#my other teeth grow this way ^ and my wisdoms are growing this way >

[bluebellhairpin]

being really suspicious about this one wisdom tooth rn.

[mikhailoisbaby]

-

[imagining-in-the-margins]

Your Specialty (S.R.)

Summary: Spencer sees his significant other comforting a child and it makes him wonder. A/N: Written for my best friend on her birthday. Couple: Spencer Reid/GN!Reader Category: Comfort Content Warning: Minor self-deprecation, implied difficult childhood, crying Word Count: 1k

MASTERLIST

Spencer loves you every day. There is never a doubt or a hesitation. With each glance, he finds something new to add to the ever-growing list of reasons why he is right to love you.

But there are some moments where even he, in his seemingly infinite wisdom, is unable to put into words the way he feels when it comes to you. In those moments, all he can do is silently soak in the unknowing.

It was a quiet moment, all things considered. There was no more bad guys to be caught, no more bloodshed to be had. Still, there were tears, as there usually were when you were around.

It wasn’t your fault. You just have a way about you that makes people feel… loved. Sometimes for the first time.

Spencer peers through his open office door to find you. You are on your knees, eyes locked with the young boy standing in front of you.

His small body shakes with incoherent sobs. He is held steady only by your gentle hands cupping his face. Despite the sight, you are smiling. A calm, subtle curve that holds him up in another way.

From where he is, Spencer can’t hear your words. But he can still feel the relief. He finds himself mirroring you both, with deep inhales fighting against the knot his throat. The air comes out warm and trembling.

In that moment, as he watches you comfort something small, he is a little boy again. He is the one lifting his arms in a silent request to be loved in a simple way.

And he can feel it. He feels your arms as they wrap around the little boy and lift him gently from the ground.

The feeling is almost too much, but he doesn’t look away. He watches and waits patiently for you to let the little boy go.

He waits for you to notice, to quickly come to him before your own trembling hands are noticed by the boy being carried away to what Spencer still hopes will be a happily ever after.

Spencer watches you the entire time. His own mind races, struggling still to find words to explain the feeling in his chest.

He’d almost gotten it when you interrupt the thought with a laugh.

“What is it?” you ask.

Any eloquence vanishes and is replaced with a stammer.

“You’re uh… you’re good at that,” he says. "Comforting kids."

Somehow, it sounds better than it did in his head.

Unbeknownst to the depths of the compliment, you glance over your shoulder to see the boy still watching you.

You recognize the same expression on your lover’s face.

“Kids are easy to love,” you answer.

He accepts your humility. He meets the modesty with his own typical self-deprecation.

“You should’ve seen me as a kid.”

Beneath the words, you hear the uncertainty. That stubborn, relentless fear that there is something rotten to be found in his heart.

You narrow your eyes as you inspect him. His shoulders square under your scrutiny. You look at him, carefully reviewing each wrinkle and freckle. You tilt your head to look at him in another way.

And you find nothing at all rotten.

“I would’ve liked that,” you tell him in earnest.

Emboldened, but still afraid, Spencer dares to take another step forward.

“What do you think you would’ve said?” he says like it’s a joke.

This time, your pause is a couple beats longer.

You look at the man in front of you and try to imagine him with teeth too big for a tiny frame. You imagine unruly curls and thick, crooked glasses perched over innocent eyes.

You look at the man you love and you see it. A small boy staring up at you in his oversized suit. Always trying to be both smaller and bigger than he was meant to be.

“I’d tell him,” you say, unsure of your own words, “that he’s strong and clever, and he shouldn’t have to try so hard to prove it to everyone.”

Spencer sucks in a breath that betrays his aloof demeanor. The words hit him like a swift blow to the stomach. But even with the pain, he hopes you’re not finished.

You’re not.

“I’d tell him that I know he’s trying his hardest, and sometimes things are bigger than us and…”

You bite your tongue to stop tears from welling. You breathe in sharply, reaching up to place both palms against his reddened cheeks. You laugh as they shift towards a goofy grin despite tears.

“I’d tell him that everything’s going to be okay,” you say confidently.

“Oh,” he chuckles; a sad but necessary sound.

"Yeah."

Gentle thumbs wipe each droplet that manages to spill from big golden brown eyes. The same as you had moments before, you catch what you can of his sadness and turn it to comforting warmth across his cheek.

Spencer bites his lip, looking down at your feet before daring to look at you again. Because when he does, he loses his breath and his sense once more.

“I, uh... I think he would’ve liked that,” he confesses.

“I know,” you whisper with a genuine remorse. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”

Spencer accepts the apology but refuses to stay in the past any longer.

“But you’re here now,” he says quickly.

“Yeah, I am,” you laugh in return. “Good luck getting rid of me now.”

But letting you go is the furthest thing from his mind. In fact, he pulls you closer until there is nothing but atoms between you. Strong arms embrace you and his clever words muffle against your hair.

“I wouldn’t even dare to try.”

Together, you settle into the silence. You share your warmth without restraint. Just two bodies swaying in a simple and symbiotic embrace. You enjoy the comfort, the company, the lack of need for words to describe it all.

And once you feel he’s had his fill, you sigh against his shirt.

“You know, I’m going to get through to that little boy eventually.”

Spencer halts his step as he starts to laugh.

“Is that a threat?” he asks.

Without moving from your place against him, you smile.

“Watch out, Dr. Reid,” you hum. “I’ve been told I’m good at this.”

Spencer accepts the warning with a smile.

“Yes," he chuckles. "Yes, you are.”

(Tell me what you thought of this fic here!)

[serpentface]

GOD AND HYENA AT THE DAWN OF THE SECOND WORLD

[A short Cholemdinae folktale in a body of creation stories, explaining why all hyenas have penises and how they got their short(ish) tails]

God summoned all the animals to the First Lake, the only place left untouched by the fire that had ravaged the first world. It was here that they breathed death into the animals and thus made them mortal, and it was here that they separated them into male and female.

God cut the female skin from each animal's penis, and so they made all the animals male. And God took these cut skins and red clay and shaped these into the forms of each animal. They placed their living spirit into each, and breathed life and death into each body of clay. And so God made a female for each animal. They did this tirelessly until almost every animal in creation was mortal and paired.

Hyena, however, was not one of them. He avoided the assembly altogether. He was quite fond of being immortal, you see, and didn't want God getting anywhere near his penis. He liked himself the way he was, thank you very much.

And he had good reason to like himself. He was spotted and striped and big and strong, and had a lovely long tail that he carried high with pride. He considered himself the handsomest of all animals by a long shot. And he had all the strengths that would one day make him the best of all wild hunters- his teeth were sharp and brutal, his jaws could crack bone, and he could run for days on end without tiring.

But alone in the dawning of the second world and without other hyenas for council, he sorely lacked wisdom. In fact, he was an utter fool. Hyena felt very confident that he could simply outrun God.

Hyena set off in the pitch dark, running east towards the great distant mountains from which God would be reborn. He hoped to cross them and hide on the edge of the world before dawn. He ran with all his might all night long, but the sky began to grow light before he even reached the foot of the mountains.

Cursing his misfortune, he turned tail and ran straight west. God rose behind him and could surely see him, but they were still far away. Hyena figured he had a good chance of reaching the sea before God did. He could hide underwater and would just have to figure out what to do from there.

All day Hyena ran, and to his dismay, God came closer and closer. First they were behind him, then overhead, and finally the day's shadows grew long and Hyena found himself running directly towards God. There was no escape.

And God had seen Hyena, and took the form of a human to touch down upon the earth in front of him. When Hyena saw God approaching, he panicked and began to dig a hole in the scorched, dry earth. Hearing footfalls right in front of him, he thrust himself as deep into the ground as he possibly could. His nose broke through to the underworld and his whole body fit in the hole, but his long tail trailed out from behind.

“I can see you, Hyena.” God said. “Are you going to come out now?”

Hyena poked his tail straight up out of the ground.

“I don’t know any Hyena,” Hyena said. “I’m a stalk of maize.”

“Ah! I almost didn’t recognize you, Maize. I suppose the fire is what has left you so brown and bare of your leaves.” God said.

“Yep,” said Hyena. “The fire did it. Quite a shame.”

“That certainly is a shame. And this ground is quite barren too, you won’t do very well here. I think I'll cut you down and plant you somewhere better, that you may spread your seeds and feed my people.”

“Please don’t.” said Hyena.

God leaned down and breathed death into Hyena, so making him mortal. And when Hyena still did not emerge, God sighed, shrugged their shoulders, and cut Hyena's tail right in half.

Hyena remained in his hole, yowling and whimpering, and so God could not separate him into male and female like they did with all the other animals. Still, God went about fashioning another hyena. They shaped the body out of red clay, and placed the cropped tail on its rear. God placed a piece of their living spirit into the second hyena, and breathed life and death into him.

And so the second hyena came into being, with his body shaped like the first in every way. And God returned to the sky and went on their way.

The first hyena remained in his hole long after God had vanished into the sea, humiliated and unaware of his new company. The second, growing bored and impatient, stuck his neck down the hole and dragged the first out by his rump.

The first hyena growled in indignant fury, thinking his day had just gone from bad to worse, but he softened upon seeing his new counterpart. This was a creature like himself: a little short of tail, spotted and striped and big and strong, and almost as handsome as he was. He was instantly enamored. The pair of hyenas trotted off into the bush under the rising light of the newborn moons and stars.

The two spent most of the night figuring out the complicated logistics of mating. It was an awkward affair given their matching anatomy, and required a good deal of balance and even more patience. But they worked out a system well enough by morning, and the second hyena soon fell pregnant.

He was impregnated through his penis and had to give birth through it too, and so would all his children and all his children's children. The hyena today still has this painful lot in life. But he is proud nonetheless, for he is the best of all wild hunters, and he alone still walks in the body God first made him in (albeit with a shorter tail).

NOTES:

The notion that the tail of a hyena is cropped (in spite of being of fairly decent size and not notably shorter than most carnivorans) comes from the presence of the king hyena in the same region. The latter bears noted resemblance to a hyena and generally assumed to be a related (though this is not actually the case). Their most pronounced anatomical difference (other than size and bulk, and the hyena's androgyny) is the king hyena's very long, catlike tail.

The king hyena is often cited as the 'older brother' of the hyena in animal folktales, and Cholemdinae and South Wardi tales (both deriving from recent shared ancestry) describe the hyena as having lost half of his tail (and often being jealous of his big brother for this and other reasons).

---

The reason why God can't just sculpt a vagina into the second clay hyena is not based upon hard logical practicality, but has meaning. A human body with a penis, foreskin, and scrotum is regarded as its most fundamental form, the way the body was first created and a reflection of God. This body in of itself is traditionally regarded as neither male or female but carrying the potential for both. The foreskin is the element of female potential, and it is removed to make a person truly a man.

It would be naturally understood that God, when first creating female animals, would shape this androgynous body out of clay, and would require the female element to be separated from a preexisting animal to make this female counterpart. Once these two bodies came into existence and began to reproduce, females could occur naturally within the womb from the model of their mother.

---

The 'translation' of God's pronouns as 'they' here reflects a unique pronoun used in the source language. This pronoun refers to God, and to people in this society's 'genderless' space. I use this as opposed to the Wardi 'It', because the latter is exclusively used for God and never used to describe humans.

The animals (in spite of being considered genderless for the bulk of this story) are referred to with 'he', as each of the first animals was made male, and became the interactive element of each kind of animal's collective Spirit after their deaths. When animal spirits are invoked in religious practice or these folktales, they are always described as 'he'.

---

It is not directly mentioned in this story, but Hyena's brief time in the underworld (with his nose sticking through) exposed him to the evil spirits who haunt the dead in their travels. The hyena's cackling 'laugh' is partly explained with his boisterous nature, but is also something he learned from hearing the shrieks of underworld spirits, and uses to strike fear into the hearts of his enemies.

His exposure to the underworld is also cited as why hyenas are involved in Cholemdinae funerary rites (being a fairly close analogue to the guide/guardian dog in contemporary Wardi funerals, though exclusively in effigy form). Hyena spent some time dangling between the underworld and the world of the living, and is the most powerful animal to be familiar with the underworld realm. Hyena's spirit would later be tasked by God with guiding the dead through the underworld to help them reach rebirth.

---

This story would be told to an audience already familiar with the creation narrative, and starts late into the story. The creation narrative is as such:

God is the first being. They are referred to as the First Ancestor, though they are sometimes referred to with the title of Od. The creation story does not linger on the creation of the land (it tends to be implied as already present), rather focuses on God's own emergence and usually skips ahead to the creation of life.

God came into existence at the boundary of sea and sky. God is neither male or female, but carries inside themself the potential for both. They are the sun, and watch over the world during their daily travels. They hold the breaths of life and death within themself and are not truly immortal. Rather, they die in the ocean each night, travel through the underworld, and are reborn at the underworld's entrance in the great mountains (the Blackmane range) far to the east. Their nightly journey through the underworld is harrowing; it is the realm of evil spirits that God keeps at bay with its nightly self-sacrifice. When they decided to create life in their loneliness, they wanted it to be free of this burden.

God is a being that is powerful and wise, but they are not omnipotent, nor are they completely infallible. They are benevolent towards their creations, and desired to create a world without the burden of death, but this turned out to be a mistake.

They first created a world they saw as perfect. They shaped animals out of red clay, gave them a piece of their living spirit, and gave them only the breath of life, rendering them immortal.

This first world was a paradise- the plants grew in great abundance without need for rain, and freely gave their gifts to the animals. There was no death, no need of killing, all the days were pleasantly warm. But it was not truly perfect. It became significantly less of a paradise at night, when the world was cold and pitch-dark in God's absence.

Many of the animals grew restless with this way of things, and decided to steal God's fire so that they could be in the deity's presence and comfort (and continue their revelries) without end.

