#it was hard to do with the wax cooling after 2 second so it’s a bit messy

[yoohyeon]

Late Mother’s Day gift 💐

[prongsfish]

@jegulus-microfic / mar 2 / pool / 1,283 words - tiny nsfw warning, they're just horny idiots but they don't do shit lmao

James was trying really hard to be cool about it. Really, really hard.

He was not doing so well.

It was the first summer break since Regulus had started university, reunited with Sirius, and, eventually, started dating James. He was thrilled, full of so much love he could barely handle it, and if he could, he’d spend every second surrounded by all their friends. This meant, of course, that he had been making summer plans 3 months in advance. He wouldn’t spend a single day alone if it were up to him.

They were a week in, and Regulus had stayed with his friends that whole week. He’d been in a dorm with Barty and Evan the past year, but the moment they’d found a decent house to rent off campus, they’d done it. They had the money, so why not? The first week of break was dedicated to moving in and James and Sirius had offered to help, but Regulus insisted they’d only distract him. Today was the first day he was seeing Regulus again, so of course he’d made big plans to celebrate. 

This meant that he found himself running around in his ridiculously large backyard, surrounded by everyone he could think to invite to a day in the pool. Sirius had already dragged Remus into the water, where Peter had quickly followed, but James still had a few things to finish before he’d let himself fully relax. Marlene had nearly knocked him over running as he walked out with a jug of lemonade and a stack of glasses balanced precariously in his arms, quickly followed by Mary chasing after her, both girls holding water guns. Thankfully, he managed to keep everything safe in his grasp. After placing it gingerly down on the table, he’d looked up, seen Evan and Barty engaged in what seemed to be some sort of pool noodle battle, and immediately turned away. If it was anyone else he might’ve joined them, but knowing those two, it’d start out a degree too violent and end quite a few degrees too sexual. He wasn’t gonna get involved.

That was all fine, though. Just being surrounded by all his friends, all so joyful and free, made him feel like he was floating.

No, what he couldn’t deal with, what he could not be cool about, was turning away from Evan and Barty to see Regulus stretched across a sun lounge, his pale, bare skin glimmering in the sunlight, looking up at James with an expression that made his whole body tingle. His hair was pushed back by sunglasses on his forehead, and he was wearing only dark green swim shorts that ended halfway down his thighs. The worst part, though, was the piece of watermelon in his hand. He took a slow bite out of it, red juice spilling from his lips to drip down his chin. His gaze alternated between the piece of fruit and James with heavy eyelids, not making any movement to wipe his chin.

James thought he might die.

He’d missed Regulus all week- His friends were long past sick of hearing him wax poetic about him, along with his own despair and loneliness- but he’d been excited more than anything just to see him, talk to him, hold his hand.

Regulus was making it incredibly difficult to stick to thoughts as pure as those ones.

He simply stood, frozen, next to the lemonade. His face was blank and he stared as Regulus continued to eat, each bite leaving more juice dripping down his face and hand. James had picked a really, really good watermelon, and there it was, biting him in the ass. Regulus took his time eating, savouring every second of it, running his tongue along the edges whenever the juice began to pool. James could feel the heat across his cheeks and only hoped that it wasn’t as blatantly obvious to the eye as it felt, burning up his face. 

He hadn’t even spoken to Regulus properly, too busy setting up, and his friends had been quick to drag him outside and away from James. They’d only exchanged quick greetings, yet he already wanted nothing but to throw him over his shoulder and carry him upstairs to his bedroom. He was supposed to be hosting a party, for fuck’s sake, and Regulus knew exactly what he was doing. He wasn’t trying to fool anyone, eyes hazy with lust staring up and down James’ body, reminding him that he was also only wearing shorts. He knew how much his athlete’s build and happy trail affected his boyfriend, and it made him glad to know he wasn’t the only one struggling to keep his composure in that moment. He felt a little less ashamed that he was moments away from hard knowing that he wasn’t alone in it.

He was still pretty ashamed, though.

It couldn’t have been more than a couple of minutes, but it felt like hours had passed when Regulus finally finished the slice of watermelon, sucking gently on the rind before placing it down. He pulled his hand back up and, where juice had dripped down between his pointer and thumb fingers, he ran his tongue along it. He closed his eyes as he did it, then smiled slightly with a hum, and that right there was James’ breaking point. He went from standing frozen by the table to leaning over Regulus at the side of the sun lounge before he could even open his eyes again, but when he did, the corner of his mouth twitched just barely before he adjusted his expression to one of false obliviousness.

“Hey, baby. You alright?”

James squinted at him. “You’re fucking evil.”

Regulus simply blinked, perfectly innocent and clueless. “What are you talking about, Jamie?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” James sputtered, even more than he would’ve before the rare nickname was used, “You, you-”

Regulus smiled up at him, genuine and pure. That bastard. James couldn’t form any words, so after a moment or two of stuttering, he gave up, dropped his knees on the edge of the lounge, and pulled Regulus into a deep kiss. He surged into it, grabbing James’ shoulders and kissing him back with a fire that matched the one building inside of James. He could taste the watermelon inside of Regulus’ mouth, even more so when he slipped his tongue out from inside his mouth to swipe it over his chin, finally cleaning it of the sticky juice. He groaned lowly at the sweet taste of it, and Regulus pushed even further into the kiss, both of them seeking more, more, more-

They were interrupted when a bright purple torpedo hit James in the side of his head, and he broke away from Regulus, cursing and rubbing the spot of impact.

“Stop devouring my little brother, you freak!” Sirius shouted while laughter came from all around them. Regulus stuck his middle finger off at his brother, who simply cackled from where he floated in the pool on a doughnut, and James sighed, forcing Regulus to shimmy over so he could lay on his side next to him. 

“Evil.” He repeated, and this time, Regulus’ smile was a lot less innocent.

“It didn’t seem like you minded that much, really.”

“No, I didn’t.” He admitted, grinning as he buried his head into his boyfriend’s neck, who only laughed. 

“Missed you.” He said after a minute of silence. It was muffled, and Regulus let his hands move from around his back to up in the back of his hair, running mindlessly through his curls as he kissed the top of his head. 

“Missed you too, baby.”

[quinloki]

Birthday Request Event

"It's my birthday and I'll write what I want to \o/"

Gift Details ♥ Reader: Dealer's Choice (afab!reader) Character: Thatch Kink: #2 Praise Kink Prompt: Dealer's Choice (I winged it and oh... oh my gods.) Gift Giver: @khadoxofthemlems

Summary: Is it possible to have a praise-war between you and your new beau? Most certainly.

Content Notes: I... I don't know. Incorrect use of icing. implied smut. It's really sweet and also like, WHEW.

This birthday party is 18+, consensual unless explicitly stated otherwise, and BYOB

“Your icing work is so pretty!” You had beamed a few weeks ago, watching Thatch decorate the birthday cake for the month. He’d squeezed the tube too hard, red in the face and completely off-guard, and it had been how the two of you ended up getting closer together.

Thatch wooed you like an old man, and you teased him for it, but the intent was adorable. He’d bring you flowers from the islands, or make icing flowers around the edges of your food. You’d tug his scarf when no one else was nearby and steal a kiss, causing his face to go red again.

Everyone teased Thatch more than you, but the chef seemed to revel in it. The sea dog was a romantic at heart, and he loved all the praises you lavished on him.

After your first night together, a quiet evening of searching hands and soft kisses and hours of worship between the two of you, Thatch asked if he could do something self-indulgent. You agreed, and agreed a second time when he said it would have to happen in the galley.

Now you’re sitting on wax paper laid out over a table, naked and smiling as Thatch is making icing-flowers around you. His ears are red as you’ve already started praising his work.

“At least now I understand why your hands were so steady on our first night.” You muse softly as you watch him work. “And so… precise.” You say pointedly and watch Thatch’s fingers twitch.

This time he manages to keep his cool and not squeeze half the icing onto the flower, but you can see his ears flush red. He clears his throat a little, looking up at you with a smirk.

“What I would give, so that everything in my life was as sweet as you,” he replies, standing up enough to kiss you. You can feel the heat rush through you, your heart fluttering at the sweet words and warm kiss, struggling to keep your breath and yourself steady.

“How’re your legs?”

“Fine, nothing is uncomfortable.” You assure him. “I told you, I can sit like this for hours. My flexing hasn’t disrupted your flowers, I hope?”

Thatch looks around and then shakes his head. “Not even a little.” There’s a devious grin on his face as he nuzzles into your neck, goatee teasing your skin before his lips do. “I wonder if those little flexes will disrupt the decorations I put on you.”

“O-on me?”

Thatch smiles at you and you feel your heart thump heavy in your chest. He picks up a different piping bag and begins to wind thin green “vines” up from the flowers around you. The thin lines of frosting are a little cold, but they were very thin, and thus very light, sitting atop the fine hairs on your thighs and sending odd shivers into your skin from what was an impossibly light touch.

“Stay still, my sweet.” Thatch admonishes lightly, focused on his work. “I don’t want to make any mistakes.”

Something in his tone warms your core, and the confidence you had a few moments ago is slipping away. You were certain you had the chef wrapped around your finger – a little praise, a shy look, and Thatch melted to your will. You weren’t leading him on, it was pleasant for both of you, but now you felt a little like a thief caught by their own trap.

“Th-Thatch.” You whisper softly as the vine twists and turns up your thighs toward your hips.

“Yes, mein törtchen?” He answers, not looking up from his work.

“Y-You’re not… making any more… flowers?” You’re struggling to not shiver from the sound of his voice.

Thatch stops, swirling a vine just inside your thigh. So close, he’s so close and you’re so wet, he has to know, you’re certain of it. He straightens, hand gently caressing the side of your face as he gives you a soft smile.

“But you, are the flower.” He says softly, slowly closing the distance between your lips and his. “No baker would make a flower on top of one that’s already perfect.”

Thatch’s hand is on your thigh as his lips capture yours, devouring your surprised squeak as icing smears against your skin. A deep kiss and needy hands were the start of your evening, and hardly any of the flowers survived the night without some sign of the passion shared between the two of you.

Not even you.

Check out the event - requests are accepted until 7/31/2023 EST

[hmsharmony]

Give me all your thoughts about tsitp!!!!!

ALL OF THEM??? That's a lot of thoughts, seek!!! With very little guidance!! So here, please have a bunch of thoughts with zero segues between them.

Though some caveats before I dive in: 1) I have not rewatched S1 since it aired so my memories are FUZZY; and 2) I read the first book (and only the first book) back in 2015 and started the show knowing I preferred Jeremiah to Conrad.

WITH THAT SAID.

First, I want to wax poetic again about the "Delicate" scene, despite having already screamed about it in the tags of multiple reblogs. But it was just!! so!!! good!!! Altered my brain chemistry, cleared my skin, watered my crops etc. The timing is just SO!!!! "I pretend you're mine all the damn time" as they're holding each other and staring??? Belly breaking the stare and slipping underwater and swimming away as "'Cause I like you" fades into "is it cool that I said all that?" because she's not sure what to do, especially after the golf course? The camera switching to Jeremiah staring uncertainly after her during "is it chill that you're in my head?" only for him to go after her?? The instrumental break as they talk, and then "isn't it isn't it isn't it" playing as their hands reach for and grab each other? I AM LOSING MY GODDAMNED MIND THE ACTUAL FUCK.

Okay, now that I've screamed about that again, moving on:

I think our feelings are aligned re Conrad. The moody, bad communicator, maladjusted boy is not for me. Even when I was a teenager, Conrad-like male characters generally weren't my favorite (obvs that's not a hard and fast rule--if you look back at what I was shipping as a teen, there are moody boys there, although I'd argue those moody boys developed into much less moody, healthier characters). So I don't think it's a surprise that I do not enjoy Conrad. I'm open to changing my mind, but I'm also not invested in his growth. 🤷 To the extent I am invested, it's vis-à-vis Jeremiah, not Belly. Part of that undeniably is because Jeremiah is my fave, but a larger part is because narratively Jeremiah should be his most important relationship. I hope the show surprises me, but I'm also not holding my breath. Also, also! Going back to the most recent ep, where Conrad insists that he went home whenever he could to help with their mom: it's hard to buy that when the only time we see him come home was when he wanted to guilt Jeremiah into blessing his relationship with Belly. Of course, that's Jeremiah's POV, and maybe he's an unreliable narrator (in this case, only showing us that one time Conrad came home when there were many others). But so far the only evidence we have that Conrad made an effort with their mom is Conrad's assertion that he was there, and I'm not buying it.

Next, Belly. I'm gonna be honest: there is very little in this world that will get me to defend or love a character more than making them a teenaged girl. There is only one teenage girl in the history of media that I can recall actively disliking, and the rest I would probably kill for. Society hates and looks down on them, writers often fuck up their writing and create a narrative that unfairly blames them, and thus I grant them a lot of leeway. I absolutely have a double standard--if a teenaged girl does something questionable, I generally am much more willing to forgive than if it was any other character. So even though she's acted fairly selfishly this season, I have a lot of love in my heart for Belly and, unlike with Conrad, I am interested in seeing her hopefully grow and recognize that this should not be about her. Susannah was important to her. That house is important to her. But at the end of the day, she didn't lose her mother, and that house was never hers. Her feelings should come second to Jeremiah's and Conrad's, and right now that's not happening. None of this is surprising for a teenager, but I need the narrative to call this behavior out, and it's not. I also really, really, really need her to recognize that her relationship with Conrad was not healthy, and that it will not be healthy unless and until they both (but especially Conrad) work on themselves. Finally, and I touched on this with my villain origin story ask, it's frustrating that Belly is getting pieces of information about why Jeremiah has had his walls up, but not recognizing it as that. I can buy her being confused about Jeremiah on the golf course because Conrad told her he moved on. But then for Jeremiah to reveal, hey, Conrad actually came to me and made me give him my blessing, and for Belly's only reaction to be, "Conrad cared so much that he went to Jeremiah!!!" and not "wow this does not align with what Conrad told me when I was worried about Jeremiah" is kdslfjdksljf. Will the show circle back and have Belly question this? Maybe, but again, based on how they've framed it so far, I doubt it.

Jeremiah is easily my fave, and has been from the start. Characters that act happy-go-lucky, like they can't be relied upon, like all they care about is having fun, while actually being the one person who will always be there for the people they love? Characters hiding grief behind beaming smiles? Characters with heavy responsibilities placed on them too soon??? THEN MAKE THEM ONE HALF OF A BEST FRIENDSHIP TURNED MORE SHIP??? 100% my kryptonite, I was a goner before I picked up the book 9 years ago. Just, god. This 17-year-old boy having to deal with 1) his mother has cancer; 2) his brother KNEW his mother had cancer and never told him; and 3) the girl he thinks he has something with (I can't remember where his relationship with Belly stood at the end of S1 oops so hopefully this is accurate) kissed his brother and now she wants to pursue a relationship with that brother?? All of it at once?? And what he chooses to do is take care of his mom, figuring out smoothie recipes to keep her healthy, putting on a beaming face for her so she won't worry, hanging out with her in his senior year of high school when the only thing he should be worried about is applying for college (which, and I think you've touched on this--has he???)? Get the fuck out, this boy deserves the world and all he gets is hate.

Finally, I am Angry that Laurel has been missing for so much of this season. Outside of Jeremiah and Conrad (notwithstanding how I feel about the latter), Laurel's reaction is the most important--much more important than Belly's (sorry Belly). IDK. Again, maybe I'm biased: I've had the same best friend for 20+ years, so to see their friendship pushed aside?? To not focus on how Laurel is processing all this? Fucking criminal. (And look, I know this show's target audience is teens/early 20s. But Back In My Day teen dramas also focused on the parents to capture that 25-49 demo. And because they had 22-26 episodes to fill, and I am realizing yet again this is why the 8- to 10-episode seasons are fucking cursed.) How many times has Laurel thought of something and reached for her phone to text her best friend? How many things in her house are from Susannah, or are from a trip with Susannah, or just makes her think of Susannah? How many times has she said or done something that she picked up from Susannah, only to realize she only says that word that way because of Susannah and almost crumbling from the grief of that realization? And god, what was writing the book like? What was it like trying to distill into writing one of her most important relationships? What was it like putting Susannah out there for everyone to know, to judge? How many times did she think about not publishing because Susannah is hers, because she wasn't ready to share her best friend with the world, because any criticism of the book would feel like criticism of one of her great loves? I need to know, I want to know, and I deserve to know!!! I want to see Laurel dealing with this, and not just as it affects her relationship with Belly (which is also important!!! do not get me wrong!! but Laurel didn't stop being her own person when she became a mother). Give me the Laurel-centered episode, show! We can go without the love triangle shenanigans for 50 minutes, I promise!

So there are thoughts!

[valgasnewsthings]

Marvellous remedy.

 When heartburn beginning am using a very simple and tested remedy, I take green apple, clean from peel, cut on layers, and right away eating 1/3 apple, in a few min. heartburn stopping.

In bedsores, non-healing wounds, ulcers, different   hardening use 100 ml. of vegetable oil, boil and add piece of bee wax, like a size of walnut. Mix all, cool. A mass , like Vaseline received, is a true marvellous cure. Grease for hurting places, wounds, ulcers, they are slowly healing, slowly disappearing different hardening.

Or still a good recipe against bedsores.

Fresh cabbage leafs, put in dish with vegetable oil/better is hyppophae oi/, and apply on bedsores, for a next day cabbage leaf will dry,like paper, doing this on an everyday till a full recovering.

9 years ago my joints are strong hurt, pills are not helped, ache raised and of sheet, which am covering. Thus, from despair am used a recipe, which am heard from my friend  as a cure for ache with onion.

Chop onion till juice giving, after apply onion to the ache joint, close film, wrap a warm scarf, and keep compress till ache stopping. Fresh hurt stops in a day, and after am doing still 1-2 compress for preventing.

And in my family and me is fungus on legs stayed, cured with ointments, lotions, and nothing helped, and just this method helped fought it.

One part of 70 percents vinegar food s acid at market you can to buy and two parts for glycerine at pharmacy you can buy, mix, and treating are damaging by fungus places.

