#sloane....did that

[celltheory]

i miss caring about sports in a fun way :( now i get more enjoyment listening to a podcast explaining the sinner doping case and widespread doping in tennis than i do watching tennis :( the denis and felix and bianca scores...depressing. the bianca/jasmine gigglefest at the net was SOOOO cute....but it's all so...pointless to me but not in a fun way. and i know not relating to posts on tumblr.com is not an actual problem in any sense but there is no community or fandom or whatever anymore. like my ao3 is so separate from here and the pairings/characters i am interested in are sooooo not popular at ALL and most of the comments are people asking for more or whatever and it's just! ah!

[cryptcoop]

You're the only one who understands me...

This illustration was made for Valeria Rodríguez (Venture's VA) to turn into prints !

[montrosepretty]

The tonal contrast between the boys vs. sloane and hurley in petals to the metal really gets me, especially because I like to imagine what it would be like if the focus was shifted. You have this tense lesbian drama with questions of power, control, and morality, one woman desperately trying to save her partner from unimaginable cosmic forces that have twisted her to the point where the former is not sure if she ever really knew the latter. and in the background you have three guys trying to hide a body

[samuelroukin]

BARRY SLOANE as Joe 'Bear' Graves in SIX (2017—2018) Episode 2.01 Critical

[nouveaumoon]

You’re cold as ice I wanna make you feel real nice I bet this song sounds real familiar

coping with it being almost 90 today by sketching my love, tattoos inspired by @klauw22

[raionmimi]

I feel like Symmetra would be up Venture's alley specifically because she wouldn't break their immersion if she was starring in a historical film

[a-most-beloved-fool]

sometimes in garashir fics, observers are inexplicably Really Happy for the couple, and Garak (used to being generally untrusted and ostracized) is like. hmm. that's unexpected, but i appreciate it! and doesn't really question it further

but i also think it would be funny to have people be super supportive and for Garak to go full paranoia-mode about it. "They must be lying, there must be a plot. They would never be this pleased to see the Doctor dating a former member of the Obsidian Order otherwise. Bashir is part of their plan, clearly, but is he in on it? What is their plan? Why is it so important that I date Bashir?" And then Garak starts desperately looking through all of the station's classified information and spying on officers, trying to find what bit of information he missed

In my heart, this fic is silly in spirit with a happy ending (and perhaps a very stunned and confused Garak, who is still trying to process the fact that people were genuinely happy for them and bashir really truly does want him), but it could also make for something very angsty, if people so pleased

[kissingarthurclaus]

The cutieeeee 🥺🥺💖💖💖

[theabstruseone]

With the announcement of the new movie starring Michelle Yeoh, it seems I have to go on my Section 31 rant again.

Section 31 was only done well in Deep Space Nine because the writers of Deep Space Nine understood that SECTION 31 ARE THE BAD GUYS.

They were used as a foil for the grey morality of the show as a warning of "This is where you will go if you continue on this path". Section 31 was the logical endpoint of the show's themes of sacrificing your ethics, morality, and principles in a pragmatic "the ends justify the means" mentality in order to defend those ethics, morals, and principles.

Because you CAN'T.

If you compromise your ethics, morals, and principles in an attempt to defend those very same things, what exactly are you defending? Things you yourself tossed aside when they became inconvenient.

All three (yes, there were only three) episodes of DS9 centering on Section 31 featured Bashir resolving the conflict of that episode WITHOUT compromising his integrity as a citizen of the Federation and a Starfleet officer.

Up to and including preventing Section 31 from committing genocide. Yeah, remember that? When Section 31 infected Odo with a degenerative virus so that he would spread it to the Great Link and kill all of the Changelings? Then specifically stonewalled Bashir when he attempted to find a cure?

Section 31 is not just a tool for telling happy funtime spy stories in Star Trek. That organization is called Starfleet Intelligence and was already around long before DS9. Section 31 is an unauthorized unelected black ops group that functions outside any chain of command or authority that can place any checks on their use and abuse of power. You know, just like EVERY OTHER evil Starfleet officer in every other episode where some Admiral goes off the deep end and starts doing shady shit the Enterprise then has to stop.

Section 31 are the bad guys. They are not antiheroes. They are not just the darker side of Starfleet. They are not the people who must do the evil things that have to be done. They are just evil. Period.

[useeer]

Dance with me?

Venture, aka Sloan Cameron x reader

You're at your friends wedding, and somehow meet the cutest damn person in the world.

Tags: fluff, strong language, slight sexual innuendo

Enjoy!!

[Note: I haven't written a fic in 192739 yrs, and my ass hasn't been to a wedding since I was 10 so forgive my ignorance abt how they go!!]

You weren't exactly a party person.

Parties are loud, crowded and really socially taxing. While yes, you'd attend parties here and there; mostly birthdays or accomplishments for friends and family. It still wasn't your favorite thing to do. You are actually pretty upfront with others about how little social interaction you can handle. That being said... fear of disappointing your friends usually got the better of you. They were fine, partying was fun. 

Honestly, you'd be lying to everyone if you said you weren't thinking about your soft, cozy bed. Or how you were daydreaming about cuddling up to your pets and watching silly videos. Not even this beautiful wedding could curb your introvert nature.

It's evening now, the golden rays barely peeking over the horizon as it descends. A sweet, cool autumn breeze blows, ruffling your clothes and hair. A welcome comfort on this warm night.

The setting is truly beautiful. Soft, golden glowing lanterns are strung along the edges of the venue. Lush green plants in decorative pots line the edges. The pillars, stone and brick, are painted in the gentle glow of the lamps and lanterns. The style...is Greek? At least you think it's Greek. If someone told you otherwise, though, you'd take their word for it. Especially since half the people here are from the Wayfinder Society, all attending as friends of the groom. The wayfinders are sprinkled around the venue, chatting about and having a grand old time.

