#like stop pretending we can build equality with these people

[ragnarssons]

so, i re-rewatched gladiator II and i gotta say, i feel like this movie wouldn't struggle with its story anywhere as much, had the first movie been honest with its protagonists and who they were. marcus aurelius (movie-wise, even) wasn't a "fair, pro-democracy" emperor, during his reign, rome conquered a lot of territories and enslaved a shitton of people. heck, macrinus' character exists precisely because of that: because marcus aurelius also conquered and enslaved people. maximus was, sure, a "defender of rome", he also was just like acacius, a general, conquering cities, killing men, women and children to do so, burning their bodies in mass graves, feeding off the blood of people who would then end up as slaves to rome. the first movie (and by extension, the second movie) glorifying these characters into "role models" just takes away all the complex (and interesting) ambiguity that is brought up by characters like lucius/hanno, macrinus, acacius, etc. and where the second movie doesn't delve nearly enough into these complicated, intricated questions, it could be because ridley scott (or anyone involved in the movie tbh) didn't dare question what the narrative was for the first movie. you can't just take a character like maximus, adored by fans, and 20 years later, question whether or not he truly was a hero. because in the first movie (the timeframe portrayed in the movie, i mean), he was a hero. he thought for freedom.... once he was in the arena. once he became a slave. once he was betrayed by the rome he'd spent decades of his life serving. and we needed this hero as a source of inspiration to a character with his morality muddled like lucius. i guess i'm not as troubled by the glorification of maximus as i am of marcus aurelius, tho. because at the end of the day, macrinus is portrayed as being wrong, awful, and worse than his own enslaver??? because, the gladiator saga as it is, has characters who serve the purpose of denouncing the colonialist politics of rome, while also glorifying it through other characters??? and then the narrative being like "oh but it's the fault of these bloodthirsty emperors" (either comodus or caracalla/geta) but actually not, because even "nice democracy guy" marcus aurelius and "liberty hero" maximus fought to conquer and enslave people, sooo? 🤷‍♀️ when it's just...... so much more complex than that? and it would be so interesting to have had either maximus question that in the first movie, lucilla question than when faced with macrinus, lucius just serving lucilla's narrative to question that. i feel like the movie goes so fast that we brushed over so many character moments that could've been interesting, like literally acacius learning about how his conquests literally murdered lucius' wife? or lucius questioning how his father is actually literally just like acacius and how many widow(er)s, orphans, did maximus (and marcus aurelius) leave in his (their) wake? or, to go back to the first movie, have maximus, who bonded with juba just THINK for two seconds about the fact that it's because of him, the system of marcus aurelius, that juba ended up as a slave? like sure, the first movie being more "bottled", it feels like it's less lacking than a movie about literally "the heir taking the throne", but both movies suffer from the same.... lack of nuances and questions being put in front of the characters, moral dilemmas or times for the characters to introspect. it would've worked perfectly fine, had gladiator stayed one movie, but if you're gonna build a saga about "freeing rome from tyranny" like why don't you question the whole SYSTEM of rome which is itself a tyranny, no matter who has the power? a system who upholds men like comodus, caracalla and geta, a system that is held together by these same senators who are corrupted to the bone and NOT AT ALL the ideal "democracy guys" that lucilla (anyone in rome) should rely on to change the system? (like biiiiiiiiitch wake tf up... oops too late i guess). idk 🤷‍♀️

[genderqueerdykes]

terves will try to erase the existence of women with masculine primary and secondary sex characteristics that developed without HRT, but we exist. my mom, sister, aunt and grandmother all grow/grew facial hair. my sister began balding in her late 20s due to high testosterone. most of my aunts have very masculine facial features.

my sister is diagnosed with pcos. my family is full of intersex women with naturally masculine features. one of my aunts gets misgendered as a man constantly because she doesn't shave her mustache that often, has black hair, and dresses very masc. most of the women in my family are stocky with dense builds. all of these women exist this way without any HRT or modification on their behalf. none of these women have endometriosis either. pcos is what runs in my family

intersex women are everywhere. perisex women who don't have intersex conditions are everywhere. women of color with features deemed "MASCULINE" by white beauty standards are everywhere. butch women are everywhere. there are women who develop masculine features all the time for a variety of reasons. it's time to stop erasing these people for the sake of attacking trans women.

let women with "Masculine" features, trans, intersex, queer, and everything else speak. stop erasing the existence of millions of women for the sake of petty arguments and transmisogyny. enough is enough. i will not sit here and pretend like my own goddamn relatives don't exist while terves do so they can silence trans women. women come in all fucking shapes and sizes period end of sentence.

stop attacking my sisters while erasing the rest of my family. all of these women are my family equally. stop fucking with us or i'll fuck with you.

[rmbunnie]

I see so much of "is post-crisis Robin Jason an innocent little sweetie-pie or a mean aggro delinquent" and after reading through all of his batman and detective comic issues post-crisis I think i can safely say he's... an introverted and distrustful, but altogether friendly teen boy who has convinced himself to the deepest level that he is an Adult Man, and also does not hold a particularly good view of adults.

The sweet little babypie characterization falls a little short (assuming we aren't being too silly with it, there's plenty of that in the comedy issues of tec) because it disregards the part where he's a jaded teenager who is constantly going off and trying to take care of his own problems like "his own man" and reacts negatively to any breach of trust or move to take care of him. But negative doesn't mean "violent and rageful." The delinquent angle is incorrect because not only is his disposition peppy, silly, and agreeable most of the time, but assuming the problem upsetting him isn't a predator or the guy who killed his dad (and three out of four canon instances it is a predator to be clear) he reacts to emotional turmoil with Bruce by bedrotting, sulking, communicating through notes, and overall being avoidant. The only times he lashes out are when Bruce is calling him out or after Bruce told him to his face that he chose to look for the Joker over looking for him, and that case of "lashing out" is just getting a little snarky.

More than anything his main personality trait (besides being silly, a robin staple) is kinda coming into this parentified as fuck. Not that it's Catherine's fault, but it really shaped his character, like one of the first things he says to Bruce (after he promised not to turn Jason in to the foster system) is that he kept her fed and warm as long as he could like he wasn't her ten year old child when he started. It's why he views himself on the same level as adults and why he gets all closed off at any insinuation that he needs to be taken care of, both of which heavily inform his dynamic with Bruce. He's constantly checking in on Bruce's wellbeing, like half of Batman: the Cult is just him taking care of Bruce while he recuperates from being brainwashed. (Side note, he's also constantly asking Bruce stuff like "what's your relationship like with this woman or this rogue or the concept of religion, how did that play out, how do you feel about it?" he is Very chatty like that.) The first thing he does when Sheila tells him her (revised to exclude medical malpractice) life story is hold HER and try to affirm her struggle. After a while he starts to act more childish with Bruce (although he doesn't really stop trying to brush off attempts to care for him) but as soon as Bruce admits he prioritized crimefighting over Jason and didn't show up to look after Jason like Jason assumed he came there for, Jason snaps back to acting very independent and rejecting any attempts to be looked after on any terms other than some kind of "equals" thing, which he isn't, as he's a 15 year old boy. Like. He's very sweet to his former neighbor, but also he refers to being a homeless child and the sole provider in his condemned building living situation as "getting by" to her.

He's definitely not. some bloodthirsty delinquent, at least to anyone who's not an uber-misogynistic predator, and he like demonstrably is a pretty sweet kid. It's just that when people say he's a sweet kid they kinda just jump to "untraumatized eight-year-old who grew up in a loving family and just got a new puppy from Santa" instead of "good hearted and curious teenager who has trust issues and is deeply uncomfortable with being taken care of, so kinda just compromises by pretending his dad is a Friend Doing him a Solid and acts like his kid only when he has plausible deniability so he can't get the rug pulled out from under him." Of course. He does kinda get the rug pulled out from under him despite all that. So there's that.

[blastoqueen]

Sunrise.

Chapter 6

Rating: Teen and Up

Relationships: Noa x Mae (Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes)

Content warnings: None

Comments: English is not my first language. This is my last chapter before going back to Med School :(

“How are Noa… and you?” Anaya asked, a little scared to make the female angry or uncomfortable, he knew it was a sensible topic and that the more-than-just-a-friendship thing between them was long time dead.

“Fine” Soona said “He is my friend… like you”

The curiosity was killing Anaya, so he pushed the limits a little bit.

“I know you… were… too close” the male avoided eye contact.

His friend just stood there, not making any movements or showing any emotions.

“Can I be… honest with you, Anaya?”

“Yes! Of course”

Soona inhaled.

“I hoped Noa would see me as… something more… than just his friend” even though her words were sad, her face only showed serenity “He took me… to see the world… once we were… free from Proximus. However… I knew he didn’t… love me that much”

“Oh no, no, no, no, Soona” the male said, he reached to his friend and hugged her tight “He loves you… very much. I do too”

The smaller ape laughed a little, hugging her friend back. When they let go, she continued.

“But you know… what I mean” Anaya looked at the floor, feeling sad for her “And then Mae came back… I didn’t… trust her. And when she… left again I begged… Noa to let her go. He didn’t, but I learned to… forgive. Mae is good and she… is my friend”

He wanted to tell her about the night Mae and Noa were out to see the lighting dancers, but he promised not to tell anyone, so he stayed silent. All he could do was take Soona’s hand in his and act like a true friend.

-----------

“Is this another secret spot you wanted to show me?” Mae said. She and the ape were doing a light climbing in a destroyed three-story building covered in leaves.

“No. I want to teach you how to be strong” Noa said, grabbing a branch and pushing himself up.

“I am strong” Mae said, panting.

“When you came to the village you were a twig”

“Sorry for being held captive in a quarantine bunker”

“No excuses”

They were only halfway through when Mae stopped, hugging a big branch with both arms, closing her eyes and exhaling.

“Mae?” the male came closer to the human, hanging only from one arm and feet.

He put his other hand on top of Mae´s head, gently caressing her hair.

“What is wrong?”

“I just… need a minute”

“I´m bringing you to the village”

“No! No, I can. I just need to rest a little bit”

“Mae”

“I can do it”

The Echo reached another branch, but quickly slipped, Noa held her by the waist, while all her limbs hung loose.

The ape took her to the ground and Mae sat immediately.

“Sorry, but the sun and the height…”

“It's okey”

“Tomorrow we can try again”

“Sure”

Noa was a little devastated, he felt anger at himself. He wanted to pretend Mae was the same as him, or maybe that she could be like him, but they were so different in many aspects. He used to think maybe she was weak even among her own, but he had seen her killed Trevathan…

Maybe it was time to accept the reality. They were different.

Why was he trying to make them both seem equal?

“So that it wouldn’t be so weird to have these feelings”

“Let´s go to the village. And then you… can teach me how to read” Noa said.

Mae looked up and made a strange face, the ape was taken back at that.

“I… no”

No?

“Oh. I just thought… you could teach me some things from your… people” he felt shy, embarrassed, suddenly, his hands became awkward.

“I can´t teach you more things” Mae murmured “Sorry”

“Is that… forbidden?”

“For me, yeah, it is”

“For you?” Noa sat besides her “Is someone forbidding you?”

“No, Noa. I am forbidding myself… from teaching you”

He was getting more confused every time, maybe the girl was really tired…

Right when he was about to offer they return to the village, the Echo spoke.

“I can´t teach the apes. It´s dangerous”

“What?”

Mae refused to look him in the eyes.

“I can not believe you” Noa sighed, he got up and stared at the human “Dangerous? Why would it be dangerous?”

“It is, Noa!” Mae said exasperated, she stood up and almost fall back, Noa resisted the urge to catch her “You are already… evolving. Remember what Proximus said? Those weapons in the bunker would have help the apes to evolve and we don´t want that! Weapons and guns are not the only way your kind can evolve, Noa, knowledge can do that too”

“So you will not share it. Because you are scared that we become… better than you humans. Is that so, Mae?”

“Yes” her face showed security.

Noa walked towards the human and stood in front of her. They were almost the same heigh, both pair of eyes watching each other intensely.

“You are so fake” the ape chuckle “Every time I think you had change… you just prove me wrong. You pretend and lie and steal. Are all humans… like you, Mae? Or are you just a rotten apple among them?”

“Shut up! You stupid animal!” Mae yelled furious, pushing the ape with both hands, only moving him a little.

“How does it feel, Mae? Watching me… evolve”

“You will never know how it feels to be completely human” the human started to cry, tears rolling down her cheeks, anger in her eyes.

“I don’t want to be human” Noa said “And I don’t need you to help me... evolve. I fixed the electric spear… without help and without you, remember?”

“Your time is over, Noa. I delivered the key, got that? The book that could make humans speak again. It´s only a matter of time before the humans reunite and be strong again, it will be our planet again”

“The things with us, princess, is that we don’t claim the planet. We… live here, but it is not ours!”

“You wouldn’t understand”

“No? Am I too dumb, Mae?”

“You didn’t see the world with us in it”

“And you did? How old are you, Mae? Because… I am sure that you never saw the world… either”

“You are being too... cruel” Noa could see the pain in her eyes, the puffy face and red cheeks. The tiredness.

Did he cross the line?

“Let´s go to the village” Noa said, lowering his voice but keeping the cold tone in it.

“I´ll go by myself. I know were it is” Mae started to walk when the ape grabbed her arm. Why did he keep doing that?

“No. We are going together”

“After all that… what makes you think I want your company?”

“I don’t care if you want it or not. I am not… leaving you”

“Whatever” she said with disdain, pushing him away from her.

They started walking putting some distance between them. The ape could hear Mae´s sobs.

