. But that doesn't mean I can't provide shade too. For the time you're here."

By the gods, even her blush was beautiful. It wasn't going to be easy ignoring this, and truth be told, he didn't want to. He wasn't one to shy away from his feelings, especially when they were for others. One thing about him was that he was honest. Usually. But one thing about him being polyamorous, was that every relationship that one wanted to expand on, even one where they had just met, demanded that honesty to continue. And when she used his first name, it had a reaction. He didn't know exactly what that reaction was, but he had one. there was something... beautiful, about the way she said his name. And he wanted to hear her say it again.

"I wholeheartedly agree. I normally don't use magic. Studied it for years, and figured I could add that to whatever else I could do through my life. But I really find a need for it. For myself, at least. I have had some of my magic-users use it for protecting the castle and the town, strengthening the dimensional bubble, but I rarely use it myself."

He sat down across from her because she offered and placed the cane across his lap, and his hat on his cane. He turned on his stool to watch her as she moved around - he enjoyed watching women walk, but watching her walk was something else, entirely.

Taking the tea cup from her, he spooned some honey into it, and stirred. Terran's eyes flashed and glowed briefly once again, then it was gone. He closed his eyes for a moment, letting her laugh fill his ears. It was a laugh he would not soon forget.

"I can't believe the longevity of this place; but Trinity, I've met gods and old gods, I've met a handful of the old gods. I recognize their magic, and the pull it seems to have." He took a sip of his tea and locked eyes with her. "I can promise, their magic is not why I'm here. no, I believe... you. It's you," he told her, his cheeks taking on the very slightest of pink hues.

Dammit, if there was one thing Terran didn't do, it was blush.

"I think I came because of you. And it has naught all to do with your magic or your ties to Grace House." He swallowed, and his voice took on a quiet, sincere tone. "I rarely believe in coincidences. If I feel like I should be somewhere, it's for a reason. Right now, that reason... is you." The final word was almost whispered.

Terran found himself shaking, ever so slightly. He knew what he had told her was the truth. It had been centuries since he had a feeling like this about someone from the moment upon having met them, and that was only one other time.

"I apologize if that was too bold of me," he whispered.

@sincerexsiren

[ticklepinions]

Heeeyyy, Onion, I hope you're doing good!

I'm here because I wanted to ask you something, and maybe get an advice from you if it's okay. I discovered that I like tickles not so long ago, I'm a ler-leaning switch, and I get lee moods pretty rarely, unlike my playful and fluffy ler moods. I have friends in this community and I really love them, but there's one thing, and it's hard to explain how I feel about it... Like, I'm one of the most "ler-ish" people in our little group, but from time to time they want to "turn the tables on me". It just starts with the teasing, and I start teasing back, trying to hint that "Pls, I'm not feeling lee at all-", but they keep going usually ("You're a switch for a reason!~"), until they just... get bored or "get what they want"? I often feel that I'll make them upset or something, so sometimes I have to "reveal my secretly hidden lee" that they want to exploit that much... And I just start being like "apdjfhjdjfks" in chat, but in reality I don't feel any tingles and am not really... having fun, I guess? Or when I say I'm in a silly flustered ler mood, they go "HA LEE", and try to tease me like I'm a lee?... Like bros. I said that I'm in a ler mood. Several times. On different days. Ler mood. Where does this "lee" come from? Because I'm feeling shy and blushy and fuzzy inside? Man, there are different types of lers/ler-leaning switches and they can feel that too pls– But of course I get lee moods, just... sorry that my lee side can't be magically summoned by a little bit of teasing, please forgive the little switch me who is a ler more often and you know it lmao ಠಿ_ಠ

So I just want to ask, should I do something? And if I should, then what exactly should I do? I can't say that it makes me angry or straight up sad, but it's a little bit frustrating... But I don't want to make them feel bad, I mean, if making me "lee" is fun for them, maybe I should just- kinda leave it like that?.. Anyway, if you read it, thank you so much for your time! And if you reply, Imma go buy you some tAcOs because THANK YOU- 💞

– 🐑

Hi fren. Lots of stuff to get into.

Switch erasure is real lmfao. For some reason our world cannot understand things that aren't black or white. But I digress.

First of all. Your feelings are valid. You're allowed to be mad, angry, sad, frustrated, betrayed etc.

It is so important that we establish boundaries for ourselves and learn how to consistently stand by them when prompted to as hard as that may be sometimes. In this community, being a switch is sometimes treated as a light switch, being turned ler and lee by someone else's commands. This could not be further from the truth. Some people have even resorted to simply putting ler in their profile to avoid unwanted teases as a lee.

I just want to remind people that there are people behind these screens. Sometimes you're in the mood, other times you're not. All times valid. Stop forcing people to be Lee/Lee for you, it not fair to them. Consent is important! You don't have control over whether someone is in a lee or ler mood. Being a switch is hard enough as it is y'know.