And on launched cases forming tampon of gauze or cotton, wet in this solution, apply on damage place, wrap a top with film, and keep this compress for night.And on the morning a softening part to scrape and grease skin with cream.

If need to repeat, result is very good. And procedures doing carefully ,that for not burn a skin.

400 gr of honey, 4 lemons, one tea.sp. curcuma, dried grinder ginger , if root is fresh use 50 gr. Lemons to mince meat with peel, seeds remove, they are  bitter, and mix with honey, add curcuma, ginger. Use on the morning  one tbl.sp. for glass of hot boiled water on an empty stomach before 30 min till breakfast.

And so as for an everyday till remedy is ending.

This is remedy rises immunity and supports pressure in blood , am had his till 230 , now is in norm, thus am advising, and all of my friends are switched on this cure. This remedy is enough for long time. And not expensive, than pills ,which we're buying in pharmacy.

In our family is always having a taste and effective remedy against cold. And cook his a not hard.

0.5l. for salted lard, 2 garlic heads, green of dill, petroselinum, cilantro.. Lard and garlic to mince meat, chop greens, mix all. Add in clean jar and in refrigerator.. Received paste spreading on bread and eat with borsh, in my son-in-law if favourite meal, that he is not asks for second dish, my grandson enjoying eating her with dumplings . And this remedy is benefit for thin peoples for rising in body mass. And who fear for vessels , not worry, cholesterol he is not rising, thus paste having lots of greens and garlic. 

And still recipe for a cough cure , as tested for many times. After using, lungs and bronchus are becoming  like in baby.

One kg of young pine twigs washing, chopping, adding in big enamel pot, adding 3 l. of water, when water is boils, is on the weak fire keeping for 15 min, infuse for hour. Filter, adding one kg of honey, and 25 ml. /one bottle from drug store infusion of propolis. Mixing, put in refrigerator in glass of jar, use one tea .sp. for 3 times/day before meal, till condition improving.

    from Valga s health news,gardening,and cooking ,and beauty . https://ift.tt/wLlf4XQ via https://ift.tt/NkeAVWJ

[rended-symphony]

“your exhausted, hon”

feat dream team + karl + foolish (foolish is going to be included in everything and you can’t change it 😌 if ya reading this M you know who you are >:( )

warnings : burn out, candle mentions

~ dream ~

- you’ve discovered that dream is sorta like a candle. he can burn and burn and burn, working wonderfully and filling the space with wonderful things, yet if he keeps burning for to long he’ll turn to liquid wax

- and you had assigned yourself the task of blowing out his little workaholic of a candle, letting him cool off let still bring a different kind of wonderfulness in the space, just for you

- so after long days of work he will often drag himself to the living room, where you normally are, and place himself on your lap and snuggling into your chest once you do your usually routine of laying down for him

- you run your hands through his hair, fluffy and soft.

- “rough day?”

- “yeah.” he moans, voice hoarse

- “mh. good thing i’m always here to help.”

~ george ~

- he honestly was just so cold and tired after that hypothermia video (in which you told him not to do >:( )

- he just wanted to dry off and have you hold him, did not care about anything else

- as soon as he’s dry and in new clothes, he finds you and just

- “please cuddle me, baby” as he sits down, leaning against your chest

- you absolutely melt yet also freeze, realizing he’s so darn cold

- you push him off and tell him your gonna move him to the bedroom, and get some extra blankets too

- once you bring him to bed and cover him in blankets, you get under the layers and hold him gently and can already tell he’s about to drift off

~ sapnap ~

- he was a part of a chain stream, probably the fifth one streaming

- turns out it went on all day, 9am - 2 am (aka 17 whole hours)

- he was exhausted, voice hoarse and sleepy eyes

- your already in bed but have a hard time sleeping without him, so kinda just lying down scrolling Twitter

- he’s finally done and, with as little energy he has to put into anything, somehow tells for you like the houses on fire

- you immediately jump out of bed and run to his office

- “what happened?!”

- “babe I’m tired.” somehow says “:(“

- you just stare at him for a second

- “sappy what the hell, you got me worried!” you say moving in front of him, he clings onto you like a koala and you carry him to bed (with much difficulty)

- sit him in bed and get some water

- once your back to bed you let him lay his head on your chest and fall asleep

~ karl ~

- unlike the others, he wasn’t tired from streaming. he had been planning lore all day and was brain dead, no thoughts in those (very pretty) eyes

- he knew he had to get a good nights sleep cause he was going to help film in a mr. beast video tomorrow

- but also knew that after the long lore day he would have to many thought running around his head to fall asleep peacefully

- so he asks you to go to bed with him, and with some blushing and giggles, you agree

- he asks you to talk to him so he can get his head out of lore mode, so you kinda just talk about your day

- he ends up falling asleep in like ten minutes and you don’t realize for ten more minutes

~ foolish ~

- he had been pretty busy all day. he worked a lot on builds, helped cook dinner, helped out with family stuff, was just really tired and groggy by the end of the day

- and you usually stream near the end of the day, and you ended right when he was done for the day

- so as soon as he got him he dragged himself to your office and knocked, not even bothering to see if you’d actually let him in cause you always do

- “buttercup, i’m really tired. are you still streaming?”

- you look over to him right after the stream ended and nod, “no. come ‘er, hon.”

- he just sits on your lap and buries his face in your neck, soon falling asleep and you somehow carrying him to bed

[sakurology]

could you do the nsfw alphabet for atsumu please? thank you :)

Aw shit, here we go again...

NSFW Alphabet: Miya Atsumu

gn!reader focused

A/N: She hasn’t written in awhile but you know what I’m proud of it- lol be nice to me or I’ll leave forever jk I won’t but still be nice to me ily 💕 Atsumu is a menace I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Obviously nasty below the cut so if you’re a kid fuck off

𝕬 - 𝕬𝖋𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖈𝖆𝖗𝖊

He’s not the best, but certainly not the worst. He will take care of you, but… only after he takes care of himself first. Usually that just means he needs to take a shower. Once he does, he’s free to supply cuddles until you both fall asleep.

𝕭 - 𝕭𝖔𝖉𝖞 𝕻𝖆𝖗𝖙

He has abs so solid you could make a sharkcoochie board on them. That’s all I’m going to say about that.

𝕮 - 𝕮𝖚𝖒

When Atsumu cums… he cums hard. It’s like having an out of body experience- every nerve cell in his body is firing off as he tenses up, digging his nails into whatever flesh he can grab, and grinding his heels into the surface supporting him. He bites down so hard his teeth grind involuntarily as his face contorts in a strained statuesque vision. One low growl from deep in his chest comes out through gritted teeth as he sputters out mixtures of “that’s it,” and “don’t you dare fucking stop.”

The orgasm face of Atsumu Miya is one of the 7 wonders of the world.

𝕯 - 𝕯𝖎𝖗𝖙𝖞 𝕾𝖊𝖈𝖗𝖊𝖙

It’s not a secret per se, but he’s been exposed and clowned for eating ass… so he doesn’t wanna talk about it.

𝕰 - 𝕰𝖝𝖕𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖓𝖈𝖊

So contrary to popular belief, I don’t think he’s that experienced... he’s just lucky! (Lmaoooo all of his experience is based on like 2 actual people that he maybe got to second base with (he says third but come on we know he’s lying) and then a litany of porn. Poor thing just wants some coochie I AM HERE KING and he has no trouble finding it, he just never seals the deal. He’s someone who just kind of, knows what to do naturally. He’s able to read someone’s body by touch alone, and so he knows what you like right off the bat based on how you react. He might try a couple of things at the start to see what really makes you squirm, but once he’s got it... holy hell has he ever got it.

𝕱 - 𝕱𝖆𝖛𝖔𝖗𝖎𝖙𝖊 𝕻𝖔𝖘𝖎𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓

I hate to say how easy this was- but I KNOW Atsumu is a guy who prefers doggy. I see him as a hair puller, so this is perfect for him. I also could see him being into mirrors, and this is the perfect position to make you look at what he’s doing to you, especially while he’s pulling your head back by your hair. He especially likes gripping his thumbs into the smalls of your back (he crosses his arms bc saw it in a porn once and he thinks it makes him look cool), and when he’s INTO it, he likes to smack your ass to encourage you.

𝕲 - 𝕲𝖔𝖔𝖋𝖞

Is goofy by accident. Like will sometimes try throwing in something new with his normal dirty talk that completely throws you off. He hates when you laugh at him for it, but you find it endearing.

𝕳 - 𝕳𝖆𝖎𝖗

I’m gonna… say something so controversial yet so bold:

What hair?

And yes I mean that. Smooth. He waxes. Monthly. No hair. (Besides like… legs and armpits… yah he doesn’t touch those) Naked mole rat dick but fuck it he’s Atsumu motherfucking Miya he can do what he wants.

𝕴 - 𝕴𝖓𝖙𝖎𝖒𝖆𝖈𝖞

While he’s not the most... romantic in general per se, he does want to make you feel appreciated. He’s very eager to get his, but he won’t allow himself to unless you have already. It takes restraint, but he cools himself down by having you get on top, or by leaving lingering kisses anywhere he can, saying you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever laid eyes on.

𝕵 - 𝕵𝖆𝖈𝖐 𝕺𝖋𝖋

When he’s away from you he loves to send you videos of himself or FaceTime you. He gets you worked up enough to join him no matter where you are. He just needs to see you, he needs you to see him stroking his cock to the thought of you- he can’t cum without you telling him to.

𝕶 - 𝕶𝖎𝖓𝖐

I have to get this out but I KNOW he’s nasty. I imagine Atsumu as a huge dirty talker and also someone who’s into spitting. Both of those are just clear in my brain... like he would be pundinng you from behind, spit on your back, and then call you a slut all in 3 seconds flat but the way that you would cream? Ugh insanity he needs to be arrested he needs to be stopped

𝕷 - 𝕷𝖔𝖈𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓

Since he’s got money now- he’s a big fan of ordering Uber XLs or even just hiring a driver for a night on the town as a flex. But he especially loves telling his driver to put up the window partition while he annihilates you in the backseat. I just think he’s a fan of car sex in general- it just does it for him.

𝕸 - 𝕸𝖔𝖙𝖎𝖛𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓

Loves to hear his name. Whether you’re moaning it or screaming it like it’s the only word you know, he’s always going to ask you who you belong to, and the answer is always Atsumu.

𝕹 - 𝕹𝖔!

He totally eats ass. He’s just not gonna tell anyone bc he told Osamu ONCE and now his contact name is ASStumu and he lives in fear of that getting out.

𝕺 - 𝕺𝖗𝖆𝖑

Sloppppppyyyyyy. Loves giving ~slightly~ more than receiving, simply bc he loves the sight of seeing his spit dripping down your thighs while he goes down on you. Loves eye contact when you’re going down on him.

𝕻 - 𝕻𝖆𝖈𝖊

Though I wouldn’t say he’s super experienced, I know he’s relentless. He fucks. Literally just fucks. Not in the sense that he only treats you like a hole bc yikes, but in the sense that he just goes the speeds of fast or faster. There’s no slow with him.

𝕼 - 𝕼𝖚𝖎𝖈𝖐𝖎𝖊

Yeah. Lots of them. Anywhere, anytime. Particularly for him, a lot of them end up being in his car, simply because you’ll be out somewhere and the mood strikes. He’ll quickly take you out to the car for a few minutes, slut you out, and then return to the function like nothing happened. You’ve had many a quickie in a bathroom or closet in a party as well. When he wants you, he wants you, so he’s not afraid to take you.

𝕽 - 𝕽𝖎𝖘𝖐

Not as much of a risk-taker as people think. Mostly because he wants to protect you. He would hate for someone to see you in such a compromising position… but also, you’ve had your fair share of quickies in the bathrooms of various wedding receptions, so he’s lying.

𝕾 - 𝕾𝖙𝖆𝖒𝖎𝖓𝖆

Can last a decent amount of time, if he spreads it out over multiple rounds. I’m general, he can probably go about 2 or 3 rounds without needing a break. More if you draw out foreplay with him. He’s a pleaser, so really how long he lasts is up to you. He’s got the power and control to hold off on is own release until he’s certain you absolutely can’t take anymore.

𝕿 - 𝕿𝖔𝖞

One of those mfs who gets you the mold of his dick as a toy for your birthday for when he’s away because according to him “you’ll be so needy while I’m gone”

I hate him so much but I would use that shit every day he knows what he’s doing I’m so upset

𝖀 - 𝖀𝖓𝖋𝖆𝖎𝖗

Speaking of being needy- he loves to egg you on when you are. He knows all the buttons to push, but he’ll never actually make the move until you’re begging. And of course he loves to turn that around in you, hitting you with that “god, ya just can’t get enough of me, can ya?”

𝖁 - 𝖁𝖔𝖑𝖚𝖒𝖊

He’s more of a talker than a moaner. Not necessarily loud in bed- but very, very vocal. Commanding of you in a good way, and will definitely show his appreciation through praise.

𝖂 - 𝖂𝖎𝖑𝖉𝖈𝖆𝖗𝖉

Actually has a Cosmo subscription bc he likes trying all the strange and obscure sex positions in the articles. Also likes taking the quizzes, and will casually have you do them with him at breakfast.

𝖃 - 𝖃-𝕽𝖆𝖞

he’s a little on the thicker side. Its probably a good 7 inches, so it’s enough to fill you, add in the stretch of his girth and it’s a good, mild burn when he first goes in, but he fills you just enough without it being way too much. He’s a shower, so he doesn’t get much longer, but you have a lot to work with. He also has a cute freckle on his left inner thigh.

𝖄 - 𝖄𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌

His sex drive is on the higher end, but really only when he’s in his off season. When he’s actively playing in games, he tries to curb his appetite a bit because he believes in the superstition that sex messes with players’ stamina on the court.

𝖅 - 𝖅𝖟𝖟

He’s gonna knock out, but not until he showers. He ALWAYS showers after. The water soothes his muscles and by the time he’s done it’s lights out.

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[squishmallow36]

Hopefully Somewhere I'm Healing

Word count: 8.4k Me? Go overboard? Never.

Tw: swearing, internalized homophobia, food, and as always, let me know if you'd like me to tag something

Taglist (lmk if you want to be added/removed!): @stellar-lune @gaslight-gaetkeep-gayboss @kamikothe1and0lny @nyxpixels @florida-fruity-frog @poppinspop @crystallinewalker @uni-seahorse-572 @solreefs @never-mourn-the-good @rusted-phone-calls @when-wax-wings-melt @cotyledon-tomentosa @good-old-fashioned-lover-boy7 @dexter-dizzknees @abubble125 @cherryberrybitch @blossomsxgalorex

A couple of notes before we start: this is part 2 of Waiting for the Stars to Come Out. The title is, again, lyrics from "Projection of Stars" by Prishaa (@poppinspop). You don't have to read the other half but this does reference some events in there.

Also, I wrote this one a little differently (like the actual writing process part) so if you have any feedback on that, it'd be greatly appreciated. Finally, this is from Fitz's pov. It's pretty obvious but I like to point it out anyway.

On Ao3 or below the cut!

    Fitz half-listens to Biana talking to aer boyfriend, Sophie, over the vidlink through the wall, trying to focus on the book he’s reading but to no avail. 

    Apparently a conversation about some new cartoon they’re both watching and Fitz has been doing his best to avoid is more interesting than Mark Twain. 

    And there’s evidence that that isn’t even his real name. It’s Samuel Clemens and he named himself after the safe depth of water for a steamboat. 

    Now, what a steamboat is, exactly, is something he doesn’t know, but the general idea is pretty self-explanatory. 

    He’s had enough of Tom Sawyer and his whining to try to focus through Biana’s conversation that’s getting steadily louder. 

    So he decides to head to the kitchenette in his side of their adjoined hotel rooms--one of the better kitchens they’ve had in one of these--and sees what sort of ingredients they have. 

    When in doubt, stress bake. 

    A batch of chocolate chip cookies and a knocked-over bag of flour later, Biana and Sophie are still talking. 

    He doesn’t let the cookies cool before he starts eating them, resulting in nothing more than a burnt tongue. It’s not the smartest idea he’s ever had. 

    Despite all of these attempts to keep himself busy, Fitz still finds himself sliding down to sit in front of the shared door, trying as a last resort to keep himself from thinking about Dex by picking out the cookie crumbs in his shirt. 

    But cookie crumbs run out.

    And Dex’s blasted dimples don’t fade. 

    Every time Biana’s on one of these calls, he tries his best to be out of his room, but when it’s the middle of the night, it’s hard to avoid hanging on to every single word to see if maybe, just maybe, Dex interrupts with some snarky comment. 

     Xe never does. 

     Somehow he’s always disappointed. 

    He buries his hands in his hair, feeling the blush creeping up his cheeks and heart flutter at anything that even remotely relates to Dex. 

    Fitz has only felt like this a handful of times before and--no, he won’t let himself finish that thought. That’s not what’s happening here. 

    That can’t be what’s happening here. 

    A lone tear escapes and Fitz scrubs it away. 

    Even if that is the reason for all of this--which it isn’t--there’s no way he could give in to these feelings. 

    Not after the absolute dumpster fire when Biana came out. 

    He’s the perfect son. 

    He can’t be anything less than straight. 

Singapore, Singapore, Eastern Commonwealth, March 28, 127 T.E.

    It’s really hot here. And really humid. A large portion of the second-era laws have been preserved so things like leaving gum on the sidewalk can cause you to be charged with a fine. More countries should adopt that. Just don’t get as tyrannical as Queen Gisela.

Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam, Eastern Commonwealth, April 4, 127 T.E. 

    Really good food but still really hot. The soups were all some of the best soups I’ve ever had, not just the pho, which is considered Vietnam’s national dish. It’s also really interesting how they use a Latin script with a lot of accent marks in their local language. Colonialism. Hooray. 

Shanghai, China, Eastern Commonwealth, April 11, 127 T.E. 

    We’re heading more northward for a bit, so maybe it won’t be as hot. One can hope. On a better note, some nice people tried to teach me a couple words in the local language because I was butchering it while trying to order food. I’m not sure how well I actually did, but they seemed to think it wasn’t that bad.  