The theft occurred successfully, with three birds snatching the last sparks of solar fire in bundles of grass as God died in the ocean. Hespaean carried the fire in his beak, and it singed his face and back black and he dropped into the sea (becoming flightless and aquatic). Crow carried the fire in his talons and lasted longer, but his whole body was singed and he dropped his fire into the sea. Dragon, the most powerful of all birds, made it all the way to land, but was totally aflame and in tremendous pain by the time he crashed to the earth. The fire began to spread in the grasses and soon grew out of control. Most of the world was consumed overnight. Almost all the land was aflame, the rivers and lakes dried, and the sea diminished to mere pools.

The animals were immortal and could not die, but could feel pain and fear, so this was a distinctly awful state of affairs. Some fled to the First Lake (the great crater hill range and lake to the northeast, called Sons of Creation in the Wardi sphere), the only place that ended up untouched by the fire. Some fled into the remnants of the sea (and were thus transformed). Some found other ways of evading the flames (often explaining unique aspects of each animal- the human hung from the tallest tree he could find, and his hair was burnt off everywhere but his head).

God was reborn again the next morning, and to their great dismay, all of creation was on fire. They went to great work to stop it. They transformed a serpent to create the rains (creating the sky serpent, a lesser but highly venerated deity-spirit of storms and rainbows) and doused the world in a great storm.

When all was said and done, they realized that their perfect, deathless creation was not to be, and summoned all the animals to the First Lake in order to create a second world.

Some animals contributed directly to the creation of the second world. The many-horned Ox broke off three of his horns, and God used them to create the moons. Several animals volunteered to become the stars (forming constellations). With the moon and stars, the world would now have light during God's nightly absence. Dragon (ringleader of the fire thieves) still had some of the fires smouldering in his long tailfeathers, and became the spirit of lightning (thus fires would still come to the world (and would eventually be harnessed by people) but could not destroy the world altogether thanks to the rains).

God also realized this new world could not sustain itself without death. The existence of death would ultimately prevent such a catastrophe from ever happening again, and a cycle of death and birth (akin to God's own) would restore the world from any devastation. They made each animal mortal by breathing death into them, but gave them the means of perpetuating themselves by separating them into male and female. God cut the foreskins from the animals and thus made them male, and then used the severed foreskins along with red clay (used to shape life to begin with) to create female animals of each kind. Each animal was no longer alone and unique, but could propagate indefinitely and fill the world with their peoples. Individuals would die, but their deaths would ensure that the world could cycle away from its worst extremes, and the collective would live on forever.

The hyena is noted as an exception. Hyenas have virtually no sexual dimorphism and their sex is extremely difficult to distinguish (the only visually identifiable difference is the shape of the tip of the female's pseudopenis), and this is not broadly recognized. Hyenas can reproduce like anything else, but they have to mate (rather awkwardly) via insertion of a penis into another hyena's (pseudo)penis, and give birth through this same structure. This is a notable curiosity among animals, and is explained as the hyena having remained in its primordial genderless form.

---

The Cholemdinae people are notably the only society indigenous to this region that practices circumcision in the present day, seen as the means of initiation into manhood via removing the 'female' physical potential from the androgynous youth. This would not have been wholly unique to them, but was lost in other groups in the process of assimilation into Wardi identity. The Wardinae tribe (ancestral to Most of the South Wardi population, whose division from the Cholemdinae defined the two groups) is definitively recorded as having practiced circumcision as well, and in relatively recent history. You can still find some (mostly elderly) men in isolated South Wardi villages who are circumcised, but the practice has lost its religious elements and is dying out. Circumcision in the Imperial Wardi cultural sphere is broadly regarded as a form of mutilation and sometimes described as an outright 'barbaric' practice.

Circumcision (or lack thereof) plays a role in the Cholemdinae culture's additional gender spaces. One space applies to people assigned male at birth and encompasses most deviation from fundamental aspects of the male gender role, when manifested obviously from early childhood. (This encompasses both what would be considered cis male homosexuality and transfeminity, though not all cis gay men or trans women would actually end up in this gender space in practice. It is not 1:1 with any set of LGBT identities). These individuals are left uncircumcised and considered genderless in a similar capacity to God, though take female social roles. They are referred to with the same pronoun and other gendered articles used for God, which I translate here as 'they'.

The other role applies to people assigned female at birth and is significantly more restrictive to enter- it requires successful completion of initiation into manhood on their first attempt, seen as divine confirmation that they are meant to be men (this is a rite where a gazelle is run to death on foot in a potentially multi-day solo persistence hunt). They are circumcised via the removal of the clitoral hood. They are considered to be a subcategory of the male gender space, and take male gender roles, and are referred to as men. They are differentiated from other men by being priests in society, which is an obligation of taking on this role. They are required to be celibate (meaning no PIV sex rather than no sex at all) and to remain unwed.

---

Cholemdinae religion is a living tradition and should not be regarded as a static fossil of older beliefs (or devoid of syncretic elements). It is, however, one of the most intact representatives of the monotheist + animistic traditions of the proto-Wardi groups that settled the central-southern grassland and scrub that were heavily changed (and in many instances fully lost) under Burri occupation, assimilation into Wardi identity, and the development of the Faith of the Seven Faced God. Cholemdinae practices survived with significantly less change due to most of their land never being directly occupied (this is scrub and dry grassland best suited to nomadic pastoralism and hunting+gathering and not colonial extraction of grain) and the group at large never assimilating into Wardi identity (this is not universal on an individual or community level; a small but significant minority of the South Wardi population in the Imperial Wardi sphere has more recent Cholemdinae ancestry than Wardinae).

Some shared factors are a result of syncretism due to cultural exchange (and there are folk sects of the Faith that are heavily syncretic with Cholemdinae practices). The most obvious is the adoption of the word Od for the sun + God. Most of the contemporary Cholemdinae people use the terms 'First Ancestor' and 'Od' for the deity, sometimes using the latter to refer to the sun with more specificity. It is generally acknowledged that the Wardi Od and the First Ancestor ultimately refer to the same being, but many consider the Wardi Od to be a misinterpretation of the same fundamental truth.

Some shared factors are not a result of syncretism and rather are cousins to older proto-Wardi beliefs that are still in the Faith. Most significant here are the concept of a primordial female sea and male sky that predated any beings, an androgynous God (though in this case being Neither male or female, while the Wardi Od is dual-sexed), an ox giving his horns to make the moons, death being brought into the world to kick off its present state, the centrality of the cycle of death and rebirth, and God having sacrificed themself in some capacity to preserve the order of the world.

[silkjade]

MIDNIGHT VICES

alhaitham x reader ⤀ synopsis: a year older, and none the wiser… doesn’t the birthday boy know not to mix his alcohol ? as alhaitham grows incessantly needy, he sneaks you away for a quickie behind the tavern ⤀ cw: fem!reader, established relationship, drunk sex (more of a buzz + everything is consensual), unprotected + rough sex, fingering, creampie, exhibitionism, very sweet — mdni || ꒰ 2.5k wc ꒱ ⤀ notes: it is still feb.11 in my time so happy birthday to the loml ! ♡ slightly selfship coded, prev titled ‘places we won’t be found’

10 minutes before the clock strikes twelve, Alhaitham takes note as you slip away from his side with a quick kiss to his cheek, promising to return in haste. 2 minutes before the clock strikes twelve, you return with a round of shots for the table—Snezhnayan firewater, of course.

“And an extra for the birthday boy,” you tease, sliding the remaining glass towards your ashen-haired boyfriend. 

And thus, at midnight of his birthday, Alhaitham takes two shots of firewater—and in the 10 minutes it takes for the liquor to mix with the wine already in his system, he realizes that his wisdom has yet to catch up with his age. Because despite turning a year older, he feels none the wiser when you sidle up to him so nonchalantly, as if every brush of your bare skin on his, isn’t crackling with electricity that makes his hairs stand on end. As if he doesn’t wish to drag his tongue and teeth down the curvature of your neck and shoulders. As if you were not the direct cause of the lecherous, alcohol-induced thoughts forming in his head or the tightness quickly growing in his pants. 

Beneath the table, he reaches for your hand, intertwining your fingers in his. You smile into the rim of your drink; Alhaitham has always been clingier in private, and even more so with a drink or three in him. Leaning over, you rest your head on his broad shoulder, turning just a smidgen to press a kiss into the mottled flush of his skin, but it only makes the throbbing worse. 

Maybe—no—it was definitely due to the influence of that firewater, but it’s a thrum like no other. He cannot think, he cannot will it away, he cannot ignore it. Frustrated, he squeezes your hand, just a semblance of a warning before guiding you to his crotch, showing you just what you’ve done. I need you, his actions say, coughing to stifle the grunt that escapes when you inadvertently palm him through his pants. 

You blink, eyes wide in revelation. Ah. 

“I think I need some air,” you lie. “Haitham, would you accompany me?”

Though really, it’s Alhaitham who’s dragging you out the back door of the tavern, where you’re immediately herded until your back is pressed flat against the wall, and your lover’s lips find their place firmly against your own, the lingering notes of wine still apparent on his tongue as you follow his lead. He’s bolder than usual, uncaring of who might turn the corner, and hungrier in his kisses, biting, tugging at your lip for an audience with your tongue, entitled in the way he steals the breath from right out of your lungs, as if it were his air to breathe in the first place. Perhaps it’s the alcohol, treating his veins like marionette strings, but you’ve lit a fever in his belly and he’s resolute to soothe the heat fogging in his head. 

You’re no better as your nails graze down his chest, one hand scrambling to undo his pants, while the other slips beneath the opening, working along the hard length of his cock, pumping his shaft, and glossing over the leaking tip until he bucks into your fist, groaning, because a handjob just isn’t enough. 

The grip on your waist tightens—pulling you in, ever closer until your hips are aligned, and you can feel how his standing erection rubs against your belly, wordlessly asking for something more. One of his hands roams further down: smoothing over every curve your body offers, but only settling upon the underside of your thigh, slowly oscillating up and down over your tender flesh. It’s not long before you feel his touch slide higher, up past the edges of your skirt, fingers hooked between the waistband of your panties.

Elegant, romantic… Alhaitham knows you’re well versed in his preference of lingerie, knows that he could quite confidently, recognize each pair by touch alone… and so he notices when something feels different—the pattern alien to the very fingertips that have traced and memorized the details of every piece you own. And though the alcohol has burned through the last remnants of his inhibitions, the pleasant buzz in his veins surges anew, and the lace material shifts as he feeds into his earthly desires—tugging the flimsy cloth down just an inch, then pausing as if to ask permission before tearing the little thing apart.

“Are these new?”

You whine at the halt in his movements, wriggling and grinding your hips so that maybe he’d get the hint to touch you again. “Was supposed to be a surprise,” you breathe.

And though he has yet to lay eyes on your salaciously thoughtful gesture, Alhaitham hums low in his throat, delighted. “Then I can’t wait to unwrap you later,” he whispers into your ear, trailing wet kisses down the sides of your neck, and leaving you to shiver in his wake. 

Alhaitham is not a frugal man by any means, but he’d never let a gift like that go to waste… so he’ll try to be careful, he tells himself, for he dares not make it a promise. Between the alcohol swirling in his head, and your familiarly pavlovian scent, there lies a nebulous cloud of lust and want, blowing air directly into the heart of the fire, urgently demanding him to quell the almost painful erection that threatens his good sense. 

Still though, he tries—willing himself to untangle his fingers from the gossamer threads, opting to migrate just a bit further south, comfortably cupping his large hand around your dripping cunt, thumb rubbing firm circles onto your clit, from across the lace. Hips jerking, your arms tighten around his neck, fingers lacing a crown in his head as you hug him close, crushing your lips back against his in the hopes it’d muffle the whimpers begot from the sudden spike in stimulation. 

At your wordless insistence, two deft fingers swiftly push your panties to the side, running back and forth, feeling the wetness between your folds, as more kisses line across the edge of your jaw, down the column of your throat, and in the spot at the juncture of your neck, where he knows you’re most sensitive. 

“I want you,” he mutters, jagged breaths painting an irregular warmth onto your skin, like droplets of cold fire that melt into your flesh, teasing arousal to twist and churn in your belly until it breaks through the barrier, leaking out of your cunt and coating his fingers in your slick.

“You have me,” you promise. 

Without warning, his digits slip through the threshold, immediately beginning his campaign within. You buck at the sudden, but welcome intrusion—tipping your head back against the wall, fists clenched and eyes squeezed shut, as a quiet, stuttered gasp sounds from your lips. 

Alhaitham fucks you harsh and fast—sloppy, though that’s not to say it isn’t without his usual precision. The way the pads of his fingers rub upon all your hidden ridges, and how his knuckles angle to brush against all the right spots—every twist and curl is deliberate, every movement a tribute in working you wet and open, until you’re lightheaded, and rocking into his slender digits, desperately in need of something more. 

Adjusting his position, he digs the heel of his palm against your clit, mercilessly bullying the nub until the rough sensation draws a low moan as you clench around him. Liquid fire continues to run its course, and then again and again through your veins, and you’re unable to fathom how your legs could still possibly be standing. By your trembling alone, you’re sure you’ve already melted to putty in his hands. 

“H-haitham—please…” You all but moan as he crooks his fingers again, once more prodding where you need him most, before drawing out, ignoring the way your cunt clenches and sobs, begging him not to go.

But he too, is eager to remedy the loss, and you’re quick to feel it by way of the thick tip—far wider than a mere couple fingers—lined against your entrance. Guided by the hand still on your thigh, you wrap a leg around his waist, locking him in close, as he breaches beyond your sticky folds, plunging his cockhead home into your silken insides.

Alhaitham swallows your moans for you, slotting his mouth onto yours, deepening his kiss just as he deepens his cock, easily slipping to the hilt in spite of the stretch. He starts moving immediately, long thrusts, powerful and relentless as he slams in and out of your hole, desperate and haphazard and messy. There’s little time to waste in this indeterminate window of privacy, but he cannot help but savor the way your cunt rejoices with every drag of his cock, grasping onto every inch, every vein. You’re so tight when you squeeze around him like that, trying to milk him for all he’s worth, and at this point, he’s quite sure that no amount of alcohol could intoxicate him the way you do. 