And to the switches out there don't force yourself to be in a mood. Stand up for yourself! Your happiness and enjoyment matters just as much as theirs!!!!

I'm personally way more ler than a lee. It's very seldom I get a lee mood and the friends I have always respect that. But you also have the responsibility to let people know what they're doing isn't okay. From there if they continue to disrespect your boundaries you'll know you have to consider to cut off that relationship.

It's natural to want to get revenge on a ler especially if you are another switch but gentle reminder that if they're not in the mood rn don't force it. If getting revenge is important to you communicate that. Work something out together and consensually

Like always communication is key.

Thank you for reaching out and I hope all goes well. I'm proud of you fren.

[royalreef]

{ fstbmp​ }

Scourge figured that perhaps getting a full view of the other’s form would, if anything, at least make her a touch less anxious of this stranger. Yet, no, that brief spike of surprise turned to wariness at best. It was like realizing one had stumbled into another’s den and you just had to be hopeful the monster was polite. Thankfully, that seemed to be the case. At least for the time being.

Metallic quills shift as her head tilts, almost just out of habit at seeing the other’s head do the same. The expensive attire - not that mockery faux stuff- and the lilt of the voice was familiar, unfortunately so, in a way that tickled the back of her brain. It made the beginning inklings of a headache settle in. It was ignored, for now. It wouldn’t do Scourge any good to snap at the other for trivial matters, especially at present when she’s stranded in another universe entirely.

Just work with what you can fix and get pissed off about random bullshit later, Scourge.

“Lemme think…” she mutters, trying to shake off the rancid vibes she was feeling to get back to the issue. “Somethin’ about monoliths and calling forth a being of chaos or some weird cult bs like that. Woulda been flatterin’ if they weren’t so upset that I ain’t what they were shootin’ for. …Mighta sacrificed someone? Either that or some freaky shit happened in there.”

      “Ohhhh — so just your average Deity of Chaos Magic summoning gone awry! Likely amateurs, they probably specified upon a singular planar origin, when true beasts of pandemonium seldom are so basic. I bet they would not have had to execute several dozen blood sacrifices to complete the working!” Miranda, ever true to herself, did not specify how she knew this, nor why she knew this. If the cadence of her voice was to be believed, this was something that surely everyone knew off the top of their heads, but this was Miri at hand. Offering information and then refusing to elaborate further was practically her calling card in a conversation, alongside cute noises and just as elusive maybe-flirting.

         She was still smiling. Her affect hadn’t changed either, except with a straightening of her head and an excited fanning of her fins — but as much as her guest was muttering, Miri was charging on ahead. It was a little strange, to see her chirp about eldritch binding circles as easily as one might discuss an upcoming ball, and even furthermore because seldom did any of it actually feel as though it was reaching her eyes. She might have been truly that innocent and clueless, matching with the pink hue of her body and the presentation of a proper princess — but there was something missing from that equation too, something that was going as unsaid as the clear armor those same pink scales provided. The issue was just figuring out how intentional her airhead demeanor was.

       Something Miranda was, for the record, not assisting in as she lifted her hand in some flippant gesture in the air, acting as though this was all well within the norm. Maybe it was. The rest of what Scourge had seen of this place certainly would give her that impression, and Miranda hadn’t flinched in the slightest. But it was too loose over the back and too tight around the joints, and it didn’t fit quite right as a second skin.

       “It would be a very, very easy working to loosen at the seams, and once you tear a few holes in such a thing, I am sure the rest will unravel as easy as you please! If you come with me, I could even rend it open for you! We have all the supplies you might need, and an existing circle for our means. I doubt it will even be a very long procedure!”

[fanficsandfluff]

Tickles of Color Entry 2021

Heeeere we are! I hope you enjoy @twordficsnooneaskedfor !!! I really don't know the character of Ahsoka (never watched Clone Wars) but I tried my best! Thank you to @ticklesofcolor (@tickle-bugs and @peachytickles respectively) for hosting this super awesome event!

Fandom: Star Wars, The Mandalorian

Characters: The Mandalorian (Din Djarin), Ahsoka Tano, Grogu (The Child)

Words: 1,551

Ahsoka spent time with the youngling, listening. She did much listening, she realized, as the poor child could not communicate with anyone else, nor had he actually been able to speak in quite a long while. He was releasing and explaining. He spoke of the horrors, the not-so horrors. It was all feelings inside him, and then the Mandalorian would come into the picture. Grogu perked up.

“He’s made you happy,” Ahsoka smiled softly as the youngling nodded, cooing in agreement.

She listened some more and then cocked her head at something he said, “You want to make him happy?”

Grogu again nodded his little head, ears flopping.

Ahsoka placed two of her fingers on top of Grogu’s small hand, smiling at him, “I’m sure you’ve already made him happy, little one.”

