#send hole and pole

[fableprince]

Oh. It’s 5:30am and I’ve not slept. Thanks for keeping me horny tumblr and not letting me go to bed

[doubletrucks]

double checking the pdf im about to send to make sure the invoice i just scanned didn't magically turn into a full frontal nude image

[toxooz]

maybe im projecting but i feel like Ollie would have a FUCKING HUGE monstera plant in his house thats taking over his living room

[tallgh0st]

i feel like i’m missing moots selfies and og posts a lot so if you want to, submit posts for me to rb svp!

[benedictusantonius]

Have you ever sent a risqué message or picture to the wrong person?

far too often.

drink responsibly, kids.

ask me que-diddly-estions

[beansprean]

Support me on Patreon or send a tip on Kofi!

oh my god they're engaged to be engaged...

(also this is entirely separate from the izzyguana series fyi, but my god I have drawn their little island so many times by now)

(ID in alt and under cut)

ID: 1a. Wide shot of Stede and Ed's ramshackle house on a hill of long grass, a forested mountain sliding into the sea behind them as the sun peeks above the waves, painting them orange and yellow. Some work has been put into the house since they found it: the holes in the roof have been boarded over or covered with tarp, a rickety porch railing and staircase off the left side have been built on from scraps, oil lamps have been hung on each corner, and an addition on the right side is in progress, rocks stacked on the wood-slat roof and tarps hanging from unfinished walls. Planks of wood, tools, and fishing poles are leaned up against the porch, the path to the house has been cleared out and defined by stones and shells, and a wooden sign out front has the words "Best Little Inn By The Sea! +fishing equipment" carved into it. Stede and Ed, wearing a teal blouse with brown leather trousers and purple tee with black leather trousers respectively, are standing on the porch and looking out over the land, arms around each others waist. Stede raises his arm in a wave and shouts, "Great to see you two! Come again any time!" In the foreground, Pete and Lucius are walking down the path away from the house, looking tired. Pete has one arm around Lucius's shoulders and his eyes are closed, head listing to the side. Lucius covers his mouth as he yawns, lifting the other to throw a halfhearted wave over his shoulder. 1b. Waist-up in profile of Stede and Ed on the porch, sunrise behind them. Closest to the viewer, Stede stares out after their guests, hand lowering, smile fading to something a little bittersweet. Ed leans into Stede, free hand in his pants pocket, and rests his head in the crook of his neck as he follows Stede's gaze with a thoughtful smile. Ed asks, "You ever think about that for us?" 1c. Repeat. Stede's hand drops further, wrist dangling, as he turns his face toward Ed with a bewildered smile. "What?" Ed straightens from his cuddle, embarrassed, but keeps his right hand on Stede's waist. His left gestures randomly as he scrunches up his face, avoiding Stede's gaze. He explains, "Y'know...the matie-monie thing, whatever."

2a. Zoom out slightly; Stede takes a step back toward the house to face Ed as he pivots with his back toward the yard. They are still connected waist-to-hand. Stede plants his free hand on his hip with a smug little smirk and says, "Well I certainly hope that's not your proposal." Ed waves his free hand in a 'stop' motion, flustered as he meets his partner's eyes, and splutters "Wha- no! No, mate, I just... 'M having a dialogue." 2b. Repeat, zoom in. Ed dips his chin to look up at Stede through his lashes, red-faced and accepting defeat as he mumbles, "...How would you want it to go, though? Hypothetically." Stede giggles helplessly, free hand leaving his hip to rest fingertips on Ed's chest. 2c. Repeat, the background cutting out in favor of the sunrise occurring between them. They are almost forehead-to forehead, both of Stede's hands now pressed to Ed's chest and idly playing with the tips of his hair. Ed stares at his face with hooded eyes. Stede smiles, gaze lowered to focus on his hands, and says "Oh, I don't know. A bit of romance, you know. Dazzle." 2d. Repeat, zoom in to bust, background now mottled oranges and yellows. Ed raises his head to look past Stede with a frown, brow furrowed in confusion as he repeats blankly, "Dazzle." Stede hums idly to himself, concentrating on petting Ed's chest. 2e. Repeat. Stede lifts his head with a little smile, putting them nose-to-nose and adds, "I wouldn't say no to some fireworks." Ed flusters at the pointed reminder of their first time, cheeks turning red and a wobbly smile creeping across his face.

3a. Repeat. Stede asks, "What about you?" Ed leans back from their embrace, smile turning incredulous as he repeats, "Me?!" 3b. Waist up of Ed as he turns, sunrise at his back, to lean his left arm against the porch railing. He glances over the yard with a resigned little frown, fiddling with a piece of his hair with his right hand. He replies, "I dunno. Never really thought about it." 3c. Chest up of Stede as he mirrors Ed's pose with a fond if slightly amused smile, stairs and forest behind him. Offscreen, Ed continues, "Bet you had a whole scrapbook of ideas, eh?" 3d. Repeat. Stede straightens with a "Well!" and turns his body to face the house. 3e. Knees-up from the house POV as both men lean against the porch railing, the yard, ocean, and brightening sky beginning to streak itself with orange beyond. Stede is facing the viewer, back to the yard, leaning with his elbows braced on the railing. He aims his gaze to the side with a bit of a pained smile and says, "When Mary and I were engaged, a scrapbook wouldn't have been much use." Ed is turned toward Stede, left elbow propped on the railing. He scowls and sticks out his tongue at mention of Mary. 3f. Repeat. Stede turns his head toward Ed, who quickly tucks his petty tongue back in his mouth and schools his expression into one of interest. Stede continues, "Everything had been decided for us already. Never really got to the proposal part."

4a. Repeat. Ed turns his body more fully toward Stede, folding his arms on the railing and leaning his head over them with a warm smile. Stede raises his eyebrows in surprise and goes slightly pink as Ed says, "I'll have to make it really good, then." 4b. Stede turns his body toward Ed, left arm sliding against the railing behind him and right hand cupping Ed's chin as he leans closer, nose to nose. Ed's eyes hood, looking at Stede's mouth as is curls into a loving smile. Stede responds, "Can't wait." 4c. Repeat. Ed suddenly goes pale and blurts out, "You'll say yes, though, right?" Stede freezes in surprise, lips puckered in preparation of a kiss. 4d. Repeat. Stede throws his head back in a loud bark of laughter, straightening up and turning fully toward Ed to cup his cheek in his right hand and his shoulder with the other. Ed aims an embarrassed, besotted smile at him as Stede replies, "Ed, of course! Who could say no to you?"

5a. Repeat, both now in profile. The orange and yellow light of the sunrise is slowly spreading across the sky from the left. Ed straightens up from his lean to bring their foreheads together, still a bit red-cheeked and with a nervous edge to his smile as he lowers his gaze. He says, "You can say no if you want, though." Stede smiles at him with every ounce of tenderness he has, hands firm on his cheek and shoulder. He replies, "There's nothing I want more than to say yes to you, Ed. Permanent ink, remember?" 5b. Repeat. Stede moves his right hand from Ed's cheek to hook around his back, tugging him closer as he leans himself back. Ed stumbles forward with a helpless grin, cheeks even redder, bracing himself with his right hand on Stede's chest. When their eyes meet, Stede's smile turns teasing and faux-sinister, continuing, "You're stuck with me regardless. Foreverrr~" 5c. Repeat, larger and brighter, as Stede and Ed finally come together in an affirming kiss, the land behind them retreating to allow the sea and sky to fill the background. The sun finally breaches the horizon, sending glitter sparkling across the waves and gilding the pair in warm golden light. Ed's right hand is cupping the side of Stede's neck, thumb tracing through his sideburns, and Stede's right is hooked fully around his shoulders, cushioned in his soft hair. They are both smiling into the kiss, unhurried and in harmony.

6a. Repeat as they pull back from the kiss just far enough to meet each other's gaze, arms still around each other, Ed's right hand brushing Stede's cheek and Stede's buried in the back of Ed's hair. Ed smirks flirtatiously, eyes hooded, and says, "You know... I hear there's a traditional engagement sex sabbatical, too." Stede matches his expression, left hand sliding down Ed's shoulder to press against his lower back. Stede replies playfully, "Oh, is there? I suppose I can plan that part, then." 6b. Repeat. Ed brings his left hand up to mirror his right, cupping both of Stede's cheeks, and arches up on his toes to lean over Stede with a teasing grin. His movement forces Stede to arch his back in the first motions of a dip, hands briefly flying free of their grip on his future fiance to try to catch his balance. Their lips a centimeter apart, Ed hums, "Mmm, gimme a rehearsal, first." Stede tosses his head back with a giggle in response, eyes closed, cheeks pink. Hearts float above their heads. 6c. Shot at the bottom of the hill Stede and Ed are stationed on, the packed-dirt path to the house curving upward in the background, the stones and shells now more conservatively scattered. Amidst the tall grass and tropical plants lining the way are handmade wooden signs shaped like arrows pointing the way to the inn. Words carved into them say "this way!" and "best inn!" Pete and Lucius are in the foreground, walking down the hill towards the viewer, Pete's right arm still looped around his husband's shoulders. They still look very tired with dark circles beneath their eyes - Pete still hasn't opened his. Lucius has, barely, and is scowling his way forward with a furrowed brow, declaring, "We are leaving them the worst review." Pete nods solemnly. Text nearby points to them and says 'kept up all night by noises'. Pink hearts and exclamation points spill out behind them from the bend in the path, echoing the lovey-dovey noises from above that must have made their stay so insufferable. /end ID

[cheyisagirlkisser]

all this talk about brothels in zaun i forgot that there’s most definitely strip clubs. now im thinking about stripper reader giving a dance to vi😋

CONTENT: Mentions of horny thoughts, alcohol, and drugs, club setting (strippers and all that good stuff), lap dance (v! receiving), no smut but some grinding, Vi barely touches your nipples that's all she gets unfortunately:((

A/N: you are so right omg I didn't even think of that. love you for this one anon, enjoy<3 Sorry for being a tease with this but I have to make things fun for myself I write smut all the time

Bright, hot pink lights flash over in every direction. The club is packed with all sorts of people, from chembarons to Jinxers, big, buff men and other small and timid. Some are here to get high or drink 'till their hearts content, and that's what Vi thought she showed up for, not to be lumped in with the desperately horny bitches who just came to watch girls spin around a pole. However, upon seeing you, her mindset changes rather quickly.