His tongue in your mouth, his cock in your cunt—all your senses seem to be overridden by alhaitham. The subtle spice of harra fruit in his cologne, the sweet notes of wine still lingering on his tongue. The wisps of hot breath as he pants and groans quietly beside your ear, and the bruising grip on your ass and thighs, digging into your skin, guiding your other leg to, too, wrap itself around his waist so that you’d fall ever deeper onto his length. 

Haitham! Haitham! Haitham! Your mind churns up a cacophony in your head, screaming in lieu of what your voice dares not utter so close within the vicinity of the public eye. But holding it all in does nothing, except heighten your sensitivity, both that of tangible and intangible nature. 

You feel as if you’re about to burst at the seams, because how lucky you are that even in his inebriation, your lover still fucks you so well, like a beast in rut—careless, merciless, but you’re so, so full. Your lashes flutter with tears, opening the gates for a litany of soft mewls and whimpers to escape out of the depths of your throat, unwilling to be silenced.

“Any louder and someone might notice,” he whispers, nipping at the skin beneath your ear as he teases you with a playful chide. “It’s a packed house tonight.”

Immediately, you slap a hand over your mouth, hoping it’d be enough to muffle your moans because there’s no way you can suppress anything any longer—not when Alhaitham can feel your walls convulse at the threat of discovery, and especially not as he further feeds into the not-so-distant fantasy. 

“Unless that’s what you want,” he rasps, shifting you on his hips. “For someone to stumble out the tavern, find you fucked out. Cockdrunk. Exposed…”

With each word, he makes sure to follow with a soul rattling thrust, letting gravity do its work as he prods even deeper, sinking you further into a delirious haze. But you shake your head no as you bury your face in the juncture of his neck, sobs racking through your body, more slick gushing from your hole. Your hand, previously clamped over your mouth, now joins the other as it digs into the flesh of his shoulders, holding on for dear life.

“Only want you to,” you hiccup, pausing to break, singing gasps as his languid strokes hit a particularly delicate spot. “Only wan’ y-you to see me like this.” 

And the wires in his head short-circuit in the drunken pool of his thoughts, clearly pleased at the fact that you share his sentiments. Because he should be the only one to ever lay eyes on this lascivious sight. Cheeks flushed, imprints dappled about your skin, cunt split open, stuffed full of his cock, from the fat tip all the way down to its even girthier base… He could care less who happens upon the grand scribe engaging in such perversions; the worst case scenario is but public discourse. You however, well…he isn’t one keen to share in his gifts.

“Then cum for me,” he coos, and he shifts his hand between your bodies, searching for, and stroking your clit as he finds it—until you’re writhing in his arms, between he and the wall, thighs quivering around his waist as you cum and clench and release around his cock. 

Your chest heaves, hugging your lover close, chin digging into the dimple that sits on the back of his shoulder. His thrusts grow uneven, stuttering as he too, fractures into his own high. Ribbons of his cum run hot as he fills your insides, cock pulsing with each spurt that paints your walls with his seed. The two of you stay like this for a minute, hearts syncing between the breathless wake, panting in the warm afterglow of two bodies strained, breaths mingling into something sweet. 

“We should—” He starts, breathless.

“Before someone sees us,” you interrupt, nodding at what you can only assume would be the most logical end to this tryst. 

But Alhaitham only lets out an airy chuckle, pressing a chaste kiss to the crest of your cheekbone, before resting his forehead against yours. “I was going to say we should stay like this a little longer.” 

“Oh? Did one birthday suddenly turn you into a romantic?” you tease, yelping as the hand still gripping your ass pinches at the soft flesh. 

“I’m always romantic.”

“That’s debatable,” you quip back, “But…since it’s your birthday, I suppose I must agree that you are the most romantic man in all of sumeru.”

“Not all of Teyvat?” Alhaitham smirks, and you can’t help but melt, giggling as you kiss at the crooked corner of his lips. His hold loosens as he begins to untangle your limbs, snapping those new lace panties back into place, and setting you down gently, though never fully letting go until he’s sure you can stand, albeit on wobbling fawn legs. 

It takes little time for him to redo the buckle of his pants, and even less for him to notice the nefariously lecherous state he’s left you in: your hair’s a mess, clothes wrinkled, lipstick smeared upon kiss-swollen lips. And who could ignore the drying stains of your cum and slick staining your thighs, or the white trails of his cum leaking out from your folds, slowly making its way down the insides of your legs.

“You should head back in first. I…need to clean up a bit, clearly,” you mumble, but Alhaitham only scoffs. As if he’d ever allow anyone in that tavern to see you in such a state. His fingers reach for the sharp end of your chin, tilting your face up towards him, and drawing your doe-eyed gaze back into his orbit. If he remembers your words correctly…

“I want to be the only one to see you like this,” he murmurs. “So let’s go home. And if I recall, you still owe me a surprise, no?”

notes2: wrote this in one day so it’s not my best T^T and it's far from optimal posting time, but i wanted to post while it's still alhaitham's birthday in my timezone :'D anyways, thank you for reading, and as always, reblogs + feedback are greatly appreciated ! ♡

© silkjade — do not steal, plagiarize, translate or repost any content onto any other platform

[azzibuckets]

loopy in love part 2 [pazzi]

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

a/n: sorry for the long wait! i wasn’t gonna write a second part but @makethemhoesmad forced me to.. and let’s pretend that azzi miraculously healed before the end lmfao

word count: 1.4k

part 1 | masterlist

Azzi needed to forget.

She needed to forget how warm Paige’s hands were when they’d traced her hair. She needed to forget the feel of Paige’s lips against her cheek, grazing across her skin and coming so close yet so far from where she needed it the most. She needed to forget the way Paige held her through the night, the two of them pressed so close together she didn’t know where she ended or began.

And she really needed to forget how uninhibited she’d been with the nitrous oxide running through her veins, revealing the secret she’d spent years perfecting to keep away, locked in the corners of her mind. Paige had been gone when Azzi had woken up this morning, with no text or note. Azzi been relieved at first, not knowing what to say or do so soon after the fact. But she also couldn’t ignore the anxiety swirling in her stomach, worried that she’d ruin everything they’d built over the past few years.

So that’s how she found herself with a bottle of tequila in her hand, sprawled out on the couch at 1 PM. Her apartment was utterly dark, the curtains drawn to block out the sunlight. She knew this wasn’t a healthy way to cope, but frankly, she didn’t care. She wanted, needed to numb the ache in her heart at Paige’s absence, at how she’s embarrased herself last night and probably destroyed their friendship ever.

But the doorbell rang, and when the door revealed Paige, Azzi was stuck, unsure of what to say or do. Paige’s face was void of emotion, her expression tightly controlled in the same way it was when she talked to reporters, the press, strangers, anyone that wasn’t someone she was close to. Azzi’s heart thudded.

Paige stepped in, not waiting for an invitation. She set a drink on the counter, the cup wet with condensation. “I brought you a smoothie.”

Azzi’s hands gingerly rubbed her jaw that was still swollen. “Thanks.”

Paige nodded in acknowledgment. She didn’t say anything, but her foot nervously toeing the ground told Azzi everything she needed to know.

“This is awkward,” Azzi blurted out.

Paige winced. “Yeah, it is,” she admitted. She went to go sit on the couch, but she paused when she saw the bottle of alcohol sitting on the coffee table. She picked it up, staring at it in disbelief as Azzi looked away in embarrasment. “Is this yours?”

“No, that’s…” Azzi’s mind furiously searched for someone to blame it on. “Caroline’s. She left it here the other day.”

Paige’s eyes hardened. “I can see droplets on the table.”

Azzi swallowed.

“Are you kidding me, Azzi?” Paige threw the bottle on the couch and approached her with blazing eyes, her jaw tense. “Did you happen to forget that you had surgery yesterday?”

Azzi sighed, having had enough of the conversation. She went to the kitchen, rummaging around the cabinets for something soft to eat. “It was just my wisdom teeth,” she muttered. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Alcohol thins your blood, Azzi, you know that.”

“I really don’t need you to babysit me right now.”

“Then stop acting like a kid.” Paige marched past Azzi to the sink, bottle in hand. Before Azzi could stop her, she unscrewed the cap and poured the entire bottle of tequila down the drain.

“Paige, what the fuck?” When Paige only smirked at her, Azzi felt herself grow hot with anger at her audacity. “That cost fucking money.”

“Please,” Paige scoffed. “This shit is cheap as hell. And we both know money isn’t an issue with you.”

Azzi was done with this conversation. She was done with the way that Paige was able to get under her skin so easily and make her feel things that no one should feel for their best friend. Knowing she was only proving Paige right but still not caring enough, she headed to her room and slammed the door, feeling like she was 13 years old again.

But, of course, Paige followed her, opening the door and slipping inside. “Wanna tell me why you’re trying to get drunk at 1 in the afternoon?”

“Wanna tell me why you’re not at lift?”

“I’m not at lift because I wanted to make sure you were healing okay.” Paige’s voice rose an octave, but she forced herself to calm down once she saw the change in Azzi’s body language, how she was shifting away. “What happened, Az?” Her voice was soft now, and she took a seat next to the younger girl, letting their elbows knock together.

Azzi stared straight ahead, focusing on the loose thread in the carpet instead of daring to glance over at Paige. She could feel the alcohol buzzing loosely through her body, not enough to be intoxicated but enough to give her that little bit of boldness she wouldn’t have otherwise. “You don’t think I notice that you don’t tell me anything anymore?” The words cut like a knife in Paige’s chest, and she bit down hard on the inside of her cheek, trying to let Azzi continue before saying anything. Azzi brought her knees up, folding her arms around them, making herself as small as possible like she was trying to protect herself. “Lately we’ve been fighting all the time. I-,” she paused, inhaling deeply, “I wasn’t even gonna ask you to take me to the dentist. I was scared you’d say no.”

Azzi closed her eyes briefly. “You know how devastating it is? To realize that I’m in love with my best friend, that I have been for the last four years. But then you started to pull away, and now it feels like I’m losing you, and I don’t know what to do.” She finally worked up the courage to look at Paige, but as soon as she did, she regretted it almost instantly. Paige’s eyes were rimmed red, wet with tears, her bottom lip trembling.

“It was two months ago.” Paige recalled the moment she’d started distancing herself from Azzi. “The guy at the bar - he was flirting with you. Remember how I was in a terrible mood that night?”

Azzi chuckled. It had become an inside joke with the team, how Paige had been the one who came up with the idea to go to Ted’s to celebrate that win, but had ended up sulking in the corner of the room the entire night because she “didn’t feel well.” “I remember.”

“You were flirting with that girl from Virginia Tech.” Paige was the one to look away now. “I remember feeling so irrationally angry. And I couldn’t even be mad, because you looked gorgeous that night. With your black top that I love.” Paige laughed dryly, but there was no humor in her voice. “And I remember thinking, damn, if I were that girl and seen you on the court playing like that, I would’ve flirted with you too. And I think that’s when I realized. That to me, you were more than just my best friend.”

Paige’s words hung in the air between the two of them, the tension almost tangible. Azzi burrowed her chin into her knees. “We fought that night,” she said, her voice a whisper.

“We did.” Paige anxiously rubbed her elbow. “And we got over it, but…”

“We never really did,” Azzi finished.

Both girls were silent.

Paige turned to face Azzi, giving a small smile. “But yesterday, huh?” She waggled her eyebrows obnoxiously. Azzi went to push Paige, but Paige grabbed her wrists instead, pulling her into her body until they were only a couple inches apart. Azzi had never been this close to the blonde before unless you counted her dreams, and it was dizzying, the smell of Paige’s perfume combined with the warming heat of her body.

When Paige’s fingers trailed up her palms, lightly tracing each groove before grazing the skin on her arm, Azzi sucked in a breath. Paige had touched her before. They cuddled almost every night for fuck’s sake. But it was different now, with electricity charging the air between them.

“Do you want this?” As soon as the word yes left Azzi’s mouth, she was pulled onto Paige’s lap, her legs straddling the blonde’s hips. Before she knew it, Paige’s mouth was on hers, soft and gentle, and Azzi realized then that she was fucked. In a split second, she knew that there was no way she’d be able to live without getting to taste Paige’s lips over and over again for the rest of her life, without the feeling of Paige’s teeth nibbling at her bottom lip and Paige sighing into her mouth. It was electrifying and it was thrilling and it was perfect, the way Paige’s lips molded against hers.

Paige suddenly pulled away, wiping at her mouth with a grimace. “I think I taste blood.”

Azzi ran her tongue over her bottom lip. “Way to ruin the mood.”

Paige laughed, then pulled Azzi down so that they were lying on the bed, facing each other. “I’m sorry for pulling away. I was just trying to protect myself from falling too hard for you.” Paige’s thumb went to stroke Azzi’s cheek. “But I don’t think it worked anyways.”

Azzi’s breath caught, and she had to bite her lip to prevent herself from smiling too hard. “I don’t blame you. I’m pretty easy to fall in love with.” She expected a quip back, but Paige only stared at her with intensity.

“We’re still best friends, right?” Paige’s voice was small and unsure.

“I’ll die before we stop being best friends,” Azzi assured, pressing her forehead against Paige’s.

[starstruckmiraclekitty]

What's Your Favorite Color?

Simon Riley x Reader

Synopsis: After mutual feelings were discovered, you are invited back to Simon's room for some tea.

This is kind of a part 2 to Words of Wisdom, but it can be read on it's own!!

Warnings: SMUT!!! Pure smut, p in v sex, oral (m and f receiving), fingering, creampie. MDNI!!!!!!!!!

A/N: I have some requests I am working on, but as always feel free to send some my way! Thanks for all the support guys! :)

"What’s your favorite color?” You asked as you moved to sit cross-legged on Simon’s bed, taking a sip from the tea he had just made for the two of you.

“I just kissed you, and invited you to my room to drink tea, and that’s the first thing you ask me?” Simon's brows raised slightly, and a smirk started to form on his face.