New Beijing, China, Eastern Commonwealth, April 18, 127 T.E.

    You know, it’s kind of nice when your best friend is dating the Emperor. Well, like 80% of the time. So, yeah, we got the full VIP treatment, even staying in the guest rooms of the castle. It’s really beautiful, even when you’ve been to Artemisia Palace on a regular basis growing up. And the food was really good. The food is good everywhere here on Earth and I am enjoying every second of this.

Tokyo, Japan, Eastern Commonwealth, April 25, 127 T.E.

    I’ve eaten so much sushi I may be half fish at this point. I’ve also gotten to know what different names for things are. Like maki rolls have seaweed on the outside and rice on the inside and uramaki rolls have seaweed on the inside and rice on the outside. And sashimi is the fish on top of rice and sashimi is just the fish. I’m sure there’s more but a week is a very short time. 

Seoul, Korea, Eastern Commonwealth, May 2, 127 T.E.

    I ate this massive crab--like bigger than my head. Apparently Korean people just have a pair of scissors for this kind of thing, which is a great idea. We should be doing this more. As long as there’s a separate pair of scissors for crafting purposes. Biana also bought enough crisps to feed the entirety of Vatican City. 

Jakarta, Indonesia, Eastern Commonwealth, May 9, 127 T.E. 

    Last day in the Eastern Commonwealth, and, stars, it’s hot here. There’s so many different languages and cultures here though and that’s reflected in the food. Which was unbelievably good. Just like everywhere else. And I don’t know if I’m losing my mind, but I think this is the same flag as somewhere. I would check except I can’t remember which flag I’m thinking of. 

Wellington, New Zealand, Australia, May 16, 127 T.E.

    Kia ora! Biana is trying to convince me that northern and southern hemisphere seasons are opposite one another, and I’m not sure I believe aer, but it’s actually a really nice temperature here. Te Reo Māori (literally ‘the Māori language’) that’s minor but still spoken here by a few is really interesting because it’s part of the austro-polynesian language group which spans everywhere from Madagascar to Hawai’i. And it’s just so beautiful here. 

Tahiti, French Polynesia, Australia, May 23, 127 T.E.

    There’s a reason the beaches here are famous and that’s because they’re gorgeous. Although now I have some obvious tan lines which are…less than ideal. Te Reo Tahiti is part of the same language group as Te Reo Māori, although I wasn’t able to use the, like, three words of Te Reo Māori I remember. There’s a lot of local languages in my brain right now. The retention rate is very low.

Hawai’i, Hawai’i, Australia, May 30, 127 T.E.

    Hawai’i used to be part of the predecessor to the American Republic but after the fourth world war, it decided to join Australia, and we’re all gonna pretend it’s because it had more in common culturally with the rest of Polynesia when it’s probably because United States tourists did a number on it that I can’t even begin to describe. It made me ultra cautious of the impact Bi and I were making there. Also. The poke was on an entirely different level. And the pineapple? I’d never even heard of it but it’s a tart yellow fruit that looks kind of like the pine cones we saw in Portland if you squint a little. 

    Also Sophiana updates: 1. I’m too lazy to write their names separately. 2. Biana thinks tomorrow we’re gonna be heading up to Alaska, and while I want to go there, I know Biana needs to see aer boyfriend. They’ve spent enough time on vidlinks, they really need some in-person time. At least the time difference matches up nicely with Dex’s sleep schedule so we can plan this surprise for Sophiana.

    The next morning, Fitz wakes earlier than usual, shaking. He tries to pretend like it’s just the jet lag messing with his sleep schedule.

    But he knows that isn’t it. 

    He can’t seem to get the thought of seeing Dex again out of his head. He really would’ve thought this would’ve stopped by now. 

    If Biana wasn’t dating Sophie, it would be. 

    No. It’s not fair to blame aer for this. This is his problem. 

    And it doesn’t matter, because after the screaming match back six months ago, there’s no way Dex will even want to see him again, let alone--.

    Don’t you dare finish that sentence. 

    When the Alden denial technique isn’t working, just stop having thoughts. Think about something else. 

    Like reading King Lear. That’ll keep his mind occupied. 

    At least until they get to the market. 

    Then all bets are off. 

    Somewhere between the Earl of Gloucester’s eyes being ripped out of his head and the end of the play, Fitz hears Biana wake up and walk to aer bathroom to start aer day. 

    That’s when he realises that it’s barely an hour before his and Dex’s scheduled meetup at eleven and they still have to actually walk there. 

    His plan isn’t foolproof, but somehow despite the different latitudes, both San Diego and Anchorage have very similar temperatures. At least today. It’s certainly not like that all year. 

    He got a weather app after aer insistence back when they were in…was it Chicago? Yeah, he’ll go with that whether or not it’s accurate.

    He waits for ae to climb back into bed before knocking on their shared door. One nice thing about Earth is that in most of the cities they’ve visited, they’ve been able to get adjoining hotel rooms. 

    There were only a few where he slept on a pullout couch. And there was one night before he realised that existed and just slept on the very hard couch. 

    Biana groans through the door as Fitz knocks and opens it from his side. 

    “What do you want?” ae asks, muffled by pressing aer face into a pillow. 

    “Today’s excursion is starting soon. I’m gonna tell you to be ready by ten thirty. And, no, you don’t get to know what it is.”

    Obscuring their adventure isn’t exactly a rare occurrence this past couple of months. He’s found it has a better chance of getting Biana to leave their hotel room. He is not going to be paying for it to just have aer stay in it all day. 

    It also helps him disguise his master plan. 

    “Can’t I stay home?”

    “Nope. And there’s continental breakfast downstairs so don’t try to say you were eating.”

    Ae has about three arguments. And he’s been through all of them enough to not even have to try.

    Ae groans again. 

    “Don’t make me drag you out of bed myself. I doubt your hair would appreciate that very much.”

    “Fine.” Ae stands, stumbling towards aer bathroom, glaring at him less than he would’ve expected. 

    Instead of reading into that, he heads back into his own side of their room to get himself ready. 

    Running his fingers through his hair, damp after a shower, the pink highlights he had last time they were here are gone except for the slightest hint, although that could just be a trick of the light. 

    He throws on whatever clothes are easiest to find in his suitcase, always a t-shirt, a well-worn pair of jeans and the light jacket that’s the only thing that consistently gets hung up in his closet. 

    Yeah. He’s very creative in his wardrobe choices. He knows. 

    It’s one of Biana’s favourite conversation topics. 

    Having nothing else to keep himself busy short of digging a book out, Fitz lies on his bed, staring at the ceiling and softly kicks his dangling legs so he has something to think about while Biana is still getting aerself presentable. 

    Ae doesn’t take too long; not even long enough for Fitz’s knee to start wailing in protest at the repetitive motion. Which is honestly surprising. 

    Who would’ve thought his knee would have a good day today? Not Fitz, that’s for sure. 

    Usually it’s already screaming when he wakes up. But considering that when he woke up he was thinking about Dex--. 

    No, you aren’t finishing that thought. You can’t afford to finish that thought. You aren’t going to look daft today. 

    Or any other day for that matter. 

    One breakfast and a hover ride later, and Biana’s figured out what Fitz has been planning for the past couple of weeks as ae takes in the vaguely familiar market. 

    “Fitz…what did you do?” ae demands. 

    “You’ve been talking to Sophie enough, I thought you might want to see him.”

     Ae looks like ae wants to jump up and down. “Does he know?”

    “Nope. Now go find your boyfriend. I’ll be right behind you but you’re gonna…” Fitz trails off as Biana melts into the crowd and he tries to follow aer but ends up pulling up the map on his portscreen. 

    Ae is so good at disappearing, it doesn’t make sense. So he has to find other ways to keep up with aer. 

    And, sure enough, he nearly walks into aer, frozen. A hundred metres away from Sophie and Dex’s booth. 

    Dex is talking to some client, probably about something technical because xe’s talking with xor hands. A soft smile is playing on xor lips, but not enough to show xor dimples.

    Fitz feels a rush of disappointment at that as he registers his heart fluttering out of his chest. 

     “What are you waiting for?” he asks as he sees Sophie’s blond hair peek out from behind a shelf. 

    “I--I don’t know,” ae answers, voice shaking. 

    “Please don’t tell me that you’re gonna send him a vidlink and play the game of ‘guess where I am today.’ And the answer is San Diego, looking at your market stall, but I’m too gay to talk to you if it isn’t through a screen.”

    “How many times do I have to tell you that Sophie is transmasc?”

    “You use neopronouns. There’s some queer shit going on here pretty much no matter what.” 

    Biana crosses aer arms. “You aren’t allowed to be right.”

    “For my reward, you’re gonna go talk to Sophie. Dex and I planned this surprise for you two.”

    “Wait, you got Dex involved in this?”

    “Yeah. I had to make sure Sophie’d be here when I managed to get you here. It was a very elaborate plan.” 

    Biana rolls aer eyes. “Fine.” Ae raises aer voice. “Sophie!”

    He whips around and runs up to aer. 

    What follows is not something that Fitz wants to watch as it involves a lot of making out and he’s going to do his absolute best to block that. 

    Dex’s client leaves after a long moment, and Fitz chooses the lesser of two evils as he wanders over to talk to xem. 

    “So, how’ve you been?” he asks, voice cracking. 

    “Alright. How about you?” Dex has turned xor entire focus to the gadget in front of xem. Fitz doesn’t know what it is exactly, but the front kind of looks like it could be an old second-era clock before everything went digital. And it has a bird attached for some reason. 

    “I’m good. Do you mind if I borrow this chair?”

    “Not at all. I’ve got another one in the back if you decide to run away with it.”

    “Don’t give me ideas.” Fitz smiles. 

    “I may run after you with this chair I’m sitting on if you try to steal my chair.”

    “Challenge accepted.”

    Dex turns to him, smiling, revealing those adorable dimples. “Just don’t hurt yourself. I’m not paying for your medical bills.”

    “If anyone’s paying for my medical bills, it’s gonna be my father. He’s a wanker, and that’s all the breath I want to waste on him today.”

    “That good?”

    “Yep. Sometimes, just for fun, I imagine what it’d be like if I found out that he isn’t actually my dad. Like Alvar. Then I remember he’s even more of a wanker. He was one of Gisela’s thaumaturds right up until the very end. Supposedly died when Keefe stormed Artemisia Palace, although I don’t know if I believe that.  

    “Luna sounds like a fun place.”

    “Oh, it is.” Fitz pauses, cleaning the sarcasm from his tone. “It doesn’t matter if you’re aristocracy or living in the outer sectors, it’s a disgusting mess, and the only reason we didn’t realise that sooner is because the government was so determined to retain their power, the only source of outside information we got was heavily edited to serve their agendas.”

    “I doubt Earthen resentment towards Lunars because of their--your--gifts helped.”

    “And then you Earthens just go and invent a thing that makes our gift useless. Good job. Not all of us are like Gisela who have an addiction to using our glamours.” 

    “You expect me to believe all of this,” Dex gestures vaguely to Fitz, “is natural?”

    “...yeah?”

    “Oh, come on. Have you seen how you look? You’ve been on Earth for what? Like six months now. I’m pretty sure you’ve encountered a mirror in that time. They’re fairly common.”

    “Yes, I have, in fact, seen a mirror. You want me to prove it? Give me something shiny and you can compare my reflection to the real thing. Or take a picture. I don’t really care.”

    When Dex sees the opportunity to take a selfie, xe does, catching Sophie and Biana in the background as a nice piece of blackmail if it’s ever needed. Doubtful, but good to keep in mind. 

    Instead of making xem less defensive, this just seems to make xem angrier, and Fitz can’t figure out why. 

    He decides it isn’t worth the extra time it’ll take to puzzle it out, and chooses to ask about Dex’s new project. 

    Most of the time is spent observing Dex, talking with xor hands and saying words that have no real meaning, but seeing the excitement in xor eyes is more than enough to keep him entertained. 

    Xe also has really pronounced freckles across xor cheeks, much more so than the light smattering that were present in the winter, and Fitz is kind of tempted to count them all. 

    There’s so many he’d be there for hours. 

    And, he is. But he keeps getting distracted by some new observation--like xor laugh or the way the light illuminates Dex’s soft curls, giving them a golden glow--and then he loses count and has to restart. 

    And that doesn’t even begin to consider accidental recounting. 

    Dex swears, catching Fitz off guard. He looks up to find xem watching Sophie and Biana talking to a middle-aged woman. 

    “What?”

    “Sophie’s just introducing Biana to his mother. There’s no way that can go badly.”

    “Why? Is she enbyphobic or something?”

    “No. Stars, no. I’m sitting right here and I’m fine. I mean yeah occasionally she’s a little you know with gnc people or some of the less common labels. But come on how can introducing your partner to your mom go well? And then Uncle Grady’s gonna have to give aer the whole threatening dad speech.”

    “Okay, so we don’t have to worry that much. Wait--Uncle?”

    “Yeah, Fosboss over there is my cousin.” Dex says, gesturing vaguely to his direction. 

    “Why didn’t I know this?”

    “I don’t know. Probably because I was too busy cursing you out last time we saw each other. By the way, I am sorry about that--.”

    “Don’t be sorry. I was an arse and I deserved everything you gave me and probably more. The internalized queerphobia from, you guessed it, my father, is taking some time to unravel and sometimes I can be a little--.” Fitz trails off, not knowing the right word. 

    “Yeah.” Dex finishes. 

    “I’m trying to be better. I can’t promise it’ll be perfect. But better. I’m trying to not get into fistfights in the middle of a market because I’m being transphobic.”

    “That’s a good goal to have. A tad bit specific. But good.”

    “So, yeah. I’m sorry for that whole mess.”

    “Hey, as long as you’re trying, I’ll try to be less abrasive,” Dex says, blindly fishing for some tool. “Stars. I hate to ask, but can you look around in the back for a Phillips screwdriver?”

    “Sure. That’s the one with the plus sign, right?” Fitz asks, standing up.

    “Yep.” Xe sounds surprised at the fact that he knew that. 

    The shelves in the back are filled with spare parts and half-finished projects with wires sticking out, so much so Fitz doesn’t really know how they all manage to not avalanche. 

    “If anything breaks, it’s not my fault,” he says, scanning shelf by shelf with no luck. 

    “Try checking my bag. I’m the kind of person that carries these things around with me.”

    Fitz takes a second to locate the grease-stained bag with well-worn rainbow, gay toothpaste flag, and nonbinary flag pins. He kind of expected that, but seeing actual proof that Dex is, in fact, not cisallohet still catches him slightly off guard for some reason. Opening the smallest pocket, he finds a flathead screwdriver. Still looking through xor bag in case there’s a Phillips one too, he says, “You’ve got the wrong one.”

    “Eh, it’s worth a shot.” Xe replies, so Fitz places it into xor outstretched hand, and it does in fact turn the screw. “It’s all fun and games until you need like seven different sizes of each and they all just go missing one by one. I think my siblings eat them for fun.”

    Fitz laughs, noticing Biana walking up to them. 

    “Sophie’s mom invited me to his place for dinner. You wanna come with?” 

    Fitz glances over towards Dex. “I know where he lives if ae gets kidnapped,” xe says. 

    “I’ll let you eat dinner with your boyfriend’s family without dragging me around,” Fitz allows. “Just remember to get back home before midnight. I don’t need to worry about where you are.”

    Biana pumps aer fist, yelling, “Thank you!” behind aer as ae runs back over to Sophie.

    “Wait, Biana!” Dex tries to call aer back but ae’s already gone.

    “What? I can go talk to aer.”

    “Nah. Sit down. I’ll just text Sophie and then he won’t be looking at his phone and then I’ll be the one blamed for his rib damage because for some reason we haven’t figured out how to make a binder you can wear twenty-four hours out of the day.”

    “This is when ond would half-jokingly say that’s transphobic, right?”

    “Yep. You’re learning quickly, I see. Yes, you must call all minor annoyances somethingphobic. It seems to even be agreed upon no matter where you’re from.”

    “That’s actually really interesting. That means it probably predates the Lunar Monarchy, even if most of the actual records of queerness prior to the Third Era were destroyed during the fourth world war.”

    “You’ve done your queer history. Well, lack thereof. Nice.” Dex flashes xor dimples again, and Fitz has to sit down to keep his knees from turning to complete jelly. 

    “Except Oscar Wilde. Some copies of his books somehow survived. And Biana taught me that he was gay. And I think ae learned it from Sophie so you probably already knew that.”

    “Yes I did. Although my personal favourite gay person in history has to be Alan Turing. Did a lot of stuff with computers.”

    “So…basically just you?”

    “Well, he was British and, my stars, he was hot. Somehow a picture of him survived and, like, I may be mad about many things, but that doesn’t have to be added to the list. So not quite the exact same.” Dex pauses, glancing at Fitz. “Kinda looked like you now that I’m thinking about it.”

    It takes agonizingly long for Fitz’s mind to actually process that. Does that mean xe thinks I’m attractive?

    What’s it to you?

    Wait, is that what xe was alluding to when xe brought up Lunar glamours? And not very subtly at all. 

    Again, why do you care? It’s not like you like xem.

    …Shit. That would explain more of what I’ve been experiencing recently than I’d like to admit. 

    It’s kind of embarrassing it took this long to figure that out. 

    He spends the next few hours talking with Dex, not really hearing anything xe says, more occupied with this new revelation he’s trying to find any evidence against before helping xem pack up xor stall for the evening and reminding xem to tell Sophie that his binding time is up. 

    Dex would’ve remembered, as xe had an alarm on xor port set, but Fitz didn’t realise that when he committed it to his long term memory storage. 

    When Dex hands him a business card with his port number on it, xor finger just barely brushes his own, sending a flurry of sparks up his arm like he just got electrocuted. 

    Fitz does his best to act like he’s completely fine and his heart isn’t pounding right now. 

    As he says goodbye and leaves, he ignores the disappointment, the desire to stay and keep talking to xem, growing with each step. 