Your hands wrap around the metal, one leg hitched around the pole, and you move with grace she used to think was impossible for someone in an explicit career choice. It's not even just that, though. Your lacy outfit.. you adorn a pink mesh fabric that leaves nothing to the imagination and gives Vi an irreparable sweet tooth. Suddenly, all of the money she previously wanted to spend on vodka goes towards getting at least one good performance from you.

-

Your body feels even better against her than she could have ever imagined.. your thighs straddle over lap as you grind down onto it in a subtle but suggestive way. Your manicured nails trail over her collarbones and up to cup her face, your smile so sickly and yet lacking of enough sustenance for her to feel satisfied. Her hands don't hesitate to hold onto your hips, trying to finally get her fill of you.

"You paid more than you needed to, you know that?" You tease, your mostly bare thighs shifting against the black material of her jeans.

"I would argue that I didn't pay you enough," She shoots back with a cocky grin. You seem intrigued by her. Many of your lap dances are given to cheap men who reek of alcohol and cigarette smoke. Vi, as messy as she looks, reminds you of something better than all of Zaun.

As the performance continues, Vi feels as though she is losing herself watching you move. Every subtle brush, every slight grind, it all drives her crazy. The club lights shining over and the extreme noise bursting from the main section of the club, but she doesn't give a fuck about that. All she really can focus on is the way each movement sends her deep into the rabbit hole of you. Each little kiss you plant on her in innocent but teasing places leaves her wishing she could just throw you over her shoulder and take you home, fuck you so roughly for being a huge tease. She can't do that, though; truth is, she's enjoying how much of a tease you are. For once, she enjoys the pure build-up. You grind against her and though the friction isn't meant to actually feel good, she swears she can, and your hair shines a tinted pink as the lights graze it, your face dark and yet so close to hers.

"Your time's almost up, sweetie." Your movements almost slow down to a halt, but Vi quickly grabs your hips, catching you by surprise. She slips a couple more coins into your bra, her hand brushing against your nipple ever so slightly.

"This'll last me a while, don't you think?" Her grin is so clear, she is just so so okay with staying at this club with you all night, even if all she gets is a little lap dance. She should be worried about the fact that all of her money is about to go towards you, that this is definitely an act of seduction you're working on her. It might as well have been magic. She can't really care when you shrug and flash that sugary smile once more, your body moving on top of hers once more.

Vi left the club that night at 4 in the morning and with a practically empty wallet, but it was so fucking worth it.

[myfictionaldreams]

Day 27: Gloryhole - Nick Fowler

Summary: You worked in a club that catered to the wealthy and powerful, with the job to satisfy them all in whatever way they wished. But what happens when the person needing satisfaction happens to be your boss, Nick Fowler?

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, reader!stripper/prostitute, multiple customers, oral (m!receiving), degradation, possessive, deepthroat, fingering, glory hole, rough sex, praise kink, sir kink, creampie

masterlist 📚 

kinktober masterlist😈 

AO3 Link 

Everyone gathered in the centre of the club, lounging on the lavish couches or on the edge of the stage that had multiple poles and dancing areas. The place was squeaky clean and, in the brightness, looked pretty respectable for a nightclub, showing the hundreds of thousands of dollars spent by the owner on maintaining the building. However, once the lights began to dim and the music turned up to a deafening level, the club became a haven for those with power and money to do whatever seedy activities they wished.

It paid well, especially the tips from specific customers, so you were more than happy to get dolled up every night and pleasure men and women in the back rooms, dance, or perform if it was what they wished.

Picking at your intricately designed nails, you chatted casually with the other girls and one of the security, waiting for the boss to come and inform everyone where they were positioned for the day. To ensure that your skills are kept up to top quality, the girls are usually moved around, and today, you were hoping to avoid being on the stage, needing a break from spinning and dancing as your muscles were starting to feel the strain of it.

The whispers hushed to silence as Mr Fowler strutted in, his signature smirk and crisp suit hugging his body to perfection. You couldn’t help but straighten your posture, the nervous butterflies fluttering in your stomach that always seemed to come whenever he was in the room. He was a powerful man and your boss, making your need to impress him more severe.

“Evening, everyone. I hope you’ve all had a good night's sleep because you’ve got a long night ahead of you. We have some special guests tonight who have heard the rumours on my…samplings”, he gestured to the girls around the room that he’d made sure all had different ethnicities, shapes, heights, eye colours, everything you could possibly think of to appease to whoever would come and spend their money in his club. With his hands in his pockets, Mr Fowler began leisurely walking around the room, addressing each girl and where he wanted them to be.

Your breaths paused as he stopped before you, his startling bright eyes exploring your body, which was covered in a dressing gown as you’d decided to change after finding out where you would be working tonight. Refraining from letting your eyes roll as his exquisite aftershave floated over your senses, you waited for your instructions.

“Sweetheart, you’ll be in the hole. I want you to be at your very best today. I’ll be sending my special guests to you throughout the night as they like to keep things anonymous”. 

He only continued with his instructions to the other girls once you’d responded with a nod and “Yes, sir”, but his eyes lingered on your bottom lip that you’d tugged between your teeth.

It had been a while since you’d been to the glory hole, but you were somewhat thankful for this as it wasn’t as strenuous as dancing on stage for hours. You also took it as a compliment in a sick sort of way that he had trusted you to be in his most famous of locations, especially with there being some important guests.

As everyone was dismissed, you walked to your locker and prepared for the night. There wasn’t much point wearing clothes when you’d be switching between using your mouth, pussy, hands and ass if it was what the customer wished for. So, you kept the dressing gown on and collected a pillow, bottle of water, towel, and some lube.

The glory hole was in a unique set of cubicle toilets; however, even this was luxurious and not anything like the dark and dingy glory holes you were used to seeing on porn websites. Instead, it was bright and welcoming, even if it was designed to be a toilet other than the hole in the cubicle at the end. Waving to the security guy who was stationed outside of the door, you entered and breathed in the regal scents from the air fresheners as you walked to your stall. There was a small shelf above the toilet that you placed all your items on except for the pillow, which you placed on the floor, knowing you’d spend a lot of time tonight using your both and wasn’t prepared to destroy your knees by being on them for hours on the marble flooring.

As the music increased, you sat on the toilet lid and scrolled through your phone, waiting patiently for the first customer. 20 minutes pass, and the door opens, the music intensifying for a moment and then dimming as the door clicks closed. Quietly, you switched your phone off and slid onto your knees, getting comfortable on the pillow as you heard the customer step into the toilet cubicle next to yours and could see a flash of expensive-looking pinstripe suit through the circular hole in the wall.

Seconds pass, and then a had cock is slipping through the hole. Your mouth descends onto it instantly, licking a long strip up the underside. It was a couple of inches long, so you had no issue taking the length entirely, which seemed to please whoever was on the receiving end of the oral sex if the groans were anything to go by.

He didn’t last very long as you gathered the cum into your mouth and quietly spat it into the tissue. You’d learnt from past mistakes that swallowing too much cum on a night like this only made it settle heavy in your stomach and left you feeling queasy by the end of the night. It wasn’t like they could see anyway, as the customers were usually zipping themselves up and exiting.

The next few were in similar situations. They were sticking their dick through the hole, and you were sucking or jerking them off to completion. Every so often, there would be someone who wanted to dirty talk, calling you their slut, whore or other unimaginative derogatory names that increased the firmness of their length. It was all white noise to you. You were here to do one job, which, to be truthful, you did very well, so if they wanted to be vulgar, they could because, at the end of the day, you were still getting a fat paycheck.

There were occasions when the customers would push a wad of rolled-up dollars through the hole as they zipped themselves up again, which you happily stacked on the shelf. These were your favourite customers, and sometimes, when you were lucky, you’d have a couple of fingers stick through the hole, wishing to pleasure you and hear your moans. Most of the time, you faked it as it was always an awkward angle, or they just thought ramming their fingers in and out without any clitoral play would ever be enough. It wasn’t, but they didn’t need to know that you were faking an orgasm as you scrolled through TikTok.

The night passed by steadily, and so far, you’d received very positive responses from the customers, and even though your jaw was aching and hands tingling from the amount of squeezing you’d been doing, it was definitely one of your better nights. It had also become incredibly warm in the windowless room, so your dressing gown had been hung on the back of the door so that you were completely naked.

The door opens and closes as you rush to shut the water bottle in your hand, swallowing the cool liquid that soothed the dryness in your mouth. Slow, calculated steps echo and bounce off the walls as you wait on your knees for the next customer, not thinking anything of the powerful stride walking towards you. The cubicle's door opens and shuts with the lock finding its home as you try to peep through the hole to have a glimpse as to who is next.