You? No such luck, you're only attending for your friend, who happens to be the other groom. While you know a handful of people, and did polite chit chat with them, you mostly stuck to yourself. Actually, that's a lie, you mostly stuck to the snack table. You're leaning by the side of it, plate in hand, trying just about anything there. I mean, what else are you supposed to do? 

While eating a particularly good cube of cheese, you let your eyes wander the room. You see a group of people laughing, another group chattering amongst themselves, one enthusiastically waving their hands in the air, seemingly very passionate about the subject. You snort, amused. Drifting eyes finally move over to the husbands, who were talking to an older couple, a quick hug is given here and there. 

Man. You were bored.

You weren't trying to be disrespectful here, you just didn't know anyone. Subconsciously, your leg starts bouncing, your thoughts dance to your fluffy, comfy bed. Reaching down for another snack on your plate, you’re disappointed to see they're all gone. Frowning a bit, you look over the table to see if there's anything else you'd like to try.

And boy, was there. The chocolate hair, the hazel skin, your eyes instantly locked onto the person plating their own food. They're dressed in a white button down, and black slacks, the sleeves of their dress shirt hugging them favorably. They even had a cute little yellow bowtie on. You couldn't tell their pronouns, so you figure you'd ask if you ever spoke. Which you weren't, you didn't want to intrude. They looked to be the same person absolutely raving earlier, you'd hate to keep them from it.

If they wanna speak to me, they will. You thought distantly, watching their hands as they pluck up a cupcake. 

Workers' hands. You mused, they seemed rough, and strong. They must be one of those Wayfinders. Your eyes trail their fingers, the back of their hand, man...they have really nice hands. Unbeknownst to you, your staring hasn't gone unnoticed. Their hands stills, just before the confectionery hits the plate. 

"Uhm... did you want this one?" They ask someone, curious, you look up to see who they're talking to. You finally get to see their face properly, and man they're gorgeous. Too bad you didn't have time to appreciate that fact, as your eyes instantly locked with theirs. You realize a little too late that you're the one they're talking to.

"Huh." Is all you manage to get out, unsure what the fuck to say to this stranger.

"The...cupcake?" They say, motioning it towards you. "Did you want it? You're staring at it like you want it." They say, clearly confused by the way you ogled their food.

"No- no I don't want it. I'm so sorry, ignore me." You cover your face and wave a hand in their direction, this is the worst thing you've ever done. Your face and ears burn in red hot embarrassment, you're just lucky they thought all you wanted was the damn cupcake.

They seem to find it a little funny now, how you're running away from the cupcake you were practically stalking as it left the platter. "Okayyyy, well then this is mine!" They joke, putting it onto their plate before strutting away, seemingly unperturbed by your god awful screw up.

God, you needed to sit down. 

You're practically on fire, feeling like you're gonna break into a sweat. Shakily, you find a chair in a less populated area and take a seat. You bend over, putting your face in your hands and elbows on your knees, as if trying to hide yourself. While you know, reasonably, that this isn't the end of the world, you can't help but feel like it is. You got caught! Red handed! 

Yes, they thought it was the cupcake, so maybe you weren't totally fucked. But also, you're totally fucked who are you kidding?!

You didn't exactly think you'd interact with them before, but it's awful your only interaction was weird and unseemly on your end. Groaning quietly, you remove one hand from your face to fan yourself, damn you feel stupid. 

You fan open part of your outfit, hoping in vain to let more air in to cool yourself down. Freaking out like this isn't a good look. After a couple minutes, you start to feel a little better. The flush of your cheeks is fading, and you miraculously avoided breaking into an anxious sweat. 

Sighing, you puff out your lips, you just sent texts to your closest friend about how massively you fumbled the bag. They laughed at you, while you scream-spammed the chat in horror. They did end up reassuring you that you were overreacting, that it was not in fact the end of the world. You thanked them before turning off your phone. You get up, dust yourself off a little before wandering back to the food table; finding yourself in front of the disposable drink cups, grabbing one. Gazing to the left, you find the water. You watch the water slowly drizzle into your cup, before downing the glass in a couple large gulps. Still thirsty, you fill it up again before returning to your seat.

Man, what a day, go to a beautiful wedding, see your friend get married, then fumble the biggest bag ever. You mentally kick yourself, even though on the outside, you look completely normal, sipping on your cup naturally.

Bouncing your foot a bit, you lean forward to scroll on your phone, hoping to find something interesting to pass the time and distract you. You're scrolling for about 5 minutes before someone sits next to you. Out of politeness you don't look, thinking it's another guest needing a seat. 

"Soo, about that cupcake. I ate it, definitely. But I felt a little bad. Here." The person next to you says, snapping you out of your doom scrolling. 

Why. Why why why. Is all you can think. They're fucking with you, haunting you. All over a cupcake. You look over and see they've got a small plate with another damn cupcake on it.

"Oh im- I'm not hungry anymore, thanks though." You try to nicely deflect, hoping they'll catch the hint and let you die in shame, alone. 

"Hmm, okay!" They say, they turn to face forward, unwrapping it for themself. They take a bite and bounce one of their legs, and you wonder why they're torturing you. They hum to themself as they continue to eat.

God. Please just go away...

They put their plate down and dust their hands, somehow already finishing the sickeningly sweet treat. "So." They state, placing both hands on either side of their seat, leaning forward, looking towards you. "Whatcha doing over here all by yourself?" They ask curiously.