    By the time he’s on the hover, he’s made up his mind to talk to Keefe. It has experience in this, and that’s exactly what he needs right now. Also, it’s very unlikely to get back to Dex in the event that this is what he thinks it is. 

    He likes Dex. And trying to deny that isn’t going to work. Not when he can’t breathe in xor presence. 

    Maybe you’re allergic to xem. 

    Oh, come on, Fitz. If xe was a girl, you wouldn’t even have a second thought about it. 

    Instead of continuing with that train of thought, Fitz sends a comm to Keefe. Girl, help.

    It must be on its port, as it replies immediately. Wotchu need?

     I need to talk to you whenever you have a second.

    Ooh sounds fun, does now work?

    I wasn’t expecting you to respond immediately so I’m gonna need ten minutes. I’m on a hover back to our hotel right now. 

    And where might this hotel be this time?

    San Diego. I thought Biana might like seeing aer boyfriend here so I surprised both of them. We were supposed to be in Alaska but eh this was more important. 

    A typing bubble follows for a very long, and Keefe is probably retyping its answer several times. And you didn’t tell me???

    I couldn’t have you tell Biana, now could I?

    You don’t trust me???

    Not that much, no. 

    Remind me, why am I helping you then?

    I don’t know.

    The hover parks, and Fitz walks up to his hotel room about as fast as he can without running and collapses on his bed as he sends Keefe a vidlink. 

    “Hey, dude,” Fitz says, mushed into his pillows. 

    “Hey yourself. What do you need?”

    “Is your boyfriend in the room?”

    “You need Tammy?”

    “No, I want to make sure the Emperor of the freaking Eastern Commonwealth doesn't hold a press conference just to tell people this.”

    “Depends on what it is,” Tam says from offscreen.

    “It’s not a matter of national security. It’s straightn’t. Now go away and let me talk to Keefe.”

    “Just let me get some pants on.” Tam replies. 

    Fitz counts to thirty-six before he hears a door shut, and Keefe says, “Cmon, Fitzy. Talk to me.”

    “As long as you promise to not tell anyone. Especially not Biana.”

    “Fine,” it groans. 

    “So, well, I met this guy--actually, xe uses xe/xem pronouns and presents masc, so I’ll probably be atrocious with gendered terms like that.”

   “You could just use xyr name.”

    “First of all, the possessive form is xor according to Sophie because xe’s a computer nerd and it’s some…thing he didn’t bother to pay attention to, I don’t know. And second, I’m not telling you xor name. You’ll look xem up and I don’t need you to like a post from two years ago.”

    “Then you have to tell me about xem.”

    “Xe’s, like, really cute. Xe has these adorable dimples, and super pretty periwinkle eyes, and fluffy strawberry blond hair, and oh the freckles, and xe’s causing bi thoughts and I don’t like it. Make it stop.”

    “Fitzy. Do we really have to get into the internalized homophobia already? There’s no way to make it stop. Have fun with your new bisexuality.”

    Fitz swears. “Alright. How do I ignore it?”

    “Eh, you’ll probably forget xe exists in a couple of weeks.”

    “Yeah, about that…xe knows Sophie so I have no way to escape while he and Biana are still dating. Yay me.”

    “Ooh, I could probably track xem down.”

   “Keefe, please. I just--what do I do?”

    “You’ve got yourself two options. First, you could be the perfect little boy your father wants you to be and ignore all of this. Maybe find yourself a girlfriend to distract yourself. Option two. Does xe like you?”

    “I think so…? Xe mentioned this second-era computer guy named Alan Turing and said he was hot and then said I kinda look like him.”

    “Oh my stars, Fitz. Xe is totally into you. For your sanity and mine, please just go ask xem out. I don’t care how impromptu the date is, just go already. Go. Now.”

    “But what would my dad think?”

    “Trust me, you may still be the favourite, but it’s not much of a competition. And you’re still speaking to Biana. I’m willing to bet you two haven’t talked in days. If not weeks.”

    “I don’t want to damage out relationship even further--”

    “Alden can go fuck himself. Or get Quinlin to do it for him. I don’t really care. He’s the cause of all your problems, Fitzy.”

    “I’m kind of surprised you didn’t use the Lunar throne to launch him into orbit.” Fitz groans. 

    “Eh, you would be mad at me for like five minutes which isn’t worth it. Also that’s what Auntie Dearest would’ve done. At least I don't have to hear him complain in the outer sectors.” 

    “Yeah, he’s still mad about that. And he thinks because I know you I could pull some strings and bring him back to Artemisia.”

    Keefe snorts. “That’s hilarious. The entire reason why he’s even out there is because I know you.” 

    “I thought you said you needed people out there and his name happened to come up.”

    “That’s what we here in politics call a lie. He has a problem with his monarch because it's willing to beat him with a frying pan if given the opportunity and I didn’t appreciate that so we send him away. I have zero object permanence anyway.”

    “Why do I expect anything less?”

    “I honestly can’t answer that for you, Fitzy.” Keefe pauses for a second. “So, did we cover what we needed to cover today or are you still under the impression that I will not be tracking your gay awakening down because I may already have if xor name is Dex?”

    “Keefe!” Fitz screeches, trying and failing to reach through the screen and rip Keefe’s second port out of its hands. 

    “Oh my stars you weren’t kidding about how cute xe is. Aces, you do have good taste. If you don’t ask xem out I’m gonna put the polyamory to work and I’m gonna do it for you.”

    “You’ve never even met xem!”

    “And?”

    “That doesn’t bother you?”

    “No. So are we feeling better or do I have to keep threatening you?” 

    “Do you want to go back to your boyfriend or do you want my honest answer?” Fitz sighs.

    “I think that was your honest answer.” Keefe swallows painfully. “Ultimately, whether or not you act on this crush is up to you. I can’t tell you it’ll be easy either way. There are times it hasn’t been for me. But, I can tell you that I don’t regret my decision, even with the amount of public attention it’s brought. Even when Tam is being an arse who is more than likely listening to this whole conversation. But, I, personally, don’t think locking a part of me away is worth it, no matter what bigots think. You are a different person than I am so you might want to take some time and think.”

    “But how do you know if you’re pan or bi or poly or omni?” Fitz asks, voice barely a whisper. 

    “Ooh, someone’s been doing his research. Good. Honestly if you’re omni or poly no straight people will ever know what you’re talking about, if you’re pan, people will accuse you of being biphobic, and if you’re bi, people will accuse you of being panphobic and/or enbyphobic because bi means two and all that bullshit. Or you could always just stay unlabeled. So just pick the flag you like.”

    Fitz raises his head just enough to raise an eyebrow at Keefe. 

    “That’s how I picked pan. And then gender, derogatory, decided to match up with that so I can beat queerphobes with multiple frying pans at once. And don’t go thinking you’re superior for still being cis because when you least expect it, the gender crisis will hit. But that’s an issue for a different day.”

    “Great. This isn’t enough?”

    “For today it is. Keep me updated if you’d like. Both on the m-spec and your relationship with Dex. I need to know these things. Send me a comm if you need more assistance.”

    “Okay. Bye, Keefe. Go run your country.”

    “I have advisors. I don’t have to do shit. Bye, Fitzy. I hope you get this figured out. I need to talk about hot guys I’m obsessing over with my best friend, dude.”

    Fitz smiles slightly as Keefe exits the vidlink, leaving him alone with his thoughts. 

    His smile falls from his face.

    He tries to pull up King Lear and stop thinking, the exact opposite of what Keefe suggested, he remembers that Shakespeare wrote several sonnets to an unnamed man. Yep, not even Shakespeare can escape the clutches of cisn’t-ness. 

    And neither can Fitz, it seems. 

    So now he’s left with so many questions. 

    Let’s start with an easy one. He doesn’t particularly like the sound of m-spec. It has its purpose, sure. But it isn’t here. Not poly and not omni. He certainly doesn’t have the energy to define either of those every single time. 

    Bi? Why not? That’ll work unless more information becomes available. Ace purple might look better on the flag but it’s not bad as it stands. 

    Let’s go with that. 

    Now, how is his bi ass going to deal with the fact that he is very quickly developing a crush on Dex and will continue to act like this around xem for an undisclosed amount of time? 

    Maybe that doesn’t have to be today’s problem. Planning a first date just sounds…exhausting. 

    That’s when he realises he answered the big question without meaning to. He’s gonna ask xem out. Just as soon as he figures out how he’s gonna do that.

    And mentally writes the whole script of how that’ll go. 

    That’s apparently enough for his mind to calm down enough for him to get some sleep, and over the next few days, Fitz tries to plan the perfect date despite not knowing the area well enough to find anything without the use of a GPS app he’s still trying to learn how to use. 

    Three days later and still without a plan, Fitz makes a deal with himself that whenever Biana asks when they’re gonna leave, that’s when he’s gonna do it, whether or not he’s actually ready. Because he’d never be ready if given the chance. 

    Day four, Fitz goes to the beach so Biana doesn’t get suspicious of all the time he’s been spending in their room. Although ae is gone as much as ae can be so it doesn’t really matter. 

    When they’ve been there exactly a week, Biana leaves a sticky note under the shared door between their rooms when ae gets up. When Fitz notices it, ae’s long gone.

    Hey Mr. Control Freak. When are you gonna be dragging us back to Luna? the note says. 

    Fitz swears. Today’s the day and just like he expected, he’s nowhere near prepared for this. 

    His chest tightens just thinking about it. 

    To calm himself down, he busies himself by taking a shower--which was not a good idea in the slightest, shower thoughts are even more potent than normal thoughts--and taking as long as he possibly can to get dressed. 

    Day five’s procrastination project involved him re dying his hair back to pink, so showering with some of the pigments still dissolving was also interesting. But it was nice to see it pink again. Apparently he’d gotten more used to it than he thought. 

    With no more ways left to waste time, it’s a little past twelve thirty when he heads out to the hover and almost one when he arrives at the market. 

    He’s tempted to wander around all of the stalls to waste more time, but the steadily growing pit of anxiety gnawing at his stomach discourages this idea. 

    So he walks up, knees shaking, to Dex’s booth, a surprisingly familiar path, to find xem, or rather xor bright strawberry blond hair, hunched over, working on some project. 

    “Should I break my port or am I allowed to talk to you without a business agreement in place?” Fitz’s voice cracks. 

    Dex, startled, whips xor head up and takes a full three seconds to process. “Please don’t give me more work. I have enough already.” Xe pulls the chair sitting next to xem out.

    Fitz takes this as a sign that he can sit next to xem, and while getting closer to xem might excite the butterflies in his stomach, it’s better than falling over from how wobbly his knees have become, even more than usual. 

    “What are you doing here?” xe asks, going back to xor project. 

     Another day, Fitz might’ve asked about what it is. But not today. 

    “You assume I can string words together right now?”

    “That bad? Feel free to ramble about anything if you’d like. Or just sit there. I’ll be here losing my mind if you need me.”

    “This is gonna sound weird until you have all the context but honestly there’s no way I can figure out to avoid it and also provide said context.”

    “So you want me to keep my commentary to a minimum? Got it.”

    “Last week when I was looking for your screwdriver, I saw a couple pride pins on your bag and--”

    “You better not be homophobic today. I don’t have the energy for that.” xe interrupts.

    “No, nothing like that. The exact opposite of that.”

    Fitz takes a breath, heart pounding. 

    Dex looks at him, waiting for confirmation of what he just implied. 

    “So, I’d like to say thanks for breaking my brain and apparently I’m bi now. Well, technically, I’m still unsure where I fit under the m-spec category but I don’t like m-spec so I picked one and I’m seeing how it goes.”

    Xe smiles, showing off those adorable dimples. 

    “So, as a newly not-yet-certified bi disaster, I need some help. There’s this cute guy I really want to ask out but I don’t know this area, like, at all. So do you have any recommendations for a first date?”

     Dex’s face falls. “Do you have any ideas of what he likes? Maybe start there.”

    “We’ve only spoken like three times so I mean there’s not a whole lot for me to go on. I was hoping you just knew of a casual restaurant kinda thing where, ideally, I would also not be seen in public out of my closet because I am going to stay in here as long as humanly possible.”

    “When in doubt, just ask him out for coffee.” Dex says. “You look like you haven’t slept in days.”

    “Do you have a personal favourite coffee shop?”

    “Yeah. It’s called bribing Sophie to bring me caffeine at three in the morning because neither of us know how to sleep anymore. And he makes it at home so I really can’t help you out with that one.”

    “Fine then, GPS app it is.” Fitz takes a second looking over the different options it’s brought up in a mile radius before asking, “Have you heard anything about The Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf?”

    “I’ve seen the building if that’s what you’re asking. Try checking the reviews on the place if you want an opinion on whether or not it tastes like dirty dishwater.”

    Fitz scrolls down on the page to find reviews he didn’t know were provided, and figures four and a half stars is pretty good. 

    “Dex, thanks for your help. Just one more crazy question.”

    “Shoot.” 

    “I know your sleep schedule is nonexistent, but is there such a thing as coffee too late in the day for you?”

    “Nope. I just end up not sleeping. It’s such a healthy cycle.”

    Fitz takes a breath, bracing himself for what he’s about to ask. “Do you think we could maybe stop over there after you close up shop this afternoon?”

    “Like, as a trial run before bringing the guy you like there?” Dex asks, causing Fitz to very narrowly avoid facepalming at xor obliviousness. 

    “More like a date while I’m bringing the guy I like there.”

    Dex just looks at him, redder than a tomato, mouthing a string swear words and blinking. “I--uh--sure, sure. We usually close up around four if that works for you.”

    “Yep, I’ll be wandering around until then if you don’t mind.”

    “Not at all.” 

    The next two hours simultaneously take seven seconds and seven years. 

    Fitz comes back to Dex’s booth, rambling, “I know it’s early but I didn’t want to be late and I’m pretty sure you said around four and three forty-five is around four so if you want me to help with anything just let me know.”

    Dex smiles. “I make my own rules of when we close so give me just a moment for me to pack up and close it up. Also can you remind Sophie about his binder? I need more arms.”

    Fitz sends Sophie that comm as xe loads xor bag almost to the point of breaking, and he doesn’t know how xe can even pick it up as xe closes the roll down door. “I trust you know where we’re going because I certainly don’t.”

    “I’ve got the route mapped out right now. It’s not too far away so you won’t have to carry that bag around too much. I could take it if you’d like.”

    “It’s not as bad as it looks and I like to keep it with me. I don’t even know why. It’d be perfectly secure in the booth and I’d be walking past it back home anyway. It’s fine.”

    “Alright,” Fitz says, and they go back to walking in near silence. When they arrive, he orders first--a pure, what they call decaf for whatever reason because he’d like to sleep sometime this week, cookies and cream basically coffee milkshake--because he already found the link to the menu, and Dex orders an iced coffee and a blueberry muffin.

    The barista android places this into the system, and it’s ready in under a minute. It’s a telepathic battle to decide who pays, but somehow Fitz wins and the cashier android scans his id chip. 

    They find a nice table in the corner and try to ignore the three other people in there. 

    “So, what now?” Fitz asks. 

    “You were the one that asked me out, you really should’ve had a plan,” Dex replies, smiling. 

    “I literally had you plan this for me, do you really think I would have a plan?” 

    “Okay, that’s a fair point.” Dex concedes. “I think I remember Biana saying something about you liking second-era books. Are you reading anything good right now?”

    “I don’t know how you’d have enough free time to read but I’m in the middle of King Lear. By Shakespeare. You may or may not have heard of him. Someone’s eyes just got ripped out of his head so that was interesting.”

    “Spoiler alert.” Dex smiles, adding, “I remember when Sophie had to read Romeo and Juliet for class like two or three years ago. All I remember is that he was convinced Mercutio and Tybalt would’ve made a better romance arc.”

   “I could write that. I can string words together sometimes.”

    “And you don’t even have to do any worldbuilding. And it’s so ingrained into society that as long as you can spell Mercutio a lot of people are going to understand what you’re doing.”

    “I could just rename both of them. Then I don’t have to spell. Because I can’t spell.”

    “But then it’s not in its original universe and then you have to do worldbuilding which is annoying at best.”

    “Yeah, I guess. It sounds like you’ve written things before.”

    “I was the kind of kid who had elaborate story ideas and then wrote a couple hundred words before giving up.”

    “Are you gonna pitch these story ideas to me one day?”

    “Maybe if you’re lucky.”

    Fitz smiles. “Well, I was already lucky enough to break my wireless charger so I had to find someone to fix it and my mechanic was pretty cute.”

    Dex beams amusedly, revealing xor dimples once again. Fitz will never get tired of that smile. “I’m not sure if that was supposed to be sweet or cheesy but I’m gonna pick the former whether or not that was your intention.”

    “It was, I’m just apparently very cheesy. At least according to Biana, that is.”

    “I might be even worse. Maybe we can manage to scare aer away from our cheese alone.” 

    “Or, you know, just let aer duct tape aerself to Sophie. That would work too.”    

    “Until Uncle Grady finds out and Biana is never seen again. We don’t ask what happened to aer. Ae no longer exists.”

    Fitz laughs. “Has this happened with Sophie’s previous partners? Is that why he was single?”

    “I don’t know if Uncle Grady has actually lived up to his threats, but I do have the scary dad speech burned into my memory from seventh grade when it was a whole mess and I was convinced I liked Sophie.”

    “I thought Sophie was your cousin.”

    “Hence why I call it a whole mess.” Dex says seriously before breaking down into laughter. “Also, he’s only my cousin in a legal sense. He’s adopted. We don’t live in Alabama, after all. You should’ve seen your face.”

    “You’re an idiot, you know that?” 

    “Yes, I am fully aware of that, but you believed me. Who’s the real idiot here?”

    “All of us in this café for contributing to capitalist greed.” 

    Dex smiles, almost laughing. “One day or another I’m gonna start my own country. How many citizens does that take? I know a religion needs ten people but I don’t remember that one.”

    “Do I look like I know the answer to that?”

    “No, but you do have a port and a search engine.” Xe pauses, typing on xor port. “Never mind, all I need is a permanent population. And some land and a government. That actually doesn’t sound that difficult.”

