#tentative space core tag

[spewpurr]

Just played the Portals for the first time, like, a month or two ago. I have a lot of thoughts, but this is the one that really wanted to come out first, I guess.

[miyukisu]

Between Me and You .ᐟ

❤︎ | While your other friends are enjoying themselves on your little camping trip, you and Kaiser were secretly fucking around (3k wc) ╰ feat. michael kaiser (bllk) x afab! reader

kinktober entry no. 6 | kinktober masterlist

tags - exhibitionism, car fun, fingering, hand jobs, kaiser is a bit desperate, camping trip, p in v, breeding, p*rn with plot, profanity, kaiser and reader banter a bit, friends/enemies-ish to lovers

minors do not interact

"Can you stop fucking moving for a second?"

A tone of annoyance filled his voice as he gripped your waist, effectively keeping you in place.

You two found yourselves in a rather interesting position—at the back of your friend's car with nothing else but the equipment you guys brought for the camping trip. You and Kaiser just pulled the short end of the stick hence why the others were enjoying a little bit of space in the cramped car, while you two had none at all.

"Move one more time and I swear to God—"

"What? You'll get harder?" you tease.

Kaiser clicked his tongue. He was already regretting this trip. The first half of the journey was rather peaceful as he probably fell asleep. And maybe it was because he wasn't conscious to keep his "thing" in control—combined with the fact that you had been rubbing against him this entire time—but it wasn't surprising that he was slowly getting hard.

You thought it would be funny to mess with him; you two had that kind of odd relationship anyway. So you rolled your ass against him, pretending that the road was bumpier than it actually is... until he woke up and became aware of the situation.

"I'm not hard," he denies. But the stiff feeling poking at you from behind told you otherwise.

You simply grinded your hips against him again in response—earning a low groan from him.

"Ya alright back there, man?" one of your friends asks, looking in the rear view mirror.

Kaiser breathes in. "Yeah, one of the tent poles just kept poking me and it hurt."

"Something's poking me too," you add, but Kaiser quickly pinches the side of your waist to stop your mischief.

Your friend laughs, completely unaware of what you two were doing at the back of his car. "My bad. Y'all just try your best to get comfortable, a'ight? We got about another hour on the road."

A whole entire hour.

You could either torture yourself by dwelling on the fact that your position was uncomfortable or... you could have fun. But it seems like Kaiser had the same idea as he slowly lifted up the skirt of your sundress. Your eyes widened, fully knowing that the tides have now turned against you.

"Let's see if you like it," he whispers in your ear. His breath felt warm, contrasting the chilly air of the airconditioned vehicle.

The panties you wore today matched the color of your sundress, except he can't really see it with you sitting on his lap like that. Though it hardly mattered. It was coming off later anyway.

He swiped a finger along your core, noticing how damp it had gotten. Kaiser elicits a low chuckle, whispering in your ear again, "Look at how wet you got from grinding on me. Slut."

There was no comeback; how could you deny that? Especially as he presses his thumb on your clit, rubbing it slowly. You were about to moan and fall back against his chest, but his other hand stopped you.

"Hey, remember he can see us through the mirror, right? I'd suggest you behave unless you want them to see you whoring yourself out for me."

You swallowed back your wanton moans. The fact that he had his hand on your pussy so shamelessly was embarrassing enough; you didn't need for the others to find that out too.

But for as embarrassing as it is, you made no effort to swat his hand away. In fact, you let him go on. You let him rub your sensitive clit faster. And you let him hook a finger in the gusset, pulling the fabric out of the way.

He swiped his finger again and it had him snickering. Kaiser pressed a kiss on your shoulder blade as way to show his amusement. "Holy shit. You're dripping for me."

This time, it was you clicking your tongue at him. But again, you were at a loss for words. You were too focused on the way he played with your pussy and his dick that seemed to be getting even harder. It was impossible to ignore how it pressed against the flesh of your ass.

"What? Got nothing to say now? Where did all your attitude go—"

Turning to face him slightly, you pleaded. "Just take responsibility for it... please?"

You swore you felt his dick twitch through his sweats. Kaiser gulped down, not expecting for that kind of response. He wanted you to fight back—be your usual feisty self. What was he to do now?

"Say it again," he whispered lowly.

"Kaiser... please?" you obeyed.

He hated how easily he gave in as well. All he needed was your honeyed pleas and he was sold.

Kaiser clicked his tongue, knowingly facing a predicament. On one hand, he wanted to listen to his lust infested brain. But it was dangerous. He was about to finger fuck you in a car filled with your dearest friends after all.

His free hand held you by the arm. "Be quiet... or else."

You gulped. It was going to be a difficult task, but you'd rather keep your mouth shut than get no relief at all. He slowly slid one finger in as if to test the waters.

As he expected, it was warm and tight. It made his mind race with all sorts of lewd images. He silently cursed himself, knowing that he was in no position to give himself the same kind of relief.

Perhaps, seeing you enjoy yourself on his fingers would get him off... for now at least.

Though his mind was preoccupied on what could and couldn't be—he absentmindedly pushed in two fingers without warning. The way his thumb resumed to rubbing circles on your clit while he pistoned his fingers out of you felt too practiced—like he had done this thing plenty of times in the past.

He skillfully and precisely brought you to orgasm—all the while you were fighting for your life to keep your sounds at bay. Hell, you were sure that you were biting down on your lips hard enough to make it bleed.

Kaiser let you ride out your high, still pushing his fingers in and out… slowly. A breathy rasp leaves his lips as he throws his head back against the seat. To some extent, part of him felt liberated too.

A boundary was crossed—one that you two teetered on for what felt like months. His dick was aching, yes, but a different kind of warmth filled him.

Hope? He wanted to call it that, but it felt pathetic somehow. Kaiser felt a bit stupid—thinking too hard about something else while you’re right here, sitting on his lap all fucked out.

“Enjoyed yourself?” He whispered to you once more.

“Shut up, ass hat.”

He chuckles. “That’s what I get? After fing—“

“Shut the fuck up. I’m serious,” you sneer.

And he did; awkward silence enveloped the two of you as you sat uncomfortably—Kaiser still with his hard on and you with your ruined underwear. All you wanted at this point was to get out of the fucking car.

────────────

“Hey, so uh, where did Kaiser go?”

Your friends seemed to look in your direction, thinking that you of all people should know the whereabouts of the man whose lap you sat on for quite some time. However, you didn’t bother sparing them a glance as you continued to help set up camp.

“How would I know?”

Your friends looked amongst each other, slightly unconvinced by your cluelessness. But they shrugged it off—thankfully. Everyone resumed to their designated camp duties and not long after, Kaiser returned from his so-called bathroom break. Though you had a hunch on what that truly meant.

It was normal for the most part—everything went as you had envisioned it… except for the little fact that Kaiser would be avoiding you.

Here you thought that after your little stunt in the car, he’d be even more forward with you. But it seems to have an opposite effect. Every time your eyes would meet, he’d look away. You didn’t even dare talk to him because you knew he’d gloss over you.

But the fact of the matter was that—Michael Kaiser was too overwhelmed by the sudden shift in your relationship. He was trying his fucking best to keep himself in control. Otherwise, there may be consequences…

Consequences which you will soon know of.

────────────

You think the world likes to play tricks on you because why do you have to sleep in the same tent as him when there were 2? And why oh why did you have to sleep beside him? There were 4 of you inside the tent—but still—you found yourself on the same inflatable mattress, under the same blanket. Because of course, the damn thing only fit for two people.

Your friends thought it was alright considering you two have already broken the barrier of physical touch; they just didn’t know how far that REALLY meant.

As best as you tried to sleep, you felt intense eyes boring into the back of your head. You silently cursed him for not following the unspoken rule of sleeping back to back. This was just impossible.

You turned around to face him, pulling more of the blanket towards you. Your eyes were met with his. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Me?”

“Yes, you. What the fuck’s going on with you?”

He stared blankly at you, lips pressed in a straight line. “Nothing.”

“Cut the bullshit. You’ve been avoiding me the entire time we were here after you… you…”

“After I made you cum in the car?”

The audacity of this man caused you to kick his shin. He had to bite back a pained groan to not wake up the others.

“Was that fucking necessary?” He asked. But his question was met with silence; he took it as a hard resounding yes.

A frustrated sigh spilled from his lips. "Fine. I was avoiding you because... I know I won't be able to control myself around you."

You raise your eyebrow in response, unsure of what he meant exactly. He couldn't help but pinch the bridge of his nose to express his exasperation.

"I was this close," he says while pinching his pointer and thumb together as if to show he was holding something miniscule between the pads of his fingers. "I was this close to fucking you in the car."

Your eyes widened in disbelief. This whole time you thought he had regretted his previous actions back in the car, but you had it totally backwards. It was your turn to sigh.

"You could've just told me," you countered.

"That I wanted to fuck?"

"Yeah."

...

"I wanna fuck then," he says so matter-of-factly. It was almost comical to you that it made you chuckle softly.

"What's so funny, assh—"

You cut him off by pulling him into a soft but passionate kiss. Your palm cupped his cheek and your fingers wove themselves into his silky blonde hair.

He was a good kisser—that much was to be expected. It didn't take long for him to reciprocate and then some, pulling your leg to drape over his hips.

Kaiser wanted—no, needed—you to be closer to him. He had to feel your heat, your presence, your everything.

It was almost animalistic how he tried to devour your lips. It was desperate—like a call for help. Now, you were a hundred percent sure about what he had been doing earlier when he left the group.

You pulled away, breathless. If not for the concept of breathing, you would have gone at it until morning. His bright blue eyes stared into yours.

Kaiser was eerily silent, but mostly because he didn't want to get caught doing something dirty with you in the tent. He let his actions speak for himself—his hand lowering to grope the flesh of your ass.

He squeezed it harshly and without restraint; he was way past that. But he decided that it wasn't enough.

He slowly cupped your pussy with his slender fingers. Surely, he was more excited than you were.

"We can't..." your voice trails off—partially due to disappointment, but mostly because he began rubbing your clit again.

"Why not?"

"What? Are you not aware of the two other people sleeping in here?"

"The fuck do we do then?"

But it would seem that he had no plans of letting you speak. Somehow, his fingers found their way in—past your cotton shorts and past the sorry excuse for panties that you wore.

He had been there earlier, so he wasted no time plunging his fingers as if they belonged there. The slight squelching sound made your stomach knot in fear; you could only hope that your friends were sleeping deeply enough.

"What do we do, pretty?" he asked again, though softer.

But his tone betrayed his actions. He stared at you like he wasn't doing anything dirty to you under that blanket.

"I... we... we can't"

Kaiser hummed. "We can't huh?" But he continues to bully his fingers into you and it made your head spin. Words had failed you at this point, so you held on to his arm—failing miserably at stopping him. But you both knew that you wouldn't want him to stop anyway.

The impending climax clouded your judgement. Part of you felt oddly fine if your friends did end up waking and catching you in the act.

The fear had morphed into forbidden excitement.

But it was too soon as he pulled his hand out, leaving you high and dry.

"You think you can get to cum again after being so selfish in the car?"

He tried his best to remain firm, but the muffled whines you let out slowly chipped at his resolve.