"Well uh-" You clear your throat, "My friend’s the groom, it's his wedding. But I don't really know anyone else but him." You shrug, trying to relax and ease into conversation with them.

"Yeah, know how that feels." They say, sympathetically. "Wellll." They draw out the word, as if to emphasize it. "I was thinkin’ you could come to our table! I hate seeing anyone left out." Their smile is reassuring, until they start smirking. "Even. If. They stare at other people's food." 

Ok, you can't help it. You groan at their jab, while dragging a hand down your face. "Man, you will not drop that, huh?" You say, only a little less embarrassed this time. 

"Nope!" They tease, clearly getting a kick outta this. 

"You know what, I barely know you and you're already the worst." You joke, and your brain nearly breaks in two when they giggle at it. Their shoulders shake and they grin, still looking at you. You can't help but smile, even while trying really hard not to. They were stunning, cute and worst of all, infuriating. 

"Sorry for staring earlier...I was trying to see... your cufflinks." You say, clearly lying. As if desperately attempting to get out of the cupcake joke jail.

"Hmmm." They hum, unbelieving, eyebrows raised and nodding. "Well, too bad I don't have those." They smile, raising a hand up to show off their sleeve. 

You instantly cringe, caught once again. "Oh right." You mumble out, pursing your lips. Damn, you're fighting for your fucking life over here.

Your reaction makes them laugh. An honest to god laugh, and it's loud. They're finding WAY too much amusement in proving you wrong and you don't know why. Despite the embarrassment, you were now enjoying yourself. Talking to them, joking around, even if it's at your expense. Their laugh is almost contagious, and they've got the prettiest smile you've ever seen. 

"So.. what's your name?" You ask, your left hand fiddling anxiously at your side. Their laugh simmers down, and they sigh like they just heard the funniest joke in the world.

They hold their hand out towards you, "Sloane, yours?" You grab their hand and shake it, their grip firm. Your brain almost short circuits, realizing how much larger their hand is to yours. You say your name, and they repeat it. 

 

"It's nice to meet you!" They say, shaking your hand once more before letting it go.

"Sloane is a really pretty name." You state, trying to make conversation. Totally, 100% not flirting with them, of course.

"Awe shucks, you think so? Well I like yours too." They shoot back, their cheerful glow never dropping. They look over, and you do the same. You see them eyeing the table they came from. It appears someone stole their seat. 

"Oh, I'm sorry." You immediately apologize, feeling bad that their place was taken while talking to you. They shake their head and huff a little laugh, their curly hair bouncing. 

"Why're you sorry? Don't be. Plus, it's no biggie." They say nonchalantly, genuinely unphased. They crack a smile and lean forward, as if they're sharing a secret. "Don't worry, I'll get back at them." They whisper, a mischievous gleam in their eyes.

You giggle, and pull back a little. "What're you gonna do huh?"

They pull an inquisitive face, staring up at the ceiling almost performatively. "I dunno! Maybe I'll put confetti in all of their tents!" They announce, toying with the idea. You couldn't tell if they're serious or not. 

"You probably shouldn't do that." You jokingly warn, thinking abt how much of a pain confetti would be to get out of a tent. Much less the sleeping bags. 

Sloane grins, shining that gorgeous smile again. They seem to be the happiest person in the world. "Well, that's what they get for kicking me out of my own seat!"

You shake your head and let out a small chuckle, "You really are something."

They push you by the shoulder a bit, "I'm a great something I'll have you know." They joke, before settling back in their seat. 

Silence settles over the two of you for a bit, and it nearly becomes unbearable. That is until music begins to play. The lights towards the middle of the room light up, and the rest are dimmed to create a spotlight effect. The happy couple's chosen song is playing, and you watch as they approach the center of the room, beginning to dance. You smile, and awe at the sight. Seeing your friend so happy and glowing was truly a treat.

Sloane also watches, they love parties and weddings. Seeing two people so in love is one of life's many treasures. They look over towards you and see you recording your friends dance, they allow a small smile creep onto their face. They admire your side profile and the way your hair compliments you perfectly. You are eye-catching, and the way you practically folded over a cupcake earlier was hilarious. They love funny things, so they've GOT to get to know you. Exploring is one of their favorite things after all. 

They settle back and turn their attention to the dance. Eventually the music begins to wind down, and one of the grooms leaves the dance floor. It's the parents' dance, they think. Now that it isn't your friend out there, you click off the record button and look over to Sloane.

"So, what brings you here?" You ask, making conversation with them. They turn their head to face you, their hands loosely clasped together on their lap. 

"I'm from the wayfinders society! The other groom, Rey, is my good friend." They chirp, pointing at your friends now husband. "Y’know, me and him got lost once in a cave! Scary stuff, didn't know if we'd make it out." They said dramatically, waggling their fingers in your direction. 

"You serious??" You furrow your brow, and lean forward incredulously. Their warm dark eyes look back to their friend, and they nod. "Yeah, it was a couple years ago. We lost sight of our team, and couldn't find our way out. I ended up drilling us a new exit. Real risky doing that but we didn't have a choice." Sloane recounts, "Could've been worse!" They add, trying to lighten the mood a bit.

"That's crazy, I could never do anything like that." You tap your foot against the ground, even thinking about that type of stuff gets you wound up.

They turn back to you with a hum and smile, "Well, you never know until you try! Exploring is the best thing I've ever done for myself, I love it. Seeing what the world was like before us… finding the rocks and gems the earth has made. It's real worth it." Their passion is evident, every word they speak has them glowing. You admit it's rather charming, seeing them so in love with their work. 

"Man, that's so cool." You state warmly. "You got a really cool job, Sloane. You got the job little kids dream of." 

