#motorcycle gift guide

[ijustwant2ride]

9 Holiday Gift Giving Ideas for your Motorcyclist.

Your biker/motorcyclist, deep down, wants some motorcycle related stuff.  Any parts or accessories for the bike or new gear for them will likely work, but here are a few other items to think about. If you have some different ideas include them in the com

Why just 9 ideas for your motorcyclist?  Because 10 is too much work!!  LOL Your biker/motorcyclist, deep down, wants some motorcycle related stuff.  Any parts or accessories for the bike or new gear for them will likely work, but here are a few other items to think about. If you have some different ideas include them in the comments! 9 – Communication Gear – There are several options out there…

[advpulse]

Here are 10 great gift ideas for Adventure Riders just in time for this holiday season. Follow the link for details!

[johnwickb1tsch]

bittersweet + ch 45

a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... all chapters

WARNINGS FOR THIS FIC: NSFW, SEXUAL CONTENT, VIOLENCE, YANDERE SH!T. Plz take care. I luv u all. 😘

45. halcyon daze

With Christmas on the horizon you take a break from your Persephone-inspired series to work on a present for John. There’s not a thing in the world you could buy him that he couldn’t buy for himself; but you have two hands, some talent and creativity: things that can’t yet be bought on Amazon. You’d noticed that he’s been working on an old set of Russian Fairytales. 

It still never fails to destroy your heart, that John favors mending the binding of children’s stories, as though he can recapture and sew back together some aspect of his own broken youth. 

Some of the illustrations in this edition are faded, one is even half destroyed, the paper torn. The writing is in cyrillic, you haven’t learned to read it yet, but with some [you hope] casually peppered questions, you manage to glean enough information to look up what they’re supposed to be. You make some replacements for him, and in the case of the Knight of Night in the story of Vasilisa the Beautiful, the warrior in black might bear more than a passing resemblance to your own dark assassin.  

When he opens this gift the wonder in his eyes is priceless to you. “I didn’t make you anything,” he apologizes guiltily, and while you are sitting amidst the piles of your freshly bestowed loot, which you still can’t help but feel guilty about. He bought you a stylish new motorcycle jacket, a fresh set of artist series gouache tubes and paper, an antique gold art nouveau lavalier necklace in the form of a flowing narcissus flower with glowing enameled accents and a dangling pearl –you are filled with so much love you fear your heart might burst.

You crawl across the floor, into his lap. He barely has time to set the drawings aside before your mouth is on his, and you are toppling him back almost into the Christmas tree with your ardor. By the time you are finished with him, you’re pretty sure he knows how happy he makes you, but just in case you tell him for good measure. “I love you more than I know how to say.” 

***

As winter drags on you look to John’s in-house gym to get exercise, even though you despise running on the treadmill. You feel like a hamster, jogging your ass off to nowhere. You try to keep up with your yoga practice, though you rarely get to finish a session. Somehow, John always manages to time walking in on you when you have your ass in the air. “Have mercy, I’m only a man,” he teases you, like this is an excuse for toppling you over and pinning you down with his body and his mouth on yours. 

It’s hard to get too mad about it, considering. 

You suppose you do still get a stretch and a workout, not to mention a belly laugh, in the end. 

Continuing your training stays interesting, although he wasn’t lying before when he said he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off of you. More often than not when you spar, you end up fucking on the floor. He’s never more beautiful than when his dark eyes glitter with anticipation of the hunt; you’ve learned a lot, but you know you stand zero chance against him. 

Maybe it’s not fair, when he loses patience and uses his experience and his size to put you down on the ground, sweeping your legs or twisting your arm behind you while he pulls down your leggings, baring your ass to the room. But he finds you soaking wet every time he claims his prize, guiding himself inside you, your growls quickly turning to moans for the way he fills you up and takes you down. “I fucking love it when you fight me,” he admits breathlessly, thrusting until you both cum loudly, your face pressed into the rubber floor.

It’s a game you love to lose.   

***

Winter starts to thaw, and you have cabin fever, ready to go outside. John is engrossed in a binding project: you finished your illustrations, and now he seems just as engaged in his side of the collaboration as you were yours. You find him smiling at a rendition of Dog as Cerberus with three heads when you pop into his workshop. “Want to go for a hike?”

He looks around at the mess he’s made on his worktable. “I’m not at a good stopping point,” he admits, and you understand that perfectly well. “You can go, just don’t be gone too long, alright?”

He could have pushed you over with a feather, you are so surprised to receive this clearance for a solo trek. 

You kiss him on the cheek in thanks. “I’ll be back soon,” you promise, still hardly able to believe your luck. 

“Y/n?” he calls as you’re at the door. “Take Dog?”

“I’m going too far for him.” Long walks hurt his paws.

“Then take your pistol.” You nod before disappearing up the stairs. Once upon a time, the thought of going around casually armed would have seemed like pure insanity to you. Now it’s simply a fact of life. You don’t have an official license for concealed carry, but after your intensive training at the Continental you feel perfectly confident that you won’t shoot anyone–unless you mean to. You live in John’s world now: survive first, worry about getting caught later…and pay off the appropriate officials if you have to.

That’s just the thug life, you suppose. 

The air outside is crisp and fresh, leaves and pine needles perfuming the woods in a way that intoxicates you more than any man-made scent. You take off down the trail at a brisk pace, feeling like you have wings on your feet. Knowing you could walk for miles and miles in this mood, you set a timer on your phone so you don’t forget yourself. Scaring John after he’s given you this confidence will not bode well for the future. Once upon a time such a leash would have chafed, but now you understand so much better what his fears are rooted in. You’ve peered into the darkness behind the curtain; there’s no going back. 

It’s the middle of the day in the middle of the week and you haven’t seen a soul, and on such a fine day as this, it is easy to forget that there’s a bustling, seething world of human strife out there. Or so you imagine, as you are sitting on the outcrop of your favorite overlook, your feet dangling out over oblivion. Yet, when you think you hear voices coming up the trail a sudden instinct kicks in to hide, to avoid being seen. Without really even thinking about it you tip yourself off the ledge, grabbing a branch of an ancient tree growing out of the rocks to break your fall, and dropping down to conceal yourself flat upon a narrow ledge.

“Dude, where’d she go?” you hear from above, your heart pounding in your chest, the blocky hardness of your little Beretta pressing into the small of your back as you lean against the stone face of the cliff a reassuring comfort. You realize then that John is not the only one with a residual paranoia from your misadventures. As you listen to the obviously harmless hikers above, you feel utterly ridiculous, and you wait for them to go so that you can make your way back in peace. 

Maybe it’s good to be alert, but at what point does one just have to get on with one’s life? If you live like a paranoid little rat scurrying around out of sight, then Dante has won in a different way. You think about this a lot, as you make your way home up the mountain. 

***

Perhaps it’s fitting, that with the renewal of spring all around you, John finishes the binding of your book. He calls you into the basement to inspect his workmanship, standing behind you as you behold the finished tome. The cover is embossed black leather with gold leaf. There is no title, just a design of an upturned skull grown through with blooming narcissus flowers. Slowly, you flip through the pages, enchanted with how he transformed your loose paintings into something so refined. 

“I love it,” you tell him, caressing a page bearing his likeness, the God of Death embracing his consort (that may bear a passing resemblance to you) in a Klimt-esque kiss. He nuzzles into your neck, kissing behind your ear. “But you didn’t sign it,” you complain, noting the lack of his usual This Book was Bound by John Wick plate. 

“I thought…we could do it together, as a wedding present?” he offers. You realize he means signing it with your joined name, and maybe it’s silly, but the thought makes your belly erupt into butterflies. You haven’t really talked about the wedding much. Though you wear the ring happily, he hasn’t really mentioned it at all, giving you space or otherwise occupied, you’re not entirely sure. 

“I would love that,” you agree, tilting your head for a kiss. His fingers dig into your hips as it deepens, a low moan called up from his throat. 

“Have you thought about what you might like?” he asks, kissing your neck again, his hands slipping under your shirt. 

“I don’t want anything fancy,” you admit breathlessly. “All I want is you.” You find the thought of bringing your dysfunctional family together in celebration only inspires anxiety. You have no lasting affiliations with any church–you do not feel the need to seek any god’s blessing of your union. You find you are just ready for it to be so. 

You feel him pause behind you, letting out a shuddering sigh. You wonder if he’s thinking about the journey you’ve taken, to get where you are today, together. You certainly are, looking at your book, and the allegory it tells of your tumultuous courtship. It wasn’t easy, and you can’t say anything so trite as you knew it would turn out–but you realize you did have the naivety to hope. For once���maybe your forgiving nature has finally paid off for you. You feel like you’ve been living in a halcyon daze, you are so happy. You hope it never changes, even if deep down you know it will. 

Change is the only certainty we’re ever afforded.

“Surely you want something nicer than a trip to the courthouse,” he pries, certain there’s something you’re not telling him. You do still feel embarrassed sometimes, about spending his money on things, even though he gives you free reign with unparallelled generosity. 

“I really don't want a big ceremony,” you assure him. “But…would you like it, if Winston married us?”

John huffs behind you, and you hear the smile in his voice. “I'm not sure that's something he does.”

You giggle at the thought, and you can tell John at least likes the idea of his father figure–one of his few remaining friends, being there. And, you like Winston too. “I bet he’d do it for you, John.”

“Hmm. We’ll think on that.”

It’s not a no.

“You know what I do want?” you pose, turning a page of your new book.This illustration is a rather explicit one, Death kneeling at her feet with his face buried in her pussy, her back bowed in sweet agony, the dark waters of the river Styx glittering behind them. He offered her the most exquisite pleasures, but withheld release unless she agreed to be his forever. Though deep in her heart she knew she loved him immeasurably, still she refused.

Neither John nor you are immune to the effect of perusing this pornographic work together; his long fingers dip into the waistband of your jeans, his fingertips just nearly caressing your mound.   

“Anything,” he tells you, nibbling at your ear. It takes you a moment to remember what you were talking about, your clit throbbing in answer to his seeking fingers and his other hand up your shirt. As a result your answer comes in breathy bursts. 

“I want…to go on an adventure with you. A long honeymoon,” you tell him, writhing against him as his hand finds your breast, toying with the taut peak of your nipple. You know he likes to travel as much as you do. Wouldn’t it be novel to go somewhere and not even need to assassinate someone in the interim?

You feel him chuckle behind you, more than hear it. “I might have guessed. Where do you want to go?” He asks you this while his fingers tease your curls, so close to touching you where you need him most. You are past shame, when your voice cracks. 

“Where can we go?” You assume most of Europe is off the table these days. 

“Hmm. You still have a yen for South America?” 

You nod, and he laughs again, though he catches your mouth in a tooth-counting kiss before you can answer–ie defend yourself from the usual allegations. At last his middle finger dips into your wet slit, and the sound of relief that escapes you is barely human.  