“What should I be asking you? What’s your shoe size?” You joked, swatting him on the arm playfully.

“Sometimes I do wonder what goes on in that head of yours.” He moved just in time to dodge the second swat from you.

“Right now, I’m just thinking that I’d like to kiss you again.” You admitted meekly, tucking a loose hair behind your ear. 

“What about the tea?” He replied, his smirk growing.

“Screw the tea.” You set yours and his tea on his night stand, and threw yourself into him, placing your lips on his.

“I take my tea very seriously, love.” He deadpanned, pulling away to nip at your chin.

Rolling your eyes, you pulled him down so he was laying over the top of you on his bed. Leaning up to kiss him again, you threaded your fingers through his hair, and pushed down lightly to pull his face closer to yours. Simon groaned at the action, and his hands wandered to lay on your waist giving it a firm squeeze. He let his tongue swipe your bottom lip, and you opened your mouth to allow him access. His tongue slid over yours, massaging the muscle before exploring the rest of your mouth. 

You pulled on his hair, pulling Simon away so you could place a kiss on his Adam's apple. You traced your lips along the side of his neck, nipping at the skin lightly before smoothing your tongue over the skin. You looked at the small bits of purple that were starting to form on his neck and grinned. 

“You’re lucky I can cover these up.” He said looking down at you. The smirk on his face had vanished, and was replaced with something darker.

“Lucky am I? Why’s that? Maybe I wanted people to see those marks.” You chided, leaning back up to kiss him.

“You want marks to show off? I can give you that.” Simon dipped his head down and nipped harshly at your exposed collarbone, licking tantalizingly slow across the broken blood vessels. You moaned at the contact as you returned your hands to his hair and gave it a firm tug.

“Y/N, love. Look at me.” Simon put his finger under your chin to lift your gaze to him. “I don’t want you to feel pressured for this. I need to know this is what you want.”

“Simon, I already told you I have wanted you for years. I think we’ve both waited long enough for this.” You breathed, looking deeply into his dark eyes.

This was all the confirmation he needed, and he met your lips with a new ferocity. The kiss was a clash of teeth and tongue as the two of you tried to pull one another impossibly close.

He returned his lips back to your collarbone, leaving softer bites as he trailed down your shoulder. He lifted you up slightly so that he could remove your shirt. Moving his hands to cup at your breasts through your bra, he kissed the divet between them before shoving his head in between them, licking up and down at the skin there. He reached behind your back and unclasped your bra, freeing your breasts. 

“God, you are so fucking beautiful.” He murmured, throwing your bra to a corner of his room. He dove back in, latching his mouth back onto your hard nipple, swirling his tongue around the bud, while massaging the other breast. You moaned loudly, and arched your back to push yourself closer to him.  He moved to the other breast, continuing the same mouth movements as he had on the other.

You felt yourself growing impossibly wet, and started to whine softly as he moved his mouth slowly down your body. He practically ripped your pants off, and wasted no time in removing your panties either. Looking up at you, the smirk from earlier had returned, before he dove in between your legs. Light kisses were placed on the insides of your thighs, and he moved his face to line up with your heat. He blew air on your cunt, and you couldn’t help the whine that emitted from your lips.

“Simon, please.” you cried out, throwing your head back onto the pillows.

“Please, what? Use your words.” He teased, continuing to blow air on your most sensitive region.

“God please, please put your mouth on me.” You begged, moving your hands back to his hair and tugging harshly.

“Good girl.” He immediately latched his mouth on your clit, and sucked. You moaned his name loudly, and tugged harder on his hair earning a growl from him. He stretched his tongue out, and flicked it back and forth on your bud at a brutal pace. Sensing you were enjoying yourself, he moved his tongue down further, and lapped as much of your juices as he could. 

“God you taste fucking amazing.” He mumbled as he stuck his tongue in your entrance.

To say you were a mess was an understatement. He was tongue fucking you to oblivion, and all you could do was grind your wet pussy against his face. Simon, clearly enjoying your movements, decided to add to your pleasure by adding one of his fingers into your hole, while moving his mouth back to your clit. 

His finger went at a deliciously slow pace, his fingering, mixed with the ministrations of his tongue, had you seeing stars. The sounds that were coming from his mouth were obscene, and you were clearly more wet than you had thought as each time his finger moved in and out of your pussy, the quelching was all that could be heard. 

“Be a good girl and cum in my mouth, yeah?” He asked, moving his mouth to lick up and down the entirety of your heat.You nearly came right there at his words, and moved to grind your pussy even harder against his face. He stuck his tongue back out to flick against your bud as fast as he could, and added a second finger. You felt the coil in your belly snap, your thighs squeezing around his head and you silently screamed, as your first orgasm ripped through you. 

He laid between your legs for a few moments after your high, licking up all you had to offer him. As he pulled away he wiped your mess off his face, a smile growing on his lips. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that to you.”

It took a moment for you to catch your breath, and when you did, you pushed Simon down so he was lying on his back. Climbing over him, you got to work undressing him. Once his shirt was off, you looked at his chiseled abs, admiring his body. Scars had littered his skin, and you bent down to run your tongue on each one you could find. You could hear his breath hitch as you got closer to the waistband of his bands, and in one solid stroke, they were off.

Seeing the outline of his cock in his boxers, you grew excited. He was bigger than you had expected, which shouldn’t have been surprising to you. You turned your eyes to him with a sultry look, as you slowly peeled off his boxers freeing his cock.

“God you’re so gorgeous Simon.” You cooed, as you dipped your head down to place a kiss on his shaft. Closing your eyes, you grabbed him in your hand and moved to lower your mouth on him, tongue swirling at the precum on his tip.

“Fucking shit.” He growled, his hands coming to tangle in your hair.

You smiled around his cock, and started to bob your head up and down, while running your tongue alongside his shaft. You could fit the majority of him in your mouth, gagging slightly when his tip hit the back of your throat. You continued to deep throat him best you could, while you moved your hands to cup his balls and massage slowly. 

“Oh my go-god. Y/N.” He moaned, as he pushed your head down slightly for you to take more of him in your mouth.

Growing rather confident at how much of a mess you were making of him, you quickened your face, bobbing your head up and down, and allowing the tip of his cock to hit the back of your throat each time.You moved your hand to his shaft to cover what you couldnt with your mouth and continued to run your tongue along his shaft with each up and down motion of your mouth.

Simon’s breathing started to quicken, and you could tell he was close. “I’m gonna c-cum.” He groaned, before his dick pulsed in your mouth, painting the back of your throat with ropes of cum.

Pulling yourself away from his cock, you made eye contact with him as you swallowed, and licked your lips. You gave him a devious smile, which in reply he grabbed your waist and threw you back down underneath him.

“You are a fucking minx, do you know that?” 

“Only for you, sir.”

He laughed at that, before bending down to kiss you again. Resting his forehead against yours he kissed your cheek softly as he felt in between you to line himself up with your entrance.

“Let me know if you want to stop.” He looked at you with a serious expression, and you nodded moving up to place your lips on his again.

He pushed his hips forward, and slowly entered you. The two of you moaned loudly, and Simon rested his forehead against yours once more. The stretch was unbearable at first, the burning almost too much for you, as it felt like he was splitting you open.

“Oh my god.” You cried out, your breathing became fast. As the initial pain subsided, you looked to Simon and nodded, giving him the okay to move.

He pushed all the way in, before pulling back out completley. You looked at him and were about to make a comment before he smirked, and thrusted back into you fully, filling you completely. You gasped and your arms flew around his back, nails digging into his shoulder blades.

He started at a slow pace, and looked down in between the two of you to see your pussy swallowing his length whole. He grew addicted to the sight and slowly started to pick up the pace, never taking his eyes away, until he heard a squeak come from you.

Wanting a deeper angle, he lifted your legs, and pushed them as far as he could toward you. Simon nearly came at the sight of the bulge that was now evident in your stomach from him.

His pace quickened, and all that could be heard was the slap of skin against skin, and the wetness of your pussy. 

His pace was brutal. The sounds of your moans filled the room, and you could hardly catch your breath. It seemed there was no end to Simon's stamina as he relentlessly pounded into you.

“S-Simon, let me ride y-you please.” You begged, placing your hands against his chest. When he stopped his movements, you moved to flip the two of you around, and sank down on his cock. 

“Fuck, I could die in this moment and be the happiest I’ve ever been” He groaned, throwing his head back on the pillows.

Smiling to yourself, you began to move your hips slowly, teasing him. He reached up to grab one of your nipples and pinched it hard. You squealed at the motion and started to bounce up and down on his cock. Trying to get a better angle, you leaned back slightly and laid your hands on his thighs behind you. Simon moved his hand to your heat, and he used the pad of his thumb to circle your clit. You moaned loudly, and your hand flew to one of your breasts to play with the flesh there.

The sight was glorious for Simon, watching you ride him, while your tits bounced, he was so close to his second orgasm. He leaned up and pulled you close to him, shoving his face into your tits while running his hands alongside your back.

“Fuck baby, I’m almost there cum with me.” He begged, thrusting his hips up to meet yours. 

You cried out as his cock hit just the right angle, and your second orgasm of the night hit you. His grip on your back tightened, as your pussy squeezed him just hard enough to trigger his own high. He groaned loudly as his cock pulsed inside you, painting the inside of your walls with his cum.

The two of you sat like that for a while, breathless and staring into each other's eyes. A small smile formed on his face as he leaned forward to place his lips on yours. “Hate that I could’ve had you for years now. I was a fool to not say anything sooner.” He admitted, kissing your nose.

“Makes two of us, but we are here now.” You moved your hand to stroke his cheek softly.

“That we are. Let me go get something to clean us up, yeah?” He stood, placing you back on the bed as he went to go get a cloth to clean you.

Later that night after another round of tea, you felt yourself growing tired. You moved to go grab your shirt, to which Simon batted your hand away. “None of that, you’re staying here tonight.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to overstep.” You said sheepishly. You were worried that Simon may have not wanted you to spend the night. This was so new for the both of you, and you were worried about doing something to push Simon away.

“Think we are past that, love. You’re mine now. Now get back in that bed, and let’s get some sleep, yeah?”

As you laid in bed with you being held close to Simon, he was stroking your hair softly. You could feel yourself drifting off to sleep before you heard him mutter, “Green”

“Sorry?”

“My favorite color, it’s green.”

You bit back a smile before placing a light kiss on the hand that was wrapped around you.

The two of you had gotten the best sleep that night that either of you had gotten in years.

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

A/N: Second time writing smut so still trying to figure out my writing. Hopefully you guys enjoyed this!!! :)

[steam-beasts]

This is not my body - short story

- Thomas -

Thomas never asked for this. He never wanted this. The day he got infected by that damn coal, he just wanted it to be a normal illness

Dear Lady above, why did it have to be like this??

As he rested in the Ffarqhuarr sheds, in his humanoid form, he curled up tighter and whimpered. He didn't blame the controller for this, he couldn't ever have known. He didn't blame Lady for this. He didn't really blame anyone for this. But he sometimes just hated it in secret. As he dug his nails into his biceps, still to this day, it felt unfamiliar.

No matter what, he was still a locomotive. A sentient machine, way down inside. But lingering, way down inside, this didn't feel like his body.

- Edward -

Edward was fine with this body.

He didn't mind it, really. When he first got it, he was admittedly quite stressed out about it. The itchy fur, the heavy cumbersome limbs. It was a nightmare. He had seen a lot of things through the years; engines being sent for scrap heap, intense, almost fatal crashes, and having to watch as humans he knew grow old and weak, and he would always outlive them.

It was mostly quite sad. But Edward learned to get over it. He had been humbled through his years, gaining wisdom and passing it down to the younger engines. He was always calm about it, calm and collected.

But the infection did something to him. Not just mentally, but physically.

Instead of sky blue wheels that rolled along the rails, he had thundering, monsterous paws. Claws that can tear through flesh with utter ease, and sharp teeth that can sink into prey. He, like the others, couldn't control himself.

He hurt people. Killed people. Ate people. Was he calm and collected after that? No. Admittedly, the fact he did and can do such things, the bloodlust, it made him a little bit looney. Edward found himself more pulled towards the horror genres. An effect of being a blood-hungry beast, the old engine had to guess. Edward was a machine deep inside. A product of Lady and mankind. Even with these new feelings, that's what he'd always be, no matter how much this damned curse warped his body.

Did he hate it? No.

...he just didn't like it.

- James -

James stared in the small window. He admired himself, with horror, fascination and a bit of sadness. He looked splendid! As splendid as ever! His fur was fluffy and perfect, his claws were lovely, perfectly sharpened and red. He was splendid...he HAD to be. Right?

It took a lot of work to get here: he had to get painfully sick and puke his boiler pipes out nearly every night, then came the horrid, agonising sensation of his chassis peeling off. Beautiful, beautiful red blood smothered the place around him. Yes, he was screaming to the high heavens, screaming his breath away as the rails were painted in many shades of red. But it was of happiness, totally happiness. He was even more amazing than ever.

At first, he absolutely hated it, when he came to his senses after a while, he would rip out the grey fur that covered most his body. He'd whine, he'd hurt himself, he'd cry and sob. He felt like a giant, ugly rat, parading as a steam engine. As he sat there, staring into the window, his eye shadow was running. He didn't even notice he was silently crying. He was splendid. He was a splendid engine.

But deep down inside, he knew he was a freak. He grew more obsessed with his looks, in order to not be seen as a freak, James would pamper himself, make himself as splendid as possible.

James wanted to love it. But way down inside...he hated it.