A flash of a black suit and then a thick, long cock is passing through the hole. Your eyes widen for a second, staring at the dick in front of you. It was the best-looking cock that had been in here tonight. The dark pubes were perfectly trimmed. Even though it had an incredible length, it still was rock hard and throbbing in the air, the veins bulging along the shaft and the bulbous tip a beautiful deep maroon that you complimented would look good as a lipstick shade.

Whoever it was, had a magnificent member that for once had your abdomen warming with arousal, and you hoped that whoever it was would ask to fuck your pussy, just to feel your walls stretch around it.

You licked the palm of your hand, deciding to get a feel of him first. Your fingers only just reached each other as you wrapped around his shaft, feeling the velvety soft skin and the firmness of the thumping blood beneath the surface. He was hot in your hand, and as you squeezed him tightly and moved your fist towards his tip, a clear drip of precum bubbled into the hole.

Your tongue darted out, catching the liquid and swallowing. The moan you produced was genuine because, for once, whoever it was, the skin tasted clean and not like he’d been sitting in his ball juice for hours on end. Even the precum had a satisfying salty taste to it, but you blamed those thoughts on the increasing flame between your legs.

Sitting up further on your knees, your tongue began to gently lap at the underside of his cock, following the movements of your fist. As you reached the base, the overwhelming scent of aftershave brushed over your nose as you completely froze, eyes widening and breath stilling.

A deep chuckle that you recognised immediately floated from the other toilet. “Hmm, finally recognised me at last, have you, sweetheart?” Mr Fowler confirmed your suspicions. Your body didn’t know how to handle this news. One the one had it still in fear, throat drying and heart pounding beneath your ribs. However, it also burned even more desperately with the need to satisfy him and do something you had been hoping for for months.

Even though Nick Fowler was an incredibly handsome man, he had always kept to himself, never once indulging in the girls he employed, which helped to gain the trust of the employees. This was a double-edged sword for you, having always found him attractive beyond words, but knowing any advances that you made would be worthless and potentially see that you were fired.

So now that he was here, cock resting on your tongue and in your palm, you were conflicted with what to do.

“You see, I’ve been hearing some very, very good things about the goings on in here. So much so that these gentlemen tonight have booked in with us for a further four nights, which means my profit has increased a whole fucking lot. And that’s all down to the perfect princess in the end stall.”

You weren’t entirely sure what to say. It wasn’t like you’d been going out of your way to pleasure the people coming and going from the glory hole; you’d just been doing your regular sucking and touching, so to hear him speaking so highly of your work had a deep shiver running down your spine and pooling between your legs.

“With all the high praise, I thought it would be a good idea to come and see what all the fuss was about. Test the goods, if you will. Do you think you can handle me, Princess?”

Your eyes fluttered close at the nickname, as simple as it was, the way his deep, sultry voice seemed to kiss the air, making everything seem like the most cheek-warming compliment; you were ready just about to do anything your boss asked of you.

“Yes, sir”, was your quick verbal response before your sexual acts continued. Squeezing your fingers around his cock again, your mouth moved at the same time to the very tip, wrapping your warm lips around him entirely and letting the natural weight of him lay against your tongue.

Closing your eyes, you tried to forget that it was your boss on the other side of the wall and that this was probably the most crucial blowjob that you’d ever given before.

Your mouth filled with salvia, helping to wet his length as you lapped over his size with delicate little licks as your hand moved up and down the base of his shaft. Mr Fowler sucked in a breath through his teeth as his cock throbbed in your mouth. “Didn’t think you’d be such a tease, show me what you’ve got, Sweetheart”.

Your smile for a moment before taking more of his length into your mouth, pressing your flat tongue against the sensitive underside and hollowing your cheeks to suck him in. Opening your eyes, you watched more of his cock disappear into your mouth as you forced yourself to relax your throat, a skill you had mastered since working for him.

Nearly the entire length of your boss’ cock slipped down your throat, causing a bulge with how your airflow was completely cut off, the lining of your eyes flooding with tears from the overwhelming sensation. There was still a portion of his member that hadn’t entered the warm cavernous home of your mouth, so your hand squeezed and tugged so he was utterly stimulated.

“Fuck! I knew that pretty little mouth of yours would be trouble”, Nick groaned, trying to push his hips against the wall to try and fuck your face. You tried not to choke on his length at the tiny compliment mixed into his words.

Pulling back slowly, you made sure to suck his cock thoroughly whilst licking every inch that you could. Now you knew he liked what you could do; you were desperate to see just how much you were able to make him moan.

You deepthroated him again, choking and holding your breath, eyes continuing to water and more saliva filling your mouth. Eventually, you were able to find the perfect rhythm of bobbing your head up and down his cock, listening to the gruff quiver of his voice as his palm slapped against the wall of the toilets as he became delirious due to the pleasure.

It was nearly unbearable how turned on you were. Your throbbing clit was begging to be touched so gently you spread your knees and slipped your unused hand to gently circle it, adding pressure whenever he made a noise like a reward for yourself.

The evidence of your arousal was soaking over the tips of your thighs, drenching the two fingers being used to stimulate yourself. Eventually, you needed more, especially as your chin was becoming coated in drool as the blowjob became more sloppy. Lowering your fingers, you couldn’t help and bust in a moan that caused your throat to vibrate around the cock within as those two wet fingers slipped into your hole and curled.

“Holy shit, do that again”, Mr Fowler begged behind the thin wall. You moaned again as your hips bucked to meet your finger's movements. “That feels so fucking good, I knew I’d never regret hiring you. Do you only offer your mouth?”

You pulled off the end of his mouth with an audible ‘pop’ and swallowed thickly the considerable amount of saliva in your mouth as you tried to find your words. “No, they can have any part of me they’d like”. As you explained, you pumped his cock with both hands, forgetting about your pleasure for a moment.

“Good girl,” his praise was like a sweet symphony to your ears. “Has anyone else used the other services tonight?”

“No, Sir. Only my mouth and hands; a couple have fingered me but nothing else”.

Nick growled as his fingers appeared over the top of the cubicle as he tried to hold onto something. As you wished for a moment that, there was a camera in his toilet so you could see him flush against the wall, holding on for dear life. “So you’re telling me that all those powerful people out there are spending all their money for another four days just because of a couple of sucks and tugs? You really are special, aren’t you? Maybe I shouldn’t have been so quick to share you in here and keep you all to myself”.

Biting your lip, you tried to stop yourself from grinning, just listening to him becoming possessive, which was a widespread occurrence during these intimate acts. Many of the people were so overcome with the pleasure that they’d decided that they would keep you all to themselves to use if and when they needed you. Usually, it earned an eye-roll, but right now, you were dripping wet and ready to hand in your notice if it meant you could just stay by his side and suck his cock every day.

“I’d be more than happy to let you feel my other talents, sir”, you suggested before thinking it through properly. Not that you’d regret this offer, as you were incredibly horny and wanted nothing more than to please him further.

The wall between you both creaked under the pressure of Nick’s hands gripping the top as his hips began rocking, causing his cock to push and pull through the hole. “Oh, princess, you have no idea how badly I want that right now”.

With great enthusiasm, you stood on shaky legs, ignoring the pins and needles that formed in the balls of your feet, having been on your knees for so long and turned around, facing away from the glory hole. Spreading your legs and reaching between them, you grasped his cock once more and began to position him between your legs, where you closed them firmly, trapping his length between your damp thighs.

You rocked your hips, causing his dick to press against your pussy folds, rubbing your clit and for him, he was trapped in the tight, wet hold of your legs as he fucked your thighs.

“So fucking wet and soft”, he muttered under his breath, and once more, you wish you could have been watching his face, wondering if his eyes were just as glazed as how yours were feeling at that moment.

You had him fucking your thighs for a few moments longer and then decided to change things up, not wanting to wait anymore as your feet widened the stance, and his cock nudged against your hole.

The moan you released was mouthwatering for Nick as he felt the sensitive tip of his cock become lost within your tight, gummy walls. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as your hips moved backwards, slowly to give yourself a chance to adjust to his thick size until your cheeks were flush against the wall.

“You’re so big, sir”, you blurt out, body shaking with trepidation at the pressure of being stretched for him.

“I am, but you’re taking me so well, Princess”. Even his encouraging words had you mewling with quivers, wanting and needing more of him.

Leaning forward, you reached out to the other side of the wall, pushing off of it to help you ride his cock in the limited position that you had with the glory hole. Thankfully, Mr Fowler began to fuck the wall, so you were both thrusting into each other with increasing speed and strength. He seemed to fit you perfectly, stroking against all of those special nerves that built the tightening warmth in your core. Each time he pushed back inside of you was like a million exploding fireworks of pleasure to blossom throughout your body. You never wanted it to end.

As you tried to rise onto your tip toes to try and push back onto his harder, your pussy suddenly clamped down harder around him, like it was laying claim to him, holding him tightly and never wanting to let him go.

“Sir, oh my- I’m cumming, Sir, please don’t stop!”. You were thinking of nothing else but the cock pounding into your pussy, begging him with everything that you had for this orgasm to reach its peak.

“I can feel you, Sweetheart. So tight around my cock, you’re doing so well for me. Be a good girl and cum for me, and I’ll give you what you really want”.

Nick fucks the glory hole with even more enthusiasm as you are forced to have both hands against the opposite wall to push yourself even harder back against his cock. Your cunt was squeezing him so tightly he was nearly seeing stars as you finally came. Your knees wobbled as your walls spasmed in flutters through the orgasm, more fluid dripping down onto your thighs as you cried out for Mr Fowler.