They smile genuinely, really happy with the thought. "Well my abuela always said to follow your dreams, so I did. What about you? What's your dream?" They gently nudge your shoe with theirs.

"Hmmm, well. I guess I'm still trying to figure that out." You hum, looking at the ground. Your interests aren't nearly as exciting as theirs. Working one dead end job to the next, just trying to make ends meet. "Thinking tattooing, honestly." You add, looking up at them.

Sloane gasps, eyes widening. "That's so awesome though! I love tattoos, I've got at least four or five." They pull down the collar of their button down to reveal more of the flames tattooed across their neck. You'd be lying if you said you hadn't already noticed it. Wanting to see how far down it goes.

Quickly, you bat those thoughts away. Sticking to complimenting the line work and blocking of their tattoo. You ask what others they've got, and they explain all the patchwork they've got done on their arms. Some historical, some cool, some just to have a piece of the places they've been. They even mention a larger one on their thigh, a dinosaur skull with flowers. You try not to sound too interested in seeing them while asking if they have pictures. 

The conversation between you and Sloane runs smoothly, chattering about your lives and cracking jokes at one another's expense. The dancing at the party is now in full swing, guests of all types littering the dance floor. It's now completely dark outside, save for the lighting inside the venue. The lamps hanging from the ceiling are dimly glowing, the lanterns now back to their full glow. You even spot fireflies outside the venue, blinking on and off, flying into the wedding space and out. The place is truly beautiful.

The strumming of a bass fills the venue, an electronic guitar complimenting it perfectly. You recognize it instantly, as it's a song you've come to enjoy. Your new friend, Sloane, practically jumps out of their skin in excitement. They quickly whip their head to look at you while whisper shouting, "I love this song!!"

They bolt up, staring at the dance floor as both their feet hit the ground with a soft thud. They twirl their whole body around, looking at you with an outstretched hand, "Come dance with me??" They frantically blurt out.

You look dumbly at Sloane before slinking back into your chair a bit, cringing. "No no- I don't dance." While waving a hand in their direction dismissively. You're hesitant and it's obvious. The idea of getting in the middle of a bunch of people and dancing. God, not what you were made for.

You were telling the truth, you don't dance! Anyone seeing you attempt to dance may need an ambulance. Sloane slumps by your reaction, and pokes conversationally, "Aww c’monnn, pretty please? With cherries on top? One song?" They say, leaning backwards a bit on the heels of their feet while keeping their upper body forward. They begin pouting a lip out and sporting their best puppy dog eyes, hoping it'll help sway their case. 

Nervously, you rub your pointer finger across your thumb. This is not what I signed up for, you think as your lips form a line, eyes locking with Sloanes, trying to will yourself into saying no.

Damn.

You can't. You can't say no! You know you'd kick yourself later if you left without dancing with them. They're everything you like in someone, striking, funny, passionate... You internally groan, searching their dark eyes for a way out. Sadly, there isn't one. Their eyes only plead and beg.

And well... who are you to deny them?

Breathing in a deep, deep sigh, you fold, "Okayy. Okay." You say, holding both hands up, signaling defeat.

Sloane is about to shout out a glorious, loud YES before you cut them off with a finger up. "But first, a shot of liquid courage." You say, pushing yourself up from your chair, walking towards the end of the food table. There lay countless plastic shot glasses full of vodka. You pluck one from the rim of the platter.

Sloane watches as you down the drink, admiring the way your throat moves to swallow. They snort when they see you pulling a face.

"C'mon- c'mon- the song is already going." They bounce, having to fight the urge to just drag you onto the dance floor themself. Shaking your head, you wipe away the grimace on your face and discard the tiny shot glass into the nearby garbage.

They grab your hand and pull you into the crowd, though they seem somewhat aware of your aversion to it. So they lead you towards a less populated end of the floor, despite this, nearly everyone at the wedding was dancing. So you were still around a decent amount of people. They smile wide, looking off into the gaggle of party goers. You find it ironic this is the song you're dancing to, the lyrics playing loudly.

We've got nowhere to go

We've got nothing to prove

Instead of dancing alone

I should be dancing with you

The lyrics are slightly erotic, even, but you don't have much time to ponder it when they turn back to face you. They release your hand, before snapping their fingers in tune with the beat and swaying their hips. You giggle, your cheeks and stomach buzzing from the alcohol. Unfortunately for Sloane, you do not know how to dance. Not well at least, they laugh, watching you sway awkwardly. "You don't dance do you?" They ask, almost having to shout to be heard over the clamor of people and music.

"No, not really!" You reply, before admitting, "I don't wanna look dumb!" 

"Look dumb?! I'll show you dumb." They jest, backing up a bit to give themself some space. With their eyes locked onto yours, they bend their knees while bringing their right hand towards their head, palm open. They're walking towards you sideways, left hand swiping back and forth to their side and front. You about shit yourself, recoiling in shock and laughing. They continue though, bringing both hands up in fists towards their head, pumping them as they shake their hips, still approaching you. 

"What are you doing!!" You shout, cracking up at their absurdity. They finally pivot fully towards you, bending forward and moving their hands in circles. They finish off their charade with a performative strut your way, palms open in a dramatic walk. 

They laugh, grabbing one of your hands and pulling you further into the floor. "I'm dancing!! You should try it sometime!" They jive, sticking their tongue out. "I'm just saying, no one can look sillier than me!" You roll your eyes and shake your head. The smile never leaving your face.

They grab your other hand and start dancing for you, swaying you side to side. You can't help but giggle, letting them have their fun. You sway your hips and release their hands, moving yours back, snapping your fingers while doing circles and stepping side to side. Their grin widens and they yell, "Hell yeah! get it!!" Encouraging you. 

