#thank you all for the positive response to part one it truly means a lot!!!

[jemiswumbo]

you be tails, i’ll be sonic (18+)

twitch streamer!luke x reader

part one

authors note: hi hi i’m back with a highly requested part two!! i loved making the graphics for this chapter lol. hope you all enjoy!!!

title is from you be tails, i’ll be sonic by a day to remember. lyrics have no relation to the fanfic, but it IS an absolute banger. anthem. bop. classic.

tags/warnings: smau elements. nsfw elements - MDNI. not proofread. use of y/n.

Over on the desk, Luke’s phone would not stop vibrating.

For the last hour, you’d managed to ignore it, as you were too preoccupied by Luke fucking you with no remorse. Now, as you lay spent and naked and cuddled together until the blankets, the sound was driving you insane.

“Luke,” you whined, burying your face into the crook of his neck (which was now littered with red and purple hickies). “Please shut your phone off.”

Luke chuckled beside you, running a hand through your messy hair. “I will in a minute, I’ll probably have to tweet an explanation for why I shut off my stream so suddenly.”

“Okay. That’s fair,” You decided. Luke leaned over and stretched out his arm, grasping the phone from his desk. He snuggled back in beside you and you watched as he scrolled through a flood of notifications.

The first app he opened was discord, where his gamer friends were chatting in their private server about Luke’s random disconnection.

“Thank god one of my friends was able to figure it out.” Luke murmured, causing you to giggling. Annabeth was, by far, the smartest of the group. Most days it seemed like she was the only one with a working brain cell. You and her got along great, as you worked to keep the boys and thalia in check. They loved to cause a scene or do some dumb shit no matter where they went. It was tons of fun and always entertaining, but also nerve wracking. If they ever caused too big of a scene, someone could takes pictures or videos, upload them… as some of the most popular twitch streamers, everyone would be recognized instantly.

Except for you.

You (by choice) remained out of the spotlight. You loved Luke dearly and desperately wanted to make your relationship public, but the thought of having hundreds of thousands of eyes watching you, loving you, hating you…. it was scary. And you weren’t delusional — you knew, one day, you’d have to step into the public eye. You just didn’t know when you’d be ready.

Luke wrapped up the Discord conversation with his friends and switched over to Twitter, where tons of his fans were talking about his disconnection. You took a deep breath to clear your head, and read some of the tweets on his phone screen.

“Your fans are so goofy,” You said, pressing a kiss to Luke’s cheek. “So… what’s the move? Wifi crashed? Rage quit? Oh my god, what if you confirm Boner Theory?!”

“Jesus, never in my life,” Luke groaned. “I’ll just say it was my wifi. Unless….”

Your eyes widened. You sat up, not caring that the bed sheet fell to your lap, exposing your naked chest. Your heartbeat was definitely exceeding a normal BPM reading. “Baby.. I love you. So much. And I would love to be public. I would love to be your date to the Streamer Awards, and support you at Twitch Con, and cheer you on during your Fortnite tournaments…. But I just don’t think I’m ready.”

“Hey, hey,” Luke sat up, too, enveloping you in his strong, muscled arms and squeezing you tight. “It’s okay, it’s okay. I just thought it wouldn’t hurt to ask. But you know I respect your choices and would never pressure you to do anything you don’t want to do.”

“I know,” You sighed, relishing in the warm embrace, and the feeling of your bare chest pressed against his. You swore he could feel how fast your heart was racing. “But also, you can’t say we’re dating now. Boner Theory is a thing, babe. Surely, at least one of your fans would connect the dots.”

Luke laughed and pulled away from the hug, taking a moment to press and long and loving kiss to your head. He smiled at you, his brown eyes sparkling. “You’re so perfect, you know that?”

You shoved him away. “Okay. Tweet something, so we can go watch a movie and smoke and have more sex.”

“Okay, okay,” Luke said, kissing you again and sending some half assed tweet out to his fans. He shut off his phone and grinned. “Let’s order take out, too.”

*************************************

A few weeks later…

*************************************

It was, officially, your one year anniversary of dating Luke Castellan.

You were beyond happy, and over the moon excited for the special dinner you had both planned for the evening. Luke had surprised you with reservations to your all time favourite restaurant. You were going to surprise him afterwards with a brand new lingerie set. It was going to be perfect.

The only, only thing that was making you nervous was the fact that you’d decided today was the day.

You were going to tell Luke, tonight at dinner, that you were ready to go public.

After the whole Boner Theory ordeal, you’d spent countless nights and hours debating your previous decision to keep your relationship private. You knew it was going to have to happen eventually. You also didn’t mind his fan girls; but deep down you got giddy over the thought of showing them all he was taken and he was yours. It would feel so good. And you wouldn’t have to stay out of photos when you hung out with Luke, Percy, Annabeth, Grover, and Thalia. You could go to events with him. You could come up behind him while he was streaming to drop off a coffee or food or kiss his cheek without worrying about it.

There were cons, of course. Most of the debating revolved around the cons, and whether or not it was truly worth it. After all these weeks, you decided it was worth it. You were one hundred percent ready.

You spent the few hours before dinner having an everything shower, doing your best makeup, curling your hair, and choosing an outfit. It helped keep your mind occupied and the stress at bay.

Around 7pm, Luke texted saying he was outside of your apartment. You grabbed your purse and slid on a pair of black heels before racing out the door.

Luke’s car was not hard to miss. He had chosen to pick you up in his bright red McLaren, since it was a super special occasion. He typically never took it out of his garage as it was insanely expensive and just downright beautiful.

You gave him a little twirl on your walk over to the passenger seat, not missing the impressed grin he flashed at your from inside. You hopped in the car and didn’t hesitate to lean over and place a kiss to his lips. He presented you a huge bouquet of fresh, dark red roses. You gasped and clutched the bouquet in your arms, kissing his cheek and expressing your gratitude.

“You look stunning,” Luke said, eyeing you up, clearly in awe. You laughed and blushed, enjoying the praise. “Seriously. I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

“What did I do to deserve you?” You retorted, besrt racing at the sight of his gorgeous features. He was dressed up, wearing a sharp grey suit with a dark with a black button up beneath. He was so good looking, you simply swooned just from his smile alone. The smell of the roses made you feel like you were on cloud nine.

The drive to the restaurant was quick. The waiter showed you to your table, which was secluded in the back corner and shrouded by a wall and some pretty plants. The lights were dimmed and candles were lit. Luke ordered an expensive bottle of wine, which you both shared and sipped on while waiting for the food to arrive. It was now or never.

“Okay, baby,” You started, dabbing your napkin to your lips. “I’ve thought long and hard about this. But I think I’m ready to go public with our relationship.”

