#names ain't my forte

[throwaway-yandere]

Hi! Love your work so much and I adore the effort you put into your stuff. I'm making a genshin otome and was wondering if it'd be okay to ask for a promo of sorts in the future? It's absolutely completely 100% valid and understandable if you don't wish to promo other works in your own blog though! I just wanted to ask first for permission or whether it's okay or not! Thanks for reading! Love ya <3

Love your work so much

Press X to doubt, you sound saner than an average reader

Okay kidding aside, I'm not exactly the most influential/popular person so I'm not sure how I'd be able to help but I can reblog it(?) for sure! I enjoy genshin and otome games so yeah!!! Even if you didn't read my works I'd still look forward to this lmao. Wish you the best in making the game <333

[armchairaleck]

Many times do I look at the Dragon Prince map and wish it was populated with just a few more details.. great for rivers and mountains, and uhhh.. that's about it..

[shellshocklove]

moanin' & groanin' | logan howlett

pairing/AU: lumberjack!logan howlett/wolverine x inexperienced!female!reader

summery: working for your father's timber business isn't what you saw yourself doing, but when the wolverine comes looking for work it's suddenly not so bad – especially when he can teach you a thing or two.

warnings: this is an 18+ fic so mdni! age gap (in the way that his mutant abilities prolongs his life), swearing, use of pet names, smut, car sex, praise, a little dacryphilia, logan's got a dirty mouth, soft dom!logan, a little size kink (basically logan has a big dick), handjob, fingering, a little manhandling, unprotected sex (don't do it!!), no use of y/n

a/n: um hi! this is my first ever logan fic. i really hope i got him right! not beta read, and barely edited so any mistakes are my own. happy reading! <3

main masterlist / ao3

The pages crinkled under your fingertips as you turned another page. Over the top of your book you could see your father's men milling about, getting the timber ready for another outgoing truck. Day in and day out they worked like flannel-covered ants. 

He wasn't here, your father, leaving you to hold down the fort, or office to be precise, as he  ran errands. "I'll be back before lunch," he'd told you, a hand passing through the sleeve of his tan Carhartt.

The office felt bigger when he wasn't here, like his neuroticism took up twice as much space as he did himself. You looked around the room. It was small, more like a hut than anything else, raised up on cinderblocks. A tiny kitchen lined the front wall, the refrigerator had given out once this month already and something smelled like it had died in there, the white florescent light under the wall cabinets gave you a headache, and the tap drip drip dripped. The table and the mismatched chairs, your father had found at a fleamarked years ago, before you were born most likely, and they wore the wear and tear of years of use. 

Every available surface was covered in papers, and the wooden shelves on the wall dipped in the middle from the weight of the binders. When you were little you'd been afraid the wood would break in two, but they were still standing (hanging?) – maybe they'd stay like that for the rest of eternity for all you knew. Your father's office had only one desk, which made your job as occasional office manager and full-time problem solver, problematic. 

Your father would sit in his chair on one side, while you'd steal one of the mismatched chairs and occupy the other end. If you'd had your way, you wouldn't be working here. The timber business interested you just as much as your father was interested in the disco they played on the radio. "If it ain't the king of rock I don't want to hear it," he usually said and switched the channel. 

But the town was small, and no one was hiring. The summer after you'd finished high school you'd dreamt of moving to the city, but the money had been tight and your father needed you. At least the work, if your father didn't meddle, was relatively easy: answer the phone, type out the invoices and salaries, keep an eye on logistics, and make sure whatever breaks gets fixed. 

The radio hummed at a low volume, one of the singles from Tapestry, as you turned another page of your book. Leaning back in your father's office chair, you glanced at the clock over the door. He should be back by now. Just as the thought crossed your mind, the door swung open.

"Did you need something?" you asked, your book dipping down in your lap. 

Logan raised an eyebrow at you as he walked into the office on heavy steps, that damn cigar hanging out the side of his mouth. "Nice to see you too, princess," he poked jokingly, tugging at his gloves, one finger at a time, and tucking them into his leather belt. 

He sported the same outfit he usually wore; bootcut jeans, a white t-shirt under his flannel and a thicker wool-lined jacket. He must've been sweating in here with that on.

Autumn had claimed the trees and ground months ago, but this morning the frost had covered the ground and bit at the apples of your cheeks. Your breath had come out in swirling plumes when you'd locked yourself in this morning; the first glints of the sun peeking through the windows as it rose over the mountains. The first thing you'd done was crank the heater, and now as you approached midday, you'd shed your sweater long ago while the windows had fogged with condensation. 

The smallest of frowns tugged at your brows, as a heat prickled up your neck to your cheeks. Logan made you a little nervous– not in a bad way, but in a way where your thoughts would wander in his presence, conjuring up scenarios of him and yourself in… comprising positions. Okay, maybe it was in a bad way. But who could blame you when he walked around like that?

He'd arrived only a few months ago, at the tail end of the summer, looking for work. He was strong, stronger than any of the other men working for your father, and although the work was hard, it seemed like he never tired. You didn't know much about him and he kept mostly to himself, hidden away in a cabin up in the mountain, but sometimes you'd see him down at the local bar, nursing a glass of whiskey in one hand and a lit cigar in the other. More than once you'd seen him chatting up Kayla Silverfox, and more than once you'd wished it was you in her place.

"Oof," Logan groaned as he opened the fridge, grabbing his packed lunch and closing it as fast as he could. You appreciated him for that; whatever had died in there should stay in there.

"Yeah," you said, "I'm not cleaning that again, not even for a million bucks."

"Can't blame ya." 

He looked to the table for a second where the guys usually ate their lunches, before he decided to take your usual chair at your father's desk. As he sat down, you pushed the ash tray to his side of the desk, earning you a short smile in thanks as he rested his cigar. It wasn't unusual for him to talk to you on his breaks. 

So, why did you heart beat so fast in your chest?

Because it was the first time you'd been alone.

"So, where's your old man?" he asked and bit into the sandwich he'd packed in an old newspaper.

"Running errands– he should be back soon…" you trailed off.

Logan hummed non-committedly. "So, you're in here sittin' pretty readin' your book while we're out in the cold slavin' away– maybe I should become the boss' daughter."

"Well, it's not easy," you sighed, feigning confidence, "and you gotta be pretty first of all," you front teeth dug into your bottom lip as you tried to hide your nervousness.

"That's true," he grinned, "I ain't got nothin' on you, princess."

Logan held your gaze with intent, and it was like something in the air shifted. It happened sometimes with Logan, like he had this power beaming from him that sucked you in. Erratic wings fluttered in your stomach, and you had to drop your gaze.

"So, how's the book?" he asked, taking another bite of his sandwich.

"Eh," you shrugged, dog-earing the page your were on, before throwing the beat-up paperback on the table. "Too many plot twists– first they're on earth, then there's this virus spreading– so they have to move all of humanity to the moon, but then there's this species that lives under the surface of the moon who they start a war with, but one of the main characters are in love with a moonie– that's what they call them– so, now they're in love and trying to stop the war and…" you shrugged again.

Logan chewed slowly as he nodded his head. "Sounds complicated," he decided, making you let out a small laugh.

"I guess so."

A grin washed over Logan's face at your small laugh, and you felt his gaze roll over you, over your exposed skin. When he looked at you like that, like a predator drooling for a meal, you felt a small damp spot stick to your panties. You watched as his nostrils widened, his jaw clenching shut as a pulsing vein protruded from his neck.

"So, science fiction," he started, clearing his throat, "Didn't know you liked that," he continued between the last bites of his sandwich

"Some kid at the library recommended it," you shrugged, "so I thought I'd try it out. And it's not like it's that far from the truth– we've got mutants."

Logan crumbled the newspaper hard and quick, the sharp sound making you jump. "Yeah," he said, and stood to his feet, "That's true."

He grabbed his burnt out cigar, and threw the ball of newspaper in the trash. You started to wonder if you'd said something wrong, but then he said, "Your father's back," and not even a second later you could see your dad's old truck pull up outside the window.

How did he even know that? 

"Logan– wait," the words just fell out of your mouth before you could even think them through. He hovered by the door, raising a questioning eyebrow at you. 

You could be brave– Just say it! 

"Come by later would you? Before you leave for the day– I have something for you."

A gush of cold air blew in with the arrival of your father. He almost crashed right into Logan on his way out, nearly knocking him down the wooden steps. You thought you could glimpse a small nod from Logan, but he was out the door so fast you couldn't be sure. 

The rest of the day went by slowly as a growing anxiety gnawed at your neck. With your dad back you slipped out to borrow the car, driving into town to pick up some lunch at the local diner. It was routine at this point, something you did without thinking, but today your thoughts couldn't stay still. You were pulling up outside the office when you realized you'd driven the whole way with the radio off.

What was even your plan? 

You wished you were better at this. You could pretend, sure, put on a brave face to hide the nerves from surfacing, but how do you get a man like that to go for a girl like you?

You felt non the wiser when the sun had dipped below the mountains and he finally knocked on the office door. Your dad had left thirty-minutes earlier, stranding you at work with no way to get home. 

If this didn't go well, you didn't look forward to walking home.

"What 's it you wanted, princess," Logan asked, leaning against the frame of the door with one knee popped. Your eyes couldn't help but run down the length of him – his broad shoulders, the bulge hidden below his big belt buckle, and the veins of his exposed arms as he slung his jacket over his shoulder.

"Oh, um," you tried to shake your thoughts, and you rummaged the desk for the envelope. "Here," you said as you found it, stretching your hand out for him to take it.

He pushed off the door frame with a raised eyebrow, the cold air from the open door taking with it the warmth of the office. "What's this?" he questioned, taking the envelope from your hand. 

"It's your check– for this month's work," you explained.

His raised eyebrow pulled into a frown, "This is a week early," he questioned, "and I usually get these sent in the mail."

"Oh, I-I just thought I'd give it to you personally this time," you lied, fitting a shrug at the end for good measure, trying to sell how completely normal and nonchalant you were.

Logan raised a skeptic eyebrow at you, and you suddenly felt really really stupid. In your chest your heart could compete with a hummingbird's.

"Really?" he said with a smile before he dropped his chin, "Can I appreciate a little extra something in here, or…?" he trailed off, waving the envelope.

Letting out a shaky inaudible breath, you tried in your flirtiest voice, "Maybe if you give me a ride home…"

...................

The lights from the town below looked like stars scattered over the night sky, the yellow light of the roads connected them like on a string. You knew that Logan knew where you lived; the town was small, and even with the short time he'd spent here, it wasn't hard to get familiar. He'd stopped at the lookout point, about half-way up the mountain road. It was nice in the daytime, with a nice view of the town, the mountain and rivers, but at night it attracted a different kind of crowd: lovers. It was cheesy, and cliché, but clichés were clichés for a reason. 

The Led Zeppelin tape whirled, and the music stopped. 

Suddenly you felt nervous, fingers picking at a loose tread on your sweater. Logan leaned forward to flip the cassette, and his truck filled with a sound of organ, like you were back in church. When he leaned back he slung his arm over your seat. You watched how he spread his legs, getting comfortable, as his eyes found your face.