The child’s head bowed, gurgling something like disappointment. He wasn’t enough. He was a burden… well, the Mandolorian has willingly protected him for this long… maybe less of a burden than he thought.

“Let’s meet with the Mandalorian for food. We’ll discuss options later,” and Ahsoka picked the child up and made her way back to the ship where said topic of conversation was cooking for them. It was a meager meal of hunted creatures, and they sat around a small burning fire.

The Mandalorian picked piece by piece of meat off the bone for the youngling. It turned out the child was eating the meat faster than the Mandalorian could tear it.

“Hungry, are we?” the tinny voice filtered through the helmet. Grogu made a noise of contentment. The next chunk given to the child was eaten at a purposely humorous fast pace, and both of them knew exactly what was going on.

“You’re very funny,” a gloved finger brushed under the child’s chin and the child giggled.

Ahsoka looked on, eating her own small cooked animal, crunching on the singed skin. She smiled when she heard the Mandalorian chuckle. He has already proven worthy of the child’s love and attention based on the way he helped him channel the Force during training.

The Jedi set her meal down and brushed off her hands, staring at the Mandalorian. Focusing, Ahsoka poised the fingers of one hand inconspicuously, aiming, and… The Mandalorian’s hand chased away an invisible bug on his neck, eyes searching for the culprit. Ahsoka bit the inside of her cheek… she can work with this.

“What do you need me to do?” Din asked the next morning, standing in the clearing in the woods with Ahsoka and Grogu.

“Your participation will be crucial for today’s training,” Ahsoka reassured, holding back a smile.

Ahsoka knelt down next to Grogu, who was placed onto a large rock. She whispered something into his ear. Grogu exclaimed in what to Din seemed like joy. Maybe he already knew whatever it was Ahsoka was telling him to do?

“Mando,” Ahsoka spoke louder now, “I’m going to demonstrate to him first.”

“Okay,” Din said, standing still. He didn’t know what was supposed to happen, but he waited.

Ahsoka pointed her hand towards him and he felt a crawling up his sides and back. He jerked, surprised, bewildered… all-around confused.

“You okay?” Ahsoka asked with a very visible smile on her face now.

“Y-Yeah.. Was it--? Is it supposed to feel so…” Din didn’t know how to describe what he felt so he wiggled his fingers in the air, “Scratchy?”

Ahsoka huffed a small laugh and Grogu made a noise, as well.

“Well, yes. But it’s very important you stay still.”

“Okay. Can you tell me what it is you’re teaching him?”

Ahsoka looked to the child to get his approval of what to say. Answer honestly? Grogu said no.

“It’s a Force touch. Like he’s feeling out into the world without having to move.”

Din nodded, “Alright. Just be more… careful, I guess.”

“Show one more time? Very well,” Ahsoka made up that part of conversation with the youngling as she once again poised her hand and made sparks fly all around the Mandalorian’s shielded sides and ribs. It encompassed him, feeling like they weren’t really touching him at first. It was like a breeze being blown all over his torso. But then the feeling zeroed in and Din barked out an obvious laugh. He hunched over, elbows pressing into his sides.

“W-Wahahait!”

Ahsoka was shaking her head, “If you cannot handle what I am demonstrating, I’m sure you’ll do much better with Grogu.”

“It feeheels so strange,” Din regained himself, clearing his throat after standing straight.

“That may happen from time to time,” Ahsoka smiled but her mind was on a slightly different track now, “What was it?”

“I don’t know. Like a buzzing. Not so much like touch, though.”

“I see,” Ahsoka raised her hand again, “It feels like this?” and Din was once again squirming, but this time trying to hold back his laughter at the feeling on his belly now.

“Yehes!” he croaked.

“It seems like it’s tickling you,” Ahsoka said what she was doing this whole time, stopping the sensations again.

“Tickling? No, isn’t that… that’s what babies feel.”

So, he really didn’t know. Her thought was correct.

“Grogu,” she knelt again by the child, “Would you like to try?”

The child shut his eyes like he usually did when he had to concentrate on the Force. He did that first to get the feeling in his bones and then opened them to aim it at the Mandalorian. Din stood still, fighting the very soft feelings. He didn’t move, didn’t laugh. Thank goodness for the helmet because they couldn’t see him smiling and biting on his lip.

“Kihihid!” he burst out laughing when there felt like a sharp, focused jab to his hips. Grogu giggled.

The Mandalorian couldn’t stay still. He could try and suppress the laughter, but he just couldn’t not squirm. He looked honestly very silly, squirming about, taking little hops and steps here and there. Ahsoka even snickered.

“You’re moving, Mando,” Ahsoka teased.

Grogu was enamored by the display. He’d never really heard the Mandalorian laugh before. He’d chuckle from time to time. But this was different. This was wilder.

“Y-You’re doing this on p-puhurpose!” Mando accused, arms secured to his middle.

Ahsoka started walking closer to the Mandalorian, “Grogu wanted to make you happy. This was our solution.”