He was shouting something as well, but you weren’t able to understand what it was he was saying as the faint, satisfied buzz filled your ears, and the edge of your orgasm began to calm. You were exhausted, but you didn’t stop fucking hard back against the cock until you were aware that there was thick, warm fluid seeping into your cunt as Nick’s thrusts stilled, his cum filling you completely.

It took all of your strength not to collapse to your knees as you both tried to recover from the fucking. As the softening cock slipped out, followed by a gush of cum was when you could finally fall back onto the pillow on the floor with a satisfied moan.

Being back in this position, you were able to watch through the hole as Nick began to tuck himself back into his suit, not even bothering to clean yours or his juices that gleamed over his length. Your cheeks warmed at this sight, knowing you’d remember it for the rest of your life.

Mr Fowler released a deep breath and reached into his back pockets, and once more, you wish you could see his face, but all you were able to see was his waistline and hands as they rummaged through his wallet and pulled out a hefty roll up of cash that he shoved through the hole and landed in your lap.

“This’ll cover any further tips you would have made for the remainder of the night. Which you can have off. Get yourself cleaned up, and I’ll drive you home, Princess”.

[lilacargent]

How cold is too cold?

The Quelec had been left alone after their adamant refusal to join the Conclave. This draconian looking species viewed most other creatures as lesser, which made the conclave just as happy to ignore the Quelec and their nearly uninhabitable icy planet.

It didn’t take long before the Prideful creatures couldn’t stand being put to the side like they didn’t matter. Requesting a diplomatic convoy to reopen the conversation was only a ploy to take them hostage and issue ridiculous demands to capture the Conclaves attention.

It is now that a conclave mother ship is hanging just out of orbit to make a plan to get them back. Above a massive map of the icy landscape with one thin line of forest across its median, the three crews tasked with the retrieval are discussing loudly.

“No they can sense electrical currents, and any blast from their breath weapons will shut down our vehicles.” The tall bipedal alien that looks remarkably like a yeti yells at the other people around the table ‘going in with a full frontal attack is going to get everyone killed and if they don’t the cold will. The hostages are held at this planets south pole, which functions as a great prison because of its insane cold!’ The group of Lokachs (a more serpent like alien) hiss at the hostile tone ‘ssssoo far you have not gotten a better idea. Perhaps think for yourself Loquacious.’ When a fight is about to break out the human mediator steps forward. Followed by a tall bearded man and a woman dressed in remarkably non uniform clothes, with markings on her face. ‘No fighting here, they send all of us because we have different experiences with the cold. You, Loquacious of the Relokip, can keep your internal temperatures high like the Quelec can but you’re saying they can sense how you do that?’ the second in command responds ‘Captain Drissum, sir. We generate static electricity in our fur and change it through our nerve system into heat. But the energy will set off the sense of the Quelec.’ With a slow nod Marcus will gesture to the people with him ‘We specifically picked people from a cold climate with generations of experience for this mission: Katjuk from the united Inuit tribes, and Bjørn from the high north and re-established viking society. After many humans left the planet because space travel became widely available the sudden climate changes from the departure of all these people caused an ice age to some degree. All of a sudden skills their people had perfected over generations became increasingly valuable, now they come to share this with us.’

Stepping into the middle of the group Katjuk is the first to speak, ‘we have means to travel the icy tundra without alerting the Quelec, and my friend and his crew have the skills and weapons to protect us during this track. The air is almost good for us the only dangerous aspect is the sulfur and a simple respirator will fix this without using electricity.’ Loquacious lets out a loud bellowing laugh ‘How in the eternal universe are you going to survive the cold without your electricity run suits then? And if you people are soooo cool why do you need us?!’ Marcus just facepalms and Bjørn shoulders past him towering above most people here, but only at eye hight with Loquacious ‘Unless you want us to drop you at the surface with us, you get to sit in your pretty ships and shoot up the other pole and if you are actually brave you can make a bigger splash by going into orbit and making sure they leave their hidey holes.’ kitjak pulls out several packages of fabric and shows one of them to the groups ‘these are a type of clothes our ancestors have used to keep warm in horrible cold, we are going to use them now to do the same. Now on how to get on the planet we are going to do a dead drop, with parachutes. No electricity involved.’ With a thoughtful expression the elder woman looks at the main Lokach, ‘we are going to need your biggest stealth ship, i have been told that it can start up with unheard of speeds almost straight up, is that correct? If so we would need it dropped with us, it is going to be our way out, hopefully it is too quick for the Quelec to respond and we can be picked ultimately outside of orbit.’ Taking a step forward the male bows his head ‘thisss iss the cassse indeed, how do you know it exists?’ Marcus laughs ‘we know most things, but that is not the point now.’ Seemingly having decided that the other groups knew all they needed the humans start speaking with eachother about how they are going to time all of it.

After the fact Loquacious recounts with stunned admiration to the Conclave ‘they dropped down from our highspeed ships with 30 creatures they call dogs, specifically trained to pull sleds and run in packs. The sleds flew over the icy landscape with no regard for the cold. Once they arrived at the strong hold Bjørns men put on spikes on their feet, ropes all around them and scaled the walls like it was nothing. Somehow it took no more than 30 minutes for them to return with the hostages, dropping them down with the ropes like they weighed nothing. Immediately being clothed by Kitjacks group put on the sleds, to return at breakneck speeds.’ Loquacious is silent for a bit when Ilsop (the head Lokach) speaks up ‘with no regard for their own safety they returned the people to the ship we had dropped in the forest line, the dogs are trained to not fear anything their people will tell them to do. There was no sign of exhaustion on these creatures, i believe they would have been able to walk so much further.’ Shocked faces all around look to the massive windows overlooking the internal park of this garden world where a dozen humans are playing with dangerous predators without a fear in the world.

The humans will always find a way.

Outside Bjørn is speaking with Kitjak ‘You know it wasnt even that cold, a Canadian would have worn shorts’ Laughing loudly the woman agrees.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tadah

As this is not my culture i did a lot of research, if i have represented things wrong please tell me. Because of that i have remained vague on certain aspects i could not find clear info on.

This took a bit but in response to @caffineandsugar s request for nordic/inuit/ scandinavian focussed.

[wood-white-writer]

"Didn't mean to make your heart Blue" || [3/...]

- OPLA!Buggy x F!Reader

"And I am the idiot with the painted face, in the corner taking up space. But when he walks in, I am loved."

— Mitski, "Me and My Husband"

Pairing: Buggy the Clown (Live action) x F!Reader

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

Summary: You were an apprentice of Gol D. Roger’s crew in your youth, long before his eventual demise. Along with the Red-Haired Shanks and Buggy, you were a formidable trio; the embodiment of a new generation of pirates yet to come. But times changed, and so did you and your friends. Years have passed since you last saw Buggy following the dispute that you thought ended your friendship. When you finally reunite with the blue-haired menace you once considered your closest friend, it’s under less than “friendly” circumstances.

Warnings: Canon typical violence, LA!Verse, Buggy is a lonely asshole, flashbacks, semi-canon divergence, Reader is strong AF,

A/N: I forgot to mention this before, but I guess this technically does hold some spoilers from the manga/anime. Keep in mind, I've not seen/read either piece, so it's merely used to give their stories some background.

Taglist: @kurinhimenezu, @carpinchootaku (If you want to be tagged for this story, just send me a message or comment :))

Fuck, fuck, fuck, where the fuck are you?

After some time of searching, Buggy finds you sitting by the docks, your feet gently swaying with the waves, almost free of any earthbound weight. He’d join you if he could, but he’s not brave enough to get too close to the waters yet.

However, he’s content enough to just watch you from a safe distance. The sky is free of clouds and the moon is full, which illuminates your shape like a bright lantern in the night.

Beautiful, that's what he thinks you are. In fact, that's what he's been thinking for a while now, not that he's ever told you that to your face. He wonders when he stopped looking at you like something more than a friend. 

Maybe it was when he caught you smiling at him after you'd successfully managed to steal a bottle of fine rum from the local bar, and you both ended up getting blackout drunk on the ship deck?

Maybe it was when he saw you win a round of arm-wrestling against one of your other crewmates, despite being significantly younger than the opponent.

Maybe it was when you beat a guy black and blue for making fun of his nose in public, with both him and Shanks cheering you on from a safe distance? 

It doesn’t matter when it was. What matters is that, for a while, he has found it difficult to take his eyes off you. Even if it’s just a peek, it usually takes him a while to force his attention on something else.

The rest of the crew are on the Oro Jackson, celebrating their recent endeavors, yet here you are, celebrating on your own. He finds it odd; you’re usually happy to participate in any celebrations with the crew, but you’ve decided to be here instead. It was your absence on deck that prompted Buggy to go looking for you.

The wind picks up and he can feel goosebumps spread across his skin like wildfire. He shivers and tugs his jacket tighter around himself, and that’s when he notices that you’re not wearing any additional clothing to stave off the cold in the night.

He finally calls out to you, a little throaty for reasons he refuses to disclose aloud. “You’re gonna get a cold like that, dumbass! You wanna get pneumonia and die or something?”

You subsequently turn around to face him, and his breath gets caught in his throat. Your sharp eyes, when caught in the moonlight, sparkle like a thousand treasures — compiled of gold, diamonds, and millions and millions of berries — holed up in two caves.

Smiling in the way that makes his pulse quicken, you proceed to wave your feet in the water. A few drops land on your arms, sparkling in the air before landing on the skin of your arms. “I don’t think so? If we get to the South Pole, maybe there’s a higher risk?”