[milimeters-morales]

i like think of the other aspects of having powers/side effects like spidey (specifically a metabolism as fast as theirs) because it’s just so fun. you can go the spider-first route, where you consider what an irl spider does before you try to apply it to a human and work it into the metabolism, or you can go the power-first route, where you consider what such an enhanced metabolism implies about the rest of spidey’s body and then work it into a spider’s irl behaviors to try and tie that together. you can end up with “irl spiders can last for weeks without food so spidey will still experience all the side effects of not eating for a long time but delayed a week or two later than a normal human” or you can end up with “spidey needs to eat almost constantly but their diet is partially blended foods because the constant eating would make them sick, also irl spiders don’t eat food whole” stuff like that is my bread and butter.

sometimes i try to think of how the smaller stuff is changed too like how fast does spidey’s hair grow now? i know accelerated aging isn’t a power but if a height change is a side effect of the bite, then if one didn’t have their wisdom teeth growing in before the bite, does that mean the teeth will grow in quicker (more pain) and need to be removed way earlier than expected? what about fingernail growth? the heart’s obviously stronger, but does that mean it’s also got to have more of an electrical output, and would also need way more of an input from a defibrillator if it stops??? what if it stops while out as a civilian, and the paramedics don’t know if they should go higher and risk killing an (what they think is) average human???

There’s just so many ways to explore side effects, like maybe spidey needs to drink a lot of coffee to feel any side effect bc of a fast metabolism, but is that the only change, or is the side effect (once there’s enough caffeine) always going to be them being extremely disorientated and sometimes shooting webs in awkward/useless spots???? just so much to consider ^3^

[trash-druid]

A Healer's Touch

Fandom: Dragon Age Pairing: Lavellan/Solas Rating: T (but there's an explicit version if folks want that. dm me and I'll share it. I ain't showing my whole ass AO3 account to the world.) AN: This was inspired by a tweet made by @brucoenthusiast. This idea ate at my brain like a parasite so I had to get it out. Note on Elven: I used the DA wiki for my source of translation as well as some other sources that I will list below. Sorry if I messed up.]

The cool winter air snapped at her uncovered ankles as she slipped through the double doors of the Chantry as quietly as she could. Lavellan had grown up in the frigid north of the Free Marshes. She knew the cold well. This did not make her hate it any less.

After hours of strategy planning discussing recruitment and movement of goods around the Hinterlands, Lavellan could no longer ignore the ache in her palm.

The mark had laid mostly dormant since the forming of the Inquisition but she found that as the nights grew colder and her nerves stretched thin, the thrumming pain began to build.

Stepping outside, Haven was totally silent. She wasn’t exactly sure what time it was thanks to the clouds in the sky, but it was late enough for her to know that she’d be unhappy in the morning. Voices echoed quietly behind her. Looking left and right, she made a snap decision. She could not afford getting caught up in more discussion with her advisors, and did not want to concern them with her current dilemma; concealing it all evening had been enough of a pain.

Hurrying left, down the path towards the tavern, a thought occurred. She knew one person who might be able to ease her suffering.

The next thing she knew, she was standing at his door. Lavellan bit her lip and rolled it between her teeth. It was late. Very late. And he was probably just as exhausted as she was. She had, after all, dragged him, Varric and Cassandra around the Hinterlands all day, sealing what rifts they could find and managing one crisis after another.

She raised her fist to the wood but could not bring herself to lower it. Her cheeks grew warm. It had only been a few weeks but she could already tell something was different about Solas. There was a wisdom that she found comforting–he reminded her of home in some ways and then of something completely foreign in others. He was a mystery and her wandering mind could not resist the call of the unknown.

Back at her clan, Lavellan had earned the loving nickname of somniari av'ahn or the questioning dreamer. Even at a young age, she was driven to learn more, dig deeper, seek answers. However, this often led to irresponsible bouts of daydreaming. As her Keeper’s first, she knew that one day the safety of the clan would fall into her hands. It seemed there was always a duty waiting for her. So while she often scolded herself for foolish fantasies of exploring the wilds and the far reaches of the fade, she was kind enough to allow them a place in her heart.

Her clan often grew tired of the constant questions. If the answers to one question were not satisfactory enough, she would find 15 more questions to follow. She had learned, in her 27 years of life, how to restrain her wondering thoughts for the sake of others.

But with Solas, she felt no resistance. He seemed to relish in her quandaries, always happy to expound upon whatever bits of lore she was curious about or hypothesis the inner workings of magic that ruled the fade.

She was growing to like him quite a bit.

She had to remind herself that, at that moment, her focus should be solely on finding allies. On bolstering the Inquisition’s forces so that they may face whatever evils await them.

But for somniari av'ahn, there was always a want she could not ignore.

She signed, a puff of steam filling the air before her as she closed her eyes tight. It’s late, she thought, I wouldn’t-

Before she could finish her thought, the door in front of her, only inches away, swung open. Opening her eyes at the sudden creak of wood, she realized she was staring directly at a bare chest.

“Lethallan?”

Glancing up, she met his blue-green gaze and nearly screamed. She stumbled back a bit, cheeks and ears red and hand pressed to her mouth as she stifled the sound.

Solas looked at her, dressed only from the waist down, as a healer would look upon an unknown ailment; intrigue and surprise.

“Ir abelas (I’m sorry), I didn’t mean to scare you,” he insisted, slightly breathless himself.

The cold air must have finally reached his senses because, as quickly as he opened the door, he swung it shut. “One moment!”

Lavellan stood deathly still, wondering if she should run. Before she could make up her mind, the door opened once again, now revealing a fully clothed elf. Her eyes flashed to his but not before catching a hint of pink on his cheeks.

“I apologize, Herald. I was not expecting anyone at this hour. I thought I heard someone at the door and-” he stopped himself, his gaze shifting to her clenched fist, now emanating a small amount of crackling green light. “The mark,” he stepped forward, reaching towards her and taking her hand in his. “This looks painful. Come inside. I believe I can sooth it.”

He did not release her hand as he led her inside. Lavellan followed obediently, immediately trying to catalogue every detail of his bedroom.

The cabin was small and bare. Only a few sets of clothes hung in the wardrobe and his staff rest against the desk in the corner. Atop it, a several notebooks lay scattered.

There was very little information to be gained here, she realized. No clues to solve the mystery. He led her to a lone chair sat beside the foot of the bed, near the fire that had burned down to orange coals. Turning it towards the bed, he ushered her to sit and then took a seat across from her on his bed, immediately taking to the task of examining her.

“How long has it been bothering you, Herald?”

She sighed, “please don’t call me that.”

His eyes peaked back up to hers, “What would prefer I call you then?”

Call me whatever you’d like, just don’t stop speaking to me until I’m drunk off your voice.

“Lavellan is fine,” she dragged her eyes away from his, back down to her palm.

Solas noticed the deep indents surrounding the mark. “Were you clenching your fist for very long?”

“Oh, just the amount of time a meeting with Cullen, Josephine, Cassandra and Liliana would take.”

He blanched at her, eyebrows raised, “I am surprised you did not break the skin.”

She chuckled softly, and noticed a small smile upon his lips.

He held her hand palm up, both of his hands below her as his fingers traced the crack down the center. “Does this cause you any pain?”

“No,” she hummed, “it actually feels quite nice.”

Lavellan bit down on her lip once more; a reminder that she needed to stay focused. But she eased up on her self inflicted punishment the moment she noticed the tips of Solas’s ears grow pink.

“Is there anything that has caused it to ache? More so than before?”

She tilted her head, eyes wandering the thatched roof above, full of holes and leaks (she would need to mention this to the quartermaster). “It’s been getting worse little by little, but I find that when it’s been a particularly long day, it aches more.”

He pulled his hands away from her, standing. She immediately missed the feeling of his warm skin against hers as the winter chill that he had let in nipped at her fingers. He quickly grabbed one of his notebooks from his desk and sat back down across from her, scribbling. “That is interesting,” he said softly, flipping between pages.

“What’s interesting?” she asked, a spike of anxiety in her tone.

He turned back to her, lips slightly parted, and smirked. “Nothing to be concerned with, Her-” he paused, smiling still, “Lavellan. I am simply surprised how much the skin around the mark has healed. When you first arrived in my care, it was not as slightly as it is now.”

“I’ve been meaning to ask, Solas, how long was I out?”

He rocked back turning his chin to the sky. “I would estimate… eight, nine hours?”

“And you were with me the entire time?”

He nodded, placing his pencil between the pages of his notebook and closing it up. “I feared that if I did not do my duty, they would have dragged me away along with all the other apostates.”

Shifting slightly on the threadbare linens and rough wollen blanket on his bed, Solas re-positioned himself so that he could hold Lavellan’s hand in his lap. One hand hovered above hers and a soft green light began to glow between them.

“I wouldn’t have let them do that,” she mumbled, her gaze fixed on the threads of magic being woven before her.

“You were considered guilty of murdering the Divine at the time. I doubt they would have listened to you.”

“I can be rather persuasive,” she said, shrugging.

He lifted his eyes to peak at her quickly, something she only caught for just a moment. “Is that so?”

Soon, the built up ache in her palm began to ease. She released a heavy sigh as each twist of his fingers seemed to bring a new wave of relief.

“Do not let it get this bad again, lethallan. If it begins to pain you, I ask that you come to me immediately.” He continued to shift his fingers ever so slightly, weaving the magic around her and using it to sooth whatever chaos the mark was causing.

She felt her ears twitch as a shock ran through her. Hearing him call her lethallan should not have excited her so much. She was one of the people. But the way he said it made it sound like she was one of his people.

“Have you ever seen anything like this before?” Lavellan asked, shifting slightly so that their knees barely brushed against each other.

“I doubt anyone has ever seen anything like this. Ancient elvhen artifacts don’t often fall into the hands of those who do not know how to wield them. To my understanding, what happened to you at the Conclave should have torn your body asunder.”

Nodding, she chuckled. “I suppose the occational ache doesn’t seem so bad, then.”

As his focus seemed to sharpen, so too did the magic he wielded. The roiling burn of the mark had quieted to a dull hum, then vanished altogether. Finishing, his shoulders slouched slightly. “That should ward off the pain. For now, at least.”

Lavellan drew her hand towards her and used her thumb to inspect the scar. The ache had vanished completely. Now, all she felt was her raised skin and a slight magical tingle left behind. “Ma serannas (Thank you), Solas.”

The corner of his mouth twisted upwards softly. “You speak elven beautifully,” he sighed, his eyes still fixed on her hand, now cradled between her right thumb and forefinger.

“I didn’t think there were many different ways to speak elven.”

Solas paused, then turned back to his notebook, scribbling down a few more things. “Dialects are common in nomadic languages. The elven your clan speaks might sound very different from a clan in Orlais or Rivain.”

She had never considered that and immediately 15 more questions sprung to mind. But the hour was late and she was exhausted.

“You seem to know more elvish than anyone I’ve ever met,” she said, rising to her feet.

He glanced at her, cautiously. “I am a well traveled man.”

Noting his apprehension, she wilted, “I see…” The silence held between them until finally, she stood to leave. Before reaching the door, she stopped, spinning back around. “Would you be willing to teach me?”

Solas’s eyes snapped to hers and his brows slanted. “Teach you elven?”

“Just the things you’ve learned outside of Ferelden or the Free Marches,” she smiled, “if that would be alright.”

Lavellan had seen this look on his face before. A prideful warmth that asked as many questions as it answered.

Connection. A wall beginning to come down, stone by stone.

“I would be happy to,” he smiled sheepishly at her, before standing. She struggled to twist herself back towards the door, thinking back to that urge to run she once had and how it had transformed into the urge to stay. Her stomach felt light and her mind, somewhat drunk. She had taken enough of his time.

“Thank you, again. And sorry for waking you at this hour.”

“Tel’abelas. Halam'shivanas, (I am not sorry. These is the joys of duty,)” he chuckled as he followed her to the door. “Dareth shiral (safe travels), Lavellan.” As she stepped back out into the cold, she barely noticed the chill against her skin or the snowflakes collecting on her eyelashes. She daydreamed her entire walk back to her quarters, ten thousand questions swimming in her head.

-----

Elven sources: https://the-dalish-dish.tumblr.com/language https://lingojam.com/ElvenDAI https://fenxshiral.tumblr.com/projectelvhen Like I said above, I do have a... let's call it a sequel to this that I'm happy to share over DM because I have people I know who follow me here and what happens on my AO3 is not for their eyes.

[toasttt11]

wisdom

April 29, 2023

Hayden cheered with her team feeling her whole jaw aching, The Oilers had just beat the Los Angeles Kings in the first series of the playoffs in game six.

Hayden had two goals and an assist in the game.

Hayden bonked her helmet to Ryan’s helmet as they beamed at each other.

Hayden celebrate on the ice for a while with her team before heading down to the locker room.

She sat down in her stall and she couldn’t ignore the throbbing pain in her jaw. Hayden’s been having twinges of pain here and there since the end of the season and she didn’t why but it wasn’t something that was affecting her play yet so she’s not saying anything to anyone yet.

Hayden checked her phone and frowned seeing the score of the Devils game. They lost in game six against the Ranger’s and would be going to game seven.

Hayden wanted to try and get out to see one of Luke’s and Jack’s playoff games but there’s no time for her to come out.

Luckily Jack and Luke got Ellen, Jim and Quinn with them in New Jersey.

Connor sat down in his stall and handed Hayden an ice pack and Advil. He’s noticed the way she’s been eating oddly and holding her jaw at times, he will respect her not wanting to say anything because he does the same but he won’t just sit and not help her.

Hayden looked at Connor surprised that he noticed.

“I won’t say anything unless it gets worse.” Connor whispered if he started noticing whatever was bothering was getting worst he would have go to the trainers and get checked.

Hayden nodded softly and quickly took the advil and sighed in relief as she help the ice pack to one of her jaw.

May 8, 2023

Hayden took a deep breath sitting in her stall after the game and taking a shower and just putting workout clothes back on. They had just lost in game three against the Vegas Knights.

The pain in her jaw has not gotten any better over the last week if anything it was significant worse. She noticed her jaw was starting to swell and it hurt to open her jaw.

Hayden was having a hard time eating anything and has been living on basically all protein shakes. She was always having a noticeably hard time talking and she has been barely calling or talking to anyone, mostly only answering her sibling calls before games and talking here and there at the rink.

“Alright you’re going to see the trainers now.” Connor told her as he just finished putting his suit back on.