Din’s heart warmed at hearing that. The kid only wanted to make sure he was happy. I guess it was hard to gauge under the helmet and all. He couldn’t always tell if he was smiling. But that warm heart was quickly frozen over once more when there were pinch-like motions on his lower ribs. This time those were real touches. From Ahsoka.

“Hahang on! I didn’t say you could actually do that,” he started backing away from the Jedi.

“Oh, my apologies. Grogu may continue,” Ahsoka smirked. Maybe Din should’ve just shut up.

Grogu giggled and tried again. He could really only get forceful pokes and jabs out with his Force; that or it was a spread-out attack. Both were devastating to Din.

The Mandalorian made the movements to walk over to Grogu on his rock to get him to stop. But he was taken down to his knees with laughter and weakness to tickling only halfway there.

Din hadn’t felt anything like this before. Maybe distantly, in a memory and a world he seldom remembered. He knows the touch of a small bug walking over his fingers, the feeling of water rushing against his bare skin when he bathes. He even could recognize a playful shove or pat on the shoulder or back.

The proud Mandalorian was now flat on his back, too tired to protest or fight back. He could only laugh. Grogu found a way to change directions so he moved the Force touch downward and Din squeaked, turning over onto his side, curling up.

“Stohohop! Kid, please! Hahahaha!” Din begged, the touch fluttering down his thighs to the backs of his knees. He was giggling now. Grogu was most definitely mocking him with his own giggles.

“I think that’s enough, Grogu,” Ahsoka finally stepped in. Who knows how long the kid would’ve continued if she didn’t stop him?

“Y-You’re just as bad as him,” Din coughed out, sitting up in the dirt.

Din would’ve loved to take off his helmet and breathe fresh air, to gulp it into his lungs, now sore from laughter. He felt another touch at his knee and he almost swatted it away before he realized it was Grogu’s hand. The kid had waddled his way over to him. Checking on him, it seemed, by the look on the kid’s face. Din picked him up and sat him in his lap.

“I’m okay, kid.”

Grogu tilted his head, reaching up to touch the helmet.

“I’m happy, too. You got what you wanted,” Din poked a finger into the kid’s belly and made him giggle, “How do you like it?” he chortled.

Grogu leaned into Mando after cooing a little to the pokes, shutting his eyes. Mission accomplished. His masked protector was happy and it was because of him. That felt good.

Din shifted so he was looking at Ahsoka. She was looking right back, a soft smile gracing her features. And he smiled. Definitely happy.

[bloodypapercut]

s.b. headcanons

hellooo, me again! enjoy angels and treat urself today <3

word count: 1.9k 

-he will do anything to pull you away from whatever it is you’re doing whenever he wants attention

“COME TO MY DORM OR I’LL LIGHT A BUNCH OF CANDLES AND FALL ASLEEP!” “no don’t burn down hogwarts sirius, sod off, i need to study.” “don’t you love me??” “yes, now that that’s settled, go away.” “you’re breaking my heart darling.” he’ll pout throwing a hand over his heart while leaning on you “you’re breaking your own heart. just wait a bit longer, you big baby.” “nope, that’s it, i’m doing it! tata now!” “sirius no-!” “bye y/nnnn goodnight, unless you decide to graciously visit me in bed” “you’re really gonna burn down hogwarts because i won’t cuddle you?” “you mean YOU'RE going to burn down hogwarts because you refuse to stop studying and cuddle me.” “it does work like that!! you’re so childish.” “i’d prefer the term determined if you will.” “sirius- wait no don’t go upst- and he’s gone,” *waits a bit* *dashes upstairs and barges into the room* *sees there are no candles lit* “i’m offended, you thought i’d actually do it, but since you’re here let’s cuddle.”

-whenever he’s hanging around the other marauders on the field he’ll see random flowers and start picking them, ignoring their teasing while flipping them off “sirius has gone soft!!!!” “sod off wankers at least i have someone.” “i do have someone!” “lily hates you james.” “for now you twat.”

-he can’t wait to give you the flowers “oh- thank you? for the um..weeds?” “weeds? they’re flowers, look, petals and all.” he’ll dramatically pick a petal of a flower and blow it into the air, sighing as it slowly falls to the ground “nooo don’t make that face, you know i love them, they’re pretty.” you’ll open your arms for him and he’ll gladly reciprocate, burying his face between your shoulder and neck ”yeah like me.” he’d mutter in a childish voice

-“did you just lick my lips?” “your chapstick tastes good”

-whenever he’s drinking something and someone makes him laugh you can expect him to spray everywhere

-if you’re putting on lipstick he’ll ask you to kiss him on the cheek because he wants people to see, then he’ll ask to use the lipstick too because he wants you to have one as well

-every time you come out of the bathroom after getting dressed, without fail he’ll hype you up whether you’re wearing your uniform or a normal outfit or your sleeping clothes. he’ll narrate you as you walk out the room, asking you to do your model walk.