Across the table, Luke’s eyes widened and he spluttered, mid sip. He coughed into the back of his hand and you bit your lip nervously, waiting for his response.

“Are you sure, angel?” Luke asked, reaching out to take your hand in his. He rubbed his thumb against your skin in comfort. “Once we go public we can never go back. My fans will know who you are.”

“I know,” You said, firmly. You offered him a warm smile. “Like I said, I’ve been thinking about this for a while. And I’m ready. Definitely, totally ready.”

“Well in that case, I’ve had an Instagram post drafted for like, the last three months. I can finally post it!” Luke said, picking his phone up from the corner of the table.

You smacked his arm in playful angry, failing to suppress the smile making it way to your cheeks. “You are so dumb. They better be cute pictures, at least.”

“They are, I swear!” Luke laughed. “Cute caption, too. You promise you’re okay with me posting it?”

“Yes, Luke. I promise.” You took his hand again, letting out a shaky breath and trying to muster some courage. “I know it’s only been a year of dating, but I can whole heartedly say you are my best friend in the whole world. I love you. I truly do see us being together forever. So I want to make it public now, on our terms.”

“I love you, too, baby.” Luke said with an attractive grin. You blushed and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear shyly, whilst he set up his Instagram post. After a few silent moments, he flashed you a triumphant thumbs up. “There, it’s posted. I tagged you, too.”

You ignored the buzzing of your own phone, choosing to flip it to silent mode. “Happy Anniversary, my love.”

Luke smiled at you, once again taking your hand in his. With utmost sincerity and his heart of gold, he replied, “Happy Anniversary to you too, angel.”

a/n: thank you all for reading, hope you enjoy!! again this is not proofread. part 3 with the streamer awards??? 👀👀

taglist: @augustiscoquette

[mutable-manifestation]

Actual Scientists Jack & Maddie AU Part 3

Part 1 & 2

***

The lab is empty when they get to Fenton Works, his parents busy off helping the JLD wherever it was they were working from.

The journey the rest of the way to the Far Frozen passes relatively quickly under the weight of discussing how to reverse engineer the sarcophagus of forever sleep to make Naptime Box 2: Vlad Edition.

Could they probably just beat him up with the right plan and aid? Sure. But then they risk having to play royal hot potato (Danny doesn't want it and he doubts most of the allies he has would want the extra responsibility. Assuming there are responsibilities - Danny wouldn't know since there hasn't been a king, for all intents and purposes, since well before he became a halfa so who knows what the position even means in the context of the Zone).

Plus it would be way more satisfying to shove him in a box. Vlad gets a nice long nap and Danny gets to live the rest of his half-life without worrying about his Dad getting stabbed or something if Vlad starts feeling impatient.

It would also give Danny plenty of time to find some way to buy the Packers - not because he wants them, just because it would be really funny if Vlad eventually woke up to find that the only thing he wanted other than Maddie was now also very permanently out of reach.

The city of Green Bay could fold eventually, after all. But Danny? Danny would never yield, just to spite him, and Vlad would know that.

He probably won't actually do it, seeing as a) expensive and b) probably complicated.

But it would be really funny.

Their discussion on the ethics of using the Fenton Stockades as the base for the Box cut off as they land.

Without the distraction of their chat the adrenaline of panic comes rushing back, and he transforms as he steps out of the Speeder, nyooming to hover in front of Frostbite so quickly that the entire welcoming party - Frostbite somehow manages to have one arranged every time he drops by, and Danny is usually willing to at least try and indulge them since it seems to make them happy - jolts in surprise.

"Greetings!" Frostbite smiles wide, arms open in a grand welcoming, the only hint of lingering surprise the trails of slightly puffed up fur up his arms and the sides of his neck that has already mostly smoothed itself back out. "The Far Frozen welcomes the Great One and friends-"

"Hey Frostbite sorry for being abrupt but I'm kind of freaking out and you seemed like the best person - uh, ghost to go to because you always seem to know lots of things and I kind of need to know what's going on as soon as possible just in case it's a worst case scenario because the Justice League came to talk to my parents about some papers and I probably haven't mentioned them to you before because they're awful and I thought my parents made them but surprise I was wrong! Which is good! Except the League was mostly worried about them maybe causing the new ghost king to war with the human realm because apparently there's a supernatural branch of the Justice League and they think there's a new Ghost KingTM as in the Ghost King after Pariah Dark and I'm kind of freaking out because if there is a new ghost king there's actually a chance it's Vlad and oh ancients please tell me it's not Vlad or that the League heard wrong please."

Sam and Tucker had caught up by then, coming to stand on either side of him as Frostbite blinked.

"You are...asking me the identity of the current High King?" He asks, face scrunched in a bewildered expression.

"Oh my gosh Batman was right!?" He floats a bit higher at the news. "Please just tell me it's not Vlad! Uh, Plasmius."

"Plasmius?" Frostbite asks, eyebrows crawling higher. "Certainly not! What in the realms - do you truly not know?"

"Oh thank goodness," Danny sighs, sinking back to his usual level. "Not Vlad, okay, one less disastrous possibility. And whoever it is probably already knows they're the king and nothing bad has happened yet so it's probably fine, right?"

He looks back to meet Frostbite's eyes.

"Wait, nothing bad has happened yet, right? Like, is everything okay? I know Pariah caused you guys a lot of grief before; the new guy 's not going around causing trouble for you and you just haven't told me because you're worried about being a bother, right?" He frets, eyes flicking about, searching for fresh injuries on the various members of the welcoming party.

"...No, Great One," Frostbite answers, blinking away the surprised expression to be replaced by something soft. "Though I, and all the Far Frozen, are honored by your concern. While Pariah Dark is no longer the High King of the Infinite Realms, I can assure you, with utmost certainty, that you have nothing to fear from his successor. But I believe we have much more to discuss. Come, let us find somewhere more comfortable to talk - and get your human friends out of the cold."

***

It didn't take them long to reach a sitting room, and soon enough they were all settled into the enormous, fuzzy chairs in one of the warmer rooms available, Danny and Frostbite each with a cup of shaved ice tea while Sam and Tucker were offered beverages warm enough to steam in deference to their need for warmth.

Once everyone had taken a sip - or bite - Danny launched back into his questioning.

"So did Dark have a kid hidden away somewhere or did some kind of council finally decide on his replacement? Actually can ghosts even have - wait right Box Lunch, forgot about that on purpose but never mind. Or is there some fourth option that isn't those or trial by combat that we didn't think of?"

"Before I answer that, Great One, may I ask why you have already discounted trial by combat?" He returns curiously.

"Because if it was trial by combat it would be Vlad - er, Plasmius - and you already said it isn't him."