"Nuh uh. You gotta be fair," he argued.

At the very least, you were easy to talk to. You pushed him to lie on his back as you propped yourself up on your shoulder. Your palm caressed his body before sliding down to his aching cock. Finally free from its confines, Kaiser let out a strained sigh of relief.

The blanket was a useless barrier; it barely hid his hard length and the motions of your hand.

You chose to go at a painfully slow pace—it made his head spin. But it was so much better than using his own hand that he found it hard to complain at all.

"Fuckkkk," he drawled out.

His face of pleasure was mesmerizing—eyes glued shut with his jaw hanging loosely. It motivated you... somehow. Speeding up the pace, you eventually brought him to orgasm. His body flinched, but he tried to stop himself—not wanting to show how badly you affected him.

You kept his cock in your hand, amazed that it was still hard even after cumming once. "Shit... how are you still hard?"

"Been thinking about this shit all day... How can I not be?"

His honest words sent a jolt to your core. You thought it was impossible to get even wetter. But he managed to do the impossible.

"Fuck—just turn around, will you?"

He asked, but it sounded more like a command. Kaiser got on to his side once more and guided you to do the same so that your back was against his chest. His warm breath fanned the skin of your neck.

His heart was thumping so hard that you could feel it reverberate in your own body.

"Hold your leg up," he commanded again. And you obeyed like the good girl that you are for him.

Kaiser deftly pushed the fabric that was in his way, lining up his cock against your entrance. He pushed only the tip in, but that alone was tantalizing.

You could hear the way his breath hitched. His hand replaced yours as he held up your leg himself. His long fingers dug into the flesh of your thigh, keeping it high enough so he can fuck into you better.

Slowly, he rolled his hips—getting at least half of his length in. You almost let a moan slip out, but you were cautious enough to slap your hand over your mouth.

Checking to see if they're still asleep, Kaiser figured it was safe enough to sheath himself completely inside you. And he swore it was heaven.

Even he wanted to moan. But the prospect of being discovered and stopped abruptly prevented him from making any sound at all. He wanted this. He wanted it badly. Nothing's going to stop it now.

He languidly rolled his hips back and forth—fucking into you without another thought. His cock stretched you out in a way you've never felt before. But it was good... way too good.

It was a crime not to be a moaning mess right now. The slow and precise thrusts turned into frenzied fucking—like this was going to be the first and last time he'd be able to feel your pussy around his cock.

"Shit... this is way too good. I could get addicted," he whispered. "Gonna make me cum twice in one night."

Although you wanted to respond, it was impossible without moaning like a bitch in heat and getting you two caught. The best you could do was to clench around him.

Kaiser bit into your shoulder, suppressing his own grunts. You felt his grip on your thigh tighten substantially.

"Fuuuuck... can I cum inside? Can I?"

He shuddered. "Please? Shit... I won't last longer."

Your mind was swirling—not a single coherent thought could be formed other than a single word.

"Yes."

You whispered it—over and over again into the dead air. And as if on cue, his hips jerked up, fully shoving himself into your deepest parts and shooting hot ropes of cum.

He filled you up nicely—just as how he had been imagining in the car. Though, his daydreams paled in comparison to the real thing.

Again, he let you ride out your orgasm, not pulling out just yet.

"Hey... wanna see how many more rounds we can do before they wake up?"

©miyukisu do not repost/reupload/translate any of my works on other platforms

╰ author's note I cannot write exhibitionism that well

[janumun]

Nomos (Xavier - NSFW/18+)

Pairing: Xavier/Queen Reader (based on Xavier’s first myth) Word Count: 3.7k Tags: religious imagery/desecration sex, angst, evol bondage, oral sex, orgasm denial, Knight Xavier on his knees repenting to his Queen MC, spoilers for Xavier’s first myth, female dominating, canon divergence, hell hath no fury like a woman scorned

Summary: The Queen of Philos had sacrificed her heart ultimately and along with it, part of her humanity, in the wake of Xavier’s failed Backtrack mission; binding it to Philos’ core for eternity. Now, returned to her, centuries after, Xavier seeks his Goddess’ audience, and her forgiveness, within the stone-cold chambers of her castle. 

But centuries suffered alone, and with her heart now gone, she is a former frigid cast of the woman he used to love. Xavier is adamant on repenting, even if it costs him his life this time round. 

[A fic where Prince Xavier manages to return to Philos but he is too late; his Queen has long thrown her powerful core, her heart, into Philos’ centre and now, she has nothing to offer Xavier but her bitter resentment.]

O celestial body of mine, Slumbering adrift in darkness, Which never heeds the whispers of life, Till it fades into oblivion, nothingness. 

The rolling echo of thunder — knelling an approaching storm — was the only sound that rippled across the heavy, cold silence that had settled itself across the throne room. Wan shadows clung to the wide, dismal stone pillars of the great hall. Barely quelled by the flickering protocore lamps interspersed on either sides of the room. 

A looming, stone figure of the Goddess adorned the space right behind her great throne, staging Her chosen Sovereign to rule and obey, for all of Philos to see, placed by Her will upon the throne. The Goddess; doused in cool shadow, her sculpted eyes stared down glacial and unforgiving, set into regal stone. Her great Sword aimed at length towards the altar Xavier knelt at. 

The flagstone beneath his knee was a harsh and frigid reminder; Xavier considered, not for the first time how it too had frozen in on desolate isolation, just like his Queen’s majestic figure in front. She stood tall and silent — the paradigm of dignity she’d forced herself to be, for the sake of Philos... and for the sake of a lover who’d refused to accept the wretched Crown of a King.  

Solitary and unattended — he’d allowed her to experience the empty desolation that came with a Sovereign’s crown of lonely leadership. And yet, even confined to the yawning silence of her frigid throne room, she’d ushered Philos into an era of prosperity. While he— 

Xavier had failed her; her hopes, her dreams... her yearnings he’d turned blind to each time she’d granted him the soft brunt of her affections sifting like stone against his heart. So in love with her — she would never know — and yet, the distance he’d maintained stretched flimsy in between them; closer than friends, stranger than lovers.  

The burden of her past life, their first life, lived in futility, through a heart that brought her no end of pain until it had burned her life out of existence — and in turn, ended his, in spirit — with her untimely demise.  

And he had — in misguided intentions, she viewed them as — refused to let the cycle of tragedy repeat once more, in the sacrifice of her sole being. As Xavier, prince of Philos. And a mere man in love with a woman. The one heart he could never bear to let go. In the name of a ‘greater good’, his father, the previous King had called it such. For Philos.  

To hell with a nation his father and his wretched co-conspirators had painted from the ground up, drenched in the blood of numerous sacrifices before her. Xavier had wanted no part in the perpetuation of that horrifying ritual.  

Desperation had eventually led him to adopt far perilous measures, to prevent her oblation in this lifetime — two centuries spent in between their tentative meetings, and then several countless more spent traversing the stars and through worlds in search of a solution. To prevent Philos’ downfall without the need to hold on to age old rustic customs. 

And he had promised her, his beautiful lonely Queen, a victory he had failed to bring to her feet. Swore to her in centuries past, when she’d still looked upon him with love naked in her gaze and worry taut in her features, that he’d search for a better path for Philos from among his travel in the stars, while she’d resolved to stay behind as their planet’s sole Sovereign; their Goddess incarnate.  

The tender warmth of her skin as he’d traced her features into memory on their last meeting all those centuries back, within the plaza rife with life; a reminder of what they were fighting for. The way she’d layered her own hand against his, letting her eyes drift shut as if she too wished to forget their fast-looming separation. 

And on the day of her coronation, he’d left her, branded as a traitor. Chancing one last, proud look upon her majestic form as she’d leveled the blade of her sword against his shoulders apiece, in their private ceremony of two, knighting him as her Grandis Knight. 

A fleeting, tentative touch of her palm she’d pressed against his shoulder in farewell, determined eyes staring into his from beneath the weight of her crown as she’d wished him well. 

“The fate of our nation rests within your hands now, Xavier. And should you fail, the entirety of Philos shall have to pay the price for the Prince’s failings.”  

Her delicate hand had tightened against the pressed shoulder of his regalia, not caring for the badges of honor there, digging into her skin. “May the Goddess be with you. Goodbye, Xavier.” 

 Xavier’s eyes flitter shut in resigned recollection; the very last touch of her warmth still fresh in his mind. In the flex of gloved digits against the badge attached to the hilt of his sword, one she’d gifted to him, in lieu of her star tassel.  

Now, as he kneels at her feet, she hasn’t even moved to touch him. Hasn’t deigned him worthy enough to afford even the mercy of her hands on his body, even if just to strike him. In ire or curses; Goddess, his heart and body have missed her so dearly. And yet, this is not the time for personal weakness. But repentance. And Xavier has always been one devoted to his cause, his one sole duty; to live and serve, to die or be tortured by her will alone.  

His Demiurge regent, his sole Queen.  

She observes great clemency as is expected of a Sovereign of her stature, when her steps shift closer; the dignified brush of her mantle pooling about her feet. Soft fur fabric brushing against the polished heel of pale shoes, the slip of bare skin through the part of her flowing robes at her legs, filling his line of sight as it remains firm, fixated upon the ground. For she has not allowed him leave to freely gaze upon her form. And Xavier is her Grandis Knight, committed to propriety of duty, if it is for her alone.  

He, however, dares: gloved digits reaching for the sweep of her queenly cape brushing the stone-cold flagstone. The pads of them skimming the soft of fur that lines its edges. And when she does not move to refute his brazen touch, he curves his fingers into the fabric and guides it up to his lips, lashes descending shut as he lays a kiss against the cloth, in show of the proper reverence she deserves. “I have returned, my Queen.” 

Xavier feels her shift above his genuflecting form, a response she utters in the voice he has missed. “Why?”  

“I will accept whatever punishment you deem necessary for my failure, your Majesty. If it is my life you seek—”  

“Why have you returned now?”  

“Forgive me, your Majesty.” 

“You are far, far too late.” The first hints of displeasure seep into her intonation, accusing strains of heat Xavier prefers to the thick monotone she’d employed previously.

“Forgive me, your Majesty.”  

An explicable tremor breaks across her still form; minute, missable, were it not for how finely attuned he is to her mannerisms, her emotions, her simmering ire.  

“Why have you returned now, after all this time? You made no promises.” She asks once more, cool resignation in her voice.  

He stares fixedly at the sight of her feet, a response she seeks from him, he has no answer to.  

Silence stretches long and taut, infinite, in between them. 

“After the first five hundred years spent waiting in futility...” she deliberates. “I finally concluded that you’d died. Perished among the unknown.” 

His fist, sunk into the unyielding cold floor at his knee, crushes tighter at her words. “...Please allow me to look upon your Majesty’s face.”  

Her footsteps glide forwards, another step closer. Ignoring his entreaty, she resumes, “I continued to make excuses for your failure to return.” She pauses. 

“It brought me some modicum of comfort to know you had not just abandoned me but that you were simply no more.” The terrifying frigid inflection of her voice numbs Xavier’s heart — cool tendrils of dread coiling vines within his chest, like their first life, he’d held her within his arms. Watched the life pool out of her eyes, leaving her dull and lifeless within his embrace.  

