#sue in heels is so weird?

[fallevs]

Once again inspired by @nicoise's adorable drawings; here's Blaine in his puppet master era

Can you believe that the hardest part was actually Kurt puppet???

Under the cut the second part of the drawing that I wanted to show but am a little ashamed of; I am very sorry if it offends you 😔

[suguru-getos]

Yeah my boyfriend’s pretty cool, but he’s not as cool as me — K. Bakugou x f!Reader

Summary: You, a top model meet pro hero Dynamight on your Victoria's Secret fashion show. You didn't know how easily you both could cling like magnets. Maybe you found your soulmate, why else does it seem so easy? So loving? So ethereal? A/N: I missed writing my Jerk (Bakugou) so here I go. The character is giving off Y/N from Wattpad almost (KEKEKEK) :3 What! Sue me! Also brb gonna take a bath in holy water after this. Not beta'd take the typos like a pro ;) also this is probably my longest fic IN A WHILE and that's saying something!!! Warnings: N!pple play, F!ingering, S3x(P in V), missionary, doggy-style, squ!rting, breed!ng, dirty talk, spank!ngs. Let me know if I missed anything. :3 Oh and TOOTH ROTTING FLUFF

You sucked in a breath when you heard the announcements go off, the announcer urging the models to get done with their hair & makeup fast. It wasn’t like any other show, honestly. It was the Victoria’s Secret show. The internet alone can swamp any and every other news when this ‘phenomenon’ occurs. You have been on a strict diet of salads, high pilates & cardio, and for the past two days — dehydration to show your abs more. Being a successful model is all about making it look effortless even if it’s all graft, tenacity & utterless devotion. No career is easy at the end of the day after all.

“Y/n, are you okay? The show is about to start.” Your manager, also the manager of this event comes up to you, long, poised strides in her red bottom pencil heels. She’s wearing a satin, well-tailored coat and a skirt. “Can’t wait to munch on a fucking burger and drink a gallon of cold soda.” You smirk, your eye makeup was completed, the final touches of the makeup setting spray was splayed on by the makeup artist tending to you.

“You look gorgeous, Y/n.” He commented, voice feminine & fashion sense incredible. He was gay, and one of your best friends in the industry. “Man, so many people would be here in the show.” You snorted, “who’s coming to sing?” Your curiosity is piqued. There is always a star who comes in and makes sure the runway ends up a much better experience.

“It’s Jungkook.” Your manager responds curtly.

“Fuckin’ hell they literally bagged Jungkook?” You scoffed almost, ah— shit. Jungkook has a massive following, of course they would. Even if he’s your ex boyfriend. Of course they fucking would. You pursed your lips, your relationship with him was entirely kept a secret. He’s an idol, worshipped infact— and that ended up for the best when you parted ways. The NDA was perfect. Though you often wondered if the glamour you chose for yourself would ever allow you a fair chance at getting the right partner.

“Eh, Jungkook’s not my type.” Your bestie, the makeup artist Samuel hums, his shoulders shrugging up. “I got my eyes on the heroes.” He winks, adjusting the last finished strands of your hair. The heroes…

“I don’t understand why the heroes are invited to stuff like these.” You roll your eyes. It is weird to think about. He chuffs, “oh come on— they’re just as big of celebrities & events like these are all about glamour and showing off.” He snorts, “Dynamight’s coming, Star and Stripes is coming, a lot of the heroes who are under the top three would be here. Gahh I wonder how Dynamight looks in a suit… dude’s fucking jacked. I’m drooling just thinking about it.”

You chuckled, rolling your eyes. “Okay okay, drooling dog. Leave me alone and let me calm my tits before the walk begins.”

Dynamight huh, Katsuki Bakugou. The number one hero of Japan. He is popular enough, you have seen him bag the Calvin Klein’s Times Square ad. Your fingers itched towards your phone, searching up Dynamight on Instagram. There were two accounts. One of them was the official hero account, named Dynamight. The other was— seemingly his personal account, it was named BakugouKatsuki. Both of them were public though. Ah, you will stalk him later. Now isn’t the best time.

You get up, itching in your feet into the pencil heels and stretching your body. Amidst the ruckus, you were given your Victoria’s Secret wings, and your lingerie set. It was beautiful, you’d give them that. They do end up spending and extravagant amount of money for this after all. “Phew, I’m ready.”

There were other models lined up before you, you had been the show-stopper. It’s flamingly obvious not to think much about yourself, but you’d give yourself credit for being one of the top models in the entire industry. You also have a whooping Instagram following, and your socials are always stacked with brand deals. Jungkook was singing Seven, a safe version. You don't want to be delusional and think he chose that song because he wrote it for you, nah, you and him are over for good. Besides, he was in a parasocial relationship with his fans. That's just not your vibe.

You exhaled, engaging your core and coming out finally. It was your turn to go in and leave the crowd in absolute awe. Your time to shine! Yeah, your time to shine. No matter how many shows you have participated in, the feeling before the runway is second to none. You stepped out, peppering flying kisses to the crowd as you passed by Jungkook, catwalking.

You didn't think the first person your eyes would meet would be Bakugou himself, it was eye contact that lasted a few seconds, as you turned around and walked back inside, coming out with the fashion designer and clapping.

"What was that Bakubro?" Red Riot was sitting beside his high school best friend, smirking when he noticed Katsuki caught red-handed. "Didn't you say you have no interest in watching models and this was a waste of time?" He snickers, pulling Katsuki's leg.

Katsuki.... on the other hand, was mesmerized. He had never seen someone so beautiful. Honestly, he wasn't one to keep up with the models and the glamour the industry had to offer. He had a simple routine, focus on training, go patrolling, partake in brand deals, and sleep by 9 pm. This seemed different, especially when the eye contact you both had was so magnetic. What the fuck was happening to him he wondered... why was he behaving like a high school student all over again. Dynamight was in his late twenties now. It's not to say that he hasn't dated people at all, he has, in fact, he has a fair share of girlfriends too. He just wasn't expecting you to latch onto his heart & rip it out of his chest (respectfully).

Maybe he dan divert his mind until after the show. The Victoria's Secret brand had dealings with the Bulgari Hotel in Milan. (Where the show was held), of course, your and Katsuki's suites would be on the same floor. The show was a huge success, you knew it the moment you walked back inside and got jump-hugged by the entire team. They loved your walk, and it made you grin like an appreciated child.

"Finally I can binge." You snickered, getting out after thirty minutes or so from the show. In your head, the eye-contact with the ruby-eyed man was nothing much, merely a coincidence perhaps. You don't know much about Bakugou Katsuki anyway. You do tell your gay best friend about it though, chuckling & giggling at how he loses his mind over it. "I think Dynamight will stay in the same hotel as mine, but before leaving, I can secure an autograph for you if you'd like."

"YOU'D DO THAT?" Samuel is on top of the world when he hears your offer. How nice and kind of you. "I could do that of course!" You smile, he has been great and helpful in calming your nerves before your show. You can do that for him without thinking twice. "Great, thank you so much Y/N! You are a literal gem." He whines, kicking feet in excitement. "Dynamight's known for being intimidating and a no-bullshit guy, so just be...careful." He smiled. You raised a brow at the description, chuckling. Whatever, it's just an autograph. You were sure Samuel was just fangirling.

You walked towards Bakugou and his friend Red Riot, wearing a plain white tee shirt and some shorts. A Prada handbag over your shoulder, Cartier bracelet set on your left arm, and some boots just so you look fine in case you get accidentally papped. "Uh oh, Hottie alert, Hottie alert. She's coming this way Bakugou." Kirishima warns, while Katsuki doesn't turn, smirking. "Maybe she's into you just as much huh?" "Shut up, Kiri. I'm not even into her." What a lie, what a damned lie, because when you tap his shoulder, his entire body shudders.

"Hey- Dynamight, hi!" You smile, watching him turn to face you. Geez, he's tall and big, the blonde doesn't make him look any less intimidating. He has a scar on his eye but it only accentuates his gruff and masculine look. You swallow, "Hey there." Katsuki raises a brow, smirking at you. "Y/N right? The fabulous show stopper." He praises, and you can't help but blush a little.

"Hehe, yeah, thank you so much." You gently tussle through your bag, taking out a notepad. "Can I please get an autograph?" You smile, you wouldn't be one of those cunts who would outrightly say that it's not for you. Why do you need to specify explicitly anyway? "Aww, she's a fan?" Katsuki grins, taking the notepad from you. "Haha!" You don't respond. You don't want to ruin the vibe of the interaction. Unlucky for you, Bakugou is a pest. "So should I write Y/N, or ShowStopper Y/N?" He smirked, uh oh... "You can make two?" You raised a brow, smiling softly. "One for me and one for Samuel, my makeup artist." You smile. "Sure can." He writes the autograph, smirking, "You didn't want an autograph did ya?" Ouch, how did he catch you red-handed so easily? "Hm? Why do you feel so?" You raise a brow, taking the notepad from him. "I'm the number one hero of Japan, Sweetheart. I got my own tricks up my sleeve." He smirked, oh what a charming guy. You wonder why is he infamous for being intimidating then... maybe just his personality and his looks. "I don't mind getting one, honestly, who knows I might become a fan in the future." You smiled back. "Oh yeah? That's gonna make me real fuckin' proud of yer taste, Sweetheart." He grins, and Kirishima has long excused Bakugou and you to chitchat alone.

You chuckled, oh my, he was cocky and yet charming enough to pull it off. Meanwhile, all Bakugou thought was how your eyes are so pretty, and you smile so easily it should be illegal. Your smile makes even the crankiest of people smile. Him included.

"Whatcha doin' after this?" He asks you, raising a brow. Please be free, please be free. "Ah- it's just, my own ritual of unwinding after fashion shows to go and binge on junk food. I am going to this amazing pizza place." You smile, and Bakugou notices your body, you are stunning, but it's clear you need to maintain unrealistic standards for this. "Mind if I join?" He confidently asks, Bakugou Katsuki's confidence ever since he was a child was sky high. He doesn't mind chasing what he wants, he doesn't mind latching on to what he wants. He doesn't mind putting in the work for what he wants. Whether it's the number one hero ranking, or his new ambition - You.

"You can." You perk up, of course, you don't mind that. You wonder if he's asking you on a date or just hanging out with you. "Alright then, let's go?" You ask him again, truth be told you were starving. You need a lot of water down your stomach and also, food. "Lead the way Kitten."

You blink at the nickname, Kitten? "Kitten?" You snorted, why? "Yeah, cus you walk the show like a little lion cub," he smirked, quite assertive behind his reasoning. It makes your heart flutter. "I, see... interesting. Is it something you do? Give people you like, nicknames?" "Yeah, it's a me thing," Katsuki smirked, he loved how you sneakily asked him whether he likes you or not. "I do that to people I hate too though." He teased, biting his lip and smirking at the confused pout. "Not you though, I like ya." He admits upfront. Katsuki doesn't want to play games. It's either he doesn't give a shit, or he's into it dedicatedly.

You gnaw at your lip, walking ahead of him, thank god your back is turned towards him. Else you'd be embarrassed of just how easily he can sway you off your feet. You and him get into the car after, driving to the nearest pizza place. Your knees touch during the car ride, fuck why are you thinking about the slightest of touches Jesus! Neither of you avoid the touch though. "So I'm guessing the pre-walk schedule is pretty ass, huh?" You like that he wants to know about you in a 'I want to get to know you better' sense and not in a 'I want to hook up and leave you after' sense. "Yeah, the last four days I have been dehydrated. I can enjoy in peace now though, before the next show." You nod, looking at him in the eyes, evaluating his expressions. Bakugou looks, conflicted. On one hand, he admires this, on the other hand, he's pissed that this is what gets imposed. He clicks his tongue, "If I were to organize a damn show I'd make sure none of the dehydration shit happens, tch." You chuckle at how intensely he feels about it. It makes you feel validated, makes you feel seen and heard. "Yeah? Maybe you can organize one for your merch." You winked.

"Fuckin' Brilliant aren'tcha?" Katsuki exclaims, grinning wide. He would, and you'd be the show stopper, and it would be a statement towards normalizing human bodies. It sounds so perfect in his head, he would definitely bother his Assistant about this later.