Smiling big, you continue attempting to dance with them. Sloane closes their eyes and lets themself feel the music, they move their feet expertly, and their arm movements intentionally. Seeing this makes you realize they definitely know how to dance. Your eyes explore them, their body and the way they move. It feels dirty watching them like this…But they invited you to dance, you think maybe they want you to watch them. Enjoy them, drink them up. 

It feels as though they've already wrapped you around their finger. You feel sadness bubble that the song is already ending. Luckily the next song that plays doesn't disappoint, more bass-y than the last. This one still just as popular as the day it released. 

You let yourself loosen, swaying your full body in rhythm with the bass as the song goes on. Sloane is looking at you again, and you daringly strut around them, stepping in beat with the drums. Alcohol does wonders for self esteem. They wait for you to come back around before stepping close, pulling you in by the hand. You raise an eyebrow, checking them with a grin, before gleefully walking back, shuffling your feet in tune with the music then pulling them towards you. They follow excitedly, their foot work impressive as they step towards you. They raise your held hand up as they approach and you twirl around to face them once more. Confidence runs through you at this point, letting go of the hand above you. You bring your free hand up quickly, placing it on their chest before grabbing their opposite hand. They're grinning so hard, pulling back, until your arms are taunt. Then jerking you towards them, you turn so your back hits their chest. Sloane has one hand around your front, hugging you just beneath your chest. The other holding your hip, their head resting next to yours. You both just sway now, enjoying each other's company and the music. "This okay?" They ask in your ear, the tone in their voice dropping low.

"Huh?" You say loudly, turning to face them. 

"I asked if this is okay!" They announced a little louder, and closer to your ear.

"Yeah!" You affirm happily, like this is the best day of your life. 

Do I wanna know?

If these feelings flow both ways.

Sad to see you go.

Sorta hoping that you'd stay.

Baby we both know.

That the nights were mainly made for sayin' things.

That you can't say tomorrow day.

Dancing with them like this, swaying side to side feels almost romantic. And you're having a really hard time ignoring that fact. That coupled with your already burning attraction has you dizzy. You could stay here forever. Another song passes by, and you both continue dancing with one another. At one point, you fumble through a waltz before they twirl and dip you. Despite having the time of your life, exhaustion was quickly catching up. Feeling a bit hot, and tired, holding both their hands, you turn around.

Looking up at Sloane, you truly get to admire their beauty. They've got beautiful curls, swooping and gentle. Their hair is natural, soft looking, and when you danced you could even smell their shampoo. Their eyes are a deep brown, rich like the dirt they so love digging through. You finally notice their eyebrow piercing as well, and you bite your lip. It suits them. You think. 

The longer you analyze their features, you wonder how the hell they're even real. How someone could look as perfect as them, be as charming as them. It nearly drives you mad. They smile a little, their eyes darting away. Their flushed cheeks grow a little redder at your prolonged staring. You smile a little, this is the first time you've seen them at least a little bashful. It's adorable.

The music is playing quietly now, seeing as most of the guests vacated the dance floor. Only a few stragglers are left, you included. So now you can properly talk to them.

"You know earlier... I wasn't exactly looking at the cupcakes…” You purse your lips, and squint your eyes, as if to will yourself to get the words out.

“I was staring at you." You chew your lip, looking away shyly. This confession could make or break this… whatever this is. You certainly don't wanna break it. While nervous, you had a feeling they would respond positively.

Their eyes snap back towards you, and they let themself smile, raising an eyebrow. "Ohhh, I'm that pretty, huh?" They tease.

You sigh and roll your eyes, they really are such a bastard. "Yeah yeah, whatever." You mutter, playfully pushing their shoulder. Not risking stroking their ego any further.

"No no, tell me, was it the bowtie?" They snicker, pushing their chest out a bit to really show it off. 

You shake your head, running your hands up from their own and readjusting their accessory. “Yes, it was the bowtie, all I wanted was you, bowtie.” You whisper at their chest, pulling the sides of the bow.

“Psh,” They chuckle, “Okay for real! What was it, huh?” They say, flashing their signature grin while raising their eyebrows suggestively. Perhaps telling them was a bad idea, you purse your lips again, realizing they'll bother you forever until you tell them. It seems like they're DYING to know.

You hum, dropping your head onto their chest. With one hand still on their chest, you let your other trail down their arm before grasping theirs, bringing it up towards you. Flipping it palm up, you let your free hand lightly touch their palm. "Your hands, I like them. I was looking at them." Dragging your fingers along their palm, you feel every callous and rough patch of skin. You turn them over to admire their nail polish and knuckles. You even start to massage in-between their fingers, just soaking up the fact that you can touch them like this, and they're allowing you to.

They seem to be at a loss for words, and you figure that doesn't happen too often. Smiling, you walk your fingers up their arm and to their shoulder to rest it there, bringing your other arm up to mirror it. Their hands come up to your waist and bring you close. While enjoying the embrace, you weren't expecting them to shake you and hug you in tightly. They groan into your shoulder, as if frustrated. You puff out a laugh at their weirdness. 

"Sorry- you're just so cute." They say, pulling back. "I just met you and you already got me in stitches." They admit, kicking the dirt by your feet. You figure instant attraction to a stranger is just as new to you as it is to them.

"Well..." You start, not even sure what to say. "We can… go back to my room? I'm staying at a hotel nearby. We can hang out, talk...see where it takes us?" Your voice raises at the end of your sentence, as if a little worried they'll say no. That's another lie, you were a LOT worried they'll say no, denying you any more of their time.

Your anxiety is evident as your eyes search their face for a clue, a glimmer of what they might say. Of what they could be thinking. 