"Or it could be you," Tucker ribs, waggling his fingers at him.

"We already talked about why it couldn't be me, Tuck," Danny huffs, rolling his eyes and taking another bite of his... smoothie?

"Oh? And why do you think it would be Plasmius?" Frostbite asks.

"Because! I may have fought Pariah Dark, and sure I put him back in the sarcophagus, but I was running on fumes by that point, and he was still slamming around in there! Vlad, as much as I hate to admit it, is the one that turned the key and made sure he stayed locked away. It took almost everything I had to keep him pinned long enough. If...if he'd been even a few seconds later I probably would've died the rest of the way before he even had the time to break out a second time."

"But had you not put him there, no key would have mattered," Frostbite begins quietly. "Plasmius was no match for Pariah Dark; he was defeated in an instant the first time they clashed."

"Well, yeah, but so was I," he protests, not liking the direction the conversation is beginning to take.

"And yet, you alone went to face him a second time. You alone stood against the King of All Ghosts while your armies clashed."

"Our-!? I didn't have- you mean the ghosts that came to help me???" Danny sputtered, incredulous. "They weren't an army they were just-"

He pauses, searching for words that would not come.

"They were just a large group of ghosts who sided with you, who aided you in combat and kept the multitudes distracted while you went to face their leader alone. However you thought of them at the time, whatever they were to you up till then or are to you now, after, in that moment they were your army."

"Danny's totally the ghost king, isn't he?" Sam drawls after the brief silence that follows.

"Indeed," Frostbite answers her, but he looks Danny in the eyes as he does so. "You are the savior of the Ghost Zone, Pariah's Bane. And you are the High King of the Infinite Realms."

"I cheated!" Danny blurts out, shooting up to float above his chair.

"Cheated?" Frostbite's lips twitch as he fights down a smile.

"I had the Fenton Ecto-Skeleton! That's totally cheating! Don't combat trials have to be honorable or something?!" He begs.

Frostbite chuckles.

"I apologize, Great One, but I am afraid there is no such thing as an honorable war," he says, expression briefly turning solemn. "And even if it were, just as you had your "Ecto-Skeleton," did not Pariah have his ring and crown?

You issued a challenge and he answered, your armies clashed while the two of you stood against each other and each other alone; you alone put him back into the Sarcophagus of Forever Sleep, and you alone held it shut long enough for Plasmius to turn the key.”

Danny drifts back down to his seat as Frostbite speaks, then continues slouching further with every word.

“I am given to understand that Plasmius likes to think of others as pawns on his own personal chessboard,” he says, “But at the time he was but another ghost, come to fight Pariah's army on your behalf - as a member of your army. A pawn, to paraphrase his own words, that you used to topple a king - not through any intentional manipulation, but through the sheer magnetic charisma of your willingness to stand against monsters like Pariah Dark and of your ability to do so. The confidence to stand alongside you that such strength inspires. 

He would not have approached if he did not believe you could win - would not risk endangering himself so. At best, you could consider him a referee, calling the match to a close once it was decisively in your favor.

Plasmius may think of existence as a game with himself as the only player, and he may have been acting in his own self-interest overall, but by every measure, in this instance, he was undeniably your piece.

The Zone itself acknowledges your right to rule by the way the crown of fire sits where you left it, unmoving on the floor of Pariah's keep until the day you finally choose to wear it, no matter how many hands may try to move it."

Frostbite's words are slow and measured, but as undeniable as the creeping of a glacier. And by the time they cease, Danny has sunk so far as to end up an undignified heap on the floor before his chair.

The trio remains silent as they absorb his words.

Minutes pass before Danny finally speaks.

"If the crown can't be taken, then how did I get it from Pariah?" He questions, a final hope that Frostbite may be mistaken.

"It will only remain unmoved until you first put it on. After that, it will be up to you whether it stays safe on your head."

Danny groans his despair, final bit of hope shattered.

"I must apologize again, Great One," he says solemnly. "Had I known you were unaware of your station, I would have informed you sooner."

He frowns heavily, looking into the distance thoughtfully.

"The Observants should have informed you long before now."

"Well, that explains it. The Observants hate Danny's guts," Tucker says.

"To neglect their duties for such a reason...," He trails off, his glower highlighting the inhuman nature of his visage. 

The trio fidget.

Danny coughs after a few seconds of tense silence.

“Uh, speaking of duties,” he begins, relaxing as Frostbite’s expression smooths back into something kind and polite as he listens, “What exactly does the Ghost King even do? Like. Pariah was locked away for… a long time? I guess. So does the Zone even need a King? Can’t I just, like, resign?”

“I suppose it might seem that way from a younger ghost’s perspective - Pariah has been locked away for millenia, after all, and the Zone is still in one piece.” 

Frostbite pauses, leaning back in his seat and taking another bite of his drink. 

“However. What you must understand, Great One, is that the problems caused by the absence of a king in the Infinite Realms are not the whirlwind that such a thing would be in the living realm - social order is affected, but the speed of bureaucracy is slower by orders of magnitude in the Realms, and there is not the same level of inter-reliance that the living tend to require - but rather, they are winds and waters sliding against a rock, chipping away at it bit by bit until it is either worn smooth… or the whole structure collapses under its own weight.”

“How does not having a king cause dimensional collapse!?” Tucker shrieks, clutching his cup like a lifeline.

“How long do we have before it collapses?” Sam asks urgently not a second later.

“Oh shit, how long do we have before it collapses???” he echoes, hunching over his cup enough that the steam adds a layer of fog to his glasses.

Danny sits bolt upright, whipping wide eyes away from his friends to join them in staring at Frostbite.

“Total collapse would take millenia more to truly begin,” he placates before taking a more grave expression. “This does not mean that there will not be issues before that point, however; the symptoms of the High King’s absence have begun to show this past millennium. But rest assured, there is time enough to heal the wounds that have been wrought. The only permanent damage would be the collapse itself, and that, as I said, is millenia away.”

“Is… is that why you never mentioned it to me before?” Danny asks, dropping back to the ground in relief. “Because it’s not urgent and you figured I’d just…get to it eventually? Actually, why did you think I knew if you knew that the crown was still in Pariah’s Keep?”

“It is the duty of the Observants to observe, but also, as you have experienced, to oversee - the timeline, trials, the general functioning of the zone. Without a king to report to, much of their ability to act is crippled, of course - their ability to interfere directly with the timeline has always been severely restricted, their options for sentencing are severely reduced, and there are some things the Realms require that only the High King can provide - but one duty remains unaffected: overseeing the ascension of new kings. 