Connor had no clue how no one noticed Hayden in so much pain but he couldn’t let her go any longer without seeing the trainers. She was starting to look like she was losing weight.

Hayden slowly nodded and stood up slowly wobbly her body weak after the game and Connor steadied her.

Connor gave Leon a nod as Leon looked over worried, Leon also noticed something off with Hayden and talked with Connor about it.

Connor walked Hayden to the trainers and helped her sit on the bed as the trainer came over.

Hayden grabbed Connor’s hand and gave him a look wanting him to stay.

Connor easily understood and nodded, he started talking for Hayden seeing she was having a hard time.

The trainer took x-rays of her jaw and she immediately saw the problem, “Her wisdoms teeth are impacted, all four of them are pressing against your teeth. Usually i would recommend you get surgery immediately for all them to be removed but with hockey i understand they won’t be possible.”

Hayden furrowed her brows gesturing to the notepad and the trainee handed it to her, “I had my wisdom teeth checked they weren’t growing in but they were straight and not growing but and not needed to be removed.” Hayden wrote it down and handed the notepad back.

“It can happen, some people’s can take years to finally start growing in.” The trainer explained.

The trainer gave Hayden a schedule of everyday IV’s as Hayden is barely getting enough nutrients, a numbing gel for the inside of her mouth to stop some pain and for her to container to take advil and use ice compressions.

May 14, 2023

Hayden hung her head low as the buzzer went off, they had just lost in game six against the Knights. They were officially eliminated from the playoffs.

Hayden honestly was barley staying standing up after the game, her wisdom teeth had got even worse and she could barley open her mouth without excruciating pain and she’s only been able to get any food by an IV. She hasn’t spoken in days.

She did tell her family that she would get wisdom teeth surgery once she was eliminated from the playoffs but didn’t say how bad it was.

Jack and Luke were eliminated from playoffs a few days ago and Jim, Ellen and Quinn were with them and they would all be in Edmonton tomorrow for Hayden’s surgery.

Hayden leaned on Ryan as she stumbled on the ice and he helped lead her off the ice.

Ryan has been staying over a lot the past few days as he was told about Hayden’s situation and didn’t want her to be alone even if she was barley sleeping because she was in so much pain.

Connor and Ryan both helped Hayden get out of her equipment and Leon came over and helped guide Hayden to the shower letting her take a quick shower and toss a simple t-shirt and athletics shorts on after.

Zach came over after Hayden finished showering and gently brushed out her hair and put it into a simple braid for a Hayden, “Feel better Blakey.” Zach whispered and Hayden softly squeezed his hand.

The whole team has noticed how everything just dimmed with Hayden not being able to talk much and being in so much pain.

Connor helped Hayden stand back up and Ryan wrapped an arm around Hayden helping her walk out.

She’s been using her very minimal energy all in the games and just completely exhausted after the games.

Ryan and Hayden walked by all the family waiting and Lauren and Celeste shared a sad smile hating how much Hayden is in pain.

May 15, 2023

Ryan picked up the Hughes as Hayden should not be driving. He also explained more about everything Hayden was dealing with the wisdom teeth as she only told them the basics not wanting to distract Jack and Luke.

Ellen walked in first immediately and hand e whole face softened seeing a miserable Hayden on her couch, “Oh bug.” Ellen cooed sitting down next to Hayden. Hayden hasn’t heard that nickname in years.

Hayden looked at her godmother with sad eyes. Her face was swollen but the rest of her look thin and she lost a lot of weight.

Ellen frowned feeling horrible Hayden has been this bad the entire time and they didn’t know.

Jim pressed a gentle kiss to Hayden’s forehead as Luke and Jack both gently cuddled on both sides of her and Quinn gave her a kiss on the forehead and sat on the floor in front of her.

Jack frowned seeing how much pain Hayden was in and stated she could barely do anything, he knew if she felt better she would be laughing at his missing tooth right now.

They had a few hours before Hayden surgery so Ellen and Quinn went to the grocery store to get a lot of soft foods for Hayden and some things for meals as they all would be staying in Edmonton for at least a week until Hayden could fly back to Michigan.

All of the Hughes went with Hayden to her surgery and Ellen and Jack went into the room with her.

Jack held Hayden’s hand as she was put under and then kissed her forehead and let her get rolled back to the surgery room.

Ellen had made Jack an appointment at the same dentist for during Hayden’s surgery and he got his implant made and would be able to pick up his fake tooth before they headed back to Michigan.

Hayden’s surgery took about two hours and she was in the post op room for almost an hour getting checked on as she came of anesthesia.

The doctor explained everything to Ellen and all of the prescriptions they would pick up as the rest of the family headed to Hayden’s room.

Hayden immediately looked a lot better, her eyes bright and not looking in pain and her face was just as swollen and her mouth had a lot of gauze.

“Jacky now we match.” Hayden’s voice slurred from all the numbness and pain medication.

Luke and Quinn immediately started laughing and Jim chuckled.

Jack laughed shaking his head fondly, now he knew his sister was feeling better as she teased him about his missing tooth.

Luke helped Hayden up and she leaned on her baby brother as he walked her out of the dentist.

Quinn had the bag of gauze for Hayden and Jack was walked in the other side of Hayden. The boys helped her get in to the car and Luke got in the back row letting Hayden sit in between Quinn and Jack.

Ellen and Jim came out and checked on Hayden before Jim started driving them back to Hayden’s home.

Hayden was mostly smiley and making jokes that just made everyone laugh.

Quinn helped Hayden out of the car and walked up to the front door and saw a giant bouquet of blue flowers on the front step.

Jack raised an eyebrow but picked up the bouquet for Hayden.

Quinn helped Hayden get her shoes off and brought her to the couch covering her with a blanket as Luke sat down next to her and handed her ice pack wrap for her face.

“Wanna see them Haydes?” Jack asked her softly and Hayden nodded and Jack brought the flowers down to her eye lever letting her look at the flowers and grabbed the card.

Hayden smiled a different smile that not a smile see often as she read the note making Jack, Quinn and Luke share a look.

Feel better Hayden. I’ll see you soon!

Love Matt <3

Hayden put the note back into the flowers, “There from Matt.” Hayden mumbled as she grabbed her stuff animal next to her, her penguin from Matt and cuddled with and rested her head on Luke’s shoulder.

“Matt.” Jack mouthed to Quinn with wide eyes making Quinn shake his head rolling his eyes fondly.

[aemonds-favorite-rider]

Their Delight.

(a/n i smoked a little weed and thought about this for quite a bit. skipped pen to paper and just went straight this. Alternate Universe where you are Rhaenyra's first born daughter before Jacaerys. also don't come at me about their accurate ages. as usual, everyone's 'legal' aged)

There was no greater celebration than when Princess Rhaenerya Targaryen safely delivered a healthy daughter. Everyone was smitten with the cooing little baby. Despite being born with dark head of curls as opposed to the Silver Targaryen and Valyrian hair, people could not help but grow to adore the little Princess (Y/N). Even now, as a young woman almost grown, Princess (Y/n) was poised with grace and wisdom. Ever the cheeky of course and she was not to be messed with, her attitude when provoked rivaled scathing fire from any dragon in the realms. Her beauty unmatched according to most talks of anybody. Small folk, Kingsguard, even her own family constantly speak of her beauty and charm.

So it would come as no surprise when her own uncles became enamored with their sweet little niece. Bastard or not, they both were unreasonably smitten, Aegon being two years her senior and Aemond a year your junior with her being Helaenas age, although now one and nine. She sat atop the Iron Throne presently. Her lips stretched into a polite smile as she listen to yet another small houses proposal.

"Thank you, Lord Tully, for such a generous marriage proposal." (Y/n) responds sweetly, her voice dripping honey practically. "I will need time to consider such an offer." She gives a default response, the same response she had given the several before him, and several after him. The man bows deeply with a hopeful grin on his face before heading towards the door. Leaving (Y/n) to exhale tiredly as she speaks through her teeth. "And next would be...?" The tiredness in her tone cannot be mistake before her now stepfather and uncle Daemon speaks with a chuckle. "Perhaps a break?" he suggests as she smiles appreciatively up at him. Not needing further invitation and she stands before leaving for the gardens. Reveling in the moment by herself in such a peaceful setting.

Aegon, however, watches her carefully as he chomps on an apple messily. Swallowing a bite before setting the apple on the stone railing before falling in stride next to you.

"Well, if it isn't the little realms delight." he teases playfully as he stare at you with a lopsided smirk. "You look ravishing today, you know niece?" He flirts shamelessly as he looks you up and down. (Y/n) can't help the chuckle that escapes at yet another one of her Uncles reckless attempts of flirting, going to speak before a cool yet dark voice speaks from the other side of her

"That is a big word for you Aegon. Where would you have learned such lexicon?" Aemond speaks with a smirk as his brothers face falls into a scowl. "Perhaps you heard it used in one of the brothels you visit?" Aemond suggests as you bite back a laugh. If looks could kill, you wouldn't wish to be Aemond Targaryen with the way his brothers eyes fill with absolute anger.

"Perhaps it's best if-"

"How is Madam Sylvi these days, Aemond? See i have cut back quite a bit on my visits...but i hear the same cannot be said of you." Aegon quips back. The princess between them both stops walking, causing the bickering prince's to do the same. Sighing heavily as she realizes they were going to argue over her once more.

'Flattering, truly' she thinks to herself as her eyes dart back and forth between them both as they begin to heatedly exchange insults. The princess takes the moment to study each brother.

She studies the way Aegon's full lips twitch in anger. His hands animatedly flying around as his skin grows red while he speaks defensively. A vein ever present in his neck that leaves her flushed. Her eyes darting over to take in Aemond's cool and casual demeanor. His sharp jaw clenched as he spews casual insults and jabs.

"Excuse me?" She calls out as she holds up a hand to stop them both. "If I may?" she sasses slightly with a lopsided cheeky grin. Leaving both brothers to freeze, Aegon in frustration and Aemond in an embarrassment. Having both lost their cool in front of you before you speak again. "You know...the betrothals are a formality...Targaryen customs and all." She speaks calmly before biting her lip.

"You both have been fighting for my affection since childhood you know. I have taken notice you know. I am to wed one of you, which is not something I wish to do." She utters, causing both brothers to deflate visibly. A slow smirk spreading onto her face before speaking. "I mean after all, Aegon the Conqueror had two wives...who says i cannot have two husbands?" she state simply before turning on her heel. Leaving both brothers to stand in shock as their hearts practically explode. Warmth rising to Aemonds cheeks as he picks up his slackened jaw before turning to his brother. Aegon's awestruck grin, and obvious arousal at your boldness stands frozen in the hallway.

"A delight indeed." He giggles as Aemond and him watch your retreating figure head back into the throne room. Aemond swallows hard before nodding in agreement.

[garden-of-gay]

Can You Feel It? It's Burlesque Part 3

I promised a longer 3rd chapter and now here it is. This took much longer to write than I anticipated thanks to stupid chronic pain and my teeth being stolen (my wisdom teeth got removed). Anyhow, I persevered and now present to you a shiny new chapter of my Burlesque AU...enjoy <3

Ch 1, Ch2, Ch 3, Ch 4, Ch 5

Also here on Ao3

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Eddie decided that if he was going to be working at the Burlesque Lounge he might as well know a bit more about the history of Burlesque. The more he learned about Burlesque performers the more he yearned to be one of them. They were so elegant and sexy while still having the respect that other professions like this didn’t. He envied the people who got to do this every night as most of his nights nowadays were spent watching the dancers on stage to learn the routines as well as waiting a shit ton of tables often to some ungrateful patrons but hey, that’s just part of the gig.  

Tonight was no different in a lot of ways as Billy was up on the stage in a barely-there mesh and lace outfit that showed off his muscles as he lip-synced along to Dr. Long John by Bette Midler; one of the more comedic performances at the club.

I got a dentist who's over seven feet tall

I have a dentist who's over seven feet tall

His name is Doctor Long John

And he answers every call

While the performance was great and all, Eddie still had work to do, which is how he found himself at the back of the house near Joyce’s office ready to bring some drinks up for the dancers once they were done with this number. As Eddie made his way back, he heard arguing from inside the office and stood listening for a minute.

“You know not that I give a shit but why do you want my club so badly,” Joyce asked.

“I like it, when I see something I like, I have to have it. Been that way since I was a kid” the voice of Henry Creel said

“Well, that must have made you very popular in the sandbox” Joyce retorted, clearly annoyed.

“I did okay” Henry murmured.

Eddie couldn’t make out much of what was being said but it was clear that some sort of business mumbo jumbo was going down, and he really shouldn’t be listening into this conversation, but on the other hand, he just couldn’t help himself. What he could understand is that Joyce was becoming upset and was beginning to raise her voice making it much easier for Eddie to understand what was going on.

“No!” Joyce exclaimed

“She means not now” Lonnie suggested

“No, no. Not now means not now, Lonnie, no means no” Joyce said, turning her growing ire on her ex-husband.

“Henry, I don’t care what you’re offering my club isn’t for sale” Joyce explained firmly, making it clear that the conversation was over now.

“Well, offers on the table” Henry breathed out

“Thanks,” Joyce said sarcastically

It looked like the three were heading towards the doors and Eddie took that as his cue to bolt up the stairs so as not to be caught eavesdropping on a conversation as important as the one they were just having.

-

Once upstairs and in the clear of any possible suspicion, Eddie began serving the drinks to the dancers, making small talk as he went. When he was down to just two shots, he noticed Joyce approaching him.

“Uh oh,” Eddie thought, he worried that Joyce might have noticed his spying somehow and was coming to tell him off. He was surprised instead when her face softened, and she asked him:

“Are these Billy’s?”

“Yeah, they are” Eddie replied

Billy seemed to have noticed where Eddie was and approached to claim his drinks. At the same time, Joyce reached over and downed both of his shots, one at a time before turning to face an offended Billy.

“Those were mine” he complained.