When you both reached the Pizza place, Bakugou gets your door, smirking when you are almost shocked by it. "What? The least ya can do is expect a Hero to be chivalrous, ye?" You giggle, holding his hand, noticing the sheer difference in your hands versus his. Your hands are soft, meek, delicate, having their own hand care routine. His hands are smooth, a little moist due to sweat which you think doesn't bother him. It doesn't bother you either honestly. Plus, he smells amazing... almost in a way that could make you dizzy from it all.

"Um, what should I call you? Dynamight? Bakugou? Katsuki? Japanese people prefer to be called by their last name until they explicitly give permission, no?" You have done a few shows in Japan and know a thing or two about their culture. Bakugou only smirks harder, holding your hand & caressing it with the pad of his thumb, he leans it up to show you. "If I'm holdin' yer hand, I'd prefer to be called Katsuki, Sweetheart." "Y-Yeah, right." You are flustered. The way he looks at you is so intense and yet calming. This man is almost paradoxical.

You both get inside, taking one of the cozy booths of the restaurant. The vibe of the place is luxurious, Grenadil, African Blackwood, lamps which are delicately hand-carved. The place speaks Old-Money.

Bakugou takes a seat next to you, handing you the laminated menu with exquisite handwritten Calligraphy, "There ya go." He smirks. You notice the menu he has given you has no prices on the dishes. He has his own menu. "Uh, they have no money imprinted, are you sure this menu is okay?" This is your first time seeing this. "Yeah, s' okay. S' cus y'er not supposed to be worrying about the price of the dishes." He says it rather assertively. "The man should." He shows his menu. Oh- Of course, for a place this extra, they would have some new ritual like this for all the trophy-wives. "Katsuki- no- I'd feel guilty." You pouted. "Yeah? Yer gonna feel guilty for it bein' my job to spoil ya? On a date? Our first date?" All of a sudden, every doubt in your mind is faded. Things were escalating so quickly yet, you feel like you know this man for years, how bizarre, how comforting, how amazing! The way your heart breaks into little palpitations of excitement is second to none.

You looked down, a hue of red creeping into your cheeks. ''Gah would ya look at that!" Bakugou points at your flustered expression instantly. "She's the prettiest baddest Queen in this world, and I got her feelin' cutesy and feminine, ye?" Yes, yes it has... it's always the little things after all. You chuckle, looking up at him, extending your hand over the table so he could hold it. "You smell amazing, Katsuki." You compliment him too.

Honestly, you have never felt someone smelling this amazing as Bakugou. "Yeah? Part of my charm." He croons in his gravelly voice, the tip of his tongue brushing his upper teeth in a mischievous grin. "S' a part of my quirk." He admits, leaning back and manspreading a little. Your heart feels like it would jump out of your chest at that, you swallow the thick lump of saliva. "Yeah?" "Yeah, that's right Sweetheart." Bakugou hums again, kissing your knuckle. "What about you, have any quirks?" "Unfortunately, nope." You chuckle, a little embarrassed. You know if this man is the number one hero of Japan, he must have a formidable quirk after all. "Aw, she's my little quirkless rarity gem ain't she?" "Yeah."

Katsuki's words were healing something within you that you didn't know was broken. You were feeling all sorts of things, slightly aghast at how easily your senses feel dizzy around the true embodiment of masculinity. A little merry on how you don't have to think about anything and let him take care of you. You needed this after the tough show you've had. You ordered a pizza, and some drinks with it. "So, what next?" You don't want to get too ahead of yourself either. Maybe all this could fade the moment you both sleep together.

"Next, we go on another date, then another, then another. In between those dates, I'll steal a kiss or two." He grins. Making you chuckle, how old school... "That's all you will steal?" You ask him, quite upfront on your own this time. "Mm~ I can't be too greedy or I might make a certain Kitten uncomfortable." He winks.

"Would I make a certain hero uncomfortable if I stole more than a kiss?" You smirk, watching Bakugou grin in surprise. "Nah, the hero wants what his Princess wants." He admits shamelessly.

The dinner goes by in a haze, Bakugou asks you about your family, how many people are there in your nuclear family, you ask him, a little bit of what and hows about starting a career. You get to know he's a Taurus, and his MBTI Type is ENTJ, his Enneagram is 8w7. No wonder he is so steadfast and determined. The dinner ended with you two getting back to go to the same hotel, walking and chit-chatting through your lives, how a daily routine in your lives looks like, favourite coffee order, favourite animals, favourite bands, favourite brands, favourite foods.... until Bakugou was in front of your suite.

"Uhm, goodnight Katsuki." You smile, getting on your tippy toes and kissing his lips softly. A burning sensation ripples through your nerves instantly. Oh no- now you can't stop. Now he can't stop. There is an unsaid desperation in the way you & him deepen the kiss, a relief washing over you as the suite's door gets unlocked with a beeping sound of your card against the sensor.

You jump on him immediately, cupping his face, scratching his undercut, rabid pants echoing through the room as you lean back to catch a breath. "Wildin' aren't we?" Bakugou smirked, leaning you against the wall with his hand supporting the back of your head as he kissed you more, fuck you have awakened something carnal within him. "Yeah- yeah-" You manage to choke on your breaths as he dives against your neck, nibbling at the supple skin, licking the tender ache. "Katsuki- please-" You want more. Especially now when you can feel his semi nudged against your heat. You want it so bad, you didn't even know him a few hours ago... and now here you were.

"Yeah? Are ya sure?" He asks, seriously. He doesn't need this to be hurried. "Yeah, I'm sure."

And that was all Bakugou needed, his lips smashing against you once more, tongue exploring your mouth, colliding against yours, his mouth wrapping around your tongue and suckling nastily. Katsuki leans back, a string of saliva connecting your lips and his. He supports you by your booty, hands kneading the area on your clothed shorts as he manspreads on the couch, watching how you straddle him. You take off your shirt on your own, and unhook your tee shirt bra next. Before you can switch to your shorts, Katsuki removes his own shirt. Oh my god-

He is jacked, and there are battle scars all over his body. Your hand leans in, absentmindedly tracing one of them. You could only imagine how dangerous it must be, how dangerous his line of work is. Everyday he keeps his life on the line to protect people like you - to protect those who can't fend for themselves. Your eyes softened, and Bakugou notices you lean into the duvet of your thoughts. "Hey, they're from years ago." He smirked, kissing your cheek. "Literal years, when I was Baby Dynamight." He chuckled, lightening up your mood instantly. He leans in, hands kneading and groping at your now perky breasts and tits. "She's fuckin' stunning god damn." He cusses under his breath, eagerly wrapping his tongue around one of the nipples, while his fingers pinched and played around with the other. The sensation sends waves of pleasure down your core, it aches so deliciously good. You lean your head back, gasping out at the welcomed assault on your body. This was beyond perfect. "Katsuki-" You mumbled, just chanting his name as he switches to the other nipple, his hand caressing your sides, knuckles caressing the temples of your cheek. "Mhm~ so perfect, Princess."

Every action only makes you dive deeper into a space you've never dived on before. His fingers skilfully unbutton your shorts next, peeling off your panties. "Let's check what's the situation." He smirks, though his ruby eyes are steeled on your face. Massive hands cupping your bare pussy, you can feel your essence coat his palm, but you're not shy anymore. You want him to know he does this to you. You want him to be aware of the effect he has on you. "Fuckin' soaking." He smirked, middle finger and ring finger parting your entrance while his middle finger nudged against your tight hole. The tip pierces inside your pussy almost instantly. "Oh perfect little thing." He snickers, curling it just the right way to make your eyes roll back. "Yeah baby, keep makin' that pretty face f'me." He groans, leaning in and latching onto your sensitive tits again. "Not sorry bout it in the least, need to mark ya." He groans, suckling against your skin, marking your breasts in hickeys while he drills his finger inside your cunt. The pleasure has you reeling soon, eyes rolling back. "Katsuki- please-" you buck your hips against him helplessly, pussy twitching and fluttering shamelessly. "Yeah baby? Gonna cum?" He croons, smirking at the way your body gets littered in goosebumps. "Mhm~ Yeah." You nodded like a bobble head, the pleasure reaching new heights. "Gonna make a mess on Daddy's fingers?" he asks again, almost edging you. The new nickname has you clamping tightly as a reaction, Bakugou chuckles. "Then cum."

Your entire body shivers at the assault, his thumb finding it's way to your clit, rubbing in rhythmic circles around the bundle of nerves, watching you tweak and tremble. "Atta girl! Good job little one." He smirked, quickly changing your position to laying on the couch with him hovering over you. His hand never leaves your clit, pulling out a long and tiring orgasm as his massive cock greets you. Before you could say anything before you could protest in whines that his massive, veiny cock could never fit inside you. It could break you- his cock fills you up instantly.

You see white, your senses are torn apart. The pain surges through your body like venom, filled with excruciating amounts of pleasure. You scream out, cunt almost ripped open despite being so wet and so lubed. "Kah- AH- t'suki-" You are broken, this is exactly how you expected it to feel like. Still, you want him to move, you want him to make you feel better. You want him to show you how it feels when he's pistoning this inside and out, when he's ruining your insides his shape.

Bakugou leans in, caressing your face and peppering it with soft kisses. "Yeah Princess, you did it." He praises, and you couldn't help but rut your hips against him at the praise. You need him. "Uh huh? Wan' Daddy to take care of you?" He smirked at that, relishing your shameless movements, his cock jams against your pussy, fervour akin to an animal in a rut. You feel so good he can't help but want more either, thrusts powerful enough to cause your breasts to jiggle from the impact. "Atta girl, look at you, taking me like yer made for me." he groans, watching your fucked out expressions, listening to your melodious cries that only make him push you further. "Kah- Mm!"

His hand caresses your clit, pinching at the sensitive bundle of nerves, tap-slapping it, caressing it, playing with it. Every movement sends you reeling towards the peak of pleasure. It's not too long before you feel like cumming again, a familiar knot building in your pelvis, eager to snap. "Gonna fill ya up, yeah? Need your insides to know who knocked em up' need yer pussy to know who fucked her up, who stretched her up, who ripped her up to his shape-" The way he speaks is making you spiral, your mouth falls agape as another orgasm tears through you. Helplessly wailing and letting your pussy flutter around his muscular and veiny cock. His own release comes with it, hot and thick seed painting your insides his.

You're panting like you've just run a marathon, Bakugou's sweat only making your senses hazy with its sweet, caramel scent.

"Got one more in ya?" Bakugou asks with a smirk, watching your eyes widen. You are thinking, you are contemplating. "N-never did it before." You answered honestly. "Good, then it's my princess' first time." He smirked, manhandling you to bend over the couch's arm rest, letting your legs nudge together. "Get on yer tippy toes Kitten." he kneads at your ass, spanking it once just to test the waters.

The whore-ish moan that comes out of your mouth at that only makes him more amazed. "She likes spankings huh?" He smirks, slapping on the other side and watching his hand print cover almost your whole ass cheek. "Fuck-" He hissed at the sight, watching you get on your tippy toes as he pierces your cum-dripping pussy once again. Your stomach is already pressed by the arm-rest. The position is enough to make you see stars, you can't form words. Just mewling and moaning with mouth open. His thrusts are a lot precise, a lot sharper, a lot more calculated and a lot more rough.

The force of his pelvis colliding against your ass feels like spankings in itself, your womb is crying at the feeling, your cunt squelching and making lewd noises that echo like music to his ears, just perfectly entwined with your loud moans. "Fuck- you are bloody gonna have me addicted to this shit." He groans, sounds of pap- pap- paps filling the room.

You feel weird, you feel like you could pee from the pressure alone. "Katsuki- feel like gonna squirt." You whine, embarrassed. "Aw, it's okay, do it." He hums, hand wrapping around your hair and tilting your head back for a passionate kiss.

And so you let go, you don't have any choice anyway with his thrusts ripping your pussy. "Fuck- fuck-" and so you end up squirting, the liquid dripping down your thighs as you cum your brains out. Katsuki tips off the edge at the sight too, oh what a lovely mess indeed. "Oh that's fuckin' incredible" He chuckles, slowing his thrusts to a stop.