-you’ll dress each other sometimes, he usually picks fishnets and a skirt with one of his shirts and you’ll get him to dress like henry winter from the secret history (sirius in dark academia fashion, i think so)

-you two paint your nails together

-you both impulsively cut your hair, it’s utter chaos. it consists of you two screaming, hiding under a blanket, freaking out at the hair in the sink, then realizing you both look really good

-you have matching silver rings and necklaces

-he’s very devious, he always has something up his sleeve

-he gets jealous really easily, if someone is looking at you he’ll stare them down and whisper in your ear “someone’s checking you out.” “really? are they cute?” he’ll shoot you a warning look before picking you up and running off to do some um activities

-he’s very protective, he trusts you deeply but he knows that there are people who are willing to do anything to upset him and the only way someone could upset him is if they harmed you in any way. he will always stand up for you, even when you’re not around. he despises anyone who even looks at you the wrong way. this has led to many fights and detentions  

-he’s the most supportive and accepting person ever. he knows what it’s like to feel like an alien in your own body, to not be accepted by those you thought would be there no matter what, he understands what it feels like and though he will never understand how you feel completely, he will do everything in his power to help you and to make you feel safe and loved. if you open up about your struggles, your sexuality, your identity or anything at all, there will not be a single part of him that’ll judge you. he’ll just listen and smile, feeling so grateful that you trusted him enough to open up to him

-he’ll randomly break into your room in the middle of the night “get your fine ass out of bed, we’re going to hogsmeade.” “it’s 4 in the morning what could you possibly want at hogsmeade?” “i’m hungry, now hurry up.” “why don’t you sod off and steal some or rem’s chocolate? i’m tired.” “i already finished it c’monnnnn i know you wanna.” “you’re so lucky that i love you sirius.”

-he always keeps you on your feet, there was never a dull moment with him and frankly, it was hard to keep up, no one knows where he gets all this energy from.

-it’s hard to really know what he’s talking about at times, he just says words sometimes and when he’s done he looks at you expectantly

-his energy levels fluctuate a lot though, one minute he’ll be running around the room chasing you like a zombie, the next he’ll be sitting down talking about cultural anthropology  

-he likes trying to see if he can trick you into eating foods you hate. for example, he’ll try and feed you olives by claiming they’re grapes or something, which obviously doesn’t work so he just shoves it in your mouth (olive slander is welcome here)

-when you two kiss it’s so intense, even if it’s supposed to be a short peck before you head off to class he’ll put both his hands in your hair and pull you closer, refusing to have a kiss less than 10 seconds

-when he hugs you he spins you around until you’re both about to fall from dizziness

-he’s so coquettish, even when you’ve been together for so long he’ll stroll up to you and use a horrible pick up line, or he’ll wink at you from across the room or shamelessly flirt with you in front of everyone, which never fails to amuse you

-sirius either sleeps for 17 hours straight or 3 hours, there is no in-between. he’s also a very heavy sleeper, it’s so difficult to get him up in the mornings if you two are late for class. he doesn’t really care that he’s late but for your sake, he drags himself out of bed, under the condition that you have to take a nap with him right after class.

-he hogs the blanket and when you try and pull it back he will just grunt and say “you’re so hot why would you need it?” which you’d just scoff at and throw yourself on him until he acquiesces to share the blanket with you

-the train ride to hogwarts is filled with laughter, the kind where it hurts to breathe and you keep adding things that make you both reel over. the other marauders are slightly confused, but they start to laugh as they see your faces turn red while tears slip from your eyes.

-you are such an energetic couple, you bounce off of each other and anyone who hangs out with you two feels like they’re babysitting

-if his hands are cold he’ll press them on your thighs, neck, or your stomach just to make you jump, which is the catalyst in you chasing him around the room while throwing things at him

-he pokes the side of your face so much you’re convinced you’ll get a dent, he also flicks you so much that by the end of class there's a red mark on your cheek

- “you smell so good love.” “stop sniffing me, creep”

-he likes carrying you bridal style everywhere, it’s so unnecessary and extravagant that it just works because it’s sirius we’re talking about

-you two play fight so often people are genuinely concerned because they’ll just walk into the common room and see you straddling him as you cause havoc on his face with a pillow or he’ll have you pinned under him as he relentlessly tickles you

-calling him fleahead just to rile him up

“why can’t i have a pleasant nickname? like mr. darcy, am i not like your mr. darcy??”

-him calling you cherry or mars because you blush a lot around him (he likes to tell himself it’s because of his undeniable charm)

-sneaking off to the astronomy tower together to listen to music while you’re under a blanket and holding hands, talking quietly about your home lives or anything that’s bothering you, letting the wind run through your clothing, causing the two of you to shuffle closer together

-he’s seldom quiet so when he is you know there’s something wrong. you never push him as he’ll open up on his own terms and when he’s ready, but you always make sure that he knows you’re there

-he’ll usually walk into your dorm shutting the door quietly, taking his jumper off, and curling up in your lap as he grabs your hand, your other one going to his hair immediately. his cries are silent but they don’t last long, only for a couple of minutes before he looks up at you and kisses the side of your mouth before going under your covers and hugging your waist tightly.