Under the wool, your heart picked up its beat.

In a brave move you shifted closer, the leather seat moaning under you, as a pleased smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. His big palm snaked around your shoulder, curling you closer to him until his lips caught your own. You only hesitated for a second before your hand found his neck, where your fingers tugged lightly at the hair at the nape of his neck. 

A low growl huffed against your lips, and he deepened the kiss, pressing himself roughly against you as he licked into your mouth. You couldn't help the small whimper escaping you. His touch was rough, almost impatient, but tender all at the same time, and you felt yourself fall apart.

The air stuck to your skin, clammy and sticky with arousal and now you started to get impatient. With a loud smack you broke apart, your lips raw and spent from use as you caught your breath. A rough hand cupped your cheek, the pad of his thumb skated gently over your skin as he tilted your head towards him.

"Such a pretty little thing," he mused. His eyes had gone dark, pupils huge and filled with lust; yours must've looked about the same as they rolled down his body. He shifted closer to you, pushing you closer to the door, and you got a better view of the bulge hidden behind his jeans.

Your heartbeat pounded in your ears, clogging up the sounds around you like you were underwater, pushing at your thoughts at the back of your mind. Logan moved with such ease, each touch natural and easy, like he'd done them a thousand times. Not like you, with only your short-lived high school boyfriend under your belt. 

"Hey," he shook your head gently, "Where you goin', bub?"

"I'm sorry," you whispered, a heat coating the apples of your cheeks. 

He shook his head, his face surprisingly tender for someone so rough, "Tell me, baby."

"I'm just…" you trailed of, trying to find your words, "I'm a little nervous– I haven't done this much," you said, avoiding his gaze.

"That's sweet, bub." The pad of his thumb rubbed the pet name into your skin as he leaned forward to catch your lips in a soft kiss, "But I wouldn't worry that pretty little head of yours 'bout it."

His breath was hot against your own, and an ache started to spread between your legs. The hand on your cheek travelled downwards to tug at your jacket, and you parted only for a second to rid yourself of it, but before you could lock your lips with his again he grabbed at your hands.

"I'll teach ya," he told you and guided your hands to his broad form. 

He let you touch him as he shucked off his jacket, your fingers dancing over the soft flannel. He was solid beneath your fingers, hard muscles from hard work. A patch of dark hair curled at his chest, peeking out beneath his white shirt, and you found yourself wondering where it lead.

Curling his hand around your wrist, he guided your hand lower; down over his chest where you could feel the solid form of him. His bronze belt buckle burned you like ice, but the heat of him as he pressed your hand to the hard bulge beneath the buckle burned even brighter.

"You feel that?" He looked you straight in the eyes. He pressed your hand down harder and you could feel the shape of him against your hand, hard and thick, and big. You barely managed a nod through the wave of heat coating your cheeks. 

"That's because of you, princess." His voice was low, almost like a growl, as he started to guide your hand to rub over the thick length.

"Me?" you questioned, breathless. 

"Yes, you," he chuckled, a heavy hand petting at your head. "D'you want to take it out? Stroke it f'me?"

"Please," you begged, looking at him with moony eyes through your lashes.

"So polite f'me," he mused, his hands tugging at his belt before he popped the button on his jeans. Slipping off your shoes, you crawled up into the seat, sitting back on your knees as you watched him pull at his jeans. Peeking out from under the denim, you could see a dark patch of hair.

Logan was in no rush, revealing only an inch at a time of the base of his cock, making a show of it as the tension rose. A wave of tickling arousal washed over you, and it made you brave, reaching a trembling hand forward, you helped him tug at the fabric.

At last his cock sprung free.

You felt your eyes widen at the sight, as you involuntarily squeezed your thighs together. Even with your limited experience, you knew he was bigger than most. The thick length of his cock bobbed from the weight, hanging heavy between his legs. At the tip of his fat head, a drop of precum pearled, almost invisible in the dark truck. 

"Come here, bub." He widened his legs as he reached out a strong arm for you, curling you into his shoulder. 

"Put your hand on it," he ordered, "like this," he grabbed at your wrist and guided you hand towards his mouth. You let him move you around, eyes blown out and wide as you couldn't take your eyes off his impressive cock. 

A wet blob of spit pulled you from your thoughts, it drew the slightest frown over your face until he guided your palm, now coated in his spit, to his cock.

Under your palm his skin was silky soft, but hard and firm at the same time. You found yourself mesmerized at the sight of your hand around him as you familiarized yourself with the heaviness of him in your hand. 

"There ya go–" he cut himself off with a groan as you formed a fist around the head of him. Your fingers struggled to reach around him, but it didn't seem like Logan minded much when you moved downwards smearing his spit over his shaft in an experimental tug. 

"That's it, good girl, just like that."

A warmth bloomed in your chest at the praise, wrapping itself around your heart. You wanted him to say it again– to be good for him. So, you reached forward with your other hand, wrapping it around the base as the other formed a fist around the head. Another pearl of precum beaded at the tip, and you took the opportunity to skate your thumb over it, massaging it into his spit.

A growl seemed to get caught in Logan's throat, and still riding off your high that the praise had sown in you, you started to pump his cock in slow strokes. A slick sound escaped under your fists with each stroke, and you watched how his head fell back in pleasure.

"Am-am I doing it right?" you asked, voice barely above a whisper.

At the sound of your voice, Logan sat up straighter, a heavy hand falling over your back to pull you closer. "You're a natural, princess."  

You couldn't contain the smile from coating your lips as he brought you in for another searing kiss. It was hot, and suffocating, and all-consuming, all at the same time. It clouded your mind, and you forgot what your hands were supposed to be doing. 

Logan's hand travelled down your body, his big palm grabbing at your ass. "Take of your pants," he ordered against your lips, "Panties too," underlining his order with a couple of light slaps to the flesh.

Shuffling out of his hold, you fingered at the button of your pants, pulling at them and your panties as quickly as you could. Goosebumps prickled over your exposed skin, the air suddenly frosty without Logan's touch – but that didn't last long.

The calloused pads of his fingers trailed up your thighs, pressing down into the flesh as he pulled you closer to him. "Come sit in my lap, princess."

He didn't wait for you to move, instead he manhandled you how he wanted. Spreading his legs wide apart he fit you between his legs, your back pressed against his hot chest with his hard and leaking cock caged against your ass. 

"I'm gonna touch you now, baby, okay?" his deep voice whispered in your ear.

"Okay," you peeped, heart pounding in your ears at this new proximity. 

He spread your legs, putting your wet and neglected cunt on display, hooking them over his knees. When his palms danced over your inner thighs, you felt yourself sink deeper into his chest, deeper into the safe scent of pine and man. 

"Need to get you ready f'me, bub– stretch this tight cunt out for my big cock," he cooed.

You ached for him, a sticky wet feeling between your legs as you wished so badly for him to finally touch you. His touch was light, but teasing, drawing circles along the thin flesh, circling closer and closer to where you needed his touch the most, before he pulled away. 

"Please," you whined, grabbing at his arm.

His breath felt hot against your neck, and you could feel the grin he pressed against your skin. He let you guide him upwards to hover his large palm over your mound, but he wouldn't let you have it. Instead, he pushed at your sweater. His hand spread across the skin beneath your belly button as prickled goosebumps followed the rough pads as they ran across your skin.

"Y'gonna feel me right here, bub?" he teased, "So deep inside your tummy?"

A whine caught in your throat and you felt like an exposed nerve. Arousal pulsated throughout your body, threatening to pull you apart unless he did something soon. Your neglected cunt dripped with an ache only he could sooth. 

"Yes, please, Logan," you whined, tears threatening to spill.

His thick beard scraped against your cheek, and you almost trembled from anticipation as he slid his hands downwards. He raked his fingers through the curls of your mound, and a gasp fell from your lips when he finally pushed at your clit.

A wide smile reached across your face when he started to circle his fingers, tight with the perfect amount of pressure. Your hips bucked to meet his touch, your cunt eager and dripping for more of him. His other arm clasped around your middle, keeping your still and steady in his lap as he had his way with you.

A bold finger dipped lower, running through your folds and teasing at you entrance. A slick sound filled the car as he played with your cunt, circling his fingers around your hole, dipping a teasing finger inside you just to the first knuckle, before withdrawing it just as quickly. 

"Such a messy pussy," Logan murmured in your ear, the deep bass of his voice vibrating into your skin. "Listen."

The sound as he played with your pussy was obscene, lewd, and so dirty you felt a heat crawl up your chest. A breathy gasp escaped you when he finally split you on his finger, and a satisfied smile coated your lips as he started to move it inside in a steady rhythm, prodding every so often at that spongy spot inside, the spot your own finger couldn't reach.

"F-feels s-so good," you managed to stutter out. 

The heel of his palm pressed against your clit with every thrust, teasing at your insides and conjuring moan after breathy moan from your lips. He guided you closer and closer to the edge, and you wanted so badly to fall. When he pulled out to slide another finger inside you, you felt a tear roll down your cheek with satisfaction.

"I can feel that pussy clenching me– you close, bub?" he poked, never stopping his fingers.

Your head rolled back, resting heavy on his shoulder as you nodded franticly, mouth parted slightly, humming out small breathy whines. You were so close, the tension in your stomach twisting and aching for release.

But then he pulled his fingers, dragging them up over your mound leaving a wet trail in your curls. You couldn't help the disappointed sigh as more tears pressed their way down your cheeks.

"Shh," he hushed you, "you're okay, bub." 

Under you, you felt him move, his strong muscles flexing as he shifted you on his lap. When you felt the blunt head of his cock slide between your folds, an eagerness came upon you. You grinded against him, making a small chuckle rumble from his chest. Logan slapped his heavy cock against your folds, coating his big cock in your slick arousal. 

The first stretch of him knocked the breath right out of you, the fat tip of him splitting you in half as he helped you guide yourself down on him. You had to remember to breathe, your hand fumbling for something to hold on to. 

"Fuck," you whimpered, eyes wide, "I-it's so big– it's t-too big."

His hand wrapped around your middle held you in place, keeping you still on his cock as you adjusted to the first inches of him inside you. 

"It's not too big, princess, you're doing so well f'me," he praised, "just a little more, bub– you can do it."

With a wet whimper you lowered yourself, taking a couple more inches of him, as Logan pressed more fluttering praise into your skin. He let you take your time, easing yourself down on him at your own pace. When your thighs were finally flushed with his, he was so deep inside you, you jolted, trying to move back up, but Logan's hands held you down. You felt him in your tummy, like he'd said, his cock reaching so deep you were shaking.

"Sit still, get used to it," he told you, as you tried to catch your breath, "You're being so good f'me."

And somehow the burning stretch of him soothed away into a pleasurable pressure, one you couldn't help but chase. With an experimental rock of your hips, you felt the fat head of him prod at your spot, making you mewl. And when you started to swivel your hips, Logan groaned in satisfaction, meeting your movement with small thrusts.

Slowly, he picked up his rhythm, strong hands shifted to dig into your hips, holding you in place for him to move you as he wished. In your ear, you heard him growl, deep and animalistic as he fucked up into you.

It didn't take long until your breath came out fast between moans as the pressure built, and built, and built. 