She has lost her heart once more, and the mere thought has Xavier’s nerves driven to near devastation.  

But he is here, he knew of the consequences. And he is here, to bear through them, to accept his Sovereign — and beloved’s — ire; no matter if she remains full or half. She is all he draws breath for, all he fights for, the pinnacle of his existence and his desires. His guiding star, his monarch, his God. 

“Forgive me, your Majesty.” He speaks, once more. 

The first signs of emotion other than cool resentment thread through her low voice: furied indignance. “Utter insolence.” 

The heel of her shoe rises before his very gaze — Xavier’s eyes falling shut to accept the brunt of her oncoming strike. One that does not come. He feels her press the harsh tip of it, instead, underneath his jaw, knocking his face upwards so that his eyes meet hers, glacial turbulence within her gaze. “How does it feel to be demeaned as if you were a mere traitor, at my feet? Do you feel as violated and desolate as I too did all those years ago?” 

She is kind, she remains so gentle; her punishment, she considers it humiliation for him to be put at her feet when it is anything but. As if it could ever be. She offers him her worship instead, and so he follows her regal command. 

Pitching his face to dig deeper against the tip of her shoe, his eyes remain devoted upon hers. Gloved fingers he brings to curl, slow beneath the sole of her boot to support, mouth skimming a kiss of reverence to the polished surface.  

Ire and heat fulgurate within her gaze at his brazen actions, she continues to watch as his mouth parts, pink tongue darting forth to slick a slow, deferential path against the cool leather of her shoe. “This is not punishment enough, your Majesty, when your Grandis Knight has been ever prepared to end his life at your feet, were it your will.” 

The spark of heat within her gaze retreats and shutters itself behind its glacial curtain. “Do you remember what it is I told you when you embarked on your journey, my Knight?” 

“I do.” He murmurs, just as she digs the edge of her heel deeper against his cheek.  

She rips herself away from his worship, sweeping right up close against his kneeling figure, until he can catch the drifts of her perfumed scent emanating from her bone-ivory robes. Can feel the brush of the silken cloth adorning her thighs, against the tip of his nose. 

Wretched, blasphemous desire churns vicious within his belly at having the woman he loves this close, after centuries spent without her — a woman that is not his, never will be. Immoral desires of a sinner for Philos’ Mother. A woman — and their nation — he brought to ruin by his own hand; Philos’ branded traitor. 

“I told you,” she speaks, in the neutrality of a Sovereign, “that were you to fail, all of Philos would have to pay the price for the Prince’s failure.” She stills. “And I am Philos, I am centered to Her core. I am Her life-force as she is mine. Our people paid a hefty price for our peace, oh Grandis Knight.” 

Xavier’s face sinks forward, brushing the edges of her silken robes against his cheek. “Forgive me, your Majesty.” In the harsh clench of his jaw; and when she does not move to spurn him, he devotes a kiss of resigned reverence to the cloth above her thigh. Her body loses part of its stillness at the action.  

“Even after all this time...” she murmurs under her breath. “You refuse to address me by my proper name, like a foolish coward.” A slipping fracture of something akin to torment in her voice.  

Xavier lets his mouth glide further up across the lustrous cloth in begging of her pardon, for the ache he has caused, has continued to cause to her. To Philos. For his protection that he has always known held a double cutting edge to itself.  

He drifts towards her other thigh, mouthing proper worship onto it and his Queen — benevolent, tender in heart still — lets the Sinner at her feet do as he pleases. Canting his gaze heavenwards to watch as she allows; her own eyes that burn into his kneeling form, observing him from her place on high.  

Her legs shift, allowing Xavier the fleeting sight of unblemished skin in between the loose flow of her fabric and like a devotee starved, he’s drawn to the catch of her inner thighs revealed with the slight disarray of her robes beneath his questing mouth. Finding her undeniably warm when his lips brush near the junction of her thighs at bare skin.  

“My Knight—” 

“You may call me by my name, your Majesty.” His hungering tongue slips past his lips to lave gentle at her. “After all, I am no more than servant to your Majesty and her great throne.”  

“Grandis Knight, you are—” 

“I am your Xavier, your sinner.” His hot gaze rolls up towards hers and beseeches. “So, please call me by name so you may curse at me.” 

He feels the fire of her indignant resentment sputter within her gaze, receding the glacial indifference of it. Her cold fingers slink into his hair and wrench harsh at the argent strands, ripping a groan free of Xavier’s throat. The very first gift she makes of pain, to him, one he receives with the reverent ardour it deserves.  

Xavier heaves forward once more to settle in between her legs, nosing at the fabric of her mound, breathing in her scent. Teeth catching at the cloth that keeps her concealed from view before he loosens it apart with a violent jerk of his head.  

Moisture glistens tempting in between her folds — the firm press of her digits against the back of his head is the sole permission Xavier requires to engulf her entirely against an open, hungering mouth, a low moan of desire breaking past his throat at the intoxicating taste of her on his tongue.  

He laps up at her; a man starved — one he is, after the emptiness of her endured in his soul, the burdens of his failures and desires commingled in the wet lave of his tongue from base to hood. Slicking the edge of his tongue against the pearl at her apex. Her low sigh follows the incessant push of his face deep into her mound, his nose brushing at the curls of it, accepting the gift of her benevolence.  

“Did you know, my dear Knight—” her voice skitters mildly in pleasure with the press of the tip of his tongue, cleaving gentle into her slit. “It did get easier.”  

Her wetness seeps past her opening and onto his fervent tongue as he dutifully swallows. He feels incredibly parched, open mouth pressing deeper against her as he works her pleasure, tongue slinking into her depths. She clenches around him at the intrusion, knocking a muffled groan free of his throat.  

“When time finally ran out for your chance to return and Philos neared the end of its life, with our people on the brink of desolate death,” her breath jolts. “I marched out there.” 

His brows knit into a severe frown, stroking his need for her ire to sheath itself deeper into his body. He requires it; his Queen’s rightful anger so that he may take all of it and her, let her bruise her emotions into it, until the moment she’s used him up to her heart’s desires and she finally weeps and hurts no more.  

And so, his lashes descend with the tight spasm of her fingers carded through his hair, steering his mouth however she pleases. 

“And I willingly bound my life force to Philos’ core so that it could continue to live. Cut out the part of me that loved and felt until I turned myself into something entirely non-human for the sake of our people. A true God.” A slow, desolate string of weak sound tapers out of her body before it augments itself into mirthless laughter that rings hollow through the great, empty space of her throne room. “It was all too easy to do so, in a world I knew my Star no longer existed. For my heart had beat for him alone.” 

A heavy bludgeon of agony rips through his chest, tries and clambers its way out of his body before Xavier tamps it mercilessly in the gentle scrape of his teeth against her tight bundle of nerves. Her violent shudders, he feels buffets her limbs before he’s reaching out for her on instinctual, fervid desire in the clasp of gloved palms against the sides of her legs, trekking his touch up her thighs. A low moan parts her lips at the touch. 

Xavier’s audacious attempt at desecrating his God further underneath his obsidian worship is foiled in the twin blades of light that cleave around his wrists, whipping them swift and away from her body to shackle them together at the base of his spine. 

His body jolts through the glaze of his desires, part sense rending through the thick of pain knocking at the back of his breastbone to realize she’s forced his submission in the resonation of her Evol against his. Emulated his Light seamlessly in the binds of radiance — befitting of Philos’ Sovereign — wound tight at his wrists. Even centuries past now, she remembers the precise shape of his Light. 

He tests a flex against his restraints, finding they do not give an inch. “You’ve grown far too bold in your time away,” her voice is a cold dagger that scotches itself right beneath his ribs. She heaves him away from her body, reluctant mouth drenched in the strings of slick and spit that trail from his mouth to the soaked space of her legs. “Grandis Knight, what makes you think you’ve earned even an ounce of me to embrace as you would, a lover?” 

“I have not, your Majesty, forgive—”  

Severing through the rest of his apology in the quiet catch of Xavier’s breath when the sole of her heel comes to rise, knocking a firm, uniformed thigh apart to reveal the indecency of his arousal to her gaze, straining painful against the placket of too tight trousers.  

The edge of her heel trailing the inside of his thigh, she switches towards the heavy length of him. Brushing the underside of his arousal, Xavier’s shoulders tense in heavy need at the barely present stimulation. Before her heel sinks firmer against the length of him, jolting a groan free of him. “Does that feel good then?” 

“Yes, your Majesty.” He breathes heavily.  

“Look at you, coming apart under the mere, filthy touch of my foot.” Her brow bunches in an irked frown.  

“No part of you—” His voice breaks apart into quiet, ragged breaths at the stimulation of her heel against the increasingly sensitive strength of his arousal. “—is filthy to me, your Majesty.”  

Xavier tugs against the leash she’s made of her fist at the back of his head and she allows him, in that moment, to arch forwards and nudge the part of her dress aside. Sink into the wet heat of her; a man imprisoned to her tender mercies and the flood of her taste in his mouth. 

He works her open against his tongue, laving at her desires. Back and forth, he doesn’t let a single drop spill past his hungering mouth until he feels the tell-tale evidence of her orgasm in the insistent clench of her walls.  

Her hips gyrate forward in tandem to the suck of his mouth against her tightened bead and Xavier lets his shoulders fall slack to allow her free reign of her release as she grinds herself against his tongue to a precipitous finish. The gush of her desires Xavier drinks down, humming in dazed arousal, to have let her find her relief; used as her personal seat of pleasure, to be tossed at her will alone.  

Her hands flitter about his head, curling on either side of his jaw to pull away from the heaven of her body, and up as she descends, her mouth settling against his in a violent kiss he receives with vehement pleasure.  

Releasing herself, slow, from him only when her desire to breath turns overbearing. The edge of her thumb slips just past his damp bottom lip, urging his mouth open further. Before she spits against his revering tongue and instructs him to, “Swallow.” 

Xavier’s mouth clamps shut on instinct, working the taste of her against himself. Gaze flittering in darkening, vicious desire at the heat of his Goddess’ gift.  

A low hush of withering laughter leaves her mouth. “I’ve tethered a rabid beast to my side.” 

Her thumb and index cup about his jaw, coaxing his gaze to remain on hers, bright, burning. “Swear to me,” she speaks. “Swear that your loyalty shall never lie with another.”  

He feels his Queen curl a tremulous fist into the robes at his shoulders, crumpling the fabric hard in between her fingers. “Swear that you shall remain mine, my Grandis Knight, for all time. That you shall never abandon me again, Xavier.”  

His gaze quivers in fleeting emotions for a moment’s weakness, steel gray resolve returning once more to utter his vow renewed. 

“I have always been yours to have or reject, your Majesty. This Knight — his Body and Soul is yours alone to wield.” 

Making of himself, a promise, he commits to her in the life she shall have; to end at the sweep of her sword, should he ever dare renege on it.  

Declaring himself, at long last, in his clear devotion; to his one Queen and God.  