-when you walk in upset or crying he’ll immediately be gripping his wand asking who he’ll have to hex, it brings a smile to your face and you just shake your head before trudging towards him, your mood washing over you again. you straddle his lap and bury your face in his chest, trying to calm yourself down. his hands would immediately go to rubbing your back or stroking your hair. when your breathing starts to go back to normal he’ll hold the back of your neck, making you look up at him, he just wanted to see your face because even when you were sobbing he thought you were the most breathtaking person on earth.

-you two always shower together or take baths together and they’d be filled with horrible attempts at flirting and messing around

-drunk sirius is a disaster. he will trail after you like a lost puppy, he will hug your legs if you try to leave which leads to him being dragged on the floor as he grips on your calf for dear life. if you somehow manage to free yourself from his grip he does the most outrageous and embarrassing things to get you to come back. (imagine sirius drunkenly singing common people by pulp or the letter by the boxtops, using his bottle as a mic and prancing around the common room doing an idiotic dance)

-drunk sirius barges into your room screaming “i'm an english man!!” or singing parklike by blur (if blur existed at the time)

-so many polaroids, he has a box filled with them. it gives him comfort when he’s back at home

-he stares at you a lot

-he always greets you with a kiss on the back of your hand

-at first you were apprehensive about being with sirius for several reasons but you gave him a chance because you wanted to formulate your own opinion. he proved everyone around him wrong and it took you by surprise to see just how committed he was. he not once hid the fact he liked you, he made it very known that he wanted you and only you, even if it was embarrassing on your behalf

(can you tell i heavily associate sirius with damon albarn?)

[sugarcoated44]

~Love over War ~  [A Technoblade x reader] Chapter 1: A Letter

~ Welcome to the first chapter of the story I hope you enjoy! ~

[Sugar’s Masterlist]   [LOW Masterlist]

Story Cap

You and your best friend Techno are renowned across the land under your respective aliases, Technoblade and The Diamond, not necessarily criminals but popular anarchists that were either hated or adored. You both simply travel around challenging people to duels or causing chaos as you go. With few strings attached to you, it was a surprise to both of you when a favor was called in by your old friend Wilbur Soot. He was an old friend of yours and now a government leader (both to you a Techno’s distaste) who was apparently now engaged in a war over his country. Never ones to give up the chance to help overthrow a rightfully elected government you both headed down to what was left of L’manburg to help cause chaos. Was this more than you could handle and will you lose each other in the process, only time and battle can tell.

Next Chapter>

Chapter 1: A Letter 

Y/N’s Perspective

       Today had begun as any typical day would, you and Techno both woke up at dawn rolling away from sleeping in your back to back format. It was a safety precaution, as people that traveled (and caused lots of chaos along the way) you needed to constantly be aware, and sleeping back to back ensured defense from all angles. 

You had then gone to find a river to wash up in while Techno hunted for breakfast. You usually prepared breakfast while he washed up himself. There was minimal dialogue between the two of you considering neither one of you were morning people so you were quite surprised when Techno called for you.

“Y/n it seems we have a visitor this morning,” Techno said in a groggy voice 

You walked up to him confused, not seeing anyone around him as you drew your sword, a visitor that was unseen couldn't be a good one. As you approached where he was kneeling you observed that there was in fact a visitor but quite a small one that had previously hidden from sight. You sheath your sword as you approach him noticing a small rolled piece of paper attached to a collar the fox was wearing. “Looks like he has a message for us,” you said in a questioning tone sure that Techno had already seen the item.

“I'm aware,” he said, “I was waiting for you to arrive before I opened it, I assume anything sent our way is meant for the both of us.” 

It was a reasonable assumption, the two of you were a duo, anything one of you was involved in was really for the both of you. You reached down to where the fox was patiently waiting and took the note as the creature watched you with keen eyes. You unraveled the bow tying the note to its collar. 

You picked up the note and unrolled it, noticing the L’manburg seal at the top. Techno was leaning over your shoulder, his breath tickling your neck as he looked at the message. Despite him being able to see it you read the letter aloud, 

“To the Blade and the Diamond, 

The time has come for me to call in one of your infamous favors. As of a few hours ago ‘L’marburg’ was taken from my control. Technically there was a voted election but I’m positive it was rigged (not that either one of you cares for elections or governments), but I would like your assistance in tearing this one down. I created L’manburg and should have control over it. I will give you more details upon your arrival as I’m sure neither one of you will refuse the chance to overthrow a ‘rightfully” elected government. Assuming you have no previous obligations you can simply follow my fox back to where I am currently stationed, if you do have something to do or wish to not come to fight in my war please write a note in response so I can plan accordingly. Your backup would be greatly appreciated and I know we would succeed if we had you both on our side. I beseech you to come to our aid and I will repay you with anything you wish so long as it is my power. 