    “Until the Earthen Union decides that isn’t allowed and declares war on you.”

    “And then I break their streak of peace. I still win.”

    “If you didn’t have so many projects already I would almost be worried about a new tyrannical dictator taking over the world.” 

    Dex snorts. “I’d make it an oligarchy at the very least. Sophie can rule with me. And maybe you and Biana if you’re nice.”

    “I could probably persuade Monarch Keefe and Emperor Tam to join your new country if you wanted. Well, I can persuade Keefe and then it’d blackmail Tam but whatever works.”

    “Also I would have to legalize murder of queerphobes. And arson.”

    “Should I ask why you’re allowing people to set things on fire?” Fitz asks. 

    “Arson should be a fundamental human right, that’s why. Burn everything to the ground. It’s also fun and I sound like a lunatic right now.”

    “You do realise the word lunatic does carry the implication that Lunars are all crazy, right? We don’t all have Lunar sickness.”

    “I may have a sample size of two, but you’re crazy for going out with me and Biana is  just…I mean, have you listened to any of aer conversations with Sophie?”

    “I’m not crazy. You’re cute and I am fully aware that my father isn’t going to be happy with my life’s decisions, but I don’t care. I may be high on sugar right now, but I really just do not care.”

    Fitz looks at Dex. “You don’t believe me.”

    “Of course I don’t. You’re fucking gorgeous and I’m just here, your average Earthen. You are miles out of my league.”

    “Dex, listen to me. I’ve been travelling all around the Earth for the past six-ish months. I’ve met so many people. But here I am. On a date with you. You. The one and only Dex I-don’t-know-your-last-name. And, yeah, you’re probably going to argue that I only remember you because we almost got into a fistfight in the middle of a street or that I kept being reminded of you every night when Biana and Sophie were talking. But just because there are reasons behind them, that doesn’t mean my decisions aren’t my decisions.”

    Fitz reaches for Dex’s hand, gently holding it in his own amid the lightning storm shocking its way up his arm. 

    “Also you get the added bonus of making me lose my mind. Thanks for the bi awakening.”

    Dex smiles hesitantly. 

    “So, do you have any favourite places we could stop at when the barista droid kicks us out?” Fitz asks, eyeing them. 

    “No. I’m a mechanic. I don’t go outside. You should’ve known that before getting into this.”

    “I did.” Fitz smiles. “But I figured it would be worth a shot. Anyway, I’ve found a little spot you might like. Assuming you’ve got a little more time before you have to get back to work.”

    “Trust me, if given the slightest chance to procrastinate, I will. Lead the way, Wonderboy.”

    Fitz smiles, and leading xem by the hand, he takes xem via hover to a small beach he found while trying to avoid thinking about date ideas just in time to watch the sunset. 

    He isn’t exactly sure when it got so late, but talking with Dex somehow makes hours speed by like seconds while each moment begs to be held longer.

    Fitz sees the shadow of Luna, just past new moon, appear near the horizon, and he flinches involuntarily at the reminder of what his father will think when he finds out. 

    But for now, all that matters is Dex. And xor adorable dimples. Never forget those. 

[copias-thrall]

How would Mary goore react to hurting someone he genuinely cares about? I absolutely Love your writing!💕

Hello, nonny! Thank you, I love this ask!

This was going to be  alist, but it got away from me! 😅 

Enjoy 😘 

It wasn’t anything big.

Just a few of Mary’s favorite beers (the craft kind—not the shitty beer he drank on his shoestring budget), some of that chronic shit you’d scored and have been saving for a special occasion, and a VHS box set of horror movie classics.

***

Mary comes in and out of your life at will, and that was something you accepted—knowing he was As Is or not at all. And honestly—no, really—you liked that. You had your own shit going on, and being Mary’s expected caregiver was NOT something you wanted to add to that list.

(If someone else wanted to try to tame him and pick up after him, well…kudos to them. Less work for you.)

Mary showed up on your pivotal days and he rubbed your feet and always invited you out to trivia. You'd held him when he was coming down from a bad trip and listened to his grievances and gave him a place to stay when he was persona non grata at his own. And in a way, that made you always feel like #1 in Mary’s world…and that was good enough for you.

***

A few months ago, Mary had been lying on your couch, picking the label off his beer bottle.

“I’m gonna be away for a bit,” he’d said.

“Oh?” you’d responded as you’d mashed the controls on your gaming controller.

“Yeah. I mean, I’ll be around…but I got some shit going on.”

You’d paused your game.

“Bad shit?”

He’d waved you off.

“Neg. Just tryna get myself out there. Signed up for open mics and shit.”

He’d shifted, his long legs receding from around you and folding under him.

“So, like…I got my job at the bowling alley…but nights and weekends are kinda shot.”

You’d tried not to let the disappointment show on your face. You supported Mary’s dreams, and that meant not making an issue that he was finally trying to do something about them.

This wasn’t against you. It was for him.

When you’d taken too long to respond, his face had scrunched.

“But if you want—”

“It’s fine, Mare,” you’d said as you’d made yourself smile. “This is important to you, so it’s important to me.”

You’d unpaused your game.

“Just don’t expect me to not beat this game without you.”

He’d grabbed the controller out of your hands with a snarl, causing you to cry out when you died.

“Fuck the game.” His hand had fisted your shirt. “Give me a night to remember.”

You had. Twice.

***

Mary had texted you occasionally over the next few weeks—a few memes, a few drunken key-smashes, a dick pic, and 2 grainy videos of his performances for critique—but such contact was sporadic, and you’d never seen him in real-time. 

He’d blown in one night, five weeks in, with a box of pizza just as you'd been heading out to meet your crew. When you’d told him you’d made plans, he’d looked so crestfallen that you’d caved and canceled on them.

While he’d been there, he’d given you a date in 3 weeks.

“That Saturday I have nowhere to be,” he’d said as he’d chewed. “I can spend the whole day with you.”

You’d been careful not to seem too eager.

“Oh yeah? Should I plan shit?”

He’d crammed the whole crust into his mouth and had given you a doughy grin.

“Why ’’ya think I told you?”

You didn’t know what you’d expected, but when he’d had to bounce 90min later, you were still surprised. (That was hardly enough time to digest!)

“Sorry,” he’d winced. “I gotta be on a bus in 45min.”

He’d left, and you’d been too embarrassed to join your friends who were only just going to the second bar.

Having fun with your man ;) ? one of your friends had texted.

What do you think? You’d texted back before changing into your pjs and turning on Netflix.

***

So maybe you were low-key excited about your day with Mary.

Perhaps you’d spent those 3 weeks figuring out the perfect date—something that said, “I missed you,” without saying “But in a clingy way.”

Beer and horror were two things the both of you were totally into, and you knew he’d be exhausted, so it seemed perfect. You’d bought the boxed set off of eBay and splurged for expedited shipping; you’d borrowed your brother’s old dual TV/VCR from his college days; and you’d forgone your weekly Chinese takeout for the craft beer funds. (And if things got steamy, well…even better.) 

***

A few days before The Date, you’d run into Mary on the bus. You were coming home from a shift, and he was going to his.

He’d brightened and waved you over—as if you weren’t already on your way—and you’d plopped down beside him with a tired grin. You’d told him of the latest entitled asshole, and he’d showed you another clip of him on guitar.

Before your stop had come up, you’d tentatively placed your hand over his.

“We still on for Saturday?”

He’d blinked at you a few moments before grinning.

“Yeah.”

“Should I plan a whole day for us, then?”

His arm had crept around your shoulders before pulling you into him to kiss your temple.

“Yeah, why not.”

***

That morning, you wake up happy. 

Mary will be over soon.

You roll over and grab your phone.

When should I expect you? :-* 

It takes him an hour to respond. You aren’t surprised—Mary isn’t known for being a morning person—so when your phone dings, you grab it up excitedly.

An excitement that dies when you read his text. And reread. And re-reread.

not 2day 

goin upste 2 show 

You blink.

What show? Didn’t we confirm? 

yeah. got me thinkin 

why no show? 

so i chked 

i missed one 

gotta do it 

Rage blooms hot, then cold behind your eyes and down your cheeks.

But you said we had the whole day. I made plans. 

save em 

ths is impt 2 me 

We’ve had this planned for weeks. 

i thot u suprted me 

on a bus cnt tlk 

You send a few more irate texts, but he doesn’t respond, and you toss your phone across the room with a shout of frustration. You scrub the hot tears from your eyes before they can fall.

And…on paper, Mary isn’t wrong. Nothing you had planned won’t keep: movies, beer, takeout.

But…

It gives you a stark look at what you mean to Mary. He gave you this date and confirmed it. He knew you were making plans.

How long was he going to wait to tell you he wasn’t even in the city anymore?

You fight the urge to kick the VHS tapes across the floor, but you open the fridge and grab a beer. If Queen Elizabeth could have beer for breakfast, then it was good enough for you.

Once you’ve downed all eight, you move on to the jug of vodka you keep for cleaning.

When you empty only liquid from your stomach into the toilet, you grab your frozen fries out of the freezer. You roll a handful of the cold ones in your mouth as you wait for the others to crisp in the oven, and once you’ve consumed the cooked ones, you go right back to the vodka.

***

Opening your eyes the next morning is a mistake, so you take a few deep breaths and go back to sleep.

When you wake again, your heart is fluttering, your stomach turns, and it feels like there’s an ice pick behind one eye. Shuffling slowly, you make your way out to your kitchen where you take some painkillers, drink some pickle juice, and eat two slices of plain bread.

The sense that you did something awful stays with you, but you’re in no condition to find your phone and see what you’ve done. Instead, you go back to bed. It takes more deep breathing to settle yourself, but once you do fall asleep, you’re out for hours.

You don’t feel amazing when you swim to consciousness again, but you feel at least like a human being. 

Your phone is dead when you find it under the sink, and waiting the 5 or so minutes for it to charge feels like waiting to face the executioner.

It’s both better and worse than you expected.

You breathe a sigh of relief to see that there are no vague social media posts, and you didn’t drunk dial any of your friends, but…

The texts to and from Mary are ugly.

Apparently, you’d managed not to send him angry texts until he’d sent you another clip of his performing. But then the floodgates had opened.

You’d started with telling him you didn’t give a shit about the show, how he was an inconsiderate ass, and then you'd devolved into incomprehensible, typo-ridden texts that accused him of using you, that you were only something to do when he didn’t have anything better to do, that he was an entitled man-child and if he didn’t apologize, you were done.

Mary’s texts in response range from him being angry at your disregard, to heated retorts you were blowing this out of proportion (and he didn’t appreciate your “ad hominem” attacks), to a cool detachment that this wasn’t working over text and he’d finish this in person.

You put your head in your hands but are too dehydrated to cry.

***

Mary doesn’t text you again during his self-imposed time frame.

You don’t text him either, but that’s more out of self-preservation than pride. There’s no point exacerbating the situation…and you’re pretty sure there’s no coming back from this, so why speed up the inevitable?

The horror tapes taunt you every time you walk by them, and you wonder if you can return them (you can’t). You give the TV back to your brother, and when he asks you how it went, you plaster a smile on your face and say, “Great!” with forced enthusiasm you hope comes across as genuine.

The primo weed goes over to your friend’s house, and the two of you wax poetic all night about existential claptrap as you devour two cheese pizzas and a bag of bbq chips. You talk about Mary without talking about Mary, and you get a heartfelt, “Sorry, dude.”

You beat the video game anyway, but it’s mostly because you needed something to occupy your mind and less out of spite (though that’s there as well).

***

Despite waiting on tenterhooks to hear anything from Mary, you truly don’t really expect to. You know you’d been atrocious, even if it had been prompted by his careless disregard, and you know Mary isn’t really the kind of guy that troubles himself with relationships that are hard.

Not that you’re in a relationship.

So when there’s a knock on your door a week later and Mary’s behind it, you’re genuinely surprised.

You gape through the peephole in shock.

“Fuck. If you’re there, just let me in, ok?”

Fumbling with the chain, you unlock the door and crack it open.

“Mary?”

“You gonna let me in?” he rasps.

You shrug and step away from the door, and he shuffles inside. He looks around like you’ve changed anything (you haven’t), before turning around to face you.

You close the door and stare back.

He folds his arms. “Breaking up with someone over text is tacky.”

What you think is, So you’ve come to do it in person, but what you say is, “Can’t break up if you’re not together.”

He winces and runs his fingers through his hair. 

“Yeah…apparently I’ve ‘taken advantage' of you.”

This…isn’t what you’re expecting.

“I…what?”

“Can we sit down?”

You nod, and Mary sits rigidly on the edge of your couch. You curl up in the chair on the opposite side.

He rubs his palms down his greasy jeans before he speaks.

“I mean…you pissed me off, ok?”

You nod.

“But, like—you weren’t wrong, ok? I kinda knew that deep down, but I’m a dumbass, you know?”

You don’t nod.

“And I kinda bitched about the whole thing…but the resounding response was that I was the asshole.”

He angles his body toward you.

“I guess I’ve kinda been treating you like my best friend that I fuck sometimes.”

Your entire face flushes—you’d always thought you’d maybe ranked a little higher than that—and you duck your head so he can’t see the tears that you blink back.

There’s a swish of fabric, and you startle hard when Mary’s hand is at your chin. He jerks back with a Sorry.

“Shit—that’s not what I…” he blows out a breath and puts his hands behind his head before looking back up at you.

“But you aren’t, and…fuck this is harder than I thought.”

So this is it.

Waiting for him to do the deed is clearly going to be excruciating, so you take charge of this whole shit-show.

“I understand,” you say flatly.

“You do?”

“It’s ok, Mare-Mary. It’s my own fault for reading too much into it. I just…I saw what I wanted to see, I guess. I know you don’t need…” you look down into your lap, “…my shit in your life.

He makes a noise low in his throat, and then he’s squatting in front of you, his hot hands planting on your knees.

“But I want your shit in my life.”

You squint your eyes at him.

“But what I said…”

He grasps your hands in his.

“Pissed me off, yeah…cuz I wasn’t fucking thinking, ok? You’re like one of the only people who gives a crap about what’s important to me. And all I could see was you suddenly…not.”

Anger wells up in you again, and you yank away your hands.

“Weeks, Mary…weeks of you all over the tri-state area, and you thought I didn’t care because of one night?! A night you promised to me?”

He sits back on his heels. “I know…fuck. Ok? At the time, it just felt…like the show couldn’t be rescheduled. Our night could.”

Because you’re what he does when he’s bored.

You curl in on yourself.

“Shit.” He leans forward again. “Fuck, I’m sorry, ok? I’m fucking on my knees here.”

You blink at him. 

What? 

“Please, please don’t break—say we’re done.”

“What?”

“Look, we can go into my shitty fucking psychological profile on why I fuck around later…but right now I need you to know that I knew it was you before I fucking knew it was you.”

You uncurl.

“That…’what’ was me?”

He knees forward and presses your hands to his face.

“The one I wanna spend my free time with. The one whose opinion means the most. The one who was the first person I wanted to share all my good shit with. You’re the one I missed, and—after that awful fucking night—everything felt pointless because I knew I couldn’t come over and jam about it.”

“Mare—what are you saying?”

“I’m saying I’m a fucking dumbass. I’m saying I thought I was pissed at you, but I was pissed at myself for fucking it up.” He sighs. “I’m saying no fucking one was on my side and they all told me to get my shit together.”

He looks up at you with wide eyes, and for the first time, you can see how they’re outlined in red, his subtle crow’s feet more pronounced.

“So, you’re not done with me? I’m not…too much trouble?”

He shakes his head in disbelief. “What? Shit, no. I’m asking you to not be done with me. I’ll give you all the nights you want. Fucking text me, and my ass’ll be here posthaste.” He shifts up, and his thumb ghosts over your lips. “Anything to get you to give me that secret smile again.”

“Secret smile?” you ask while trying to perform the action.

Mary actually blushes.

“Uh…yeah. You get this…” he makes a motion across his face, “…when you’re giving it back to me.” His fingers shove back through his hair as he casts his eyes down. “You don’t give it to anyone else.” He rubs the back of his neck. “I’ve made a study of it.”

You’re a swirl of emotions. Mary’s apologized—has admitted he was wrong and has asked for…more—but you’re still hurt. And embarrassed.

But he’s looking up at you with wet, hopeful eyes.

“Do you…” you start carefully, “…do you know why I got so mad?”

That statement was clearly not what he was expecting, and he blinks at you a few times before nodding and looking down at the floor.

“I made a…uh, commitment…to you. And I treated it like it didn’t mean anything.”

He gives you a look like, Did I get it right? and that’s close enough—even if he’s missing some of the nuance.

You nod. “And I know I…wasn’t…the best.”

His face contorts, and your heart sinks.

“You…” he shakes his head. “You said some awful things…some hurtful shit—and it really got in my head.”

Mary gives you a complicated look.

“Shit that you’d been pissed about for a while.” He traces your knee. “Shit you could’ve said to me…but shit I should have noticed. Fuck.” He presses his forehead into your knees, and you can’t stop yourself from sinking your fingers into his hair.

He takes it as encouragement and presses into you before looking up again.

“I just kinda wanna put that whole night behind us. It feels like a fucking ouroboros of fault. And like maybe I created it. But let’s agree to like…not do that again.”

You look down at him, and his eyes search your face.

“Ok…but what does all this mean, Mare? I can’t…I need to be something to you, ok? More than just your friend.”

Mary nods emphatically, and he takes your hand and curls his into it.

“No more fuck-ups, and no one else…can we start there?”

He’s saying all the right words, but you’re still trepidatious—you know Mary, and he doesn’t like constraints.

“I…just…how can I believe you?”

He shakes his head like he can’t believe you even have to ask. He rises and awkwardly reaches out to touch your face before drawing his hand back.

“Cuz you’re important to me. I care about you, and I don’t want to lose you. Ever.”

And yeah. Ok.

[inevitably-johnlocked]

hi!! i recently got into johnlock and the universe has somehow directed me to your blog (which is an absolute godsend omfg). have you got any good possessive!john fics?