He frowns and crosses his arms over his chest. “The North Pole is colder!”

“Ah, well,” you snicker. “In that case, then I’m not likely to get pneumonia unless we’re there.”

“You can still get cold! What are you, a moron?” 

For someone who can’t keep his eyes off you for extended periods, that doesn’t keep him from being rather crass in terms of vocabulary with you. That’s alright. You’ve never been one to appreciate honeyed words if your frequent bickering with both him and Shanks says something.

With another swing of your legs, you reestablish contact with with wooden platform and make your way over to him. That’s when he finally realises that you haven’t brought your shoes with you, but you don’t seem bothered by it. “By the way, what’re you doing here, Buggy?“

He considers telling you a simple lie that won’t clash with what he knows to be the truth. He was coincidentally going for a walk, he needed some air, he was purposefully looking for you…

“Noticed you weren’t on the ship,” he finally settles on with a hmph. “Had to make sure you hadn’t accidentally up and drowned or something. You’re a shitty swimmer,”

“Not as shitty as you,” you counter and blow him a raspberry. 

He’s about to tell you to fuck off or something when, again, he finds himself pausing. 

You’re smiling at him, so softly, and it feels so warm that the wind no longer has any effect on him. He can feel his cheeks scorch up and his heart is pounding so hard that it feels on the verge of breaking his ribs.

He hastily looks away and coughs a couple of times, trying to maintain what little dignity he has left.

“Are you alright?” You ask with faux concern. “Did you just catch pneumonia or something?”

“S-Screw you!”

You laugh, and it’s like music to his ears. Your laughs are usually raspy and hardly appropriate, but he finds that it’s the prettiest sound in the world. Your smile, your laugh, they are so warm that he hopes that you’ll never stop making them.

Out of the blue, you wrap an arm around his shoulder and begin tugging him on the path to the ship. “Come on, before they leave us behind.”

“Y-Yeah, let’s.” He doesn’t move to tug your arm away, and no power on this earth will make him.

------

Now that he's closer to the kid, Buggy realizes the stupidity of asking if he was yours. The two of you are nothing alike, but the truly defining factor lies in your eyes. Rubber Boy's eyes are too bright, too round. Whereas yours are knives ready to strike, his' are simple spoons.

He begrudgingly has to hand it to the kid; he's a fearless one. Even stretching his limbs beyond human capabilities does not diminish his spirit. Buggy doesn't know whether to applaud or reject the determination the boy has.

"I want you to think of this, like an artistic exercise," he explains. "Because pain leads to art, and art reveals truth."

He can't hear any commotion from the backrooms where he keeps you contained. Truth be told, he never expected it to keep you for long, only detain you for a limited amount of time. If he wants to both get the map and keep his life in one go, he is going to have to try and get it without necessarily ruining the kid too much.

Still, it doesn't keep him from testing the lines. He tries to pry the answers out with a needle, but no matter what he does, the kid remains infuriatingly mute. 

So, he decides to dig a little deeper.

"Now, what makes a boy want to grow up to be King of the Pirates? Who are you trying to impress?" He tilts his head with inquisitiveness. "A lost love?"

On cue, he can vaguely make out a gnarling sound coming from the back rooms. The sound of chains rattling, which he perceives as you probably moving in the enclosure. He thinks about sending someone to check on you and find out what you're up to, but he does not want the number of supporting casts to reduce.

"An absent parent?" He continues, ignoring the noises as he closes in on the boy. "Or was it someone that you worshipped? A false idol."

Try as he might, the boy fails to feign any indifference to him. A master of performance himself, Buggy knows when he's hit his target "That's it."

He yanks the dumb straw hat off his head, and the boy's protests against it further dig a nail into the coffin. "Give me back my hat!"

"I used to know a pirate that wore a hat just like this." Buggy's grip on the feeble thing drastically tightens as memories of the past resurface. "Red-Haired Shanks."

"You knew Shanks?"

"Ginger? Three scars, left eye?" Of course, how could he not know of the bastard? "We served together on a pirate crew when we were about your age. In fact," he glances at the boy from over his shoulder. "Your friend, Cross-Hairs over there, was with us at the time."

The kid blinks in confusion, clearly not aware of this little piece of information. "I knew she served with Shanks, but she never mentioned you."

In all honesty, it doesn't surprise him, yet he still perceives this as a slight against him from your side. The underlying hypocriticism in that doesn't evade his notice, but he elects not to address it. 

Buggy can feel the straws under his digits lightly crack beneath the pressure of his grip. "She did, but before then, it was the three of us. For a time, I even thought we were friends." His nail pierces a hole through the inside of the hat. "Until they betrayed me, like all the others. He wanted to keep me out of the spotlight! He wanted to keep my star from shining too brightly!"

"They wouldn't do that," Rubber Boy is quick to protest, rather vehemently too as if Buggy just insulted his entire lineage. "You don't know her, and you don't know Shanks. Don't talk about them that way."

"I bet I know her far better than you do, Rubber Boy." He smirks and raises a knowing eyebrow at the kid. "Does she still snatch specifically red apples off vendors when you're in town? Does she still tend to store her knives in her boots when she thinks no one's looking?"

The kid doesn't have to answer. His silence is all the confirmation he needs, and it makes him feel victorious in some sense. 

"Let me ask you something else, then. How'd the famous Captain of the Cross-Haired Pirates get stuck with a simple-minded nobody like you? What did you do that was so special that she decided to stick around until now?" 

The damn brat doesn't answer.

He presses on. "Apparently, she made a promise to someone, and though I have a sneaking suspicion as to whom, I don't want to jump the gun." He grasps harshly at the kid's face, no longer smiling. "You know, and if you tell me, I might be convinced to lessen the restraints."

The damn brat still doesn't fucking answer, and it vexes him greatly. Even so, if there's one thing he's learned, it's that the kid's silence can be substituted for an answer.

So, he finally asks the billion-berry question: 

"Was it Shanks?"

Rubber Boy does not answer. He doesn't fucking answer, and Buggy's patience snaps like a twig.

You would be willing to go through all of this trouble, to keep the kid safe and help him achieve his dream, just because you made a silly promise to what was once your mutual friend. You would give up your career as one of the most successful pirates in the modern age, just for that?

Just for him?

Deep down, he feels something carve at him. Carve at the boyish version of him he left behind the same day he left you. Would you have been just as loyal to him as you were to Shanks, if only he stayed?

He does not voice these thoughts aloud. Instead, he can't help but beam, because everything he's theorized up until this point has just been verified. It aches, and it hurts, and it cuts, but even so, he can only smile down at the boy.

"Stretch him until he breaks." 

------

Although you hear a commotion coming from the stage room, and despite the urge you have to just break out and be done with this all, you deliberately remain in your cage. One leg pulled up to your chin whereas the other one rests uncomfortably on the stale ground boards, you do nothing more than let your temper simmer down.

Honestly, what a mess.

You made one thing perfectly clear to Shanks the day you agreed to disband your crew and keep watch on the boy. It had not even been a week after he returned to the docks of Fooshia Village, one arm short and the boy by his side.

------

"I am not his parent. I will not be held responsible for the mistakes he makes when he decided to leave land. I will only keep him alive until I decide he can do that himself; after he's earned his first bounty. After that, I'm off."

"And what will you do after?" he had asked, genuinely curious.

You didn't answer, because you didn't know.

"Look after the lad for me, will you? Help him achieve his dream." He had taken your shoulder under his warm remaining hand and said:

"Maybe one day, you'll find your own."

------

If you'd known that Luffy's dream would one day lead you back to him, you would've been more reluctant to make that promise. At the time, you had little interest in picking up the shattered pieces of your childhood dream, yet it seems that now it has decided to search you out instead.

Or rather, he has.

Your head hurts.

This is not the time for heartfelt reunions if there ever was one. Buggy has only one goal in mind, and that is to get his hands on that damn map. Harming Luffy will serve as a means to an end in achieving that, which happens to clash with your goal. You're not Luffy's parent, you tell yourself, but you're willing to extend the promise to Shanks just this once.

And so, after some careful deliberation, you make your escape. 

You hit the metal once, and it bends significantly. Then twice, and on the third strikes, they bend and crack, finally granting you access to direct contact with the ground. It's never felt so relieving to be earthbound, and you even go as far as to tap your feet a few times to enrich that feeling.

Having most likely heard the noise, two troupe members march through the curtains to see what's going on. The first one barely has the time to register your escape before you lunge. 

You're quick to subdue them, knocking the first one out with an easy choke-hold whereas the other mysteriously ends up with half his body stuck in what remains of your previous confinement. His ass hangs out in a rather humiliating position, but the point is, he's out of the way. 

The adrenaline is the one part of piracy you've missed. The surge of energy that flows through your veins, feeling the air brush your face as you make your move, the warmth in your heart that substitutes any pain or hurt you've ever felt if only for a moment.

You relish it.

You happen to find your weapons in the room, hidden in some crates. Your knives and your pistol, are both unscathed and fully functional, but you know that you'll end up relying on your hands for this. After all, it's personal, and personal matters are handled in a personal way. 

When you're certain the two troupe members are of no concern to you, you exit the back rooms and find yourself in the opening between the audience rows shortly after. The lights have been killed and there's an ominous silence stretching in the atmosphere.

You look up at the terrified audience, and though you're almost in clear view of them, none dares stray away from the view up ahead. 

Said view in question being of Luffy halfway submerged by seawater in a tank, already struggling to keep himself afloat. 