“Young lady…” he growls, nipping at your ear. “This is quite a dirty little book you’ve drawn. Do you know how many times I had to come find you while I was working on this?” You moan as he swipes up your juices, finally circling your clit as his other hand dips into your bra. You feel his erection straining against the curve of your bottom; you press yourself back against him, wanting what’s yours. Your answer is part laughter, part moan–for the umpteenth time, you feel like life is perfect with this man. 

“Probably as often as I had to come find you while drawing it,” you answer cheekily, arching back to hold his neck, opening yourself completely to him. Your knees threaten to buckle as he touches you, but soon you find yourself bent over his table, his corded forearms braced like columns on either side of you as he fucks you silly amidst the smell of old books, leather, and binding glue.  

It really doesn’t get any better than this.

***

When warmer weather comes you start to take out the bikes again. After a few outings you feel sufficiently refreshed, and more than ready to take your test. You make your appointment for next week, and you feel like a teenager again, full of nervous energy for the impending exam. John finds this amusing. “You can ride, sweetheart. And if you fail, you can just take it again.” 

But the perfectionist academic in you wants to ace it on the first go. When you express the desire to go for a practice ride while John is working on a new project he nods, not even looking up from his worktable. “Be careful.” 

“Take your pistol. I know,” you tease. This has become a broken record between you two–remembering a time when he wouldn’t have dreamed of letting you out of his sight, you do not mind. He narrows his eyes at you playfully, before letting you off with that slight smile that still squeezes your heart in your chest. 

You gear up in your kevlar jeans, boots and jacket, gloves and helmet. Concealed carry is ridiculously easy, with such bulk about you. You feel a bit like a commando, every time you put on the jacket with its armored panels. You fire up the Kawasaki and potter down the driveway. You like this bike, it’s been great to learn on, but John has been teasing you about an upgrade if you’re a good girl. 

Considering you feel where he’s been inside you every time you sit down, you’re pretty sure you’re meeting the requirements. You think about this with a smile as you hit a straightaway, and let the machine open up beneath you. 

It really is the closest you can get to flying on the ground. 

Exhilarated, maybe even feeling a little cocky, you make your loop of the mountain roads and then decide to make a quick stop down in town. You’ve worn out your three favorite paint brushes, the chisel tip, the angle shader, and the tiny 3/0 you favor for small details. Mr. Morton will get you squared away. 

You park in the lot behind the art store, and carry your helmet inside. You don’t dally long, even though the smell of oil paint and linseed oil inside the little store is a marvelous thing. You chat with Mr. Morton, pet the shop cat, and tuck your score into your inside pocket before walking back out to the parking lot. 

It’s totally cliché, but the rest goes by in a blur. 

A black SUV rolls up beside you, screeching on its brakes, a man jumping out of the backseat making a B line for you. Too late, you realize your rookie mistake. Your jacket is zipped up to your chin–you can’t draw your pistol under your arm in time. But you have your helmet in your hand, and without hesitation, you introduce it to his face as hard as you can. 

“At least offer a girl some candy first, asshole!”

The driver spills out next, cursing and trying to grab you, dodging your second swing with the helmet. You side-step him, but he manages to snag your jacket. Rather than pull against his hold you let him drag you to him, meeting his groin dead-on with your knee. As he crumples you hit him in the face with your armored elbow, and run for your bike while shoving your helmet onto your head. 

Maybe you should have run back to the shop, to the thoroughfare, to the safety of witnesses. But all you can think in that moment is that John might need you. You have a terrible feeling that something bad could be happening at home, and so you start your bike and tear off faster and more recklessly than you ever have before. The handlebars wobble in your haste but you manage to get a hold of the machine, concentrating on working the clutch and the gears to pick up speed as fast as you can. If you look back, you know you’ll crash. You run a stop sign, veering around a car by the skin of your teeth, leaving the sound of screeching wheels and honking horns behind you.  

Out of town, you drop a gear and take off like a rocket up the mountain, passing cars where you definitely shouldn’t. I’m coming, John. Maybe it’s ridiculous. How much help could you possibly be to John Wick? But you won’t rest until you set eyes on him again. 

Maybe you shouldn’t be surprised, when the G Wagon roars up next to you again. In your peripheral you see the passenger in the window, his extended arm, the blocky black shape of a gun. They veer at you, trying to run you off the road. You brake the bike, letting them whip past you, nearly going off the pavement themselves in the confusion. You decide to turn off onto a sideroad, a winding death-trap of a paved goat trail that you know like the back of your hand, though you’ve never ridden it before, only drove. You hope you’ll lose them in the snarl of tight curves. It will take longer to get home, but if worse comes to worse maybe you can abandon the bike and lose them in the trees. 

Home turf advantage, you tell yourself, not entirely convinced. These guys mean business–and you’re fairly sure the driver’s accent was Italian. 

You don’t really hear it past the roar of your engine and your heartbeat in your ears, when they come up behind you. You do hear the shot, and you flinch, ducking low to make yourself a smaller target. But he wasn’t aiming for you. 

He was aiming for your tire, and when it blows the bike goes wild–and you really get to experience flying.

It’s almost exhilarating, sailing through the air, until you hit the pavement hard, skidding across the unforgiving asphalt, rolling to take some of the momentum. You lay there on the tarmac, alive, but completely stunned. You tell yourself to get up–but your body doesn’t listen. You see the shadow of a man over you. It’s Helmet Man–his face is a mask of blood; it looks like you broke his nose, and he’s pissed about it.

He kicks you in the side before shoving a needle through your jeans, into the meat of your butt. On the verge of puking in your helmet, the world swims, then goes black.

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

*author's note: Full credit to @discoscoob for suggesting that Winston should officiate, I love it, you're brilliant! 😘 And the yoga scene is totally @treedaddymcpuffpuff 's fault. I love our unhinged conversations boo 🤣 The Brain Rot would not be so strong or so FUN without you!❤❤❤❤❤❤❤ :)))))))))))))))))

**maybe i should also add that certain eXplicit panels in the BRZRKR Bloodlines comic inspired a great deal of this dumpster fire 🥵🤣🤣, y'all should definitely check it out, the artwork is great!

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all chapters

[ashisgreedy]

Sebastian Sallow x F!MC

Modern AU Biker!Sebastian 

“Catch-A-Ride“

MDNI

Tags: SMUT 18+ | Forced Orgasm/Made to cum | Multiple Os | Overstimulation | F!Penetration | Motorcycle Stimulation | Outdoor Sex | Oneshot | Aged up 21+ | MC is a little feisty |

WC: 3,050

A|N: Your motorcycle boyfriend is devilish~ Also, he loves her v much ♡ This is my 1st ever Bash fic! You can thank [this] post and @finalgirllx for saying the phrase "Biker Seb".

MC quickly swipes an extra coat of mascara on her lashes when she hears the knock on the door. She tosses the tube back in her makeup bag and looks herself over in the mirror one last time. 

There’s another louder knock as she nears the door. 

“I’m coming!” She shouts, checking out the peephole to make sure it’s who she thinks it is. MC recognizes his messy brown hair and the sunglasses he always wears. 

She throws the door open and pulls him in for a hug. “Hey!” 

Sebastian smiles as she hugs him tight. “Hey,” He holds his motorcycle helmet in one hand and wraps his free arm tight around her waist. “Are you ready to go?” He looks down at her as his hand rubs her lower back 

“Yeah, let me just grab my helmet and we can be off.” 

The two share a quick kiss before she reaches for the helmet on the coffee table in her living room. He keeps smiling a bit longer than usual and she narrows her eyes in suspicion. 

“You’re earlier than you said you’d be.” She glances at the clock on the wall. 

“No traffic.” Sebastian counters.

With her helmet in hand, a perfect match to the one Sebastian is holding, a gift from him on their last anniversary, she guides him out the door. 

“What’s that look on your face?” MC tries to see his eyes beyond the dark sunglasses. His smirk growing the closer they get to his bike. 

“What look? I always look like this.” He chews on a piece of gum in his mouth.

She knew him well enough to know something was up. “What’s going on, Sebastian? What are you up to?”

“Nothing,” He puts on his helmet, hiding the grin he’s sporting. “I can’t be happy to see my girl?” 

She narrows her eyes again before putting on her own helmet. Sebastian climbs onto his bike and waits for her to do the same. 

“I suppose…” She half believes him. She would drop it for now, though, she knew she’d bring it up again later after they took their first pitstop. 

He waits quietly for her to climb onto the bike behind him. She’s done it a dozen times by now, going with him on several rides all over the city and into the mountains. The view alone always knocked her socks off. Not to mention how exhilarating it is to be racing down a road while the wind whips past and your heart is racing from the thrill. 

Sebastian looks back and watches to make sure she doesn’t need help as she swings her leg over. 

He had told her to wear a flowy skirt for their evening ride but she was already regretting it as she tried to stuff the ends of the fabric under her legs on the seat. She didn’t want her skirt to fly up and expose her panties to passersby giving them an unwanted show, so she took her time making sure every part was tucked under.

Sebastian was very patient and waited for her to tap him to indicate she was ready since the helmets muffled sound. 

Tonight's plan was to take a ride along the winding roads toward the mountains as the sun set over the land below. It had been a while since they last took this route and she was excited to see the gorgeous views again. 

Once satisfied with her modesty, she wrapped her arms around him and tapped him. 

Sebastian braced the bike and started it up. She pushed her face into his black leather jacket. The familiar oaky scent of the leather mixed with the metallic smell of the outdoors gave her a comforting warmth in her chest. She pressed her knees to the back of his jean-clad thighs, preparing for acceleration. 

With a loud rev, he sped off down the street and her heart pounded with adrenaline. She smiled wide from ear to ear as he picked up speed.

Her neighborhood passed in a flash, and then they were out on the open road. The sky was shades of blues, oranges, and pinks washing over the landscape. He took a right turn and then they were off on the long stretch toward the mountains. 

Sebastian picked up speed once they were in a less populated area.

She held on tight to him and kept her weight on the center of the bike. Her hands rubbed over his chest as she relaxed and enjoyed the scenery. There were tons of trees and valleys off to one side and large mountains growing on the right. 

At a red light, Sebastian brought his hand up to his chest and rubbed the back of her hand gently. She hugged him from behind and gave him some ‘I love you’ squeezes. He squeezed her hand back in return. 

They entered the mountain roads, speeding past forests and hiking trails. They hadn’t seen a car in miles.

The bike hummed pleasantly beneath her without the protection of the thick denim pants she usually wore. Then Sebastian revved the engine and it was more than pleasant. 

The vibration started rushing through her like an electric current. She blushed as the sensation continued. It was becoming a bit much. 

The only thing between her clit and the seat was the thin layer of cotton panties she wore. She breathed through it and tried to relax against his back. 

The engine revved higher and her fingers dug into his chest. She held him in a vice grip and shifted in her seat. 