Hi Lovely!!!

AHHHH!! I’m so glad you enjoy my blog!!! <3 Thank you so much! <3

AHHH you know what??? I don’t get asked this all that much at all! I think mostly because it’s easier to find Possessive Sherlock fics and people then just... forget LOL

So guess what?? You’re the prompter for any fics I actually tagged or filed with Possessive John! <3 A pioneer you are! LOL I’m combining it with a few of the Obsessive fics as well, since I don’t have many new ones.

As usual, gang, feel free to add your own!! <3

POSSESSIVE / OBSESSIVE JOHN

See also: 

Specifically Jealous John b/c of Other People

Jealous John

Jealous John Pt. 2 and Jealous Sherlock Pt 2

Jealous John Pt 3 and Jealous Sherlock Pt 3

Jealous John and Sherlock Pt. 4

Jealous John and Sherlock Pt. 5

Hell or High water by bluefire301175 (E, 2,250 w., 1 Ch. || PWP, Frottage, Alley Sex, First Person POV John, Case-ish Fic, Mutual Pining, Bed Sharing) – John wants. Sherlock wants. Plain and simple.

Display by 221b_hound (E, 2,377 w., 1 Ch. || Post-HLV, Tattoos, Public Hand Jobs, Exhibitionism, Possessive Sex, Possessive Sherlock, Possessive John) – A new client has been flirting with Sherlock and, finding no joy there, with John. John seems annoyed to be second-best, Sherlock thinks, so Sherlock decides to give the departing woman (and maybe also John) a demonstration of who, exactly, John belongs to. But there's more than one level of sexual jealousy and more than one display of possession going on here, outlined in the window of 221b Baker Street. Part 2 of Lock and Key

Apodyopsis by QuinnAnderson (E, 3,347 w.,1 Ch. || PWP, Rough Sex, Table Sex, Anal, Sexual Tension) – Apodyopsis: (æpəʊdaɪˈɒpsɪs) noun. the act of mentally undressing someone. Part 2 of Undressed

Overture by Kate_Lear (M, 4,435 w., 1 Ch. || First Kiss / Time, Friends to Lovers, Angry John, Introspection, Dev. Rel., Embarrassed / Insecure Sherlock, Morning After, Bed Sharing, Cuddles / Limpet Sherlock) – A short snippet on how John and Sherlock might have got together.

Sherlock and John Go Clubbing by wendymarlowe (E, 4,716 w., 3 Ch. || Clubbing, Dirty Talk, Dancing, Coming Untouched, Coming in Pants, Bi John, For a Case, Friends to Lovers, Flirting, Sherlock is Lost for Words, Sexy John, Mutual Pining, Possessive John, Floor Sex/Hand Job/Frottage) – John pinched the bridge of his nose - even for Sherlock, this was a new level of no bloody boundaries. “You want me to go with you to a gay club, wait around twiddling my thumbs while I let you get pawed by a criminal, then out-flirt him and talk you into coming home with me instead?” Part 32 of John and Sherlock's Kinky First Times

Caves in the Mountains Are Seldom Unoccupied by starrysummernights & TheMadKatter13 (E, 7,925 w., 1 Ch. || Were-Creatures ||  Werebear John, Pseudo Bestiality, Rimming, Heavy Dub Con, Rough Sex, Come Inflation / Eating, Size Kink, PWP, Bratty Sherlock, Rutting) – “This isn’t something to play at, Sherlock,” he snapped. “If it doesn’t work out- what you’re asking of me- we can’t shrug and say 'oh well, at least we tried'. If we do this… I could seriously hurt you. Do you understand? I could lose control. I could… I could kill you.”

My Life for His by QuinnAnderson (E, 8,816 w., 1 Ch. || Guardian/Protector, Greek Mythology || Growing Up, Sex, Religious Themes, Suicide, Minor Character Death) – It began when Sherlock was eight, and he attempted to climb all the way up to the highest branch in the old willow tree in his back garden. He'd thought he was still small enough that it could support him, but the second he'd grabbed hold of it to pull himself up, the branch snapped, and down he went, plummeting a solid twenty metres. The odd thing was, he never actually hit the ground.

Of Course I Forgive You by allonsys_girl (E, 10,735 w., 1 Ch. || Love Confessions, Canon Divergence, First Time, Frottage, Wall Sex, Infidelity) – What if things had gone differently on that train car?

The Invocation of Saint Margaret by Ewebie (E, 15,831 w., 1 Ch. || POV John,  Crossing Timelines, Light Angst, Fluff, Series 3 John / Series 1 Sherlock, The Matchbox, Mushy Romance, First Time, Bisexual John, Pining John, Bottomlock, Love Confessions, Sensuality, Emotional Love Making, Snippets of Time) – When Sherlock Holmes opens the matchbox from The Sign of Three and John finds himself years in the past, back to that first dinner at Angelo's with a much younger Sherlock Holmes. Is he dreaming?

Out of the Woods by SilentAuror (E, 20,471 w., 1 Ch. || Post S4, Romance, Slow Burn, Flirting, Drunk Sex, Practical Jokes, POV Sherlock, Bottomlock, Possessive John, Pining Sherlock, Frustrated Wanking, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, First Kiss/Time, Virgin Sherlock, Love Confessions, Soft Sherlock, Dancing, Bum Appreciation, Hanging out with the Yard) – Sherlock is fairly certain that John has taken to flirting with him of late, but can't be entirely certain of it. At least, not until a case takes them into a forest, along with Lestrade's team and something happens that will change everything about their lives...

The Kepler Problem by kinklock (E, 24,270 w., 1 Ch. || Sci-Fi AU, Alien Sherlock, Space Repairman John, Alien Biology, Horny John) – Working in uncharted space exploration was not as exciting as John had hoped, especially when it turned out to be mostly bot maintenance on uninhabited planets. However, the mystery of the repeated, unexplained malfunctions on planet BAK 2212 might turn out to be exactly the kind of adventure he'd been craving.

Inscrutable to the Last by DiscordantWords (M, 48,842 w., 6 Ch. || Post-TRF, Alternate S3, John’s Blog/S3 is a Story By John, Divorce, Marital Difficulties, John is a Mess, Emotional Reunion, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Grief / Mourning, Pining John, First Kiss, Adorably Clueless Sherlock, Nostalgia, Love Confessions, Eventual Happy Ending, Obsessive John) – He wasn't Sherlock, he couldn't work miracles. All he'd ever been able to do was write about them.

The Hollow Woman by ScopesMonkey (M, 51,335 w., 22 Ch. || Post-TRF, Major Character Death, Mystery, Romance, Friendship, Family, Angst, Crime, Reunion, First Kiss / Time, Nightmares, Doctor John, Jealous Sherlock, Jealous John, BAMF John, Angry John, Dub-Con, Rough Sex, Bottomlock, Possessive John, Villain Mary, Open Ending) – Forced to return to London sooner than expected, Sherlock falls into a case too close to home. Part 1 of the Hollowverse series

Points by lifeonmars (E, 53,791 w., 42 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || HLV Rewrite / Canon Divergence, Married Life, Pregnancy / Baby Watson, Drinking to Cope, Boxing / Fisticuffs, Clueless John, Angst, Minor Medical Drama, Tattoos, Christmas, First Kiss/Time, Eventual Happy Ending, Love Confessions, Doctor John, Sexuality Crisis, Slow Burn, Case Fic, Drugging, Blow/Hand Job, Emotional Love Making, Parenthood, Passage of Time, Obsessive John) – What if His Last Vow never happened? This fic picks up a few months after John and Mary's wedding, in an alternate universe where Magnussen doesn't exist, but Mary is still pregnant. Life continues -- just in a different direction. And slowly, Sherlock and John find their way to each other.

The Bells of King's College by SilentAuror (E, 64,019 w., 5 Ch. || Post-S4, Missed Opportunities, Angst with Happy Ending, Fake Relationship, Case Fic, John POV, Jealous John, John in Denial, Travelling / Holidays, Virgin Sherlock, Wedding Proposals) – It's only been two weeks since Eurus Holmes disrupted their lives when Mycroft sends John and Sherlock to Cambridge to pose as an engaged couple at a wedding show in the hopes of solving six unsolved deaths...

Gimme Shelter by SinceWhenDoYouCallMe_John (E, 159,368 w., 21 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || 70′s Surfer AU || Period Typical Homophobia, Hawaii, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Professional Surfers, Gay John / Sherlock, Angst with Happy Ending, John was a Sailor, Misunderstandings) – All John Watson wants is the feeling of a freshly waxed surfboard under his feet and the hot California sun baking down onto his back. To finally go pro in the newly formed world of professional surfing and leave the dark memories of his past behind him as he rips across the face of a towering blue barrel. To lounge beside the beach bonfire every evening with an ice cold beer tucked into the cool sand beside him and listen to Pink Floyd and the Doors while the saltwater dries in his sun bleached hair. That's all he wants, that is, until the hot young phenom taking Oahu and the Hawaiian shores by storm steps up next to him in the sand in the second round of the 1976 International Surf Competition. (PUBLISHED AS ‘The Sea Ain’t Mine Alone’)

Proving A Point by elldotsee & J_Baillier (E, 186,270 w., 28 Ch. || Me Before You Fusion || Medical Realism, Insecure John, Depression, Romance, Angst, POV John, Sherlock Whump, Serious Illness, Doctor John, Injury Recovery, Assisted Suicide, Sherlock’s Violin, Awkward Sexual Situations, Alcoholism, Drugs, Idiots in Love, Slow Burn, Body Image, Friends to Lovers, Hurt / Comfort, Pain, Big Brother Mycroft, Intimacy, Anxiety, PTSD, Family Issues, Psychological Trauma, John Whump, Case Fics, Loneliness, Pain) – Invalided home from Afghanistan, running out of funds and convinced that his surgical career is over, John Watson accepts a mysterious job offer to provide care and companionship for a disabled person. Little does he know how much hangs in the balance of his performance as he settles into his new life at Musgrave Court.

Free Falling by twistedthicket1 (M, 203,574 w., 38 Ch. || Guardian Angels AU || Guardian Angel John, Fluff and Angst, Humour, Kidlock / Teenlock, Light Mystrade, Passage of Time, Possessive John, Drug Use / Overdose, Victor Trevor, Graphic Bullying, Big Brother Mycroft, Hard Drug Use, Depression, Possessive Sherlock, Possessive John, Panic Attacks, Nightmares/PTSD, Pining, Healing Abilities, Kidnapping, Violence, Torture, Blow Jobs, Virgin John, Emotional Development / Attachment, Mortality, Happy Ending) – All Guardian angels are born with a Chosen human. When this child is born, the angel comes into being to protect and care for them during their life on Earth. For John Watson, all he cares about in the world revolves around his Chosen, Sherlock Holmes. Watching him grow up though, the angel soon learns that God must have had a sense of humour the day he decided to make Sherlock, as trouble seems to follow him like a magnet wherever he goes. John can't decide what's worse, the idea of losing his Chosen one, or the fact that he may be breaking the most taboo law of heaven as he disguises himself as a human to better protect and befriend the beloved detective he's always watched from afar. He was meant to care for him. But what happens when caring evolves into something more? What happens when an emotion an angel is supposed to be incapable of possessing comes to life suddenly and viciously inside John's chest?

[scapegrace74-blog]

New Ways of Turning Into Stone, Chapter 2

A/N I should really think of story titles with fewer words in them, huh?  Thank you so much for the warm reception to the first chapter of my latest fic!  Of course, we all want to know what caused Janet to force Jamie to seek out grief counselling services.  But before we get there, I think we need to know a little bit more about the good doctor herself.  So no Jamie in this chapter, but never fear, he’ll be back in the next one!   Trigger warning for fertility issues.  The working chapter title is “Psychiatrist, Heal Thyself”.

Friday evening arrived, announced by two days of nearly pristine pages in her planner.  Exhausted by the work week’s hectic schedule, Claire stood ambivalently at the doorstep of each dawning weekend.   It wasn’t that she minded the time alone.  Quite the opposite; she was fond of her own company.  But a quiet mind was a mind open to whispers of the past, and those she couldn’t abide.

“What are yer plans fer the next twa days, then?” Geillis asked as she locked the office door.  Her friend was well-versed in Claire’s many coping mechanisms, even the ones Claire barely acknowledged herself.

“Oh, you know, the usual,” she replied as they got into the lift.  “A few classes at the gym, tidying my flat, maybe a run.”

“Christ, tha’ sounds like a punishment, no’ a break!  Ye need tae recharge, Doctor Beauchamp.  Would ye stop tae smell the flowers, jus’ fer a second, fer me?”

Watching the floor numbers slowly tick down, Claire considered her friend’s oft-repeated counsel.  It wasn’t that she doubted the sincerity or sense behind the plea: clinically, she knew the healing power of relaxation, of doing something for the sheer pleasure of it, or of doing nothing at all.  She had been on the treadmill of mindless momentum for so long, though, she wasn’t sure she remembered how to to step off.

The bell dinged and they walked together across the lobby.  Everywhere, people were milling about, rushing with a mobile tucked between chin and shoulder, meeting friends for an après-work drink.  They reminded Claire of ants, engaged in alien activities she could only interpret from a distance.

“I’ll take it under advisement, Geil,” she placated.  They had reached the pavement outside their office, where each weekend they parted to go their separate ways.

“Alright, hen.  Call me, if... weel, ye ken ye can always call, right?”

The back of her throat constricted, squeezing moisture towards her eyes.  Rather than risk speaking, Claire nodded emphatically, gave her friend a quick hug, and walked away without a backwards glance.

***

The next day dawned with a moist crispness to the air.  Having lived in the capital long enough to know that any pleasant weather might be short-lived, Claire threw the windows of her flat open to the timid breeze.  Pushing her utilitarian furniture against the walls and rolling back a threadbare Oriental carpet she’d inherited from her uncle, she proceeded to mop and then wax her floors.  Curls restrained in a kerchief, she’d donned her oldest yoga pants and sweat top for this Saturday morning cleaning ritual.  The kitchen was next.  By the time she reached the bathroom, she was perspiring and a number of ringlets had escaped confinement.

After a much-needed shower, she decided to apply a hot oil treatment and throw together an egg-white omelette.  She ate on the couch, the morning paper balanced on her knee.

Ten o’clock.  Only twelve more hours to go before bedtime.

***

Emboldened by the continued clear skies, Claire decided to try a new running route after lunch.  She usually ran the perimetre of Holyrood Park before finishing up with a hard sprint to the rocky nub of Arthur’s Seat.  Today, she took the tram to Corstorphine Hill, the site of an under-visited walled garden according to an article she’d read online.  Dirt paths meandered the park,  entering and leaving oak woods whose grassy skirts were embroidered by sunlight and bluebells.  It was all quite enchanting, and by the time she came across the walled garden, her heart beat with a long-lost weightlessness.

The garden itself was a pocket wonder; tiny but bursting with botanical life.  And while she didn’t literally stoop to smell any of the vernal blooms, she thought Geillis would be quite satisfied when they shared their usual Monday debrief of their weekend activities.

Walking downhill in search of a water fountain, a muddied roar travelled on the springtime wind.  It took a moment to place it, but she recalled that Murrayfield Stadium was located just to the south of the park.   Never a huge sporting enthusiast, she hadn’t been aware that a Scottish national rugby match was being played that afternoon.

Thoughts of rugby called to mind her newest patient.  With his height and bulk, she could imagine him following the sport, if not playing it himself.   Reason enough, she mused, to wander past the stadium as she cooled down.

With her mind pre-occupied, she completely missed the queue of people until it was too late.

“Frank!” a shrill voice broke her reverie, sending an icicle of dread down her spine.  Her heart kicked back into high gear, while her eyes scanned about for an approaching threat.  A tow-headed boy ran past, chasing a squirrel.  She stepped automatically out of his way, but managed to stumble over a tree root in her haste.

“Franklin!  Come back here this instant an’ apologize tae this lady!  Ye near knocked her o’er.”

Turning round, Claire was confronted by a hugely pregnant pale-haired woman, presumably the mother of the young boy who was now scuffing his feet through the leaf litter on his reluctant return.   She looked for a quick escape, but there were families everywhere.  She’d completely forgotten that the Edinburgh Zoo shared the hill with the park.

“I’m terribly sorry,” the mother offered.  “He’s sae excited tae see the pandas, ye ken.  An’ I canna chase after him as I used tae.”  As she spoke, the woman rubbed the globe of her belly, her eyes alight with the mysterious joys of impending motherhood.  It suddenly hurt to breath.

“No... errr, it’s fine, really,” she stammered.  “No harm done.”  Which was patently untrue, but the damage was pre-existing and beyond repair.  “Congratulations,” she choked out, the word like chalk in her mouth.  

The woman seemed eager to strike up a conversation. With a mumbled apology, Claire took off at a run, weaving down the path to the pavement, turning east and sprinting back to the safety of her flat, nearly three kilometres away.

***

As the evening wore on, it became impossible to overlook the truth of the day’s events.  No matter how hard she tried to pretend otherwise, Claire still wasn’t recovered from the ordeal that befell her over two years’ ago.  The irony of being a grief counsellor who couldn’t manage to overcome her own grief was bitter on her tongue.  What right did she have to counsel others in behaviours she couldn’t master herself?

She didn’t begrudge Frank his happiness, but she envied him greatly.  Their inability to conceive had torn a fatal wound in their relationship.  Both of them had suffered, both of them had lost a spouse.  But where Frank had quickly moved on to find another, more fertile partner, Claire felt like she was trapped in a never-ending cycle of self-blame and contempt.  No matter how far she ran or how diligently she planned the tidy compartments of her life, the anguish found her.  It was a corrosive shadow that dogged her days, always ready to darken her brightest moments.

It was well past eleven o’clock and she lay watching the flare of headlights chase each other across her bedroom ceiling.  A bottle of prescription pills promised sweet oblivion from inside her night table drawer.  She resisted for as long as she could, but as the minutes crept by, weary resignation won out.