"Logan," you moaned, tethering right on the edge.

Another growl escaped his chest, as his strong arms hooked under your legs. He pressed them tightly to your body as he picked up his pace, bucking wildly into your eager cunt. You could feel him throb inside of you, and you couldn't help but clench at the thought of feeling him spill inside you, claiming you.

"Don't stop, please, don't stop," you begged, tears streaming down your face like two winding rivers, "I-I'm gonna come."

A hand slid between your legs to rub at your puffy clit, coaxing you closer and closer with winding circles. 

"Come on my cock, baby, come all over that big cock."

It was hot, and blinding. Euphoric shocks pulsed through your body, as you fluttered and gushed around his cock. Logan's grip on your legs tightened as you shook violently with your orgasm – a million stars exploded behind your eyes.

"Oh, that's it, bub, such a good girl," he praised between heavy wet pants against your ear.    

Fucking you through your ecstasy, Logan chased his own high at a relentless pace, and all you could do was take it, reduced to a ragdoll in his hands. In your ear he muttered nonsense interlaced with praise, telling you how good you felt, and how perfect you were for him.

With a deep groan he pulled out quickly, tugging at himself until he spilled his thick spend on the truck floor. With bleary eyes you watched how it pumped in quick spurts, dripping down his hand and soiled the knuckles in his own sticky cum. 

Behind you, Logan breathed hard, nudging his nose against the column of your neck to press soft kisses to the hot skin. 

A pair of bright headlights beamed down the road, pulling you from the moment with its blinding light. Logan helped you shift off his lap, reaching to hand you your discarded clothes before he tucked himself back into his jeans. 

The cassette whirled in the car radio, and you couldn't remember when the music had stopped. Logan shifted back behind the wheel and an eerie silence grew in the distance between you.

"How 'bout I take you somewhere to eat?" he posed.

You smiled, "I could eat."

...................

hopefully this was okay? a comment telling me your favorite part is always welcome, and my ask box is always open to chat <3 and thank you for reading!!

© shellshocklove, 2024 i do not give any permission to repost, translate, feed to AI or redistribute any of my writing, with or without credit!

[greenunoreversecard]

HEYYEYHEY CAN I REQUEST LLOYD (ninjago) HEADCANONS PLEASEEEE (ty :3)

A/N: Ofc!I'll do general character ones, as well as x reader ones :) hope ye likey likey:pp

Lloyd, The Greenest and Geekest mf.

General character headcanons:

Half Japanese half Chinese

His hair is box blonde dye and you cannot change my mind.

Left handed

Severely dyslexic and hands off all scroll reading and just reading oriented tasks to kai.

Def gen z vibes. Like, the others give off more inbetween z and millenial, so they dont always get his humor. And sometimes he uses that to his advantage and "Speaks in code" (uses as much slang as possible)

Has LED lights in his room set to forest green.

Has given himself a smiley face tattoo.

Cried over a dead goose once.

OK, just to preface i see cole as a stoner of Sorts and uses the excuse "it gets me closer to my element"

With that in mind cole let lloyd try it and now sometimes when he is told to unwind, of feels like he needs to take a chill pill he and Cole spark up

in the beginning of his leader ship role, he used to Say;"kick ass and take names" and if things went wrong he had the fuck it we ball mindset, but got better with time. There are still times they wing it, though.

if he isnt in his gi he almost exclusively wears his pajamas (aka a Hoodie, tshirt and sweats)

Vv tired, and now has a raging addiction to energy drinks due to his lack of Sleep.

He used to eat worms as a kid bc he Thought he it was evil.

Has a eyebrow piercing, and wants a tongue piercing.

Wears "reading" glasses, that he should technically wear all the time because he can't see up close and has a astigmatism,, but he says yolo. Zane then make him contacts after he almost ran into a moving blade and got his head severed.

Adhd and OCD, as well as the normal line up (anxiety, depression, cptsd)

Lloyd in a relationship:

Hes very distant in the beginning, it'll take time to warm up to you.

He tends to be orage cat vibes.

On the cat trend, he gets close for a bit Before becoming distant. Going through waves of affection, kinda.

He hasn't had like, any good relationships in his life so he tries to "protect" himself when he feels he gets to close to you, and so he pulls away.

He does the fuckboy face when your sad bc it makes you laugh, as well as That weird dice roll

He actually does the face/dice roll combo whenever he Sees you as he walks over, it's an inside joke now

primary giving love language: acts of service and quality time

Primary receiving love language: gifts and words of affirmation. But physical touch is also high up there.

Also, not expensive gifts. He hates those. Give him a stick you saw on a walk that made you think of him. He'll cherish it forever. And maybe cry.

He will cry.

will make noises at you and expects a noise in response or he'll be sad.

Also randomly bites you. He's a nommer

also sends you memes throughout the day.

As well as random pictures with the caption;"BABY LOK THIS IS S. US IF WE WHERE *insert whatever item here*

Called you babe, baby, love, shitface, asshole.

Expect kind and loving gentle bullying.

Doesnt know how to express his emotions to just expect him to come up to you, lightly shake your shoulders and aggressively say;"I love you bitch.i ain't Evea gon stop lovin you. Bitchhhhhhh" (vine reference)

Sends you .5 of everyone, himself included. He's addicted to Taking them. You will not get out of it.

Also sometimes just walks around in nyas stilettos for fun.

You two have fashion shows.

You also take over the Living room sometimes and build giant ass forts to watch shitty reality tv in and make fun oF The people

Overall, once he realizes you won't leave he's the most funniest loving chaotic guy.

But expect it to take a hot minute for him to realsie this

give him time,, but also have some deep talks..

Let him vent

and for the love of God don't hurt the baby's heart.

Expect inside jokes

[captain-n-crunchies]

My Zuzu!

Izuku Midoriya x Reader

Let talk about how Izuku would be the perfect boyfriend in the history of boyfriends. Like forgot Bakugo tough but soft love and Kirishima gym rat love and look at how Zuku is like total boyfriend material!

-- Izuku who when he first discovers your pretty face quickly asks you about your quirk and backstory even how you got your hero suit designed! Writing everything you say with a quickness, but he doesn't even notice himself writing notes about your appearance like how your lip pucker when in thought, your eyes simmer when you talk about your favorite thing about your hero design, and how quickly your face animates itself to a new emotion every few sentences. After meeting him he makes a huge effort to get to know you besides your quirk and heroic morals he wants to know everything about you even things about your parents (he used those facts for when you start dating)

-- Izuku after months of being your friend fighting alongside you and you tending to some of his scars he starts to have more unfriendly thoughts about, and no not any freaky stuff more of he hates how you laugh at every flirty joke Denki makes or how he love that you fuss over him and his recklessness he just eats up every new hairstyle you get, every new shoe, new dress he just hasss to complement you making you smiles at him so hard he blushes under that gaze you give him. Too bad it took practically a whole pregnancy for him to confess!

-- Izuku would when makes dates makes sure he gets everything perfect from a small date to a cafe he gets you a tiny allmight keychain as a momentum, dates at the aquarium? a jellyfish plushie is in your arms by the end of shark's exhibit, a concert for the two of you favorite band? Oh, baby got a favor from Bakugo to get you their new album. He makes sure any cuddle dates are so cozy and warm so you can't leave his arms; with pillow forts and fresh popcorn and a cute Disney movie with his strong arms around you warming you up nicely. Izuku who covers you up in his bed is you fall asleep fist and gets one of his allmight plushie and places it in your arms

-- Izuku who is always touching you doesn't matter if it's your leg on his thigh or his hand holding your pinky, he just needs to touch you if you're going to be close to him but what about far away? He has a whole keychain of allmight that everyone knows is his and he attaches it onto your bag and boom now everyone even your teachers know your " Zuzu Baby"

-- Speaking of Zuzu baby, he loves pet names and since his name Izuku has about fifty names in it you choose ' Zuzu' which when you first called him it he face reddens a bit since you always gotta call him babe or baby he naturally registers his name to be Zuzu. He's a boy who doesn't care if his friends hear you call him this name because you call him it out of love and he can't ask for more, I mean your his baby what the need to go getting mad because you didn't call him Midoriya he doesn't even call you by your real name you baby, pretty boy/girl, beautiful, pretty, anything he could think of that remind him of your called it

-- Now even though he's soft he ain't no punk he just doesn't really get bothered by mean commets anymore (he was quirkless majority of his childhood this dude got more thick skin than Bakugo) he just laughs awkwardly and when alone he talks all his shit

" And Bakugo gonna call me useless!?"

" Nooo baby why you didn't say nothing?"

" He got kidnapped and nobody wanted to save him but Kiri! I would be pissed everyday too"

" Omg! Izu stop!"

-- Like Zuzu is messy also he was a quite kid y'all so when you thought he wasn't listening HE WAS, and since your if s/o then bookie he is talking so much shit and gossip with you to the point you look at him differently like where did my softy go? He just said he would whoop Todoroki's ass if he called him a mutt

" Baby really?"

" It'll take a while but I could!"

" Shoto? The fire and ice combo package?? You could whoop his ass?"

" If I was called a mutt! He'll have two scars"

Yea... he talks too much but, he gonna back it up especially if it was about you. He cares about your mental a lot so if you ever tell him you're feeling a bit down simply because a hoe talking shit, he got 508 Instagram accounts to troll them, and you'll never know

-- Izuku who is only a boy so sometimes that cute miniskirt gets the gears in his head turning, in his room right behind the hero journal he got a little book filled with drawings of you so detailed it almost creepy, a small page of you drawn in many lewd styles. Every make out session you feel hi hand twitch trying to stop himself from touching our hips or to fondle your chest when you cuddle

-- Izuku who when the time is right will show you, he isn't just Zuzu baby all the time his mind evreytime you change clothes wondering what will happen if he takes a peek at your naked form?

-- 'That'll never happen though, Izuku is too much of a sweetheart to be a perv right?' You think looking at him scribble in his book today you're in his room studying, you ask to see his book and he blushes shaking his head and hides the page from. After a few minutes he gets up to go to the bathroom now your chance!

Getting up from your spot you take a peek at the page and it just a drawing of you listening to music from earlier with cute love notes along the side, smiling you hide the page again not looking at the page behind it with you drawn with your tits out glistening in the sun.

We love Zuzu!

[smolmousepotato]

Tw: ooc, Boothill x fem!reader, tavern, bad writing ig, cringey i think

Midnight tavern

"What's a pretty lil' thing like ya doin' here eh?"

You can feel a warm waft of air trail the side of your neck as a figure corners you from behind. The night is still young.

You came to this tavern in hopes of drowning the day's fatigue with alcohol, with or without fun, you couldn't care less. But the relieving is a must.

Alone, you sit on a stool by the counter with your usual drink: a blueberry martini.

Your senses can't help but relish in the way the berries and vodka blend and soothe the raging storm within your soul. Everything is washed away, bit by bit along with each sip. By the end of the night, you'd expect a cleansed mood, free of annoyance and exhaust.

But this random guy who had been staring at you from across the counter might just create some more stress for you.

You were talking to the bartender when he rose from your peripheral vision. His tall form caught your attention. You notice the mechanical details on his body and the way he showed them off in a flashingly bold way.