“Yeah? Well now I got a buzz, and you have no shots, deal with it, Billy” Joyce said before turning her back to the men and walking towards where they stored the costumes and where Robin already was.

Eddie quickly followed meaning to discuss the potential of doing live vocals in the clubs from now on; he really believed that it could be a hit and rake in some more money for the club. Especially since he now knew the club was at risk of being bought out; not that he would tell Joyce that he knew that part.

“Um. Hey Joyce, you know how all of our dancer’s lip sync?” Eddie asked

“Yes, they do all except Joyce” Robin answered

“Well, I just think that we could have all our dancers sing and….” Eddie began before trailing off upon seeing Joyce’s annoyed face.

Joyce gave a look directed at Robin, which she seemed to understand perfectly as the next thing he knew, Eddie was being pushed back towards the stairs and told to go back and work the floor.

“Maybe come back later, or not,” Robin told him sarcastically.

-

Eddie was really tired from tonight; people were bitchier than usual and he wanted nothing more than to crash on the bed he currently called home and sleep for the next year. He couldn’t do that however because upon entering his hotel room Eddie’s blood ran cold. The place was absolutely trashed, his clothes were strewn about, the drawers were ransacked and upon checking where he stashed his money, he found it empty.

“Goddammit, son of a bitch” he exclaimed in frustration

His dad must have had some of his goons track him down and now he was no longer safe here.

 Eddie took inventory of the room looking to save as much of his things as he could but stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the frame holding his mother’s photo in it. The glass was shattered leaving just the photo and he couldn’t contain the emotion he felt once he saw the photo.

He grabbed the photo and slowly sunk to the floor, his back against the bed, and began to sob. He was so far away from his uncle Wayne and now he wasn’t safe here. He had to get out of here and find someplace safe but the only address he knew was Steve’s. Which is how he found himself in a taxi on his way to Steve’s hoping that the man would let him stay the night.

-

“Eddie?” Steve called out not expecting to find his coworker on the stoop outside his home.

“You can just have a seat,” he said opening the door to his home and motioning for Eddie to come inside.

“I’m going to grab us both a drink, yeah?” He said looking at Eddie’s sad face

Steve then turned and grabbed his phone before handing it to Eddie

“Oh, and here. Call whoever you want. Long distance, whatever” Steve said but Eddie just stared at him a moment before tears began welling in his eyes.

“I can’t” Eddie cried

“What do you mean?” Steve asked gently

“I can’t go back, it’s not safe. I can’t endanger my uncle like that” He blubbered.

“So, you’re not here to use my phone,” Steve said gently putting the puzzle pieces together. Robin always said he was a bit oblivious at times.

Eddie just continued to look at him for a moment before the tears in his eyes began to fall down his face and the man began to shake and sob.

“Hey, hey, no, no, no it will be all right,” he said wrapping Eddie up in a hug that it seems he so desperately needed.

“You can crash here” Steve murmured into Eddie’s mane of hair.

“Just please, please, stop crying,” Steve said

“Okay. Okay,” Eddie replied, drying his eyes and giving Steve a sad smile that made him want to wrap him back up in his arms.

Steve then hands Eddie a drink, which Eddie gratefully takes, taking a large gulp from the cup before Steve asks:

“Better?”

“Good,” Eddie replied

“Just one night, till it’s light out and I can figure out my next move,” Eddie promised, putting his pinkie out.

“Deal,” Steve said, hooking his pinkie with Eddie’s

-

Later that night as Eddie laid on Steve’s couch, he listened to the man play a melody on his keyboard.

“That’s beautiful, who wrote that?” Eddie asked

“I did” Steve replied shyly, face flushing just a bit.

 God, he looked edible like that, and Eddie just wanted to taste him, but he knew that it wasn’t like that, that Steve wasn’t like that.

“Steve, that’s…. That’s really good” Eddie replied instead.

“Thank you,” Steve said flushing a darker crimson

“You have more?” Eddie asked

“Yeah,” Steve said pausing for a moment before continuing:

“Nothing that’s ready to be heard”

“Hey Steve…. why did you leave Hawkins?” Eddie asked it was a question that had been nagging him since he had met the man

“Why did you leave Indianapolis?” Steve volleyed back

“Because I looked around and realized…. there wasn’t one person whose life I wanted” Eddie answered easily

“Exactly,” Steve said softly

“Hey Steve…I’m really glad I don’t have to be alone tonight” Eddie said in earnest hoping the low lights of the room hid his flush.

“Get some sleep” Steve said as he gathered his thing making his way to his own room.

-

Eddie woke up in Steve’s house the next morning and decided that he was going to be nice and make breakfast for the man as it was the least, he could do after he was allowed to stay the night.

“I took the liberty of making breakfast. I hope you don’t mind, it’s the least I could do” Eddie said after Steve emerged from his room.

“Smells great” Steve said with a smile

Eddie then motioned towards a photo of Steve and a curly haired brunette woman had seen when he was first collecting things for breakfast.

“She’s pretty, your sister?” He asked

“Fiancée.” Steve replied, smile going soft

“Makes sense” Eddie said with a curt nod. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little disappointed that Steve wasn’t single even if he had no chance with him.

“What about him, your brother” Eddie said motioning to another picture of Steve with a freckly boy.

“No, my first boyfriend, I’m still friends with him too” Steve replied with a chuckled

“You’re Bi?” Eddie exclaimed

“You thought I was straight!?” Steve asked exasperated

“Yeah!!” Eddie replied loudly

“I thought the eyeliner was all just part of the look for the club” Eddie said, feeling like a bumbling idiot the longer the conversation when on.

“Well, I mean it works for the club sooo…” Steve said with a smirk on his face

“Okay, I should probably put on a shirt now” Eddie said, feeling suddenly very exposed compared to how he had felt a moment ago.

“Probably” Steve replied sarcastically, eyes roving over Eddie’s tattooed chest.

“So, where is she, this fiancée?” Eddie asked, fumbling at putting on more clothes as quickly as possible.

“She’s in New York doing a big journalist piece” Steve said watching Eddie with great confusion.

“Well now that I know your engaged, I feel really weird about coming here in the first place” Eddie blurted out before adding

“I’m just going to now”

“You don’t have to go; it’s pouring outside anyway” Steve said looking at Eddie like he grew another head.

“If you could just get the door for me that would be great, thanks” Eddie said, hellbent on getting the fuck out of Steve’s house and out of the embarrassing situation he had found himself in.

“Okay, well I’ll see you at the club” Steve said, getting the door for Eddie and continuing to look at his with confusion on his face.

Eddie stepped out into the pouring rain, grabbing a newspaper to shield his hair from the rain and he took a deep breath out. Watching and waiting for the next bus to come and scoop him up, out of here.

Steve watches Eddie from outside his window for a moment before marching his way out to the front of the building and yelling at Eddie.

“Eddie, what the hell are you doing? Come back inside!”

“No Steve it’s fine you have already done enough for me” Eddie huffed

“It’s pouring, you’ll catch a cold” Steve yelled, putting his hands on his hips.

“It’s just water for Christ’s sake, I’ll be fine” Eddie yelled back

“Get your ass back in my house, now,” Steve said approaching Eddie, now getting wet himself

“No, I’m fine” Eddie shouted, embarrassment growing by the minute.

“Alright, alright fine, fine, here we go,” Steve said before turning on Eddi.e

Steve then picked up all of Eddie’s belongings before scooping up Eddie in his arms bridal style and marching them both back into his house. Though he was annoyed, Eddie still found himself flushing at the display of strength and pure muscle that Steve possessed.

“Put me down, what are you doing!?” Eddie hissed

“You have nowhere to go, and I have a couch, like it or not you’re staying here for a few more days” Steve replied sternly.

Eddie stood in Steve’s living room dumbfounded and looking like a wet dog. He shivered a bit now that he was indoors, but he refused to break the firm eye contact Steve had established. Just as he was getting a bit antsy Steve’s phone rang; breaking the spell they had both been under.

“Hey Nance,” he said into the phone.

Steve paused for a moment and the woman on the other end of the line must have said something, prompting a response from him.

“Really? That’s great”

-

Joyce had gotten in a bit early today to make up for coming in late yesterday and was on her way into the bathroom when she heard the telltale signs of someone throwing up. She looked under the gap in the stall and saw a pair of shoes she recognized so she called out.

“Vickie?”

“Yeah” Vickie replied

She opened the stall looking pale and overall, not in any shape to perform.

“Oh God, please don’t have the flu” Joyce teased.

Vickie looked at Joyce giving her a curt sad nod and holding onto her stomach. Instantly the pieces clicked together in Joyce’s mind, and she had but one thought.

“Oh, God. Please have the flu” Joyce begged.

“Why do they call it morning sickness if it hits you at every fricking moment of the day?” Vickie choked out

“Have you told Dan yet?” Joyce asked

“No, not yet” Vickie sniffled

“Well, sweetheart, you know at some point he’s going to notice,” Joyce said, lightheartedly.

“He’s a guy, he won’t notice until my belly is blocking the TV” Vickie joked.

“Well, what are you going to do?” Joyce asked gently

“I don’t know Joyce. I’m really scared” Vickie cried, tears streaming down her face

“Oh honey, don’t be scared. Whatever you decide we will take care of you. Okay?” Joyce said softly

“But you have got to tell Dan,” she said more sternly

“I just figured as long as he doesn’t know I can still pretend he’s going to be excited about it,” Vickie said with a sad smile.

“He’s going to be thrilled! Are you kidding? He’ll be thrilled” Joyce said with a big smile on her face.

Joyce gave Vickie a big hug and hoped and prayed that Dan would be thrilled otherwise she was going to be not only down a dancer but also down a wonderful person. She wanted nothing more than for this to go well for Vickie.

-

Joyce now had to audition a new dancer to take Vickie’s place which meant sitting through plenty of people who just wouldn’t cut it, but she would give it a shot regardless.

Eddie happened to come in early today and saw dancers on the stage he didn’t recognize, he knew that this could be his shot to prove himself; and show he belonged on the stage.

“Thank you very much, people” Robin called out

“What happened to all the great dancers in L.A?” Joyce whispered to Robin

“They are dancing with the stars” Robin retorted

“Call Murray and ask him, he might have somebody,” Joyce told her

While Robin and Joyce were talking to one another, Eddie had made his way to the stage and had begun to dance when Joyce noticed she glanced briefly at him before calling out to the sound guy

“Hey Dave, cut it,” Joyce said sternly

Eddie was fed up with this and he decided to make it known

“Hold on a second, I can do this” Eddie huffed

“And I think it's sweet that you think you can,” Joyce said

“Just tell me what you are looking for,” Eddie said raising his voice

“Someone who can do the routine,” Joyce said also raising her voice

Joyce got up and started walking away and this really pissed Eddie off. He hadn’t really been known to keep his cool and it seemed that he was not about to start now.

“Excuse me!? I’m talking to you!” Eddie yelled, causing Joyce to turn back around

He heard Robin mutter an “Oh shit” but paid it no mind as all he was seeing right now was red.

“Just tell me what you want” Eddie yelled.

“I can’t tell you. Nobody can tell you. You got to make me believe that you belong up there, that you own that stage and nobody’s going to take it from you” Joyce shouted back.

“That’s the way it works, you want to show me something, show me that” Joyce huffed out incredibly annoyed at this point.

“All right, which number do you want to see? I know every single one” Eddie replied raising his voice a bit.

Joyce scoffed before replying

“Every number?”

“Yeah, which one do you want to see,” Eddie said, raising his voice a bit more.

“Wagon Wheel Watusi” Joyce finally replied

Eddie smiled; he could do this all he had to do was wait for the music to begin.

-

Eddie heard the opening chords to the song and began to dance, getting lost in the music and the steps forgetting what he was looking to prove and just feeling everything instead. He hadn’t even realized both Steve and some of the other dancers had made their way into the club until he turned around for some of the steps and caught their eyes glued to him. This just gave him more motivation to do well, if there was one thing Eddie Munson thrived on, it was an audience. The number finished up and he heard Robin say to Joyce “Well I couldn’t keep my eyes off him” before Joyce muttered something he couldn’t make out and then called out to him.

“You know, you were off the whole last half,” Joyce said with a slight smirk

“Come on Joyce. Come on, I’ll…I’ll practice until I bleed…I... I know I can do this” Eddie stammered, voice getting loud again.

“If you just give me a chance, I swear to God, I won’t disappoint you! Didn’t anyone ever give you a shot?” Eddie yelled

“Please I want this so bad” He practically begged

“All right, God! You got the job” Joyce cried out.

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

Taglist:

@irregular-child

@disrespectedgoatman

[idalenn]

Day 1 - Steer

Aftermath of the Crystal Tower. Alphinaud learns from a true businessman. (A Realm Reborn)

Full text below the cut if you'd rather read it on Tumblr instead of Ao3.

“And of the boy – were you successful locating his next of kin?”

“The documents provided by NOAH were bereft of evidence related to his origins. Unofficially, we’ve heard claims he may have familial ties within the Corvosi of southeastern Ilsabard.” The Elezen woman tapped a quill to the open, hide-backed volume in her hands. “But we are unable to confirm their validity at this time. It remains hearsay.”

“Then our efforts must be concentrated in a more scholarly direction. We cannot simply shrug our shoulders when it comes to Sharlayan. Having the loss of their pupil go unrecognized, or worse – underappreciated – will impact future endeavors. Reparations will soften the blow and secure fertile grounds for tilling.” With his own writing tool, edges leafed in gold and tipped with a brilliant ruby, Lolorito scratched his final signature onto the treaty.

A click of the inlaid jewel sent the tool’s end retreating into itself. Black ink dripped from the hole; blood from an open wound. One quick swipe with cloth made of finer material than Lillian would ever own picked it up without a trace left behind. Lolorito curtly tossed the cloth back among the ink pots. “A veritable drop in the ocean of spoils we’ve earned this day, wouldn’t you agree?”