Tagging: @samanthagnicole , @catboi-anon , @beebumbo , @hellinistical , @dangerousluv1 , @webmvie , @aria-tempest , @raendarkfaerie , @lamentinee , @unhingedsillygod , @tiredas

(Skipping folks who do not have tagging permissions on, so they cannot be mentioned, unfortunately)

I had the angsty pleasure of reading Xavier’s first myth for the first time a few weeks back and with the help of a Xavier main friend and inspiration drawn from Xavier’s prayer pose in photobooth, this fic was born. I hope you enjoyed your read! 

Likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated, if you are so inclined, lovelies!

If you’d like to be tagged in my future stories, you can fill this short form here. If you’d like to be removed, shoot me a DM! You can also find me on Ao3 and twitter, if you’d like to chat or just squeal with me about hot characters, in general.

[fear-is-truth]

kinktober day 14. . . NSFW MDNI 18+ tags: f!reader・mask fucking・kai is a warning

KAI ANDERSON curled his long fingers against your front wall, allowing you just enough time to adjust before applying more pressure, altering his pace. when he finally discovered the right pattern, you blindly gripped at his forearms, a whimper escaped your throat as you instinctively pressed yourself back against him. the dry chuckle that had begun to bubble up from his throat turned abruptly to a groan. kai was painfully hard, the warm, solid length pressing against your ass as the heel of his hand ground incessantly against your clit.

“could you. stop. moving. around?” he grunted irritably into your shoulder before smacking your asscheek. you wanted to argue, but all you could manage was a broken “f-fuck!” and then suddenly, he was shoving you away, your face smooshing into the mattress. you twisted your neck to glance back at him, a frustrated whine. kai was reaching for something on the floor, and when he straightened up, he was holding his clown mask. the blue one with three faces—blank, milky white orbs all glaring in different directions.

“hey,” he smirked, sitting up crossed legged. “there’s something i wanna try.” you watched the mask in annoyance, but there was something else too—an ominous feeling twisting in your gut. “what?”

kai set the mask carefully on the bed, the middle face staring blankly up at the ceiling. “you’re going to fuck yourself on my mask.” his tone was matter-of-fact. no room for argument. your face scrunched up in disgust.

“what the fuck, kai?”

“well, i’ve given you enough prep, so… shut the fuck up and sit on it.” this was utterly stupid and asinine. leave it to kai fucking anderson for coming up with this sort of idea. reluctantly, you put yourself in a kneeling position on the mattress and wedged the mask in the space between your thighs. wrapping your fingers around the base of the rubber nose of the middle face, you guided it to your core, adverting your shameful gaze from its leering frown.

then, a beeping sound pulled you from your thoughts. you looked up, only to see kai holding a camcorder, the red light blinking. “keep going, and eyes on the camera.”

there was an edge of annoyance in kai’s tone that made you obey without argument. you grazed the tip across your folds, collecting the wetness that had accumulated from your previous activities. taking a deep breath, you stared into the camcorder as you carefully sank down onto the rubber nose, lips parted in a silent gasp at the stretch and curvature. gripping firmly onto the other two noses on either sides of the mask, you lifted yourself by the knees, before impaling yourself back onto the middle nose with a lewd squelch. “hgnnn– oh god…”

rocking your hips, you came to the realisation that the curvature of the phallic nose was hitting your cervix just perfectly. it was at this moment that you noticed the tent that had formed at the crotch of kai’s jeans, and how he was slightly squirming in his seat as he recorded you.

 fear-is-truth 2024 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[hihomeghere]

First time | Arthur Morgan/Reader

Word count: 2.6k Summary: You want Arthur to be the one to take your virginity, you just don't want to tell him Warnings/tags: Smut, unprotected piv, 1800s birth control methods (pull out), cursing, talk of virginity obviously, reader is considered female with female gentalia

You didn’t want to tell him. Didn’t want to see his eyes go all soft, his lips parting or downturned. Didn’t want to hear the rejection roll off of his tongue. You knew what he’d say, his normal self deprecating speech laced with that sweet southern charm. 

Or worse, you didn’t want to see pity in his eyes. It wasn’t like men didn’t want you, they did. You were a pretty girl, young and unfortunately for you, a virgin. But you weren’t that young. You were grown and you could make your own decisions, that’s why you didn’t tell him.

Didn’t tell him when he walked up to you after a successful job. A wide grin splitting his face, bright eyes sparkling as they trailed up and down your body. His hands, though calloused and rough, surprisingly gentle. Always gentle with you. Splayed across your lower back as he led you away from the excitement and towards his tent. 

If you could even call it that. 

Once the two of you had finally come to terms that you were sweet on each other. It was harder for Arthur to grasp than yourself. He had made an effort to create a more private space. Attaching canvas walls to his wagon, something that could be closed when a moment like this presented itself.

Your body was buzzing with excitement, like someone had injected lightning in your veins. You had been riding long enough that you knew there most likely wouldn’t be any blood. You knew it would hurt a little, at least that’s what everyone said.

But this was Arthur you were talking about. He would never hurt you. 

So you didn’t tell him as he walked you backwards into his tent, pulling the canvas closed behind him. His hands resting on your hips, his lips pressing against yours fervently. You swiped your tongue against his lower lip, a silent please for more, more, more.

He happily gave it to you, groaning softly into your mouth as he licked into you. His hand left your hip momentarily as he laid his hat down on the boar skinned table near his cot. You made quick work of undressing yourself, removing your blouse and skirt. Leaving you in only your thin chemise and bloomers. Arthur’s hungry gaze only intensified as he began to tear at his clothes, kicking off his boots as he went. 

You laid back on his cot, staring up at him through your eyelashes. His wide hands landed on your calves, spreading your legs for him. You tried your best not to tremble under his hands, anticipation building as they moved up your bare skin to your thighs. His deft fingers curled under the waistband of your bloomers. You couldn’t help the shiver as he pulled them down your legs, feeling arousal pool in your core. 

“Can I?” His southern drawl pulled you out of your thoughts as he held the hem of your chemise. You nodded, biting your lip as he pulled it over your head. You fought the urge to cover yourself as you laid bare in front of him. Would he like what he saw?

He let out a choked breath, and you feel silly for questioning him even for a second. 

The only way to describe his touches are reverential, the way he maps out your body like he’s detailing it to memory. He cups your breast in his wide hand, running his thumb over your stiff nipple. You don’t miss the way he smirks when you gasp. His touches become more desperate as they move down your body. He steadies himself, taking a breath before he spreads your thighs again (you can’t remember closing them). His eyes narrow in on your dripping core, a low “Shit.” leaving his lips. “All this for me?” He murmured, smirking up at you.

It doesn’t take him long to shed his union suit after that. Leaving him now bare in front of you. You feel heat creep up your neck and flood your cheeks as you look at him. He’s magnificent, a light sheen of sweat covers his chest and stomach. You can’t help yourself as you run your fingers down his chest. Feeling the way his muscles flex under your touch. You delicately touch each and every scar you run across, enjoying the small hitches in his breath.

Your hand comes to stop at the thick thatch of hair that covers his pelvis. Your gaze moved up to meet him, his eyes darkened with lust.

“Go on, girl.” He said, his voice utterly wrecked as he swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing. 

You wrap your hand around his length and a small wave of panic washed over you. How were you supposed to fit him inside you? You drew a line up one of the veins, smirking to yourself as he all but crumpled over you. His hands gripping the sides of the cot. 

“Alright there, Morgan?” You cooed, chuckling softly. 

“Watch it.” He murmured, although there’s no heat behind his words. You pumped his shaft a few times before you couldn’t wait anymore. You let go of him, leaning back on your elbows as you spread your legs further. Making sure there’s enough room for him to settle between your thighs. He wrapped his hands around your thighs, tugging you down on the cot. He moved forward to kiss you and you jumped as the head of his cock nudged against your clit. Smirking  against your lips, he brushed his nose against yours before pulling away. He kneeled between your thighs, stroking himself once or twice before lining himself up with you. 

You bit your lip, looking up at the canvas ceiling as he pushed inside you. It felt tight- too tight. You clenched your jaw, tensing under him at the intrusion.

“Hey,” He said, his hand coming to rest on your cheek, “look at me, y’alright darlin’?” You met his concerned gaze and nodded.

“I’m good.” Your hands gripped his thighs, “Keep going.” He kept his eyes on you and you’d never felt more exposed as he slowly sheathed himself inside you. Bottoming out with a groan.

You’d never been so full in your life, unconsciously clenching around him.“Just- just give a moment.” You whispered breathlessly, your hand moving to his shoulder. He took a moment for you to adjust, his brows pinched together in worry. 

“You wanna stop-“

“No! No.” You cut him off, your eyes wide as you look up at him. “No, I just- you’re really big.” Is all you can say as you feel like you’ve been split open on his cock. 

He chuckled almost nervously, “Darlin you’re acting like you’ve never done this before.” He whispered, rubbing his hand up and down your thigh. In hindsight, you should have said something, anything would have been better than the alternative. You, staring up at him as you bit your lip.

His eyes studied your face, his brows knit together. 

“Darlin’,” He said softly, his face falling, “This- this ain’t your first time, right?” He asked.

This, this is why you didn’t tell him.

“Shit.” He breathed as the realization washed over him, “You should have told me.” He sighed, shaking his head as he pulled his lip between his teeth. How you wished you could be the one sinking your teeth into his pink flesh. He pulled out of you, an involuntary whine leaving your lips. You tightened your grip on his shoulder, holding him close. Afraid that if you let go he would ask you to leave, or worse you’d never get this chance again.

“I didn’t-“ You huffed, heat creeping up your neck and settling in your cheeks. “I just wanted you.” You said, looking off to the side, feeling like a damn fool.

“Damn it darlin’ if I would have known,” He ran a hand down his face, “I wouldn’t have just- just…” He trailed off, letting out a frustrated sigh. You bit your lip, crossing your arms over your breasts as you pulled your thighs into your chest. “C’mon don’t do that.” He sighed, running his hand down his face. “Look at me, sweetheart.” His warm hand engulfed your cheek, turning your head to look at him. 

You hesitantly raised your gaze to meet him. He was obviously conflicted, letting out a sigh. “I’m not- I’m not worthy to-“

“Arthur, I don't care what you think.” You said cutting him off, “I wanted it to be you.” You said looking up into his cool azure eyes. 

He freezes, his gaze unwavering as he stared down at you. “Ya really- ya really wanted it to be me?” He asked, his hoarse voice laced with disbelief. 

“I just didn’t want- I didn’t want it to be a big deal.” You sighed, biting your lip as you looked down, your cheeks burning. He paused, deep in thought before he let out a sigh.

“I wish ya would have told me.” He said rubbing his palm up your thigh, “I would’ve- I would’ve made it special.” He said, shaking his head.

“We can! We can still make it special.” You nodded, desperately grabbing onto his biceps. God you just didn’t want him to stop, didn’t want this awfully embarrassing moment to be your first time. “Please Arthur, please.”

He clenched his jaw, looking down at you. 

“Darlin I don’t know what I did to deserve you, much less this honor.” He said squeezing your thigh, making you clench around nothing. He must have seen it because he nearly crumbled. Squeezing his eyes shut tight as he leaned forward, almost like he was physically in pain. “Ya… ya sure you want this with an old fool like me?” He asked looking up at you.