I hope to be seeing you soon.

- Wilbur Soot, Rightful President of L’manburg”

You finished reading the note and turned around to face Techno rather than have him standing over your shoulder, the place where his breath had been brushing against you still tingling. You rubbed your shoulder briefly before saying “Well, he's certainly not wrong about us not being the kind of people to turn down an invitation to overthrow a government.” 

Techno shrugged, “He might not be wrong but that would just be us tearing down a government to start another one and I don't think we're all about that.” he said placing a hand on the hilt of his sword.

You placed a hand on your hip and sighed, Techno wasn't wrong, going in and tearing apart a government just for new leaders to step in wasn’t exactly their style. After thinking for another moment you said, “Well both of us know Wilbur isn't exactly a stable entity.” You had both met the man many times and he acted completely normal most of the time but everyone could see that he was really a ticking time bomb. “If we place Wilbur back into control of L’manburg it's likely that he will destroy the whole country within a month, but he will still have power and we could just get whatever we want out of him favor wise before he makes the country kick the bucket and then we can just leave.” you said, finishing off your thought. 

Techno considered this for a moment leaning to the side, his braid shifting over his shoulder. “If we did that,” he said, “we would have to know what to ask for up front in our agreement or immediately after we finish going through with everything.” 

There was no doubt in your abilities on either side of your duo, if the two of you set off to complete a task it would be completed. This of course led to a certain degree of arrogance and carelessness which was something neither one of you seemed to realize. Yet despite this you seldom had difficulty succeeding in your agendas. 

“Well,” you started, "What's something we want that Wilbur Soot could give us? I am lacking knowledge of what L’manburg holds of value. I know there was a lot of illegal potion brewing going on but we both prefer to brew our own.” You finished, sitting on one of the logs you had used for seats while sitting by your fire last night.

Techno sat down next to you after swinging off his large cape, “I suppose we can figure it out when we get there.” he said.

“Well then I guess you should go get washed up and I’ll make us some food before we follow this little fox to our next destination.” 

~ around an hour later ~ 

After you had eaten your breakfast and both packed your things into the saddle bag of your horse you looked at the small fox before you. 

Techno let out a series of grunts and the fox looked up at him before standing up, it seemed to wait for the both of you as you swung into the saddle of the horse allowing Techno to climb on behind you. Good horses were expensive and you two had found it easier to share one than spend the money and the time taking care of two, besides Carl was a sturdy horse and had no trouble carrying the both of you. 

The fox started forward and you took that as a signal to follow, you tapped the side of the horse to urge it forward and you began your journey towards L’manburg and the war that would follow your arrival. 

Thank you to everyone for reading the first chapter! I’ve really enjoyed writing this thus far and am looking forward to writing more! 

Have a super POG day! - Bree <3

[dindjarinbae]

Four Words, Fourteen Letters (Din Djarin x reader)

requested by @insertcoolnamee:  DIN OWNS MY HEART that's all. Like you could write about Din dropping hints that he wants to marry the reader?

second request by anon: Hi could you please do a part 3 to All My Love series cuz OH MAN ITS TOO GOOD I NEED MORE SO MUCH MORE

okay hi so basically, i fused these two requests together and made this. i am so sorry it is so short but i am dying in recovery from surgery so pls forgive. im going to be working on other requests for the time being so my request box is still closed, but if you ever need anything, my message box is ALWAYS open. i promise im nice. OKAY LOVE U ALL.

WARNINGS: none, just fluffy

WORD COUNT: 1379

READ PART ONE HERE

READ PART TWO HERE

There was seldom peace on the Razor Crest. Usually the kid was causing some havoc or there was an unrelentingly annoying bounty, sometimes there was just Din getting grumpy, and then the times it was Grogu crying, which in turn would break your heart and you’d have to cry along with him. 

But not today. And Din was thankful for that. As he climbed down from the cockpit and let his eyes settle upon you and the sleeping baby in your lap as you sat on the floor against the wall, he realized something. He wanted you around forever.

He had always wanted you around, always. You made him happy, you and him shared so much love, he was simply full of bliss around you. But by forever... forever meant he wanted to put a pretty ring on your finger and have you take his last name. 

Din Djarin wanted to marry you. 

The only problem was that he didn’t really know how to ask. He had never been a very emotional person, and he’d never been good with words either. So he started very simple to see if you’d catch on. 

The first hint he dropped was two days later when the three of you were all walking off the ship on Nevarro to return a bounty to Greef Karga. He glanced over at you while you held onto the baby and he smiled underneath his helmet at the way you made sure to cover the baby’s eyes to keep the sun from irritating the fifty year old toddler. You turned your head and looked up at Din with a smile, “Look, I made him a little hat kinda.” You giggled. 