You are floating in subspace already. You can't believe the hero you were going to stalk on Instagram has your insides bred, twice. Katsuki carries you princess-way and takes you to the bedroom, "gonna get ya some water, you were so amazin' holy shit Princess." he chuckles, peppering your face with soft, feather-like kisses. You only hum and groan in response, he literally fucked your brain into mush.

He returned with some water and added electrolytes that he found in the fridge to ensure better hydration. "Come on, champ, c'mere." He cradles you on his lap like a baby - his baby to be precise. He held the glass for you, letting you drink from the straw while his other hand is busy petting your body soothingly, your arms, your hair, your back.

"Do you want to sign an NDA? If we're gonna be a thing?" You asked him, genuinely curious, but it upsets him that this is the first thing that you say. This industry really is disgusting. "Nah, I'd like you to sign an NBA."

You raised a brow, what does that mean? "Mm?"

"Non-Breakup Agreement" He chuckled, watching you giggle too as he leaned in and kissed your lips.

[worldlxvlys]

hiii could u make dwb (chris or matt which ever) where reader is drunk and Chris take care or them plsssss

( I'm a slut for being taken care of when drunk sue me😭)

armor

boyfriend! chris sturniolo x reader

warnings: reader is drunk, cursing, mention of sex

a/n: hope you like :)

based off of these texts, you can read if you want !

my mind was fuzzy, eyes unable to focus on anything. the only thing i could think about was chris.

i tapped the stranger next to me, making him turn towards me.

“my boyfriendsss comin’ to get me!” i told him, a huge smile on my face. “i’m sooooo excited to see him”

he stared at me with a weird look, “ok?” he said confused.

when he walked away, i saw the familiar fresh love logo walking towards me.

“CHRIS!!!” i yelled, starting to walk towards him, but losing my balance.

“careful ma” he said as he caught me.

“chrisss, you’re actuallyyyy wearing fresh love ! i didn’t even know !” i let out a gasp “maybe i’m a psyhcic! “ i said as my eyes lit up.

“ok baby, let me take you home”

“WOAHHHH CHRIS” i yelled.

“you tryna fuck ? shit, we can do it right hear, right now” i said as i went to pull my dress up.

“WOAH WOAH” he said, eyes wide and stopping me.

“baby, you’re so far gone right now. i’m not gonna take advantage of you, i just want to make sure you get home safe” he said.

“awww how cute” i said.

“c’mon ma” he said as he guided me outside and into the uber.

**

once we arrived at my house, he thanked our driver and helped me into my house.

he wrapped an arm around my waist as he helped me walk to my room.

he sat me down on my bed, “ i’m gonna help you get changed, ma. is that ok ?” he asked.

“mmhm” i nodded.

he pulled my heels off, placing them down on my floor. he then moved behind me, slowly unzipping my dress, careful not to snag my skin.

he pulled my dress off, and helped me to get changed into a pair of sweats.

“are you cold? want my hoodie?”

“yes please” i said, grinning up at him.

he pulled his hoodie off, putting it on me.

“ok baby, i need you to drink some water for me” he said as he passed me a bottle.

i opened the bottle and put it to my mouth, letting the cool liquid flow down my throat.

after a few sips, i put the cap on and placed it on my nightstand.

“alright, let’s get you to sleep” he said as i laid down.

he pulled my blanket over my body, and placed a kiss on my cheek.

“thank you, chris” i whispered. “you always take good care of me”

“you deserve it, ma” he said, his eyes sweeping over my face and taking in my features.

he began to walk away.

“where are you going?” i asked, peaking my head in his direction. “i want my cuddles”

the corner of his lips turned up as he started to smile, “i got you, ma”

he laid down next to me, wrapping his arms around me and placing a kiss on my shoulder.

“sweet dreams baby”

————————-

sorry i just realized that you asked for dealer chris, hope you still like tho <333

masterlist

tag list: @lovingsturniolo @lustfulslxt @gwenlore @flowerxbunnie @sturnssx @mattslolita @its-jennarose @chanelsturn @sophssturn @bernardsleftbootycheek @queen161718 @chrisdevora @cupidsword @nickmillersn1gf @stramboli4life @mattsneezing @chrisstankyleg @sturniolobltch @vib3swithanuk @ciarasturn1 @bethsturn @bernardenjoyer @mbbsgf @soursturniolo @rac00ns-are-c00l4

[drabblesandimagines]

Bliss

Leon Kennedy x afab reader When I am on my period, you get period fluff

You wince as your stomach twists, jab the mascara wand into your eye rather than coat your lashes and swear, gripping the bathroom counter with your other hand.

“Great.” You hiss, closing your eye and grabbing a wet wipe, trying to salvage what you’d applied to your bottom lashes as your eye starts to water. The box of so-called express pain relief pills you’d downed greedily 30 minutes ago taunts you from the counter. They had barely touched the surface of the tormenting cramps that had started this afternoon and you wonder if you can sue the pharmaceutical company for such blatant lies.

You try and steady yourself with measured breaths, opening your eye cautiously to inspect it in the mirror. It looks a little red and you groan. You’re bloated, sore, stupidly emotional – irrationally cried at the fact that a spam email had made its way into your actual inbox at lunch - and the last thing you want to be doing right now is getting dolled up in one your classiest and form-fitting little black dresses, don high heels and socialize for the evening, no matter how much you’d been looking forward to it ahead of your visitor.

And not to mention that it’s at the bloody White House.

Leon had returned from Spain two months ago to silent fanfare - wouldn’t be good for US morale to know the President’s daughter had been kidnapped by a cult and infected with a parasite in the first place. Working as an intelligence agent for the DSO meant you’d read of the horrors from the report, comforted Leon when he awoke from nightmares of blackened veins, tentacles bursting forth from skulls, so you’re grateful that the President insisted Leon was given some time off work, though his first day back was looming on the horizon. Last week, on embossed white card with gold accents, sealed by a wax stamp came the invitation in a cursive hand to one Mr Leon S Kennedy and partner to the Presidential dining room.

There’s a knock on the bathroom door in Leon’s familiar rhythm.

“You nearly ready, sweetheart? I think the car will be here soon.”

“Sorry. Yeah,” you call back, “Final touches.” You turn back to the mirror and grab the mascara wand, cautiously covering your top lashes to even things out before frowning at your complexion. Are you breaking out too? A wave of pain rolls through your stomach once more and you grimace. Maybe you should’ve gone with a heat pad after all, but this dress is snug - it’d look bulky and weird on your stomach and the Secret Service guys will be all over it in the security checks.

You zhuzh up your hair one more time, plaster on a smile and unlock the bathroom door, finding Leon leaning up against the wall opposite. He lets out a low whistle as you emerge, hair falling into his blue eyes, and you duck your head in embarrassment at the attention. Honestly, right now you’d prefer him to look anywhere but at you.

“Hello, beautiful,” he smiles, looking unbelievably handsome in his best suit. He’s forgone the tie as usual – can’t stand them – but still looks appropriately smart. He stands up from the wall, slips a hand around your waist to pull you in for a kiss but you flinch at his touch, causing him to stop and frown. “You okay?”

“Mm, I’m fine.” You try and step out of his grip to head towards the stairs. “We should go keep an eye out for the car.”

His arm remains firmly in place. “You’re a bad liar.”

“I’m a great liar,” you retort. “Comes with the profession.” Your whole job depended on it, really – gathering intelligence was a lot of charming people into feeling comfortable around you, loosening their tongue into sharing secrets or giving you access to places you’re not meant to be.

“Not to me.” He’s got you there. “What’s the matter?”

You sigh, feeling a headache coming on to add to the list of ailments. “Can we leave it, please?”

“I don’t want to leave it – something’s wrong.” Leon is stubborn, doesn’t like to leave things hanging. He knows how precious life is, doesn’t want to leave anything to be dealt with later in case later never comes.

He stares at you - pout on his lips and those blue puppy dog eyes.

“Period.” You mumble, hoping that would suffice.

“Ah.” He nods.

“What does that mean?” You know it’s the hormones talking, even as you say it, but you’re stubborn too. It’s completely irrational, but his tone’s rubbed you the wrong way.

“It’s a sympathetic ah. Anything I can do to help?”

“No,” you grumble back. “I just want this evening over with.”

He looks confused, then. “I thought you were looking forward to it - you were excited yesterday-”

“I was,” you snap back. “But now the last thing I want to be doing is wearing this stupid tight dress and heels and get in a limo, be felt up by Secret Service agents for five minutes to make sure I’m not sneaking in a bomb between my thighs, and then go and dine with the President of the United States and his daughter, trying to remember what seven different types of silverware are meant for what course and then eating tiny bites and drinking bitter expensive wine, all when I could be at home, in my pyjamas, eating pizza and ice-cream and watching absolute trash on TV, cuddling my boyfriend.”

“Okay.” Leon cups your face. “Breathe.”

You take a deep breath, feeling a little winded from your rant.

“Good.” He smiles, dropping his hands and pulling his phone out of his trousers pocket. “Now, go get changed.”

You weren’t expecting that. “Sorry?”

“Get changed – go put your pyjamas on.”

“But dinner-”

“I’ll cancel, and then I’ll order us some pizza.”

You stare at him as if he’s lost his mind. “You can’t cancel on the President.”

“I rescued his daughter, he owes me.” Leon shrugs, as if he was just asking for a raincheck. “Besides, it’s Ashley who wanted this the most. We’ll reschedule.”

“No, I just need to tough it out.”

He raises an eyebrow at your word choice. “You do not.”

“You do it all the time – dragging yourself about the place with bullet and stab wounds.”

“Sweetheart, you have to agree that’s a little different. Us having dinner at the White House is not a life or death situation. I didn’t have a choice but to grit my teeth and get on with it, you very much do.” He grabs your hand, squeezing it tight. “Besides, you put up with enough that’s out of our control by these guys – missed anniversaries, birthdays, dinners - when they send me out on missions. I’m not going to sit and make you go through an uncomfortable evening when you don’t need or want to.”

“Are you sure?” You ask, quietly.

“Positive.” He steps forwards, gives you a chaste kiss on the lips in reassurance. “Go and get comfortable – I’ll handle it.”

--

30 minutes later, you’re laying on the couch, head in Leon’s lap as he runs his fingers through your hair, another rubbing your back – dressed in loose pyjama shorts and one of his old sweatshirts, a hot water bottle that he’d made pressed against your stomach and one of those “so bad it’s good” reality relationship shows playing on the widescreen. One that Leon insists he detests, but remembers everyone’s names and asks what happened on previous episodes if he misses one.

“Was Ashley okay?”

“Fine. She’s already texted me three alternate dates.” He pauses, raising an eyebrow at the screen. “I thought they broke up.”

“Uh-uh. He proposed.”

He scoffs in disbelief. “This cannot be real.”

You sigh, content, and nuzzle into his thigh. “Love you.”

“Love you more.”

The doorbell rings, announcing the pizza’s arrival. You reluctantly sit up, pressing the hot water bottle to your stomach as Leon gets up off the sofa and starts to head towards the door.

“Leon.”

“Mm?” He pauses, turning slightly, removing his wallet from his jacket pocket.

“How come you’re still in your suit?”

“Well,” he resumes walking to the door, “I read how endorphins can help with period pain, and I know how happy a certain someone gets when they get to admire my ass in this particular suit…” The wallet slips from his fingers, bounces on the carpeted floor, and he bends down, slowly. “..so what kinda boyfriend would I be to hide it in sweats when they’re feeling poorly?”

--

Comments, likes and reblogs make my whole day x

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Ko-fi

[thehollowwriter]

If I really think about it, watching all those Mary Sue oc videos as a kid really ruined my ocs at the time for me. Like listening to these grown adults with cool art and a big channel trashing ocs that were probably just made by kids my age and ranting about how stupid and awful and overpowered they were made me hate my own ocs so much. I felt embarrassed that I even made them, and I was like... 11? 12?

Looking back it's a pretty common part of the process if you make ocs from young to have overpowered ocs. That's just how little kids are. "Yeah, you might be superman, but I've got a magic kryptonite sword!" "Oh yeah? Well my oc can break the time barrier with their speed!" "(That second one was brought to you by smol Quinn copying the flash)

They're just having fun and want to come out on top. Losing isn't very fun. And they just want their characters to be like all the other cool characters they've seen!