Were they going to be able to forgive each other for the words said today?

"Would I ever forgive myself for making her cry?"

[the-music-maniac]

Not that I read mpreg all that often (not really my thing generally speaking) but I came across some "Sanji is pregnant" fics in the sanzo/zosan tag, and not nearly the same amount for Zoro. It got me thinking about the trope. I think the lack of Zoro fics here is a tragic oversight. I think we as a fandom are absolutely and tragically ignoring the potential comedy gold of Zoro being the one to be pregnant instead.

Because when people write Sanji, the general trend I'm seeing (upon scanning through some of the fics quickly) is that he's cautious about it. Conscientious, careful to make sure things are okay. Which - arguably I could see, Sanji is probably the more practical of the two (not by a whole lot but still)and he didn't have a good childhood. Sanji being pregnant is usually a fic about his heaps of parental issues, childhood trauma and angst - which is fun to read. It's good. It's amazing, even.

Zoro being pregnant is ONE HUNDRED PERCENT gonna be a COMEDY. We're talking about a man who once tried to fight Kuina holding like 20 bokkens. We're talking about a man who got stuck in wax and thought the reasonable solution was to cut off his legs.

The entire crew spends the next 9 months tearing their hair out, preventing Zoro from doing stupid shit (exhibit A: cutting off his own limbs). They spend the same amount of time trying to stop Luffy from gum-gum-grabbing Zoro and yeeting him anytime he needs to get them out of a sticky situation.

The crew (mostly Sanji) is on 24/7 prevent-zoro-from-drinking-alcohol duty (impossible). Chopper is constantly stressed in the later months cause no one puts it past Zoro to get lost somewhere, give birth out in the woods and come strolling back with a baby tucked under his arm. They have to start hiding Zoro's dumbbells.

Franky and Usopp design and build a nursery and spends the entire time suspiciously teary eyed. Sanji tries to pretend he's unaffected but spends an entire night creating a 9 month meal plan of all the nutrients Zoro and the baby are gonna need. Not even a day later, one of the crew finds him up at 2 am making a mountain of food because Zoro made the mistake of offhandedly mentioning he had particular pregnancy craving within earshot of Sanji. In the end Zoro has to sit on him to stop Sanji from running himself ragged.

Robin keeps spouting morbid childbirth facts and quotes from parental advice books in equal measure. Nami keeps going on shopping sprees for cute baby clothes and adding the cost of them to Zoro's debt. Brook keeps writing lullabies and trying to sing them to Zoro's stomach. Zoro 100% uses his pregnancy belly as an excuse to walk around without a shirt 24/7 without getting nagged.

Somehow word gets out that the famous pirate hunter Zoro is pregnant, and at the next big fight with the Marines, half the soldiers refuse to fight him and instead start telling him to sit down, take it easy, shouting advice at him etc. Etc. Zoro loses his shit a little bit and cuts their boat in half.

Mihawk, upon finding out, tells Zoro in no uncertain terms that that is his grandchild and he's expecting them to visit so he can meet the baby when they're born. Zoro vehemently denies that Mihawk is his father (he is). Zeff upon finding out, is almost as bad as Sanji when it comes to being a mother hen. Perona buys even more baby clothes for the baby. She buys one singular shirt for Zoro as a joke, and it coincidentally happens to be the exact same brand of "mama" crop top he was forced to wear in that one filler episode. Zoro tries to chuck it into the ocean (he fails).

I'm essentially saying it would be absolute chaos, and it would be the funniest thing I've ever read. 9 months of Marimo wrangling. Can you imagine the look on Zoro's face if one of the opponents he was fighting were to tell him that he's "glowing"?

PLEASE, I would actually wheeze myself to death. The best part is you can still have plenty of Sanji angst. He still has parental issues except now they're flavoured with "I'm not ready to be a father" and "I'm terrified I'm gonna become my biological sperm donor" and "please don't die because of childbirth complications, that happened to my mother(sort of, I know she died after but it kinda counts), and I can't handle that happening again to you". Lots of cute/tender moments of Zoro comforting and reassuring Sanji. We can even have Zoro angst. He probably views protecting his crew as the one and only job he's good for (not true but that's probably what he thinks). Not being able to fulfill that is probably not helping his self esteem, and that sense of uselessness warring with his need to protect the baby - but the contradictory thing here is that to protect the baby he HAS to sit back and let other people do that FOR him. That plus all the other restrictions, people treating him differently, but him at the same time refusing to view his own child as a weakness. Imagine the havoc that would wreak. Oh my god.

Y'all don't understand, I don't even read mpreg that often and yet this is literally my ideal fic HAHAAAAA

[actual-changeling]

See, but there's something about the first fight in episode 1 that just doesn't really. fit. It very much feels like we are missing information here.

I have been thinking about this show all day, as one does, but in particular why Crowley gets angry enough to shoot literal lightning at a nearby building. We have experienced him upset before, but never to that specific degree, and their disagreement over Gabriel just does not explain it for me.

My hypothesis: a big, important fight happened right before season 2 picks up that left Crowley feeling rejected and Aziraphale neglected.

The biggest clue is the snippet of conversation about myself vs. ourselves.

"I thought we had carved it out for ourselves"

He almost sounds offended when he says that, yet Crowley reacts with equal parts hurt and anger, like he is referencing something that we, the viewer, do not have any knowledge of.

"So did I"

However, Aziraphale seems to understand whatever Crowley is referring to and does not respond with anything in return. Yet whatever wound they just opened keeps bleeding, and when Aziraphale tells him, packaged nicely, to fuck off, Crowley seems more sad than upset to me.

The to go? is almost said softly and with an initial confusion that hides a LOT of unspoken pain. Plus the HAND MOTION? The gesturing between the two of them while saying "oh, so this is how you wanna do this?" - call me insane, but to me that very much sounds like "oh so this is how you want to break up?"

The funny part is, if Aziraphale had simply shut up after saying "I want you to help me take care of him", I can GUARANTEE YOU that Crowley would have begrudgingly agreed. But he doesn't. He keeps going and this is the first moment this season where he is genuinely and truly bitchy.

"But if you won't, you won't" with the demonstrative sit-down and turning away from him, eyes forward. It pokes at whatever wound is still open and bleeding between them. Aziraphale wants Crowley to jump over his shadow and come help him, ignoring his boundaries. Meanwhile Crowley feels fundamentally misunderstood and rejected and wants Aziraphale to SHOW that he cares about Crowley more than he cares about fucking Gabriel of all people.

That he cares about them more than about heaven.

And now we have finally reached Crowley's breaking-point. he is so deeply hurt by what Aziraphale just said and did, choosing heaven over them, that the pain turns into anger because he has no other way of expressing or feeling it in the first place.

You're on your own with this one.

That last look is filled with such disappointed heartbreak, he turns around simply to give Aziraphale a chance to ask him to stay, to apologize, something. Yet again, he does not. He doesn't even meet his gaze, he is looking away.

To me, he seems almost spiteful, like this entire argument is only superficially about Gabriel but about something entirely else deeper down.

Which - that's the point, isn't it?

Crowley comes back and apologizes because Aziraphale matters more to him than stupid arguments or choosing sides, keeping him safe is the only thing he cares about when it comes down to it. He swallows down his hurt and betrayal and does what Aziraphale wants: ignoring the entire argument and pretending nothing ever happened so they can continue like before.

Only that they can't. The entire season shows just how much they cannot go back to their arrangement, no matter how hard Crowley tries to mold himself to Aziraphale's will. Their final argument simply reflects all of that and more. The same wound that first one was about gets reopened very violently and they're bleeding all over each other with no way to stop it because they're too fucking stubborn to admit that it exists in the first place.

Aziraphale and Crowley can only fix their relationship when they acknowledge the reason the rift between them opened up. Until then, Crowley feels truly rejected and Aziraphale feels entirely neglected, and there is nothing anyone can do to make them confront that.

[sv5hive]

in every universe? | cl16

pairing(s): charles leclerc x fem!reader

content warning(s): use of y/n, pretending the university of monaco has an architecture course shhhh, inaccurate architecture course information bcos i am lazy, ma**ia bin**to mention IM SORRY

word count: 2,580

note: this is my longesttt fic yet and i had so much fun writing it!! i hope you like it just as much 🫶🏻

masterlist!

"so in summary, i want to see how you will finance your project while keeping your budget in mind, any issues you may come across and their solutions, the influence behind it, how it might impact the environment and the population as well as visual aids to guide the audience. these presentations are due next month and remember! it is your responsibility to arrange times to work on the presentation together. i won't be accepting any excuses whatsoever!"

you chewed on the end of your pen at your professor's reminder as you watched everyone filter out the doors from your seat right at the back.

group projects always meant you would have to do all the work yourself just to share equal credit with everyone else in the group who didn't even attempt to contribute. this project was unlikely to be any different. it didn't help that you hadn't yet managed to make any genuine friendships with your classmates. it was understandable though, considering the expected workload at such a renowned university like monaco.

"hi, are you y/n l/n?"

too deep in your own thoughts about the assignment, you didn't realise the room had emptied completely. you also didn't realise other people apart from your professor knew your name. moving your gaze up to the source of the sound, you found a man almost too good looking to be true.

"oh, uh, yeah. yes, i am. sorry, who are you?"

with each word that escaped your mouth, you felt your face heating up. you didn't mean to be rude but you truly had no idea who you were talking to. how had you never noticed this greek god of a man in your class until now?

"i'm charles leclerc. we're in a group together for the assignment and i thought it would be a good idea to get your number so we can talk set up a time to talk about our ideas."

he held out his unlocked phone to you, inviting you to type in your number. if he was offended by your failure to recognise him it certainly didn't show which helped calm your frazzled nerves.

"oh, of course! sorry, i'm not used to someone else taking responsibility in a group project. usually i'm stuck doing everyone's work on top of my own. here you go." you replied while saving your number into his contacts.

he smiled at your admission and reassured you he wouldn't dare leave you to handle the entire project alone.

"i already have everyone else's numbers so i'll make a groupchat too. when are you free?"

as much as you would like to lie and say you had a life outside of studying, you didn't. but you would gladly say yes to any get together if it meant charles would be there too.

"honestly, i'm always free so any time works for me." you explained while packing your bag and standing up from your seat.

he grinned and walked with you towards the exit and out the building.

"yeah? how about now? there's this café i've heard is really good and i've been meaning to try it, i just haven't had the time recently."

you stopped in your tracks.

was he asking you on a date? this was definitely new. obviously you had been in a few relationships before but they had never quite managed to get you flustered like this on the first meeting.

truth be told, he had gone to that café a million times over as it was the closest one to campus that served the best croissants for cheap but you didn't need to know that.

"are you asking me on a date?" you asked, not hesitating to get straight to the point.

his grin flickered for a split second, almost in surprise at your bluntness, before growing impossibly wider.

"uh, yeah, i'm asking you on a date right now. so? what do you say?"

"hmmm, and what do i get out of it if i say yes?"

you didn't think twice about taking him up on his offer but it was fun to watch him scramble for reasons you should have a coffee with him. you watched him come up with several nonsensical arguments before you decided to put him out of his misery.

"relax, i'll go on a date with you! you should've seen your face!"

he blushed at your antics before joining in your giggles at his own expense. he had a feeling your laughter would become his favourite sound.

"what are you waiting for then? lead the way."

unsurprisingly, you two were the only ones who took part in the group project but you couldn't complain when you had such good company to help you.

"this is charles leclerc, he will be your race engineer starting from next season." your team principal fred vasseur gently pushed you away from your teammate to the new hire fresh out of internship at haas.

after the quick decline of your 2022 season, ferrari had wasted no time in sacking binotto and your less than competent engineer for much more suitably equipped individuals.

"pleasure to meet you, charles. i'm y/n l/n. are you sure you're ready for this?" you outstretch your hand to shake his.

"thank you, it's a pleasure to meet you as well, you are an inspiration to so many. i'm extremely grateful to be given this opportunity to work with such a talented driver like yourself. and yes i'm one hundred percent ready to give my everything so you can bring home some wins and maybe even the championship." he spoke with a conviction almost as if he had been practicing it in the mirror for weeks.

his hand wrapped around yours and you couldn't help but notice how warm they were even in the frigid winter. you grinned at his confidence and faith in not only himself but also the team and you as a driver. it was certainly the energy you needed after the less than impressive season that you had just wrapped up.

"i like him already! so much more positive than my last engineer. where have you been all this time?" you declared patting him on the back while looking at your team principal in approval.

he was so sure you could notice the pink tinge on his cheeks as he nervously smiled at your praise and suddenly found the carpeted floor the most interesting thing in the room to observe.

"i'm glad you two are getting along! now let's get on with this meeting. i would like to get home at a reasonable time today."

as the meeting dragged on, you found yourself staring at charles opposite you out of nothing but pure curiosity and maybe a little bit of humour. it was clear he harboured some feelings towards you that he couldn't hide no matter how hard he tried. that much was evident in the way he refused to even glance in your direction at the risk of making eye contact.

"we don't quite know how the others will perform yet but we definitely expect to be more on pace with red bull next year. this season wasn't our best but it gives us a good foundation to improve on which is better than nothing. any questions?"

even if there were any questions left unanswered everyone was much too tired to articulate them and so the meeting room fell into silence before you all said your goodbyes to each other wishing everyone a restful winter break.

you were headed out the door when you heard your name being called. you turned to see charles jogging to catch up to you and so you decided to wait for him at the exit.

"you excited for the winter break?" you strike up a conversation with him as you dawdled towards the car park together.