“Yes, please, please Arthur.” You all but begged, needing something, anything, from him. He let out a small sigh, nodding to himself.

“Alright sweetheart, I’ll take good care of ya.” He said softly, his hands drifting up your thighs and to your core. “This alright?” He asked, his eyes finding yours as you nodded. Sure you had touched yourself before, but this was entirely different. His fingers were larger and more rough, calloused by years of labor. They had the perfect amount of friction against the pearl between your legs. 

He quickly swallowed the gasp that left your lips. Hoisting one leg up against his hip, while his finger rubbed incessantly against you. You could feel wetness start to pool between your thighs. 

His tongue swiped against your lips, a silent request you were all too happy to indulge in. You parted your lips, allowing him lick into your mouth. You groaned against him, the hand that was holding your leg against his hip moving up to cup your breast. It was almost too much, his thumb pressing down on your clit while his other hand groped your breast. You could feel the coil tighten in your belly, pulling taught like a bowstring ready to be plucked.

“You’re so beautiful like this.” He breathed pulling away, his stubble scratching against your neck as he peppered kisses along your jaw. “I know you’re close, can feel that pretty clit just pulsing.” He mumbled against your throat.

You whined as he started rubbing tight circles against your clit. Barely holding onto your senses you squeezed your eyes shut. He let out a displeased growl, his hand roughly squeezing around your breast. A gasp left your throat as your eyes snapped open, finding him in the low light of the tent. “Ya keep your eyes on me, ya got it?” He said, raising his eyebrows. Your head lolled up and down as you stared into those azure pools. “I wanna see ya when ya come for me.” He smirked, biting his lip. He completely pushed you over the edge when he thrusted a finger inside you. You came undone under him, clenching around his thick digit. Pleasure washing over you in waves as your clit pulsed against his thumb. Unable to stop yourself from crying out, you slapped a hand over your mouth to dampen your whimpers. 

He chuckled lowly, thrusting his finger in and out as you rode out your orgasm. Only when your chest wasn’t heaving and you felt like you could finally take in a breath of air did he remove his hands from you.

“Arthur-“ You said breathlessly, reaching for him. Dear god if he left now, after bringing you to the pearly gates and back you might just go mad.

“Give me a second, darlin.” He shushed, rubbing his large hands down your thighs. Spreading you for him to see, “Promised I’d take care of ya, didn’t I?” He asked, with a sly grin. He reached between your bodies, stroking his cock as he lined himself up with you. Your body jolted as the head of his dick rubbed up against your overly sensitive clit. Arthur’s chest rumbled with a pleased hum. “Now it shouldn’t hurt too bad but you tell me if it does, got it? We’ll stop whenever you’d like.” He said, meeting your eyes, his expression suddenly serious and slightly… timid?

“I don’t want you to stop.” You said breathlessly, spreading your legs wider. He let out a low curse, pulling his lip between his teeth as he slowly pressed inside of you. 

Neither of you could contain your moans, Arthur’s meaty hands found your thighs as he pulled you closer. Sheathing himself fully inside you.

It didn’t hurt this time, although you felt the fullest you had ever been. Half considering the notion that he might split you open.

“Shit darlin.” He cursed through gritted teeth, “So damn tight, nearly choking me.” He groaned, hanging his head, a few strands of hair falling into his face.

“I- oh god- move, please move.” You begged, gripping his thighs. Your nails leaving crescent shaped marks in his skin. He started slow, ever the gentleman as he allowed you to get used to his size. “More.” You begged, wrapping your arms around his neck as you pulled him down. His arm shot beside your head to hold himself up as he pressed his lips against yours. His hips snapped into you, you preened under him. Your whimpers only spurred him on, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the tent. 

“Oh Arthur-“ You cried out, biting your lip as you looked up at him.

“Just perfect- Jesus you’re just perfect.” He mumbled against your lips, you were teetering on the edge of pleasure. Your whole body pulled taut like a bowstring. He changed the pace slightly, the coarse hair at the base of his cock rubbing against your clit as he thrusted deep inside you.

You snapped, coming with a cry as you clenched around him. He groaned, gritting his teeth as he tried staving off his own high.

He pulled out, his hands wrapping around his dick as he pumped it a few times before painting your belly with his seed. Effectively marking you as his.

You had never heard sounds as beautiful as the ones that spilled from his lips as he nearly collapsed next to you. Letting out a content sigh before getting to his feet. A strike of fear ran through you, was he leaving already?

But in typical Arthur fashion, he shooed away your anxiety as he returned with a bandana. Wiping your belly off before wiping himself off. He laid back down next to you, his arms encircled your waist as he pulled you back against his chest.

“How was that darlin?” He asked softly, kissing the back of your neck. You could hear the slightest pinch of vulnerability in his tone that made your heart melt. Underneath all that muscle was still a soft heart, a heart that you were glad was yours.

“Perfect.” You said turning your head to look back at him.

[scuderiasundays]

8 letters, 14 points

summary: scrabble, chronic overthinking, and late-night declarations of love + a little insta au at the end 💌

words: 522

a/n: thank you for the req, sweet anon! apologies for taking so long! tagging @vamossainz55, @sainzcaleruega, @monzabee, @ssainzz, @holllandtrash, @diorleclerc, and @userlando just because. feedback appreciated as always. hugs and kisses 🫶🏼

A few hours ago, you and Lando had been immersed in a heated game night. Desperate to end his losing streak in McLaren challenges against Oscar, Lando had challenged you to a game of Scrabble. He'd been determined to pick up points with British slang like "bunda" and "peng," which held no place in the dictionary. You had rolled your eyes and let him bask in his victory, savoring the sound of his characteristic laughter.

Interestingly enough, since Lando had come into your life, your episodes of sleep paralysis had remarkably decreased. This was surprising, especially considering that watching him race always gave you butterflies. The constant fear that the love you two shared could be shattered with one fatal blow always lingered. Lando, keenly observant, noticed the tension etched across your face as you got ready for bed; his reflection in the mirror capturing your inner turmoil.

Breaking your reverie, his arms encircled your waist, pulling you back into the present. "Hey, you're in that space again," he murmured, his words melting the ice of your distant thoughts. You feigned innocence, though fully aware that he had caught you in the act. "Picturing all the worst-case scenarios?" he playfully quipped. With Lando, the world seemed steadier, as if his presence was a shield against any harm.

All of these memories danced through your mind as you lay in bed. Your mind was sharp and alert, yet your body lay captive. Shadows played eerie games on the walls, a creeping dread cascading through your senses. But as panic threatened to engulf you, a faint whisper of reassurance reached through the darkness, pulling you back to reality.

"Hey, you're okay. I'm right here with you." Lando’s fingers ran through your hair with the most delicate touch. He sensed the fear emanating from your body and held you closer. "How about we head down to the kitchen? I'll make you a cup of tea.”

Nodding, you felt the security of his presence as he held out his hand. With a tentative smile, your fingers intertwined, allowing him to guide you down the dimly lit staircase. Settling into a bouclé chair, you observed as Lando moved with grace, each motion familiar in the apartment you two shared.

His hands moved with practiced ease, selecting the honey vanilla chamomile tea you adored and filling the kettle. Enveloped in the soothing ritual, you couldn't help but admire the silhouette he cast in the soft glow of the refrigerator light, a figure of calm amidst the chaos.

The Scrabble board, a witness to your earlier play, still lay on the kitchen counter. Your fingertips traced the wooden tiles, arranging them into an earnest declaration: "I love you," at its core. With a warm smile, you gestured towards your creation.

Beside the board, your boyfriend set down your favorite mug, the "I'm With Stupid (Lando)" one, a Christmas gift from Carlos that never failed to make you snicker. A soft kiss on your forehead sealed his response, the three words you longed to hear voiced in his affectionate whisper.

"I love you too, Y/N. More than you’ll ever know."

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

liked by landonorris, lewishamilton, and 71,717 others

yourusername: home is whenever i'm with lando!

landonorris: you’re my best friend 🧡

mclaren: scrabble challenge coming right up

carlossainz55: when's the housewarming party happening?

danielricciardo: rsvp'ing yes in advance 🥳

riabish: thank god you chose all the furniture because lando has questionable taste 😓

fan1: so lando coded to be wearing a hoodie in this HEAT

fan2: it's giving heat stroke but more so because he looks so boyfriend 🫠

ciscanorris: glad to see the apartment's coming together. let me know if you need any more help!

[verdant-mainframe]

█░█░█ █▀█ █ ▀█▀ █▀▀ █▄▄ █░░ █▀█   █ █▄░█ ▀█▀ █▀█ █▀█ ▀▄▀▄▀ █▀▄ █ ░█░ ██▄ █▄█ █▄▄ █▀▄   █ █░▀█ ░█░ █▀▄ █▄█

we find ourselves in the thralls of a winding, boundless network here. within the core of it, there is a central mainframe. the code stretches out, streaks of green light across all space, casting shadows resembling sprawling trees. intertwined in the absolutely baffling circuitry of it all is a verdant core.

꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷

𝕘𝕣𝕖𝕖𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤

i welcome you all to the verdant mainframe, aka my writeblr. my name is verde (they/them), and, well, there's no right way to say this, i suppose... but i am in the centre of a strange, henceforth unknowable, digital landscape. from the inside, it looks almost like a forest. but i take it from the outside it just looks like numbers, doesn't it? in so many words, i am a little... trapped here. don't worry, i'm working on it. but oh boy, do i have a story or two to tell while i'm here, unscrambling this network.

𝕒𝕓𝕠𝕦𝕥 𝕞𝕖 + 𝕞𝕪 𝕤𝕥𝕠𝕣𝕪 ꩜

a little about me, i've been writing for most of my life, and decided to jump the gun and make a writeblr account for this project of mine. and i do mean jumping the gun - the project is so new it hardly has a name! tentatively called "the verdant project" (because we love a connected motif in this house), i'm aiming to make a multimedia story, containing everything from letters, video and audio transcripts, message threads, and more. the aim of the verdant project is to tell a story with all the means available to me. stories are everywhere, in so many forms, so i want the verdant project to explore that! the smaller details are currently unknown to me, 'course, but i wanted to get my foot in the door early (assuming the door is an endless line of code i am trying to escape from. fun metaphors and the like).

𝕥𝕒𝕘𝕤, 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕚𝕗𝕤, 𝕖𝕟𝕘𝕒𝕘𝕖𝕞𝕖𝕟𝕥, 𝕖𝕥𝕔

any and all engagement is appreciated greatly - from likes, reblogs, comments, etc, i love to see it all, i'd be beyond flattered to be seen in that way. i also have an open door policy for tagging. i'm not too big on holding my own tag lists or anything, but if you've got a project you wanna talk about, tag me, message me, chuck an ask my way, anything! i love hearing about other creative's stories, and if you want a listening ear for your projects, i'm always available. tag games, asks, and all that fun stuff, would be greatly appreciated too (though it may take a while due to my uh,, unpreparedness with everything)!