Even today too many people act like ocs made for fun should be like a fucking masterpiece that is perfectly written and not "weird" in any way. Like people try to act like times have changed and callkng things cringe is dead, but even under oc positivity posts you get people that are like "Well yeah BUT (random complaint)"

There's something so hateful and mean about taking the time to make long posts or videos (which you have to set and edit!) to trash some ocs you don't like for the crime of... being made for fun and not being realistic enough for you. Like these people put the creators of the ocs' accounts and their art in their video and just bash them.

The comments were just filled with people like "thanks this helped me realise how terrible my ocs were" "people who make characters all love their ocs are narcisstic/some other ableist nonsense" "imagine being so immature you want your oc to be the best and most powerful of all time" etc etc

"Cringey ocs" are listed as a sign a of a toxic fandom. It's so fucking ridiculous. Imagine hating ocs so much you consider it be on the same level as shit like bullying and death threats.

It made me feel so stupid and uncreative. Like I was a bad, dumb person who couldn't even make OCs the correct way. I was utterly ashamed of some of my ocs and either completely changed them or scapped them wntirely.

Even now, I worry about making my ocs "too powerful" even though I know that I'm free to do what I want, and if someone has a problem, they can screw off. I've also come to realise through listening to bool reviews ans critiques that the difference between a "cringy oc" and a "character written by an established author" can sometimes literally just be that the author is published and you're not.

Make your ocs as powerful as you want. Make the entire cast of characters fall head over heels for your ocs. Make them the most important people ever. Make them a magic goth part demon part vampire part werewolf. Make them a rainbow magic princess or a gothic dark magic queen.

Just have fun.

[kenphobia]

YOUNG AND RECKLESS!

"here's an idea! let's buy a cake, lure Elias out and throw it off a cliff. watch him get it."

summary. when the new hire and the hottest archival assistant become besties, all hell breaks loose.

contents. really really old content; somewhat ooc since i was too lazy to fix dialogue; wholesome, general fluff; there's not much of a plot tbh; not edited

The job were boring, you knew that from the very start.

When you first stepped into the Magnus Institute, a weird feeling had crept up on you like a snake slithering pass the halls and jumping at you with fangs sinking into your shoulder. Yet after the terrible, terrible interview with Elias and getting accepted into the job, that funny feeling slipped away once you settled into the notion of things.

You worked in the Institute for far longer than you would've liked, always having to look around corners because that sense of dread and foreboding death trickled in at the worst times possible (AKA when you're idly standing in the corner, waiting for the printer to finish its job). But the pay was good enough to pay your stupidly costly london rent AND your necessities at the same time, so you had to room to complain.

Though, you wish your boss wasn't so weird and creepy all of the time. Makes sense since this is an Institute known for collecting statements and artefacts regarding otherworldly, and dare you might say 'spooky', beings and events. And also for holding the highest MIAs/deaths record among all other academic institutes, but you digress.

Working in the library department was fine, nothing really big like the artefact storage or the achives. Like you mentioned, it paid a hefty amount and the place was quiet enough for your introverted self to get comfortable in.

Well, until you were brought into the archives and met the one and only (and possibly the hottest person in the archives), Tim Stoker.

After another excruciatingly awkward meeting wth Elias regarding your sudden promotion, you sighed in relief as you pass those doors and hear it close on you. You tried shaking off the feeling of being watched, but the loud pounding of your heart echoed louder than what your mind is trying to tell your body.

As you try to silently pass through the halls, squeezing yourself into tight corners despite having no one but you around, your body suddenly came into contact of another. You stumbled, nearly falling to the floor until a hand grabbed you and pulled you closer by your arm.

"I get that I'm charming, but really is no need to fall head over heels for me." You looked up and saw a man with bright hair. He was tall, taller than anyone in your family and his colorful outfit choice really made stand out from the boring, nearly barren hallway.

You raised a brow at his words. "Oh please. With how you bumped into me while being in a spacious hallway, I'd say you're the one who's head over heels here." You played along to his sudden flirtatious move, rolling your eyes and flipping off a strand of hair with the back of your hand. "You seemed like the type of guy who'd pay someone just to have a mary sue moment with their crush."

"Oh, you wounded me!" The man cried out dramatically, putting a hand on his chest and letting you go in the process. You were alreayd standing on your two feet and yet you still nearly stumble backwards. "But yeah, maybe I was or maybe I wasn't. I'm Tim, Tim stoker by the way."

Tim offered you his hand and you gladly accepted it, shaking it gently but firmly. "(Name) (Last name), it's nice to meet you, Stoker."

"Please, call me Tim. And the pleasure's all mine." He laughed, winking playfully.

And from that day moving onwards, you and Tim were practically stuck by the hip at every hour of the day. Wherever he went, you were there as well. And wherever you ended up at, Tim was closely following behind you like a unassuming bodyguard with a few tricks up his sleeve.

Oh, Tim's at the police getting evidence for a report? You were there as well, merely for fun and also you can secretly record police officers fucking up for laughs. You're out in the woods for a camping trip, getting wood for fire? There's Tim guarding both of your tents, rehearsing alpha male jokes to tell you when you come back.

It was almost impossible to split the two of you up. Well, almost impossible.

"Hey, (Name). Did you see the email Elias sent to everyone?" Tim called you from across the room, sitting relaxed in his chair while you turn your gaze away from the bright screen of your laptop.

"Hm? No, not yet. Why?" You asked him, despite knowing it was either about you and Tim or random changes being implemented into the Institute.

The bright-haired man struggled to contain his laughter, even bringing up his wrist to bite at his cuffs but even still he wheezed through his teeth. "Hgh— Listen to this!" Tim coughed, breathing in before displaying a poor impression of Elias.

"May I remind everyone that bringing in alocholic beverages are strictly prohibited in the archives, as well as bringing in any lighters or any item alike that could potentially set fire to 'important materials'. Sincerely, Elias Bouchard."

You raised your brow in amusement, chuckling all the while Tim stopped himself from bursting into laughter when he was impersonating Elias. "Is that so? Surely, no one has been bringing in alcohol or lighters into the archives. Right, Tim?" You teased, poking him with your words as to hint him to cough off his crimes.

Tim composed himself. "Yes... No, of course not. I mean, that would be stupid, wouldn't it?" He sighed, leaning on the office chair. "But... If you hide it well enough, then it's not so stupid anymore." He grinned mischievously, pulling out a flask from his pockets. It looked a lot like a calculator in his hands rather than a little alcoholic bottle as the metal shimmered under the buzzing, yellow-ish lights.

As he shook it, he didn't realized the looming shadow over him until you divert your eyes from his form and hold back a snicker. Tim looked at you with confusion, closw to saying something before he turned and saw no other than Elias' percing pale blue eyes.

"Is that so, Tim?" Elias spoke callously, though a wide smile was attached to his face, stretching skin across his facial bones like plastic covering. "Why don't you meet me in my office for a little chat, wouldn't that be lovely?"

Tim shrinks in his seat, averting his gaze down to the ground. "Yes. of course, sir."

You watch in half amusement, half concern as Tim is dragged out of the office by Elias. A familiar face peeked out of the corner, carrying a tray of tea and donning a blue cloud-patterned sweater.

Martin raised a brow as he settled the tray down. "What just happened?"

You pour some tea for yourself and drink from it, doing a dramatically loud slurping sound before smacking your lips. "The cycle of life, Dear Martin."

notes. this was supposed to be for a request but hhhh i need to fill the space somehow oopsies i'll do the req later maybe

[stargirlfeyre]

It’s kinda sad to me how Nesta stans truly believe that Nesta is more valuable to other female characters, particularly her own sisters, because she’s prettier/sexier/or more appealing to men. It’s like they believe that a woman’s value is determined how many men lust after her.

They have to continually repeat that Nesta is the sexiest female character in the entire series and that no woman will ever compete with her. Of course, Feyre and Elain could’ve never have captured Erie’s interest - they’re too boring, stupid, and ugly…. But Nesta, Nesta is so smart, cunning, and beautiful that she has every men eating at the palm of her hand. And of course, if Nesta had met Rhys first - he would be head over heels in love with her because she’s just so beautiful and not like other girls. Even still - Rhys obviously daydreams about her and regrets marrying Feyre when Nesta is right there because Nesta is so different and special. And of course Azriel is so in love with Nesta and is jealous of Cassian - and if he does get with elain - it’s only because he truly wants Nesta.

Why do they continually have to hype Nesta up by degrading her sisters? It’s weird and sexist. I’ve seen literal conversations about how Nesta has bigger boobs then her sisters and that means she’s prettier. Even if Nesta was prettiest woman in the entire world, how does that make her better than her sisters? How does having big boobs makes one more deserving of love and attention? And why the hell are we still believing that a woman’s value is only determined by how attractive she is to men? Why do Nesta stans desperately want Nesta to have male validation, especially from characters they don’t even like (such as Rhys)? Why is it so important that Nesta be seen as this sexy, temptress that can get every man and her sisters viewed as these stupid, vapid, boring, dull little girls that only want to have babies?

It’s because most of them are losers who have never been picked for anything in life so they self-insert onto Nesta to live out their fantasies about finally being desired. Problem is Nesta isn’t wanted in the books the way they want her (themselves) to be wanted. The men she has interested in her aren’t enough for them so they cope by making her a Mary Sue who’s secretly desired by everyone. Overcompensating for the fact that they aren’t.

Nesta’s fans become increasingly easier to understand once you realize a lot of them thrive off of male validation and that bleeds into how they talk about Nesta.

[crispyjenkins]

(AC wip) The Savage Price of Piety

it's desmond's deathday and i wrote like. 9,000 more words to this wip (first two parts here) last week and i want to brag about it, so happy deathday you wet bastard (mostly gen but with a surprise rarepair, time travel/reincarnation, found family, william miles’ a+ parenting, accidental subterfuge, desmond goes by miles mostly, inspired by study of flight by @esamastation but with a twist!, only somewhat historically accurate swears by which i mean probably not at all but leonardo had some Opinions alright) have some (three) chronological but scattered bits of scenes

  “Oh,” Claudia says as soon as she opens the door, seeing Ezio’s rather wretched expression, “you’ve figured it out, then.”

  “You could have told me,” he growls, following her into the entryway and closing the door behind himself. 

  Claudia scoffs, spinning on heel to lead the way further into the building for the kitchens. “I had one conversation with the boy, brother, I was hardly sure of it myself. Wait,” she halts and points a finger at him accusingly, “how did you figure it out?”

  Ezio, quite graciously he thinks, ignores the subtle insult to his intelligence. Sighing, he pushes back his hood before their mother sees him with it on indoors, and runs a hand over his beard. “I had Leonardo visit.”

  Claudia’s face slackens, before twisting into a rage that has Ezio stepping away warily.

  But she punches the wall instead of her brother, a shouted “Gods damn it!” echoing in the narrow space. Then she spins on her heel and hollers further into the residential part of the bordello, “Mother! We forgot about Leonardo!”

  Horrified by his sister and concerned for his mother’s current mental state, Ezio reaches out to put a hand on Claudia’s arm, but he doesn’t get the chance before Maria de' Auditore is shouting right back, “God damn it!”

  Grumbling, Claudia stomps down the hall and leaves a very confused Ezio hurrying to follow; she ignores all his pleas for explanation until she’s stomped into the kitchen, where their mother is pouring two very large glasses of wine, with very little water to cut down the potency. She passes one to Claudia silently, and then they both drink, though luckily they aren’t attempting to down it all at once.

  “I can’t believe we forgot the Maestro,” their mother mutters to herself as she comes over to kiss Ezio on both cheeks, before shoving the still mostly-full glass into his hands.

  “Forgot him for what?” Ezio wants to know, clutching the glass like a mother clutches a babe.

  “To test if Miles really is an Auditore.” It’s said so flippantly, like it doesn’t affect Claudia at all, but she also collapses into one of two chairs at the little tea table under the largest window. Their mother takes the other, massaging her forehead and looking like she’s grieving their family all over again.

  It occurs to Ezio, as he moves to stand next to the table, that she probably is.