"yes, but i'm more excited for the season to start. i've been preparing for this my whole life. what about you? surely you're tired of being in the car?" he questioned with genuine interest.

"no, not really. i mean i've been preparing for this my whole life too. the travelling is a lot to handle but there's nothing more i enjoy than being in the car. don't get me wrong, i do like being at home too. i just love racing so much i wish i could do it all the time."

"really? you don't ever get tired of racing?" he looked over at you in wonder and you smiled at his disbelief.

"really. ever since i was a kid i've always wanted to be racing constantly. what about you? i mean pretty much all of us drivers got into the sport through karting. what made you want to be a race engineer?"

"well actually i did get into karting too. my father took me and my brothers to a local track and it all started there. i liked karting but i was always more interested in the technical side. my younger brother arthur liked it a lot though and he decided to pursue a career. he's actually stepping up to formula 2 next year."

"yeah? he must be pretty good then." you didn't recognise his brother's name because you were too busy with your own preparation every race weekend to watch the support series but you took his word for it.

"yeah, i'm really glad he's made it this far. we didn't have much money for karting when he was just starting out but we managed to make it work."

you were all too familiar with the struggles of funding and putting together enough sponsors just to make it through the season. there were already very few people getting into motorsport and the high costs didn't help. you had seen too many young talents drop out because they just couldn't afford it anymore. you were one of the lucky ones to secure a place in the ferrari driver academy and have their money to fall back on.

realising you were getting closer and closer to your car, you slowed down in hopes you could keep talking to charles for longer.

"so, why ferrari? it's a team with lots of history but we haven't won a championship since 2008." you asked with no ill intentions.

you really were just interested seeing as the team was currently the laughing stock amongst the grid and the fans - which you didn't blame them for. they had thrown away several chances of a championship with some of the most talented drivers, purely due to their own inability to perform when it was needed most.

"that doesn't matter to me. i've supported ferrari since i was little so it wasn't even a question which team i wanted to join. i remember i used to always follow the red car when they raced at monaco even before i knew it was a ferrari. anyone who has the chance to be a part of ferrari, would take that chance, no? i've barely started here but there's something special about being a part of ferrari." he explained with a look in his eyes that you could only imagine was the same wonder that appeared when watching the red ferrari of kimi räikkönen speed around his home track.

"what about you? you're the one who actually drives for ferrari so what made you sign with them?"

you stopped upon reaching your car neatly tucked inside the white lines.

"ah, i would love to tell you but i do have to get home."

charles' smile fell before he agreed, making his own excuses about his neighbours complaining of his late night ruckus he caused. both of you were disappointed at the fact you couldn't just keep talking for hours but you had another idea up your sleeve.

"but i would be happy to have dinner with you tomorrow to continue this conversation if you're free? if you want to join me that is! you don't have to."

"no, no i want to! that would be great! here's my number. i'll pick you up at 7?"

his initial plans of acting casual around you had been thrown out the window and he was already wishing for time to go faster. you couldn't help but smile at his eagerness - it was a change from your usually soulless dates who treated you like arm candy.

"great! thank you, charles, really. i haven't been this optimistic about an upcoming season in a while but you've already made me excited for the future, even though we just met. i have a feeling we're going to enjoy a lot of victories together." you admitted honestly.

you hadn't been completely happy with any of your seasons with the scuderia so far, always hungry for more despite exceeding the expectations of many.

"thank you, that's the biggest compliment i could receive. i have no doubt we can bring the team many wins."

the 2023 season went on to be one of your best performances in a time where red bull dominance was ever growing. although the championship was not quite in your firm grasp just yet, you had come closer than ever with the help of new management and, more importantly, charles. this was simply the beginning for you two.

"hey charles?" you called out looking up from your phone screen to find him pulling on his race suit.

"yes, mon ange?" he replied turning to face you sitting on the tiny bed.

even though you two had been dating for years, him and his pet names never failed to fluster you.

"do you think we're soulmates in every universe?" you asked after seeing the tik tok trend appear on your phone.

you weren't really expecting a serious answer from charles. you knew it was a silly theory but you decided to entertain the thought. however it seemed that charles had a different idea.

"maybe, maybe not. i'd like to think we are but even if we're not, that doesn't matter. what matters is that we're together in this one, no? besides, even if we weren't destined to be together, i'd still find you and choose you in every universe." he voiced casually, placing a soft kiss on your forehead while looking around the room for his racing boots.

his confessions of undying love to you had become a daily occurrence and it was always certain his words would make your heart melt.

"you've seen the trend, haven't you?" you questioned him. there was no way he had just come up with that answer on the spot.

"what trend? mon amour, you know i am not on social media as much as you are."

"the tik tok trend! are you sure you haven't seen it?"

"yes, i am very sure, mon ange. come on, i don't need to see a tik tok to tell you that i will always choose you."

you didn't fully believe him but you also knew that he was a terrible liar, his facial expressions giving him away no matter what with each attempt made.

"come here. one last good luck kiss for me?" he asked with a pleading look you could never deny and pulled you from the bed by your arms.

"of course, my love. i want you back safe in one piece, ok?" you held his face in your hands and placed a delicate kiss on his forehead, nose, each cheek and finally, his lips.

"anything for you."

[fandomfluffandfuck]

(Ignore the fact that this is a screenshot of this ask, lmao, I posted this before I was ready on accident (my app updated and I pressed post rather than safe as a draft because the buttons moved and I'm dumb like that, lol) and didn't have time right then to write what I wanted to for this so I just screen-shotted, then deleted the original post. It's fine, haha. It's here now.)

This reminded me of a fic I wrote a while ago! It's not big dick Steve and it's not mocking in a fun way (in the past, instead, people have been cruel about such a big dick), but... it's big dick Bucky who gets lightheaded when he gets a hard one with size queen Steve praising him and making him feel like no one else, so I just think it's something you might enjoy as well:

"Strangers Who Fit Together More Like Soulmates"

Now, though, YES, we can talk about big dick Steve who gets light-headed and thoughtless whenever he's hard:

If Bucky were feeling confessional, he would describe the way he feels like this--luxuriously pressing his chest up against Steve's broad back and gluing his hips to bubble butt--and, oh, boy, is it a lot of feeling. He can feel the slow, thick rush of his blood through his body, turning the heat up to a feverish, summer level--the kind of summer night that you spend sweating, lying back on your bed over top of your sheets. After all, it's that humid and sticky. So hot that you're thinking about how bad it would really be if some monster came up and snagged your uncovered ankle because... it can't fucking be as bad as this heat. He's fucking hot.

Sweating.

Bucky can feel that, too, his sweat pooling on his skin underneath his clothes. Steve has to be sweating, too. They're going to have to peel apart...eventually. But more pressingly than the heat and sweat and flush afflicting him, he can feel the strain and twinge in his wrist. His muscles ache as he grips and strokes, jacking Steve off while he pretends to be able to wash the dishes. And Bucky hasn't even been at this teasing torture for long!

You'd think after so many months of getting so, so intimately aquatinted with Steve's monster cock, that his body would be used to it. But his body isn't--it still doesn't know what's hit it because he's colliding, regularly, with a fucking semi-truck. Bucky doesn't stand a chance.

With another handful of fast, sloppy strokes that tease more than feel satisfying, Steve sways forward into the counter with a low, aching noise. It's like a tree threatening to fall, Bucky swears it. His big, big body and matching cock. Bucky could climb him like a tree if not for how unsteady Steve gets whenever he's turned on.

The way he twitches and weakens leaves Bucky's arm pinned between Steve's body and the counter, one of the sharp points of Steve's hips and the equally sharp edge of the countertop dig into Bucky. He doesn't care. He's ignoring that ache alongside the lactic acid building up in his muscles--that acid, too, stokes the flames inside him, he burns hot--Bucky murmurs, husky into Steve's ear, "biiiiig boy, yeah, that's it." He won't stop teasing him, no matter how much his arm complains or how stuck it gets.

Instead, Bucky switches tactics, he didn't start this ambush for nothing. So, he squeezes him with his whole hand. He can't touch all of him like this, but it doesn't matter. More than a handful. Regardless, it's more than enough for Steve to be gripped and grabbed based on how he jerks forward quickly, gasping low, under his breath with a barely there huff of, "Buck-!"

Bucky pays his breathy sound no mind, replacing it in the tension-thick air between them with his own words, "I fucking love feeling you swell up in my hand," Steve moans, dropping a thankfully plastic container with a clatter, "gimme it, baby," Bucky goads him, hyping him up, giving up the pretense of just an innocent reach-around-and-cop-a-feel to an all-out fuck-session. "Gimme it. I wanna feel it." Bucky squeezes his hand around his shaft under his sweatpants. Steve's gone from soft and sweet to solid and thick so fast that Bucky's fingers no longer meet around his dick. "One day," Bucky muses, stretching onto his tip-toes to whisper right in Steve's ear, letting his lips brush his skin just a little, just enough to make him shudder, "I'm gonna shove you in me when you're half hard and I'm just gonna sit on this fat cock," Bucky squeezes unforgivingly until Steve makes a stupid guh sound, punched-out, "feeling it get bigger in me."

Steve shivers again, this time more intense. Oh, yeah, he's getting weaker.

Bucky nips at the hot shell of his ear, already turning red. How he still has enough blood in his body to blush while his cock fills up so heavy and thick will remain a mystery to Bucky.

"How's that sound, huh?" He teases.

Steve just whimpers.

Bucky had to get on his tip-toes before, but he relaxes now because Steve is falling, slowly, uncontrollably slouching down the counter. He'll end up on the floor if Bucky keeps going, getting dizzy as his blood finally decides it all has to go where Bucky wants it... in this nice, fat dick.

There's no harm in speeding the process up, making him dizzy, "you're such a slut with this huge thing, getting it up so fast, so often."

"Buck!" Steve gasps again, his muscle-bound body pressed so harshly against the restricted pressure and friction of Bucky's hand in his pants that Bucky starts to feel sharp tingles in his fingers, pins and needles that somehow make the silky hard sensation of Steve's dick in his hand sweeter.

"I can't believe you. I can't believe how slutty you are," Bucky kisses the nape of his neck lushly, then he scrapes his teeth against the top bump of his spine when Steve lets his head hang, the rest of him wilting as his dick swells. "Do you know how eager you are? You'll fucking crumble to your knees for me any time, any day, all I gotta do is get that blood flowing south and you're a goner, babyy--"

Steve inhales so shakily it sounds like he's at the end of a really good cry.

Perfect.

Bucky uses his weakness, his going limp, to his advantage, curling his other hand around his cinched waist to pull him back--giving himself more room to work. That way his hand doesn't tingle so much as he works hard to stroke all the way up and all the way down that big fucking gun he's packing in his sweats. Armed and dangerous.

Steve, with this little (not so little) head talking louder than his big head, lets him move him. Mold him. Stroke him. Jerk him off. Faster. harder.

He slouches another inch. his hands have long since stopped trying to clean their dishes, instead, wet and sudsy, he's gripping the edges of the sink for dear life.

"Should I get you a fainting couch, big guy?" The more he talks, the wider Bucky's Cheshire smile stretches. He's sure he looks feral, how could he not? The weight of his dick in his hand, more and more of Steve's whole body weight pressing back against Bucky, leaning into his chest, letting him have it all. "'Cause we sure as shit need something to catch you when you fall every time I bend over and you see my ass? You fuckin' horndog."

Steve scrambles, suddenly, to touch him. His dish-water-soaked, red-hot hands the size of dinner plates wrap themselves around both of Bucky's forearms. Bucky feels the squeeze as he jerks him slower but harder, much less teasing and more pleasuring. Steve is unsteady. Bucky is all that's holding him up and he won't be able to for long, he's fucking heavy. When his cock twitches in his grip once, twice, leaving Bucky with a mouth full of drool, he starts taking his big guy toward the living room. Walking slow and carefully--pushing really. Pushing this fucking tank toward the nearest soft place for him to crash.

"I can't fucking believe you, big boy," Bucky's mouth runs as he goes, "where do you keep this thing?" As he says it, he goes alllll the way from the base to the tip. Bucky still can't believe how long and how thick he is. He feels like it's a fucking joke. When he first saw Steve naked, he couldn't pick his jaw up off the floor. He thought, o-fucking-kay, you're a show-er then? But as he got to touch and taste and explore, running wild. And it turns out Steve's actually a grower, and then Bucky couldn't only not close his mouth but he couldn't speak. He couldn't fit the whole thing in his mouth and stuffed down his throat either.

"How do you fit it in your pants?" The questions pour out as they get into the living room, Steve stumbling worse now, dizzier. He wouldn't be able to differentiate up from down if he tried, Bucky's pretty sure. The only up and down he knows is Bucky's fist fighting to stretch around his cock, Bucky's mouth gaping to suck him down, Bucky's asshole struggling to swallow him whole. Up and down, up and down, up and down--bouncing on that unreal cock. "How do you fit it in me? I can't believe you do, every time I look at it. Jesus Christ."

For such a big guy, his voice is so cute and small, mewling, whining, and pawing at him with clumsy hands, trying to get him to do more than talk and jerk him off. He wants faster. He wants more. Slut.

"It's good you go so dumb, baby," Bucky murmurs, taking his hands off him and throwing him onto their couch instead. Tiiiimber, Bucky snickers to himself, watching him bounce on the couch. The springs squeak and Steve whimpers, writhing with the unfair treatment. Why'd you stop?, those huge puppy dog eyes, rimmed red, threatening to spill tears, ask. "'Cause if you didn't get so dumb, you'd get some big ideas of doing the work, wouldn't you?"