Sloane looks at you with tenderness. Such sweetness you could melt. They bring a hand up to cup the side of your face, rubbing their thumb across it. "I'd like that." They say, their voice seems to tighten as if they're both excited and nervous about the proposition.

Yeah, usually parties suck. But this one? This one was amazing.

[skeletonnerdy]

Venture Procreate doodle,,

They're back!! I'm so excited for them, I'm updating Overwatch rn. When I first saw their design, I thought their belt straps looked like rock climbing gear, and I thought it was cool. I like how detailed the straps are, even tho they're kinda a pain in the ass to draw.

[hawthornesbiggestfan]

so upset that nobody talks/writes about the naturals enough. the entire series was so good and im so sad that i have to let go :(

[youngpettyqueen]

I need to talk about Julian's whole thing with Sloan in Extreme Measures cause it does actually make me feel a certain kind of rabid

Extreme Measures is a great episode for the Julian/Miles dynamic and has a lot of great moments with them but I think an underrated element of the episode is how it very plainly shows just how much the Dominion War has changed Julian, and how his morals have shifted into a much greyer area

Julian in this episode is very callous towards Sloan even as he's literally dying. he has no issues violating Sloan's mind, and when Sloan dies, the only reason he actually cares is because the answers and secrets Sloan has will die with him. truly cannot emphasize enough just how deeply Julian fucking hates Sloan, and sheer hatred isnt something we really see all that much from Julian, especially not to the degree he was with Sloan

even with that, though, Julian has never been like that with another patient. Julian doesnt let his personal feelings get in the way of being a doctor, and always treats his patients with the utmost care and his best work. Julian was willing to find a cure for the Jem'Hadar's addiction, simply because they asked for help, even if it meant potentially making them into a much bigger threat than they already were. Julian treated Tain in Camp 371. and, sure, Julian does treat Sloan, but he does so explicitly because Sloan has information they need, not because he has any care for Sloan's life

and I think that- his willingness to violate Sloan's mind to get what they need, and how he didn't particularly care that Sloan died- is a really bleak look at just how much the war has changed Julian and how much it's shifted his moral compass. throughout the war, Julian has been ordered time and time again to compromise his morals. add to that several traumatic events- multiple of which are orchestrated by Sloan- and a slide into deep depression, and it's no wonder he gets to a point where he can do the things he does in this episode

and I dont think it hits him until much later. I think one day, long after the war has ended and theyre still rebuilding everything that was broken, Julian lays awake at night and remembers how bad it got and what he became willing to do, and it makes him sick to his stomach

[samuelroukin]

BARRY SLOANE as Joe 'Bear' Graves in SIX (2017—2018) Episode 2.01 Critical

[venture4treasure]

“It’s like Drowning”

Words: 1516

Premise: Suicidal!Reader makes an attempt at taking their own life. Venture is there and does their best to make things better. 

Warnings: Suicide Attempt, Mental breakdown, Drowning, Self-deprecation, Hospital

Venture sat in a chair pulled up beside your hospital bed. They rested their head on the bed rails and tucked their hand underneath their head. They stared at your sleeping form. According to the doctors, you were stable and you just needed to wake up. And you had woken up a couple of times, the nurses said – you’d woken up and gone right back to sleep is what your vitals had indicated. 

Each time you stirred, Venture would sit up, hopeful that you’d finally want to wake up. It took an incredible amount of self-control for them to not shake you or crack a joke to get you to open your eyes. But they figured you’d been through so much already, that you should just wake up on your own time. So, they waited. 

They took brief breaks from all but guarding your bed to take care of themselves – because you hated when they were ever sacrificing their health for you. They also routinely brought more and more of your plushies, pillows, and blankets to you. They placed them around you on your bed so when you woke up, it’d be a little less like a hospital and maybe a little more like home. Especially, if you woke up when they weren’t around, they needed you to know you were on their mind and they were thinking about you. And that you aren’t alone. 

Right now, there was nothing left to do. The moon hung high in the sky and lit up the room. The lights of your room had long been turned off for the night. They reached to rest their hand atop yours, and thank god your hands are warm. Because despite what machines can tell them, the warmth of your body and breath will always be more reassuring. They cringe as memories of that night resurface in their mind. 

They had felt something was off – something was really off. In their heart, they knew they had to check on you, they had to see you. When they’d rushed home, they found your scrawled notes and apologies in a handwriting messier than usual and they knew. They called 911 in a heartbeat, shared everything they could about your possible whereabouts and then immediately threw on a jacket to find you. 

You had taken a jump off a nearby railroad bridge, you’d left your phone and coat there. Venture had found your items and took to immediately scaling down the side of the valley to get to the river shore. It wasn’t the safest maneuver, but traversing rocky terrain is part of their job and they were willing to risk it for you. They also updated the authorities on the situation. 

They found you first, and you were so cold. The frigid wind and water didn’t help at all. Without missing a beat, they wrapped you in their coat and began chest compressions. When you finally coughed up water, albeit reactively instead of consciously, and took some shallow breaths. They almost cried. 

You were rushed away in an ambulance, nurses and doctors told them they had done everything right, and if they hadn’t acted, you probably wouldn’t have survived. It made them shudder, the idea that if they had just swept aside their gut instinct the whole situation would have been very different.

Venture was startled back to the present when they felt your hand close around theirs. 

You made a series of wordless noises, your face scrunching up in discomfort. Venture gently squeezes your hand back, silently encouraging you to try and wake up. 

You eventually blink awake after struggling with the gross feeling of consciousness. You’re met with the blank ceiling of the hospital room, you recognize those lights and groan. You notice the familiar plushies at the edge of your vision and turn to take a better look at them. Venture catches your gaze and they smile brightly. 