Coronations have taken many forms in the past, from a quick swap in the battlefield to a formal ceremony to a celebration that lasted a decade. Given the dark era we are, at last, able to put behind us and the non-urgent nature of even the most severe problems that the Realms are currently affected by, I had assumed that the large delay was in preparation for that last form - the lead-up to a grand celebration.”

“Except instead it’s just them being petty,” Sam notes, sitting back up from her own relieved slouch. 

Danny groans, leaving his tea to float and covering his face with his hands.

“Why couldn’t it have just been as easy as shoving Vlad in a box,” he whines.

“I mean, we still can?” Tucker offers, prompting Sam to smack him over the head before pausing consideringly.

“OW!”

“He might be right, actually,” she says, ignoring his exclamation. “Given Vortex’s trial and sentencing, there’s clearly some kind of legal system in the Zone that isn’t just Walker on a power trip. No doubt he’s broken some kind of Actual Realms Law - I’d be surprised if breaking Pariah out like he did wasn’t some form of highly illegal - so you could probably send him to actual Ghost Jail. It’s certainly where he belongs, given all the….”

She makes a vague gesture with her hand in lieu of words.

“That doesn’t resolve the problem of I Don’t Wanna Be A King!” Danny exclaims, sitting back and throwing his hands in the air.

Then he turns to Frostbite, eyes pleading. 

“Can’t you be king?” he asks. 

Frostbite opens his mouth to reply, but Danny steamrolls over him.

“It makes sense! You already know how to lead people! And your people love you! You already know about all the king stuff too! You’ve beaten me in spars before! We’d just have to go to the keep, I put on the crown, you beat me, and problem solved!”

Frostbite’s smile is a mix of amused and pitying.

“I have only ever beaten you in training spars, Great One, and you and I both know that is largely because they were focused on improving your skill with ice and ice alone. Even if I could defeat you in a true all-out fight as you are, I believe you underestimate the boost granted by the crown of fire.”

“I can just put it on then take it off again before we fight! And we can stick to ice!”

“I’m afraid it is not so simple,” he shakes his head. “If you do not give it your all, the crown - the Realms - will not recognize the transition. The only way to “throw the match” successfully would require your opponent to fully End you: to crush your core and snuff your spirit from the very fabric of existence. I am unwilling to do such a thing, and I sincerely hope you would not ask it of me - or, indeed, of anyone.”

Danny paled enough that he nearly matched his human form in skin tone.

“Right. Let’s… let’s not do that, actually.”

“On the bright side, you can probably weasel ruling tips out of Aquaman in exchange for not declaring war on the Living Realm!” Tucker chirps, aiming to cheer him up.

“I’m not going to threaten the Justice League!” he yelps, scandalized.

“But you probably won’t have to threaten them,” Sam chimes in. “They’re already trying to summon you, you already know their goal is to avoid a war. As long as you don’t ask for anything unreasonable, they should be inclined to give you what you want in exchange for peace.”

“Once you offer peace, they will be invested in your successful rule of their own volition as a means of perpetuating said peace,” Frostbite corrects. “If you would like to set preconditions to an accord you should make them things that will not readily be given as a result of said accord. But before we discuss further, perhaps you can fill me in on why war was a concern in the first place? I believe you mentioned something about papers?”

[lucysarah-c]

I apologize if this has been asked before but what do you think Levi's kinks are? :)

Hi, sweetie! Oh, do not worry, no need to apologize! I haven’t received this ask before, and even if I did, it’s not a biggie. I could just attach a link to that ask here <3 Do not worry.

MH, Levi’s kinks… good question.

Power play for sure. Have you seen this man say that “pain is the best discipline”? He's always 100% down to teach you your place, at least in the bedroom. Outside of it, he deeply respects your position. Inside the room? Oh baby girl, he wants you to know he’s in charge and could spend his entire life reminding you of it.

…Shibari or tying up. Have you seen those uniforms? Levi sees that harness and deep down he wonders how pretty you would look all tied up. This one is a bit more tricky, so he and you may work around it to see how much of it you're both into.

Overstimulation, absolutely. Those Ackerman powers are a blessing; he knows he can last for hours. Can you? Oh, it's okay, baby, don’t be scared. He'll just have to keep fucking you, and if by any means you end up feeling like your legs are made of jelly from all the times he made you cum… well, I guess that’s the consequence of dating humanity’s strongest soldier. I think he could just feel getting hard, or getting cocky by feeling how you shake against his face as he keeps eating you out like a thirsty man who had been traveling across a desert. The idea that he left you completely and absolutely destroyed makes him feel so cocky. You can accuse this man of many things, but leaving you unsatisfied in bed isn’t one of them.

Degradation and praise kink. Depending on the situation and his mood, he can go either way or BOTH at the same time. “Aw, you look so pretty riding my cock. You’re doing amazing, girly. Mh? Enjoy that dick?” you will nod as you ride him with all your life “I bet. What a dirty little cock whore you turned out to be.”

Alright, maybe this one isn’t popular and maybe it's a bit OOC on my part… Corruption kink. At multiple times in his life, as the famous former thug who lived in the most dangerous part inside the walls, the idea of getting you, looking at him with doe eyes through your eyelashes, faking innocence or truly having it… I can literally picture him thinking, “Doesn’t matter if she doesn’t have much experience or doesn’t know how to make me feel good yet. I’m a very good and patient teacher… have an entire lifetime to mold her into perfection.” He likes to save the best for last; this man would enjoy every single little detail of seeing you fall into the beautiful dark pleasure he can show you.

Those are the ones that come to mind rather quickly…

I’ll give you (as if my ramblings are worthy material to be gifted, lmao) 2 kinks that I DON’T think Levi has and I believe are very popular.

Breeding kink. Like this one, maybe depending on the situation and if it’s a “game” kind of thing. But I feel Levi is a person who takes paternity very seriously; it has to be a VERY particular scenario for me (at least canon Levi) where he’s like, “fuck it, yeah let’s risk getting you pregnant.” BUT it’s a kink I can see A LOT more in Post-War Levi; it’s not that he doesn’t want to breed you… he’s just too responsible to take the risk.

Daddy. HAHA I feel like if you called Levi that in the middle of sex, he would freeze a little and be like, “Sir? Yes. Captain? Absolutely. What did you just say? Just… no.” I dare to say that if you bring it up playfully, perhaps as a joke, he will wrinkle his nose and say, “If you want to fuck Erwin, just say it, but don’t bring that shit into my bedroom.”

I had fun writing this one; I feel it’s a classic “Levi’s blog” ask that surprisingly I’ve never received before! Thank you for that! Hope this was good enough.

Have a lovely day.