Steve's too out of it to nod, but it doesn't matter. Bucky doesn't need his silly little input, all he needs is that cock, that gorgeous body, and the stupid expression on his face--eyelids heavy, mouth slack, cheeks hot.

Out. of. it.

"And we can't have that!" He bites, teasing as he climbs onto Steve's prone, sprawled form, straddling his tree-trunk thighs and unceremoniously shoving his sweats down just to watch that horse cock bounce up and slap his clenching tummy. Steve's chest heaves, a wail ripped out of him and causing him to almost double over. Bucky shoves him back, "if you're thinking, you're trying to finger me open and you're just too impatient with a dick like that."

Steve makes some garbled noise, it sounds like he's drowning.

Bucky chuckles, half-amusement, half-breath, throwing his head back with it. He's enjoying himself so fucking much, his hands working that cock and his hips grinding against Steve's solid thigh. "I gotta stretch myself open for you with a dick like what you got. I, I gotta drag it out," he pauses to moan, still grinding, "'cause I'd split at the seams with dick if I didn't get nice and loose for you."

Steve bucks underneath him, nearly throwing him off. It just makes Bucky chuckle more--more moan and breath in the sound. He's so sweet and dumb. Nothing matters to him like this, blissed out, and it's so easy to get him here that it's a wonder Bucky doesn't keep him like this all the time. Yeah, that sounds good, a living, breathing, fuck-machine.

There's no lube over here, though, so unfortunately, Bucky can't start getting sloppy and loose for his human dildo. He'll just have to do the next best thing and jack him off until he cums, then, once he's pumping buckets all over himself, Bucky can scoop it up and use it, along with all his eager, slippery pre-cum to slick himself up so Steve can fill him fuller. More dick. More cum.

It won't be hard to get Steve there--

"If only that brain was as big as that big dick, hm, sweetie? Then maybe you could actually get something done rather than just letting me lead you around by the cock."

Steve whines roughly.

--yeah. No sweat. Give Bucky a challenge, c'mon.

[yrrtyrrtwhenihrrthrrt]

Little known Nev Fact, I used to be an RA because my family couldn't afford for me to go to University unless my housing was covered for at least one year (technically two, but thanks to Rona I didn't have to pay for housing for the other year without being an RA lmao) so I was an RA for a year

For my non-US friends who don't know, an RA is basically a dorm cop. You mediate conflict between roommates/suitemates, patrol the building at night to bust parties and tell people to be quiet (I typically only told people to be quiet if I got a complaint from other students, and I only busted a party once because the RA I was on rounds with was a fucking narc. I was happy to pretend I didn't see those Budweisers) and tell people to put their masks on (this was right after Rona) and we also would be required to host campus events. Anyway, I hated it.

So tell me why now I, in a student apartment with 3 fully grown women, have to act as RA again. Today I had to whip out the "Hey girlies!" In the group chat to tell them to stop

1. Stealing my freezer space (we each get an equally sized drawer in the freezer and yet one girl keeps filling mine to the brink after reaching capacity in her own, without asking)

2. Leaving the kitchen disgusting (leaving oily, dirty pots on the stove for hours, leaving grease and food on the stove and counters, etc) and

3. Piling all their shit across what little counter space we have leaving zero room to wash dishes or prep food.

I'd also like to point out that 90% of this is one girl, who is a sweet cutesy little shy nerd when you interact with her face to face, yet has commandeered the entire kitchen for the absolutely insane amount of food she buys and cooks. Bitch is prepping for Armageddon. Anyway me and my one flatmate have been bitching about it for weeks so I had to send a 3 paragraph text in the group chat that can be summed in "hi girlies! Stop being gross and selfish!"

Anyway.

[aladaylessecondblog]

the final threshold (enver gortash x good tav)

TW: Sex, oral, Tav feels guilty and is hearing Astarion and Halsin's voices.

Hope you enjoy this, I'm up way too late posting it

-----------------------------------

Tav was thankful to change out of the bridal gown and into something less restrictive, though with it came the downside of being told she would be at Gortash's side for most of the reception.

As the only one close enough to hear them closely was a Steel Watcher, as she held to his arm and waved at a cheering crowd of commoners, she spoke to him through a false smile. "How they don't see through this is a mystery to me."

Through an equally false smile did Gortash's reply come, "The people see what they want to see. And what they want to see right now is us enjoying ourselves."

She couldn't say he was wrong, as they turned from the balcony and walked back into the fortress.

The clanking sounds of the Steel Watcher echoed in the hall as it followed behind them.

"You'll find," he went on, "That they are easy to fool in that way."

"I know what your plan was, and I've seen the posters of your smirking face all over Rivington," Tav replied, "And I've heard them sing your praises from one end of the city to the other."

"And yours, of course. Naturally one hero would enjoy the company of another."

As they neared the door to the reception hall, he lay a hand over the one of hers that was on his arm.

"You're doing admirably, my dear. Simply keep pretending to be the happy, blushing bride a little while longer. Then you can drop the pretense."

Stop being polite, she thought, Be the bastard I know you are. That will make this easier.

The doors opened for them, and Tav took a deep breath as she followed him in.

----------------------------

Tav barely had time to eat before the dancing began. Her first had been with Gortash, and while he sat down to eat, the next was with Wyll.

"Karlach's already left, in case you were looking for her," he said quietly as they moved in a slow circle, "She tried to put up with it, but...you know her. To see you even pretending to be happy about this, with him..."

"I know. Where did you say she was going? I believe Gortash mentioned Moonrise Towers?"

"It seemed fitting," Wyll replied with a slight shrug, "At least, that's what he told me. Her own fortress, her own property, as a sort of...consolation prize. Jaheira...well, she's not happy about this little alliance of ours, but she trusts Karlach, so...they're going to lead a little troop of tieflings and refugees back there to build it into something 'special' again."

"She's gone too." Tav kept her face neutral but asked, "Am I going to lose all of you?"

"It looks like it. Gale is planning to go with them...Minsc, well, where Jaheira goes now, he follows." Another few turns and he added, "At least I won't be too far away."

"Yes, but--" she took in a shaky breath. "I had hoped at least one of you would...would stay. I mean, I have Scratch and the owlbear, but..."

"It can't be today," Wyll replied in a low tone as the dance ended, "But if he mistreats you, if you want out...merely send a letter mentioning the grave we dug for Astarion and Halsin."

She thanked him for his concern, and was able to sit out the next dance. Unfortunately, it was done sitting beside Gortash.

"I don't see any of your friends here besides the Grand Duke," he said quietly, after draining half a glass of wine, "Whatever happened to them?"

"They've already left," Tav replied evenly, sipping at her own glass. "Karlach is not best pleased by all this, as I'm sure you understand."

"Of course. And the rest?"

"Are going with her."

"A pity." He gave a small sound in his throat almost like a laugh and set his glass back down. "Her I could understand, but the rest...I thought surely their concern for you might outweigh their dislike of me."

Tav did not reply, and finished her glass.

The dance they were watching concluded; Gortash stood and extended his hand to her for the next.

"We have a crowd to please, my dear," he said in a tone slightly louder than normal, "It seems we must make ourselves a display once again."

She didn't want to, but she took his hand and moved onto the dance floor once again.

"You don't have to keep doing that," not meeting his eyes as she whispered, "Stop--pretending to be so--"

"Nice? Polite? ...charming?" Gortash gave a little smirk and leaned momentarily close enough to make a whisper of his own against her ear. "Can't a man enjoy his bride?"

Then he drew back.

"You'll be taking enough from me tonight as it is--" Tav started, but went quiet as they moved too near another couple.

"You wound me, Tav," he went on, "Really, now, what kind of monster do you think I am?"

"Do you want the reasons in the order they happened, or alphabetically?"

"Please," Gortash huffed and moved back to raise his arm and spin her in a slow circle before coming forward again, "You are far too valuable to mistreat, and you've taken care of more than a few problems for me. You are grieving a loss, but..."

"Do NOT," Tav seethed as quietly as possible, "Ever. Mention that to me again."

The dance ended soon after, and she pasted a smile back on.

"The point, my lady," Gortash brought one of her hands up to press a kiss to her fingers, and met her eyes as he did it, "You have nothing to fear from me."

She would almost have preferred if she did.

-------------------------------------------------

In a similar vein did the rest of the reception pass away. At some point, however, Gortash lead her away amidst a few jokes about drow from his titled noblemen.

Tav ignored them, and was silent all the way back to what she assumed would be their quarters. An opulent and almost gaudy room, full of silks and expensive furnishings and quite possibly the largest bed she'd ever seen.

Stay calm. This will be the easy part...you just have to ignore who you're doing it with.

"Your room is through that door," Gortash gestured to a door on the far side of the room, "You'll find your new wardrobe already settled in it, along with...the rest of your belongings."

Then he moved towards a desk on the other side of the bed.

"I suppose once I've changed you will--take your rights?"

"We've no need for that," he said, already taking a seat, "At least not tonight. It's not as if anyone is going to demand a bloody sheet...not that we could provide one."

"You are the first man I've ever met that wasn't eager to get to it," Tav walked to the other side of the bed, the side nearest the desk, and leaned back against the overlarge comforter. "Most men would jump at the chance."

"And you call ME arrogant," Gortash replied. He seemed to be flipping through papers and sketches--Tav recognized a few blueprints as Steel Watchers. "Men like me do not have time to indulge overmuch in carnal pleasures."

"Do you not like women?"

"Of course I do, I simply have not the obsession with sex that other men do. If I had a preference for men," he spoke shortly as he flipped over one blueprint for another, "You and I would have a very different sort of arrangement right now."

"I wouldn't have agreed to be your broodmare."

"But you would have for men far less suited to fatherhood."

"They would have been wonderful--"

It was a knife in her heart, to confront her with the idea. Tav stumbled over the sentence and let it trail off as the thought and the images of Astarion and Halsin cascaded through her mind. Perhaps a temporary look of fear in Astarion's eyes, to be replaced by a smug surety, and Oh, my dear, of COURSE a seed of mine has taken root.

Then Halsin came to mind.

Cubs, my heart? What wonderful news!.

Tav shut her eyes and gulped at the thought, only glad that Gortash hadn't noticed. She wanted the images to stop, the voices to go away. She wanted silence again.

And she could think of only one way to do that right now.

"If you change your mind," she said, "I--you know where to find me."

He didn't respond, and despite everything it grated at her. Was she not worth even looking at, now he had what he wanted? Perhaps now he had her alone, he could stop pretending he actually wanted this as well. She was only there as a tool, after all, a part of his plan to continue ruling over Baldur's Gate. The blessed lady to do the charity he had no desire to involve himself in. Eventually he would need an heir, and perhaps THEN--

If I am going to be stuck with this horrible man I have to at least make him want me.

She hated Gortash, hated all that he was and did, but she hated the idea of being alone even more. Being alone meant quiet, and quiet meant that thoughts of her two loves would drift in. And that--

Darling, you can't pine over us forever, Astarion's voice seemed to sound off in Tav's head as she retreated to her room. I know I'm worth remembering, but you never smile when you think of me now.

Nor I. It is the way of nature to take after giving. Let us go, Halsin's voice echoed soon after. Let us go, thrive, and make good from all the bad you find yourself surrounded with. As you always do.

Her own room was smaller, if a little less richly decorated than Gortash's. There were spiderlike touches in the curtains of the bed and one of the rugs, and everything in general seemed to have a darker tone. Someone had been told to do some work, clearly, and had probably heard "drow" and gone off that alone.

"M'lady?"

The voice belonged to a maid who appeared to be dusting the desk in the corner. A chubby dwarf woman, who gave a quick bow when Tav looked at her.

"And--who are you?"

"Berlina, m'lady," the woman said, "Your chambermaid. His lordship wanted things made ready for you, and I was handling that, only I didn't--expect you would be here so early. That is, I thought you would be...busy."

"His lordship is tired out from the day," Tav said, inwardly hating how easy it was to slip into this role, "If you're not done cleaning, that's fine, I have spent long enough on the road that anything is cleaner than a tent."

"If you'd like a bath, one's being drawn now."

The second she was able, she went right to the bath, whereupon she cleaned up and tried not to relax too much.

Imagine the trouble we could get into here...

I would never feel comfortable here. Give me a river and a bar of soap, I need no tub but what nature provides.

Again, the voices, and again, the stab of pain. Tav sucked in a sharp breath and tried not to focus on them as she washed up. She looked instead at the advancing loss of her dark skin...it had stopped when she hit adulthood, but since the tadpole got into her head there had been an additional loss of color around her hands. The fingers of her left hand had lost their color entirely, where before there had been at least some drow-dark skin and her thumb had been wholly so.

On her legs, her stomach, even her face, the spreading loss was obvious.

Your skin is beautiful, my heart.

Our patchwork doll, Astarion's voice followed up. It only showed the world that the bear and I had something special.

"Just leave me be," Tav said quietly, rubbing her eyes, "Why do you haunt me still?"

Because you will not let us go.

She finished bathing and dried off. The moment she had fastened the belt of the robe she'd grabbed Berlina reappeared.

"M'lady, I'm sorry to bother you, but--"

"Is something wrong?"

"Well, no," she said, "Only, his lordship--ah--has requested your company."

That didn't take long. Perhaps he realized what he was missing, turning you down.

Tav took a deep breath and crossed her bedroom to walk back into Gortash's, though she half expected this to be a ruse for...something, she wasn't sure what. She kept one hand behind her back as she walked back in, ready to cast a spell...just in case. No armor, and nothing but the robe and the choker with the netherstone. She felt more bare than she actually was...