And sure enough, you did. You’d used one of your scarves to wrap around his little head and he looked like he was comfortably swaddled. He probably was. He adored you, there was no doubt about that. And there was also no doubt that he saw you as a mother. Din smiled underneath his helmet and he looked down at the two of you before taking a breath, “Every little guy needs a mother to make him a hat when it’s hot out.” He said pointedly and made a point to look at you intensely. 

If you noticed, you didn’t really say anything, and you giggled, “I guess so. It’s kinda hard with these ears, though.” You said and reached down to brush your thumb across one of his long ears, and he cooed, trying to reach up and grab at your fingers. 

The second hint Din decided to drop was a little more obvious, and it was while the baby napped down in the hull. You and Din sat in the cockpit, him in his pilot’s chair and you sat happily on his right thigh with your legs draped across his lap while you sat with his left arm in your lap. You sat with a clean cloth as you tried to buff a few scuffs out of his beskar vambrace while he watched your face admiringly.

“Y/n.” He said your name more as a statement than a question, and you turned your head up towards him. 

“Huh?” You asked lamely and he couldn’t help but chuckle. 

“Have you ever thought about marriage?” He asked quietly and traced one of his gloved fingers along the side of your leg as it rested over the tops of his. 

You thought for a moment and then you gave him a nod, “Yeah, I’ve thought about it. Have you?” You asked and looked up to where you imagined his eyes would be. 

It was Din’s turn to nod at you this time and you smiled a bit, contently turning back to buffing out his armor until it gleamed. He assumed that was the last of the conversation and he fell silent as he watched your delicate hands work to shine up his armor. 

Later that night after you had fallen asleep in his lap up in the cockpit, he carried you down to the bunk that you often shared with him and he laid you down before shedding his armor and his helmet. He crawled in right next to you and he wrapped both of his arms around your waist, tugging you back against him. You stirred a bit as the motion of being moved back and you placed both of your hands down against his wrists. You didn’t turn your head around because you felt his chin on your head and you sighed out contently. 

“Are you awake?” Din asked, quietly enough so that if you weren’t, you didn’t wake, but loud enough that if you were awake, you’d hear. You nodded very gently and you felt his arms tighten around you as he tugged you backwards until you were flush against his chest, “you shouldn’t be. Go back to sleep, it’s so late, y/n.” He scolded gently and placed a gentle kiss on the top of your head. 

“Well then why did you ask me if I was awake?” You giggled and shook your head, sighing out contently at the feeling of the gentle kiss he left on top of your head. 

He didn’t answer but he let out a sigh as well and you brushed your thumbs over his wrists and turned your head back to place a small kiss on his chin, his facial hair tickling your chin and lips, “Getting a little furry, Mister bounty hunter, perhaps you should shave tomorrow night.” You teased and he only laughed in reply and buried his face in your neck, placing a few kisses against the skin just below your jawline. 

 You giggled while the scruff on his face tickled your neck and you rolled over so that you were facing him, “I love you, you know.” You said happily and tapped around his face in the dark to find his lips before you leaned in and pressed a little kiss upon them. He pulled back and let out a quiet breath before he reached for your hand and held it tightly in his own. 

“Of course I know. And I love you. I love you very much, in fact. I want you in my life forever, I daresay.” He whispered and you felt the slight tremble in his hand. 

He was nervous. He knew it was now or never, because you weren’t taking any hints and he was gonna chicken out any other time. What others would’ve described as butterflies in their stomach, he would describe as a million kicking children. His heart beat heavily and quickly in his chest and he felt the words tumblr from his lips before he could even think them through:

“I want you to marry me. I want to marry you. Will you marry me?” He blurted and it felt like time stopped. The bunk around you two seemed hotter and he felt almost dizzy with excitement and terrible, sickening anticipation, while you, on the other hand, were screaming inside of your head. Truly, you wanted nothing more but to marry Din Djarin. You knew in your soul that he was the one person you would love until time ran out and the infinite universe swallowed up the galaxy, sniffling it out like a small flame. It was four words. Fourteen simple letters. But he was petrified.

The silence scared him and he almost recanted his words, ready to gloss them over with assurance that he was only teasing before your arms slung around his neck and your lips were upon his. 

“Yes, yes, I’ll marry you. Of course I’ll marry you.” You breathed against his mouth and pulled him down for a deeper kiss. 

He had to pull away, breathlessly, so that he could smile and catch his breath. His heart was still racing like a herd of running orbaks, and he nodded, “I love you. I cannot wait to call you my wife. To raise the kid with you. To show you my face.” He breathed, and you were over the moon, arms still tightly wrapped around his neck. 

As you laid there in silence together, your lips repeatedly finding each other’s, he had one thought cross his mind:

y/n Djarin. 

Yeah. He liked that.