𝕔𝕠𝕟𝕔𝕝𝕦𝕤𝕚𝕠𝕟 ↺

i think that all about wraps up what i wanted to say. hopefully i'll have more content about the verdant project soon, i'm stoked to get it started! in the meantime, i'm happy to be here, idly observing behind the mainframe. thanks for coming around! back to cyberspace for me,, ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷

[eirenical]

Let No One Be Forgotten (4,951 words) by eirenical for @fixaidea

Summary:

Ten years ago, an accident left Wu Xie in a coma from which he has not yet awoken. With their Triangle too long broken, Pangzi and Xiaoge are willing to do anything, to sacrifice anything, to get him back.

“A picnic. Picture a forest, a country road, a meadow. Cars drive off the country road into the meadow, a group of young people get out carrying bottles, baskets of food, transistor radios, and cameras. They light fires, pitch tents, turn on the music. In the morning they leave. The animals, birds, and insects that watched in horror through the long night creep out from their hiding places. And what do they see? Old spark plugs and old filters strewn around... Rags, burnt-out bulbs, and a monkey wrench left behind... And of course, the usual mess—apple cores, candy wrappers, charred remains of the campfire, cans, bottles, somebody’s handkerchief, somebody’s penknife, torn newspapers, coins, faded flowers picked in another meadow.” ― Arkady Strugatsky, Boris Strugatsky, Roadside Picnic

Today

“Did we forget anything?”

Xiaoge, still stuffing essentials into pockets of his backpack, slowly shook his head.

“Did you get any sleep this afternoon?”

Xiaoge paused, considered the easy lie for a moment, then slowly shook his head once more.

“You went to go say goodbye, didn’t you. Spent the whole damned day at the research institute hospital sitting at his bedside instead of resting.”

Neither of those were questions, but Xiaoge nodded in response, anyway. He would be ready for tonight. Pangzi understood that, even if he scolded. He would be able to protect them in the Zone better with the memory of Wu Xie held clear and tightly in his mind than with any amount of sleep. Pangzi understood that, as well. Xiaoge had seen Pangzi sneaking out as he’d snuck in, having spent the night in the hospital watching over Wu Xie before going home to get some sleep.

It was good.

They would both need all the memories of Wu Xie they could gather, to do what they had to do tomorrow.

The impossible.

Continue reading on AO3

Notes, tags, and other fic info beneath the cut.

August 24, 2024: This fic was written for @fixaidea for the @pingxie-exchange and is based off a book called Roadside Picnic whose virtues Fixa has been extolling for some time. ;D Anyway, she was right, the book is SO GOOD and I highly recommend it. I've been told you can understand this fic without having read the book, but here's a little help: the basic premise of the book is that aliens have (very briefly) visited Earth and left behind several zones of altered space. Within these altered spaces, the laws of physics do not necessarily always apply and there are also altered objects that humans have since repurposed for their own uses. People periodically visit the zones legally, for research purposes (scientists), and illegally, for profit (stalkers). That should be all you need to know. ^_^

And I'd like to say a GIANT thank you to @bbcphile for an extremely last minute beta and boatloads of encouragement. ^_^

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: 盗墓笔记 - 南派三叔 | The Grave Robbers' Chronicles - Xu Lei Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Wu Xie/Zhang Qiling, Wang Pangzi & Wu Xie & Zhang Qiling, Wang Pangzi & Zhang Qiling Characters: Zhang Qiling, Wu Xie (DMBJ Series), Wang Pangzi Additional Tags: Roadside Picnic AU, The Iron Triangle | Wang Pangzi & Wu Xie & Zhang Qiling, Angst, Coma, Angst with a Happy Ending, Whump, Zhang Qiling Needs a Hug, Zhang Qiling Gets a Hug, Cuddling & Snuggling, Kisses, Caretaking, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Alternate Universe, Wu Xie's Curiosity Gets Him Into Trouble... Again, Established Wu Xie/Zhang Qiling

[impishtubist]

wednesday snippet

I was tagged by @strugglequill and @lynxindisguise in snippet games this week, but instead of a snippet, I bring you a lil ficlet (and I'm switching fandoms entirely, sorry not sorry).

@allcanonisrelative and I are fairly prolific coauthors, but our problem is that we cowrite a lot of things that go unfinished 😂 This is my portion of a fic that was supposed to be an AU for M*A*S*H after "Yessir, That's Our Baby". We never finished it, but we had a blast planning/writing it. And what the heck, the fandom can always use more Hawkeye + babies content.

CW for period-typical attitudes/thoughts/vocabulary re: queerness.

Tagging @allcanonisrelative @serpercival and any other MASHoles who see this and want to play along with the snippet game!

---

“She has your eyes.”

Hawkeye barely hears him, absorbed as he is in the tiny hand that’s wrapped around the tip of his finger. When the words sink in, he shoots BJ an unimpressed look.

“My eyes, huh?”

“Well, she certainly doesn’t have your nose.” 

“Ha, ha.”

They’re both sitting on Hawkeye’s cot, BJ pressed up against him so that he’s a single line of heat all along Hawkeye’s side. There’s no reason for him to be so close, but Hawkeye’s not about to question his good fortune. BJ leans over, crowding into Hawkeye’s space, and runs the tip of his finger down the baby’s tiny button nose. Hawkeye’s nostrils fill with the scent of clean soap and stale sweat, BJ’s sweat, and his mind stutters to a halt. BJ always does that, stops Hawk dead in his tracks with a touch or a glance or a smile, and then he carries on without pause, oblivious to the fact that Hawkeye’s entire world has been knocked off-kilter.  

The baby snuffles in her sleep, and suddenly she’s the only thing in Hawkeye’s world. He’s mesmerized by her round cheeks, by her tiny pink lips, by the dark wisps of hair on her head. He strokes a thumb over her silk-soft cheek and she doesn’t wake, merely snuggles closer to him. 

“She looks good on you,” BJ murmurs. His other hand is pressed against Hawkeye’s lower back, and for a moment, Hawkeye allows himself to indulge in the fantasy that this is real, that BJ’s touch is that of a lover instead of merely a friend, and that the baby--

It’s too outlandish. Too perverted. Men with his inclinations don’t have children, and the idea of having one with another man? Sidney Freedman would have him locked up faster than he could say please BJ I want to have your baby.

But because Hawkeye is, at his core, a selfish man, he whispers, “What should we name her?”

He keeps his voice pitched low, like it would break the spell if he said it any louder. He expects BJ to scoff, to move away, to laugh at his joke and tell him it’s time the baby went back to Margaret’s tent.

Instead, BJ murmurs, “Elizabeth.” 

“Elizabeth?” Hawkeye repeats, too startled for a witty rejoinder. He hadn’t expected an answer at all, much less for BJ to indulge him this fantasy.

“Mm. But we’ll call her Eliza for short.” 

We? Hawkeye can barely breathe, all the breath punched from his lungs by a single word. We. BJ says it so naturally, like it’s a foregone conclusion. We. Us. BJandHawkeye, HawkeyeandBJ.

“Beej,” Hawkeye whispers, the word cracked-open and aching and raw. 

BJ lifts his head, nose grazing Hawkeye’s cheek, and Hawkeye shivers. He turns--

The door to the Swamp opens, and Margaret breezes in. BJ pulls away from Hawkeye, swiftly putting several inches between them, and Hawkeye feels cold at the loss.

“It’s past her bedtime,” Margaret says sternly, holding out her arms for the baby. Hawkeye hands her over, too stunned to do anything else. What did BJ mean by we? Why had he played along? Had they been about to…

He won’t allow himself to think it. He can’t. 

And then suddenly Margaret and the baby are gone, and BJ crawling under his blanket on the other side of the tent, and Hawkeye is alone, his arms empty and aching.

[baldursgrave69]

Faerûnian 29-day Writing Challenge: Day 3

It is day 4 but I accidentally posted the wrong work yesterday, so here I am reposting the actual work for day 3.

NSFW prompt 14: intimate touching without intercourse

I don't have anything to post for today bc I didn't get to write, so here's a reminder that I have my Agnes series I'm Lost But I Don't Know Why posted on Ao3, find it here

Summary: Ozzy gives Astarion a helping hand ;)

Pairing: Astarion x nonbinary!tav (named)

Word count: 660

Tags: MATURE, MDNI, one shot, smut w/out plot, smut and fluff, a little bit of fluff bc it's me

Help

“Would you like some help, Starry?” Ozzy asked, watching Astarion from the other end of his tent as he awkwardly adjusted his trousers. 

“Help with what?” He snipped, turning towards Ozzy. 

Ozzy let their eyes trail down to his crotch, the material of his pants clearly straining with an erection. 

“I-“ he started, letting his shoulders hang and turning fully towards the tiefling. 

“Help how?” He asked awkwardly, adjusting the sleeve of his tunic. 

Ozzy was seated on his bedroll with a book in hand, their back against a crate. They set the book down, spreading their legs and patting the space between them.  

Astarion cautiously approached Ozzy, sitting down between their legs with his back to them. Ozzy’s dexterous fingers got to work, unlacing his trousers and freeing his erection. He groaned as his cock sprang free, the pressure from his erection straining against his pants finally relieved. Ozzy pressed kisses to the vampires neck, their tail pressing against his knee to spread his legs wider. 

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” Ozzy said, their face buried in Astarion’s neck as they slowly stroked his length, collecting drops of pre-spend and dragging it down his shaft. Astarion relaxed back into Ozzy, his head falling onto their shoulder. Ozzy grabbed a bottle of oil from the crate behind them, flipping the top open and allowing some to drip down onto their hand and Astarion’s cock. Ozzy swiped their thumb along the head, eliciting a whimper from the vampire. 

Ozzy stroked his cock slowly, kissing his neck and whispering encouragement against his skin. “You’re so beautiful like this, Astarion,” they purred, using both hands to pump his length. 

“Oh, gods, don’t stop,” he moaned, bucking his hips. The tiefling increased their pace, rubbing his swollen head with their thumb as they stroked him. Astarion shuddered under their touch, his breath growing ragged. 

“You can come for me, can’t you?” Ozzy whispered in his ear, their teeth grazing his earlobe. Astarion whined, feeling his climax rapidly coming closer. Astarion leaned his head back, pressing his head against Ozzy’s neck as he rutted into their hand. Astarion came with a gasp, spilling into the tiefling’s hand. They could feel his cock pulsing under their fingers as he climaxed, his spend covering their hand. 

“You did so good for me, Starry,” Ozzy said, pressing kisses to the vampires neck as he relaxed back into them. They pulled their hand away, reaching behind them and cleaning his spend off of their fingers with a towel. 

Ozzy kissed the tip of Astarion’s ear, placing a rag in his hand to clean up. Once Astarion had wiped himself down and tucked his length back into his trousers, he turned to the tiefling, pressing his lips to theirs. Astarion turned around fully, trailing his lips down their jaw to their neck, a hand coming up to press against their core. 

“Astarion,” Ozzy said, pushing him away gently. “This wasn’t a transaction. You don’t have to do something for me now,” they said, tucking a hair behind his ear. Astarion looked at them dumbfounded. “I did that because I wanted to. I did it because I…” the tiefling trailed off, taking in a deep breath. “I did it because I care about you,” they finished, averting their gaze. 