The rim of his hat was overshadowing the half of his face. Gruffly, you see him approach.

The bartender left you with it, being occupied with another client.

And so that leads to you, being pressed against a wall by the man whose name you barely know.

He speaks to you in a low, rough voice with a thick Southern accent, towering his form over you. Chills were sent down your spine, and the alcohol in your system did the effect worse.

It felt hot. Amidst the crowd of the tavern, he traps you in one place, breathing heavily down your neck.

"Tell me."

"Just... for a little relief..." you reply with a quiet voice, looking away from his intense gaze.

"Mm, why do pretty lil' dolls like you need relief eh?"

"Personal stuff. Is it necessary for you to be this nosy?" You grumble, a little annoyed by the close proximity between you two.

"Hm, why, it ain't my business at all, in fact," the man leans back a little, noticing your annoyance. He chuckles, "I was just a lil' curious 'bout this pretty doll right here, so feisty ain't ya?"

"Not your business."

"Of course it ain't, cutie."

"What?"

"What? Got any problems 'bout that nickname I give?"

"Yeah. I don't even know you, and you're throwing nicknames at me."

"Aight, the name's Boothill. Pleasure to know your beautiful name?"

"Why should I even tell you..."

Afterwards, he eventually got your name. He grins and presses a brief little flirty kiss on your lips.

"See ya later, darlin'~"

You wouldn't think of a day you'd see someone's dignity missing like that.

He awaits you the next day you return, flirtatiously gazing at you. You can see him tip his hat.

Day after day, he'd be there, in the same spot you'd found him in since the first day, tipping his hat a little and grinning.

One day you step in to find his absence. A routine image, now you can't help but feel a little empty inside.

You take your seat, order your usual and chillax.

You sigh. Perhaps that flirt was entertaining after all.

Drink after drink, you venture forth beyond your forte, intoxicating yourself by midnight, when the tavern lessens its people.

That is when a certain man walks in, all bloody and staggering. He had a duel with another outlaw and took a bullet in the arm. The blood was the other's.

He sees you, limping over the counter, probably passed out cold. A closer distance; he smells alcohol and a mixed scent of multiple berries.

With a chuckle, he asks the bartender for some bandage and wraps his "wound" up.

His eyes wander back to where you sat, his heart swell with a need to wrap his arms around your form and pick you up.

But that'd be weird if he does, right?

So he tries his best to ignore it and acts casual, walking past you like nothing happened.

——

But she wasn't fully asleep. She can pick up the metallic scent of blood from where she sits, and it alerts her from her slumber.

His steps come to a halt when he felt a light force tugging at his arm. He turns around, a smile gracing his lips.

She, a small little thing who picked up the sense of danger and decided to be awake, though a tad bit sleepy.

"Well, what's this huh?" He chuckles, "clingy all out of a sudden?"

He can hear little grumbles from her, signifying her unclear annoyance towards him.

"Tell me, doll," he swoops in, his arms on the counter, trapping her from above, "would you?"

"Hah?"

"Would you care... if I walk in... this bloody?"

"I mean who doesn't? You look like you were dying."

"Yeaaaah, but still, that's just a side question. Here's the real one dollie, answer it honestly."

"50-50. Depends."

"Stop that."

He leans closer, his lips about to touch the shell of her ear when he whispers, "miss me?"

That sent shivers down her spine, making her weak in the knees and blank in the mind. That caused her heart to race like it's never before.

That makes her realize that she craves his presence.

"No." She spats, feigning annoyance.

———

You hear him chuckle.

"Y'know liars don't get to live so long."

"I wasn't lying."

"Sure thing, hun."

His hand grasps at her chin, pulling it upwards so that her head leans back. Those grey, unique eyes gaze into hers in a certain way that stirs up the butterflies in the pit of your stomach.

"Mmmh... what a sweet lil' thing, ain't ya?"

A pause of silence, where he looks into your eyes and solidifies you with all those feelings.

"Consent?"

"What?"

"A kiss?"

You look hesitantly at him, but your body has a mind of its own to decide on what must be done. Your hand wanders to the collar of his shirt, gripping it and pulling it down until his lips press against yours.

There was a slight halt in his breathing, as his eyes widened and his lips slightly agaped. But that was a brief moment before he dived right in, carrying passion with his kiss.

Your lips lock in a palpable passion, where your hands grip the back of his head and his hand rubs your body all over.

He chuckles as the kiss breaks. His hand grabs you by the collar and yanks you away from the stool.

"Get down 'ere, you sly lil' minx."

The alcohol in your system exposes you to being a little staggering, and an extra bit of flirtatiousness.

You grin, looking up from your height, into his eyes. There was affection and amusement in those eyes.

And then your lips collide in an intense kiss, once again. His arm wraps itself around your waist and tightens, pulling your body into his, and encouraging you to hold onto him.

So your hands do. They grasp onto his shirt, trying to pull him closer.

His hands then snake themselves under your body and pick you up, carrying you to the inn next to the tavern.

———

And then behind doors, each and every one of their kisses further lightens up the passion that has been suppressed within their hearts in fear of rejection. But now they both accept one another's feelings and are already in the same bed, it's clear that the passion blooms into lust and whatever comes afterward.

Perhaps the cowboy has found his place where he belongs, and so has she.

[gaywizardemporium]

I just want everyone to know I'm a lazy fucker and not a linguist so I absolutely will not be making up a conlang for my setting.

Oh it has languages n shit but I'm not spelling out how they work. I will not be making an alphabet or syllabary or pictographs or anything like that. I ain't smashing together syllables and praying I'm not naming a place some variety of slur in Basque, and you don't have to either.

I take the real world/Pokémon/One Piece approach to place-names: Springfield. Cerulean City. Gecko Island. Take an animal, color, metal, gem, natural feature, whatever and then append what kind of place it is. You absolutely do not need to make up words to make a place seem real.

You can also name places after people, which lots of places are. That then can help you create an aspect of your world's history. Who lives in Kreig's Run? Who's Kreig? Is that a family name? Where does the run lead? Is it referring to a literal event in which Krieg delivered something important over a long distance or just a long strip of land?

Also, picking a theme using real words works too. Again this is the Pokémon approach. Maybe all your locales are named for colors and now naming places is easy! Scarlet Cliffs. Indigo City. Aubergine Fort.

This is of course advice for writing in English but I imagine it works in other languages.

Anyway don't stress yourself out thinking you have to make up fantasy words. You don't! Hope this helps. (no really I hope this helps)

[bradshawssugarbaby]

Under The Stars and Stripes - One (Capt. Syverson x OFC)

a/n: look at your girl coming up with two multiparters at once!!! i wanted to write something sweet for capt. syverson (who moving forward, i have named luke, fyi), and my partner sort of suggested this (i mean, kinda, he thought it was what i was writing - turns out he was wrong but gave me a v good idea).

pairing: Capt. Syverson x Joanna Blake (OFC)

warnings/content: injuries, medical discussions, age gap (38 + 26), mentions of military service, inaccurate descriptions of physical therapy + military life.

word count: 1.9k

The unforgiving glare of the overhead lights in the medical center cast a harsh radiance over the waiting room. Luke's cerulean blue eyes squinted against the artificial glow in the room, his gaze wandering in search of anything remotely captivating. Opposite him, an infographic poster touted the virtues of physical activity and mental health, a message that seemed incongruous with the knee brace he begrudgingly wore. The irony of contemplating jogging or hitting the gym while nursing a wounded knee did not escape him.

"Luke Syverson?"

He swiveled his head in response to the melodic call of his name. In the doorway stood a woman, her blonde hair secured with a claw clip, a clipboard balanced gracefully in her hand. A warm, friendly smile adorned her heart-shaped face. With a half-hearted wave, Luke acknowledged her.

"Present and accounted for, ma'am."

Internally, he winced at the self-consciousness his response provoked. Rising to his feet, Luke attempted to distribute his weight favorably, minimizing the strain on his compromised leg. A sharp pang shot through his knee, confined by the rigid embrace of the brace. Collecting his crutches, he navigated his way toward the young woman, focusing on maintaining a semblance of grace. The crutches, tools of mobility he had resisted vehemently at home, now betrayed his struggle.

As he drew closer, Luke observed that she was notably younger than he, the realization of his own impending forties sinking in. Her olive-green eyes sparkled, framed by honey-colored strands that cascaded like molten gold. A sun-kissed radiance illuminated her complexion as she beamed at him.

"I'm Joanna. I'll be your physiotherapist moving forward. Let's head to the exam room; we can go over the paperwork together."

Her voice possessed a cheerfulness that could rival a weather reporter or red carpet interviewer. Luke nodded in understanding, trailing behind her as they entered the room. The once sterile lighting had mellowed, casting a more agreeable ambiance.

The examination room emanated professionalism, each piece of equipment meticulously arranged, and charts displayed with precision. Joanna gestured toward the examination table, indicating for Luke to take a seat. Settling into a chair nearby, she balanced the clipboard on her lap.

"Alright, Captain Syverson, let's delve into the paperwork and gain a betterunderstanding of your situation, ok?" Joanna initiated, her focus shifting to the documents before her. 

“Let’s start with the basics, full name and date of birth?”

“Right,” Luke began, “"Full name's Luke Everett Syverson, ma'am. Ain't much use for the middle one, but it's there. I was born April 15, 1968, ma'am, interrupted my ma’s Easter dinner. Home base is Fort Bragg, North Carolina, hence why I’m here in Durham. Otherwise woulda’ probably gone to the centre in Tennessee, closer to where I’m from and all..” 

“You know, I never use my middle name much either, but, just in case there’s two Luke Syversons in the armed forces, gotta include it to make sure I’ve got the right one.,” Joanna nodded her head, humming as she jotted down her notes.

The room embraced a quiet tension as Luke settled onto the examination table, his eyes following Joanna's movements with a mix of curiosity and wariness. The dimmed lighting cast a softer glow, alleviating the clinical starkness of the surroundings. Joanna, her gaze focused on the paperwork, began with a series of routine questions about the nature of Luke's injury.

"So, Luke," she started, her tone gentle yet professional, "tell me about when the injury occurred, and how has the journey been since then?"

Luke took a moment, his gaze drifting to a framed landscape photo on the wall. The distant mountains seemed to echo the weight of his thoughts. "Iraq. Torn ACL," he said, sparing the details but acknowledging the source of his struggle. "Routine patrol, turned into anything but routine."

Joanna nodded, recognizing the understated weight in his words. "I see. That's a significant injury. And you had surgery to correct it?"

Luke shifted his weight uncomfortably on the exam table, nodding his head. “Sure did, m’am, three days ago. Still hurts somethin’ fierce, but I guess that’s what I’m here for.”

He sighed, his focus on the knee brace that had become both a literal and symbolic constraint. 

“To be completely honest with ya, m’am, I just wanna get back on my feet so I can figure out what to do with my life now, you know?”

She nodded, understanding the complex emotions wrapped around his military service and the path to recovery. "Recovery and returning to civilian life is a process, Luke. We'll take it one step at a time. Do you have any idea what you’d like to end up doing in future?”