The bike wavered and Sebastian turned his head for a moment to look back at her. He then quickly looked back at the road, keeping his eyes on it.

The vibration of the bike's seat felt even more incredible. She shifted minutely, trying not to make the bike come unbalanced but the assault to her clit was becoming too much. 

He sped off down the mountain road, but she wasn’t paying attention to the beautiful scenery anymore. 

Her legs were shaking and her stomach muscles clenched as shockwaves rippled through her core. The orgasm hit her like a bus. She gasped and clung to Sebastian, fighting the urge not to rock her hips for some delicious friction. 

The bike's unrelenting vibrations assaulted her now oversensitive clit.

She couldn’t stop the moans that escaped her as another orgasm was pulled from her. Her thighs clamped down on the bike as her body pulsed. 

Her cries of pleasure were audible in the wind as one orgasm melted into another and another. 

The seat and her panties were soaked from the wetness making the seat harder to stay on. She felt herself sliding, but the death grip she had on Sebastian kept her centered. 

She must have been knocking the air out of his lungs with the strength of her grip but there had been no reaction from him at all, even when she screamed out in pleasure. 

The vibrations changed slightly giving her a break from the strong ones she’d been accosted with, and the orgasms finally stopped. She was sweating and gasping for breath. 

She smacked his chest and could feel his body rumble with laughter. She smacked him again and he revved the engine higher and, oh, fuck… he was doing this on purpose.

Her clit throbbed to the point of pain as her body responded to the higher vibrations. She was on the brink of madness as more orgasms piled on top of one another. 

She started paying attention to her surroundings again when the bike began to slow, striking gravel. Her panting was more audible without the motorcycle engine and wind whipping past to drown her out. Her rapid breathing fogged the visor of her helmet.

The bike came to a stop on the side of the road next to an impressive view of the mountains and forest below. 

She was limp against his back as the bike gently purred. Small tremors ran through her body with every breath she took. He cut off the bike but her body continued to hum with the ghost of the intense vibrations. 

Sebastian waited a moment before carefully peeling her hand off him. The kickstand came down and he slid off the bike. Removing his helmet revealed his messy brown waves. He spit out his gum onto the ground and set the helmet down carefully. 

As he walked over to her wearing a shit-eating grin.

She glared at him, but it wasn’t effective with the helmet on her head. She yanked it off and Sebastian carefully took it from her, setting it on the ground. 

Her hair was a mess sticking to her sweaty forehead, her cheeks a deep red, and her lips plump and swollen from biting them. 

“You did that on purpose!” She spat, placing her hands in front of her on the seat to hold herself up. 

He lifted his brows with a smirk. 

“How many times?” Sebastian asked in a cool tone. 

“What!?” She huffed, still glaring at her boyfriend. 

"How many times did you cum on my bike? How many?" He took off his sunglasses and hooked them in his back pocket. He wouldn’t need them again tonight as the sun set. She could see the spark of excitement in his eyes. 

"I…. I don't know.." she adjusted in the seat and felt how slick it was. 

She was in a state and wanted him to be just as much of a frazzled mess as she was.

Her legs were like jelly as she tried to stand. She would not be embarrassed by the wetness she left on the seat, she refused. 

Before she could get off the bike, Sebastian crouched down and looked at her at eye level. His eyes looked almost predatory as his finger slid over her bare thigh. Her skin ignited with his touch as he moved up and up, pushing her skirt the farther he went. 

She could feel the slickness all over her thighs and knew her panties were absolutely done for. 

“How many?” His tone was serious, sending shivers down her spine. 

She held her breath as his fingers reached the soaked fabric. He nudged where her clit was and her body jerked. 

“I-I don’t know! …I lost count.” MC trembled under his touch and gaze. 

He hummed with a small smile.

“Get off the bike.” He rakes his hand through his hair as he stands and waits for her. 

She tried again but her legs were trembling so much it took her a moment. Her skirt was sticking to her thighs and she looked a mess. 

Sebastian helped her, placing his hands on her waist and guiding her off the bike. Her feet slid on the gravel as he pulled her against his body. 

“You made a mess of my seat.” His lips twitched in a smirk.

It was very obvious just how much of a mess she’d made thanks to the state of the dehydrated leather. 

The world tilted and her chest was pressed down to the wet seat, ass in the air. She braced her hands on the bike to hold herself up. 

Sebastian flipped up her skirt and tugged her panties down to her ankles. Then his mouth was on her and she gasped. He licked her slit eagerly, pushing her thighs apart to go deeper, licking more of her. He latched his lips on her clit and he sucked hard. 

MC fell apart, legs trembling as she gasped his name.

He lapped at her until she was soaked anew, making her aching cunt quiver. She was a blubbering mess, writhing in the firm grip he had on her thighs. She hissed as he dug his fingers into her leg, pressing harder, keeping her in place. He held her apart and ate her out more lively than she’d ever seen. 

Sebastian moaned against her pussy and she arched her back. His tongue felt like sin and she couldn’t form words. 

"The way you taste…" Sebastian didn't comment further. He just hummed a satisfied sound.

A cool burst of air struck her dripping heat and she groaned at the loss of his mouth. 

She faintly heard the sound of a zipper over her own hysterics. Then the thick head of his cock pressed against her aching entrance and her whimpering became begging.

“Oh! Yes, please! Yes, yes!”

“Gods,” He murmured.

He took far too long to press his cock into her. She wanted to be filled, she was begging for it, dammit!

Sebastian presses in and the blunt head of his cock pops passed the tight entry of her pussy.

He sucks in a breath and grabs her hips firmly. He pulls her body, forcing her to take him to the hilt as he stands completely still. 

It was a snug fit and he waited a moment, lightly rocking his hips while her body accommodated him. 

Her feet slid on the gravel trying to find purchase. 

Sebastian angled himself then struck that one spot that counted. He wasn’t gentle with her, his thrusts were hard and fast as his fingers dug into her hips. 

“I have every intention of fucking you until you scream.” His voice was gruff as he slammed home over and over. 

She knew what he was capable of. He would absolutely fuck her until nothing else existed but his hand digging into her hips, his cock filling her pussy, and her voice horse from screaming in pleasure. 

Thank fuck they were in the middle of nowhere on a lesser-known road. She wasn’t capable of caring a single bit if a van full of camera-caring tourists drove by at this moment and watched. She wasn’t herself and neither was Sebastian. He fucked her primally, rough and hard. 

She had no idea how the strength of his thrusts hadn’t tipped over the bike, she certainly wasn't helping matters. Her walls fluttered with the relentless pleasure and Sebastian hissed. She could feel it… she was right there yet again.  

“Cum,” He growled. He panted as he yanked her hips back and back in tune with his thrusts. 

It was like a switch was flipped and she was flying, screaming, cuming so fucking hard around his cock. Her whole body shook from the force of the orgasm, the bike and Sebastian’s vice grip being the only things to keep her upright as he continued to fuck her. 

His strokes were long and gentle as she rode out the last of her climax. She was almost sobbing, moaning in pleasure, and feeling the pain of just how overworked her poor pelvic muscles were. She was going to be sore for days.

She whimpered, catching her breath, and finally looked up to see the view before them. Gods, she wished she cared, she really did, but he was picking up speed again. The wet sounds of skin on skin and her cries echoing were the only noises around. 

She pressed her forehead to the seat and hung on for dear life. He pulled her hips to meet every one of his thrusts. She lived for the soft grunts that escaped him, his small moans and heavy breaths as he used her body to seek his own pleasure. 

He squeezed her hips again digging his fingers in hard. She couldn’t possibly cum again, but he reached around and started teasing her clit, and… Fine! She guess she could cum again, and gods, it hurt so fucking good. 

Her vision went blurry and her eyes filled with actual tears. 

Sebastian’s grip tighten one last time as his hips slapped against her body. His cock pulsed and he moaned. He rested his chest against her back. His cock pulsed as he slowly rocked his hips through his pleasure.

Tears fell from her eyes and she wiped them off on her sleeve. It was all very overwhelming to her spent muscles.

He panted into her hair as he caught his breath. Her heart pounded against the seat, blood rushing and throbbing behind her eardrums. 

Finally, Sebastian released his bruising grip from her hips and rested his forearms on the seat on either side of her.

A quiet moment passed over them and then he was softly kissing her all over the back of her neck, biting her favorite spot below the ear. 

Wetness started cooling on her thighs as they settled there. She wanted nothing more than to be back at home in her bed with him, curled up and sleeping in his arms.

Sebastian huffed and stood up, pulling out of her more gently than usual. She nearly fell to her knees but he caught her. He chuckled and tugged her close to him, wrapping his arm around her and looking down. His chest rose and fell quickly as a smile tugged at his lips. 

She loved that his hair was sticking to his forehead as well and his cheeks were a nice rosy shade of red. He was nowhere near her level of disheveled, but it was a nice sight. 

“Think you can survive the ride back?” He kissed her forehead.

“Do NOT do that thing again!” 

He laughed and picked up her helmet off the gravel. “Fine, fine.” He smirked. 

“How did you even figure something like that out!?” MC took her helmet from him. 

“I was doing a bit of research on my bike, and-”

“Of course you were,” She cut him off. He knew too damn much, always researching this, and studying that. She glared at him for good measure before putting her helmet back on, making sure it was the last thing he saw. 

Sebastian smiled wider and kissed the forehead portion of her helmet before placing his back on. He tossed her a rag from his back pocket to wipe herself down with. He found her panties on the ground and quickly swiped them up, putting them in his jacket pocket. He took a seat and watched her in silence.

“...So romantic,” She said in a monotone voice, taking the rag to her thighs.

He observed as she cleaned up, resting his arms on the bike handles before pointing to her inner thigh. “Missed a spot.” 

She smacked his arm away. “Start the bike, Asshole!” 

His laugh rumbled from under the helmet, then the bike roared to life.

.

.

.

I like how the first words she says are the entire theme of the fic. That was a total accident. 

Thank you for reading! 

This was influenced by a fic I read like 5 years ago now about how motorcycles can be revved juuuust right to make someone get off. So, sorry if some motorcycle stuff wasn’t accurate. I’ve never owned one lol.

Masterlist is in my bio.  

[blu3-ja3]

Has the brain rot taken over again? Yes. Do I care? No!

Feast my lovelys and enjoy!

Scars? Scars... 141 Major Scars? (If there are canon scar/stories NUH UH) They all have tons of smaller scars from bullet grazing, shrapnel, and stitches.

!TRIGGER WARNING! Semi-Graphic depictions of injuries and violence

Maevis O'Connor

• A small one above her left eye and a bullet scar above her hip. A parting gift from one of Graves's men when he betrayed them that night at Las Almas. O'Connor lost her radio and a great deal of her medical supplies in her pouches and pack while retreating. She was able to find a motorcycle in Las Almas and made a quick retreat towards the safe house Alejandro told her and Ghost about. She had to wait and hoped that Ghost and Soap would arrive safely. Coaching Radalfo through removing a bullet cleanly from a gun shot wasn't fun but had to be done for her to field dress herself properly.