--

“It’s all up to you now, Seventeen.”

  Desmond opens his eyes to the dark of the dormitory, faint moonlight cutting over the floor between his bed and Nino’s, and he can’t bring himself to move — even to roll off his arm that is very much still asleep. 

  Clay still haunts him.

  Five hundred fucking years, and his current twenty-four besides, and that fucker still won’t leave him alone. If Desmond were not so familiar with what an actual Bleed feels like, he’d almost think Clay is stuck in his brain the same way as his ancestors. Thank fuck he stopped Bleeding Ezio’s memories and feelings, while still retaining much of the training.

  Fuck, time travel is so weird.

  Or, reincarnation? He’s not sure of much, but he’s sure he was dead, he’s sure he burned, and he’s sure that though his 15th century mother had affectionately called him [redacted], his name is Desmond Miles.

  Or just Miles, he supposes. Sue him, he panicked when Adele first approached him, and the best aliases are ones you know you’ll respond to, right? If only he’d have had the forethought to divorce himself from his... future family’s surname.

  It sounds different enough with an Italian accent that it hasn’t caused any problems, yet. Like making him flinch. Or snapping that he hasn’t been a Miles since he was sixteen.

  Granted, he still has no idea what he would go by instead. Altaïr and Conner would feel weird, while Sef or Darim are just a bit on the nose, and does he look like an Edward? Malik, maybe. His grandmother here, now, is actually from the Levant, so his skin is certainly dark enough that people wouldn’t be surprised by the name.

Except that feels almost akin to naming himself Leonardo.

--

  So instead, Leonardo spends every spare moment with his best friend, sometimes to brainstorm, sometimes to simply be there for him. It’s during one of these visits, he and Ezio once again observing the youngest assassins in the training ring, that he hears Miles laugh for the first time, and it’s as if ice water has been poured directly into his veins.

  Oh fuck. Oh Saints, oh Holy Father, oh fuck.

  “Leonardo?” Ezio asks quietly, head tilted towards him in concern, but Leonardo ignores him to stumble for the bannister to lean over it and stare down at Miles learning a little jig from Tullio, laughing all the while.

  He had only heard it once, truth be told, and it had been Salaí that had caused it, but even three years later, Leonardo remembers the laugh of Rodrigo Borgia’s sinister little shadow.

  Below, Miles doesn’t stop smiling, but his golden brown gaze yanks up towards Leonardo as if knowing his thoughts are about him. His eyes narrow, then widen slightly in realisation, and then he winces and looks away, which is all the confirmation Leonardo needs.

  Turning around, Leonardo grabs a confused Ezio by the arm and drags him from the training room, ignoring his protests until they find the nearest empty room.

  “Leonardo, what—?”

  “Romulus.”

-

[atopvisenyashill]

Ive seen lot of discourse about it esp pre season 2 so i wanna know your thoughts on the Driftmark scene .

💀💀

i think the most too blame people are the adults. in fact i don’t really blame the children at all. i think it’s stupid to get up in arms about luke using a knife on aemond when like, in the book, it’s not even treated as weird that this five year old is walking around with a dagger. i think the fact that luke only uses the dagger once jacaerys starts losing the fight against aemond shows that luke has a child’s understanding of violence; he goes for the eye to stop the fight, and doesn’t grasp that maiming aemond is a very serious thing that he can’t undo. i think both aemond and jacaerys think the best thing, The Dutiful Thing is to deal with this situation themselves, because they’re Almost A Man Grown, and they’re too angry (and too childish bc they’re literal children) to realize that the mature thing to do is to LEAVE THE SITUATION and GO GET A GROWNUP and of course, it escalates to a horrific degree (they’re both doing this for different reasons, but it amounts to the same sort of “the right thing to do is to be a man and handle this silly fight myself” line of thinking). we can have a lot of conversations about people’s tempers and who started the fight, and what the addition of a rock or the girlsdoes to the dynamic but i just feel that ultimately, this fight went on for too long bc they were not being supervised correctly. i have a really hard time blaming a five year old who was given a dagger for using that dagger nor do i think it’s on aemond to anticipate that the toddler he picked a fight with would bring both a wooden sword AND a dagger to a fistfight. also i’m sorry but it is darkly funny that a twelve year old got jumped by two toddlers, sue me. the blame doesn’t lie with them, i don’t think any of the three of them realized it would escalate so quickly, and then everyone around them acted INSANE afterwards.

now when we get into the fallout of it. first of all, i think people are purposefully obtuse about why rhaenyra goes on the offensive. i cannot stress enough that part of the issue here is that she’s committing treason which is punishable by death. does she help the situation at all? no. but “she’s mad they said the truth” is like saying cersei is only mad at ned bc he said the truth; they’re mad bc someone knowing the truth means they could die. i think both rhaenyra & alicent start acting crazy bc now this issue between them has spilled out between their kids in like a REAL in your face way and they’re both looking for viserys to like, DO SOMETHING do anything, and when they feel like he’s not doing enough they decide “fuck it time to show him EYE can cross the line if i have to” and viserys responds by making it worse 😭

secondly, laying out how viserys just completely fucks this. he’s the one who makes this disastrous decision to make it illegal to talk about his grandsons, confines his heir away from court, and then refuses to acknowledge that like, it was pretty fucked up thing that just happened to his son, so everyone walks away with some sort of righteous fury over the event and once again digs in their heels to make the dumb, violent decisions that help escalate this entire thing into war. and it’s not even that viserys is trying to do the right thing and just failing, like say, egg & the issues he has with succession, viserys is trying to do the easiest thing, the thing that gets everyone to stop yelling at him & do what he says. bro they are taking eyes out and threatening to torture each other. this is so far beyond something that can be fixed with a kiss on the cheek. these are two opposing sides CONVINCED the other is going to kill them, it’s not like him & rhaenys or him & daemon. but he just says “it’s fixed it’s fine” and goes home. why are dads like this.

[pixiestein]

a lil mouscedes design bc i’ve started actually getting comfortable with digital art recently & my fcking apple pencil stopped working so i can’t do anything until they replace it 🙃 anyway ever since i heard mouscedes is coming to g3 i’ve been wondering about her design bc girl her g1 design was Atrocious im sorry but the colours, the patterns, the way she describes her style as “totally upper beast side!” and yet it’s never shown in what she wears? girlie just wears a cheese shirt & some ballet rat trap heels? where is her rich girl old money new york um excuse me this drink is wrong can i speak to the manager swag?? they fr did not capture the rich girl vibes which is disappointing bc while it’s definitely not my thing, i do love exploring different styles & aesthetics and the Classic Rich Girl aesthetic is something we haven’t rlly seen from them! so i’m curious what they’re gonna do w her for g3, cautiously optimistic bc i don’t think it can be worse than her previous design, buuut still worried they aren’t gonna do her justice. if they don’t heavily feature yellow in her colour palette im gonna sue fr give yellow a chance i swear it’s not a bad colour!!!! anyway. look up what a real life rat king is if u wanna see something weird & gross but that’s what she’s based on, just a fucked up amalgamation of rat bods stuck together & slowly dying. ik some people have said that she should’ve been in eah bc the rat king is a character in the nutcracker, but i mean, it is quite monstrous. like if u saw one in real life would you not think there was something monstrous & supernatural going on? so i gave her like ten tails bc i want her to look kinda weird to be clear that she is actually a monster. her hairstyle was very much inspired by willow pill’s rat look tbh…pink added in ofc. and the buttons on her skirt & jacket are little nyc manhole covers :3

[callmearcturus]

sup i'm watching rogue nation and just analyzing physicality

i did this with fallout before, time for my fave

sue me but i do really like the IMF plant that ethan immediately imprints on at the start of Rogue Nation, the very slow way he approaches as they poke each other about music history, it's measured and its not direct, he's moving at angles. "Do you know why they called him Shadow?" "Because he had a very light touch." That feels like the call-and-answer to confirm he's IMF, but they immediately are vibing so strongly that it could just be a conversation. It's cute! it's also just fun for me to compare Oldthan versus Twinkthan, bc younger Ethan never felt approachable, he felt like an intruder to be handled. Older Ethan either knows how to turn that default intimidation off or it's not his default anymore.

When Lane makes Ethan watch, there is a completely unmasked rawness in Ethan's face as he realizes this plant he could have probably lingered around the shop to talk music with is about to die and it's a staged act specifically for him. She didn't do anything except be someone to hurt Ethan with. It's kind of an interesting play with the idea of fridging? That is explicitly what is happening here, it's a manipulation on Ethan, and he knows it, and yet it's going to work, it's a hook Lane makes him swallow.

ZOOM IN ON ETHAN'S EYES. like goddamn. McQ. /whistles

WHY DOES EVERY INTERROGATOR IN THIS SERIES HAVE LIL VIALS OF INTIMIDATION?

i am O B S E S S E D with the omnidirectional horniness of the Bone Doctor. there is an almost effete weirdness to him, he has super odd gestures. given how few lines he has, he still has a ton of interesting lil moments, like the putting his finger in his mouth to remove his ring, and the wink when he steals benji and the very off little judgy face when he unmasks benji later. dude is doing a lot, i see why TC and McQ were like "actually he's not gonna die in this scene, we changed our minds, we love the bone doctor"

ethan sees the omnidirectional horniness and sluts it up in response obvsly

FUCKING VAULTING UP THE POLE LIKE A LUNATIC

Punct pointed out that, like, presumably this was Ethan's escape plan the whole time, he doesn't do it until Ilsa is in danger, ergo he could have done it at any time, he was just hanging out to get some info from his torturers first. why the fuck is he like this. also that arm strength is truly 100% batshit

the fucking barefoot combat is so funny to me. yes obvsly both of them are barefoot for this, its a Shared Intimacy. we now know that in the original plan, Ilsa was in those fucking heels for this sequence until TC was like "take em off" so my question is was ethan in shoes before that? because if I was a weirdly astute actor-producer who understood the inherent symbolism of that motif, i would also make sure my character was barefoot to establish that thread of vulnerable connection to one of my two love interests.

lmao behind ethan in the phone booth is an ad for "unhurried massage and domination" its an ad for my fic actually

its small but the way ethan does not know where the fuck to go for a solid moment after everything's gone tits-up is nice. he has no plan, he doesn't know what his next step is. and he's been shot.

also Benji's interrogation scene is delightful

There is that moment of eye contact across the room that's like "well, here we are again" with these two, who have been covering for Ethan this whole time

and RIGHT before Benji starts lying out his ass with grace and poise, there's just this tiny smile of acknowledgement on Brandt's face, it's like two frames before the cut happens, but it just speaks to how Brandt is fully aware that Benji is going to pull this off like he does every fucking week

Rogue Nation really is Benji's movie, full stop

also he is so genuinely happy to be going to the opera. like, he's an IMF ghost, he should be ultra suspicious of winning a sweepstakes to get tickets in the mail, but he doesn't care, his job is miserable and he loves theatre so much he'll take the win

[openminded-freak]

WHY IS THERE NO GOOD AYANO AISHI/READER FANFICTIONS 😫😭

I. Don't. Want. Budo.

I. Don't. Want. Taro.

I DON'T WANT THEM AND THEIR YEE YEE ASS HAIRCUTS.

I want the woman who would actually just stab me.

What's worse is that there was this one fanfiction years ago where she hated the mc for a while and it took her so long to actually warm up to them. It was realistic. She didn't just fall in love with them as soon as they moved to that school, she hated their fucking guts for a while. The writing was so good and the story was paced really well and there was a really interesting plot that I cannot remember anymore for the life of me.

I CAN'T FIND STUFF LIKE THAT ANYMORE. Everything sucks. It's all written by twelve-year olds. Ayano immediately is head over heels over some random Mary Sue that moves to her school and immediately forgets about her precious senpai. Awful, I hate it, get it outta here.

Not to mention that almost all of the fanfiction that I'm finding is just. porn.

.

.

.

.

SHE'S A HIGH SCHOOLER. Like, what? I mean, I'm pretty sure it's just weird preteens writing these fanfictions but still. Ick.

If anyone has some good Ayano Aishi/reader fanfics that they can recommend, hit me up because I am DYING out here.