“I haven’t really thought about it. Never went to college, so a lot of stuff’s off the table now. Plus, I’m getting old. Not sure where that leaves me either. Thought about maybe becoming a police officer or an EMT, you know? I wanted to do that when I was a kid, but then joined the military on my 18th birthday instead.”

Joanna smiled warmly as she made a couple of notes on her paperwork, before continuing to further establish the details of Luke's history, the conversation shifting to one about his daily struggles and the impact the knee surgery had on his life. With each exchange, a bridge of understanding formed between them, an unspoken alliance forged in the pursuit of healing.

In those moments, Joanna glimpsed the man behind the military façade. Luke rarely dwelled on his time overseas, focusing instead on the immediate goal: shedding the brace and moving forward. The physical therapy sessions ahead were not merely about mending a knee; they were about reclaiming a life after two decades of military service.

As the examination progressed, Joanna outlined a personalized rehabilitation plan, detailing exercises and strategies to rebuild strength and mobility. The room, once filled with tension, now held a promise of progress and recovery.

"Alright, Luke," Joanna said, concluding their discussion, "we something to start with at least. Let's work together to get you back on your feet."

With the paperwork completed, the clipboard now resting on the desk, Joanna moved seamlessly into the practical aspect of Luke's rehabilitation. She began guiding him through a series of light exercises designed to gradually rebuild some of the strength in his knee that he’d lost. The atmosphere in the room shifted from contemplative to purposeful as Joanna demonstrated each movement with precision, her instructions clear and encouraging. 

Luke, though initially reserved, found himself following her lead, a quiet determination in his eyes. As they progressed through the exercises, Joanna observed the subtle signs of discomfort and adjusted the routine accordingly, ensuring that the session struck the delicate balance between challenge and progress. The room resonated with the rhythmic hum of therapeutic effort, a shared endeavor toward a future where the weight of the brace would be a distant memory. As the session neared its end, Joanna offered a reassuring smile.

"Great work today, Luke. We'll take it step by step, and before you know it, you'll be moving freely again."

“Thanks m’am, I appreciate it,” Luke replied, a soft smile forming on his lips.

“It’s what I’m here for,” Joanna nodded as she held the door open for him in an effort to make it easier to exit as he hopped on his crutches, “And Luke? I wanna hear that you’ve been using the crutches at home as well, or you’ll just injure your knee further.”

“Yes, m’am,” He chuckled, shaking his head as he made his way out of the clinic.

Later that night, Luke settled into the worn-out couch in his living room, the dim light casting a soft glow across the room. He dialed his younger brother Travis’ number, the anticipation of sharing his day evident in the subtle smile that played on his lips.

After a couple of rings, Travis’ voice came through the phone, lively and teasing.

“Well, well, if it ain't the elusive older brother himself. What's new, Luke?"

"Not much, just had my first therapy session today,” Luke chuckled softly as he took a bite out of his slice of pizza. 

"Therapy? Never thought I'd see the day, Luke. What's the world coming to?"

"It's for the knee, not my sanity, Travis."

"Alright, alright. So, how'd it go, Captain?"

"Surprisingly good, actually. The therapist, Joanna, she's something else. Got me doing all these exercises. Says I'll be back to hiking those Arkansas woods in no time."

“Joanna, huh? Luke, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you have a little bit of a thing for her. Florence Nightingale effect?"

"You watch too many movies, and besides, idiot, that’s when the therapist falls for the patient. Ain’t gonna happen. She's just good at her job, makes me feel less uncomfortable, I s’pose."

"Sure, sure. So, what's the verdict? She cute? Should I tell the kids they’ve got a new aunt?"

"You'll be waiting a long time for that. But seriously, it felt good, productive. And, she asked me about what I wanna do now. Got me thinkin’ about my options."

"Really? Did she smell the smoke? Set off a fire alarm?"

“Funny. I’m thinkin’ maybe becoming an EMT, you know? Can still help people, use my military training, just…stayin’ stateside and less sand.”

“You did always have a thing for helping people, I’ll give you that. Now, about Joanna…”

“Travis, forget it.”

“I’m just saying, Ma’s 60th birthday is coming up, and you know you’re in for a grillin’ about when you’re giving her grandbabies.”

“She has two already,” Luke protested, laughing as he took another slice from the box of pizza, “Besides,” he said with his mouthful, “I don’t know if I even want kids at this point. I’d be dead by the time they had kids”

“Well, if they take after you, maybe. I had kids at a reasonable age.”

“I s’pose, how are they anyway? Bet ya Hannah’s grown like a bad weed since I saw her last, and Maddie? She was knee-high to a grasshopper last time I saw her.”

“They’re good. Maddie’s almost 5 now, gettin’ quite feisty, like her mama, and Hannah’s taken up cheerleadin’, now I gotta become well-versed in making perfect pigtails in her hair if her mother’s busy with the little one.”

“Better you than me, Trav. Don’t think I could figure out how to do those tiny lil elastics.”

As Luke engaged in a heartfelt conversation with his brother, the echoes of family life stirred a contemplation of his own future. The tales of parenthood shared by his brother left a lingering thought.

 Did he, despite his usual reserved nature, harbour a desire for a family of his own? 

Love and romance had often found him awkward and uncertain, but when it came to showering affection on his nieces, those barriers melted away effortlessly. His musings naturally gravitated towards Joanna, her radiant smile replaying in his mind, illuminating the corners of his apartment like a beacon. 

The playful teasing from Travis planted an idea in his mind, one he never expected to be considering, which prompted Luke to consider whether there might be something extraordinary about his connection with Joanna.

Setting the cordless phone down on the table beside the couch, he sighed heavily, the weight of his newfound solitude settling in as he savored a third slice of pizza. His eyes roamed around the room, the empty expanse of his apartment feeling almost suffocating. The hush of the house, disrupted only by the dull roar of football highlights on the TV, intensified the solitude. In that moment, amidst the quietude, the prospect of companionship and a shared future became a lingering ember in Luke's thoughts.

[opheliajupiter99]

Once Upon a Rapture Pt. 6

Neon lights glowed and shimmered against the towering glass windows of Fort Frolic, signs plastered all over, crowds clustered around store displays of cigars, the clunk and chimes of slot machines ringing from the casino. The Fort was alive, and it was glorious.

One especially lively area was Eve's Garden, the cornerstone of the sin of Lust within the city - well, beyond the Pink Pearl, anyway. The music blared from speakers as lights illuminated the stage, an especially acrobatic redhead in a purple and black saloon girl outfit swinging about to the roars of the gathered crowd.

The bar counter was particularly crowded, though even the most inebriated of the patrons kept their distance from the very end of the bar. At said end was a tall, monstrous looking man, covered from head to toe in a thick coat of brown fur, his limbs so unnaturally long he had to curl up to sit properly at the counter. He was staring at an empty seat right next to him, having a full-blown conversation with seemingly no one, hence everyone's hesitation to be near him.

To be him, however, the seat was indeed occupied. A beautiful woman named Clementine sat in this seat, her legs crossed, offering him a warm, loving smile. One of the only people that'd ever been kind to him, cut down by his very own hands - but of course, his brain couldn't accept that, so here she was, both alive, and in love with him.

"Having fun, sugar?" She said cheerfully, beaming that lovely smile once more. Torbek nodded, beaming a crooked smile of his own. "Uh huh! Torbek likes the booooze heeeere." He turns his gaze towards the barkeep, who recoils a bit, but straightens quickly, doing his best to keep his composure. He'd seen a lot of shit, no doubt about that, but -this- guy? He huffed, shaking his head. "Yeah, yeah...I'll uh, get another one goin'." The bartender wanted to cut him off at this point, he was clearly wigged out enough as is. But quite frankly, he was scared of what might happen if he did.

Meanwhile, in the theater, a certain conman and his crazed companion had tracked down a lead to the Fort. Supposedly, the serial killer that had been stalking Gricko was last seen here. The lead didn't go much farther beyond that, but he knew somebody that -would- know more than that. As they ascended the steps towards the dressing rooms, Frost lagged a bit behind Kremy, hugging himself tightly as if to comfort himself.

"What's up?" Kremy said, glancing over his shoulder before looking forward again. Frost took deep, shaking breaths. "I...I feel like my g-grip on my sanity grows loser with e-each breath I take..." He looked down at the steps as he kept ascending the stairs, his weathered face gaining a look of despair. "...W-What if Gricko...d-doesn't even recognize me w-when we find him?" Kremy stopped in his steps, hands grasping and ungrasping the head of his cane.

He sighed heavily. "To be honest with ya fella? If what I think happened went down...then he wouldn't recognize ya either way." He said grimly. Frost stood there, silent for a moment, then shivered, tears forming in the corners of his eyes; it didn't help, but it wasn't really meant to. It was a horrific truth, but a truth, nonetheless. Finally, they reached the dressing rooms, one in particular, the name 'Sander Cohen' emblazed in gold above the door.

Kremy wrapped his knuckles against the door, muffled classical music audible behind it. "Show's not for hours, darling." Came a gentle, dramatic voice. "Ain't about the show, Sander. We're to talk about somebody that came down here." There was a pause, somehow the silence was worse than the madman's own voice, the pair waiting in tense anticipation. There was a soft click, as one of the locks was undone, the door opening a crack, a chain bolt still attached keeping it mostly closed.

Out peeked a wide, crazed, curious eye, surrounded by a painted face, staring out at the pair. The eye immediately focused on Frost, staring at the disheveled, frail man intently. Kremy cleared his throat, giving his best showman smile. "Good evenin' to ya, Mr. Cohen. I'm sorry to interrupt ya while ya gettin' ready but, I've heard bout some dealin's goin' on with somebody that was last seen runnin' around down here." The artist didn't hear a single word the conman said, much too focused on the untapped potential of the man stood beside him.

Suddenly the door flew open, and Cohen excitedly reached forward, grabbing Frost's shoulders and pulling him inside. The door began to swing closed, but Kremy caught it with his foot just in time, rushing into the room. "What the fuck fella?" The artist didn't even bother to glance at the conman, holding a frazzled and confused Frost close, getting his face uncomfortably close to his and look him over intently. "Ah....yes." He said, his voice practically shivering with joy. "What a good kitty..." He said, letting go of his shoulders to move towards the wardrobe, flinging it open. "Hey now, sir, he ain't a damn-" Kremy began, but the artist offered merely a dismissive wave over his shoulder as he rummaged through the wardrobe's contents.

Finally, he retrieved what he was looking for; a masquerade mask, styled to look like a tiger, with long curled whiskers and fanciful gold trimmings. He turned back to Frost, who was too baffled to do much beyond stare in this moment and placed the mask over his face. He stood back, looking Frost over as if he was a sculpture, then let out a shaky, joyful sigh. "Yes...perfect." Kremy crossed his arms, huffing. He didn't wanna rock the boat too much with this fella; not just cause he ran this place but cause of some of the stories he'd heard about the crazy fuck.