• She has a pair of bullet hole scars, one mid left torso and the other upper left thigh, she got them when she was serving under Price, when she was a fresh face combat medical sergeant and he a newly promoted Lieutenant.

• Her largest scar is her burn scar, she retrieved it from an improvised napalm bomb going off in her medical tent. She has 3rd degree burns on her right shoulder, clavicle, and chest. 2nd degree up her neck to her ear and jawline, down her right arm and hand, it goes down to her right hip. The day after she woke up she was informed most of her medical team was dead and she was now the captain of a new squad... She contacted Price not long after, needing a change of pace and knew her old CO's offer to join whatever team he was apart of still stood.

John Price

• A large knife scar on his lower back, it was from his early days as a sergeant. Was ambushed while in a sniper nest managed to get away and live another day.

• Large scar starting from left clavicle to mid back, from being cut by a stray piece of shrapnel. IED went off while Price was nearby. That was the first time he got to watch the new combat medical sergeant put her skills to serious use and he knew O'Connor was going to be a great asset to anyone on or off the field and offered her a permanent position with his squad at any time.

• Large burn scar on right hip caused by a Molotov in close quarters. Gaz has a burn from the same one, Price still beats himself up over not seeing the hostile in time, not protecting Gaz from the horrible experience that is being burned alive and trying desperately to put yourself out.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

• Facial scars: Piece of upper right lip scared and missing (you can see a bit of teeth but that doesn't stop Soap from kissing him), a large scar across his nose bridge and both cheek bones, and another on the left side of the neck to behind left ear. Tons of little scares and burns. All are from when he was tortured and buried alive in Mexico, he was young and still pretty green but that changed after digging himself out of his own grave. He got his revenge and a stupid rank promotion to sergeant.

• Burn scars along the back of shoulders and neck, bullet scar in gut from being shot and burnt alive after being betrayed. As a sergeant and Roach was a private their LT betrayed them, shooting both and leaving them to die while escaping a burning building. Ghost saved them both but not without some scars. Not long after is when Price contacted them and offered a spot on the 141.

• Heavily discoloration under right pectoral from exit wound bullet scar from sniper shot to back while escaping from Shadow Company... He found that sniper nest later in the church and made it his own. While waiting for Johnny to get to him Ghost tried his best to clean and wrap the injury. He'd suffered worse than a gun shot wound and did everything he could to guide Soap to some safety. Safer together than apart.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

• A large knife scar from his hip, down the back of his left thigh, stopping at his knee. It's a nasty scar he got when an enemy used his hip to be an anchor point to stop him from continuing his fall... Gaz kicked the asshole off of him but not before he was given one hell of a parting gift. O'Connor had to give him field stitches which were not fun. It took him weeks to get back to his normal state and even longer to be redeployed.

• Most of his back, shoulders and neck has 2nd degree burn scars from the same Molotov that got Price as well. Gaz does his best to comfort Price every time the man sees the scar and gets the thousand mile stare.

• Three bullet wounds all close together on his upper right shoulder. Injuries from exploding the chemical production plant with Farah, Price, and Alex (Alex survives btw he stayed with Farah after the plant was destroyed)

Gary "Roach" Sanderson

• Roach has a large portion of his upper left torso, back and neck covered in second degree burn scars, this scar also burned the lower left side of his face, cheek and ear. He's got slight hearing and speech issues due to these burns so he's taken up BSL and has taught the core team BSL for the days he doesn't or can't talk.

• More burns but not as severe (only first degree) on his feet and calves from when a helicopter he was piloting caught fire when he performed an emergency landing and dragging himself out of the helicopter. Roach got to experience the wonders of field dressing a burn.

• Has two bullet scars on his right side, one at his clavicle and another above his hip a gut shot. Both bullet scars and the larger burn scar are from when he and Ghost were betrayed by their lieutenant and left to burn.

John "Soap" MacTavish

• Soap's facial scar happened at the same time he got the burn scar on his lower back and the puncture scar on both back and front of his left side hip. He had a piece of rebar stuck through after a large explosion sent it and him flying. He cut his face as he landed on a rock.

• Minor chemical burns scars on both left and right hands, mostly from the copious times the young man went about making an improvised explosive while out on the field. O'Connor; in order to prevent herself and Soap from having to field dress his hands, has started carrying an extra set of close fingers gloves. Ghost started to do the same as they're often paired together. It gets to the point that everyone on the 141 will pull out an extra set of gloves when Soap begins mumbling to himself about explosives and nearby components.

• He has two bullet scars from when Graves shot him that night in Las Almas, one above his right hip both front and back, another on his upper left clavicle close to his neck. Adrenaline is a hell of a thing and so is anger, one of these injuries alone would put a grown man on his ass. So when he and Ghost finally got to the safe house and had a moment to relax, his body responded by going into shock. O'Connor with much needed assistance from Ghost got the wounds cleaned packed and wrapped. O'Connor still doesn't know how he managed to do all he did those following days.

(If I've misspelled something let me know, English is not my first language... Well it is but I'm more fluent in dumb bitch or as many call it dyslexia!)

[annabtg]

Okay so what are your favourite lilypad hc's? 🤩

Oooh Lilypad hc's?? Don't mind if I do! 🤩

As previously stated, Sirius is very soft for Lily. To the point that makes everyone go "who is this guy and what have you done to Sirius Black". They will tease each other, have their arguments at times, but he never snipes with malice at her or show her this bored/haughty side others see.

Lily is very much the same right back. I think they have this mutual understanding that the other hasn't got much love in their lives and they've put up shields to protect themselves; so they try to be a safe place for each other. They know the other appreciates and understands them and they find comfort in each other.

They are very handsy and physical. You will always find Lily sitting on his lap or Sirius holding her close. Not kissing and snogging in front of others, however. That's something that's only their own.

And god damn it they need their alone time. Every day. They look like such a balanced and cool couple to outsiders, with how they're not jealous and have their separate friends etc., but if they don't have some alone time every day (night, preferably) they will burst.

They do a lot of Muggle activities together. Go bowling, play poker, go to Muggle concerts. Sirius loves discovering new activities and Lily takes pleasure in showing/teaching him.

Unlike James, for whom gift-giving is a love language, Sirius and Lily are not very much into presents. They will give each other a gift on some special occasion, and it will be very thoughtfully chosen, but they're just as likely to leave a birthday go without a present if they haven't thought of anything good. Sirius has given Lily a couple of pieces of jewellery that she always wears and that's it for giving her any more wearable stuff. No clothing items, no lingerie, nothing like that. But he buys her these nice dress robes she needed to go to that wedding/event thing, because they went shopping together and why the hell not.

Books. Books books books. They are book nerds, both of them. Not literature, though - spellbooks, potions guides, science books, encyclopedias. They read them for fun and nerd out exchanging fun facts.

They're not the outdoorsy types the way James is - they're more activity oriented, like "let's go on a motorcycle ride" or "let's go stargazing" (they love stargazing together, and it's a very special activity for them). They won't just go out for a walk or a picnic.

They're also not foodies. Idk they just aren't. They both love tea, though.

They don't meet each other's family. Like, even in a universe where they stay together all their lives and there's no war and whatever, Lily drifts away from her family and Sirius is her person. I guess she invites them to the wedding, if there is one, but she doesn't care for family dinners and keeping in touch etc.. Being with him in all its effortlessness makes her realize there are some fucked up dynamics in her family that she doesn't need to put up with, and she definitely doesn't want to put him under their scrutiny.

Because yeah their being together is effortless. If it weren't, they wouldn't be together. Sirius would never make an effort to win a girl or change for anyone. He's a take it or leave it sort of person, and they just happen to fit so well they get and stay together.

And this is why if/when Lily falls in love with James, Sirius is like "okay then" and lets her be. What do you want him to do, beg? Put on a show to win her back? She's her own person with her own feelings. And James is a pretty great guy, actually, so good for her, really.

But there is no world in which they stop being physical. They may or may not stop having sex, but Lily would never get into a relationship with anyone who expects her to just stop sitting on his lap or snuggle close to him on the sofa. Their relationship, however long it lasts, is very deep, the kind of thing that leaves feelings that never go away, and their physical intimacy stems straight from that.

Thanks for this ask, I had a blast writing this :D

[ladyiristheenchantress]

Anniversary Witchcraft

As you all may or may not know, I am a married witch! I have spoken about my husband before in our motorcycles and car magic post, however I felt now would be an amazing time to talk about some of the rituals we do on anniversaries coming up! (September 17th to be exact) First of all, Happy 7 years darling, I am so proud to be your wife every day, and I am so grateful you have been my raven, my rock, and my partner in crime. I so adore you, and I cant wait to spend the rest of our time on the Tellus Mater together. Till death do us part, but even then we will remain ghosts on our record player. With that said, lets get started!

What is magical about an anniversary?

Much like any holiday, we create personal celebrations like birthdays, celebrations of life, and anniversaries to keep track of the time that has been spend together. It should be a celebration of love and strong living together! The first instance of a wedding anniversary comes from ancient Rome, where on each year of marriage the spouses would crown each other with things (more traditionally, the husbands to their wives) and on their 25th anniversary they would be crowned with a wreath of silver.

Later on, in 18th century Germany, people started a tradition of gift giving, and eventually created a yearly symbol you gift to someone as a tradition each year to ward off spirits, people looking to harm the bond, and even in some cases death itself!

Today we celebrate anniversaries around the world, whether you are recreating Armenian balance bread, or trying out Japanese senbazuru, however you choose to celebrate may it be unique and full of love!

Magical Ideas

Now we may need some spell and divination ideas for our anniversaries so here are some of the ones my husband and I love!

Follow the yearly gift guide! - This fun tradition is actually celebrated and honors world wide cultures because a lot of them had their own yearly traditions adapted into one! The old saying goes on your first year you give paper, the 5th you give wood, 10th you give aluminum, 25th you give silver, and 50th you give gold! These guides are a fun way to get connected to your relationship but also honors tradition which can strengthen your relationship magically!

2. Create a protection ritual for the year on your anniversary - when you start thinking about how to preserve your relationship you get a lot of factors you have to plan for. Every year my husband and I put obsidian arrowheads in the corner of our bedroom as a way to protect our sacred relationship! this process can be as simple or as complicated as you want it to be

3. Petition and honor deities of marriage - Each year my husband and I honor 3 gods, Hera, Aine, and Zepar! This is because we wanted to honor our pagan practices and heritage in our marriage, so we picked one hellenic for my history, one irish for both of our ancestoral line, and one infernal for my husbands history! We do also petition elemental spirits, and update them as we do our yearly river walk

4. Create a shrine to your relationship - We created an altar to dedicate all our gifts to each other, and important works of art we have created, when we put together a shrine for our love, it really helped up to feel connected, so we like to renew it every year

5. Do some divination about the year ahead - Feel free to use this custom spread I use each year! Its awesome if you can do this together! Additionally, you can use cafe astrology to create a free "birth chart" for the day and time of your anniversary

Other ideas?