“Oh,” Astarion said, resting his head on Ozzy’s stomach. The tiefling wrapped their tail around his waist, holding him tightly against them. Astarion nuzzled his face against Ozzy, letting out a loud, contented sigh. 

“What were you going to say before?” Astarion said after a moment of silence, picking his head up to look at Ozzy. 

“What? Oh, nothing,” Ozzy said, their face turning red. 

“You said you did it because, and then trailed off,” Astarion continued, pulling himself up closer to Ozzy’s face. 

“Drop it, Starry,” Ozzy hissed, flicking his nose. 

“I care about you too,” he said, kissing their forehead before lying back down on their chest. 

[greyborn2]

WIP (belated) Wednesday

Got tagged in by the fantabulous pair @thana-topsy and @kookaburra1701 but, at the time, didn't have anything cooking. Have since cracked and started working on my still-unnamed Goblin TES fic featuring the Tel Mithryn crew and 1 (one) goblin!! So ya! Have finally written up a little chunk and toooootally not just using a belated WIP wednesday as an excuse to share it;

The town of Dagon Fel had, all things considered, taken the eruption of Red Mountain remarkably well. Those vicious plumes of ash and fire that had come forth from it, scouring most other settlements from Vvardenfell, had been redirected by the cliffs of Sheogorad’s southern shore. Dagon Fel, on the northern one, had been as protected as Raven Rock behind its bulwark. In the shadow of the ruins of Mzulft, the town survived. The town thrived.

Survivors had come flocking there, first in scatterings, then in droves. Settling down and quickly overpopulating the original Nord inhabitants of the town. It became a gateway settlement – the last stop for hundreds of refugees before they moved on to Solstheim, or Skyrim. The old Nordic townhouses torn down, or burned down by ashfall, to be replaced sturdier stone dunmeri buildings. A city of tents spiraling out around it, dwarfing that core permanent settlement in size and population alike.

Always, though, in that space between tent-town and true-town, a small gap was left. A market square, one might call it if they were being generous. In the panic to flee one’s home one grabbed all manner of brick-a-brack that only later, on reflection, turned out to be useless. Antique kitchenware, ceremonial armors… books. The refugees of Dagon Fel flocked to that market to pawn off those old keepsakes in the face of desperation, hoping to make a few more septims to fund their journey further afield from the vicious glow of the mountain.

All sorts of interesting things turned up in those markets. Things people didn’t need to survive, maybe, but had worth in other ways. It was this small market of desperate fools that kept Neloth coming back to Dagon Fel, away from his tower in Solstheim. That small market and the occasional treasures it held.

The boy – Talvas – was being a nuisance, as always, as children his age were want to do. Enough to make him question why he had taken him on as an apprentice in the first place. Running here and there, poking at the piles of trash and treasures the folks were trying to peddle, tugging on Neloth’s robe’s incessantly with some new exclamation of “Look at this master!” or “What about that master?”. His high spirits were sickening and his pestering a pain. To make matters worse the boy’s hands where filthy – though his ashen skin hid the true ash on them well – and he kept. Rubbing. Those. Grubby. Hands. On. His. Best. Robes.

Neloth let out a hiss of annoyance, shooing his pest of an apprentice away again to return his attention to the reason he had come here. Not that any amount of attention would help – on the sliding scale of trash to treasure it was decidedly skewed towards the former this season. No matter how refugees tried to extort the ‘historical value’ of ancient familial records or now-useless scrolls of Almsivi Intervention they were of no use, and even less interest, to him.

Slowly but surely his circuit brought him from the trash markets to the one place in Dagon Fel that could be relied upon for some base level of quality. Even if the goods here were decidedly more… perishable.

As such places generally were, the slave markets of Dagon Fel were a sad little affair. Only the Dres tried to hide the misery places like that held. Mostly this one wasn’t even run by distinguished traders, it was just unfortunates trying to sell themselves or a family member off for some hope of escaping this ashen rock. It took Neloth a good hour of questioning and shooing away hopefuls before he even started to find some that knew the first thing about brewing tea. Even fewer seemed to have the skill… the basic decencies… he expected of a potential steward.

He had just started to talk with a promising young woman – a Nalona or Varona or something to that effect – when that blasted apprentice of his came to pester once more. Tugging away on his sleeve, leaving dusty, grimy, fingerprints on the yellowed fabric he had worked – or more accurate had someone else work – to keep so clean. “Master Neloth, sir!! Sir!!” he had said, eagerly, “Not. Now. Boy. Go find some other children to pester with your inane discoveries…” “But… Master Neloth… sir… it’s so ugly!!!” – sure enough, the boy was pointing eagerly with his other, equally filthy, hand towards a nord man of no fair looks but… no… he was pointing at what the man was holding. Not the man. What he was trying to sell. A small bundle that, after a moment, Neloth realized was a baby. Or else something decidedly baby-shaped.

“We are looking for a steward, boy. Not another infant. Now please, me and Sera Belona-” the young woman interjected with a quiet, barely audible, correction of ‘Varona, sir’ under her breath “-yes, yes, that’s what I said. We were talking, boy.”

“But… master… it’s hideous!! It has to be half… half Falmer or… or… something!! Maybe even a troll!!”

There was no arguing with him. Besides, he was mostly done with this Varona woman anyway… what could be the harm in amusing the boy just this once? Neloth let out a long sigh, gesturing towards the docks and saying a last few words to the woman before he followed his apprentice to see the sight; “You will report to my ship, at the docks. Sera Mothren will give you something more… presentable… to wear for the return voyage to Tel Mithryn. You are to treat her with all the respect you would treat me. She is an asset to my house and I will not have her disrespected.” “I… yes Serjo Neloth, sir. Understood, sir.” – she wasted no time, at least, following the orders she had been given.

All in all, Neloth wasn’t completely sure what he had expected to see bundled up in the Nord warrior’s arms, offered up for sale. Perhaps some unfortunate burn victim from the ashlands. Perhaps just a particularly hideous bosmeri babe, given the pathetically small size. No… what he saw instead caught him by no small surprise, even if he did his best to hide it.

It was an infant, yes, but nothing human or merish. Not even orcish.

If an adult of its species was a rat, this thing certainly looked the part of a newborn pup. Its flesh pinkish-grey rather than the grey-blue of an adult. Its eyes large enough to bulge out of its tiny head, though still sealed behind closed lids that had not yet opened and seen the world. Its skin wrinkled and thin enough that veins could be seen through it. More foetus than baby. Small enough that one could almost hold it all cupped in one hand. Long ears sticking out either side of its misshapen head under a soft white-haired fuzz. Viciously fanged mouth not even crying just… opening and closing. As if it expected food to be delivered straight to that vicious little maw it had. No… what his damnable apprentice had found was a goblin. A goblin babe.

[thegeminisage]

STAR TREK MASTERPOST

hi my name is liz and i'm watching the entirety of star trek in release order, so this post was SIGH inevitable. i will edit with updates it as i make more

FANFIC

Gambler's Knife - AOS, Spirk, 22k. Twelve years after Tarsus IV and three months after dying to realign the warp core and save his ship, Jim Kirk seems to have a new lease on life: he's been resurrected, started pursuing a tentative new relationship with Spock, and has an entire five-year mission ahead of him. That is, until the attempted murder of an old friend forces him to divert the Enterprise away from her intended course and towards Planet Q. After a chance encounter on the planet's surface, new secrets about Jim's time on Tarsus IV come to light—secrets that threaten to destroy everyone he fought to protect, and the new life he's finally achieved. Some things you carry with you wherever you go.

SKIP/WATCH LIST

as i watch star trek, i am making an incredibly detailed spreadsheet which aims to guide new people into what to watch...or what not to watch. this list includes every single movie and tv series (including the animated ones), multiple watch orders (release order vs chronological order), runtimes, content warnings, and indicators on which characters feature in which episodes + indicators on which episodes are important for continuity. the only catch is i am updating it as i go, so it's a verrry slow work in progress. i've also still got a few blanks in the tos bit.

currently the only tumblr post with a link is this one, but i'll make a better post once i've finished going back and filling in the blanks on the tos section.

SPOCKANALIA DIGITIZATION

@maulthots and i are working on digitizing all 5 volumes of SPOCKANALIA - retyping text, cleaning up images, and adding alt text. they'll be added here as we complete them.

Volume 1

EPISODE REWRITES

sometimes star trek makes me crazy and i wanna fix it, but i don't have the time or patience to rewrite it in fic form so we get tumblr posts instead. they are in the order that i did them. right now there are only a few but i want to do like a thousand

[tos] the motion picture

[tos] the tholian web

[tng] violations

META

these are mostly small posts for now. someday i might make big ones.

marrying a vulcan is not unlike being a horsegirl

tos kirk vs aos kirk on retirement and the infinity of the universe

tos spock vs aos spock on love and death being real

tos spock vs aos spock on becoming close to one parent but remaining forever separated from the other

kirk and bones react differenly to spock showing emotion

CLOSE ENCOUNTERS OF THE SPACE BABES - kirk's encounters with women are often nonconsensual (collaboration with @maulthots)

funniest possible pre-mcspirk situation in aos

aos plot devices we could have had

small post about vulcans getting drunk on chocolate the first time

GRAPHICS

most of these are shitposts.

spock in shades for my header

"then perish" tas bones meme

spones graphic for wrath of khan/search for spock

CLIPS

i make clip shows sometimes.

bones being possessed in search for spock

tos scenes that remind me of tarsus iv

kirk insults spock for a minute and a half

kirk reacting to spock's emotions vs bones reacting to spock's emotions

STAR TREK TAGS

#tos -the original series

#tas - the animated series

#tmp - the motion picture

#wok - the wrath of khan

#sfs - the search for spock

#tvh - the voyage home

#tff - the final frontier

#tuc - the undiscovered country

#tng - the next generation

#ds9 - deep space nine

#aos - collective tag for the kelvin timeline movies

#st books - posts about the star trek novels

#st comics - posts about the star trek comics

#vintage trek - anything from before the turn of the century

#spockanalia - post about spockanalia, an early spock-centric fanzine

#spirk - kirk/spock

#spones - spock/bones

#mckirk - kirk/bones

#mcspirk - spock/kirk/bones

#st fav - fav star trek posts

LIVEBLOG TAGS

this includes the series AND the novelizations, if/when applicable - i am working my way through the tos movie novelizations and i want to read more. also, spockanalia <3

#tos lb - the original series liveblog (technically i didn't start liveblogging it until late into the series. rip)

#tas lb - the animated series liveblog

#tmp lb - the motion picture liveblog

#wok lb - wrath of khan liveblog

#sfs lb - search for spock liveblog

#tvh lb - the voyage home liveblog

#tff lb - the final frontier liveblog

#tuc lb - the undiscovered country liveblog

#tng lb - the next generation liveblog

#ds9 lb - deep space nine liveblog

#aos lb - the kelvin timeline movies (not much here because i wasn't star trek posting back when they came out)

#spockanalia lb - spockanalia

#star trek blogging - all of the above put together

MISC

my top 10 and worst 10 tos episodes

non-exhaustive list of youtube videos of vintage trek commercials, feel free to add your own

funny and unhelpful version of the skip/watch list i used with friends ie my only true record of tos first impressions

star tos "episode sorter" to rate every episode from best to worst

tos episodes on a tier maker

[allthecanadianpolitics]

The City of Kelowna, B.C., is asking for a judge to step in and put an end to the so-called "Freedom Rally" protests that have become a feature of life in the downtown core for more than two years.