Lillian felt a veritable ocean of sweat growing in her boots. Devoid of windows or any sort of opening to the outside save the single door combined with an abundance of crystal-lit lanterns, the Monetarist’s chamber buffered her and Alphinaud with a furnace’s heat. Even wearing gloves she feared taking the document in hand and drenching their hard work. The scars across her face ached under the pressure.

“Adamantite. Allagan technology. Wisdom beyond measure and reach, and beyond price some might claim, but there will be a price, and as sole owner of that crystal tower, the price shall be any figure negotiable.” The Lalafell chuckled to himself as he sealed the treaty with wax and sigil before sliding it across the desk. “And this is just the beginning. I know our contract was only for the tower’s acquisition, but I have grand plans in motion for future expansion, and you’re just the two to help see them bear fruit.” He spread his arms wide as though welcoming them into his embrace. “Care to stay for a time?”

Another cramp ran through Lillian’s leg. The chairs they sat in were perfectly Lalafell sized, undoubtedly Lolorito’s primary audience, but less so for the snow-haired Elezen child across from him, and unbearably small for the Miqo’te dwarfing every other soul in the room, whose legs were forcibly kept at such an angle between chair and desk that, if this meeting continued much longer, were liable to fall off.

“Other business calls.” She said.

“Of course. Scions and governments running you ragged must come first, but forget not my offer. And you, Master Alphinaud? From your quiet I must believe in some thought being given.”

Alphinaud took the treaty in a shaking hand. “Your assistance to the Crystal Braves is greatly appreciated, Lord Lolorito. If I may, I have but one more question, and after we’ll be on our way.”

“Then I take it you need time to consider.” Lolortio stroked his goatee, smiling with brilliant white teeth. The mask made interpreting his expression impossible. To Lillian it appeared a predator’s grin. “Very well. The floor is yours, my boy.”

“Care to share the details on how you intend to move forward? Specifically, I wish to know how you will honor the loss of G’raha Tia, without whom this endeavor would have ended in failure.” The Elezen aide narrowed her eyes. Lolorito’s smile never dropped an ilm.

“For effort contributed, I suppose you can be trusted with particulars. I am nothing if not fair, as Nald’Thal demands.” One of the lanterns flickered, and a glint off a gold-plated scale on the Lalafell’s desk caught Lillian’s attention. “G’raha Tia has no will, no family of note who can be contacted or given payment, and represents no organization outside of one within Sharlayan. Any and all possessions within NOAH’s hands will be returned to that organization. His share will, of course, be divided amongst all hired.

“Sharlayan will receive a lump sum of gil in an amount yet to be determined but no less than two hundred thousand. That previously mentioned organization will also partake of a sizable donation. Ah, but this name eludes me.” He snapped his fingers rapidly as if trying to light a spark. “I’m sure it began with ‘students’ something or other… the students of…”

“Baldesion.” Alphinaud finished through gritted teeth.

“It is refreshing, Master Alphinaud, to meet another so untrained in subtleties and be reminded I am not so alone in this world. As someone eyeing to hold a position of political power in our realm, you would do well to either hone a silver tongue or abandon all pretense of furthering your cause with it.”

“You only saw our friend as numbers to be counted!”

“Absolutely! Much in the same way you yourself only see the Syndicate in measures of usefulness and value to your coffers. Life is a series of numbers! You sought profits as well as I, my boy, and in doing so one must on occasion plan for declines. All gathered in this room have value, and all will be made equal should misfortune come to pass.”

Lolorito leaned forward over the desk, his hands folded together in a wall from which atop he stood a giant before Alphinaud and the Warrior of Light. “You captain an uncertain ship, Master Alphinaud, and unless you wish your company dashed amongst the rocks, you had best learn to steer.”

[oneatlatime]

More Zuko Alone Thoughts

Last season our expository Zuko episode was The Storm, an episode which I loved. It was both a well-written and well-animated piece of media, and enthralling to watch. I don't want to say enjoyable because of the subject matter discussed, but it was certainly good.

This season's expository Zuko episode was Zuko Alone, and I didn't like it. Although it was animated fantastically, I found the characterisation of Zuko in the present day sections to be completely off. I found it embarrassing, awkward, and frustrating to watch. Now, I've seen the rating this episode has on IMDb, so I know this is just my opinion, and a fairly unpopular one at that. I'm also aware that I'm biased because Zuko is not my favourite character. But I want to explore why, in my opinion, The Storm stuck the landing while Zuko Alone flubbed it.

Here's what I think is the main reason: The Storm is Aang's story about his past, juxtaposed with Iroh's story about Zuko's past. Aang and Iroh are our storytellers; Aang and Zuko are the stories being told.

Zuko Alone is Zuko's story of the present, being experienced through Zuko's perspective, juxtaposed with Zuko's story in the past, being experienced through Zuko's memories. It's too much Zuko, and unlike the characters in The Storm, Zuko has no idea what's going on.

Despite his flightiness and inability to take things seriously, Aang is perceptive, socially and emotionally intelligent (as much as a 12 year old can be), and able to be subtle when the situation calls for it. Look at The Great Divide: as soon as he had the appropriate backstory info, he saw right to the heart of the conflict, he saw that it was stupid as Hell, and he saw and successfully executed a way to fix it that relied entirely on an accurate assessment of all involved parties' stances. And it worked.

Iroh has easily the highest perception stat in the whole show, when he isn't being deliberately obtuse. His wisdom is off the charts, if his one liners are anything to go by.

So despite some very (very) notable differences, Aang and Iroh have similarities in their personalities and their perspectives, and importantly for this post, in their self-knowledge.

Then we get Zuko, who has the perceptiveness and subtlety of a mud brick to the teeth, all the wisdom of a bandaid wrapper, and the social and emotional intelligence of something that starts to grow in your sink when it's been too long since you did the dishes.

Aand and Iroh can see the themes, lessons, mistakes, and places for improvement in the stories they're telling, about themselves and others. Zuko is stumbling through both his past and his present. The Storm is compelling because the audience gets to simultaneously learn expository detail and watch Aang and Iroh go through a process of self-analysis, recrimination, and commitment to doing better. It's an info dump with a hefty dose of character building on the side.

Zuko in Zuko Alone is a dumbass blindly stumbling into the same mistakes we've already seen him make, learning nothing in the process (that I could detect - maybe he'll run into the family's older brother in a few episodes and work up the courage to save him based on what he learned during his time with that family, who knows). Zuko has been trained to be a fighter, not a person, so of course he's going to fail at the 'soft skills' parts of being human. So Zuko needs someone with him to do/model that soft skills work until he learns how to do it for himself. But Zuko is alone in Zuko Alone, so the character development that could have happened doesn't.

I don't need morals and themes explicitly spelled out in the narrative; I'm fine with subtext. But Zuko in Zuko Alone so thoroughly misses what's going on in the episode that it's annoying to watch. And there's no indication at the end of the episode that he's learned anything from having missed those things. There's no indication that he's aware that there was anything to miss.

In The Storm, Aang has Katara to bounce off of and help talk him through his story. Iroh's wise enough not to need a foil, but he does have the ship's crew, both as a reason to tell the story and as an audience to play off of. Heck, in Bato of the Water Tribe, Sokka has Bato giving the speech about the lonely wolf to help him understand the point Sokka's dad was trying to make in the flashback, and avoid the wrong course of action (leaving Aang behind). Aang moves on from self-recrimination and Iroh has won back Zuko's crew's loyalty at the end of The Storm; Sokka has finally understood 'being a man means being where you're needed the most' by the end of Bato of the Water Tribe. But Zuko is alone by choice in Zuko Alone, so he finishes the episode exactly where he started, his mother's last words entirely misinterpreted. No wiser, probably unable to even articulate where he went wrong beyond fire = bad in this context.

There seems to be a theme in this show of the necessity of friends and family networks and support. Aang (with Katara's help), Iroh (with the crew as audience and motivator), Sokka (with Bato's help), all come to better understandings of their responsibilities and/or their mistakes by working things out with the help of at least one other person. Zuko ditches Iroh to play at being a lone wolf and fails in a way that's frankly embarrassing to watch.

So the reason I don't like Zuko Alone is that he's doomed to fail from the start. Zuko is (trying to) go about his character development in a way this show has already showed us is opposite to how it should be done. I'm not fond of 'doomed from the start' narratives as a general rule, mostly because to me they feel like a bad investment. If you know it's all going to end badly (because it started wrong), then why bother committing the time and effort the narrative asks of you? (She says, having read The Silmarillion twice).

So if I became Queen of the world tomorrow and decreed that Zuko Alone needed to be changed to fit my personal tastes, how would I do it? The obvious answer is to shove Iroh in there, but it probably wouldn't work anyway, because Zuko is not showing any signs of being ready to listen - REALLY LISTEN - to those wiser than him. I'm not sure if he's even ready to admit yet that there are people who ARE wiser than him. He's already admitted that there are people with more martial prowess than him, like his sister, but I don't think Zuko actually values wisdom enough to see its worth. So it's probably not even on his radar. If Iroh's presence wouldn't work, what about having a removed narrator, like Iroh did for Zuko's story in The Storm? A narrator who is not as thoroughly blind to what's going on in the past and the present as Zuko. Maybe a single episode character, who tells the story of that time a stranger came to town? That might work. It would fit with the genre this episode is paying homage to. Or you could have an interesting juxtaposition, where the narrator character is not omniscient, narrating the present only, and Zuko is completely alone during the flashback bits. That would probably lead to Zuko making the same mistakes anyway, since it's really his past that he needs to work through.

Or maybe I'm reading way too much into this and I just don't like Zuko enough as a character to like a Zuko-centric story, no matter how it's told. Or maybe 24 minutes of second-hand embarrassment is 24 too many for me. At least he's keeping Song's horse bird fed.

[creativenicocorner]

Hello! I'm really curious what Starry Starry Night is about?

♡(o˘◡˘o) Thank you so much @disorganised-thoughtss for asking! ♡

This is another fic I'm excited to sink my teeth into when I get the chance!

"Starry Starry Night" is heavily inspired by the manga Insomniacs After School by Makoto Ojiro.

I plan on having it be very Tome centric, taking place nearly directly after the events of the Reigen Manga. As a result of Rusty-chan, the forest, and Roshūto, Tome develops a really bad case of insomnia and really struggles to sleep. Making her snap a little more than usual, and causing a bit of growing pains in terms of inserting herself into Spirits and Such.

The following is a super rough bit of back and forth during some brainstorming. I'm always fascinated by the thought of either Tome or Teruki feeling ... complicated feelings as (what they feel to be but aren't) 'replacements'.

Idk I'm not married to this bad and forth, but I think some version of this will perhaps exist in the finished product:

"I know why you really don’t want me here.” “Yeah?” Challenged Reigen, matching jeering tone with jeering tone. And then Tome straightened, right and serious and deftly to the point in the only way teenagers can: Terrifyingly. “You’re just mad I’m here instead of Shigeo." A fiery whine tinged her voice with emotion. Tome hated it, hated how her eyes felt prickly with potential tears. "You wish he were here, instead of me.” Reigen’s eyes widened, then he looked away, unable to meet Tome’s challenging eyes. Mostly because, in that moment, he was too ashamed. Dreadfully so. She was right…in a small sense. He did miss Mob, but he had grown, and that's okay. Reigen just didn't realize how much he'd miss him until the moment Tome pointed it out. And it made him feel wretched. He had no idea Tome felt this way... did Teruki as well? Or any of the other gaggle of teens? Reigen took a measured breath while Tome pointed at the act as if exposing condemning evidence. "See!" Tome continued her jabbing motion. "I knew it!" Serizawa looked between the pair of them, unsure how to help. A growing silence was filling the restaurant as fellow patrons turned to watch the scene in curiosity. Reigen and Tome ignored them. "Alright," said Reigen, resigned, and painfully honest, "…yes." "HAH!" Tome jumped, and nearly caused the table in their booth to jolt. "I do miss him," continued Reigen, ignoring her interruption. "But that doesn't mean I expect you to replace him. You're your own person Tome, and he is his own person. No one can replace another. People aren't things, it doesn't work like that. Which means you are irreplaceable in your own right, Tome-chan." The dagger straight point of Tome's index finger transformed slowly into something less sharp. Serizawa smiled, and politely passed Tome a tissue. With fumbling hands she accepted Serizawa's tissue gratefully. Then looked away from Reigen's knowing look, "shut up." Reigen nodded. "Allergies, huh?" "Whatever." Reigen and Serizawa shared a smile. Over the sounds of Tome blowing her nose, Serizawa said cheerfully, "I wonder what they have to offer for dessert."

Anywho... Instead of sitting around at home, staring at the ceiling waiting for a sleep that won't come, Tome starts spending her nights wandering Seasoning City alone which is interesting, until not safe/risk of getting caught by a bicycle cop.

During one of her nightly escapades she runs into Takenaka (who struggles with insomnia for different reasons. Wanting to take advantage of the night as one of the few times the world is a little quieter for the telepath. Making it one of the few times he doesn't need to use his headphones). Shenanigans ensue, but also a far deeper friendship than before.

One night they stumbles across Reigen as well, (likewise still experiencing after effects of dealing with Rusty), but his insomnia is something he had been dealing with since before dealing with Rusty. Words of wisdom etc and encouragement for Tome to learn astronomy. Among other Tome and Reigen shenanigans as I love them as a bombastic chaotic duo.

Somewhere down the line Tome manages to convince Reigen to chaperone for school sanctioned nightly escapades for night time photography.

Serirei things happen in the background, sometimes mirroring Tome's own navigations of the heart (she WILL be a disaster bisexual because I DO make the rules of this fic haha). And perhaps exploring what it is like to be in a fresh new relationship with each other (serirei)?

And uh, yeah! I have a very vague idea, but a barely there outline, and am filled with vibes. I'm very excited for this concept though! I think Tome developing a love for astronomy and star gazing feels completely natural considering her love of aliens. And yeah, I want to see more Tome and Reigen scenarios/shenanigans, as well as explore her relationship with Takenaka more

We'll see how these vibes grow haha

(♡˙︶˙♡)Thank you so much again for the ask!!