Fuck this. Fuck him.

You don't even stop to coordinate your next move as, as you would've done under ordinary circumstances. No, the moment you spot Buggy standing there, trying to reason with the kid with the promise of belonging and having a place on his crew, you lunge for the kill.

------

All Buggy sees just as you make your move is a flash of sharp eyes that seem to glow in the dim room. There's no word upon your entrance, no sound, not a single warning at all. A shriek resonates through the air, shattering the silence that had unknowingly settled over them, and it's his own. 

The air gets knocked out of his lungs as you shove your fist straight into his stomach. Ordinarily, that specific portion of his would've just straight up dislodged itself from his body, but it doesn't this time. He remains intact, a contradiction to what you had threatened to do, and he falls back several good feet on his back like a kicked dog.

A raspy groan is all the noise he manages to get out, heaving his chest in search of the air that was stolen from him. He throws one arm to the ground and gets his upper body up. 

When he finally manages to somewhat stabilize his line of sight, all he sees as the world remains blurred around him is you standing over him with a dangerous glimmer in your eyes. One he's already familiar with.

This is not his old friend or his old flame crew member. This is Cross-Hairs, the feared captain of the vicious Cross-Haired Pirates. The Beast of the East. The one whose aim never misses, and if it does, she'll hunt her target down to the ends of the earth.

And now, he's officially become your target. No longer a passive one at that, but the only one your eyes are set on. He doesn't know if he's content or unnerved by this.

There are no palpable emotions on your face, but he can read your eyes well enough to know that you're angry. No, angry doesn't even begin to cover it; you're absolutely, positively, completely pissed. 

"What?" He forces out, still aching from the punch to his abdomen. "Going to make good on your promise? Going to finally kill me after all this time? If so, then just get on with it!"

You don't answer, and he hates it even more than he would've had you responded. A part of him wants you to kill him; wants you to show that you care enough about him to just fucking do it.

No, instead, all you give him is a glare. That same glare that's never left your face since he first laid his eyes on you. You turn your full attention to the tank and, with one simple hit, you break the glass to try and free Rubber Boy. You free him, without even a moment to hesitate, and it feels so much more painful than if you’d just ended him on the spot.

He wants to scream. Buggy wants to scream until his lungs give in. Scream at your inability to fully look at him. Scream at your apparent concern for a boy who is no more a pirate than he is a banker. 

Scream, because even after all this time, you still refuse to choose him.

Never him.

[ipso-faculty]

Today's rabbithole: the origins of "dyadic" as opposite of intersex/h-word

TLDR: "dyadic" seems to come from 1970s radical feminism and seems to have entered intersex vocabulary via gender studies. This implies it is NOT a term coined from within the intersex community.

I've been reading Cripping Intersex since it's this month's pick for @intersexbookclub (and it's not too late for you to pick it up yourself! 💜). One thing that caught my attention is Orr spends a bunch of time presenting the origins of "endosex" and "perisex" as disputed for whether these terms were coined by intersex people or not.

Orr does this because they clearly prefer "dyadic" and are trying to justify why they're talking about "compulsory dyadism" rather than "compulsory endonormativity/perinormativity" etc. 🤨

Interestingly enough, Orr makes absolutely zero attempt in the book to find an origin for the word "dyadic". 🧐 Orr also never questions whether the term "dyadic" actually came from the intersex community. 🧐 So..... rabbit hole time!

Before I get into what I found on dyadic, I wanna quickly fact check Orr on the origin of endosex. Best as I can tell, the term was first used in German in 2000 by Heike Bödeker. Bödeker is controversial for supporting autogynephilia 😬, but I've never seen anybody doubt Bödeker having mixed gonadal dysgenesis. If anybody knows of an older use of endosex, please send it my way! But as far as I can tell, "endosex" was coined by an intersex person.

Okay, onto the origin of dyadic. Orr presents this word as though its only detractors come from its implication there is a sex binary, even though as @intersex-ionality discusses here there are other reasons people don't like it. One reason is that the term is considered to originate from outside the intersex community.

Orr never questions the origins of dyadic. But intersex-ionality's post got me wondering if I could track down an textual origin.

So I went to Google Scholar, searched for "dyad" or "dyadic" plus "intersex" or the h-word and kept changing the time period increasingly far back in time. (Initially I just used intersex until I remembered the h-word slur would be more common in older articles 😬.)

I went into this thinking maybe dyadic would be related to how in early intersex studies literature like Critical Intersex (2009) you can see authors trying out terms like "dimorphic" and "dimorphous" that reference sexual dimorphism. (Neither "dyadic" nor "endosex" show up in the book.)

But the earliest works by intersex scholars that invoke dyadic tend to use it in a way that implies to me it has its own origin - e.g. Malatino (2010) talks about "at one pole, the dyad of the dimorphic heterosexual couple and, at the other, the hermaphroditic body" and "the heteronormative promised land of proper dyadic, dimorphic sex" which gives me the impression dyadic has a more sociological origin rather than the biology origin of dimorphic.

This 2010 gender studies article by Mandy Merck that talks about the intersex rights movement was my first solid lead. Merck draws a direct connection between the intersex rights movement and the 1970 book The Dialectic of Sex by Shulamith Firestone. 😯

In the book, Firestone explicitly talks about the "male-female dyad". This book had a fairly big impact when it came out. Firestone was a big-name second-wave radical feminist. And as Merck puts it: "[Firestone's] aim is to release women and men from the culturally gendered[5] dyad of the “subjective, intuitive, introverted, wishful, dreamy or fantastic” and the “objective, logical, extroverted, realistic”[6] into a society undivided by genital differences. This she calls “integration.”" (emphasis mine)

Pushing the search terms to before the 00s, I found I there were some 1980s botanists kinda using "dyad" as an opposite to "hermaphrodite" (example). I don't know how standard this was though, and with Google Scholar it is important to remember that digitization becomes less common the further back you go. 🤷‍♀️

Judith Butler used "dyadic" in a 1985 article about Foucault's Herculine Barbin.

The Butler article got me searching for more generally - "dyad" or "dyadic" plus "sex-roles male female". I found lots of results using dyadic to talk about female/male sex roles from the 1970s.... and a rather sudden paucity of such articles in the 1960s. 🤔

When I restricted the search to anything before 1970, I get results from symbolic interactionist sociology. I.e. the sociology use of "dyadic" (i.e. any social interaction happening between a pair of individuals).

So looks like dyadic as a sex role thing entered the academic lexicon in the early 70s. Which lines up pretty damn well with The Dialectic of Sex coming out in 1970. 👍️ And indeed, many of the 70s uses of "dyadic" explicitly cite Firestone.

I'm guessing Firestone was probably influenced by the interactionist term. Lots of sociologists were talking about dyadic relationships and/or interactions such as teacher-student, parent-child, husband-wife, etc. In this context, it's not surprising that Firestone would pick dyad as a term to talk about male-female sex roles and interactions.

Other than the 1980s botany articles I didn't actually find much from the pre-2000 biology world, and no leads from the medical literature. This doesn't mean "dyadic" wasn't being used by physicans, just that it isn't showing up in my searches on Google Scholar.

I'm coming out of this with the impression that Merck's got it right to be connecting the intersex-related use of dyadic as originating from the writing of Shulamith Firestone. If anybody knows of competing evidence for an origin, *please* do send it my way as I'd be super interested. But in the absence of other evidence, I'd tentatively say that the term dyadic came out of second wave radical feminism and *not* the intersex community.

[minisugakoobies]

It's You - Choi San | First Kiss

Pairing: San x Reader Genre: smut, crack, fluff, angst, roommates to lovers, BFF's Lil Bro!AU Series Rating: M (18+) Drabble Warnings: angst!, mutual pining comes to a head, or more accurately to lips, aka kissing Word Count: 1.8k (ok it's a little more than a drabble) Disclaimers: NSFW, obviously I don’t own ATZ - they just inspire me

Summary: He was only supposed to be a temporary roommate. Your best friend's little brother, crashing on your couch for a few weeks. That's it. How did this happen?

A/N: Hi, I'm back. This is the first vignette that's not from an ask but just from my own head. I just really wanted to write their first kiss, so I did! I hope you enjoy. 🥰

Taglist is open! Reblog, comment, or send me an ask to be added! You can also send me any ideas/thoughts you might have for a future scenario - who knows, it might end up in a drabble! 💕

It's You Masterlist 🐈‍⬛ ATZ Masterlist 🐈‍⬛ Main Masterlist

A few weeks after Halloween, Hongjoong invites everyone to a friend’s deejaying gig on the other side of town. Your roommate opts out, saying she’d rather spend one of her rare nights off at her boyfriend’s, so you, San, Wooyoung, and Hongjoong check it out together.

After the gig ends, your ears still ringing, feet aching from all the dancing you did, the four of you make your way home. Wooyoung and Hongjoong both seem hyped from the show, talking excitedly as you wait for the train. You watch them with a fond smile, leaning against the wall and taking turns lifting your feet to take some of the pressure off. 

San joins you. “You okay, Noona?” 

“Yeah. Just wore the wrong boots tonight,” you say. “Didn’t realize we’d be dancing so much.” 

“Oh, yeah. I guess I could’ve warned you,” San grins. “Sorry. We’re not the type to sit through a set.” 

“Clearly,” you reply, smiling back. Honestly, you’d been pleasantly surprised at how well San and his friends dance. They were so free with their movements and their energy had been infectious. You couldn’t have stood still if you’d tried. 