Link to my masterlist and my other works if you feel like checking them out. Tags!: @nube55 @justkon @notgoodforlife @nmlkys @humanitys-strongest-bamf @quillinhand @thoreeo @darkstarlight82 @angelofthorr @aomi04 @levisbrat25 @l3visthighs @hum4n-wr3ckag3 @hannieslovebot @starrylevi @rithty @mariaace @ackrmntea @emilyyyy-08 @levisfavoriteteashop @katestrophes @levistealeaf @an-ever-angry-bi @youre-ackermine @fxnnyackerman @secretmoneybearvoid @trashblackrainbow @flxrartsstuff @katharinasdiaryy @kikarouflames @levisecretgfblog @searriously @blackdxggr @ackermanswifee @abiatackerman @braunsbabe @moonchild-angel @storiesofsung @galactict3a @twruui @lemonsupernova @r3becca_0 @heyitsd1yaa @sydneyyuu @hyuckwon-my-husbands Wanna join my tag list? Here!

[hotheadedhero]

Ok question how would the tmnt bros (all 4) react to someone having a crush on them, and they confess, but the turtle rejects at time... but later on he realizes no wait I actually do like them!

But theres already been like a good month or more since the confession and their crush has been sorta avoiding them by hanging out with the other turtle bros and though still being polite, they avoid like being alone with their turtle crush and try to act like they don't have a crush still(but they do)

Sorry if I didn't write the request right! and thanks for your writing I love how you write the turtles!

Frothing at the mouth. No words. Speechless. Thank you so much anon! This request is absolutely amazing and tugged at my heart in all the good ways, you beauty. So glad you like my writing tyty <3 Apologies for the wait btw :] I might have meddled with the idea a bit depending on the turtle but I hope this is the kind of thing you were hoping for! May even make a part 2 continuation because there was just so much to write, this was really a lot of fun so thank you again :P I let fate decide which version to base this on and we got Bayverse!

Rejection, Realisation, and Regret

Warnings: bad language, grovelling turtles for their idiocy, angst with this in mind, oh these boys are some real idiots

Bay Turtles x Reader

Leonardo

Turns you down as gently as he can but it still feels like a sucker punch to the gut. It may sound calloused but he's a ninja, a mutant, a protector before anything else and that includes being someone's boyfriend. With a constructive discussion on the matter, he can only hope that you understand his position. You assured him that you did.

So, then, how is it that he barely gets a conversation in with you these days? And why does that fact burn a hole in his stomach? This pit, although metaphorical, weighs down heavily on him. Assumably, he’s missing one-on-one with a friend until it truly occurs to him just what exactly is going on. There's a lesson to be learned here, he's sure - a saying that goes around as if taken from an ancient script: you don't realise how good you have it until it's gone. You're not gone perse but you make a point of avoiding him individually. As well-mannered as you try to be, he's noticed and he's noticed the hurt in his belly that comes alongside it.

He thought things were okay, that despite the rejection, you would still be able to comfortably continue your friendship without any issues. It seems he managed even to fool himself. Being so caught up in what it means to be one of New York's self-acclaimed protectors, he was completely absentminded to the feelings that had been bubbling up inside him all along. No wonder he's been losing focus on his training as of late. He has attempted to try and talk to you about it but to no avail. Has your heart really been that broken?

For once, he doesn’t know what to do, or what decision should be made. He’s stuck between a rock and a hard place right now. Who's the one person he can turn to at a time like this? Come on. Who else would it be?

"Sensei, you know better than anyone that our position comes with complications. That we as ninjas are sworn to certain oaths.” 

"Yes, the duty of yourself and your brothers is indeed a heavy burden. Responsibility comes with risk and consequence as I am sure you are well aware of by now.” Splinter watches his son bow down as he thoughtfully strokes his beard.  "However, sensei, rat, master; alongside all of these things, I am foremost a father who wishes to see his sons be happy. You're in love, are you not?"

Leo’s attention quickly turns up from the floor to his master. How had he figured it out? Must be that parental instinct. Either way, he’s thankful for that in some respect. It makes this easier. Less complicated. 

The turtle nods and breathes out, "I am, Sensei."

"That's what I thought." His father lays a hand over Leo’s shoulder before it taps him against the side of his head. "Now, what are you waiting for? Talking to me isn't going to change the situation."

Splinter is right. It's high time for him to get out of his funk and strategise the best way to make amends. He can only hope he isn’t too late. 

Raphael

Rejects you thinking it was some sick prank curated by his youngest brother or something. There's no way you have a thing for him. He's a mutant and you're a human. How could someone actually be in love with a freak like himself? That's why he blows up in your face when you attempt to pour your heart out to him. Whatever joke you thought would be funny, isn't. 

He may have taken things out of proportion. This much is made obvious enough by the poorly thought-out excuses you make just to avoid being alone with him. Yeah, that's right, he thinks. You should feel ashamed for trying to pull a stupid stunt like that, for trying to mess with him. He's standing firm on his self-assurance. Don't think for a second that he's going to lose sleep over what he said that day.

However, life has a very funny way of playing its own game. It all comes to fruition when you're laughing with the leader of the brothers. When your hand landed on his forearm, Raphael was struck with something fierce. The shot of jealousy to his heart almost takes him for a wild spin but he disregards it for typical Leo/Raph rivalry. Until that night, anyway. This man is tossing and turning in bed, ruminating on that sickly feeling in his chest; losing sleep over it. No. Surely not. He isn't in love with you. This isn't something that's been in the making for however long now. So what if you managed to calm him down quicker than anyone else he's ever known? Big whoop if you used to make a point of checking up on him when no one dared to go near him. It’s no big deal that you’d hype him up and cheer him on before each mission. 

Fuck. He's been in love with you this whole time, hasn't he? Oh, you have got to be kidding. This was probably the only chance he had at something close to normal in his life and he trampled over it like it was nothing. That's assuming it was even genuinely meant from your end to begin with. He still has his doubts all things considered. Either way, he can’t just sit in bed and wallow in his head all night. He needs some air. 

"What crawled up your shell and died?"

Great. He had hoped to get some peace and quiet. Not that this city knows the definition of either word but that isn’t the point. 

"Not now, Jones. I ain't in the mood."

Casey's head rolls against his shoulders and he sighs, "Hey, if this is to do with (Y/n) ignoring you, what do you expect? 'Can't just make someone cry and expect things to be okay after without an apology."

Raph's mask slowly descends and hoods over his eyes, those of which are now staring down the detective.

"Oh, shit. You didn't know?"

No. No, he did not. He really made you cry? Why would you-? Ah. Two things smack him up the head at this moment: you meant every word of what you admitted a month ago and he is an absolute asshole. Despite already living in the sewers, he feels like the scum of the Earth.

That's it. No more holding back. No more being chicken. He might have ruined his chance but he can at least try and make things right by you.