Gortash was no longer at the desk in his full and regular armor, or robe, or whatever it had been. He was on the other side of the bed, leaning back against it as she had done.

Only now, he wasn't in his usual robe.

Just a pair of black trousers.

(She hated the stirring thought that the sight of his bare chest gave.)

"You changed your mind," Tav said flatly, "One might wonder why."

She refused to look at him, but walked slowly forward.

"One might wonder why all the fools of this city are not as...compliant...as you. Perhaps I simply needed a reminder of that in the form of...well, it's not your concern, really." There was a definite smugness in Gortash's tone, "Do you so eagerly offer yourself up to every man you meet? Should I be worried that my new wife will consider a career at Sharess's Caress?"

"I made vows. I intend to keep them."

There was a pause. Gortash seemed to be waiting for something.

"Do as you wish," Tav finally said, "So long as I don't have to look you in the eye."

"Drop the robe."

His tone was not especially cruel, but definitely meant to remind her which of them was in charge. He'd said he wouldn't mistreat her, so why--?

He's one of THOSE types, she realized. I can work with this.

Tav untied the belt of her robe and shrugged it off. The fabric pooled at her feet, leaving her now wearing only the velvet necklace that held the netherstone. The look of appraisal was followed soon after by a wicked grin.

When she stepped forward again, Gortash's hands came up and pulled her close against him, directly into a heated kiss--

The bridge is crossed, the thought came. You can't go back now.

Tav returned the kiss somewhat gingerly, moving her hands up to his shoulders as the taste of the wine they'd both drunk crossed her tongue once again. He raised his hands to the back of her head, keeping her in place as his tongue pushed past her lips, tangling--

He broke the kiss just as she was about to, let them both breathe, and moved in again.

It was more fervent this time, and repeated when she broke for air again, and then the third time too. When she pulled back a fourth time he smirked against her lips, "I wonder what else that mouth can do?"

"Whatever you want it to do," Tav said quietly, "Or did you call me in here just to admire the thing you put your name on?"

Oh, very good, kitten...

"I remain shocked," Gortash growled, but not in an angry way, as his hands moved down to her hips and squeezed tightly at her ass, "That you weren't already working at Sharess's Caress."

She was pulled closer still, and at this point if she had remained unconvinced he preferred women, the bulge in his trousers would have done the job.

"They've already got a couple drow anyway."

Be witty. Be compliant, but resist just slightly, to keep him wanting. Make him happy, and you'll have the only friend that matters in this wretched city.

The dominant is dominant for a reason, after all.

"Kneel," he said suddenly, "And show me why I've made a good choice."

As she obeyed his hands were back up. As she shifted to get into a comfortable position there was the sound of his belt, which dropped to the floor soon after. The trousers lowered just enough--

"How long are you going to make me wait?" she asked.

Gortash silenced her a moment later by pressing the tip of his cock to her lips. One hand, the hand with his glove, moved to the back of her head and gripped--but not painfully--at her hair.

Tav hesitated only a moment. Then she wrapped her lips around the tip and slowly moved her head down until she'd taken all of him. He moaned softly, and as she started to move he didn't seem to feel the need to do anything more.

"Ahh, yes, good," he groaned, "We are going to be quite happy...I can see that\."

(She hated--hated, hated--how wet she already was.)

Tav groaned around his cock and began to bob her head more quickly. He groaned and his fingers tightened, bringing with them a slight sting in the back of her head. She expected him to make some quip about how she must have done this for someone else--but he didn't.

She pulled back, teased at the underside of his cock's head with her tongue, and was rewarded with another groan. Then she moved back down again, but more slowly than before.

"So--eager--"

When she'd taken all of him, her nose pressed firmly against his lower abdomen, she heard something else. Something low, a whisper she was obviously not meant to hear.

"Gods..."

The grip in her hair turned to iron, and Tav would have smirked had her mouth not been otherwise occupied. A moment later, he started moving against her head, not letting her do the work any longer.

"You are...a talented woman...aren't you?"

Tav couldn't answer.

"I wonder what those companions of yours would say if they could see you now," Gortash's voice was less shaky here. More certain, more devious. "On your knees...for ME."

Another pause, a pull back that let her breathe, that let a dangling string of pre hang in the barest distance between her lips and the tip of his cock.

"They would think you'd made me do it."

"Perhaps. But I'm not making you do any of this." He paused and started speaking again, punctuating each word with another thrust. "Yet. here. we. ARE."

Tav thought he would keep going, and brought her tongue up as best she could, hoping to have him finish now from its caresses over him. But as he pulsed in her mouth, the very second she thought he would finish--

Gortash pulled back, exposing his by now well-sucked cock to the open air.

She breathed hard for a few moments.

"Up--" he demanded quickly, "--now."

Tav stood, then found herself suddenly turned and pressed against the edge of the bed. A slight lift and now she was seated on it. He spread her legs, brought his other hand forward--

Do it quickly. I want to be senseless. I want to--

For just a moment there was a sensation of horror.

You want to forget us, my pet?

The first stroke of his fingers found her wet and ready, and she loathed how good they felt against her. The first moan she could suppress easily, but when in his slow exploration he brushed over her clit--

--her body jerked involutarily, and the moan would not be held back so easily.

"Mmm," Gortash gave a dark chuckle against her jaw as his fingertips pressed against the spot again, "So that's where it is."

A firmer touch now, a press down, and Tav choked back a groan he still half-heard, as well as a sudden sharp breath he definitely did.

"Already willing," he said, stroking steadily now, whispering in her ear with his five o' clock shadowed cheek pressed against her smooth one, "Already eager. How long have you wanted this?"

"Stop--teasing--"

"That's half the fun," he replied, seeming amused at how tightly Tav was gripping the sheets beneath her. "And if you hadn't done your job so well, perhaps I'd indulge in it more."

Those fingers, those devilish fingers, he pushed them forward, knuckle-deep, in one swift movement.

"Oh..." Tav didn't even bother trying to hold back the moan then.

(For a moment...just a moment, the pleasure blocked out all the unpleasantness that threatened to drown her mind)

"Tell me...you want it," Gortash whispered slowly, "Or is this all an act?"

Back his hand came, leaving her empty--empty, and infuriatingly needy. She hated him and craved him by turns.

"I've changed my mind," he said, pressing closer, his cock not an inch away from thrusting inside her, "This is the moment that makes me ask what they would think."

Gortash gave her no time to reply. A breath later he thrust forward, and Tav let out a moan that would make the brothels proud. Then a whimper at his size, the way his cock stretched her.

(She'd taken bigger, why was he--)

It was overwhelming, the sudden rush of pleasure, and it only grew as he began to thrust in earnest. She let herself fall back and look up at him in a haze of lusty heat, almost welcomed the touch of his hands on her breasts, the hard thrust that practically took her breath away.

Harder, she thought, Take the pain away. Make the voices leave me be.

As if he'd heard her, Gortash started to move more quickly.

"Gods--"

It was her who said it this time, but she couldn't even try to keep it quiet.

(The voices were finally gone)

Tav felt the end leap and then fall away suddenly. A moment later Gortash's hands were on either side of her head and he'd come down, his chest pressed close against hers; his lips hovering and ghosting his breath hotly over her neck. She crossed her legs behind him, feeling both the growing tenseness and a growing dread.

This is going to make it real. This is the point of no return.

The thought was momentarily chilling.

If you let him do it--

After a sudden, unbearable plateauing of the ecstasy, it broke all at once. She called out--shuddered beneath him as the fire seized her, brought her to that fine point of the seat of lust for a glorious five or six seconds, and then let her fall away again.

He'd started to move back, but Tav tightened the grip of her legs around him--he gave a sudden strangled groan and then his whole body jerked.

It was over.

They lay there together, breathing hard for a minute or two before Gortah stood back up and withdrew from her.

Tav couldn't make herself look at him, was glad he didn't seem interested in making her.

You let him spill inside you. You can't go back now.

"Well," he mused in a tired voice that sounded nevertheless highly pleased, "If that is what my lady brings to the table, she shall find her lord an eager lover indeed."

What would they think of you now, if they saw you? They'd be disgusted with you, as they should be, she thought.

"Come now, my lady," Gortash said, "We should get some rest. I believe we've had enough excitement for one day. But...do be sure and let me know if you'd like any more."

Gods, I hate you, Tav thought, but when a stab of guilt pierced her mind, she could only add, But I think I hate myself more.

[snarky-wallflower]

for those who are lost at sea

Word Count: 2106

Hershey, sometimes I can barely get out of bed. Sometimes the only thing fueling me is the fact that my Satellite will save so many people like my father. That no one will ever be stranded out in the ocean, that deep blue sea that's deeper than any expanses of space to me. That no one will ever have to watch their father sink into those depths-- swallowed entirely. Watch him disappear, know that he didn't know his place in the world when he died. OR A letter Nova never sent to Hershey.

(A plaque, found at the Smithsonian National Museum of American History: 

A LETTER FROM DAME ANNA HANOVER, TO SIR JOHN HERSCHEL

September 1834

Measures 11 inches by 5 inches, 4 pages. Written using a black fountain pen (see exhibit 4), on parchment paper.  

This letter contains words from Dame Anna Hanover, seemingly never sent to her friend, Sir John Herschel, while he worked at The Cape of Good Hope. It is one of the only records we have on just why she decided to build the Satellite, a peek into the mind of a true scientific genius. It goes over her deep friendship with her scientific equal, and talks of her history previous to the Satellite’s construction.)

Dear Hershey, 

I can’t sleep. I’m writing because I hardly know what else to do about it. 

I know, I know–that’s hardly new for either of us, isn’t it? I remember when we used to take turns hauling each other off to sleep in university. Telling each other that the exams could wait, that we would fail either way if we were falling asleep in the middle of the lessons. You used to get this constipated expression as I had to tug at your coat in order to get you to rest. I’m half-convinced you still do—what I would give to have a portrait of it! It truly was a ridiculous look.

I suppose we both knew we’d never stop. But that didn’t mean we couldn’t get each other to take care of ourselves. 

I’m not with you, and I am awake. And since I cannot speak with you late into the night, distracting myself from such things, I must do the next best thing. I may not get your wry comments, or your half-laugh when I say something witty, or the way your brow furrows as you think over a problem I have proposed. All I have right now is this pen, and memories of those times. 

So, how is the Cape of Good Hope? How does your map of the stars fare? Do they invite you to those ridiculous parties there, all those stuffed shirts that hold our funding in their pockets? I don’t miss those parties. Honestly, you getting this project so far away truly has saved my soul there–

Oh. 

Oh, I don’t–I don’t know if I can continue pretending as if everything is normal. Even if only in a letter. My mind is a whirlwind, Hershey, and the only thing that even partially calms it is these words. Writing down, documenting what exactly has happened to me. 

I know exactly why I can’t sleep, and I just–

(The words become illegible here, through heavy scribbles.)

Damn it. 

I don’t plan to send this, so what should I care about here? It’s nothing but throwing my feelings into the void? I need to write this down, to say something about this before I scream aloud. 

Tonight was the anniversary of my Father’s death. 

And it was a day like any other. 

I didn’t even realise until halfway through the day. I was so caught up in checking the flywheels, making sure the bricks were not crumbling. Organising the workers, because you know I don’t rest when it comes to that. Tasks I’d completed a thousand times over, a steady routine. We’re still relatively well-staffed, so I was mostly just checking over work, encouraging the bricklayers. 

But, while I was in my place in the Township, I saw the sea from my window. 

I saw the waves swirling and rippling, and felt my heart freeze, icy seawater seeming to wave over my heart. 

I was thrown back to all those years ago. I feel I must have gone light-headed, as a thousand memories of that day burned through my mind in an instant. I don’t even remember the next couple of minutes–by the time I came back to myself, I was gasping on the chair of my room, trying to get back steady breath. 

I didn’t get much more work done after that. 

It’s been seventeen years and yet, I still feel my heart sink and sway whenever this day comes around, when I remember just how long it’s been. 

That’s why I’m writing this letter. After all, I ran out of tequila a couple of days ago, and haven't bothered to replenish it.

I miss you. I know why you’re gone, and I know that I can run this project by myself. That’s not why I need you. You’ve called me indomitable, and I know I live up to that. I don’t lie to myself, Hershey. The project is working, and every day I grow closer to seeing that new Polaris brightening the night sky. 

Instead, I miss having someone I could truly talk to. Spend hours speaking on the stars, on celestial astrophysics, on just how far we still have to go. On old memories of university, of those horrible parties we were both forced to attend, but made bearable simply by your presence. I miss being able to talk about my grief, even if I’ve never been brave enough to tell you its full extent. 

Who else is there to tell?

Because I certainly cannot speak to Charles about such things! That man hates everyone and everything in this place. I swear, every time I’m left alone with him, I grow closer to knocking him over the head with one of my heavier books. If I hear him muttering about Americans one more time—

Ugh, I’m getting off track. Perhaps I would rather focus on something else, but these feelings will consume me if I let them. So I cannot do anything but write.

I work above everyone else here. While I may be friendly, this is not the sort of thing you can tell a casual friend. My grief fuels me, just as it makes it harder to truly function some days. How do you explain that? Even with science on my side, I’ve never been able to say all of it aloud. 

Hershey, sometimes I can barely get out of bed. Sometimes the only thing fueling me is the fact that my Satellite will save so many people like my father. That no one will ever be stranded out in the ocean, that deep blue sea that's deeper than any expanses of space to me. That no one will ever have to watch their father sink into those depths-- swallowed entirely. Watch him disappear, know that he didn't know his place in the world when he died. 

God. 