Of course, now you’re paying for it, wincing as your throbbing feet scream at you. You shuffle again, and then, ever-so-gracefully, you lose your balance, tipping over, letting out a loud expletive that draws everyone’s attention. 

Hongjoong and Wooyoung cackle as San grabs your arm, pulling you back upright. 

“No worries, Noona, I’ve got you.” 

He murmurs the words reassuringly, arm sliding from yours to loop around your shoulders, squeezing you into his side, but only for a second, before he scolds the other two for laughing so much. You giggle along as Wooyoung and San pretend to fight, but your heart’s not in it, because it’s still yearning painfully for San to hold you again. Every time he touches you - hugs you goodbye, cuddles with you on the couch, even the briefest moments of contact like just now - it leaves this black hole inside your chest, an endless gnawing need for more and more and more. 

At some point, you won’t be able to withstand it anymore. You’re not sure what will happen then.

The train car is crowded when your group enters. Unfortunately for your tired feet, there's nowhere to sit, and blessed little space to stand, so everyone splits up, trying to find room for themselves. Except for San, who guides you towards the opposite doors with a gentle touch on your back, and then stands beside you, reaching overhead to hold on while your hands curl around a pole. 

Some creepy guy already too close on your right leans over, trying to get an eyeful of your chest, and San smoothly slides around, blocking you from the asshole’s view. You smile gratefully, and he gives you an intimidating look but undercuts his mean mugging with an eyebrow wiggle, and you giggle, which then makes him grin, a chain reaction of happiness that leaves you buzzing. 

The gentle sway of the car as it hurdles down the tracks shakes you. You bump into San with a horribly steady rhythm, feeling sheepish for not having a strong enough core to keep yourself upright and balanced for more than a second at a time. He just laughs, finally throwing an arm around your back to help.

His hold is light, leaving a big sliver of air between you, a respectful distance that frankly makes you wish he’d be disrespectful. But he maintains it, supporting you in the most polite way, and somehow it still makes your heart jump fast as the wheels spinning beneath your feet.  You turn your head, focusing on the window on the door, watching your reflection as the dark tunnels roll by. 

At the next stop, more people pack themselves into the car. The small bubble of space around you pops as the wave of humanity rolls you into San, and you bring your hands up, bracing yourself against his chest, eyes widening at the solid warmth beneath your fingertips. 

“Shit, sorry, sorry.” You apologize profusely, trying to step away, but the train jerks again, jostling you, and San tightens his grip, pulling you back into his arms. 

“It’s ok,” he mutters, in a quiet voice. “I told you. I’ve got you.” 

When your gazes meet, it’s like the air has been sucked from the car. Something shimmers in his dark eyes as they roam your face, and you utter his name unthinkingly, a tiny “San” just slipping from your open mouth, but it feels like a rogue confession of something you’ve been denying for so long. You’re not sure if he heard it but he definitely saw it because he’s been staring at your lips for a few seconds now.

You lean in at the same time he tilts his chin forward, and your mouths meet in the middle. A light kiss, feather soft, like testing the waters. The next one lingers, his lips firmer against yours. His hand splays on your back. You twist your fingers into the front of his t-shirt. 

A third press weakens your knees, as his mouth slots against yours. Lips move together, part, allowing him to breathe in your little gasp. 

The train emerges from the tunnel, and suddenly the lights in the car blast on as it comes to a slow stop at the next station. Immediately, you spring back, and so does San. 

His expression is searing, and you glance away, looking to see if any of your friends are nearby, but the only one you can glimpse is Hongjoong. He’s got his back to you, a few feet and a dozen people away. 

When the train starts up again, a few riders lighter, San loosens his grip, hand gliding up to a spot between your shoulders, far from the small where it had just been resting. By the time you reach your stop, his arm is more hovering than touching.

You and San find Hongjoong a few feet ahead of you when you depart. Wooyoung’s still on the train, since his place is closer to the next stop. Hongjoong slows his quick stride enough for you to catch up. 

“You guys up for some ramen?” he asks, like he always does on late nights like this. You and San look at each other, and you don’t know if it’s the dim streetlights or what, but you can’t read his expression.

“Nah, I’m good,” San answers.

“I think I’m just gonna go to bed,” you start to say at the same time, cutting off to let San finish and then repeating yourself with a nervous laugh.

“‘Kay.” Hongjoong bears the rejection with his usual nonchalance. “I’ll see you later.” He crosses the street, heading for the convenience store on the next block. 

And it’s just the two of you now, walking in silence. Two more blocks and you’ll be home. One more block. Just up the stairs now. Key in door, door closed, shoes off. 

You stare at each other. He blinks first.  

“Should we - “

“Did you want to - “

“Hey guys.” 

Your roommate comes padding out of the kitchen, cup of tea in hand. 

“Hey!” you nearly shout. “I thought you were staying over at Jongho's?” 

If she’s surprised by the volume of your voice, Haneul doesn’t show it. She shrugs. “Yunho was being annoying, so I left.” 

Yunho is Jongho’s roommate. He’s rarely at their apartment on the weekends. Just your luck that this would be the one night a year he strikes out and goes to his own bed instead of someone else’s.

Or maybe it’s for the best. Because it’s not too late to stop now before you do something else. Something potentially foolish. Let it just be a kiss. A one-time loss of rationality. Of caution. 

Even if you can’t stop thinking about that night at the bar. Sitting there with San’s arms wrapped around you just felt so right. 

Even if it’s been ages since you felt this way about someone. 

Even if you’re pretty sure you’re falling for San. 

“Are you going to bed or are you gonna stay up for a bit?” Haneul asks, taking a seat on the couch. 

“Um…” you fight the impulse to glance at San. “I don’t know. I’m not really tired or anything….” Truth be told, you’re a little wired now. “Why?” 

“I was thinking of starting that new drama Jongho told us about. Wanna join me?” She pats the space next to her.

San mumbles something about taking a shower. You watch him leave the room, and it feels like whatever happened on the train is already fading away. Did it really happen, or was it just a dream? Are your fantasies bleeding over into your waking hours now? 

San joins you and Haneul near the end of the first episode, taking a spot on the floor in front of the couch so he can stretch out. He looks so soft, with his dark hair freshly fluffed from a towel, dressed in his favorite hoodie and sweats, and it’s a struggle to keep your focus on the television and not wonder what would’ve happened had Haneul not been home.

Part of you wishes San would catch you looking. But you’re not sure you could handle it if you met his gaze right now and didn’t find what you were hoping to find. 

It’s actually a little odd how quiet he is, staring so intently at the show that you are completely ignoring. Is he doing the same thing you are, replaying the moment in his mind? Trying to freeze it in your memory?

Your stomach drops as you consider another possibility. What if he thinks the kiss was a mistake? 

By the time the third episode is over, you’re exhausted, from your night out but also from the mental gymnastics you’ve been performing, silently twisting yourself into knots thinking about San and the train and what could happen versus what should. So you excuse yourself for the safety of your bedroom, where you can dream in peace.

Nero’s already curled up on his favorite spot on your bed, right next to where you lay your head. He cracks an eye open as you flop down beside him, and you reach out to give him an apologetic scritch, when you catch a scrap of paper poking out from beneath him. A note, with San's handwriting. He must’ve slipped it on your pillow after his shower. The first sentence sends relief flooding through you.

I don’t regret it. 

But it’s what’s written next that has you rereading the note over and over. It’s a simple sentence, just a pleading command, but to you, it’s a revelation. 

Please tell me you want more too.

If you liked this fic, please consider reblogging! Likes do not help it get seen by other readers. 💕

Taglist: @sweetnspicy-noona @krystal-a @jennylychee

© 2023-24 by minisugakoobies. Crossposted to AO3. Please do not copy or repost. I do not allow translations of my work.

[randomingoftherandomness]

modern au whete zyc is a stripper and zyz is an older businessman whos at the club with work friends and is initially bored af until he sees zyc and goes hmmmmmm

A/N: I finally caught the bug that has been going around. So I was laid up for the better part of the weekend. I see the fic prompts in my inbox, so thanks everyone so kindly for sending them in! Sorry for the lack of fics from my end. I'm afraid this week will be very jam-packed on my end, but I shall endeavour to keep the fics coming :)

Enjoy this one!

--

Li Lun has always brought out the best and the worst of Zhu Yan. Lately, it has been a lot of the latter.

Friends since the moment they first met, they'd changed jobs together, climbed the corporate ladder, backstabbed and schemed their way to where they both are now -- titans of their industry who were both competitors and collaborators all the same. You couldn't speak one's name without mentioning the other, and it was just right too.

But twenty-five years of the hustle is, for better or worse, starting to weigh on him. He has seen it all.

The bloodthirst that is only slaked by a vicious takeover. Walking arm-in-arm into the most exclusive parties with the most beautiful people, tasting the best champagne and the best caviar, sleeping in the most expensive hotels that money can buy.

Zhu Yan has done it all. And he did it with Li Lun by his side.

It's another Friday. Another looming weekend that he has to stare down the barrel of, wondering what will it be this time -- a weekend he will lose to the sex and the drugs in the arms of someone his assistants will make sign ironclad NDAs before they make the hotel lobby? Or a weekend holed up in his giant penthouse watching something on his television without actually watching him.

He's about to leave his office when Li Lun slings an arm around his shoulders, talking his ear off about this new place one of the boys found. Zhu Yan is only half-listening, not even paying attention when he is steered towards the VIP parking spaces, parked in the passenger seat of his own car as Li Lun takes the wheel.

By the time he comes back to himself, Li Lun is laughing in his ear as the music swells along with the cheers of the crowd when the spotlight singles down on the stage.