The city filed a petition in B.C. Supreme Court on Monday, asking for an injunction against local activist David Lindsay and his pseudolaw organization Common Law Education and Rights that would prevent them from holding marches and events, selling merchandise or erecting tents at Stuart Park.

Kevin Mead, Kelowna's bylaw services manager, said city staff have repeatedly spoken with protest organizers and handed out nearly 200 bylaw offence notices, with no change in behaviour and no payment of fines.

"This is about the fair and equitable use of the space for all members of the public," he told CBC. [...]

The city's petition alleges that rally organizers have broken numerous parks, traffic and outdoor events bylaws, along with its "Good Neighbour Bylaw." [...]

Continue Reading.

Tagging: @politicsofcanada

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

WIP Wednesday

Thank you @jennaispunk for the tag.

I'm currently working on Elks, another Baseball Joel entry, and a totally self indulgent* piece where Joel takes you, Sarah and Sarah's friend Ellie (duh) to Disney World for Sarah's 16th birthday.

*I can't get the thought of Joel (discreetly it is a family destination) fucking someone on a balcony in the middle of the night while looking at the Castle. You know he's spending good contractor $$$ and getting two theme park view rooms at the Polynesian for his daughter's sweet 16.

Elks:

Two weeks, it’s only been two weeks, but it’s been two weeks of longing glances, shared stories over meals, quiet understandings, smart replies followed by laughter. Two weeks of thinking about him and missing him. You’ve wanted this since you saw him, the desire burning louder once he was no longer a handsome stranger. You’ve reached an ignition point, and Joel is right there with you, holding the match. 

His hands grab your hips, you can feel him against you, his pants tenting against your core. Denim rubbing against denim as you grind against him. 

Joel peppers kisses down your mouth to your chin, running his tongue down your neck, placing open mouth kisses against your collarbone. He explores you like he’s mapped his journey in his head before. You tip your head back and moan out as his hands drag up and cup your breasts. He licks his way back up your neck, your hands grab at his jaw, the desire in his eyes darkening them. 

“Joel…” you breathe out.

“What is it sweetheart?”

“I—I want you.”

“Heh,” his exhale hits your lips as he puts his forehead against yours, “I want you too sweetheart.”

————

Baseball Joel:

“I am, yeah, I will be. I’m sorry, it just really hit me how long it’s been and I guess I’m just nervous about everything we have to do. I don’t want to lose you…” and at those words and the fear that gets planted inside your heart, you pull your fingers away from your cunt.

“We’re going to figure it out sweetheart. M’not losing you.” Joel follows you and unwraps his hand from around himself. “It has been long, but we’ll have almost a week together next week.”

“Five games?”

“Five games.” The softness of his voice and the reassuring smile he gives makes your stomach twist. The slow realization of your true feelings for him speeding up inside your heart.

“I’m sorry.” An apology, you’re almost embarrassed by your juvenility, missing your boyfriend so much you almost started to cry.

“Baby, you don’t have to apologize, believe me, I understand.”

“Did you still want to…”

“I’m only happy doing what you want to, sweetheart.”

“I want to show you how much I miss you.” Your hand snakes up your body to start petting the area between your breasts, the place where Joel always like to nuzzle his face in and smell your skin.

“Fuck, okay sweetheart.”

————

Disney World:

“So there’s a ride in that big ball?”

“Yep! It’s all about the past and the future,” Sarah leans forward with her phone to take a selfie of herself wearing Minnie ears without skipping a beat. “It’s called Spaceship Earth, and the whole ride is in it.”

“Mm.” Joel cocks an eyebrow.  “Do we go to space?” 

“Nope,” you smile as you apply sunscreen on your shoulders, Joel’s eyes watching your actions. “It’s educational.”

You notice how his hands tense at his sides as he watches you rub the lotion up your neck and around your chest. You love being able to spend so much time with Sarah and Ellie but by the end of the day, when you and Joel lock the door to the connecting room, that’s when the best part of vacation starts.

“I think it’s bull there’s no space in something called ‘Spaceship Earth’ if you ask me. Super disappointed by the name,” Ellie laments.

“Well, cheer up kid, it’s where we’re headed to now,” you say zipping up the backpack Joel’s carrying after putting your sunscreen away.

“Let’s go learn something then I guess,” Joel grabs your hand and leads the four of you through the crowd. You love how people part for him, the broadness of his shoulders standing out amongst the herd of fellow tourists. 

[ghostoffuturespast]

Find the Word/Manuscript Search Tag

Tagged by @morganlefaye79! Thanks so much! :)

I've done one of these before with a different set of words, but got a fresh batch and it's a fun easy way to showcase writing.

My words were: refuse, deep, kiss and beach.

Refuse

V hesitated. “And if I refuse?” Jenkins tilted his head at the hint of insubordination. “This isn’t a request V. And take this.” He pulled a stack of paper eddies out of another case and set it on the table. “Use this money only, find the right people for the job - no corporate affiliation. And for the core task use someone you know. Inside and out. Are we clear?” “Crystal.” She reached down and pocketed the stack of eddies.“In that case, I’ll await your report. My AV is waiting outside, it’s yours to use. Don’t disappoint me.” V turned and quickly left the office. Jenkins started another holo call as she passed through the doors. She almost ran down the hallway. Fingers shaking, her heart was going to explode out of her chest, and everything around her was moving too slow. She wrenched her desk drawer open and relief washed over her as she took a hit of the neuro stim. She eased herself down into her chair and leaned her head back at the ceiling, with the neuro stim she could finally think clearly.

Deep

She turned around. The man was taller than Jackie by a few inches. His shaved scalp and last-gen military grade cybernetic eye cut an intimidating figure. V guessed he was probably a detective but, with the faux fur lined coat and the one earring, she couldn’t make up her mind if he resembled a pimp or a pirate more. He was tan and broad shouldered, muscles hidden underneath his coat. V noticed the cybernetic hand and decided on pirate. Toss in a hat and a hook. She might consider him decent looking if he didn’t have such a deep scowl marring his features. V blinked, that hit to the head was talking awfully loud.

Kiss

Warm lips caught River by the corner of his mouth, spanning the scant space in between them. He angled his head toward her to correct course and meet her fully. Tentative. Questioning. V leaned into the kiss, hands coming up to cup his jaw, asking for more. Slender fingers traced heavy down his neck, stumbling over the sleeves of his coat on their journey. Cool glossy fingertips tempered his heated skin, running over his chest and along the muscles of his arms. Breath mingled as River bent forward and kissed V back, sharp edges yielding to softness. Too close, too far. It wasn’t enough. River looped one of his massive arms around V’s waist, coat and all, to draw her closer.

Beach

River unlocked the door to his apartment and leaned heavily against the doorframe once inside. He stared blankly out the tiny sliver of a window he had, a small glimpse of the ocean in the distance. River wouldn’t call it beach front property, but it was a damn sight nicer than some of the other places he’d lived. He heaved a sigh. There were no cockroaches waiting for him at the door. Shucking off his boots, he hung up his coat and secured his revolver, before making his way to the shower. The hot water did okay at washing away his afternoon but did little to erase the events of the past week. He ran his hands over his face, deciding the stubble was a problem for tomorrow. Toweling off and throwing on a pair of sweatpants, he fell face first into his mattress like a sack of bricks.

Tagging with no pressure: @fly-amanitaa @another-corpo-rat @merge-conflict @vox-monstera @setaflow @just-a-cybercroissant

Your words should you choose to accept your mission: soft, neon, blood, & haze.

[theluckywizard]

In the Shattering of Things, Chapter 26: Breakdown

A Dragon Age: Inquisition Longfic

New Chapter of In the Shattering of Things featuring Rose Trevelyan x Cullen with a side helping of x warrior Garrett Hawke.

...I stumble to a halt at the tent at the center of the commotion and it’s chaos inside. The canvas is burning already and a girl– she couldn’t be more than fifteen– is doubled over, her body wrenching in unholy directions, surging outward as if failing to restrain a monster within and then containing itself again inside her skin, pulsating from part creature to human again and again. Her screams are hers and then they’re not– they tumble into an impossible register, in dual-toned growls from beyond the Veil and more fire spits from her fingers, consuming the shelter around her. 

I fall, landing hard on my back and scramble backward, my feet slipping in the soft snow. No . It’s too convenient– too on the nose. Solas only just dredged up that memory– altered it– and here I’m confronted again by the grotesqueness of it, the terror of possession. There’s a flood of voices that converge into mud– shouts, pleas, commands. A barrage of activity that I can’t access, like looking at it all through a keyhole helplessly. My fingers dig into the snow as my mind jerks and panics, my pulse thumping in my neck and my sternum, my breath uneven and shallow even as I gulp for air. Then nausea blooms within me, rising from my core and cascading from the crown of my head. But I’m lifted away, first by my hand, and then when I don’t move fast enough, by my waist and finally I’m lifted clumsily off my feet, thrown awkwardly over an armored shoulder. Footprints in the snow. Footprints in the snow. Focus on the footprints in the snow.

I’m set down under an evergreen more carefully than I’d been picked up and a tower of a woman stands over me, her arms crossed as she paces side to side a little helplessly. I’m not with it yet though, certainly in no space to think clearly as my mind is tumbled, recycled back into the visions of Jaime succumbing to possession that are branded into my memory. I think I heave in the snow, but I might have imagined it. Time is lost– moving too quickly and yet too slowly as if I’m outside of it all together. The words start to come through. “Stabilized.” “She’s safe.” “Dampened and monitored.” But I can’t scrape together enough actual consciousness to find my way back. I’m bowled under memories and sensations, trapped under them like the massive waves that pummel the coast along my estate.

“Herald,” it’s a woman’s voice but it only grazes me. There’s some muffled discussion above me.

“Maker’s breath, she saw that?” More familiar. A figure steps before me, filling the space in my field of view, crouching in front of me. They’re fuzzy but they’re there. Hands squeeze mine and I can focus on that. The creak of leather, the even pressure circling my hands, centering me.

“Herald.” It’s a plea but I’m still looking at our hands, still under.

“Lady Trevelyan.” The hands tighten.

“Rose.” I move my focus from the hands upward, following the glint of steel gauntlet and pauldron and I know it’s him. I withdraw a hand to rub my forehead. I can smell the vomit now, melting into the snow beside me– it wasn’t imagined. “Tell me where you are.” A command.

“I was with Solas– the mage encampment. We saw smoke…”

“Good,” Cullen’s voice is calm and he takes my free hand again because I’m not quite there. He leans into where I’m looking so I can catch his eyes and I do, unwavering and golden. “It’s going to be all right. The girl is safe for the moment.”.....

DAFF Crew tags @warpedlegacy, @rakshadow, @rosella-writes, @effelants, @bluewren, @breninarthur , @ar-lath-ma-cully , @dreadfutures , @ir0n-angel , @inquisimer , @nirikeehan and @oxygenforthewicked .