I think that's the deepest blow of them all. I had to watch his eyes lose their light, his confidence replaced by fear and confusion. He had always known where to go, what to do, what next to say–but did he, really? Or is that just a child’s fantasy? A little girl’s dream, believing that her father would never falter? 

I’ve lived so much longer without him than I did with him. 

He’ll never know the woman I became. He’ll never know that I never abandoned my dream of the sciences, never fell for a man. He’ll never get the chance to truly know me, because I wasn’t even fully formed when I lost him. I was still becoming, still changing–and yet, he died only knowing a version of me that quite possibly no longer exists. Every time I think about it too long, Hershey, I swear it’s like I’m adrift again, the waves crashing over my small form. Being stabbed with blades of seawater. 

I do this all for him, and he will never know it. He will never know the woman his daughter became. I believe that he would have still loved me, still cared for me. But I’ll never know for sure, will I? 

Sometimes, I wake up and I'm back on that sea. Clinging to that driftwood like it's my only tether to the world. I was just as lost as my father, really. I was just the one who got to survive. Kicking, kicking, kicking, frantically trying to move towards a land that I wasn't quite sure existed.

I nearly gave up, Hershey. I was a child. Not even a decade past of life, having just lost–my world. My everything. I had nothing but my books, my father, and his crew - a life spent at sea, sailing the Caribbean, gone forever. Before that night, I believed that the sea was a home. That the waves would never overwhelm me, that they’d always bring me back to shore safely. 

I’ll never be that little girl again. There’s a reason I bring navigation gear everywhere, you know. …well, of course you don’t know. Sorry, Hershey. 

Every day, I wonder how I found the strength to survive it. You don't know how tight of a grip exhaustion can have on your heart, swirling around your skull, lulling you into letting go of everything you know. Until everything you have ever loved is gone in one storm. Those who are lost, never found again. 

But even as a child, I didn’t want to let myself be lost. 

I would not let Father's sacrifice be in vain. 

Not then. Not ever.

So I fought against the sea for weeks. I had my own personal battles with the waves, clinging to that driftwood like it was my Eden. I fell asleep, woke again gasping for air, fighting against tides roaring above my head. Even after so long, those memories don’t fade. I remember them as vividly as they were yesterday…even as my father’s laugh and voice fades from that same memory. Seawater tastes so bitter on your tongue, your blood racing up and down your veins as you scream into the stars, your voice going unheard for thousands of miles. Even writing this down makes me want to shudder.  

Now, it still makes little sense to me. It makes even less sense to me knowing more about the world. I should have died of hunger, of thirst, of lack of sleep. That risk should have killed me a thousand times, a child fighting against too much to bear. But I suppose even back then, the woman I would become, the indomitable Anna Hanover had started to emerge. 

That little girl survived, making it to shore. Only I remain of the Hanovers. 

My father is gone. 

But I will make his legacy live on. I will make it so that no one is never lost at sea, unsure of where they are in the world ever again. So that no children have to struggle against the sea, too tired and afraid to yet get to mourn. 

It is a vow I’ve made over and over, and one I will continue to make. 

God, it truly is late, isn’t it? I don’t know if as many of these words would have left me otherwise. My hand aches, the ink running low. I suppose I’ll have to replenish it in the morning. Add another task to the neverending pile. 

Anyways. I doubt I'll send this. 

But maybe one day I will. 

Maybe one day this letter will be meaningless, because I will have said all of this in person to you.  

But I don't–Hershey, I just don’t know. Imagine. Me, not knowing something. Not being able to talk about something! You know better than anyone just how much I can go on and on. It's heavy, this grief. It's been over fifteen years now, and I don't think the load has gotten any easier to carry. Father’s memory is the reason why my life’s work exists, after all. My grief and old love for him weigh on me almost as heavy, if not heavier than my Satellite.

Given how much I care for you, I wonder if I’ll ever be able to share my truth on these matters. If not you, then who? I may take lovers, may have friends—but you have been my dearest person for so long. You have gotten me through so much, been my friend so long, and yet the words die whenever I think of trying.

Good night, Hershey. I think I’ll try to sleep now. My eyes grow weary, and my hands shake. After all, I need to be up rather early tomorrow in order to . Sleep may be hard to come by. Perhaps it will come easier after baring my soul in this letter. 

A woman can only hope. 

I hope that wherever you are, your night has been more peaceful, more filled with stars, than mine. 

Your friend,

NOVA

[rayshippouuchiha]

I just need a moment to scream about Ranna 1/2. It's my first intro to Gender Bender stuff and that, Huh, am I Really a girl? Moments. I love the world building that we could see in the .... Product of it's Time shonen plot? Like, the acceptable humor of it's time but now horribly grates against my LGBTQ+ and gender equality sensibilities makes it a bit of a tragedy for me. Because the author had so many amazing ideas but they covered it in leecher humor when there were So Many ways it could have been a masterpiece? I mean, it was the 70s (I think?) so obviously there wouldn't be very many open-minded concepts from then but it still hurts, almost.

The gender and animal changing pools, the matriarchal Amazons, the Phoenix and Mollusc Tribes, Ranma's mom Nodoka (who really needs to kill her husband and stop scaring her kid) who is a complete badass (I'm sure Genma (the asshole who should've died on his "training trip") went on the trip because he was scared of her, the fic fodder that Ranma's training trip can give you, the Angst of Ranma's Nekoken (Genma deserved to die for that alone, death by cats asshole 🤬) and his possible grandma figure, the "Rivalry" between him and Ryouga (I'm pretty sure if Ryouga knew gay was a thing, he'd be one) over Ranma not making it to their fight because Ryouga got Lost (there's tons of fics right there for his Lost Trips, the Hibiki's are Directionally Cursed™).

My absolute fav fics are the Trans/Gender fluid Ranma ones. When they're on that journey, too. Just learning who they are. When I'm feeling shippy, then Ranma/Ryouga because they have a Connection. But Ranma xovers so easily. His girl form could be made into so many different Magical Girls (Sailor Moon, Wedding Peach, Tokyo Mew Mew, Cardcaptor Sakura, Shugo Chara, etc.) And his mom! She has no background beyond being a kickass swordswoman and housewife. She can be anything! She just made 3 bad choices. 1: marrying Genma, 2: letting Genma take Ranma on their training trip, 3: pretending that she'll hold Ranma to the contract he signed with his handprint at 3 to become a Man™.

I can't believe that Nadoka would kill Ranma over having a girl form like Genma thinks (but she would kill Genma). She was way too happy to spend time with Ranko (Ranma's go to name for his girl half) and mothering her. I fully believe she'd just be like, You're a woman, too, now so you need to be the Best Woman™ now, too. And just do Girl Bonding. Y'know, teaching Ranma how to look after themselves (cooking, cleaning, financials, more than the same clothes every day), shopping, and of course Swords. Nadoka deserves to pass on her Skills™.

I hate that all of Ranma's fiancees (that he only has because Genma kept selling his son for shit before leaving) are determined to marry him. They all click with Ranma on some level, but more like friends who just happen to be girls rather than wife material. Like, I feel bad for them, but they keep blaming Ranma for all the fiancees when they should be pissed at Genma for selling his son to so many people. Which is probably why I ship Ranma/Ryouga so freaking badly.

Both Cursed, both Amazing Martial Artists, Childhood Friends (for a while in middle school, Ranma's job was to escort Ryouga to class so he wouldn't get Lost and miss school), an actual Friendship to build on. I'm pretty sure Ryouga defaulted to Eternal Enemies over their missed fight because why else would he be so upset and feel so strongly over a missed fight with his best friend?

Anyways, sometimes I just get Feels about Ranma and I had to say it.

Ranma is a classic for a reason

[lyndaris]

No Feelings:

(I have.. no excuses to post this 🧍‍♀️)

This castle, or mansion… whatever it was. It was difficult to navigate, a clever design? No, Alec just has no sense of direction. So easily turned around and lost. It made the goal of finding the destination impossible to her.

Tanlorin was already deep in their cups as they mingled with the crowd. Their favorite wine must be going around and served. Alec thought to herself. Her own glass still full, she has only pretended to take a few sips. Her focus on finding the right hallway to slip away to.

Eyes scan the large room, watch as people walk around to navigate the building. Her ears catch little details of what is where. A slow but effective process to get her where she needs to go.

One opportunity was all she needed to slip by the guards in charge of the east wing of the building. Where all the royals personal rooms and offices were. A calm, collected strut down the hall. This is one of many times her flat expression came in handy. None spared a glance her way as she walked through.

Once she found the desired rooms with the most expensive looking items, Alec placed runes for Tanlorin to recognize should they decide to join her and find where she is. She just hadn’t expected them to appear so quickly, still intoxicated though.

It was clearly obvious that they were tipsy, a smirk plastered on their face. Their body slightly hunched over from the loss of balance in their steps. Not even trying to be stable or stealthy anymore.

“You’re drunk.” Alec stated, a brow raised as her head tilted back to look up at them. Seeing how their smirk grew into a smile. She can’t help but smile herself. “You’re supposed to be smooth talking your way into another part of the building.”

Tanlorin chuckled, a hand waving dismissively. Walking over her, their taller figure looming over hers. Amused by their height difference as they had to lean forward to be at her eye level. Their long arms looping around her waist as they leaned in close.

“…you’re so small~��� they teased, a small laugh leaving them as Alec lightly elbowed them.

“Oh, screw you..!” She laughed, playfully pushing them off her.

“I bet you would~” they respond, arms crossed with a smug expression. Earning them an eye roll from the dunmer.

“I will leave you here by yourself-“ she pretended to threaten, an index finger pointed up to them. Her expression failing to stay serious. Both of them smiling at the other. Another laugh shared.

“Come on, have some fun…” Tanlorin whined, their behavior and tone of voice childish. Alec had her back turned as she rummaged through some drawers, in search of valuables that wouldn’t be missed.

“We’re here on a mission, not to party.” The dunmer spoke over her shoulder, her eyes on an item in hand. Trying to decide if it would even be worth anything.

“You’re so serious. Just relax…” They had unbuttoned their shirt, their chest now bare as they slipped off the fancy piece of clothing to toss onto a table. Carefree as they opened the closet to search through the clothes. “It just me or is it getting hot in here?”

Alec was about to ask them their opinion on an expensive looking piece of jewelry but saw them shirtless. Unable to hold back her laugh, even as she covered her mouth.

“Tan, put your clothes back on..!”

“It’s not like someone’s going to walk in on us…” They groan, eyes rolling before their signature smirk appeared. “We can just pretend I’m your personal stripper if they did.”

Seeing how they rolled their hips and pretended to start unzipping their pants only made Alec laugh harder. An adorable sight that made Tanlorin join in laughing. They had noticed that Alec never gets flustered or embarrassed when they tease her like this, had it been anyone else they would whine for them to stop or get equally flirty in return.

“You don’t get flustered very easily do you…” They stood behind Alec, their shoulders and back straightened to their full height. Looming over the smaller Mer with a smug look. Their mischief thinly veiled.

“I don’t feel anything… actually. I never got close enough anyone to feel these…” One hand making vague gestures, the other set down the object she had been holding. Unable to find the right word she was searching for. Her head turned and now seeing that spark in their eyes, one she’s notice they have when they are feeling extra flirty.

“Nothing?” They asked, something dangerous flickering in their eyes as their smirk widened. A sight that would make anyone else blush or swoon… but not Alec. In all her obliviousness, the lack of experience and knowledge with flirting and suggestive behavior, she has no reaction. A blank stare up to the altmer. Might as well have a visible ? above her head.

The dunmer shook her head, now with a faint sense of embarrassment. Turned around to the drawers again. Closing one and opening another as Tanlorin closed the space between them. Their large hands on her shoulders, a slight tug at one end of her shirt to expose the skin of her neck. The touch of their lips on her skin made her tense, ever so slightly.

Affection, intimate touches were so foreign to her. How is one supposed to react? What is she supposed to be doing? Many questions. Yet no answers found.

Alec turned her head towards them, carefully to not bump against their head. “Tan…”

The feel of their hands trailing down her sides to rest on her hips, then turning her around to face them now. Watched as they leaned forward again, very slowly and just enough to be eye level.

“You smell really good-“ they could barely get their words out before laughing. Alec smiled and shook her head.

“Better than your so-called cologne?” She teased, poking at their bare stomach. Watching as they dramatically feigned offense. A hand on their chest as they gasped.

“You love it. Don’t think I don’t catch you smelling me.” They play along, both wearing obvious smiles with their back and forth. Completely forgetting their mission all together.

“Oh, it’s hard to miss. You fill the room with your cologne. Your own personal way of announcing your presence in a room.” It’s been a playful battle between who smells better than the other, a game they’ve played since they had begun their adventures as partners. Alec’s own perfume or Tanlorin’s many self made colognes.

“You take that back. Take it back.” They speak, mocking a serious tone while poking at her belly and sides. Tickling her just to hear that adorable laugh they love. Dodging her attempts to push their hands away.

A play fight that ends with Tanlorin stealing a kiss on her lips. A soft, gentle kiss. Kissing is so weird… but not terrible. She would like it better if they didn’t taste like that wine. Letting their kiss linger before she tilted her head back to break it.

She was enjoying their little embrace after the kiss until she was lifted up off the ground. She often forgets they are much stronger than they look… a warning would’ve been nice before they swept her off her feet, however.

Both arms quick to cling onto them as they carried her over to the desk. Sitting her on top after shoving off all the items that were there before they stepped between her legs.

“Perfect~” they purred, one hand on her cheek. The other planted on the desk beside her leg. Even now, their height difference is noticeable. They still tower over her and have to hunch forward to close the gap. Something they enjoy a little too much. “No feelings yet?”