For my 18+ friends, design a sensual ritual that involves all 5 senses to link yours together

Create a magical meal together to protect and honor the relationship

Create a joint journal or scrap book for memories

Exchange cards, gifts, and sweets to make the other person feel special

Enjoy a nice time out getting coffee or exploring a garden

Make the bed together, and do chores together during the day, then rest and relax at night

In general anniversaries are special! I will be making an age restricted post about sexual magic very soon so stay tuned for that! I hope all of my friends have enjoyed this post, and from our family to yours, happy anniversary!

Tip Jar

[yuurei20]

Epel Facts Part 37: Epel and Deuce (pt4)

As Epel and Deuce discuss blastcycles together during White Rabbit Fes and Grim observes, "They're in their own lil' world…"

(Their conversations seem to be describing vintage yankee fashion, and in the game guide Deuce is said to have a yankee influence. With Epel described as a “countryside juvenile delinquent” in the guide, both characters seem to have preferences for that aesthetic.)

(Epel even wonders if he might receive some of Deuce's old clothes in a voice line. Ace and Deuce's shared love for blastcycles also ties in to motorcycles often being associated with yankees.)

Epel says, "You'd never see a modded blastcycle back in Harveston" and "Bad kids and blastcycles were just something out of comics or TV shows. But then I started looking around on the internet. And I was shocked to find all that stuff was real! I was totally enamored," and one of his dreams was to "cruise around on blastcycles with my pals wearing matching leather jackets!"

(During the event he says that the White Rabbit Fes, with its matching outfits and "running wild," is just what he had always dreamed about: "Sure, there won't be blastcycles, and these costumes don't exactly scream 'bad boy.' But we're up against the toughest dudes in town!")

This explains Epel being enamored with Deuce before they met: Epel says he heard about a particularly troublesome person in Clock Town named "Cold One Duke," with whom he was "obsessed" when he was in middle school.

By the end of the event this revealed to have actually been "Cauldron Deuce," but Deuce denies it, and Epel never realizes that he is actually friends with his former idol.

Deuce says that he never imagined that Epel had “a hot-blooded streak” like his own, offering to introduce Epel to a talented embroiderer.

Deuce and Epel’s shared interest in fashion is touched upon throughout the game, with Deuce getting Epel a cap with a patch on it for his birthday, Epel gifting Lilia with a jacket with an embroidered tiger (that matches a jacket Epel himself owns) and Epel and Deuce shopping together for Trey’s birthday present: they get him a hat, after regrettably vetoing styles with spiked studs and embroidered flames that went over the gift budget.

Epel says that he is actually disappointed by Deuce's hometown, saying that he had "figured the town would be awash in modded blastcycles, with delinquents getting into fights all over the place."

Silver says Epel must have been hoping for a chance to protect his friends but Ortho observes, "I'm not sure protecting us was the first thing on Epel Felmier's mind..."

[thatwritterbeach]

So About that Alley .4

Jason Todd x ofc Alex

Dc masterlist ALL OTHER PARTS FOUND HERE

Unedited***Also I swear Tumblr is messing up my spelling on purpose cuz everytime I re-read something I know I fixed it's wrong again

Alex: short, curvy, red hair, green eyes, redheads go through pain meds way faster than normal people to the point I personally don't even take them, it's a joke, they last 30 min at best

Summary: Alex finds out her bf is red hood, after she spills some not so great secrets to the masked man while stitching him up.

Warnings: Vaginismus* angst, sexual assault, self-harm, depression, drug use by Alex, violence, cursing, NSFW, smut, thigh riding, vaginal fingering, guided masturbation?, p in v (not overly described), pain during s*x, hiding said pain, hickeys?, self-hate, insecurities, eating disorder, weight loss

A/N: I do not own dc booho

sorry ya'll I did not mean to release the last part, it was gonna be longer so here's this one at top speed

Arriving at a huge menacing manor, the Wayne manor, in your pajamas on the back of a motorcycle while the driver is decked out in bright right flannel is...odd. Jason held the bike steady while she wiggled off then he engaged the kickstand and lifted himself off with ease. Alfred met them at the door and took her gear and Jay's helmet.

"Everyone is in the dining room, master Jason."

"Thanks, Alfred." Alex, unsure what to do gave him a thankful nod and clung to Jason as he led them through the maze of insanity.

"I don't think I can do this Jay," sh whispered, slinging the large bag she carried further up on her shoulder.

"Of course, you can," he assured her pulling her further into his side. They entered what she would calla dining hall where everyone was already sat, having what appeared to be a heated argument.

"I win the bet, cuz I said she was real," Tim yelled.

"No, I win for being right about how long it would take him to bring her here," Dick said back throwing a chunk of bread at him.

"Boys!" Bruce tried in vain.

"I win-" Damian began but was cut of by Jason's two finger whistle. All eyes shot to the door where Alex was very busy faking confidence, moved away from Jay, shoulders back, head up. Bruce was in a suit much to her embarrassment but Dick was in sweats and a long sleeved shirt, Tim wore something similar, and Damian was in a matching silk set that probably cost more than her entire wardrobe but he was participating.

"Tt she's small," Damian scowled.

"I think you mean short, like you pipsqueak," she snarked back before Jason could get after the demon spawn.

"Hhhmf," he replied raising his chin to the side in a holyer than though manner.

"Play nice, Damian," Bruce commanded softly rising from the table to greet her. Mentally freaking out, knowing what was coming she hesitated in her step to meet his outstreched hand.

"Not a friend of Dick's then," he accused, scowling down at her superman shirt.

"I didn't know if you were aware Jason was alive." She lied her ass off. She just recently found out he was Robin so of course she couldn't have told Batman anything other than a lie. Jason caught the inconstancy and frowned.

"What are you talking about," Dick asked joining their little group.

"Caught this one in an alley with a dealer last night, said she knew you, as Robin, Wing and Dick."

"How did you-" He turned an accusing eye on Jason who lifted his hands in defense.

"I've known for years dude, chill. It's not that hard to figure out, the suspiciously large and rich family is the suspiciously large and tech happy hero group."

"So you know everyone?"

"Yep, Superman and everyone too. "

"Dang," Tim jumped in from his seat.

"Why were you in an alley with a dealer," Jason asked what everyone was thinking.

"Getting information before some dude in a cape messed it up." Another lie.

"info on what?"

"His supplier."

"That's my job." She shrugged and moved past everyone to the table.

"I come barring gifts," she said setting the bag on the table to pull things out. "For Dick, a signed copy of (insert circus memorabilia here), for Tim, something to help you sleep and some very strong tea to help with that caffeine addiction. Damian, a travel sized chess board, we can play sometime if you like."

"Thanks," came the collective reply. Jason was still giving her the ' we will talk about this at home look' but she was ignoring him as she sat. After a surprisingly painless dinner with Damian only insulting her three times, Jason standing with a knife in hand, and Dick calming everyone back down they managed to make it to dessert.

"None for me," she told Alfred quietly as he started to place a bowl of some fancy pastries in front of her. She'd already subtly inquired on the carb count of the food which he answered with a slight brow raise.

"You feeling ok," Jason asked from beside her happily munching on his and her portion of sugar.

"Fine," she replied with a soft smile reaching past her full wine glass for water. She never drank and certainly not when she knew she was going to have to drug herself the second they walked into her apartment.

"If you don't like red we have white," Dick said, gesturing to her glass.

"I don't drink."

"Oh, master Jason didn't tell me."

"Sorry, must have slipped my mind." Like hell, he had no idea she didn't drink, he's never seen her drink but just assumed...what he wasn't sure but not that she didn't drink. Dessert done they moved to the 'sitting room' with some sodas, and Alfred plated soft soft music in the background.

"care to test your new board," she asked Damian.

"Tt, like you would be a worthy opponent."

"It's ok if you're too chicken, I get it, I'm intimidating." she said flexing her muscles. With an eye roll he sat cross legged on the floor and began setting up the pieces. She mirrored his pose and set up her side. off to the side where she couldn't see Jason moved his head to indicate to Dick he needed a word and the two moved off without a sound.

"Thanks for the clothes," Jason started, crossing his arms and leaning back against the wall of the long hallway they were in.

"No problem, did she seem more relaxed?"

"Better than expected."

"So what was it you wanted to ask me that couldn't be texted?"

"When I...died, were you sad?"

"What the hell kind of question is that, Jason, of course, I was a wreck. What's going on, are you ok?"

"I am."

"But you don't think she is," he stated.

"I think she'd lying about when she found out I was hood. Three weeks ago I got so beat up from a fight I knew I wouldn't make it anywhere else so I broke into her apartment, key work broke, I had to shatter a window she was pissed. And she found me passed out in the bathroom, and started stitching me up-"

"Dude," he whisper yelled.

"Let me finish. She was talking to me like I was redhood not like she knew it was me, she was asking for advice."

"On what?"

"How to tell her boyfriend she couldn't have sex, because she was," he paused and pulled Dick closer to him to whisper the next part," assaulted when she was younger and it makes it horribly painful."

"No, did she tell you who?"

"He's dead."

"Good."

"She also said she cuts herself," again the smallest whisper.

"Why would she tell him and not you?"

"The next day she said she knew I was hood all along and she was playing a sick joke to get back at me for breaking her window and lying."

"Rude but seems fair."

"Then she initiated sex. Just pulled me into the bedroom and-"

"I don't wanna hear this,"Dick whines shaking his head to clear the image.

"We've had sex everyday twice for three weeks in a row," he said exasperated.

"That's..."

"A lot, it's a lot so either she has insane drive or..."

"She's expertly distracting you," he finished for him.

"I haven't seen any scars or fresh cuts, but I know she's damn good at makeup she's always perfectly covered my scar," he said pointing to his cheek, where it wasn't even visible in the low light.

"So hide her makeup."

"I've thought about it but I don't want to tip her off, or make her panic."

"So you want my help?"

"I think," deep breath," I think I can't do this alone, I can't watch her 24/7 and be there when she might need me."

"Do you want her to move in here?"

"God no, she'd kill me. Maybe now that you've all met you could invite her over, or stop by 'randomly' when I'm out."

"I'm in bloodhaven now, I can't just-"

"I know, I know, but you're here like every other weekend and that'll have to be enough. Maybe the demon spawn would agree to watch her."

"Tt, she's not your pet, Todd," came an irritated voice next to them.

"How much did you hear?"

"Just that she'd kill you." Eye roll.

"She's not well, demon spawn, and I worry about her safety," Jason ground out trying to keep his voice down.

"You think she hurts herself, what insanity, even for you, Todd."