"Ya done?" He said, Cohen finally bothering to acknowledge him as his gazed turned towards him. He huffed. "An artist's work is never done; but I've paused, for the time. Now what is it you keep rambling about?" Kremy huffed. "I wanna know about one of the folks in this place, damnit!" He said, too impatient to try and be polite at this point. Cohen huffed in return, wiping his head in a dramatic fashion and holding up a hand. "I do not speak of my kin, -sir-" he said with venom, crossing his arms. "Whose kingdom do you think you stand in? Utterly -repulsive- manners." He said with a wave of his hand, looking back to Frost. His smile quickly returned.

"You may go now; you've run your mouth more than enough. But your friend...he may stay." He said, resting his elbow in his hand and holding his cheek in the other. Kremy's brow furrowed. "Nobody's stayin' no place. Look, ya ain't gonna tell me nothin'? Fine; but the fella's stayin' with me." Frost smiled weakly, though the smile faded upon seeing Cohen's expression change. The look of artistic euphoria changed to one of intense disdain as his head slowly turned to stare at Kremy, his painted face contorting to one of almost child-like tantrums.

"I WILL TAKE NO ONE'S ADVICE BUT MY OWN!" He shrieked, waving his hands as flames began to gather in his palms, shooting them forward towards Kremy too fast for him to react, throwing him backwards and catching his coat alight, falling onto his side beyond the threshold of the doorway. As he swatted at his coat in a panic, trying to snuff out the flames, the dressing room door slammed harshly.

"No! Fuck!" He scrambled towards the doorway, managing to snuff out the flames on his now badly signed purple coat, smacking the door open, to find red, fleshy particles gently floating down to the floor where the two had been, clearly indicating the man had already Houdini'd away with Frost in tow.

"FUCK! Fuck, fuck, FUCK!" Kremy shouted, kicking the side of a nearby vanity mirror and falling on his rear upon the ground. He put his head in his hands, fighting the urge to sob. He didn't know the guy too well, but now - he was well and truly alone.

(@rapture-record-blog @charlesclockmaker)

//Also art of Splicer Frost

[mi-lady-kiiira]

💍Selfship with my handsome prince, Izuru Kira💍

dividers by the lovely @/hitobaby

💎Headcanons:

His Nicknames for Me:

"Bluebell" - Because I have the same name as his captain and he would die if anyone ever thought that he was referring to Otoribashi when he's speaking about me

"Sweetheart, Love, Angel, Darling" - his usual terms of endearment for me

"My Muse" - Zu says that I give him inspiration for a lot of his poems; it's so sweet when he keeps shooting me little glances from his writing desk while I lounge on the futon. I MUST get up and give him kisses.

"Princess" - He is my prince and I am his princess, it shall be no other way

"Stop, damnit" - This is not a term of endearment, but he says it so often and casually that you'd think that it was

My Nicknames for Him:

"Zu, Zuzu, Zuru"- Basically just shortened versions of his name

"Handsome" - Because he is very much so💙

"FAT DICK ZU" - He acts like he doesn't like it, but I can see through his lies with my Kidō. He also blushes everytime I say it but has explicitly told me not to call him that in front of other people :(

"Prince Zu, King of My Heart" - I know it is a contradiction, leave me alone

Daily Life Headcanons (SFW):

I pack his lunch every morning and slip in little notes with love affirmations and words of encouragement to help him navigate throughout his day

He puts short poems and haiku that he's written for me in my lunches. Also leaves poems in random places around the house for me to find.

On many occasions, he has snuck into my office while I'm in meetings or on errands and left cute little notes on my computer (along with some snack - I need snack)

He started making our evening tea solely by himself because I was fucking it up everytime. (I do not know how to brew tea) I also can't reach the tea set on the top shelf, but that's probably a good thing because I have butterfingers

Since Rose started tying his hair with ribbons, I brush his hair and tie his ribbons in for him in the mornings. He has to have one in every color, because I need color coordination (inspired by this fanart from Pinterest - not mine!)

If my bonnet slips off while I'm sleeping, he'll fix it quietly while trying not to wake me up (I ain't waking up, I sleep like a rock)

Sometimes we both forget where we put our glasses and just walk around like two blind bats, running into stuff (and each other) until we find them. Zu wears contacts as well (that somehow make his eyes look even brighter 🥹💙)

He loves listening to music together (he has one of those old school iPod nanos in blue and refuses to upgrade to anything newer - inspired by this post (that I can't find atm, rip)

He knows when I'm starting to get anxious/have a panic attack because I will start pacing and wringing my hands. To calm me down, he will come up and hug me from behind, gently take my hands into his, and help me do breathing exercises.

When he gets into a downtrodden mood, I can tell immediately because he's 10X quieter and his eyes lose a little of their sheen. I will cancel all of my meetings for the day, get us food, and hole us up in our bedroom in our secret blanket fort. No leaving the fort unless for bathroom. Endless cuddles and affirmations.

🔥NSFW Headcanons:

His kinks: shibari, thigh-fucking, edging, overstimulation, head-crushing (receiving), hair-pulling (both), oral (giving)

Favorite positions: missionary, cowgirl, against the wall, spooning/side

Does he prefer giving or receiving: giving

He is a switch/soft!dom

Is he a tease? ABSOLUTELY FUCKING YES.

Does he like being teased? Yes, but not too much and for too long. He likes to get things started fairly quickly when 'he's' on the receiving end of the teasing.

Praise or degradation?: A mixture of both, with more praise

When he's fed up with my shenanigans or I've been teasing him too much, he makes me kneel before him on the tatami mat in our room. His hand is on the back of my neck, holding my face away from him while he strokes his hard cock.

"You've been acting like a naughty girl all day today, bluebell. Do you think that I should give you my cock? Hmm, I don't think so." (he's soooooo mean💙🫶🏽)

We both have quietly discussed our interest of having a threesome with Shuuhei but are both too INCREDIBLY shy to bring it up to him.

It is imperative that I start my day out with a cumshot in my coffee. Can't make it throughout my day in the Seireitei without Izuru's protein shake. Yum.

He actually indulges me, surprisingly. Not without his entire body turning red as he strokes himself into my specimen jar. He's such a peach.

I've asked him to wrap Wabisuke around my neck a couple of times (The answer was 'no' each and every time, btw :(

Has a HUGE freaky side. He tries to act all prim and proper, but he loves fucking in the office just as much as I do (all screen caps from 'Kira's Captain' by @shadowsnlace - AMAZING READ, and requested by ME 😌Highly recommended, especially if you're an Izuru girlie🩵💙*permission to post granted*)

💍Authority kink??🤭⇣

📸:

💍"A full head taller than you", good gracious 😮‍💨

💍He loves the visual of me sucking him off with my glasses on ⇣

📸:

💍More authority kink⇣

📸:

----

That's it for now! I have a playlist planned out that will be listed under '💍ballroom' on my pinned post.

Please let me know your thoughts in the comments!🫶

@enchantedforest-network

[survivalist-anon]

Log 13: Concerning Wolves

Sitting in Jame's office is a strange mix between having a candid conversation with an older friend and being in trouble I'm the principal's office.

"Young lady, I trust you know that you're about to embark on a rather tumultuous experience right?", his drawl was a bit more serious than usual. "This ain't like the movies where you know how things will turn out either.....things can go so far down south right into hell now that the Astartes are involved."

Remembering what had happened the night before, the circumstances of Grandpa's murder, and what I've seen, I had no excuses to ignore the dangers. "Yeah, I can see...... listen if it's about Jeff....and Fjord tossing the patrol car, he was trying to protect me. I didn't ask him to throw the car at Jeff a-", Jame's eyebrows arched up.

"He did what?", apparently he hadn't been told about that.

"Fuk. Well anyway....Jeff pulled his gun on me thinking I was someone trying to attack on him or something and Fjord reacted to protect. He was just doing his duty.", I could tell James was already going to reiterate the responsibility. A heavy sigh slide through his lips once more.

"It's ok, however Fjord's going to have to be kept on a tight leash and control himself around folks or he's gonna have to stay home. Do you understand me?", his tone felt like there was something else underneath.

"Ok...I understand sir....also....how....long you've known about all of this?", I ask only of curiosity...if he wasn't willing to tell me than that fine too.

James relaxed his seriousness and mellowed abit, taking out a photo album. "They've been here far longer than I have kid, in fact Aldercon was my great grandfather's Astartes. Way back when folks had come here for free land. He told me that Aldercon had come from the sky, landed squarely in the heart of the Wyoming wilderness. He was shellshocked, covered head to toe in blood and dirt....I remember stories of my grandfather and Aldercon, as wild as the tales of Paul Bunyan and Babe. The two had become folk legends out in the ol' West."

He opened the book to show me the first page, it was a collection of aged, photos from the late 1800's. One of the pictures was of Jame's grandfather, he really did come from an American lineage of cowboys. He was far more rugged than James however... I glanced at the tall, stockier man in a much more humble looking uniform, same black fist on his pauldron too. "Holy shit, this can't be him...for one he's smiling, and second, I thought -", I could see James giving me a look that said 'but you didn't '.

I could see a tiny difference between him from this photo and now. I can tell his hair was darker, I can definitely see that thousand yard stare of a man who's seen war, and his armor was slightly different from the Marines back at the fort.

James turned the page, this was one was a genuine surprise. "Even your great grandfather, had one.", next to him was a man fresh off the boat from Eastern Europe, my Great grandfather, dad for some reason or another was reluctant to tell me his real name...he kept calling him "Big George", after the Butcher Boy George from Hungarian folk lore. Then right next to him, probably helped bag a rather ominous looking bear, was Sten. That white stripe on his head wasn't present, he didn't change as much as Aldercon. This picture was even more older than James's granddad's photo.

"You see Lorey, they've been around for a while now....lord knows for how long though.". He began to reminisce about the past.

The implications of these Marines having been around is giving my inner history buff a massive concern. "Well....it would be extremely stupid to try to bargain the fact I thought they joking, but I'm starting to see...I take it this will be more complicated?".

He looks up at me, "Yes ... because just like with basic folks like us, there are bad folks....that big black one your grandpa wasn't lucky with....is one of them...there seems to be at least five or so kinds out there based on my sources.....one of them is out there right now reeking havoc near highly populated campsites..... Aldercon told me Sten and Toke will be in disposed of for the next week.... meanwhile have Fjord keep a sharp nose out for that one...it's the fastest I've seen of these ones....I'm not too familiar with the either...so I'm giving you a very special assignment. I need you to put your research training to go use."

He handed me a small leather bound journal.

"Keep track of them, now....let's go have some grub.", he gets up from his chair and pats my shoulder.

I sat there feeling something complex in me, I'm....going to catalog them? I open the journal and I SWEAR James has been screwing with me at least to this point....this journal aestheticly looked a DnD character sheet of it focused on identifying and profiling. I place it in my inner jacket pocket. "What the shit....", I still wasn't too sure of my role in all of this....I could understand why now.

I'm just part of a lineage of....marine handlers? I don't know.....

As I leave the room, I see the Fjord was getting a lesson in paper football from one of the volunteers.

James takes the desk bell and rings it to call the attention of everyone in the center. "Ladies, Gentlemen and folks. I would like to make an announcement, as of now. Be on high alert for any unusual activity. Anything and everything in regards to disappearances of livestock and or people, property damage of unexplained or unusual nature, and any purported sightings of creatures of unknown origin...I.e...NOT BIG FOOT.... We'll have to be reported to me, Lorey and Ronnie for the time being.