“Hi,” they excitedly greet, trying to keep the volume of their voice down. 

You try to respond, but it comes out as unintelligible mumbling and eventually coughing. Venture immediately helps you sit up and holds a bottle of water for you to drink. 

“I’m sorry…” you eventually decide to say, hands nervously holding the water bottle in your lap. You can’t bring yourself to meet their eyes.

“No apologies, I’m just glad you’re here,” they smile softly. 

“I just-”

Venture hushes you, stepping across the room to retrieve and microwave a takeout container for you. When they return to your side with the warm food and utensils, you stare at them in disbelief and guilt. 

“It’s your favourite,” they add. 

You held the warm container, letting the heat seep into your hands. 

“I don’t deserve this”.

“Yes you do,” Venture corrects, “eat something, it’ll make you feel better. And then we can talk about whatever you want, okay?” Despite it being phrased as a question, you can tell there’s no changing their mind.

The food tastes amazing, you didn’t realize how starved you were until you started eating. While you ate, Venture pulled out their phone to show you pictures and share some stories. 

“My old coworker got a cat and sent me this picture of her, she’s so silly,” Venture laughs, showing you the picture of an orange cat, sprawled out on her back with her paws in the air.

You giggle a bit at the cat and Venture visibly brightens hearing your laugh. It encouraged them to look for even more cat-related pictures on their phone. 

They show you a video of a beautiful cat walking down a sidewalk while being cast in the golden light of a sunset. 

“I saved this one cause it reminded me of you!” 

“Flatterer,” you huff lightheartedly. 

“It’s true!” Venture insists. They began to point out all the similarities between you and this cat for the rest of the time you ate. 

By the time you were done eating, your face burned with embarrassment and hurt from smiling. Venture has never failed to surprise you with all the things they adore about you – you don’t even think about half the things they mentioned. 

You finished about half the meal, before calling it. You set the takeout on your bedside table and picked up a plushie, placing it in your lap and playing with it absentmindedly as your smile faded. Venture could tell the change in the air and set aside their phone to give you their attention. 

“I just felt so empty. Like there was no direction in my life at all. All my friends are chasing their dreams, and I don’t even have one. And you,” you glance up at Venture, “you are living your dream, your passion for archeology is so infectious”.  

You take a shaky breath, “and what do I have? I work a meaningless nine-to-five, it doesn’t even pay that well. All I do is force myself to get through the empty days to get to the moments where I can spend them with friends or you”. 

“I’m so tired,” you cry, tears dripping onto your hospital gown, “it doesn’t feel worth it some days- like, when I get to be happy, I’m so happy and it feels worth it. But every day in between is so miserable and…” your words dissolve into sobs. 

Venture leans over to hold you the best they can over the bed railing, they trace shapes on your back to comfort you as you cry into them. Their heart breaks hearing you cry, and their mind races with possible solutions to your problem. Realistically, they know they can’t help you to the extent you need – they’re not a medical professional. But they think they can make you feel better at least. 

When your crying slows down, you pull away, wiping your eyes with your arm. You apologize again. 

Venture reaches for your hand, holding it with care. 

“What if you came to my expeditions with me?” They silenced the alarm in their brain telling them their job is not safe – clearly, you weren’t safe here either. 

“It’s not the most comfortable place to be living, and we hardly have any luxury compared to city life, but you’d be able to see me every day!” they start to ramble, “and I don’t mean that as in I need to see you because I don’t trust you… I just think maybe you’d find it more bearable”.

You stare at them in awe, that did sound nice. 

“I would like to, but,” you think out loud, airing out your anxieties. 

“I wouldn’t have a job”.

“I can pay for everything, if you’re comfortable with that”. 

“You work with a team”.

“My crew would be happy to have you! Promise!” 

“What if I don’t like it- I mean, I think I would, but…”

“Then we will try something else, nothing is permanent”. 

You soon run out of qualms to have with their plan, “my therapist won't like this idea.” 

“I’m sure she can be convinced,” Venture grins. 

You sniffle a laugh, “Okay, okay. You win. You make a compelling argument”. 

Author’s Note: You’re technically supposed to remove all wet clothing from a person to prevent hypothermia, but I did not know how to write that in, so I guess Venture just did not know better. 

The pain of realizing a few scenes and wanting to write about them, but also having to write everything in between. Also, this was meant to be a couple hundred works max, I just can’t help it.

[4st4rion]

we could grow

ao3 link

i was having a Time and just needed to write about astarion not feeling pressured into sex so. you can see this as an alternate take on his first scene or a 'deleted' scene before that one

1.4k, fully gender neutral tav. rated mature+. has him feeding from you then lots of kissing and mild spiciness. second person pov and no spoilers

His teeth hurt so badly you want to scream as they pierce your flesh, scraping nerve endings and puncturing just right to open your veins to him.

First, it hurts, it hurts, but then there's... Something else. A gentle numbing that spreads from your neck across your chest and into your belly, slowly becoming something else as it takes effect.

His moan is muffled into your skin when he sucks another mouthful of blood from you.

You gather the strength to reach up, threading your fingers into his hair, but instead of yanking him off of you like you should, you hold him close.

He adjusts on his knees — he knelt beside you when you 'got comfortable' for him to feed, but now, he straddles you slowly. You could stop him, but you don't, and he buries his face harder into your neck like a nuzzling.

His tongue laps over the bite wounds in your skin and your breath catches; you almost make a noise, but you're too aware of him on top of you to relax and let it out. You can't stop shaking, either, although you can hardly be blamed for that when you're having the blood stolen from your body.

The hand that isn't in Astarion's hair reaches up to pet down his side, settling eventually on his hip, and you hold him there, too, bringing him as close as you can.