"Look, kid-"

"Don't start. Damian, you seem to tolerate her enough not to kill her, a win if you ask me, and she needs company while Jason is out. You really can't stop by once a week for chess?"

"As a favor to her, not either of you," he agreed, turning to leave the imbeciles.

Eventually making their way back into the room the boys were shocked to find Alex, still on the floor, body pointed to the tv playing a racing game with Tim. Single handing the controller she expertly steered around the corners and used her other hand to play Damian at chess, eye dancing back and forth, and maintaining a conversation with Bruce.

"What the fuck," Jason exclaimed.

"I used to do this all the time, well not this, but multitasking, it's been so long since I've gotten to use my brain," she said with such glee.

"Are you saying I dumb you down?" There was no real hurt in voice, just un-subtle awe.

"Love you too." She replied and went back to talking to Bruce about...politics? She was talking politics with the vigilante billionaire and it was civil! The game ended, with Alex in 1st and Tim hung his head in shame but ultimately leaned over to shake her hand.

"Tt, so incompetent she beat you one handed," Damian accused.

"Tough talk for somebody that just set me up to take four pieces," she tsked back at him.

"Shit," Damian muttered uncharacteristically.

"Language," Dick said with a laugh.

"Boop, boop, boop," Alex sang as she hopped a single checker around the board taking the last of Damian's pieces.

"I suppose you're competent."

"Why thank you," she mock bowed. "Care to try your luck," she directed at Dick who was leaning on the arm of a large comfy looking chair.

"Why not, you gonna play Tim and Damian at the same time to at least give me a small chance?"

"If you want?" He nodded so she helped Damian set up a second board of checkers just a few inches from the first so she wouldn't have to move. Dick shrank practically had to fold himself to fit on the floor and only slightly invaded Damian's space, not on purpose.

Again she won on all fronts and Jason was practically buzzing with pride.

"You never told me you were smart!" At the look she sent him he waved his hands quickly. "No wait! Not how I meant it, of course you're smart."

"Such a way with words," she praised helping clean up the games.

"Are you leaving," Tim whined.

"I gotta work tomorrow, sorry kiddo."

"I'm like a year younger than Jason."

"A small child," Dick said wiping a fake tear.

"But a small boy," Jason reiterated.

"Hardly out of a booster seat," Bruce joined.

"It was only yesterday I was helping you into a chair master Tim."

"I hate you all."

"Aww, he loves us," Alex cooed reaching over to pinch his cheek," and fyi I'm two years older than Jason."

"Practically a cougar, I felt hunted when she asked me out."

"Yeah, why did I do that again?"

"You got me," Dick seriously stated.

"Tt, she would never chase you Todd, I bet you had to beg for this lovely creature."

"What he said," she agreed pulling Damian into a crushing hug resting her chin on his shoulder since the were the same height. Everyone held their breath expecting a fight but he looped his arms around her and squeezed back, just for a second before wiggling away from her in over-exaggerated disgust.

"I demand a rematch this Thursday," he said curtly and left the room.

"Thank you for coming," Bruce said shaking her hand in an awkward manner.

"Come visit anytime," Dick said pulling her into a hug, and extra long one just to make Jason's eye twitch.

"Let me know when you're online," Tim softly demanded with a hug.

"I don't have any online games, still use my old GameCube and Wii."

"That's cool."

Finally making it out the door she resisted the urge to exhale in relief. Wary of Jason getting concerned.

"That went well," he remarked upon entering her apartment.

"It did," she said softly faking a yawn in hopes of him heading back to his place or insisting they turn in. He went back and forth between their apartments, needing to keep a space for all his gear.

"So about that alley?"

"Not tonight, please."

"Why were you out at all?"

"Red hood is big and scary and gets what he wants with fear yes?"

"I guess?"

"So, short redhead come around asking what you sell and for how much what do you assume."

"That you aren't a threat," he conceded with a scowl.

"so if the short none-threat asks innocent sounding questions like. I may need some tomorrow where are you gonna be, my friend wants to buy but can't leave his place any chance you make house calls. I'm looking for a side job any chance I can meet the boss for an interview?"

"You didn't."

"I did, maybe, he's getting back with me." Lie lie lie.

"I'm going."

"You are not, if they even think I've been tailed you might as well shoot me yourself, I can handle it, if I can't I know how to get in touch. Now please let's go to bed." The whine in her tone made him cave, for now. Thanking her lucky stars he was tired and they skipped the sex she fell into the deepest sleep she'd had in months.

8-10-24 see masterlist for more

[mama-qwerty]

I'm surprised nobody's really brought it up all that much, but it's really sweet that the origin of Knuckles' iconic hat in this continuity is that Wade took it from his opponent after beating him once his training was complete but gave it to Knux presumably as thanks

It's probably the first gift Knuckles had ever received, and to get it after his protégé (and friend) won his first real battle would have been such an honor for the echidna.

~~~

Knuckles made his way off the porch, approaching Wade as the man parked the motorcycle in the driveway. Wendy and Wanda had headed back into the house, muttering to each other about how they couldn't believe Wade had survived.

It was odd. The ladies didn't seem all that concerned about their son and brother. Perhaps they held more faith in the man than they let on?

Wade stepped off the bike, pulling his helmet off as Knuckles neared.

"Well done, Wade!" he boomed, bringing a fist to his chest. "You have proven yourself a fine warrior."

Wade gave a little laugh as he leaned back to pop his spine.

"Yeah, I guess I had something more in me than I thought! A little of that warrior spirit. Thanks to that vision I had." He turned and went to a knee to come more eye-to-eye with the echidna. "And thanks to you."

Knuckles shook his head. "I did nothing. Merely guided you on your warrior's path."

"You believed in me when absolutely no one else ever did. You took a chance that I wasn't just some joke. I . . . I really appreciate that. Thank you."

"You have more strength than you know, Wade. I merely helped you see that."

"Well, you really know your stuff. And as a way of saying thank you . . ." Wade pulled a worn brown leather hat from behind him, with three star emblems on the front. ". . . I want you to have this."

Knuckles flicked his eyes from the hat to Wade. "You . . . a gift?"

"A trophy. Jack loved that thing and I think it would look much better on you."

The echidna reached forward and gently took the hat, moving it this way and that as he examined it. He'd never received a gift before. And certainly not one that held as much meaning as this one. He looked back to Wade, who watched him with a little smile.

"I . . . I will accept your gift, Wade Whipple," Knuckles said, perching it on his head. "Thank you."

Wade's smile widened as he pushed himself back to his feet. "Looks good on ya. Seriously. Makes you look taller."

Knuckles smiled, pushing his chest out as he pulled himself up to his full height.

"Come Master Knuckles," Wade said, deepening his voice as he assumed a similar stance. "Your apprentice needs some aspirin. And maybe some more coffee. Woof. I'm beat."

The echidna nodded, and followed his friend back into the house.

~~~

Blah. It's early and I'm pretty rusty.

[writingfics-passingtime]

Omg the mixtape requests!! I love the idea!!

The song: like a tattoo by Sade with Bucky Barnes! Specially from the min 1:35 to 2:03 I think you’ll love it x fem reader

The Scar of Age

This drabble is part of JJ’s Mixtape - a mini series based on my followers’ favourite songs and characters. You can read more of them here!

Song Prompt: Like a Tattoo

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader (romantic, no pronouns used)

Word Count: ~2350

CW: Talking about death and killing, reader has killed people on a mission, kissing, allusions to rough kissing/six (consensual), overwhelmed response that could be interpreted as a panic attack (but isn’t intended to be one)

Note: Thank you for your beautiful request, anon !! (I wrote this for a female reader and then realised no pronouns/gendered descriptions were used, so have tagged it accordingly) When I heard this song the image I instantly had was riding a motorbike through a snowy mountain road, and what was supposed to be a steamy little safe-house number turned into something a little more heavy. I was so inspired by the lyrics of this song, thank you for sharing 💜

The war is still raging inside of me // I still feel the chill // as I reveal my shame to you // I wear it like a tattoo

It’s been growing for months. This budding, rising magnetism alive between you and him. Still unspoken, still untouched, now unfettered.

It started not long after he returned from Wakanda. The attraction was instant, the pull soon became hard to resist but, by the gods, you resisted it with all you had. You kept a respectful and professional distance where possible. He’d been through a lot.

But the breathing room has seen it grow beyond control and now, for the first time in forever, you and Bucky are going to be truly alone.

The frostbitten air bites at your leathers as you snake up the icy switchbacks, giving and taking on the throttle, gently guiding the electric motorcycle through the snowy mountain roads towards somewhere out of the way. To the solitude you had been gifted.

He's sitting behind you, and though he’s an anchor of his own his hands are on your waist. It distracts you more than once and you're sure he knows it because he firms his touch when the bike slows from your wayward thoughts. If he dared to broach the subject, you'd blame the ice on the road. Or would you?

The night had been long and rough. Snowcapped mountains begin to glow as you ride to one of Stark's more isolated houses. The beauty of the new day only makes you feel worse after the events of the night; three enemy guards, dead by your hand.

They will never see another sunrise.

Sure, you had an important job to do to keep the public safe, and sure, they were trying to kill you, but damned you'd be if every life ended by your hand didn't eat away at you.

The dirt feeling that gnaws at your gut is your only place of solace because it still hurts. If it ever stopped hurting, you'd walk away for good. Steve promised to help you disappear if that day comes.

Steve. A wry smile threatens to burst under the helmet as you finally see the house in the distance. Steve is the one who rostered this assignment, knowing where it was, knowing the airspace would be tightly monitored the days after your mission, knowing whoever was assigned to it would need to be under the radar until extraction would be less risky. A few nights at least.

He had arranged all of this in front of a room full of highly-perceptive people. No jibing comments were thrown from the other seats, which was so unusual that awkwardness rushed into the void. The panic of perception started to sink in your bones but when you met Bucky’s eye, you stilled. You ceased to wish the ground would swallow you whole the moment his usually stony glare was soft, almost apologetic, as if he was afraid you’d think he’d done this to get you alone. You didn’t smile, hyperaware of the eyes all around, but the look you returned to him seemed to smooth his frayed edges.

Now, there are no prying eyes. Your quickening heartbeat becomes the score of your final stretch towards this unusual hollow of privacy. The house comes more into view. It’s at the end of a straight stretch of road. You tilt your wrist and roll the throttle. As the bike picks up speed, Bucky’s hands slide from your waist down to rest at your hips. It makes your toes curl inside your boots, and you have to hone your focus on the house you’re fast approaching.

The sharp and grey abode look harsh yet at home nestled into the snow-covered bedrock, and the unforgiving structure looks strange bathed in warm pink sunlight. It’s one of those boxy houses made of cool concrete and glass that looks as if it should always be shrouded in cloud cover, but the windows are alive with the rising sun and it pulls a sad smile to your lips.