There's a pole on the said stage, plenty of half-naked people playing the wait staff lingering around, and equally just as many dangerous-looking men in the perimeter of the room. Zhu Yan's not that slow as to not put two and two together.

He is about to turn to Li Lun, to ask him what's going on when the music stops and all lights but the spotlight turn off.

And out of the shadows, steps an angel.

He has nothing on but a silver thong and a pair of wings the colour of a raven's that sit dark and flared on his back. The hint of purples and blues glitter and shift as he walks into the light. But the first thing that Zhu Yan notes when the angel comes into full view is how everything else falls away at the sight of his beauty.

Slender and pale, there is a litheness in his body as he hypnotises the crowd with his walk. Dark hair slicked back, an alluring blush sits high on his cheekbones, accentuated by plump red lips that invite the most ardent of kisses.

Then, the angel tilts his face up to the light and opens his eyes.

They're the most stunning shade of blue. Contacts, perhaps, but to Zhu Yan it only serves to accentuate the almost cold aura the angel gives. The world hushes when he takes a hand to the pole and pulls himself into position.

He can vaguely feel Li Lun saying something into his ear and a drink being pressed into his hand, but to Zhu Yan, all that exists at that moment is the way the angel is dancing in the spotlight.

For a beat, Zhu Yan feels a deep sour twist in his gut when the men and women closest to his angel reach out for him. Clamouring, arms outstretched, they look like devotees worshipping their god. For another beat, Zhu Yan wishes he was there with them. On his knees in supplication, lips kissing the arch of his angel's feet.

The angel twirls, legs stretched showing off his incredible flexibility. Zhu Yan's eyes follow when he dismounts, rolling his hips, and tossing a look over his shoulders as he goes. It makes his heartbeat stutter and Zhu Yan realises that this is the first time in a long time that he can honestly say that he feels alive. Alive in the way that matters. Present, in the moment, no longer just a passenger in his own life.

With that in mind, even before his angel steps off his stage, Zhu Yan is calling the maître d over to make his introductions. Li Lun is raising his eyebrows at him, no doubt thinking about what he could tease him for come Monday, but Zhu Yan does not think that this will be something for the weekend.

No. Zhu Yan knows that he won't rest until his angel is his alone and no one else's. And as he leaves the glass of liquor that he has yet to drink from, ignoring the way Li Lun is calling him back, he has a feeling that he will do everything in his power to make sure that he at least knows his angel's name before the night is over.

[beansprean]

Oh, y'all thought the fight had started already?

My Familiar’s Ghost part 51

Masterpost

New pages on Patreon!

(ID in alt and under cut)

ID: 1a. Close up of bat Nandor from Guillermo’s POV, crushed into a wall and held there by Guillermo’s hand. One of Guillermo’s claws has pierced the membrane of his wing and Nandor is clutching at his fingers in terror, staring up with wide, panicked eyes. 1b. Reverse shot of vampire Guillermo from Nandor’s POV, holding him down with his left hand as his right rears back, claws bared in preparation to strike. He is grinning maliciously, relishing in a new kill. 1c. Wide shot from the side as there is a sudden screech of tires and crash of metal. Guillermo and Nandor freeze in place and whip their heads toward the viewer and the front windows of the Panera.

2a. Wide shot from outside, on a roadway running up a hill and parallel to the Panera. A blue hatchback car with a license plate that says ‘whoops’ and a bumper sticker that says ‘how’s my driving? 1-800-KISS-IT’ has crashed into a pole with a yellow traffic light and is smoking, front end crumpled and passenger window shattered. The pole is slowly falling sideways, towards the Panera parking lot below. 2b. Close up as the traffic light, yellow light still lit, smashes into the asphalt, cracking the green lens and ripping the blinders off the red lens. 2c. Repeat. The traffic light settles on its side, mostly intact, and flips to red. Unfocused without the blinders, red light pours freely across the ground. Nearly invisible red text behind reads “stop stop stop stop”. 2d. Repeat of 2c, Guillermo and Nandor still frozen in place but now bathed in red light. Guillermo is narrowing his eyes suspiciously at the scene outside and Nandor nervously flicks his eyes over to him, assessing.

3a. The entire Panera is now flooded in red. Shot from behind the pillar Nandor is pinned to as his leg, now human shaped again, kicks forcefully upward, sending Guillermo flying backward into the opposite wall, demolishing the sheetrock and destroying a wooden chair in the process. Debris flies everywhere. 3b. Waist up of Nandor, back in human form, as he stands himself up, his inner arm bleeding. He snarls angrily and points an accusing finger at Guillermo, saying ‘You want to fight? Fine! The truth is, I have been upset with you, too!’ 3c. Reverse shot of Guillermo struggling out of the ass-sized hole he made in the wall, fangs bared and deadly gaze focused on Nandor. Nandor continues from offscreen: ‘You get so angry when I don’t know things about you but then you don’t tell me anything!’ 3d. Close up on Guillermo’s hand closing around a broken wooden chair leg. 3e. Close up on Nandor’s hand closing around a wooden chair leg as he accuses, ‘You keep secrets!’

4a. Full body of Guillermo lifting himself from a crouch in the debris left by the wall, a long stake with a shattered pointy end clutched in his left hand. His eyes, like a predator, never leave Nandor. Nandor keeps talking: ‘You assume to know what I am thinking and how I will react to things and what I will say - well you don’t.’ 4b. Knees up of Nandor as he steps away from the crushed pillar to a more strategic place against the light, holding his own long stake point-up like a readied sword in front of him. He stares seriously at Guillermo and says, ‘You hear, but you never listen, Guillermo.’ 4c. Extreme close up on Nandor’s glaring eyes trailing a slash of red light as he makes a quick turn, shouting, ‘Well you will listen to me now!’ 4d. Full body wide shot on an orange and yellow starburst background as Guillermo, both hands on his makeshift sword, takes a backswing at Nandor. Nandor’s sword meets him in the middle as he swings it down single-handed in perfect form. Their eyes never leave the other’s; they’re both in the fight now. /end ID

[caption]

Bonus ID: shot through the shattered front windshield of the crashed car to show Laszlo in the passenger seat and Colin behind the wheel, both covered in broken glass and peeking out from behind inflated airbags. Colin asks, glasses askew on his face and grinning in his usual unflappable way, ‘How was that, Lazzo?’ Laszlo smiles patiently over at Colin and asks, ‘Marvelous work, my boy! Now, what possessed you to aim for this particular traffic signal?’ Colin replies, ‘I dunno, just had a feeling. Can we go for that Escalade next? I really want to see how sensitive that pedestrian detection feature is.’ The engine continues to smoke, and there are a few wisps of familiar blue light trailing away. /end ID

[shabbyshoebox]

Storybook Sweater - Grunkle Stan & Mabel Drabble

Stan softly held the sweater in his hands, delicately darning the hole back together. A fishing pole was embroidered onto the front, with a felt fish applique "hooked" on the line.

Mabel had left him the remnants of the original ball of yarn it was knit from, some yarn needles, and a handmade booklet on how to do "Swiss Darning" (complete with pop-ups, glitter, and contrasting layers of yarn carefully glued down to show each step).

-

"Pfff, I want you to actually wear it!" Mabel had said, plopping the bundle of items into Stan's arms. "It's going to get torn on your adventures and it's going to tell so many stories- OH." She cut herself off and scribbled in her notebook, 'Storybook sweater w/ turnable pages'.

"I'm going to ruin it," he said. He lifted up the handknit maroon sweater, running his fingers over the stitches.

"That's the point, Grunkle Stan!" She gestured excitedly, accidentally sending the notebook and pen off the table.

"I'm right in front of you, Sweetie. You don't have to-"

"Grunkle Stan." Mabel had grabbed his face in her sticky hands- Stan hoped that it was glitter glue. Her eyes remained fixed on his. "You are going to wear this sweater. You are going to rip it, and tear it, and stain it. It's going on adventures with you, and I better see something wrong with it the next time I see you!" She then dropped her voice to a whisper, "This is your storybook sweater!"

"My...My what now?"

"Each part you fix is proof that you lived through something. I want you to point at a patched hole and tell me if it was made by pirates or merllamas!" Her eyes sparkled. "Promise me you'll wear it?"

"I promise."

-

So far, nothing exciting had happened to the sweater. He had caught it on a door latch twice, had spilled coffee on it once. Currently he was fixing a hole made by friction with his belt.

Stan pulled the fresh maroon yarn through the next row, smiling to himself as he found a dried piece of glitter glue on the thread.

He would have a good sweater story for her eventually.

[discordiansamba]

back on my avatar zuko bullshit again.

thinking about sokka and katara tracing zuko's steps. they're both trying to figure out exactly what his plan is, because for all the world it looks like he's just traveling with out any purpose in mind. but that can't be it right? he's the avatar. he must have some idea of what he's doing.

(he in fact, does not)

then one day he just vanishes of the radar. they don't know the spirits told him to go crawl in some random hole and find a secret society of air nomads hidden from the rest of the world. they don't know he picked up both an airbending kid and a sky bison while in said hole. which means he's no longer traveling on foot. which makes him a lot harder track.

they finally get their breakthrough when they hear someone say the avatar is hiding towards the north pole. they get in touch with their dad, and he sends one of his ships to escort them there. and sure enough, when they get there, the avatar is, in fact, there. he looks at them like he wants to bolt at the sight of them, but apparently he can't do that this time. hah. now you're going to sit down and listen to us.

(he does not do that)