Donatello

Aloof. Absolutely aloof and utterly clueless to the fact that you were even trying to admit your feelings for him. Yet, the way that the whole situation plays out makes it seem as though he had denied you. His head is usually stuck in a book or on one of the many screens that litter his quarters. What can you really expect of him? Unfortunately, this isn’t something that comes to mind nor is taken into consideration when you attempt your casual proclamation. With his eyes glued to his computer, his inattentiveness could only be read as uninterest to which you find it’s probably best to withdraw yourself. 

In the weeks to come, it still doesn't even occur to him that you were confessing. The only thing that dawns on him from your weirdly abrupt absence is how strange it feels without you around. You still engage in your regular visits to the lair but are always elusive to his corner. Had he missed a memo? He can't quite place a finger on your change in behaviour. Then he realises just how much he enjoys and misses your presence. Even just how you'd pass by his little section of the lair and do something as small as asking him what he's working on. The small details should always get their chance in the spotlight but he managed to miss them when they were right there in front of him. When you were in front of him.

Subsequent to this steady progression of fluttering heart palpitations upon the thought of you and his drying throat when he tries to speak your way, he decides to take some action. At least, that’s the plan he has in his head. You hardly look his way, so he needs to find a way to gain your attention. There must be some way. With somewhat of an idea in mind, he dials a number through his computer and lets it ring. 

The other side of the line picks up and there’s a voice. “If this has anything to do with goons, aliens or whatever trouble you guys have gotten yourselves into, I don’t want any part of it.”

“Relax, Vern. This is something that entirely requires your expertise without life endangerment. I need to ask about women,” Donnie confirms, cutting right to the chase.

There’s a pause. "What-?” Another longer pause and then an inhale. “Can't you just ask one of your brothers or something?"

Yeah, right, because his family of sewer dwellers are so well-equipped for this matter. Even asking for Vern's aid is pushing the boat a little but it's better than nothing - a baseline structure of what to expect is all he needs. The internet would probably be more reliable but it doesn’t include that vital real-world experience.

"You engage in frequent courting. By all accounts, you're the only person I know who has enough field experience to give advice."

This might be giving Vern too much credit but this is a surefire way to get what he wants. Feeding a man's ego can accomplish many things. Call it manipulation of the circumstances if you will but no harm done. 

"You know what?” There’s a brightness in his tone, an uptilted cadence in Vern’s rhetorical question. Bingo. “You being the smart one has never been more accurate, Don. Alright, I'll help you."

The notes he takes are unfathomable but he wants to make sure that everything is thought out with careful precision. That's not even taking into account that he needs to muster the courage to ask you out in the first place.

Michelangelo

One would think that this guy would be jumping with unparalleled joy to have someone confess their feelings for him but he's got eyes for someone else. April O'Neil is his one true babycake, his angel face, the first love he had ever known. He turns you down in the friendly way one would expect him to if not a little cocky. Who wouldn't want a piece of the MC Mikey? There aren’t any hard feelings though, right?

Well, no but the sting that follows is still too much for you to handle. Too much in fact that you decide it's best to recoil into a shell of your own and spend less time with the loveable terrapin. Such a shame as well considering you're missing out on your regular gaming sessions together. It probably sucks big time to be rejected but he meant no harm by it. He thought you could still hang out as you normally would. Perhaps you just needed some time. That’s what he reckoned until the days turned to weeks and those weeks to almost two months. 

He’s subjected to playing bystander when you hang out with his family, barely getting a chance to have a word with you alone. If this treatment is good for anything, it gives him a chance to spectate and watch how you interact with those around you rather than directly with him. He recognises how much he adores that sparkle in your eyes, the playfulness of your tone when you crack out jokes with his brothers, how you light up the entire lair when you make your presence known. There is this unshakable spirit within you that he somehow never noticed until a few days prior when you took the liberty of playing an incredibly bold practical joke at Casey's expense. Man, this turtle's heart sored higher than it ever has before, which is saying something considering he had to jump out of a plane once.

Well, colour him surprised. He was so sure of himself that New York's favourite journalist was the only one for him but it seems he was wrong. Oh, man. He's feeling pretty bad now. He can surely make up for what happened though, right? Hopefully. There's only one way of finding out but he has one thing he needs to do first before talking to you.

"I'm sorry, angel face. My sights have been led astray. My loyalty shouldn’t be doubted but it’s for someone else now.” 

The way Mikey is knelt down, head lowered with April’s hands in his own is a perplexing sight if not curiously amusing. His feelings and the pronounced “dibs” on the reporter have been no secret but his recent infatuation with you hasn’t been much of a secret either. Not to her anyway but she likes to think she’s good at picking up on these things. 

“Just know that you'll always have a special place in my heart,” he finishes, ending the overly dramatised display by holding a fist to his chest. 

"Considerate as always." Her expression is somewhere between humoured and endeared, fighting the shake of her head at how adorably ridiculous this turtle can be. "Thanks, Mikey."

Now that's out of the way, he can go into this with a clear head. Although, the only thing really going into this is going to be all of his heart.

[strawberrystepmom]

cw body image discussion. self ship coded. f!reader is feeling insecure and gojo is there to help work through the blues. he's mildly possessive and reader is really down on themselves. reader and gojo are in a semi established relationship (aka idiots in love). wc 1.6k

divider thanks to @/cafekitsune as always

The third time you pull a blouse over your head with a huff and toss it to the ground below your feet is when Satoru finally realizes that something is not right with you today. 

It wasn’t the instant frown upon waking up that alerted him, in fact that’s kind of just normal so he ignored it, but he has noticed you’ve been wound tight from the moment your eyes have opened. Your shoulders are hunched, he’s worried you’re going to give yourself a headache with all that scowling, your coffee sits on the nightstand getting cold while you glare at your reflection in the full length mirror against the wall.

Flipping onto his stomach and stretching horizontally across your bed, he appraises you where you stand. Even grouchier than usual, you’re dazzling. You’re wearing nothing but your least sexy nude colored bra and high waisted black trousers, bare feet stomping across the wooden floor as you rush back and forth from the closet back to the mirror.

He knows what’s happening and that he has never quite been good at stopping it but he wants to try, if only to make you smile at his failed attempt at comfort. You know him well enough to know that there’s meaning beneath his flippant words and veneer, something that saves him from a lot of trouble on any given day.

“Princess?”

His little nickname captures your attention and you shift from glancing in the mirror to him for just a moment, eyes narrowing slightly when you take in his relaxed posture. It must be nice to be him - ever the bored boy king watching the rest of us mortals folly. Raising your brows, you fold your arms over your chest defensively and stare at him.