Rant over 😤

[greenlantern94to04]

Those Weird Hal Jordan Comics Between "Reign of the Supermen" and "Emerald Twilight"

I've always been fascinated by that brief, strange period in Green Lantern and Justice League comics between Coast City's destruction and Hal Jordan's heel turn, also known as "The Sling Era" (known by me, I just came up with it). The way Hal was handling the death of his 7 million bestest friends varied wildly from issue to issue, almost as if the writers were trying to tell us that he was already having a psychotic breakdown.

Of course, we all know that Hal only behaved that way because DC had no clue what they were gonna do with the character until they went and did it, but it's still kinda fun to look back at that period and search for hints that couldn't possibly be there. So let's do that:

Justice League International #56-57 (October 1993)

These issues came out on the same month as Green Lantern #46 (the Hal vs. Mongul issue) and clearly take place before Coast City went boom, since Hal isn't wearing the sling on his arm yet. I'm including them here anyway because of this telling exchange between Hal and Power Girl, who'd recently found out she was pregnant. For context, Hal and PG had gotten pretty close while they were both in the JLI... but not as close as Hal would have liked:

Maybe it wasn't Coast City's destruction what drove Hal mad -- it was the thought of Aquaman getting into his "girlfriend's" pants before him. (It turned out PG had been magically impregnated by Atlantean wizards, so at least Hal was in the right ballpark.)

JLI #57 includes this amusing moment after Metamorpho says the League won't be the same without Elongated Man and his wife Sue:

Haha, yeah, a member of the JLI turning evil... can you imagine?

Green Lantern #47 (November 1993)

This Green Arrow team-up is pretty much a filler issue with a couple of references to Coast City's destruction thrown in. No one seems that distraught about the fact that their city just exploded. For the most part, you wouldn't know this was a post-"Reign of the Supermen" issue if Hal wasn't wearing that sling on his arm.

Hal and Oliver Queen get caught up in a dumb plot involving Hal's ex, Carol Ferris, his pal Tom "Pieface" Kalmaku, and robot doubles of Carol's dead dad created by her mom due to her "nervous problems." The most intriguing part is Ollie telling Hal "I'm seeing something in your eyes that I never saw there before." (Spoilers: it's murder.)

Later, Hal gives a speech about finally moving on from Carol and "letting go of the past" (so, the opposite of what he's about to do). He also implies that he's gonna be pursuing another of his love interests, Olivia Reynolds, who's trying to get financing for a GL toy line.

The issue ends with Olivia noticing that one of her Green Lantern action figures "lost his head." That's probably the only intentional foreshadowing for "Emerald Twilight" in these issues, but it could just as easily be a tease for another dumb plot that never happened because they switched writers after this issue.

Superman #83 (November 1993)

As mentioned when I covered this issue at the Superman '86 to '99 blog, Hal is in a pretty dark mood here. When Lex Luthor Jr. shows up uninvited to the superheroes' "funeral" for Coast City, Hal bluntly says "This is a private affair. Get rid of him." Then, when Lex says they could salvage some alien tech from Engine City, Hal insists that they just "let it die."

Aquaman (there's that jerk again) takes issue with Hal's idea of dumping a city-sized engine into the ocean. Superman tries to calm everyone down, but Hal snaps and says: "I'm tired of talking! (...) My friends are buried under this junk heap and I'm not about to let it stand as their tombstone!" Later, after Engine City has been safely disposed of and Superman has erected the monument to the dead, there's an exchange between Hal and Ollie that's more meaningful than anything in Green Lantern #47:

Okay, "Can't win 'em all!" isn't the most sensitive way to talk about genocide, but you have to admit it's in-character.

Justice League International #59-60 (December 1993-January 1994)

Hal skipped JLI #58, and the next two issues are mostly set in an alternate timeline caused by a time-traveler who undid the origins of several superheroes, including Hal himself. Conveniently, this means that these issues don't have to deal with our Hal's mental state. In the alternate timeline, Guy Gardner is the heroic Green Lantern while Hal is his biggest fan. Once they figure out the truth, Guy decides to use the ring to go back in time and fix the timeline but Hal tries to stop him, because he knows Heroic Guy will turn into Guy Guy in the corrected reality.

Pretty ironic that Hal didn't want to restore the timeline because he was afraid of Guy losing his "sanity," and then he was the one who went insane (while Guy entered what's probably his most heroic period). Good Guy ultimately sacrifices himself for the greater good, making Hal think: "If this does turn me into Green Lantern... I can only pray that I'll have half the courage and nobility of Guy Gardner!"

Once Hal's memory is restored, they ask him if he can use the ring to travel to the 70th century and stop the villain from creating this whole mess in the first place, but he says he'd "need the whole Green Lantern Corps to do that!" So Hal thinks that if he had the power of every GL, he could change the course of history? Interesting.

Justice League America #83 (December 1993)

Hal is wearing the sling in this issue, so it's definitely set after Coast City's destruction, but he's perfectly calm and seems more concerned with regular League business than reshaping the universe. Maybe he's just trying to bury himself in work?

Valor #14 (December 1993)

Another Sling Era issue. Valor asks some Justice Leaguers if by any chance they know any cures to lead poisoning, which he's currently dying of. Hal says "I wish to God I could help... but there are limits to what my power ring can do." But... maybe there shouldn't be?!

Bloodbath #1-2 (December 1993)

A sling-wearing Hal shows up in the two-part finale of the regrettable "Bloodlines" crossover, though the sling is missing in some panels (perhaps he was already getting better). The only noteworthy interactions here are: 1) Deathstroke telling Hal "Remember that I'm one of the good guys today," 2) Hal referring to the Guardians of the Universe as "control freaks," and 3) Hal telling Superman not to beat himself up because he wasn't around to stop the alien invasion of Metropolis (he was dead at the time). This last scene is by far the best part of the issue, because of a typo when Superman is supposed to say "Poor Metropolis":

Geez, what are they feeding those cows down there?

Eclipso #15-16 (January-February 1994)

Sling Hal and other superheroes (plus Lex Jr., for some reason) talk in the United Nations about the menace of Eclipso, who at the time was president of a small country and had access to nuclear weapons. Then Eclipso shows up and beats them all in two panels, literally.

Hal's only role in Eclipso #16 is as an unconscious body on the floor of the UN. I think I'd also go crazy from the humiliation.

Justice League International #61 (February 1994)

And finally, Hal's last appearance as a member of the JLI consisted of him saying he wished he could help, but he has "pressing business as a Green Lantern!" That pressing business turned out to be crying on a crater and then... well, we'll see that soon enough.

I agree with whoever that guy is: Hal's "I'll be in touch soon" DOES sound pretty ominous. Note that this issue takes place directly after the end of JLI #60 (Hal must have put on the sling between panels). This means that the last thing Hal Jordan did before the start of "Emerald Twilight" was traveling to the far future to stop a supervillain from reshaping history. Wonder if that gave him any ideas...

NEXT: "Emerald Twilight"! And the guy this blog is supposed to be about finally shows up!

[cuprohastes]

Walkin' Pace

Humans are persistance predators. Also scavengers and a whole bunch of other stuff depending on circumstance. This means we have this weird ability to walk long past the point of other animals dropping dead from heart failure.

No i'm not kidding, we can do that. That's what Persistance Predator means.

This amazeballs skill atrophies if you plant your ass and move the least amount you can. That's life. And then one day you encounter a Walker and they mosey around not going anywhere very fast, and you race around and... at a certain point your knees and hips give out and they're still going - And they keep going on and on and suddenly you're empathising with some hoofy creature on the Serengeti who's having a really shit day due to these fucking walking apes.

Anyway, @what-even-is-thiss was talking about this and that's what set me off.

As someone who walks a mile to the store then a mile uphill with all my phat lewt, I can confirm it's a hell trek and then after a couple of weeks it's not so bad. uh a good backpack will help. As will good shoes.

Anyway the secret is pacing. Do not rush. Unless you're constantly being timed... take it slow, get a gait, roll your hips if you need to.

Look, pretend you have huge tits and no sports bra / Gigantic 'nads and your underwear offers no support.

OK now how fast do you want to move? Great, so just keep going until you get a nice easy rhythm. Think about being a superhero or a Wizard (unisex) or a dragon (also unisex, but you might have just become Furry) or write a Mary Sue about your favourite show.

But please resist the urge to kill and eat any animals you encounter along the way.

Also take breaks, hydrate, don't worry if you're sweaty. Nobody fucking cares, they're just going to assume you did some exercise. This is considered OK and Good so will not be commented on.

And don't over-tighten your shoes. if you feel like your toes are all broken, your shoes are too tight and even loosening the laces may not help. Time to get softer shoes with impact absorbing heels.

And now you have the cool ability to say shit like 'It's only a few miles, I'll walk it'.

[argumentalist]

The grandaddy Gundam, and the grandaddy of all Real Grade kits...

I really enjoyed the RG Zaku II I built, so I had to get another Real Grade kit. And I figured I ought to start from the very beginning, with RG01, so I could see how the line has evolved.

Imagine my surprise when Bandai announced a 2.0 version of this kit. Now I'm eagerly waiting to get my hands on that one so I can compare the builds.

Once again, my mind was blown by the Advanced MS Joint runner. I just don't understand this thing. I can't wrap my head around the engineering needed to produce movable joints on a single runner like this.

But I also don't really understand the point... It's got to be expensive and time-consuming to make something like that. Wouldn't it be easier to just build a normal inner-frame?

I absolutely love the detail in this RG kit. Five tiny pieces to assemble a bit of ankle armor that'd be just one or two pieces in an HG kit.

Unfortunately that detail leads to increase complexity and some unfortunate compromises. This ankle armor, for example, makes the heel very weak. It's hard to get a good, solid pose out of the feet.

I thought I'd lost a piece for good.

I was putting this tiny little almost-invisible bit of grey plastic into the leg, slipped, and it just vanished. One moment it was there, the next it was gone.

I never heard it hit anything or land anywhere. I spent about an hour crawling around under my desk... But the plastic is the same color as my carpet. I thought for sue it was gone for good.

I ran the robovac overnight in a vague hope that it might find the piece... And it did! The next morning I emptied out the dustbin and there it was.

I need to work on my building and detailing process...

I like to do the panel-lining during the build. I find it easier to do before everything is completely assembled. But I later discovered that some of the decals were supposed to go over areas I'd panel-lined already.

Maybe I need to do decals during assembly too?

The detail, again, is just fantastic. I'm kind of stunned at what they can cram into this tiny little 1/144 scale model. So many different shades of color, tiny little bits of plastic, gimmicks. Little opening hatches and moving pieces of armor. Amazing.

There's even a tiny little transforming core fighter. It can fold up and go into the Gundam's torso - just like in the anime.

While I did build and fully detail the core fighter, I decided not to actually use it in the model. You lose a little bit of flexibility if you use the core fighter instead of the MS Joint part.

I thought it'd be a shame to use the included sticker-style decals on such an intricate model, so I grabbed some waterslide decals. These aren't anything special - just the official Bandai waterslides for the kit.

They're basically a duplicate of the sticker-style decals that are in the box. This means that everything is accurate... But you also get some weird, boring, flat versions of the metallic stickers from the box. I'm really not sure why you'd use those for anything.

And, of course, once the decals were done I had to topcoat the whole thing. I did a couple very light passes with the Mr. Hobby matte topcoat and I think it turned out well. Things still softened and blurred maybe a little more than I wanted them to... But the end result wasn't horrible.

Once again, I thoroughly enjoyed this build. I love the level of detail and complexity in the Real Grade line. It's absolutely fantastic.

Unfortunately the kit is a little soft and fragile once it's built. It's not falling apart on my desk... But it didn't like being handled much. I kept losing thruster bells off the backpack when I tried to pose it.

I'm eager to see what the 2.0 is like. How detailed it is. What they do (or don't do) with that MS Joint runner. How it'll compare to this grandaddy of grandaddies.

[bigmouthlass]

Title:  Weeping Into Our Beers

Author:  BJ

Fandom:  Big Sky, Werewolf: The Apocalypse, World of Darkness

Warnings: Graphic Descriptions Of Violence

Rating:  Explicit

Pairing:  Beau Arlen/OFC

Synopsis: Wounded warriors from very different worlds find some comfort in each other.