Well, what is she supposed to be feeling? It felt like a trick question, or maybe a trap… or maybe she is just that clueless she doesn’t understand if this is a serious question or not. Either way, all she can no is shake her head for answer.

Alec almost feels sheepish with her response. Shrinking down in embarrassment but they are quick to shoo away her insecurities. The hand on her face moves just enough so they could trace her bottom lip with their thumb.

“Maybe I can change that…” their suggestive voice fading as they trail off. “I’ve been told I have magical fingers.”

Their hand that was on the desk lifted to show the small sparks of magic at their fingertips. That goofy smile of their’s present as they felt proud for that line. It only makes Alec laugh, whatever worries and fears she had gone now. They are as playful as they are flirty.

[fullofgutsndopamine]

We Could Build A Home (We Could Play Pretend) chapter two

Or: the one where charlie is always on his porch and becomes your safe haven

previous chapter here

masterlist here

TRIGGER WARNINGS: alcoholism, shitty parents (both you and charlie’s) , neglect, mentioned abuse, physical/emotional abuse, dick joke, cursing, mention of charlie patching you up after (implied) abuse

You wake up to an all familiar scratching noise-like nails on chalkboard to you-and half fumble out of your bed to look out your window.

You know what the sound is, of course, even without looking, but you still need the confirmation- 

charlie is outside, a sander in hand, scrubbing hard at wood in front of him-and it’s not an euphemism- he’s poured over the old wood, his forehead is already wet with sweat, his glasses tucked into his shirt-must’ve been frustrated with the the amount of sweat poring into them-

charlie and his dad must’ve had a fight last night. 

you thought you heard yelling, especially his father's voice-it was distinct, hard to not hear even if you buried your head under your pillow for it to be over with-

charlie's dad wants him to follow in the family business. 

his father, good with his hands, equally as good as talking-will fix your boats engine, fix your decaying porch and why yes he does take any form of payment thank you so much for asking

charlie describes his dad as slimy, and you’d have to agree. 

charlie's father has never left the comfort of the state, says there’s no reason to when everything he could ever want is in his backyard, people would die for a quarter of what he had-doesn’t see the shitty land where crops won’t grow, and the mountains of weeds, and the decaying porch benches and the population of only old people-settling down to die, no one young stays here.

charlie is no good with his hands. 

he’s all thumbs, all jagged edges, shaky hands that can’t follow the delicate needs associated with the family business-and his father is all red, all anger, always ready with a pop over the head and a “don’t be dumb, Charles. c’mon.” 

your father always said you weren’t good for much but the lemonade you managed to make, and even that threaded a dangerous line between too much and too little- so when you finally manage to drag yourself out of bed, get dressed, morning routine done-you hold your breath.

if you can still hear him scrubbing, you’ll bring him lemonade. If you can’t, you’ll leave him alone. seconds later you hear the scrubbing, and you see him, still red faced, sweat pours after him-maybe you can convince him to go for a swim, even if the lake is 95% seaweed, a quick dip is still a dip, regardless.

“Hey, you.” Charlie calls the second the door closes, and you curse quietly, always giving away you trying to sneak up at him, do something nice. You mean to fix it, but your memory is shit, and while you’re sure enough nails would take care of the job-you can’t bring yourself to do it, almost comforting in a way.

(and charlie has offered to fix the door for you multiple times, even showed up with his arms full of supplies, but he looked so tired, obviously hadn’t slept in days, a long list of chores from his father-how could you add to that list? Besides, he always said you had the most comfortable couch he’s ever laid on, cigarette burns and all, and how could you deny him that luxury? (you wonder if it’s actually comfortable, or just comfortable because he’s away from his house for a minute, which you’d understand regardless)

You sigh as you turn to walk through the overgrown bushes that separate both of your houses- “Freshly made.” you settle on, and he throws the sponge down with an exaggerated sigh.

“Exactly what I needed. Thank you, honey.” he takes it and chugs it, and you run your hands over the familiar material. You cup your hands over your eyes as you let him drink, looking at your neighbors lavish houses, the two of you don’t belong here-

 The question comes before you can stop it from rolling off your tongue:

“What do you say we run away?” you sigh, your back against the boat he’s been working on- He snorts, doesn’t sigh, even though he’s answered this question millions of times, even as he’s patching you up- “Our parents would find us,” he indulges, just like he does as he pours rubbing alcohol over your scrapes and bruises, “and would murder us. Then they’d bring us back to clean it up, and honestly, honey? I'm happier here with you than dead.” and even though he’s kidding, something about it always leaves an ache in the pit of your stomach you can’t quite place.

You never go long without seeing each other.

You finally tasked yourself with cleaning some seaweed out of the lake, and while it’s not on your father’s never ending list of things to do, it is something and it makes the 100 degree day a little less unbearable.

You hear him before you see him, which is normal.

“When you step on a seashell, i’m not bandaging you up.”

A smile spreads on your face as you hear his voice, drop the handful of seaweed into the bucket in your other hand, cup your hands around your mouth: “Liar.”  like he hasn’t bandaged you up a million times before.

“Maybe,” he laughs back, “I gotta go into town. You need anything?”

You have a grocery list the size of your arm, spent half of last night going through the cabinets, shocked at how little you and your father have, amazed you two are alive, honestly- but only have a bucket of change under the old TV in your front room (that only works when the breeze is just right) and you’d rather die than have charlie see you pay for butter and sugar in quarters and nickels-and a break would be nice.

You dress quickly, something over the swimsuit, and charlie drives into town in his truck, your dad use to tease that you’d hear him comin’ before you saw him-but he takes the backroads, and you roll the windows all the way down, head tilted out the window, letting the breeze comb through your hair, as he makes up songs on the spot, the radio busted in his truck, only lifting your head to offer suggestions every once in awhile.

You love walking through stores with him, his shopping list on the back of a long overdue bill, threatening to shut lights off any day now-going item to item, daydreaming about having something like this, about being able to throw money away on such silly things. 

And charlie always indulges you with them, never pulls you along quicker, or tells you to hurry up or rolls his eyes, takes out his old flip phone and takes a shitty picture of you every chance he can get.

Day trips into town were rare, you both take advantage of them-he even packed lunch, two peanut butter sandwiches in bread just days away from being moldy-the crust of yours is cut off and you imagine that’s him saying i love you to you-as you both clink edges of the sandwich on top of his truck’s hood, chew in silence next to each other.

even with a paper bag filled with supplies, he was counting change towards the end for these supplies, he still somehow manages to land your favorite candy bar on your lap on the way home, a smirk on his face, you aren’t sure how he passes it off, but you feed him the other half as he drives you two home.

Band practices were a rare occurrence. 

Usually, charlie's acoustic guitar stayed in your closet upstairs, the only place your father wouldn’t rip apart for change for cheap liquor- if charlie's dad saw his guitar he’d kill him, you knew this, so it was fine in your closet, for special occasions only.finally, his father was going out of town for the weekend, an extended project to spend the weekend at the Robinson’s, patching up their pier. He told you in passing, a whisper, like it was some big conspiracy (and it practically was) so you waited for his father’s feet on gravel, could tell his steps by the cowboy boots he insisted on wearing-even in 100 degree weather-a slam of his car, and the tires on gravel-before you lifted your head out the window, seeing charlie nod excitedly at you.

charlie's house had the best wifi somehow. He doesn’t pay for it, stealing it from another neighbor, but the reception is better there-so you have your old laptop on your lap in his garage-takes 45 minutes to boot up, the couch is torn up and stained of coffee-but charlie is smiling widely.

He clears his throat, walks to the center of the garage-more like a stagger, like even in this half finished garage that anxiety and stage fright grabs him by the throat and yanks at him-and you wish you could afford a microphone for him- “We’re Slippery When Wet, and this is our new song-”

A gasp. You smack your hand over your own mouth to try and stifle the laugh from yourself-knowing that would only support him further, make the names worse-he walks up and is holding onto his guitar’s neck like it’s a lifeboat, the grip is tight, you can see the white of his knuckles, but he shakes his head to the drums starting, turns around- “one two three-”

He only stops when the Michaelson's come over from next door, threaten to call his father if they don’t keep that noise down, his friends dissipate, and it’s just you two again.

Going into water in the middle of the night is asking for every mosquito in the state to feast on you two, but it’s still 90 degrees, even at two in the morning, and charlie is smiling so widely as he suggests it, wants to try and catch a fish, just like when you two were younger and he’d bait your hooks for you, when worms were gross to you and the biggest worries you had at the time-and he’s singing the same song as he did when you two were little, right next to you, like it’s a second thought, hunched over the water, watching carefully:

“Robin Hood and Little John walking through the forest, laughing back and forth at what the other has to say-” you hear the song in your sleep, is comforting to you now, the only absolute in your life lately is that song, and it’s like he knows the comfort it brings you as he never leaves your side, trudging through the ankle deep water, even if you two don’t catch anything, and you spend the rest of the night in his bathroom, taking turns on who sits at the ledge of the sink-jeans pulled up, applying treatment to the bites that line the both of your legs.

A storm rolls in on the weekend.

This isn’t unusual, but somehow, everything is scarier on the lake.

You aren’t afraid of storms, would tease you never had that luxury-too much laundry to do, but as you’re taking clothes off the line outside, charlie is putting a tarp over the canoe, knows he’ll be yelled at later for how little work looks like it was done to it, and you cup your hands together- yell across at him.

“charlie,” You cup your hands at him and he immediately looks up, his hair whips in every direction when he waits for you to finish, “game club tonight?"

And it's less a club; an excuse to eat expired cracker shoved in the back of cabinets and to fish out the old board games from goodwill under your bed-the kind that charlie has replaced missing pieces of the game with lined notebook paper held together with chewing gum, tapes and dreams-but it keeps both of your minds off the roaring thunder and the flashes over a too large lake-

He smiles, cups his hands back: “it’s a date!” he calls back, and you try to act like butterflies don’t float in your belly.

[isca-rambles]

5x22 Oh god I'm anxious already before I even press play. I know what happens in this episode for the most part, but good lord I'm still nervous. How people can watch tv shows/films without spoilers beforehand is beyond me. It never takes away my enjoyment, it just makes me slightly less likely to have a full blown anxiety attack during. Ah, brains. So fun when they work like shit. Okay...here we go. Pressing play. Now. Now. Oh god don't hurt my babies. I do love the fake D&D talk though. It's so cute when shows try to pretend they know what the fuck they're talking about. Hexes don't affect saving throws, ahem, only ability checks. Unless they're using a different edition, I guess. Or homebrew. Oh god no my babies. Do not go down that dark alley at 4am in the fog don't do it please for the love of god. AND DON'T SPLIT THE PARTY. Jesus. WHY. Oh god why. To quote Lucy (and break my heart again), why are you doing this?! Celina, my baby. Aaron, my baby. God I hate this episode but I also love it because it's such a good episode and it has such a terrifying vibe. But good god. Tim and Lucy turning up together. The only respite I'm getting from this episode is them being next to each other. And yes, that jacket is so his. God the 'one of our own is in peril' episodes are always so good and always so bad for my anxiety. The angst is delicious but it hurts so much. Boyd there in the background behind Nolan. Bastard. But also why did they drop the ball so much on this big bad in S6? The strike, I guess. But they had such a good build-up and arc and it just fizzles out. Weird they don't have Lucy working on the riddle, honestly. She did so well on the last one. Is Celina still not getting a hug from anyone? Give this woman a Lucy hug, she is in need! Oh god. Grey. Don't or I'll cry. Oh god Lucy and Tim. She doesn't need to ask for a hug this time, he knows. He doesn't ask her what she needs, he knows. She folds so easily into him and there's no hesitation this time, there's no distance, no longing or lingering and then separation. They just fold into each other. Her hand on his heart, his hand on her head. Cradling each other. God the callbacks are killing me. And no doubt what's going through her mind is how they never even got a chance for this with Jackson. Never got to get him to hospital, the doctors never got to try and save him. Aaron had Celina. Jackson was alone. I'M NOT OKAY. I do wonder why they didn't go after Tim and Lucy in her apartment. Maybe because it wasn't remote enough compared to Nolan and Harper, who have houses. Maybe because they knew there'd be two cops there, two guns, whereas Harper and Nolan's partners might be less well prepared for defense. Maybe Nolan's call got to them in time? I know they get their own ambush at the end with Luke, which is equal parts terrifying and badass to see our power couple hold their own. And also I don't want more trauma for Lucy in her own home. But that is a fic idea, I guess. What if they'd gone after Lucy and Tim, instead of Nolan or Harper? God, poor Harper and James. Jesus that must be the worst feeling in the world. Oh my god this episode is still so tense and I know everything that happens. Or another fic idea, Tim and Lucy acting as bait in her home? And I know there's been a good few, but I need more hotel fics of everyone hiding out there or going there at the end of 5x22. I need more comfort fics after the ambush, or in the build-up before it. Fic prompt idea, what if they didn't abort before that door was opened and the trap triggered? Obviously no MCD, just think of the Chenford angst of being caught in a bomb or trapped in that building. Lucy's little glances with Tim. Wopez baby, my heart. Tim's smile. Give this man a baby, please. Just to hold. Damn right Lucy's not going on her own. I know you can handle yourself, Lucy, but no way you're going on your own during this crisis. Also guys stop flirting as you're entering this hell building. I mean don't stop.