Swallowing two of the capsules dry, she lay like a corpse wrapped in an Egyptian cotton shroud.  Slowly, the dry ice fog and discord of approaching sleep pulled her down, down, down below the waves of consciousness where nothing could harm her.

[hongism]

tangled - k. yeosang 18+

day 2 of kinktober: blindfolds - kang yeosang warnings: blindfolds, sensory deprivation, sensation play, temperature play, wax play, brief mentions of yeosang being a vampire, biting, explicit smut, unprotected sex, vampire!yeosang wc: 1.8k genre/rating: pwp, smut, 18+ 

​​​​

Deft fingers fasten a tight knot in the silk band behind your head before trailing down the back of your neck and massaging the skin there. You’re expecting the touch, but nonetheless, you shiver at the sensation. The dark veil over your eyes prevents you from seeing anything beyond its silk confines.

“Is it too tight, precious?” Yeosang says, his cool tone breaching the silence and hitting your ears in a pleasant way. You merely shake your head in denial, which brings a chuckle from Yeosang before he trails his cold fingers down the slopes of your sides. You hear him shift behind you and wait with bated breath for whatever his next movements are going to be. They don’t happen right away; in fact, you count to twenty-three before he touches you again, then you’re being backed up until your knees hit the edge of the bed. You wait for impact, for him to push you back and lay you out over the mattress, but that impact doesn’t come. Instead, his lips brush over yours. It’s the softest touch possible from lips that hold no warmth, yet your gut twists and churns with the coils of arousal.

You let him control the kiss, hands wandering to wrap around his neck, and he drags his tongue over your lower lip. He pushes the wet muscle into your mouth when your lips drop open for him, a hum of approval vibrating against your teeth. You relax your jaw and let him explore your mouth without resistance. The way he kisses you is almost addicting, as addicting as the chills that run down your spine when his fangs graze your neck or when he fucks you hard and fast.

Tonight though, his pace is languid and smooth. Part of it is due to the fact that he only just woke up not too long ago. On the other hand, he is taking full advantage of you being blindfolded right now, letting you feel every flexing muscle and ghosting breath. He must delight in the goosebumps that dance over your skin because he chuckles when he pulls away from your mouth. All you can do is wait for his next touch. It comes soon enough, thank goodness, but it catches you off-guard because the movement is much quicker and intense than the last. Yeosang slides his hands over your ass and hoists you up onto his waist. There’s a brief moment where it feels like you’ve entered a free fall, then the mattress cushions your fall. The air in your lungs escapes you with a whooshing oof, fanning over Yeosang’s face, no doubt, and he doesn’t even give you time to recover before his hands and lips are on you again.

This time, he lets his lips travel lower. He traces the edge of your jaw, tongue poking out to caress the skin, then he scoots down to the column of your neck. He always says that it’s his favorite part of you, and you always assumed that it was because he liked to feed from your neck rather than anywhere else. That is until one night he revealed that it was merely because you always put your neck on display, and the temptation to lay marks all over your skin never leaves his mind. Thus you aren’t all too surprised when he spends extra night lavishing the skin there. Thanks to the blindfold, your senses are heightened to a new extreme, and every little touch causes new shock waves of arousal to blossom in your gut.

It’s like nothing you’ve ever experienced before. You’ve only been deprived of one sense, yet it feels like your body is on fire. Yeosang continues to nip and tug at the skin of your neck. He slides lower to find the junction of your neck and shoulder, fangs slipping out only to tease not to make you bleed. When he pulls back, a small whine escapes you against your will. Yeosang huffs out a laugh and brings his hands up to cradle your face. You subconsciously nuzzle into the touch, pressing a kiss to the side of his palm.

Yeosang drags the flat of his hands down to your shoulder and continues onwards until he finds your wrists. He tugs them upwards one at a time, and even though you’re expecting the brush of silk, it still elicits a gasp from your lips. Yeosang continues to move at the same slow pace even as he ties your wrists to the bed frame with that soft silk. He leaves enough room for you to slip out of them, but you just twist the material around your palm and secure yourself to the bed frame. Yeosang chuckles at your eager movements and presses a kiss to the inside of your wrist once he finishes tying the silk.

“You’re so so beautiful, my love,” Yeosang exhales after a moment of silence. His touch disappears before you have a chance to respond. You release a whine of complaint, tightening your grip on Yeosang’s neck to keep him from leaving you. “Shh, be patient, darling. Let me get the candle, okay?”

“Okay,” you mutter back as you wiggling a bit under Yeosang’s weight.

“Are you still certain about this?” Yeosang asks all of a sudden. You can’t see his gaze but you do feel it, sharp eyes trailing over your features and searching for an answer. You nod a few times. It must not be enough for Yeosang because he clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth and speaks again less than a second later. “I need you to use your words, precious.”

“Yes, I’m certain.”

Yeosang hums in approval, hands dropping to your thighs and pushing them apart in one swift movement. The pretty jeweled plug he put in you earlier still sits between your legs, and you push your hips up a little to show it off. Yeosang slaps his hand against the inside of your thigh, reveling in the soft gasp it pulls from your lips, then he closes his lithe fingers around the head of the plug. His movements are slow and deliberate as he tugs it out of your clenching walls. The sensation of being empty after so long brings a frown to your lips, but Yeosang doesn’t let you stay empty for long. He presses the head of his cock to your entrance, teasing you slightly with small thrusts, then he buries himself fully in your wet heat. A broken groan escapes him. Air hisses through gritted teeth as you clench hard around his member.

You expect him to start fucking you right away, but he doesn’t do anything. It takes a moment for you to catch onto what he’s doing. The only reason you catch on at all is because warm oil drips over your bare torso. You flinch at the unexpected impact, and Yeosang’s hands brush over your skin in an act of reassurance. He massages the oil into your body, rubbing in slow methodical circles until he’s pleased with the sight under him.

“Are you ready?” He asks again, still a breath of hesitation in his tone.

“Yes, baby, I’m ready,” you respond less than a second later. “Please.”

The plea is small yet impactful. Yeosang exhales a sharp hiss through his teeth, and you hear him shuffle around above you, cock twitching inside your tight walls. Finally, wax hits your skin. You release a drawn-out moan immediately upon contact, squeezing the silk around your palms tighter. Yeosang pulls his hips back. His cock drags against your velvet walls, and he revels in the way you tighten around him when he next pours wax across your body.

“Fuck, you feel so good around me, precious,” he groans. The bed dips on your right, and the angle of Yeosang’s hips against yours suddenly changes. His other hand doesn’t come down though; he must be keeping it up because wax dribbles closer to your collarbones. It hardens there almost immediately. You can feel the way it cakes on your skin, leaving a soothing burn atop the oil Yeosang rubbed over you earlier. Yeosang begins to build up a steady pace with his thrusts. His member hits the edge of your cervix with each swing of his hips, and the pleasant drag against your sweet spot causes moans to topple from your mouth without reservation. Your pleasured sounds only spur him on and cause him to move his hips faster.

It doesn’t take long for him to forget all about the candle and wax in favor of focusing on fucking you. His cock glides in and out of you, assisted by the abundance of arousal pooling between your legs. Yeosang hooks an arm under your leg and hoists it up over his shoulder, deepening the hit of his cock in you. The moans that tear through your chest are loud against the shell of Yeosang’s ear. He seems to enjoy them though, teeth grazing your neck without breaking the skin.

“Are you gonna cum for me, lovely?” He purrs, voice vibrating through your body.

“Y-Yes, yes, yes. Yeosang, I–”

“Shh, baby, cum for me, yeah?” His soft-spoken command is all you need to reach your climax. You cum hard, walls tightening hard around his cock, and a cry of pleasure falls from your lips. Yeosang leans in and presses a hot kiss to your mouth, eating up the moan in an instant. You fall still under his touch. Waves of pleasure ripple through you without cease. You don’t even realize when Yeosang reaches behind your head and unties the blindfold, eyes still squeezed shut and toes curled. Once it finally passes though, you open your eyes to find Yeosang’s sharp eyes blinking back at you with nothing but fondness. “Ready for a bath, my love?”

You almost nod right away before you notice that something is a bit different than usual. Then it hits you. Yeosang didn’t come.

“W-What about you?” You stammer out, motioning to where he’s still buried deep inside you. Yeosang teases his lower lip with his teeth then tucks your legs around his waist.

“That’s why I’m joining you in the bath, love.”

...

a/n: i tried something new with this one??? vampire yeosang is a sexc thought tho i couldn’t resist doing that, but i tried my best with the temperature play and did my research 👁👅👁

link to kinktober masterlist

taglist: @noonawriter​ @daniblogs164​ @felixity​ @okokokok123-45​ @jeonartemis​ @crescent-hwa​ @jertazz​ @wheresmymoniat​ @nlost21​ @lonely10vely​ @monbecaratstayarmy​ @hello-its-ya-boi​ @onyxblade01​​ @kimnamshiks​​ @poutychangbinnie​​ @toothlessshiber​​ @xxbluestrifexx​​ @lokihoeforhyunjin​​ @ice-cold-taeyong​​ @essantial​​ @blueish-sun​​ @etaerealboy​​ @notbeforelong​​ @wideawakeficrecs​​ @adestinyuwu​​ @simpforhyunjin​​ @naajix​​ @seoha​

unable to be tagged: @sailing-goddess-of-ateez @gingerale-addict 

[valgasnewsthings]

Marvellous remedy.

 When heartburn beginning am using a very simple and tested remedy, I take green apple, clean from peel, cut on layers, and right away eating 1/3 apple, in a few min. heartburn stopping.

In bedsores, non-healing wounds, ulcers, different   hardening use 100 ml. of vegetable oil, boil and add piece of bee wax, like a size of walnut. Mix all, cool. A mass , like Vaseline received, is a true marvellous cure. Grease for hurting places, wounds, ulcers, they are slowly healing, slowly disappearing different hardening.

Or still a good recipe against bedsores.

Fresh cabbage leafs, put in dish with vegetable oil/better is hyppophae oi/, and apply on bedsores, for a next day cabbage leaf will dry,like paper, doing this on an everyday till a full recovering.

9 years ago my joints are strong hurt, pills are not helped, ache raised and of sheet, which am covering. Thus, from despair am used a recipe, which am heard from my friend  as a cure for ache with onion.

Chop onion till juice giving, after apply onion to the ache joint, close film, wrap a warm scarf, and keep compress till ache stopping. Fresh hurt stops in a day, and after am doing still 1-2 compress for preventing.

And in my family and me is fungus on legs stayed, cured with ointments, lotions, and nothing helped, and just this method helped fought it.

One part of 70 percents vinegar food s acid at market you can to buy and two parts for glycerine at pharmacy you can buy, mix, and treating are damaging by fungus places.

And on launched cases forming tampon of gauze or cotton, wet in this solution, apply on damage place, wrap a top with film, and keep this compress for night.And on the morning a softening part to scrape and grease skin with cream.

If need to repeat, result is very good. And procedures doing carefully ,that for not burn a skin.

400 gr of honey, 4 lemons, one tea.sp. curcuma, dried grinder ginger , if root is fresh use 50 gr. Lemons to mince meat with peel, seeds remove, they are  bitter, and mix with honey, add curcuma, ginger. Use on the morning  one tbl.sp. for glass of hot boiled water on an empty stomach before 30 min till breakfast.

And so as for an everyday till remedy is ending.

This is remedy rises immunity and supports pressure in blood , am had his till 230 , now is in norm, thus am advising, and all of my friends are switched on this cure. This remedy is enough for long time. And not expensive, than pills ,which we're buying in pharmacy.

In our family is always having a taste and effective remedy against cold. And cook his a not hard.

0.5l. for salted lard, 2 garlic heads, green of dill, petroselinum, cilantro.. Lard and garlic to mince meat, chop greens, mix all. Add in clean jar and in refrigerator.. Received paste spreading on bread and eat with borsh, in my son-in-law if favourite meal, that he is not asks for second dish, my grandson enjoying eating her with pelemenis. And this remedy is benefit for thin peoples for rising in body mass. And who fear for vessels , not worry, cholesterol he is not rising, thus paste having lots of greens and garlic. 

And still recipe for a cough cure , as tested for many times. After using, lungs and bronchus are becoming  like in baby.

One kg of young pine twigs washing, chopping, adding in big enamel pot, adding 3 l. of water, when water is boils, is on the weak fire keeping for 15 min, infuse for hour. Filter, adding one kg of honey, and 25 ml. /one bottle from drug store infusion of propolis. Mixing, put in refrigerator in glass of jar, use one tea .sp. for 3 times/day before meal, till condition improving.

    from Valga s health news,gardening,and cooking ,and beauty . https://ift.tt/wLlf4XQ via https://ift.tt/NkeAVWJ

[mozak-hh]

Genshin impact A-Z smut alphabet:

Diluc

Thought I’d try something different hehe enjoy~

NSFW- You have been warned ;)

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after):

One for heavy romantic talk and praise after. He’ll scoop you up in his arms and tell you how beautiful you are. Anything you’d expect from a total gentleman. Doesn’t matter how rough your sex had been. He’s grown up to know to treat women right. He’ll even tell you stories about his journeys to different t cities to help you sleep.

B = Body part (They’re favorite body part as well as their partners):

On him, his hips. Just because he loves when they hit yours or your ass when he goes at it. Something about your plush skin hitting near his groin makes him shiver from pleasure. Especially when he rolls his hips and you start to mewl.

On you, your thighs, being able to squeeze them during sex is a pleasant feeling for him. Leaving hickeys is also very common. Being in a high social class makes it difficult to leave noticeable hickeys on you. So when he marks your thighs it’s a mutual agreement between the both of you that you are his.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum):

Inside. It’s truly a sight to behold when Diluc’s on top of you and he cums. He’ll lift his head up and roll his eyes back. Slowly rolling his hips in a rythmic pace. He’ll leave his cock inside you for a minute, relishing in the feeling of you soaked insides.

D = Dirty secret (Dirty Secret of theirs):

There has been many times where he has had to hide your underwear in his pocket. There was one occasion where he was fucking you in his office before a monthly meeting with business partners. Little did the both of you know they had planned to arrive a little early, so the moment he heard the distant chatter of the men walking through the hallway he shoved your panties inside his back pocket. Sliding out of you and doing up his pants. You got up and opened the door for the guests. Letting Diluc sit down behind his desk to hide his boner.

E = Experience (How experienced are they):

Diluc’s sexual prime time would have had to be his late teens. But even so he only had a few sexual partners. Even though I would love to make him this ultimate sex god, he probably wouldn’t be the most experienced. He still knows how to make sex special though.

F = Favorite position (Basically says it in the title):

Table top, and the grinding missionary. He’s more of the dominant type so these are perfect for him. There are many occasions where you guys have had office sex at his desk, And seeing you scrunch your eyes and moan makes him grunt and go faster.

G = Goofy (How serious are they? Do they prefer joking?):

Have you seen this man? He ain’t the humorous type, especially when he’s balls deep inside you. The closest to being goofy would probably be a few sarcastic remarks and teasing about how your to small to fit around his cock and stuff like that.

H = Hair (Does the carpet match the drapes? Are they groomed?):

Indeed, the carpet does Match the drapes, and it is decently trimmed.

I = Intimacy (How they are during the moment):

Almost too intimate. He’ll bring his face close to yours while the both of you are close, neck kisses and everything while you climax. He does have his moments. Where he’s fucking you for the sake of getting both of you off, but most of the time he’ll take it nice and slow.

J = Jack off (Masturbation headcanon):

Before you, and definately after he grew up a bit and became an adult, sex was never really an option for him. Since he was well known, it was hard for women to not boast about having sex with a man of high society. So he kept it on a low profile. Because of that, there where some nights where he just needed to let out some steam. The frequency heightened before he went into a relationship with you.

There was one occasion where you left your scarf at the winery. He found it quite fortunate due to the face that he was starving to touch you. He kept the scarf close to him on those nights, gripping it close as he smelt your scent. Grinding his cock into his hands.

K = Kink (One of their kinks):

Fucking you in lingerie. He thinks it compliments your body and make you look like an angel. Other kinks would probably be blindfolds and orgasm denial. Not letting you release and going executiatingly slow whenever your close. Until when he does finally let you cum you see stars.

Other than that he’s not the kinkiest man. The most intense kink he’d have would probably be wax play.

L = Location (Favorite place):

He love those night where the both of you close the tavern. It gives him a thrill to bend you over and fuck you behind the bar. Besides that it’s the bedroom and his office for him. But if he desides to let the maids go home for a few days and there’s just the two of you in the manor. Get ready to have sex on all of the furniture.

M = Motivation (What turns them on):

Your scent. Whenever you press yourself againgst him and he smells your hair. He’d probably also have a slight size kink, so touching your small frame with his large hands would really make him squirm.

N = No (Something they won’t do):

Knife play, or anything that involves extreme harm. There is also stuff that would embarrass him that is totally off the table. As long as he can have some control, then he should be cool. There is also no threesomes or side chicks. No one is sharing you with him.

O = Oral (Giving or receiving):

You where the first one to give him a b job lol. This man hasn’t had many sexual partners okay? He wasn’t that knowledged when it came to oral. It’s probably the only thing he’s not really figured out. He does love it when you cool him down after a long day. But something about sucking your clit in the most romantic way possible makes him so horny so i think he’d prefer giving.

P = Pace (Are they fast or slow):

Depends on his mood. Usual night he’d take it slow. But if he get jealous, or he hasn’t seen you in a while, he’ll definately go fast. But if you challenge him or complain, watch out. This man can go fast

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies):

Loves office quickies during the day. But that’s really it. Maybe in the back rooms of the tavern during quiet hours.

R = Risk (Will they be down to experiment in risky locations):

If he’s really struggling with a boner than yes, he would be down. Loosening that restraint on him can turn him on quite a bit.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go):

This is where his talents shine. This man can go for many, many rounds. Slow and fast, he’ll be sure to make you very sore in the morning. Sex to him can be very special, so he never wants it to end.

T = Toy (Do they own toys and if they do, will they use them):

I don’t think there would be things like branded sex toys in the genshin world so no.