You ease the bike to a stop when you reach the gate. Both yours and Bucky’s right feet meet the ground to hold the bike as you punch the code into the gate, which opens along with a hidden garage door beneath the house towards which you slip through the fenced doors and quickly guide the bike down a ramp.

The lights gradually flick on as you slow the bike to its final stop next to a few others. You dismount with haste and pull your helmet and gloves off, blowing hot air on your fingers as you rub your hands together. Bucky swings his leg off the bike and removes his own helmet. Strands of his chestnut hair come loose from the knot at the nape of his neck, striking something real and imperfect against his cold-flushed cheekbones. You steal only a quick glance at his rugged tired eyes before he nods his chin towards a staircase that goes up. “Go warm up. I’ll unload.” All you can do is nod, thankful that you can skip off to find a hot shower. The cold is turning painful and the house, though industrial and cavernous, is already pleasantly warm. It isn’t ridiculously large though, and it doesn’t take you long to find a bedroom.

Earlier on in your career, the preparedness of these houses used to haunt you. Somehow, they always had fresh clothes in your size ready and waiting in the wardrobes. Now, you’re desensitised to it all. It’s just another part of the job.

The hot spray is soon welcoming you to your place of rest, easing that chill that had set into your bones, reminding you that you are now safe. Alone. Your pulse drops to your stomach, you breathe through it, and hope you’re not emanating something less savoury than contentment at being here alone with Bucky.

You’re soon dressed and in an industrial-styled kitchen that overlooks a sprawling, picturesque landscape. The floor is warm beneath your socked feet, a feature of the house, and the fridge is stocked for you to begin preparing some food to tame snarling stomachs. Somewhere in your field of sound, the spray of another showed subsides. That pulse picks up again and you focus on cracking some eggs into a white ceramic bowl.

Bucky needs a lot of food, that much is obvious, with the super serum cranking his metabolism, and a lot of protein at that. You’d just finished off breaking the last of the dozen eggs into the bowl when your companion enters the kitchen without a word.

You look up at him, because it would be weird not to, and give a brief, tight smile before opening a drawer in search of a whisk. His brief and welcome hand meets the small of your back as he passes behind you, making his way to start cutting the vegetables you put on the bench. It sends a surge of abashment through your nerves. You curl your toes against the smooth, strangely warm floor.

“I don’t mind cooking.” Your fingers close around a whisk and you close the drawer with your hip.

His head turns in your peripherals so you meet his eye. His stare is soft, framed by the drag of a sleepless night, but not by a hopelessness they once held. He shrugs with one shoulder and almost smiles. “It’s nice to do something normal.” He turns back to the counter and picks up a mushroom, and your eyes roam over him.

The African sun had been kind to him, tinting his skin with pinprick freckles and a tan that had almost faded. His hair holds the summer too. He keeps it pulled back but the shorter pieces frame his face and are laced with tiny threads of gold and the beginnings of grey. You can see the hues even through the post-shower dampness clinging to his waves. The colours are beautiful, you think, because they're signs of life lived after the stolen decades. Of all the scars, age is the only one he deserves. Maybe if you were a different person in a different life, you would've said it out loud. Romanticism doesn't seem to befit you. It feels too soft and too good.

He speaks again as soon as you turn back to the bowl.

“I should’ve got to them first,” he sniffs back the cold. “The guards.”

Your twirl your wrist to beat the eggs and keep your tone level. “I handled it just fine.”

“Yeah, well… I can see-” He lets a breath out and collects his thoughts. “I know y’don’t like it.”

You release your own deep breath through your nose, whisk stilling in your hand. “No one likes it, but it’s part of the job.”

He puts the knife down and turns his head towards you again. “I’m just saying… I can-”

“I don’t want you to do that for me, Bucky.”

Your voice is measured and the whisk doesn’t stop. You smooth a hand against side of the bowl and stare into the milky yellow mixture as it spins and spins and spins. He spent too long taking lives because other people couldn’t do their own dirty work.

“It’s not fair to you.” You sighed once, quickly, almost in a huff, before slowing the whisk again and correcting yourself. “It’s not fair to either of us, but that’s the way the world works.” Indecisive, you put down the utensil and turn your head towards him, shifting your eyes to his chopping board. His body heat skims your left arm. “I don’t want you to protect me from what has to be done. I don’t want you to see me as-”

The words die at your lips and Bucky’s head tilts. “As what?” He prompts in a gentle nudge. His hands are against the counter.

You close your eyes and smile involuntarily, so you force out a dry laugh to cover it up with a shake of your head. Every bit of air in your lungs is screaming out for him to come closer, to rid you of this mounting feeling inside, to break through this barrier of professionalism and fear that you wouldn’t be good for him.

“As one of them,” you can’t meet his eye. “As someone you have to kill for.”

You refused to be the reason he took a life. You weren’t going to do that to him.

You’d be no better than HYDRA.

He responds with something pained, something just above a whisper. “You know how I see you.” It’s not a question, nor an answer. It’s pure honesty simmering just below the horizon.

A strand of his hair is the first thing you feel as he draws closer. It ghosts along your cheekbone and catches the breath in your throat, only for a second though. Your eyes flit upwards, your chin lifts and turns ever so slightly towards him. You soften, to say yes. To say please. And it's all he needs.

His kiss is the opposite of what you expected. It's warm, and gentle.

It's a passion like you've never known.

There's this expectation, with passion, that the intensity should feel like a bolt of lighting or a supernova. Tension builds and builds and it's supposed to break. And sure, it's breaks, but so does the day over the darkness.

If the sun can pour dawn over the horizon, giving a gentle wake to the earth with rosy hues and still remain as powerful, who's to say something as good and inevitable surging through you at the speed of light has to explode. Why couldn't it fill you to the brim and stay full, keeping you bathed in a vivid sunrise.

Everything about him has been severe and guarded, until now. For the first time, while feeling the tenderness of his kiss, you consider that he hadn't built his walls so high because he wanted to keep others out but to keep himself in. You take note that his open palms are still on the counter. His hands were used for so much destruction, perhaps he didn't feel right putting them on you.

Your younger self would have resented his restraint. You would've goaded, chastised, pushed him away until he could meet you with a power you deserved. Why shouldn't he? You can take it; the fingertips sinking into you skin, storm-coloured bruises levied from fun, the gentle ache that pulses through your back from being pinned rough against a wall.

But you’re tired. Exhausted, even. Drained from tensing and flexing and always having to show every ounce of strength. Always a solider, silent and stoic. Always with a job to do. But maybe here, you were just a person.

He pulls away after several moments, still close enough for his breath to graze your lips. You don't look for his eyes because you know he won't meet you there. His tongue peaks out for half a second and he releases a breath before he lifts his head. The gentle warmth of his kiss lingers and emanates.

There's something inside you clawing to get out. A confession, maybe, or a sigh of relief. Or a declaration that you don’t deserve anything as good as what just happened. Whatever it is, it cuts through the air in a haggard little breath.

Sleep deprivation hangs like a thick chain around your neck, your hands are still numb with the lives you ended, you’re filled with an overwhelming warmth that you don’t feel worthy of. It all hits. Every fibre of you aches with the impact.

Bucky turns to steady you before you slouch against the counter.

Maybe he didn’t have to kill for you to make you feel okay. Because more than you could ever know, he gets it. He’s felt it, lived and bled it. All the shame and fleeting doses of heroism that make it all seem justified.

He holds you close. You bury your face in his shoulder with breath heavy and conflicted. His fingers curl against the base of your neck and his arm tightens around your waist, his sure breath is hot above your ear, his heartbeat loud in his chest.

His body say it so his words don’t have to:

I know.

[ijustwant2ride]

2022 Holiday Gift Guide for your Motorcycle Rider

2022 Holiday Gift Guide for your Motorcycle Rider

How about some ideas for that crazy motorcycle rider you love. Sometimes it can be difficult to figure out what to get for your motorcyclist during the holiday season so I made a list of those things that would appeal to most bikers. 9) Heated gear – We all “Just Want 2 Ride” right. The gift of heated gear will extend the riding season for weeks or months depending on where you live. 8) New…

[agenttwinklecreates]

Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. Inspired Christmas Wishlist

I've been watching a lot of Christmas gift guides recently so I thought I'll make one for the Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. Fandom! I will add why I have some of the items on my list but feel free to use your own reasonings!

Captain America Shield lego set - Phil Coulson being a Captain America fanboy is something that the fandom still holds up even if the show strayed away from that characterization. Coulson would totally have this displayed in his office.

Golden cross necklace - Hopefully this one's not a doom omen.

Hair chalk - Daisy Johnson changes her hair style and coloring every season, and I'm one of those people who want to look like her without making a commitment to permanent changes.

Daisy hair clip - Of course Daisy changing her name to her birth one is an important part of her character.

Telescope - Biochemist Jemma Simmons has several.

Astronomy books - Or any biology book really. Science is an important factor on the show, and astronomy/space is something FitzSimmons often discuss.

Renegades book trilogy - This trilogy is VERY Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. energy, and I won't stop recommending it! Currently on the second book, but the first one is so good!

Doctor Who full series - because we know FitzSimmons are fans, and I think they make several references in show? I don't know, but the majority of S.H.I.E.L.D. fans I know are also Doctor Who fans.

Leather jacket - Get it in black. There are also cosplay ones designed to look like the ones on the show that are great if you can afford them.

Ghost Rider chase lego set - This set's Ghost Rider has Robbie Reye's charger instead of Johnny Blaze's motorcycle.

Fingerless gloves - Something Daisy Johnson or Robbie Reyes would wear.

Monkey jellycat - So maybe Fitz might not be able to get a really monkey, but this one is the best monkey stuffed animal I could find.

Secret Warriors comics - Remember to post long essay comparisons about what they changed for the show.

Gym bag/Gym equipment - You can get a gym bag with the S.H.I.E.L.D. logo on it on Redbubble. Fight like Daisy Johnson!

Redbubble stickers - Support independent artists (post made by an independent artist) <3

Tahiti postcards - It's a magical place.

Red convertible hot wheel - Don't touch Lola.

[azurenightowl]

All atmospheric lights on, lense flare and slow pan over Coruscant. The night sky is a dark green, almost black, something like rainforest soil where thousands of years of ecological equilibrium cause it to teem with life. The night sky is the gateway to a galaxy filled with life. Stars like mischievous worms, eating up the detrius. Hyperspace lanes like mycelium, intelligent, sprawling. Living. Everywhere, life.

Zoom in. We’re on a street, and it’s busy despite the late hour. The night sky is grey now—there’s too much light pollution. Breathe in. Petrol. There’s a kebab van down one street, and a rotting cat down the other. The sky still a gateway, but here in the gloam it’s muted. Most people on this street will never get out of it, out of the neighbourhood. Klaxon, motorcycle, screaming. It’s not quite the underbelly—the dark one, darker than the sky is—but the defining feature here is the poverty. Dirty streets, but bright streetlamps. There are ghosts playing piano, slim-wristed, gaunt-faced. It’s out of tune, and accompanies a lone saxophone, dripping like rainwater into every person’s apartment. Damp, moldy apartments. There is no moon, only claire de lune.