Oh god this scene gives me heart troubles every time. It's such a good scene, aside from the fact they're not shooting at their legs. But otherwise it's such a brilliant scene. Our power couple just being so badass, protecting each other. Tim saying he'll hold them off, which is certain death, and Lucy instantly giving him a look of 'screw that'. And the way Tim doesn't fight back. He knows she's right and he knows she won't leave him. How in sync they are during this whole fight but especially at the start. Lucy and that shield! Tim practically dragging her up the stairs and then pushing her. He has to keep her safe. He knows she's capable but he cannot lose her. And god how small Lucy looks when that attacker has his hands around her throat. How terrified she looks. Because she can't die here and she can't leave Tim on his own to face them all. How desperate Tim is to get to her. How he just grabs her entirely and pushes her ahead of him, supporting her and guarding her. And he of course forgets all of his cop instincts and rules because he has to keep her safe. There was a gorgeous fic I read and again, I can't remember by who, but saying she was his hands and he was her eyes. Tim looks so terrified when that door opens, because he knows he can't do anything to protect them. He hasn't got any ammo and he can't reach a weapon because he has her. And Lucy holding that gun up in desperation, trying to protect them both.

And Tim still doens't let go of her. He guides her in and onto the stairs. He can't let go of her because holding onto her, even just her vest, is reassuring him that she's still alive. I just adore the power couple protecting each other so much. It's not saying she's weak, we know she's more than capable. But that doesn't mean he won't do everything in his power to keep her safe. You protect the people you love, regardless of how well they can protect themselves.

I know it was too fast paced but god I would've killed to see them just have a moment together on the stairway. Reassuring each other they'd okay. Touching faces, hands. Forehead touches. Head kisses. Anything. We still have that contact between them, but no way Tim is not holding onto her for more than a second. She's not leaving his sight and he's not leaving hers, so they're both going after Moran. The little look between Lucy and Tim. I need so much more comfort fic set after this episode.

God this really is such a brilliantly done episode. The music, the shots. It's all done so well. It's just a shame it didn't really lead anywhere much in S6.

[votederpycausemufins]

Another fic for the Metal Hearts au, hope you'll enjoy Oh, I've also started a discord group for people who enjoy the various Grumbo kids. Like Grum and Jrum and the Grum variants, but also Tegg, the shulker kids or even NPG.

But here's Chapter 1 of 'Do Bots Dream of Electric Lives?'

Grumbot had rebuilt a ‘small’ starter base for the sixth time. It wasn’t just that he had been tweaking the design, but he was tearing the build down completely before starting from almost scratch, still having blocks on hand. He stared at it for a few moments before pulling out his axe to start tearing it down once more, only stopping when Jrumbot ran over. “Noooo! I like this one!”

“This isn’t your base, this is mine. You can build your own.”

“But I can’t build.” Jrum complained. “And this isn’t even your base! You’re just building whatever!”

“It will be my base. I just want to plan it correctly. It will be my first.”

Jrum huffed and crossed his arms. “Nuh uh. Technically we shared a base with our dads!”

“Yes, technically. And there were two of those bases, so they would be on equal footing, so neither was really a first base, so this will be mine.”

“Well Dad said he just lived in a shipwreck he found. He didn’t have any plans!” Jrum argued, and Grum looked like he was ready to snap back, but then Mumbo came in to calm things down.

“Your brother is right, Grum.”  Mumbo patted Grum’s head for some reassurance. “You don’t need to have a plan for the upcoming season, and if Grian were here, he would agree.”

“But he’s not.” Grum huffed, and then pulled away to start taking down the test build.

“Your dad can have a life outside of Hermitcraft, you know. Sure, some of the other Hermits are with him, but he’s having fun with some friends he doesn’t get to see as often.” Mumbo then started to help gather any materials Grum was missing in the destruction and put them in chests. “Once you get settled in Season Eight, it might be nice for you to explore outside of Hermitcraft, at least a little.”

“I guess.” Grum replied, but he didn’t sound too convinced. “But it feels too early to try and think about such a thing.”

“Maybe. But mentally preparing yourself can- oh for goodness sake.” Mumbo cut himself off as he looked at a machine flying across the sky towards his base, pushing around a few diamond blocks that were familiar to him. “They finally made it in time for the end of the season.”

“Huh? What are those?” Jrum asked, looking ready to run after the contraption just to get the diamonds.

Mumbo sighed, though a laugh made its way in as well. “Last season, Grian Iskall and I made a big business called Sahara. Those were our profits which we sent to the next season, or rather, this season, to give us a boost at the start. Or whenever they arrived.”

“Which is only finally now.” Grum added oh, making Mumbo huff indignantly.

“Then you might want to grab them then so you can pretend ODEA made a profit.” Jrum added, which only made Mumbo look sadder, though laughing along once the bot started giggling.

“Well, I’m going to make sure Iskall doesn’t run himself ragged.” Mumbo said after they had calmed down from the joke. “Xisuma said he wanted you two to drop off anything you want for the next season. He’s already noted down your presents since they were already approved, but if there’s anything else, talk with him.”

“I suppose you’re telling us this hoping we’ll do it now?” Grum asked, putting down the blocks he was about to use to rebuild the test starter base yet again.

“I trust you two to make it over there on your own. And the sooner the better in case either of you realize you’ve forgotten something and need to talk with him again.”

Jrum nodded and grabbed onto Grum’s hand, already dragging them in the direction of Grian’s base, where a good portion of their stuff was. “Okay! We’re gonna do that then! And say hi for us!”

.

.

.

Grumbot watched as Jrum had filled another shulker box with items. “You know X won’t let you talk all of that to Season Eight, right?”

“But why not? It’s just a new home, right?”

“Not really.” Grum answered, getting up from the shulker box he had been sitting in, one of three he had packed, though he was trying to get it down to two. “It’s supposed to be a fresh start for everyone. Dad’s wardrobe is probably the only thing he’s going to bring along. You and I are just exceptions because we just had our birthdays and we’re younger.”

“But… So I can’t bring my shop wares?”

“No.”

“Or my diamonds?”

“Nope.”

“What about Professor Beak?”

Grum paused for a moment to think. “He might be allowed to come. But a new world is probably going to be dangerous for him.”

“That’s not fair! What can I even bring?”

Grum opened up one of his shulker boxes, showing off the pile of paper inside. “Well for the most part I just have my IOU’s. Another box has some of the toys and treats I got as well as the posters. The third has what building blocks I think I can get away with.” Then Grum shrugged. “There’s other stuff too, but that’s the bulk of it. I’m pretty sure Xisuma won’t give this back to us still in shulker boxes. I wouldn’t be surprised if we don’t even get it back until starter bases are set up.”

“Wait, what are we going to do for charging at the start? If we don’t have a base…”

Grum hummed in thought. “I guess that’s something we should ask Xisuma. Someone probably has an idea if he doesn’t. He might even give us emergency redstone treats until we’re in a better situation.”

“I hope so.” Jrum said, though sounding a little worried. He stood there for a few moments more, just thinking, before slowly going back to his shulker boxes. “Grum, can you help me figure out what I need to take out?”

Grum nodded and then went over to Jrum. They went through the shulker boxes and pulled out items, mainly resources like diamonds, redstone and quartz. Jrum ended up with a little more than Grum, mainly because he refused to give up some stuff that, while we’re likely to be rejected, Jrum was hoping he could convince Xisuma otherwise or find some sort of work around.

Once they had picked up the boxes, Jrum had them go through the Nether tunnels so they could bring Professor Beak along more easily. It took a little longer than just flying to Xisuma’s base would have taken since their dad’s portal wasn’t the safest, and climbing while holding and controlling a parrot could be rather difficult. Still, the pair managed to reach Xisuma’s portal without any harm and only one close call.

The one issue with Xisuma’s base was that it was a number of buildings all separated from one another. Once the bots were out of the portal, it was then a matter of finding Xisuma. They dropped off their shulker boxes and Professor Beak next to the portal before flying around the base to look for the admin.

After finding nothing in the more common areas, the bots then started looking at the farms with similar luck or lack thereof. Around the time when Grum finally thought about giving up and just messaging Xisuma, there was a sort of screeching noise that came from one of the buildings, a noise that sounded like Jrum. 

Grum immediately flew in that direction hoping his brother wasn’t hurt. He landed in one of the buildings he thought they had checked already, but then more noises had the bot digging through the ceiling to find Jrum essentially hissing at Xisuma, who was barely managing to keep the bot away from himself. It seemed like Jrum wanted to tear the admin limb from limb, which was rather confusing to Grum. The one thing he could think of that would upset Jrum would be that X had already said a certain item couldn’t be taken to the next season. Well, that or the redstone contraption Grum had just noticed to the side. What it was, he had no clue, but that meant it could be the issue.

Grum went over to Xisuma and Jrum and then pulled his brother away, getting a thankful sigh from Xisuma. Jrum tried getting out of Grum’s arms to go back to attacking, but to no avail. “Why are you trying to attack Xisuma? Did you already start asking about our stuff and what we could bring along?”

“No!” Jrum shouted, still wrestling against Grum’s grip. “He’s going to burn all of his diamonds! He’s just going to waste them!”

“I’m not wasting them. I’m making it into a sort of… treasure hunt.” Xisuma started to explain. “Once we wrap up here, other people will be able to explore this world. They’ll theoretically know about the diamonds I’ve put here and will race to try and find them before they’re all gone.”

“That’s stupid!” Jrum argued, but Grum thought it was a nice idea. Jrum just liked diamonds a bit too much compared to most people.

“They are Xisuma’s diamonds, he can do what he wants with them. It doesn’t look like the machine is even going yet.” Grum assumed, since he could hear the bubbling of lava but nothing burning, but who knew if the redstone would work that way. “So can we just ask Xisuma to check our stuff over?”

“I assume you’re referring to the items you want transferred over to the next season.” Xisuma spoke up, getting a nod from Grumbot. After they took a few moments to calm Jrum down a little, they all went back to Xisuma’s portal to where everything was placed.

Xisuma looked through the shulker boxes, approving most of what was there. He explained how they would be stored and once the two had a starter base, either each their own or a shared one, most of the items would be given to them. 

As expected by Grum, Xisuma said the shulker boxes wouldn’t be returned. He also couldn’t let them bring over the blocks and redstone that had been a gift from Hels since the only reason they were allowed was because it was the end of the season. While the bots were saddened by that, Jrum cheered up when X allowed Professor Beak to go to the next season at the same time as the other items would be returned.

Lastly came two items that stood out from the others. Two pairs of elytra, each of them custom made for each bot. During the birthday parties for the bots, Prof, Doc’s Hels and creator of these elytra gave Xisuma what he would need to potentially make more. And as main admin of Hermitcraft, it was easy enough for X to use the information he was given and summon in extra ones.

For season eight, Xisuma was looking into more ways to change the world so the others could have a little more comfort. It had already been done with the armor stands people, mainly Cleo, customized, and recoloring materials was small but helpful. The miniature blocks that wandering traders gave was another thing the others enjoyed, and there were other things used on a player to player basis.

Certain concerns were only brought up at the parties and following meetings. Thankfully a few of those concerns had already been brought up, which was part of the reason they had the party at all. Technically the season was meant to end earlier than it was going to now. But trying to figure out ways to help the bots in the early stages of the season and even further into it had delayed things.

With the elytra being brought up, Xisuma explained how things would work, not just for the elytra, but also food and beds. The Hermits had already been informed that something new for the world would be changing the appearance of an object, to put it simply. Drawing from that, but taking it to a higher level, the commands the Hermits would have access to for that also had a variation specifically for Grum and Jrum. If either of them used the right command while holding the appropriate object, the item would change to what they needed. A normal elytra would be turned into a customized pair for them, while beds would turn into their chargers and food would be replaced with charged redstone that would be named the same as the food and couldn’t be used other than being eaten, just to keep things fair.

While Jrum mainly just nodded along, Grum made sure to take notes for the two of them, likely to also review them with their dads later to make sure everyone important was on the same page. Probably Xisuma would mention it to them as well, but better to be safe than sorry. Though sharing with a Grian was going to be hard. “By the way, has there been any updates about dad and the others?”

Xisuma looked up at Grum’s question, pausing in some extended explanation to Jrum in how the cosmetic feature would work. “Oh, I haven’t heard too much, and even then, there’s no telling how long it will last, but Grian thinks they probably won’t last too much longer. But it could also go longer than he assumes.”

Grum grumbled at the answer, but reluctantly accepted it. Some information was better than none. And it seemed Xisuma was one of the few people who was in contact with everyone in… what had his dad called it again? Third Life? Whatever. Since it ending would give the hermits a day or two afterwards to officially prepare to leave, it made sense X would want to keep updated to know when the season was really going to end. 

“Well, I think that’s about it for your items. If you want to check anything else later, feel free to message me and I can meet you at the portal.” Xisuma said after making sure he had checked them all. “Much easier than you two needing to search the base for me again.”

Grum thanked Xisuma while Jrum started stating the admin down, having been reminded of the diamond burning machine. He younger boy needed to be dragged away, but thankfully with Xisuma’s explanation of how they would get elytra, it meant they could keep their current pairs and fly home.

Mumbo unfortunately hadn’t arrived back yet, so the bots sent him a message to say they were back at the base. It was late enough at that point and the travel had drained their batteries, so Grum and Jrum turned in early. Jrum had a little trouble going to sleep at first, which led to Grum being kept up until he handed a book to Jrum to read, which seemed to quiet him down.

After a few minutes more, Grum shifted into sleep mode. It was mainly just to help with charging, but sometimes he would have some semblance of dreams. And with all that was going on, a little distraction seemed like it would be nice. He couldn’t control if he had dreams or not of course, but that hope was there. And it seemed like that night, he would have them, or something at least.