He knows this defensive position better than anyone ever could. You’re internally wounding yourself and curling into your own torso, covering where it hurts the worst with your arms. Your heart breaks and he can see it on your face, eyes still narrowed and shoulders rounded forward. Trying to make yourself smaller, broken into pieces, something you feel will make you more palatable.

He hates it but he knows you don’t do it on purpose. You spend a lot of your time lifting others up and it’s easy to forget yourself in the fray. He sees it as his responsibility to step for you when you can’t do it for yourself and he cannot imagine allowing anyone else to ever do so.

He’s yours, in name, in body, in heart, and it’s his job to remind you of how perfect you are even when you forget. 

“C’mere,” he wags his head, motioning for you to join him on the bed while he pats the spot next to him. You sniff unenthusiastically and shuffle to the side of the bed, sitting and letting your legs hang off the edge of it. You don’t want to join him in his all too comfortable state but you realize quickly you are going to be left with no choice when he sets his head on your thigh and wraps his arms around your waist.

You feel yourself soften when you look down at him, all white lashes and big eyes and hair over his forehead as boyish as you remember it being when you were 16 and he was 17 and he laid his head in your lap just like this. It feels like a lifetime ago, years and tears that have passed, but part of you even knew then that it would end up just like this for the two of you despite the constant denial of those feelings. 

Even still, you deny his affection for you out of some strange attempt to hurt yourself rather than him. It makes no sense and you sigh. How anyone puts up with you is truly a mystery yet here the one person who puts up with you the most sits, cloudless sky eyes searching you for answers. He foolishly believes he may yet solve you someday.

Unfolding your arms, you reach out and pet the strands away from his face. Remembering you’re supposed to be having a fit, you frown and he smiles up at you. It feels like the sun moving in from around a cloud and you chuckle.

“You gonna make it?” He asks and you know what he means. 

What do you need from me? How can I make this better?

If asked, he’d swear you’re the only one who actually listens to what he’s saying instead of picking out what you want to hear. If someone were to ask you, you think you’d say the same about him. Nobody understands you the way he does, a fact you used to resent but now welcome with open arms. Isn’t the core of being loved just being understood at the end of the day?

You think for a moment before flopping backward on the bed, his head still in your lap and his arms still looped around your waist. Satoru shifts slightly, pulling one arm out from under you and using it to gently pet your cheek. 

“Probably not,” you finally respond and he looks across your body at your face and smiles, shaking his head and rubbing his freshly shaven cheek over your pants.

“I’m ugly, I’m stupid, I’m the butt of every joke,” you lament, gaze shifting directly to the ceiling to keep from looking at him while your eyes mist over with tears. Speaking the things you think about yourself only makes them feel more true but he doesn’t let you lament for long, unlooping his other arm from your waist and grabbing your hand.

He sits up and you look up at him. He looms the way a god does and he looks just like one, something that makes you rush to try and cover yourself up. It’s a pity he wastes his time with you, meant for something far better than hanging out with you. You feel a tear slide down your cheek and sniff, covering your face with your forearm.

“None of that is true and you know it.”

He remains hovering over you, backlit by the sunlight in your bedroom, but you refuse to look directly at him and settle for gazing through the tiniest crack in your vision that your forearm isn’t covering. 

“Everyone loves you so much it makes me feel jealous sometimes.”

Despite your sadness, you giggle. He’s so funny sometimes that you wonder if it’s intentional or not.

“There’s no reason to. People are just being nice.”

He scoffs and before you can blink, he’s on his knees and sliding his oversized form across the bed. Straddling your hips, settling either of his thighs on the side of yours, you groan and let your arm flop at your side. He isn’t putting his full weight on you but you sniff and make a face anyway. You’re still only partially dressed and he licks his lips at the sight, soft skin warmed by sunlight.

“Do you know how many threats I’ve had to make to keep people away from you?”

Shaking your head, hair dragging across the blanket beneath your body, you wonder if he means it. He has alluded to this exact scenario many times in jest but you always assumed it was just that - a joke. A little chuckle shared between the two of you.

“I’m not joking,” he replies seriously, eyes giving him away. “You’re not just liked you’re desired, pretty girl.”

Your cheeks heat and your belly stirs despite how the rest of you feels. Shifting your head so that you’re no longer looking at him, he reaches down and cups your cheek with the same gentleness he always does but guides your face back in his direction. His thumb caresses the soft round and you bite back another smile.

“I’ll keep doing it, too,” he mutters with a grin and a nod and you raise your brows. You don’t really care that other people desire you, knowing that the issue with how you feel lies solely within your own heart, but it’s nothing less than sexy that he insists on throwing his weight around in his longstanding mission to make you love him as much as he loves you.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers and you smile, leaning into his touch despite all of your previous attempts to shrug it off. “The smartest person I know, brave, dependable…”

He trails off and leans over you, stopping himself with his forearm on the bed and kisses your forehead. 

“I could go on forever but I don’t want to make you later than you’re already going to be after four outfit changes,” he offers and you laugh. A real one. The kind of laugh that makes a big smile stretch across your face and he places his thumb in the divot of your dimple as you do.

“You’re right.”

He beams, pressing his thumb so deeply you feel the inside of your cheek against your teeth. 

“Obviously.”

The rebuttal only makes you laugh harder and you kick your legs out beneath him, trying to shove him off of you.

“Get off, I’m gonna be late,” you warn and now he plants some of his weight over your hips, both big hands cupping your face as he repeatedly dots your face and cheeks with kisses.

“Nope, I’m gonna make you even more late and you’re just gonna have to live with it.”

And live with it you will as his lips travel from the round of your cheek and tip of your nose to your own lips, tongue brushing against the seam insistently.

[writingoddess1125]

First of all I wanna say I hope both sides of ur pillow are cold at night, your charger works at every angle and you never stub your toe 🛐🛐🛐💞💌💌🥺🥺 Idk if you take requests, apologies of you don't, but I would like to ask if you would make one of those NSFW Alphabets with Shanks? Thank you for getting me through this week with your fics 🙏🏻 I have become a Mihawk girlie now too because of your work 😩

I'm so glad you you love the fics!! And thank you for the kindness towards me you are truly a Saint to wish for my pillow to be cold 🙏

Welcome to the Mihawk club BTW ;3

But I Gotcha Darling!

N$FW Alphabet:

Shanks Edition!

A= Aftercare (what they’re like after the act)

Very loving, he is kind and has a strong sense of responsibility for his S/O. He will clean them up, get them anything they need and cuddles too.

B= Body part (favorite body part their own or their lovers)

Truthfully he loves his hair, it's a odd relationship since its such a unique feature of his so it draws too much attention. But also loves it since it's a heavy part of his identity.

Their back weirdly enough, the curve of their form and dip of their hips. He will guide his fingertips down their back and admire it.