U = Unfair (How much will they tease):

Oh yes, he will tease. When your begging for that release, he’ll spank your ass and stop, “wait, I’m not close.” Diluc would much rather you both come at the same time. So yeah, he’d definately tease you like that. There’s also the teasing with kisses. Starting at your feet to the crevice between your thigh and your heat. He won’t touch it, but instead go to your breasts. This man loves to make you work for it. To him it makes it more enjoyable at the end.

V = Volume (How loud are they if they even are):

Not that loud, mainly pillow talk and stuff of that kind. But when he’s close, the only thing coming out of him would be grunts and heavy breathing.

W = Wild card (Headcanon of choice):

The most memorable memory of his is when you told him you loved him. You where having a picnic in a deserted garden near the winery. He scooped you up and gently started to undress you. Making love to you many times that day. It is now his favourite place to go when he misses you.

X = X-Ray (What’s going on down there):

Not that girthy but the man has length. Perhaps 7,5 inches. A few veins here and there. The tip a pale shade of pink.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive):

Not as high as kaeyas but definitely has a decent sex drive. Maybe every second day as to not tire you out too much. The guy also has a lot to do, so there’s never enough sex for him in his opinion.

Z = ZZZ (How quickly do they fall asleep):

Won’t fall asleep unless you do. He’ll always stay up if you want to. After the deed is done. It’s all about you and what you need. Need him to tell you stories? Yep. Have a bath? Sure. Round 2? You don’t even need to say so. He doesn’t mind.

Comment who you want to see next! Hope you enjoyed x

[canary3d-obsessed]

Restless Rewatch: The Untamed Episode 13, second part

(Masterpost) (Other Canary Distractions) 

Warning: Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!

This Fucking Turtle

The rock that Wei Wuxian and Wen Chao are standing on starts to move, because of course it does. It’s a tortoise shell, sort of. There are some problems with this ostensible tortoise. 

First, Murder Turtle a tortoise is technically a turtle don't @ me doesn't look anything like a turtle. I try really hard not to project my western mythologies onto Chinese works, but god dang this thing looks like the Loch Ness monster.

Second, its shell wobbles a bit, but there's no indication that the creature can move around the cave until much later. During an extended fight with several tasty cultivators, it stays put and just moves its head around.  

The immobility problem aside, it's not a terrible monster. After the hell dog, I'm relieved to have a normal CGI beastie where some things are done really pretty well. Its eyes and skin are particularly good.

What's not good are the teeth. When Murder Turtle closes its mouth, its long pointy upper teeth have nowhere to go, so they pierce its lower jaw and just sink in there. No wonder it's pissed off.

Its relationship with its shell is...well, let's save that for the next episode.

Irons in the Fire

Meanwhile,  Wang Lingjiao (Wen Chao's girlfriend) decides she's in the mood for barbequed MianMian, so she grabs a hot iron to burn her face.

Wei Wuxian to the rescue! He shoots three arrows at once and hits all three of his targets, in a move that he'll repeat with even more arrows at a later date.

Wang Lingjiao decides to throw the iron at MianMian, who decides not to duck, while Wei Wuxian leaps into the path of the iron and gets deeply burned on the chest through his clothing. This is absolutely definitely how time, things flying through the air, and branding irons work.

(more after the cut)

Jiang Cheng and Wen Zhuliu start fighting again. These two can't quit each other, almost like they have a date with destiny in their future.  Jiang Cheng shows off his purple bloomers while he and Wen Zhuliu try to outspin each other.

Camera operator: Why you gotta take it out on me?

Wen It’s Time To Say Goodbye

The Wens decide to dip, heading up the rock face and cutting the ropes behind them, which would be super inconvenient if several of the cultivators didn't know how to literally fly.

But they also put a bunch of rocks in the hole, while Wen Qing begs them not to do it.

Down at the bottom of the cave, everyone sits and chats, while Murder Turtle wishes it had legs so it could chase them. Oh wait, it does have legs, it just isn't ready to get out of the bath yet

Call the Waaambulance

MianMian is crying over all the nonsense the writers have put her through in this episode, and Wei Wuxian tries to cheer her up by talking to her like she's a toddler. On the plus side, he'll be a great dad for a toddler one day.

Jin Zixuan: I'm used to women crying around me, is that not typical?

Lan Wangji has got no time for cheering up crying girls, and starts heading back to the turtle bath, because he has figured out how they can escape. 

He and Wei Wuxian show off their mind reading abilities, where Lan Wangji explains absolutely nothing and Wei Wuxian perfectly understands him. See also: “Fortunately.” 

Rather than try to swim for it, the other cultivators want to hang around and wait to be rescued, or just generally feel like staying put and whining. 

Wei Wuxian takes charge through sheer force of personality, and makes Jiang Cheng go find the way out while he himself distracts Murder Turtle with fire.

Wei Wuxian can make talismans without 1. ink 2. a brush or 3. paper. He just needs his flesh and his unusually sharp incisors. He's so far ahead of everyone around him; how is a dude this talented ever going to be anyone's right hand man? He’s already on track to creating a new talisman-based school of cultivation, even if he never gets around to the whole necromancy thing.  

Swimming in the Pool, Swimming is Cool

The main group of cultivators go swimming while Wei Wuxian lights fires to keep the tortoise's attention. For some reason he just stands there when it's about to eat him...maybe he's mesmerized? Lan Wangji flings him out of harm’s way and gets his already-busted leg chomped on. 

Wei Wuxian pulls Lan Wangji to safety and tells the other cultivators to get going. Jiang Cheng doesn't want to, but Jin Zixuan convinces him.

For fans of homoerotic screen caps, this episode is a gold mine.

Murder turtle suddenly remembers he has legs, but Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji instantly find a room he can’t fit into, so they’re okay for the night.

Owie Owie Owie

Now we have an extended hurt/comfort session with our wounded heroes. Lan Wangji is bleeding, so Wei Wuxian...puts a splint made of sticks directly onto his unbandaged lacerations, and ties it with his pristine headband, which will remain pristine. Then he puts medicine on the lacerations.

This seems like a situation where the script said "broken leg" and the makeup department said "MOAR BLOOD" and nobody changed the direction to the actors. In any case, the sticks seem to help and bandages are not mentioned.

What is mentioned, of course, is the dreaded stale blood, which plagues many a c-drama hero, and has to be driven out through strong emotion. This is totally how the human circulatory system works. To be fair, there is probably a perfectly reasonable underlying concept in Chinese medicine that has been exaggerated for dramatic effect, so that every possible ailment or injury results in vomiting blood, sometimes sexily.

Wei Wuxian clears up the blood problem super quickly by offering to show Lan Wangji his dick, not to put too fine a point on it. Alas, he retracts the offer once the crisis has passed.

Once they settle down, Lan Wangji takes the opportunity to put some medicine on Wei Wuxian's burned tit, and to chide him for letting himself get injured. It's like he doesn't even know him. 

Wei Wuxian: I had no choice, because I am psychologically driven to sacrifice myself for other people at every opportunity. Get used to it, cupcake.

Wei Wuxian points out that MianMian is pretty and that it would be bad for her to have a mark on her face. Lan Wangji points out, not quite in so many words, that Wei Wuxian is pretty and now HE has a permanent mark. Before Lan Wangji ever got to see his bare chest, too.

Wei Wuxian says it's cool for men to have marks on their bodies. Preferably hickeys and rope burns, but scars are okay too. 

Lan Wangji: you're going to love my future body mods, then.

Then Wei Wuxian waxes poetic about having a pretty girl remember your heroism, and Lan Wangji gets jealous and cranky. Wei Wuxian misinterprets this, but not unreasonably, considering that Lan Wangji was putting his own body between MianMian and harm not all that long ago.

After some extended eye fucking followed by laughing and saying "no homo" for the censors, the conversation moves to a more serious place. 

Wei Wuxian engages in a little WangXian meta analysis, noting that Lan Wangji can tease him now, and is talking to him slightly more. Falling for a high-spirited, popular extrovert has been hard on Lan Wangji, but Wei Wuxian is also struggling with falling for a nearly-silent, crushingly-shy introvert. Wei Wuxian really does find Lan Wangji boring on one level, at the same time as finding him utterly compelling on other levels. 

Wei Wuxian starts to say something about the Lans and stops himself with this charming gesture. I've seen it here and there in c-dramas and I assume it's a thing in China. It's a perfect way for a hyperactive talker to say "I'm shutting up now" without using even more words to say it.

Lan Wangji finally, FINALLY tells Wei Wuxian - briefly - what happened to his home. Wei Wuxian, in one of those moments of empathy that they have more and more often as time goes on, asks about his loved ones, and forgoes any other questions.

Lan Wangji tells him that Lan Qiren is seriously injured and Lan Xichen is missing. Wei Wuxian is extremely concerned about one of these people.

When Lan Wangji falls asleep at 9pm on the button, Wei Wuxian tenderly covers him in his own robe, offering physical comfort in place of the emotional comfort Lan Wangji won’t let anybody give him. 

Then Wei Wuxian gazes at him like a lovestruck dope, before settling down beside him for the night. 

Soundtrack: Peter Gabriel, I Go Swimming

[jeannereames]

This is probably a very stupid question, but how did the Ancient Greeks measure time (in terms of years and months) ? What was their calendar like? What year would Alexander have viewed himself to be living in?

I love these sorts of daily-life details, so I may have got a little carried away…. Before I get into the weeds, however, I want to make everyone aware of a reference resource:

E. J. Bickerman, Chronology of the Ancient World. Thames & Hudson, 1968.

Yeah, it’s old now, but Bickerman spent most of his career on dating puzzles, and I don’t think there’s anything recent to match it. When I first was told about it years ago in my historiography class, I practically bounced off the walls. (My fellow grad students thought I’d lost my mind.)

I’m not sure of the best way to address this query—topically or geographically—but I’ll go with topically. I’ll also say upfront that I’m unfamiliar with Egypt, so they’re not much mentioned. Also, if you want more details on any particular system (Roman, Athenian, Babylonian, Jewish), there are plenty of online resources.

Long-count Calendar

How to number years across a span? Regnal years was most common in antiquity: year 1, year 2, year 3 of ___ king. Also, king lists detailed how long ___ ruled. The Ancient Near East (ANE) excelled at chronologies; we have some that go back to Sumer. That’s pre-Bronze Age. The span of some reigns can be deeply problematic (e.g., mythical), but we have the lists. Fun note, Neo-Assyrians named years by its major military campaign. Tells us a lot about them, no?

What about places without kings? Greece, Rome, Carthage?

The Greeks had several systems, internal and panhellenic. Internal systems often dated by the name of a prominent city magistrate. In Athens, that was the eponymous archon, in Sparta, the eponymous ephor, etc. The panhellenic system used Olympic years. In Dancing with the Lion, if you look at date plates before sections, that’s what I used. It’s a 4-year system, so, “In the year of the 97th Olympiad,” “In the first year of the 97th Olympiad,” “In the second year…,” and “In the third year…,” then we’re to “In the year of the 98th Olympiad…” In modern annotation it’s Ol. 97.1, Ol. 97.2, Ol. 97.3, Ol. 97.4. From (our year) 776 BCE down into the Roman Imperial era, the Olympics made useful anchor dating for the eastern Mediterranean (Magna Graecia).

Rome had its own system: two in fact. It counted years by both consuls, but also AUC = ab urba condita … “from the founding of the city.” Carthage used a similar system involving their two senior Judges for their senate.

When it came to “world histories,” authors such as Diodoros Siculus used several systems: Olympiad, Athenian archon, and Roman consuls. It gets a bit unwieldy, but is about as universal as we have for the Med until Christianity took over everything.

Yearly Calendars

Much of the ancient world used lunar (354 days), not solar (356 days) calendars. Yes, they knew a lunar year didn’t line up with the solar, and they used “intercalation” to fix it, avoiding summer festivals being celebrated in winter. Either a 13th month was needed every 3 years, or they added a few days to months here and there, making a “lunisolar” calendar. We have an intercalated day in our own calendar: Feb. 29th in Leap Year. To fix a calendar, however, an “anchor” is needed. This anchor is usually a solstice or equinox, which may (or may not) correspond to their New Year.

Our modern (Western) world places New Year’s in the dead of winter. But many pre-modern calendars put it in spring. Makes sense: life renews, it’s a new year. The Babylonian New Year was decided by the spring equinox—first new moon after—which pattern affected most of the ANE.

The Hebrew New Year (Rosh Hashana) is in autumn, but their first month (Nisan) is in spring. (They also have a New Year for Trees! Tú bish'vat. How cool is that?) Wanna know when your Jewish friends are having a holiday? Use Hebcal, the gold standard.

MANY ancient cultures have more than one calendar running at a time. So do we. Working in the uni, I have the “normal” year, but also the “academic” year to keep up with.

Despite the dominance of certain early systems like Babylon, counting the new year was specific to a region and people, and their religious traditions. No single Greek new year tradition existed. Both Delos and Athens used the first new moon after the summer equinox: early July. The Macedonian calendar seems to as well, so Alexander was born in the first month of the year. Other city states were different. I’ve forgotten most but do remember Sparta’s is in autumn because their new year almost falls on my birthday.

Remember, although we today talk about “ancient Greece” as if it were a country—it wasn’t. There was a landmass called Hellas, but each city-state was independent, and had its own laws, gov’t, coinage, and religious cult. Too often “Greek” winds up being conflated with “Athenian,” because we happen to have the most evidence from ancient Athens. But both Athens and Sparta were weirdos. Corinth, Thebes, Argos, Mytilene, Cos, Eretria, Miletus…all were a lot more typically Greek in their gov’t systems, etc. There were also 3 (or 4) different branches of Greek: Ionic-Attic, Doric, and Aeolic. When we talk about reading the “ancient Greek” language today, most people mean Attic Greek, or even Koine Greek (Hellenistic era common Greek).

That means every city-state had its own calendar, connected to its own festivals.

In fact, most city-states had several: sacred, civic, etc. Athens had a 12-month lunar calendar for festivals, but a 10-month civic calendar corresponding to the 10 tribes for Assembly business. Originally, they had only 4 tribes, not 10, so political changes meant calendar changes.

In each city-state, month names were derived from the major festival for that month. We have the complete month names for only a few: Athens is one and (fortunately for me) Macedon is another (specifically Ptolemaic, but it’s likely the same as the Argead). Below “Ancient Greek Month” REALLY means “Athenian month,” which annoys the hell out of those of us who don’t consider Athens the be-all and end-all of Greek history!

Because their months were lunar, they bisect our months, e.g., July/Aug = Athenian Hekatombian or Macedonian Loos [Alexander’s birthmonth], Jan/Feb = Athenian Gamelion or Macedonian Peritios [probably the month that gave Alexander’s favorite hound his name: Peritos]. Likewise, as the Athenian new year began in midsummer, dating ancient events also bisects. You’ll see 342/1 to designate the year from July of 342 BCE to June of 341.

As mentioned, most places used lunar months as the most basic time-keeping, but the moon isn’t the only way to make a “month.” Rome originally had 10 months of 30/31 days, adding 2 later, which is why our 12 months have Romanesque names.

Just remember: NO UNIVERSAL SYSTEM for months.

What About Weeks?

A seven-day week is borrowed from the Jews via Christianity. Both Jews and Egyptians had a dedicated day of rest. (For Egypt, the 10th day.) In most places, however, days off were festival related. Every month had festivals, which might last from half a day to several days in a row. You worked…took off for a festival…then you worked. No regular day of rest. (For the modern weekend? Thank unions and the Labor Movement!)

How did others subdivide a month? Athenian months were c. 30 days, divided into 10s: 1-10, 11-20, 10-1. Yup, the last is backwards. But dating also counted waxing and waning moons. So the new moon began a month, the 7th of the month would be the 7th waxing moon, the 24th the 6th waning moon. This is the Athenian system. Other city-states are less clear, but probably similar.

Romans had kalens (1st), nones (7th), and ides (15th). Nundinae (market days) means 9th, but were really the 8th day. The 7-day week is late Imperial and, again, owes to Christian take-over of Jewish weeks.

Most systems had “auspicious” and “inauspicious” days for religious activities, civic activities, and business activities. Don’t start anything on an inauspicious day! (These were manipulated, especially in Rome, but that’s a whole different discussion.) The closest modern equivalent I can think of is Mercury Retrograde. 😊 Although in modern Greece, signing a contract on a Tuesday morning is bad juju, or May 29th. Constantinople fell on a Tuesday morning May 29th, 1453. We might, in America, consider 9/11. Who wants to open a business on 9/11?

The Horai (The Hours)

When did the day begin? Again, the ANE and Med are different. In the ANE, day typically began at sunset. So yes, that’s why the Jewish shabbat starts at sunset on Friday and lasts till sunset on Saturday. (If you didn’t know, the Jewish “day of rest” isn’t Sunday, but Saturday.)

For Greece and Rome, et al., day began at dawn. Each day was then evenly divided between day and night, so there was no standard length of an hour. It depended on the time of year. Each half had twelve hours, subdivided into 4 groups of triads. Originally in Greece it seems there were only 9, not twelve, but they increased to match the lunar months. The division of 4 groups of triads also yielded the 4 seasons of 3 months each. Hora was initially a season, not an hour.

In any case, dawn was always the first hour, noon the 6th, sunset the 12th. Same deal for night (twilight, midnight, pre-dawn).

This is great for military and civic purposes, but most people tended to refer to daytime divisions more generally: dawn, midday, etc. And there was nothing like minutes or seconds. That’s totally modern. Closest, they might come would be to count “breaths.”

The gnomon (sundial) was the chief way to measure hours, as it matched longer or shorter days. But it’s kinda hard to use a sundial at night, or on a cloudy day, or inside. Night hours were approximate.

The water clock (klepsudra) was first popularized in Greece in courts and the Assembly (to time speeches), but spread to other use, for inside or on shady days. Yet water clocks are unwieldy to carry around.

The Romans did have portable sundials (below), but again…needs the SUN. Btw, I should add that sundials aren’t only a Greco-Roman thing. The Chinese had them too. By contrast, the sand-clock or hourglass is a medieval invention. Won’t find them in the ancient world.