He's hard.

You feel it through your shirt, bulge pressing against your belly where he lays over you like a lazy creature, relaxing all his weight onto you as he drinks. You're distantly aware of him removing his fangs and licking, kissing, mouthing over the bite to help stop the bleeding and help it heal, and once he's satisfied, he lays over you completely.

He feels denser than he did, and you suppose that's you, reinvigorating him from the inside out.

He breathes a shaky sigh with his head resting over your shoulder, his thirst sated.

There's a moment of hesitation before his mouth returns — this time, he peppers sweet kisses over your throat and up toward your ear like a lover.

"Do you want me?" he asks against your jaw.

Gods, yes, of course you do, but is this really a good idea? Whatever he has in mind involves putting his horny against yours, and you're already not thinking straight from the blood loss.

"Tell me," he breathes against your ear, and you shudder under him.

"Yes," you admit.

He grinds his hips slow and deliberate into you.

"How badly do you want me?" he whispers, absolutely devilish, and you can hear the smug smirk in his voice.

"Bad enough to tolerate your smart ass," you whisper back, trying to be witty, but his hands have started roaming down your sides. Despite that, he laughs, and nips at your cheek in lieu of a kiss.

You can't do this here. You're barely feet away from the rest of your companions.

"Get off of me," you say, pushing at his hip and pulling at his hair.

He tenses over you like he thinks you're rejecting him, but you squeeze his hip under your hand.

"Let's go somewhere more private."

The two of you stumble like drunks up the river until you find a suitable clearing, collapsing into the dirt together.

"May I —?"

"Kiss me, yeah," you groan, as he puts you on your back and tangles your legs together.

His mouth tastes like blood, but you can't bring yourself to care. He kisses you with desperation you've neither seen nor felt before, whimpering into every clash of your lips as though it could be the last. His hands wander under your clothes and squeeze at your chest and your waist and your hips, and you laugh against his mouth.

"Slow down," you breathe, even as you hungrily watch him pull his shirt off and place it beside you.

"Must I?" he asks, only half joking.

"I don't want to rush this," you admit.

"In no hurry to regret me in the morning?" he teases, and leans in for another kiss, but you stop him with a gentle hand against his cool chest.

"I won't regret this in the morning," you say cautiously. "Will you?"

He frowns, like he hadn't considered it.

You sit up a bit and he backs off, kneeling with one knee between yours and the other near your hip.

"You do know I like you, don't you?" you ask, head cocked. "I enjoy your company. I wouldn't... This wouldn't be happening if I didn't like you as a person."

His frown gets deeper, like you've said the wrong thing, and now you frown, too.

"Is that not okay?" you ask.

He seems to snap out of it.

"I was only joking," he backpedals. "I've been more than one person's regret in my time," he 'jokes' again, but his smile doesn't reach his eyes.

He tries to kiss you again, continue things, but you push at his chest and keep him back.

"Hey," you say, as gently as you can manage. "Maybe we shouldn't go any further if we're not on the same page," you suggest, as much as you hate the thought of stopping and as much as something twists in your chest at the idea that he's truly not into you.

"No," he says quickly, "I — I'm sorry," he sighs. "It's been a while since I did this for fun," he scoffs.

"What does that mean?" you ask before you can stop yourself, and it's like the entire forest goes silent around you.

"I already told you I was Cazador's slave for the last two hundred years," he frowns. "Can't we leave it at that?"

The implications there are... Disturbing. Does he mean Cazador did things to him? Or made him do things? Or both? Neither?

"Hey," you say again. "Seriously. If you're not comfortable, I don't want to do anything."

He swallows.

He sits back on his heels.

"Okay," he says, so quiet you have to read his lips. "I'm sorry for the misunderstanding. I'll go."

You frown again. Tonight has become a back-and-forth of frowning, and you wish it hadn't.

"Astarion," you say, and he looks you in the eye for the first time in minutes. "What do you want?"

He breaks eye contact again, glancing between the dirt and the trees and you, but not quite meeting your eyes again yet.

"I'd like to have a nice night with you," he slowly admits. He says it guiltily, like he expects to be in trouble for wanting to spend time together.

You nod.

"I want that, too," you assure him. "Do you want to do anything physical, or would you rather just... Relax, together?"

He thinks on it for a long moment.

"I'd like to kiss you again," he finally says. "I don't know if I'd... I'm not sure about going further," he says.

You smile at him.

You bring your hand up to cup his cheek, slow and light enough he can move away or push you off if he needs to. He doesn't — he lets you guide his head up to look you in the eye again.

"Okay," you say back. "I'm good with that."

He carefully leans in again, and you don't stop him this time. He kisses you differently, like the two of you have never kissed before — it's slow, and shallow, and chaste, but it makes your heart race all the same.

His fingers twiddle with a twig on the ground as you both pull back long moments later.

"Would it be silly of me to put my shirt back on?" he asks, and you laugh.

"Not at all."

You spend the next hour lying there together, chatting intermittently about the bugs you hear and the days to come and bits and pieces of your pasts that you feel like sharing. Once in a while, he sits up, leans over, and kisses you, and the two of you get lost in that for a few minutes, and then you're back to relaxing together and looking at the stars peeking through the tree canopy.

Eventually, you're forced to call it a night. You both rise and stretch, and, to your pleasant surprise, his hand catches you by the hip as you turn back toward camp.

He kisses you one more time, slow and heated and full of undeniable intent. You're almost panting when he finally gives you space again, heat thoroughly stirred in you.

"I just wanted to give you something to think about the next time I leave you wanting," he purrs, still hovering close, and then passes you to return to camp.

He must be in a good mood again, the tease.

Damn him.