Tags:  Beau Arlen, Emily Arlen, Carla del Lugo, Sarah Fights-The Mighty (OFC), Crossover, AU, Bar Therapy, One-Night Stand

AN:  Sarah is my longest-held and dearest personal avatar -- or Mary Sue if you wanna be a jerk about it -- from a Werewolf The Apocalypse phase I went through way back in high school. For the nerds who care, she's a Black Fury Philodox and practicing ecoterrorist, who's buried a lot of loved ones including and especially her only daughter. In case anyone's coming from that side of the tracks, Beau Arlen is the acting sheriff of Lewis and Clark County (county seat Helena, Montana, USA), a transplanted Texas whose daughter was kidnapped and nearly killed by a serial killer. In this headcanon Big Sky takes place in the World of Darkness and Beau's an innocent human who has no idea werewolves exist. All recognizable intellectual properties are owned by their respective creators and holders of any trademarks or copyrights. This is a not-for-profit work of fan art and is protected by Fair Use.

---

Beau Arlen wasn't above playing up to clichés, it helped people feel comfortable around him.  Like not code-switching to hide his accent, using informal-yet-courtly manners, exaggerating his bowed legs a little when he walked.  Someone could call this just another cliché, the hard-drinking Texan seeking truth in the bottom of a beer bottle.  Well better a beer bottle than a whiskey glass, he supposed.  And nobody who knew the story would begrudge him seeking a little chemical comfort.

Still, there was a reason he was drinking at Longhorns as opposed to the Boot Heel tonight.  He was in a weird mood, and it was the kind of weird mood that led to bad decisions.  If Mo Poppernack, Lord bless him and his offbeat cheer, hit him with any more well-meaning kindness he just might knock the poor guy's block off.

A few seats down the bar, a couple got up.  Beau studied them in his peripheral vision.  Not a couple-couple, the body language was wrong.  Family he'd guess, even thought they looked nothing alike.  The man was six feet of ugly, black hair and bad acne scars, with a New York City accent that sounded like sandpaper being rubbed together.  The woman was older, petite and stocky, long brown hair pulled back into a French braid, her voice deep with a rasp that said cigarettes.  They embraced.

"Take care of yourself Chainsaw," the woman said, soft and tender.

"You too boss," the man said, touching her face.  "Don't get too drunk, okay?"

"No promises."

The man left.  The woman stood there for a moment before hauling in a deep sigh and sitting back up to the bar.  She glanced around.  Beau noted her eyes were a fine blue-gray, sharp as she checked the exits and counted heads.  Her jacket fell open as she stretched, and Beau didn’t see a weapon.  Funny, she sure as hell behaved like a woman expecting a fight and a bloody one at that.  Beau also noted a wide scar across her left cheek, four parallel lines like Freddy Kruger had cut her with his glove.

---

"So, the question becomes,” Sarah said, picking up her beer, “how drunk is too drunk?"

"Well, that's more of a philosophical question, I find."  Sarah glanced down at the resident of the stool a few slots down the bar.  A charming smile shone out from a short beard, one that found an echo on her own face.  "Unless motor vehicles are involved in which case too drunk equals 0.08 blood alcohol content or over."

"No vehicles involved," Sarah confirmed, mirroring his folksy slant on VEE-hicles.  "I'm staying at the motel a couple doors down."

"Oh well in that case," he tipped the neck of his own beer in a little salute, "however much proves as needed to thoroughly drown your sorrows."

Sarah chuckled.  "Too bad my sorrows have gills."

He grimaced.  "Oooh.  Yikes."

"I just settle for taking them out back and giving them a bath every now and again," she added, finishing off her beer and asking the bartender for a glass of water.

"Sound plan.  Very sound," the charming man approved.  He lifted his bottle, "My sorrows,” he drank, cleared his throat, “they just refuse to drown."

"Bastards found submarines?"

He laughed and Sarah felt her heart do that liftoff thing it did sometimes.  He really was very handsome.  Reminded her a little of Mark.  Similar coloring anyway, those fine green eyes he’d given Charlie before he split.  "We're way overthinking this metaphor."

"Just a skoash," Sarah agreed, and they shared a smile.

The charming man gave her a closer look and Sarah let him.  Some company would be nice.  Pull her out of her own thoughts for a while.  "I'm Beau," he identified himself, stretching to extend a hand across the empty barstools.

Sarah took it, noting a grip firm enough to be friendly.  "Sarah."

"Mind if I join you?"

"Be my guest," she said, and Beau moved the few seats down.  Stood about six-two, jeans, boots, sheepskin-lined coat, silver belt buckle about the size of her palm.  Forty-ish, she guessed, and he wore his years well.  Better than she was at any rate, with gray threading her hair thicker by the week.

"So, my interesting new friend," Sarah said, "what're your sorrows that they're lurking in submarines?"

"That's a long story."

Sarah shrugged.  "I got time.  Who knows?  Maybe talking them out a little'll make the fuckers drown faster."

Beau considered her.  She saw him noticing her scar, making a mental note of it.  "You're not from around here are you?"

"Obviously," Sarah said dryly.  "You aren't either.  Texas?"

"Got it in one."  He signaled the bartender and ordered, paying for Sarah's like a gentleman.  "Friend of mine was County Sheriff when he got wounded on the job.  He called me to fill in temporarily."

"That must've ruffled some feathers."

"Not as many as you might think although that might be a case of delayed reaction."

Sarah listened and sipped as Beau unbottled and laid out one hell of a story.  It was a struggle to keep her poker face when he described the serial killer who'd kidnapped his daughter.  Revenge or justice or both-- burning the Panty Man didn't make Charlie any less gone, forever lost before she really had a chance to live.  "Thank the Goddess your daughter's all right," she said.

"I mean, yeah, Em's tough.  Shit she's doing better than her mom’n’me."  Oh boy, could Sarah relate, the pups taking in stride what broke their elders.  "Carla's moving back down to Houston, permanently.  Her family's all there.  She needs the support system.  Come to find out plenty of her friends were really Avery's friends and they didn't have much use for her with him gone."

"Assholes," Sarah gave her opinion.

Beau shrugged it off.  "Last time I talked to her Emily asked me point-blank if I was gonna relocate with them."

"You thinking of getting back together with your ex?"

He thought a moment.  "It's funny.  Ask me that question a year-- hell, even six months ago, I'd've leapt at the chance.  Carla . . . she's one of the most amazing women I've ever met.  I think I'm a better man than I was when she left me.  I know I could be a better husband to her.  I’ll always love her."

"But?"

"But."  Beau sighed.  "But the issues that drove her away, those haven't gone anywhere.  And I don't know if we'll be good to each other, after Emily goes off to college, starts living on her own."  After a moment's thought, Beau added, "Avery was a grade-A jackass but Carla loved him.  She's still in mourning.  I don't think trying to get back with her will do anything but end badly."

Sarah made an educated guess and said, "Besides, there might be someone else."

Beau's eyebrows lifted, just a little.  "Are you a cop in your day job or just really good at bar therapy?"

That surprised her into a chuckle.  "People open up to me.  Goddess knows why.  Who is she?"

"One my deputies.  Tubbs's undersheriff," he confessed.  Sarah winced.  "Yeah.  I mean, she's . . . beautiful, tough, smart.  Brave?  Hell she kicks down doors better'n I do.  I think . . ." he trailed off, shook his head.  "So yeah, there might be someone else.  But then there might not be.  She lost her husband little over a year ago, went through a real rocky patch right after.  I'm not sure . . . I don't know if she's really put all that in her rearview.  Plus, she's technically my subordinate and anti-fraternization regulations are a thing that exist.

"It's not just her though," Beau admitted.  "I moved up here pretty much done with ever’thing.  Not just from the job either.  Didn't see much point to doin' anything but the daily routine.  Some days not even that."  Sarah nodded.  She could relate to that too.  "Then Tubbs asked me to fill in for him, just until he got back on his feet.  Now it's looking like he's retiring completely and his job needs filling.  The City Council asked me if I'm considering running for the office next year.  I have to give them an answer by close of business Monday."

Sarah whistled.  "No pressure or anything."

"Nope.  I mean, it shouldn't even be a choice, really.  Any other candidates I can think of are local boys'n'girls.  Who'm I?  I'm just the out-of-towner who happened to be in the big chair when the murder rate spiked to the highest it's been in fifteen years.  And there's Emily to think of.  I . . . I lost a big chunk of her life when I was going through my bad time.  I don't want to lose any more."

"Buuuuuuut?" Sarah dragged out.

"But," Beau said, signaling for another beer.  "But I have a life here, a good life.  Last thing I expected.  I mean, I like the country.  I like the people.  I got a job that might lead to me doin’ some good, 'stead of just playing Catch Me Screw Me with the cartels all day ev'ry day."

"Okay," Sarah said, considering as she finished her beer and asked for another water.

"Ah," Beau said, lighting up like a man who'd just solved a riddle.  He really was unfairly handsome, Sarah thought.  "Pacin’ yourself?"

"Takes the curse off the hangover," Sarah lied.  "And I've made some dumb decisions while drunk."

"Mmm?  What sorta dumb decisions?"

"Aggravated assault decisions," Sarah said.  Before he could ask, she amplified, "Got in a bar fight with a couple of dickheads over a Lions game.  Put'em in the hospital.  Took a plea, did a year, completed my probation about fifteen years ago.  Luna's blood I feel old now."

"I'm impressed."

"Don't be," Sarah said, noting the closer look he gave her.  She'd admit to going to seed a bit the last few years.  "I took boxing lessons all through high school.  I've got a decent left for my size.  And the other guys were really drunk."  Being able to ignore pain at will helped there.  Shifting to Glabro to match their height helped too.

"Makes sense," Beau shrugged.  "What're your sorrows that they need drowning?"

"Nothing that can really be helped," Sarah said, thinking of Misty giving her pups suck and glowing with joy, Chainsaw taking his broken heart back to the solace of his people and trying so hard not to blame her for losing Tripwire.  Roger, oh Gaia and Her mercy Roger--  "The inevitable march of time.  Makes me mopey.  Your problem on the other hand, sounds like something that can be addressed plain and simple.  Stay or go?"

"What do you think?  You have kids?"

"Had," Sarah said, her heart throbbing along the scar.  Charlie had lived there once, under her heart.  "She died."

"Oh Christ, I'm sorry," Beau said.  It was fascinating, she could read his heart in his face.  "I feel like a dick, whining about--"

"Hey," Sarah said, twisting in her seat and reaching over to take his hand.  "We're not talking about me, we're talking about you.  Let me ask you this; have you talked to your daughter about what she wants?"

"Yeah.  She didn't come right out'n say so but she wants me close.  She feels safe with me.  God knows why."

"Because she knows for a fact you'll deconstruct anyone who so much as looks at her wrong," Sarah said.  She thought a minute.  "Your girl's how old, sixteen, seventeen?"

"She'll be seventeen in a few months."

"My advice, for what it's worth," Sarah said, "is call her tomorrow when you both have time to talk.  Ask her what she needs from you.  Does she need her daddy or does she need her father?"

"There's a difference?" Beau asked.  He hadn't moved to take his hand back.  Instead he gripped at her fingers.

"Yeah, there is.  Daddy makes your problems go away.  Father helps you fight them yourself.  If you try to be her father when she really needs her daddy, you'll wind up making her feel alone.  Unsafe.  If you try to be her daddy when she needs her father, you'll wind up undermining her sense of herself.  That'll push her away, just when she really does need you."

Beau stares at you.  "That's possibly the least stupid thing I've heard in a long time."

"Oh thanks," Sarah snorted.

"No I meant-- sorry, I didn't say that right."

"What I mean is," Sarah said, "if you're making the decision for her sake, it might not be a bad idea to make her feel like she's got something of a say in it.  You got a life here that you like and want to keep, and that's okay.  But you got a duty to her.  Wise woman told me once, if there's a conflict between your head and your heart duty gets the tiebreaker.  At least then if it turns out you made a mistake you won't get eaten alive by your own conscience."