I figured Ronnie also got the information, I look at him and he was a little more on edge than I was.

Fjord, definitely knew what this whole deal was about.

With a ringing of the doorbell to the nursery, Shelly has brought in some new little guests.

"Oh guys come and see! The babies are opening their eyes!", Shelly, Ronnie and I have been researching the local wolf packs in the area and monitoring their behavior. One of the females under our care have recently gave birth a few days ago.

I check in the box as Shelly laid it on the table, 5 beautiful cubs. In their state, they're roughly two to three weeks old. As helpless as human babies. "Fjord, would you like to see them?"

He was a little curious, he walked over to see the five cubs. ".... they're so....small.... they're...just wee little things...".

I could see he was trying to piece together something....not certain what, but from my perspective he was wonder struck.

As the cubs peeped and whimpered, as all cubs do, one has just opened it's eyes. Showing a pair of smokey blue irises. Than, Fjord did something I wasn't expecting him to do. He gently placed his hand next to one of the cubs. "... interesting...."

"Oh careful please, they're fragile little ones.", Shelly had all the right to worry. These may have been wild animals, but even young wild animals need to be treated carefully.

His finger alone dwarfed the cub, he was so still and so focused. By this point I completely lost in what could he be possibly thinking. A little cub wiggled right on top of his finger, using it as a heated pillow.

Fjord, let out a soft but eerily convincing howl, low enough that it could be considered an indoor voice, but it was very real. All the cubs let out their first howls, right there, all with varying skill and ability. But every single one had howled for the first time in their lives.

The room was quite, understandably, this was extremely weird for everyone.

Anderson decided to break the moment, "ugh...yeah I'd like to report something.".

"Anderson hush.", James to the rescue. "Fjord seems to understand these pups pretty well.

Shelly was mesmerized, "Oh my gosh, they all just did that at the same time. In all my years here, I have never seen something so amazing before."

I kept looking at Fjord, if I could read minds, this would be a great time to use it.

After a few hours of everyone enjoying their food, drink and few games. I sat with Fjord in the back of the room.

I sipped the last of my ginger ale, I still couldn't get his expression out of my mind. "Fjord. That thing you did with the howl ....can...you explain that to me?"

He sat there, lips wrapped around a rib bone. "Oh, that....it just...why are yeh wolves so small? I mean, I seen some out there in the forest and yonder ....I'm use to the wolves back home. Ferocious and mighty beasts, equivalent to Astartes! Strong enough to bare us and ride into battle. The cubs from thosd wolves are just a wee bit smaller than your fully grown ones. They're born with their teeth already out. These ones.... they're.... just wee bairns...".

I still didn't really get it. "Ugh, you mean...you're confused on why they're small.....?", I ask.

He takes out the bone from his mouth, "I mean....why do they remind me of mortal children? Small, helpless.... fragile...".

The tone he took had felt familiar, it was the same tone I used when my expectations would be challenged. "Wait...are you telling me you're disappointed by our wolves?", I satirically question him.

"No lass, it's just.....they remind me of....well....me... before I became an Astartes. The wee one ....it had blue eyes....I ....use to have the same eyes.", that last comment took me a little to figure out he was actually feeling.

It was self reflection. I just gave this guy a massive 'thing' to think about.

"well, all wolf pups have blue eyes when they're born, than as they grow, they change colors... mostly to yellow, amber or green.", looked to the room watching everyone enjoying themselves.

I suddenly felt him gently pull the side of my jaw, making me face him directly.

"Interesting....you have green eyes.", he bluntly stated.

I could feel my heart pounding by this point, we just both intensely looked into each other's eyes. I didn't know what it was, but something about the way he kept looking at me, just burning into my soul, felt strange...yet I liked it...it wasn't human either....

"ugh....this feels a little bit....um.", I didn't want to be mean about the situation by calling it 'cheesy' or 'corny'.

"----Hey you guys want t-", Jonas broke the tension for the both of us. "oooooh you two were?", she gave a cheeky grin.

"Jonas! You scared me.", again I had no idea what to say but hey it was something.

Fjord snapped out of his stare and looked to Jonas, "oh hey lass, to do what?"

Jonas chuckled a little, "it's almost time to close up the station and let the night crew in. We're heading down to the bar tonight actually. Why don't you bring your kegs too, Franky doesn't mind it."

I had completely forgotten about those two kegs, if Fjord sticks to the. He could save me a little of money.

"Ah I could use a drink, I've been parched for some for a little while lass.", he looks to me as a way of asking for approval by this point.

"ok fine.", I lean in to whisper in his ear. "Please behave yourself, Aldercon's orders."

He looks at me was a smoldering look, leans into my ear, "I'll do my best.".

I have no idea why, but the way he whispered into my ear shot the best feeling in the pit of my being.

End of log 13

@kit-williams @barn-anon @egrets-not-regrets

@gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan @walking-natural-disaster

@squishyowl

@starfrost740

[tarmac-rat]

OC Interview: Riley

Tagged by @glitchinginthegarden and @seraphfighter. You can read their respective entries here and here

Roleplaying prompts like these are very much not my forte, so I tried my best. And I also might've borrowed Glitch's idea and inserted Johnny into the dialogue as well, just to keep the conversation...organic.

Tagging @clusterfxckedbysirens @ghostoffuturespast @butchsquatch @luvwich and @seeker-of-truth and y'all have probably already done this but I need to get better at tagging people and it's my own fault for being late lol

Note: This recording was recovered from a trash can after presumably being discarded by the interviewer

Name?

V: "V." Interviewer: "Oh, um...like, just the letter?" V: "No."

Nickname?

V: "...V." Interviewer: "*clearly flustered* So you, uh, you don't have a nickname, or--?" Johnny: "Not worth it, pal. You're lucky she's even givin' you this much." Interviewer: "But--" Johnny: "Trust me, choom, fishin' for the truth ain't worth it. Drop it while you still can."

Her full name is Riley Bakker Aldana the fifth. For all intents and purposes, "V" is both her nickname and a part of her full name, since it's a patronymic suffix. Since she comes from a long line of Riley Aldana's, V very rarely uses her actual first name and has never consistently gone by it-- she has always simply been "V" from birth. Johnny, of course, thinks this is the stupidest thing he's ever heard in his life.

Gender?

Johnny: "Ever since V was a child, she's always identified with what's between her legs--" V: "Where are you going with this?" Johnny: "--a cunt." V: *Lets out a long sigh*

Star sign?

V: "Is this an actual interview or is this the second round of sorority rush?" Johnny: "Don't be fuckin' rude. She's a Scorpio, like me." V: "Wait wait wait, I know, like, one thing for sure about star signs, and it's that you and I don't have the same one." Johnny: "Your birthday's less than a month after mine." V: "That's not how zodiac signs work." Johnny: "Look it up, then, if you're so confident." V: "Fine. Just, one sec," *Pulls out phone, types something, types another thing, types another thing* "I'm a..." *types another thing* "...Pisces."

Riley is a Sagittarius

Height?

Johnny: "Five foot nine even. Five foot eight and a half if she's standing on one leg." V: "'Bout sums it up."

Riley's cybernetic right leg is roughly a quarter to a half inch shorter than her organic left leg, so she's got a bit of a weird gait and tends to favor her right side more than her left in fights. She'll eventually get it fixed, but she then spends a few months walking around like a newborn deer tripping over nothing as a result.

Orientation?

V: "'I guess 'bi' is the term I'd throw out there for it, but honestly, dating and managing a love life are the last things on my mind these days. Not like I don't have time, I just don't think settling down's in the cards for me yet. But in terms of preference, though, I don't really lean any which way." Johnny: "So basically, 'people hot'."

Nationality/ethnicity?

V: *laughs slightly* "I don't think I'm technically an NUSA citizen since I spent the first twenty-two years of my life in a car, so I don't know if I technically have a 'nationality' in the literal sense. Ethnicity-wise, most if not all of my mom's side of the family is Diné, so that's easy enough. My dad's side is the question mark. Never met the guy, and my mom never talked about him."

Riley's maternal side of the family is Navajo-- her great-grandfather grew up in Kayenta, AZ, and many founding members of the Bakkers were people from there and the surrounding areas who felt it safer to go westward during the Collapse. Conversely, Riley's father Felix is a smuggler who had a brief fling with her mother Ivy when the Bakkers were camped near the NM/Mexico border in 2052 (and post-Unification War now operates around Fort Hancock, TX). Felix is Mexican-Apache, and blissfully unaware that he has a daughter running around 25 years later fucking up shit in Night City.

Favorite fruit?

V: "I...don't know if I've ever actually eaten a real piece of fruit in my life." Johnny: "You're fucking with me." V: "What!?" Johnny: "Fuckin' hell, we're havin' a conversation after this. Just pick a fruit flavor, and move on. Any of 'em." V: "I, uh, um..." *places hands on her hips, sighs, goes silent* "Green apple, then, I don't know."

Favorite season?

V: "Well, summers in the desert were unbearable, and winters in the desert were boring as all sin, so I guess one of the middle seasons? If I had to pick one, I'd probably pick spring-- the places in the Sonora we used to stay at in the springtime were always pretty nice."

Favorite flower?

V: "Mexican Gold Poppies." Johnny: "Oh, what, you have a favorite flower but you don't have a favorite fruit!?"

Riley likes gold/yellow things despite it not really being in her color scheme. While she likes Gold Poppies, the flower I generally associate her with is a Black-eyed Susan, which are symbols of justice and survival.

Coffee, tea, or hot chocolate?

V: "Depends, but I generally lean towards coffee." Interviewer: "With anything?" V: "Synmilk." Johnny: "And whiskey." V: "Only on Sundays."

Average hours of sleep?

Johnny: "*snorts* Go on, V. Tell 'em 'bout your thoroughly robust and well-kept sleep schedule." V: "I sleep!" Johnny: "Sure, when you get knocked the hell out or fuckin' flatline on me. *to the interviewer* Two hours a night, average." V: "It's more than that! Stop being dramatic." Johnny: "And when she does fuckin' crash, because y'know she will, she's out for a day plus. It'll be like livin' with a corpse. I could host a music festival in that apartment and she prolly wouldn't even roll over to check the time."

Exaggeration aside, Riley will get around 3-5 hours of sleep a night-- combination of restlessness and preferring to work nights. After about 2 weeks of doing that, her body will basically say "NO MORE" and shut down for a day or two to recover.

Dog or cat person?

V: "Cat." Johnny: "Liar." V: "What?" Johnny: "It's horses." V: "Johnny!"

Dream trip?

V: "Not sure. Always used to hear nice things about Australia-- maybe there, I guess? Or maybe Morocco, or Rome? Somewhere warm and dry. And definitely not on the water."

Favorite fictional character?

Johnny: "Let me tell you a little story about a guy from Seattle and the acid trip he had while staring at a pack of Camel cigarettes--" V: "Nope, not even close." Johnny: "Oh, my deepest apologies, princess, were you going to come up with a better answer from the wealth of popular media you consume on a daily basis?" V: "...Fair enough."