Even in the slums, Coruscant gleams.

Zoom in further. There’s a man in dark robes. Dark brown, almost black but not quite. The fabric is fine, hand-woven by masters, but the cut is simple. He carries in his pocket an expensive jewel his lover gifted him, which he will not have the liberty to wear. Enter the hero: Anakin Skywalker, beloved, walks away from the apartment that only the two of them know exist, lost in thought. This was one clean. It smelled of antiseptic, kind of clean. There wasn’t a dishwasher but someone had to handwash the dishes and it wasn’t them, kind of clean. Somebody’s hands are wrinkled from washing the dishes, and it wasn’t them, kind of clean.

Close up on the hands. If you look carefully, you can see his hands are ungloved and perfectly white. Lady Macbeth killed herself out of guilt, you must remember, but the righteous do not jump off towers. They climb them—watch him climb the towers of Coruscant—and they nod in greeting to the guards, and they head home.

Anakin Skywalker, knight, walks into the Jedi Temple. Wide shot. It's a very large temple, but it's very small in this one, a gentle grey stone building, soft like dove-down and clouds, lit like an overcast day without rain. The rest of Coruscant is black brick and orange fire, infinite.

There are people milling about. An eclectic hectic mix of nocturnal adults and diurnal teenagers, and small, tiny ones, tripping into robes and giggling. A docent, coralling nine unruly figures into a line on the way to their midnight meal, is given a friendly pat on the back by their lineage brother, on his way home from a long mission.

The air hums—Coruscant gets warm but the air conditioning is good. It has to be, to support their plants through the summer. Anakin Skywalker, slave, is cold, never quite got used to these cooler temperatures. He starts to go back to his chambers for thicker, warmer dress, and stops. The clock chimes one, and he realises he has places to be. Close up of his frowning face.

He turns on his heel, and one of the younglings trips into him. He raises an eyebrow at them, they stutter out a cheery apology, and run back to their wearied and longanimous docent.

The tragedy here, in case you missed it, is the children running in these hallowed halls. Let the adults walk; these ones are small and haven’t learnt how tender is the sole of a foot. They’re laughing and they don’t quite yet know what it means to bleed.

Anakin Skywalker, murderer, signed up to teach a class. There’s a shortage of teachers, what with the war on. This is his way of giving back to this community which he loves.

For now, let him guide them through the first forms of lightsaber combat. Less katas, more yoga. There are some slackers, but fortunately that doesn’t matter as they won’t get to grow old enough to need it. These children will never see a warfront, because the frontlines will draw back to the heart of the temple and strangle them there. They won’t be old enough to understand what makes their deaths profane, why the camera must turn away from them.

Anyway, all of this to say that they enjoy the lesson. Anakin Skywalker, teacher, is relaxed, thorough, and funny.

Pan away. Please. This too is sacred, unwatchable.

Let them have this. They have so little, in the end. They are so little, in the end.

The night sky hangs itself outside the temple's grand windows, empty, empty, empty.

[thisisnotthenerd]

Happy New Year @shakespearestolemyurl !! I have the other half of your 2023 @d20exchange gift: Songs of the Celestine verses for the Bad Kids!

Group Verses

On occasion, an adventuring party will receive a set of verses that encompasses the group as a whole—these verses are sung together as opposed to individually. Often, these are written by a bard within the group, taking the form to detail the exploits of their own adventuring party.

This set of written verses regards the Solesian adventuring party known as the Bad Kids, who defeated Kalvaxus and the Nightmare King during their first two years at the Aguefort Adventuring Academy. The author of these verses is technically unknown, but it is believed that Fabian Seacaster, during his early bardic education, composed these verses for his friends using the form learned from his pirate father, William Seacaster, after he joined the College of Swords during the Bad Kids' quest to retrieve the Crown of the Nightmare King. 1

______________________________

Adaine Abernant-O’Shaughnessy:

A wizard born

To endless scorn

Who chose the face the fighting storm

Upon her word

That she has sworn

The elven oracle

She’s stolen books

And taken looks

At futures she has now forsook

From tiny nooks

She found the hooks

Now categorical

With arcane hands

She made her stand

A mage come far from foreign lands

And as she scanned

She made her plans

And broke her manacles

For now she is

Second to none

The oracle for everyone

And free at last

She’ll have her fun

Adaine the oracle

______________________________

Kristen Applebees:

The cleric chosen

For devotion

Her heart in ever-changing motion

Questions Couldn’t

Remain unspoken

The Prophet now come free

So determined she

Can’t be deterred

She tried to fly with a Ribbon dancer

Oh she stands sure

Even though her

Dex is negative three

From Helio

To Yes? Or no

She understands what can’t be known

In philosophy

She seeks to grow

Cassandra’s only priest

A cleric’s light

Within the night

Guides darkened paths with clear sight

She walks alight

And fears no fright

Saint Kristen Applebees

______________________________

Figueroth Faeth:

The rebel bard

Cannot be charred

Flamboyant in her disregard

With warlock spells

She will safeguard

Fig the InFaethable

She changes face

In every space

And plays with skill electric bass

She’ll catch your soul

And take your place

While playing rock’n’roll

She gave request

For Aguefort’s best

But something she could not have guessed

Was to the west

And in her nest

Writing wizard’s scrolls

She’ll drink some gin

No fear of sin

Her secrets kept behind her grin

But when you’re friends

She’ll let you in

Fig the InFaethable

______________________________

Gorgug Thistlespring:

Barbarian bound

To hear the sound

Of metal music all around

He oft confounds

And breaks the ground

Gorgug Thistlespring

He looked for meaning

In the gloam

For heritage to call him home

Child of orc

And man and gnome

he is now the crab king

He fuels with fear

an endless rage

He came from deathly forest aged

Who is his dad

He cannot gauge

Insight is not his thing

He wields his axe

And hammer too

He’ll call across the world to you

He fixed his phone

Made sending stones

it’s Gorgug keep going

______________________________

Riz “The Ball” Gukgak:

The roguish goblin

Killed a dragon

With deepest passion he was gobbling

He’s hidden when

He gets his shots in

Riz Gukgak? Nay, “the Ball”

With arquebus

And sword to choose

The briefcase where he keeps his clues

Or healer’s kit

And clue tattoos

He makes good use of them all

The little shrimp

Of the bad kids

When seeking clues do as he bids

While counting fingers

He shot Biz

He’ll commit assault

Though self-contained

With party in reins

He thinks at night with buzzing brain

He’ll ne’er refrain

And fears no pain

The fury of the small

______________________________

Fabian Seacaster:

The bardic fighter

Sheet igniter

Hellish motorcycle rider

With dance and fire

He will reach higher

Fabian Seacaster

Born to pirate

Legacy and

Elvish smiths and fighters free

He made his way

From land to sea

And faced disaster

The warlocks slain

‘Twas only him

And erstwhile friend, Chungledown Bim

And on a whim

From battle grim

He fled and fell even faster

And from that moment

He was changed

His skill in elvish dance now trained

With sword and sheet

And crossbow ranged

Fabian Seacaster

1 Given the personal nature of these verses, there are a few deviations from how the song is typically sung for pirate heroes. While titles and epithets commonly feature in the Songs, this rendition features continual references to titles endowed upon the Bad Kids, formal or otherwise, save Seacaster's own verses. These include: the Elven Oracle [Adaine Abernant-O'Shaughnessy], the InFaethable [Figueroth Faeth], the Blessed Saint [Kristen Applebees], the Crab King [Gorgug Thistlespring], and The Ball [Riz Gukgak].

[spicymoonmenace]

Hi hi!!! This is for the ask the characters event!

For the boys (Sun, Moon, Eclipse) any favorite flowers? If you got the choice of a vehicle, what would you prefer (like cars, trucks, motorcycles, ect...), any hobbies you are or would like to get into?

Moon, what's your favorite kind of drink to make?

Eclipse, if you had to choose, what kind of client do you prefer to deal with? What would you say your relationship with Dante is?

Sun, when you perform, are there any dances or performances you like more than the others?

Possibly Dante if he's taking asks, which of the boys is your favorite? How do you feel about Eclipse (in general). How would you describe yours and Eclipses relationship? How well would you say he functions and does his job?

Also, a little question for you, our lovely narrator! How are the characters perceiving us? Are we just voices? Clients or customers talking to them? How insane can we make this? Btw I love you and this au, it's such an interesting story already and your designs are so stunning! I love Sun and Moon so much.

Sun: My, my so many questions sweetheart!

Well, for flowers I'm very fond of daffodils! They're quite beautiful, so it's always a treat when I receive them! My choice of vehicle would be a motorcycle. I'd imagine it'd feel so freeing and thrilling! Not to mention the almost tender closeness of holding onto your partner while you ride. Sounds dreamy~ *soft sigh* As for hobbies, I'd love to get into flower arranging. I quite enjoy flowers a lot and do my best to keep the ones I’m gifted as long as I can. 

When it comes to performances, I prefer more group choreography ones! I do enjoy the limelight but it’s also nice to not be the center of attention every once in a while. Not to mention I get to socialize with the other entertainers while we practice so that’s a nice little bonus!

Moon: I don’t normally get flowers like Sun does. I do enjoy irises though. I prefer cars, maybe something vintage. Don’t have many hobbies, but I enjoy reading the most. 

My favorite is simple drinks. Like margaritas. The more simple, the less hassle. 

Eclipse: Tch. I don’t have time to pick favorites. I have work that needs to get done, and thinking about what kind of fucking flower I like or some shit isn’t my top priority. But I guess I like cars or whatever. I don’t have time for hobbies. I’m busy. 

A client that keeps their mouth shut and lets me do my work is preferred. Dante is technically my boss but we’re business partners. I take care of a lot of important shit for him. 

Dante: Interesting questions.

I prefer Sun the most out of my bots. Eclipse is nothing more than an extension of myself for me to use as I see fit. I had him made to allow me some reprieve with the intricacies of the club and my fellow associates. A lot goes on in Eden that deserves my attention and Eclipse allows me to be in two places at once, while also providing judgement when it comes to my ‘employees’.

He does his main job well enough, and the occasional clientele performance helps pay back the debt he owes me for his creation. Though his aggression is an unexpected factor. He’s done well to keep himself in check, but if he slips up I’m more than happy to guide him back on the right path with a heavy hand. 

WAH ANON!!! You’re so sweet, thank you so much for all the kind words!!!!! I’m so happy to hear you enjoy the AU so much!!!!!! 🥺💕💕

Also with the boys, I guess you could say it’s a little bit like one of those shows where people are divided by a curtain and anonymously ask questions and stuff! You interact with them, just not directly if that makes sense!