Quiet from her drinking partner as he finished off his beer.  He didn't let go of her hand and Sarah didn't take it back.  Been a while, since she'd felt warm at the thought of a man's hands.  His were nice, big and thick-fingered, nails clipped close and tidy.

"Thank you," he said as he put the dead soldier down.  "That actually helps a lot."

"What'd'you think you'll wind up doing?"

"I don't know," he admitted.  "Least now I can think the problem through instead of just brooding over it.  But now I got another problem."

"Mmm?  What's that?" Sarah asked.

A slow smile lit the other man's face, turning him from nice to look at to honestly breathtaking.  "I gotta think of another problem for you to solve for me."

Sarah laughed.  "Smooth."

"Sorry, been a while since I tried to be good company to a lady."

"Lady?  Lady?  What lady?  Where lady?" Sarah asked, miming a confused look-around.  "Shit I wish you'd've told me you were trying to be a gentleman, I'd've used my company manners."

"No no no," he deflected with a raised hand, "you've been delightful.  I'm just sorry I'm out of problems for you to solve for me."

"If you're having car trouble I can take a look--" Sarah teased.

"Naw, Pedro's running like a sweetheart."  No mistake now, his hand was holding hers.  His thumb swiped across the soft skin across the back.  Beau pivoted in his seat, opening his body more to Sarah.  "I, uh . . ."

"Is this the part where you invite me over for coffee or am I supposed to invite you for coffee?  I haven't done the coffee thing in a while," Sarah put it out there.  "Cuz if you don't mind a walk I'd love to have you over for coffee."

Beau considered.  His eyes were a little soft with the effect of the beers.  It made him look even cuter.  Luna's blood he must've harvested broken hearts by the truckload when he was younger.  "I'd like that.  Some coffee."

---

"Oh we need to make a pit stop at the 7-11," Sarah noted as they walked through the bar's parking lot.

"Oh yeah?  What for?" Beau asked.

"Coffee.  You take cream and sugar?"

That surprised him into a laugh.

---

Beau paused when he got down to her underwear.  "It's okay," Sarah reassured him as he looked her over.  At the roadmap of battle scars all over her body.  "If they're a mood-killer for you that's fine.  We can get a good night's sleep and no hard feelings."

"They're very much not," Beau said, touching her face.  "Just don't find it so weird you put a couple guys in the hospital all of a sudden."

Beau had a few battle scars of his own, some knife cuts and a couple of bullet holes.  He seemed to view them dispassionately, a source of neither pride nor shame.  "Mmm," he grunted as Sarah traced light fingers over his ribs.  "Tickles."

"Sorry."  She firmed her touch, slid her hand to caress his chest.  Firm definition under a healthy layer of squish, haired up a bit across his pecs and down his tummy.  She picked up his hand and examined the tattoo on the inside of his forearm-- a fleur-de-lis with a crown and anchor.  "This is French isn't it?"

"Mmm-hmm," Beau said.  "My mother's family's French.  My real legal name's Beaumont Theodore Arlen."

"Beaumont Theodore?  You poor poor boy," Sarah said.

Smiling, Beau put a hand on her shoulder.  "What about this?" his thumb rubbed over the tribal pictogram inked below her collarbone.  Faded with age, not that it mattered.

"Sort of a family mark," Sarah vastly oversimplified.  "The ones on my arms're relics of a gang I ran with when I was younger.  And what have we got here?" she asked as she put her palm over his zipper.

"Well darlin’ thishere's a fella love'ta meet you very much," Beau grinned.

"Luna's blood don't tell me you named it," Sarah groaned around her giggles, as she worked his button open and slowly lowered the zipper.  "On second thought," she said after working his pants down enough to get a look at him, "a fella this handsome probably deserves a name."

"We don't really blush in Texas, so let me," Sarah squeaked as Beau reared up and flipped them over, pinning her beneath his body and giving her a kiss, "demonstrate my appreciation."

"Oh my," Sarah sighed.  Beau kissed down the pad of tummy fat, carefully avoiding the straight line of her hysterectomy scar.  "Your mama raised a very polite boy."  Tipping her a wink, Beau split her with his thumbs and applied his mouth.  Sarah just shut her eyes and enjoyed it.  She couldn't remember the last time a man had done that for her.

"Such a mess for me," Beau noted when he came up for air.  Hot and flushed and panting, Sarah watched him squirm his pants off to land of the floor.  He belly-crawled and rolled to flop next to Sarah, hot and really unfairly fucking glorious in his birthday suit.  He had his wallet in his hand and with a little pleased grunt he pulled a condom out of the inner pocket.

"Allow me," Sarah said, taking the packet away from him.  Beau gave a little be-my-guest wave.  He fit in her hand just right, hot and firm.  Hearing him moan was lovely, as she clamped the condom packet between her lips and just played with him.  Easy to forget how much fun cocks were to just play with.

Beau seized Sarah's hand.  "Gotta stop a second," he panted.  "It's late, I'm tired, and I'm pretty sure I'm only gonna be able to do this once."

"Sorry, got carried away," Sarah said.  Wrapping him up was the work of a minute.  "How do you want me, cowboy?"

“Mmm . . . right about here I think,” Beau said, tugging her up and rolling her beneath him.  Sarah sighed as he pressed into her.  He was warm, warm and thick.  “Oh you make little sounds,” Beau said, because of course he was a talkative lover.

“Careful please,” Sarah said, breathing through the stretch, Little Beau wasn’t very little and it’d been a while.

“Accourse, accourse,” Beau kissed her.  “Lord Jesus you feel nice.  All soft and warm.”

“Careful, careful,” Sarah said as Beau braced his arm on the bed.  He lifted her leg and his hips moved in a wave.  Sarah sighed, he was moving inside her just so nice.  “Goddess yes,” she sighed.

Grinning big and bright, Beau brought her carefully to the edge and over.

As sparkles snapped along her nerves, Sarah flipped Beau over and returned the favor.

---

Glass cool and dusty under his fingertips, the heart inside still vivid red with the living blood it had once driven forth.  Twist slowly clockwise and the masking tape label bearing the single word in Sharpie -- EMILY--

Whirl around and there she was, the she become an it, laying with eyes open and empty right along with the chest.  And more.  There were other jars, other names.

CARLA.  RANDY.  BEN.  DENISE.  CASSIE.

Open empty eyes, open empty bodies, and the knife with her name was in his hand--

Beau woke up gasping.  Breathing exercises, breathing exercises, pull on the air there's plenty of it.  Beau pulled in for five heartbeats, pushed out for five heartbeats.  In, out.  His heart slowed as his breathing did.  Under the sheets his toes clenched and relaxed.  Beau let the motion ground him, pull him back to himself and the world where Emily was okay and it was just a dream.

And a world where he wasn't alone tonight.  How 'bout that.

Sarah wasn't any kind of beauty, a woman pushing fifty who'd lived hard and looked it.  On the other hand, she'd been kind without making him feel like he needed to be managed like Carla, and without the baggage of mutual attraction like Jenny, and not someone whose good opinion he cared about like Cassie or someone who’d been through enough already like Denise.  Beau got feelings about people sometimes, and his intuitions told him Sarah was good at carrying secret things.

He checked his phone, nodded at the lack of messages, and burrowed back under the covers.  As he did, Sarah grunted a bit.  Her muscles were rigid and her breathing was short and shallow.  Carefully, Beau spooned himself behind her.  "Hey there," he said softly, kissing her shoulder, "hey wake up, it's a dream, shh."

"I know that babe," she said, sleepy but clear, "I've had bad dreams all my life."  She rolled over and let Beau pull her close.  Kissing him, she asked, "What about you?  You okay?"

"Yeah."  He kissed the top of her head.  Stroking down her back and making a mental map of the scars under his fingers.  "My daughter's okay, the bad guy's dead."

"Right.  Just your imagination being a dick to you."  That made him chuckle.  "Go back to sleep.  Sounds like you could use it."

"Yeah," Beau agreed.  He took a breath from her hair, smelling cigarettes and beer and sex.  All that plus a warm body alongside his-- all of it pulling him far away from his usual and customary.  It felt nice, a little time-out from his reality where all the choices seemed bad for one reason or another. Beau shut his eyes and let fatigue do its thing.

When he woke up next the bed was empty and the room was full of morning light.  The bathroom door was shut and he could hear the blow dryer.  And singing-- Beau chuckled when he heard Sarah's alto voice singing something he didn't recognize.  Something sweet and melancholy, something that made Beau wish for his guitar.  God, there's something he hadn't thought seriously about in forever, just one of the many small joys that had died with Randy--

That's not true, something in his head spoke up, and for once the voice was gentle instead of accusatory.  Not dead, just put away for a while.  He wondered if Jenny sang, wondered if her voice went high and sweet or deep and smooth--

As he thought he sat up and found his phone.  No messages, thank the good Lord.  As he sent a quick good morning text to Emily, the blow dryer shut off.  "I alone, survived the sinking," Sarah's voice went softer, mindful that someone might be sleeping, "I alone, possessed the tools, on that ship of fools."

Sometimes a man is cursed with the need to know a thing.  Beau opened the browser on his phone and started typing.

The bathroom door opened and Sarah emerged wrapped in a towel, brushing out her long brown hair.  "Oh, good morning.  Shower's free."

"Thanks," Beau gave her a smile and hit the restroom.

---

Sarah got dressed as Beau got cleaned up and ready to face the day.  The day was shaping up beautifully, just right for a long drive down out of the mountains.  Been a long time since she'd been so by herself, not tied up in her responsibilities as pack alpha or sept warder or tribal elder or den mother.  And such lovely new memories to reflect on, she thought with a smile.  If tired and drunk Beau was this fantastic in bed she truly envied the woman who landed him long-term, scars and all.

She was just finishing up with the packing when the bathroom door opened.  "Hey," she said, "I'm on my way out the door but if you want we could grab some breakfast and I can drop you off somewhere."

It wasn't Beau looking at her, it was a cop studying a suspect.  Those beautiful eyes said very clearly bullshit me at your own risk.  "I know who you are."

"Really," Sarah said, pulling her bag up onto her back.  She stood straight and met his hard stare with her own.  "And who am I?"

"Stalinski, Sarah Michaela," Beau recited.  "Person of interest in the Chippewa Valley reactor bombing, person of interest in the Exxon Transit Pipeline sabotage, suspect in the murder of Willard Mikaelian--"

"AKA the Panty Man, and my daughter was his last victim," Sarah pointed out.  He never got to hurt another baby girl again, was the part she didn't say.  The law didn’t handle him for shit.  I did.  She left that part unsaid too.

Beau blinked, but that was all.  "You've got an FBI file thicker'n the King James Bible and your name's on half a dozen terrorist watch lists."

Sarah kept his gaze.  She really didn't want to hurt him if she didn't have to, not as a cop doing his duty.  "So."

"So."

"Am I under arrest?  Being taken in for questioning?  Detained just for the hell of it?"  Because that wasn't happening.

He didn't answer right away.  "No.  No, the only thing I can honestly accuse you of is getting drunk in a bar.  Which isn't illegal."

"Then,” Sarah asked, clapping her hands on her thighs, “why the dramatic reveal?  You wanna feel like you got the upper hand on me?  You got it, you win, fair and square."  He hadn’t and never would, but if the Goddess was good he’d never know that.

"Fine,” Beau said, and Sarah made a mental note to check his bloodlines because a human should not have this much presence, “I want you out of my county, and I don't want to ever see your face here again.  If I do I will turn you over to the feds.  Clear?"

Sarah raised an eyebrow.  "Your county?  Sheriff?"

Beau blinked.

"Sounds like your decision's been made.  And message received-- Helena is a no-fly zone from now on."  Sarah opened the door, but turned to look back at her one-night lover.  "For what it's worth," she said, "you're a good man, and you need to cut yourself some slack.  Take care of yourself Beau Arlen."

With that food for thought plated and served, Sarah shut the door and headed for the car.  Stranger In Town went in the stereo and Sarah drove away into the risen sun.

---

AN2: The scene stuck in my head so hard, I had to write it out. I just got done watching Big Sky, and it's a deep shame the series wasn't picked up for a fourth season-- I'd've loved to have seen Beau and Jenny running head-to-head in the next sheriff's election. Oh, and gotten more Emily. I love Emily.