Johnny is referring to the book Still Life with Woodpecker by Tom Robbins, which is probably the only novel Riley's read in the last five years. She hates this book for its pretentiousness but since she rarely consumes pop culture as it is, it's really her only fallback when talking about fiction she's actually engaged with.

Number of blankets you sleep with?

V: "One tops, maybe? I tend to run hot. Maybe two in the winter if it's cold enough."

Fun fact?

V: "A fun fact." Johnny: "'Fun' fact, eh? Might be askin' too much of her there." Interviewer: "It can be anything. Your favorite color, what car you drive, how many times you've--" V: "I once helped smuggle the CFO of Asukaga & Finch and his lover over the Texas border after he embezzled 4.7 million dollars from them in 2071." Interviewer: "I, uh, you...what?" V: "I mean, he's probably dead now. What're you gonna do, arrest me?" Johnny: *Starts laughing*

[read-alert]

Soul Music by Terry Pratchett

One of my reading goals for 2025 is to start writing dedicated reviews, so here's my first one! Sorry that it's for a book in the middle of a giant series that I'm reading out of order.

This book follows two main plot threads. 1) Death has once again run off to try to emulate humanity and really feel something, and in his absence, the forces of the universe are pulling his granddaughter, Susan, into his role. New to the job and not yet fully grasping the rules, Susan decides that good people shouldn't die young and tries to save a young musician, which brings us to 2) Rock music comes to the city of Ankh-Morpork.

As is usual with Discworld, this book does an excellent job blending the humor, social commentary, and heartfelt earnestness that results in lovable characters. I absolutely understand why people love Susan so much, and I can't wait to see more of her. She's so much more charming and effective in her role than her father was, but speaking of her father, it's very noticeable just how similar this book was to Mort. I think it's an improvement, and I had way more fun with this one, but the fact remains that it does feel repetitive. And it doesn't help that this is third book in the Death subseries, and Death himself is still barely here. I love the character, but as I get further into his series, the more disappointed I get at how little of it he is in.

Also, the main theme of death being a fact of life and something that you have to both accept and yet still fight against to be human, is the third time we've done this. Again, I think it works better in this one, being tied both with Susan's personal grief over her parents and the concept of legacy in relation to art, but if this is all the Death series is going to be, I'm glad the next Discworld book I plan to read is a Witches book so I'm not just reading the same thing back to back to back. (Though of course, I do have to acknowledge that the actual publication order doesn't have the Death books one after another, so this element of my reading experience is my own fault.)

I don't have much to say about the music industry element. Yes, the anti-capitalist commentary mocking the industry itself for stripping away artistry to focus on money is well done, but that's not surprising for Pratchett. My main takeaway from it is how baffling I find the decision to write a satire about the music industry focused on rock music specifically, and not address the racism in the industry and how rock was pioneered by black and brown artists and whitewashed to hit the mainstream- especially with the heavy handed Elvis references when he's one of the main examples of that. Even more especially when this book was published in the mid 90s with all of the conversations about rap and hip hop "corrupting the youth."

There's a little bit there to work with, what with Buddy losing his accent and changing his name to fit the image of what the audience wants, but it's so much more subtle than Discworld usually does. Buddy's name is Buddy Holly for god's sake, subtly ain't the series' forte. And the band even has a dwarf and a troll, Pratchett's usual vehicle for Fantasy Racism. I'm not saying I want to hear a white, British man's takes on racism in the music industry, particularly given what I have heard about Interesting Times, but it's still unbelievable to me that you would choose to write about this topic and gloss over a huge element of it.

Some big ups and downs, but the ups were pretty great, and it's still Discworld, I'm gonna love it no matter what. 4⭐️

[applegameisprollytaken]

New pinned post!

Very important vent you shouldn't ignore

Vent numba 2! Yippee!

Datability/kinda intro master list

NEW WRITING CHALLENGE!!!!

BLOGS! (Like 90% of these are on hiatus)

@applegameisprollytaken: main blog. Send asks, memes, whatever. This is the jack of all trades

@appledoawrite: like it says on the tin, it's the writing blog. I have some stuff in the works.

@apples-do-an-au-too: the writing blog but for au stuff

@appledoamisc: for the things that don't fit into any particular blog but that I'm not also making a specific blog for

@the-fort-official: where you can talk to most of my characters, give or take a few

@evil-group-that-hates-the-fort: previous, but for villains. And also one redeemed creepypasta parody but mostly villains.

@the-forgotten-god-of-spite: the forgotten god of spite Eivel. Also innovation and friendship too.

@plushiemonstervoid: an eldritch being made of ink, tentacles, and eyes that makes magic plushies and junk.

@slime-boi-barbarian: a slimefolk femboy barbarian. Also wizard posting.

@themothtoyourflame: mothman! That's the gimmick!

@game-overkill: an entire timeline was wiped out but this guy survived. He probably saw you dying, dead, or running for your life.

@the-text-beekeeper: text doctor blog who is just a simp and thats the joke. All lore is purely coincidence. Trust me

@the-unfinished-doctor: previously known as the chicken doc, let's just say that the fort found him a replacement.

Allies, friends, compadres, mutuals, and the like.

If you ain't here, I probably forgot how to write your blog name

@magia-vexter @cow-stealin-gal @draco-the-chaos-quetzal @the-arcade-doctor @the-jester-doc @a-moths-privacy @slimylittlemaggot @f4y3w00d5 @aileaxthevoidien @snailmusic @butchhatred @luv-vivi @crimsondestroyer @n04h-a-1634

And many more.

Imma keep working on this lol. If the bits in purple are gone that means it's the finished product I guess

[bellybiologist]

TLDR: Verzi Need Money. Here Link for Helping Fill Money Bar with Money Juice. -Ko-fi -Commission form (Open again! Note the price increase!) -Patreon -Paypal.me

Okay! Verzi need money. So! Here's this.

This shitty meter here is just for a bit of transparency (Graphic design is NOT my passion), cuz people like to know where there money is going. This will fill up as with funds from my patreon (money I got this month is already there!), from commissions, and from any tips/extras given by kind souls in passing, and I need to hit these marks EVERY month for like… a year. (This is after fees and such of course, cuz god forbid we don't pay the middle-men their dues.)

I will update this thing as time passes so ya'll will know where I'm at. Reblogging/Sharing is welcome, encouraged, and greatly appreciated!

A bit of info for each section under the Readmore:

-Rent and Bills: The Most Important thing to Keep Verzi Kickin'! I pay half my apartment's now $1368 rent PLUS the utilities, which range from 100~200 bucks, splitting with my aunt who works 2 jobs to make sure she pays her half. Since my mom passed away from Pancreatic cancer in 2021, this has been rough since it used to be split 3 ways.

-Dental Costs: The face bone doctors want my money after drilling holes and pulling out the insides!! My face actually feels BETTER so i'm not as mad as I COULD be about this, but this needs to be paid for the next 12 months. (And they want MORE money to do a cleaning and I almost laughed. Like, no buddy you ain't getting 750 out of me when I don't even have a refrigerator.(See Below))

-Big Purchase+Credit Card bills: It wont pay off ALL my credit card debt, but it keeps me from falling behind. Since the passing of Michael and Fred (my microwave and refrigerator respectively) I need to make some big purchases so my kitchen functions. Michael has been successfully replaced by Mikaela, and we are still looking for Fred's replacement. Ms. Frida, the chest freezer who is literally older than I am (I am 33!!) and STILL functions is holding down the fort while we look for a refrigerator. We can live without a fridge thanks to her constant service, allowing us to keep frozens. Also, like, literally on the 30th of July, Monty the Monitor must've succumbed to heatstroke so i had to buy one of THOSE too for my computer setup. I will name all my appliances to cope.

-Extra+Taxes: Once we get here, I'm in the clear for the month's expenses! However!! Taxes are due in October. I DO NOT know how much that will be, and since the whole Covid relief thing that lessened business taxes ended last year, I MAY be paying for quite a bit!! Anything past this point will be prepping for Taxes AND forming a buffer for More Happenings (God forbid).

===== Rewards??? Rewards!! =====

I considered a Drive like other kink artists in these circles, but I don't like drives for several reasons and those reasons are why I've never done one in the past. Despite that, I STILL want to do something that at least feels like a reward or incentive for people keeping me Alive™, so I'm going to do some simple doodles/sketches, and possibly try to stream those doodles in my discord!

Every 100 bucks past the "Rent and Bills Paid" section (meaning at 900 dollars and onward), I will do a RANDOM drawing from any requests/suggestions from the pool made by people who threw some cash monies my way!

Suggestions can be sent in through Ko-fi messages, Paypal notes accompanying payments/donations/tips, and a Patreon-only post (they are always giving me money, so patrons have access by default!). Commissioners who send in the form can ALSO suggest something for the pool if they like! (there's a question on the form for it) Now, like all requests, it's ultimately up to my discretion on whether or not I will draw something, but I will still try to keep it random and let it be a roll of the dice (or a RNG app).

There is no minimum requirement either! So people throwing only $1 at me, buying only one Ko-fi, or dropping anything bigger are free to offer a suggestion. But please limit requests/suggestions to one entry per person.

Now, as to what these will and can be:

-It will be a simple lined sketch with one color or flat colors. Depends on how many need doing, how I'm feeling when I draw it and how complicated it is.

-It can be up to 2 characters, but they may be less refined compared to a single character one. They can be the same character in 2 different states, or 2 different characters interacting with each other.

-No private requests please! It will have to be something that can be publicly posted and that you're fine with being perceived by others.

-In terms of kinks/sizes/etc, it will be something that you'd normally see on this blog or for my work! Mileage may vary, but more extreme stuff that I'd normally avoid may be glossed over when I'm constructing the pools.

-Unlike commissions, these will not go through a WIP stage/be modified after the fact! They end up how they end up. If you wanna be nitpicky, please use this opportunity to order a full commission!

-You're allowed to suggest OCs as long as it's yours or its owner has given permission to draw them in the context I am known to put boys in!

[bawdybooster]

Uhhh-7 and 8 for the hypno halloween asks? (I couldn't ask from my sideblog Snakebonewitch)

No problem Witch! Anyways, let's get down to answering those questions.

7. What mind control spell would you want to be put on you? What's it called? What does it do?

Admittedly, this one's a bit difficult to answer since spellcasting ain't my forte.

Classic Mind Control is pretty fun, especially if there's body puppeteering involved. Being in control of another consciousness is interesting already, but amplifying that control to where you can directly influence their movements? There's a lot to chew on.

I do think there's a special place in my heart for Memory Alteration, which does what the name implies. Because with that, the "Mind Control" really becomes a game of 'Yes, And' with the thrall.

8. Which mythical creature would you most want to fuck/be fucked by? Applicable to Mind and/or body.

Up front, too many good options. There's Vampires, Werewolves, Mermaids/Sirens. Literally all choices are valid.

However, I would be betraying my own interests (and two OCs I've adopted/struggled to do stuff with) if I did not mention anything about Naga/Lamia.

They give great hugs. They give great massages. They've got hypnosis. They've got fangs. They love cuddling. They love music.

What's not to love about Snakefolk?