C= Cum (anything that has to do with it)

Shanks can be a bit messy, he will cum on the nearest surface of skin of his S/O. But his favorite is inside-

D= Dirty secret (Pretty self explanatory)

He and Buggy used to have a physical thing for a while. It was more experimental and gave him creative ideas for sex, however he is very transparent with his S/O about it and open to any questions.

E= Experience (do they know what they’re doing)

This man has a open book of experiences, having done and seen a lot of things in his day! He knows every way to make someone squirm moan and more.

F= Favorite position

The Face-Off is his favorite position. Seated and with his S/O on his lap facing him while they ride him.

G= Goofy (how serious are they)

He isn't the most serious especially with intimate moments in bed. He feels like it's a moment for him to be vulnerable and open. Will giggle with them and kiss their cheeks, drawing chuckles from his S/O

H= Hair (grooming habits)

Is a bit lazy with his own grooming habits, he will occasionally give himself a trim up but is more okay with a all natural look. Defiently has the Nickname of Fire Bush 🔥

I= Intimacy (in the moment romantic or rough/dirty)

Shanks is very romantic, he can get rough but he is Defiently the type to differ in Sex Vs. Love Making and with his S/O it's always lovemaking.

J= Jack off (do they masturbate and how often)

Not as often, he used to in the past but finds he'd rather do other things. Especially since he has a S/O so it's unnecessary.

K= Kink (kinks what they like possibly unusual)

He has two big kinks he loves. He does have a mild breeding kink, he loved the idea of 'Breeding' his so in any means and knowing it was him who did it.

His second biggest Kink a Praise Kink and he is open to switching in this role as he loves to be praised or give it.

L= Location (where they like to get it on)

He likes his own place in terms of Sex or a good Hotel. He isn't one to judt fuck anywhere and even for Quickies he has his favorite spots pre-picked out.

M= Motivation (things that makes them tick/turn ons)

Truthfully his S/O is his biggest turn on- them just walking around will be enough to get him worked up.

N= No (turnoffs or absolutely won’t do)

Degradation is a turn off for him, as well as amputation kinks. He finds both I credibly disturbing and will immediately not be interested.

O= Oral (receiving or giving and how skillful they are)

He is a giver, while he does love some good oral he prefers to give. He likes the feeling of being inbetween his S/O's legs and feeling their reactions.

P= Pace (how fast they are and how long they last in bed)

He keeps a pretty even pace, he can be pretty quick in hip movement. However in terms of length in bed he can last quite a while.

Q= Quickie (do they prefer fast and hard)

He does enjoy a good Quickie. However it's only if that is the only option he likes something more sensual if it's available but a has hard fuck is never a issue

R= Risk (do they like to try new things)

Hell yeah, he's always willing to try new things! If he hasn't done it already he will give it a go.

S= Stamina (how many times they can go and how long each round lasts)

Shanks has fairly high Stamina and can last at 20 minute goes with at least 3 rounds in him.

T= Toys (are they game for using sex toys on themselves or lovers)

Shanks down for toys, is willing to use them on his S/O or let them be used against himself.

U= Unfair (how do they tease or do they enjoy suspense themselves)

Shanks is a walking tease, yes he loves romantic and even pacing in terms of sex but he LOVES to take his time to watch his S/O come undone. The look on their faces as they moan and desperately get closer to their climax is so hot to him.

V= Volume (are they loud, what sounds, and do they talk)

From grunts, gentle moans and words of Praise Shanks can be quite vocal. He likes to say sweet things to his S/O if he's on top.

W= Wild card (random sincannon of any sort)

He has been pegged and did not mind it. While isn't his most favorite of things it was interesting at the time and if his S/O is interested he will be down for another round with the plastic.

X= X-ray (what’s down below in dem pants)

Shanks is very blessed- 9.5in easy, and let's say he's more of s grower then a show-er in these parts 😉

Y= Yearning (sexdrive level)

While he is incredibly flirtatious he doesn't have the highest of sex drives. Defiently very relaxed and will be down if his parter is. However naturally is a twice a week kind of man.

Z= Zzzz (do they sleep after if so how quickly after)

Shanks will stay up for a bit, making sure they fall asleep and just admire his S/Os form. Run his hand through their hair and make sure they're comforble

[saintsenara]

I feel like in the Sirius/Severus fic I’ve come across the roles often tend to be quite gendered with Sirius either being jocky dom or service top vibes paired with a subby Snape who’s either cock hungry or somehow fragile or a bossy power bottom y Snape. Or the opposite with Snape as dominant and Sirius submissive, usually those ones lean quite into BDSM power exchange element or like caretaker/pet vibes. I’ve enjoyed both and also the rare few I’ve seen where they aren’t written so gendered and both enjoy a range of roles both literally position wise and power dynamic wise.

Wondering what your take is on the dynamic that best fits them in your mind? Obviously the inherent power struggle between them in canon lends itself to power dynamics being part of their chemistry but I can’t decide where I fall on thinking which side of the dynamic they each best fit, or if one where they switch is more in character

thank you very much for the ask, anon!

i don't have a fixed preference for the sexual dynamics in the snack i read - and i've definitely noticed the vibes you mention - but how sirius and snape would act in the bedroom is a question i've had to ponder quite a lot recently, since i'm writing some snack - the war of the roses - myself...

generally, i don't go in for a strict top/bottom division - so when it comes to who's putting what where, my view is that they'll switch.

when it comes to the power dynamic between the two, and the emotional response the two have to sex, i have more to say...

i generally see snape as somebody who's inclined to consider themselves to be inferior to their partner - and, as his canonical power dynamic with both dumbledore and voldemort attests, to think of himself as someone whose role is to serve - but not as someone who is submissive.

by which i mean, i think that snape would view his position in the dynamic as one of supplication, worship, offering, service. and so on. but that this would come without the consensual surrendering of control which defines a classic dom/sub relationship - and also without the consensual surrendering to being cared for which defines a caretaker/pet dynamic. snape canonically prizes his ability to deal with things on his own. i don't think he's someone who wants to be looked after.

what he does want, instead, is to be acknowledged by his partner as unworthy [a sinner who can never atone for what he has done] and yet loved anyway.

but - of course - this desire lurks behind a layer of self-loathing as thick as the earth's crust. and so i do think - at first - snape would be likely to give the impression that he was inclined to be standoffish - and, indeed, cruel - in bed. no negotiation, no aftercare, no acknowledgement that sirius is also involved... just a mess all around.

sirius, too, is someone who i think positions themselves as the worshipper in a god/worshipper dynamic. i particularly think this because i believe that unrequited prongsfoot is canon - sirius' devotion to james, especially after james' death, is quasi-religious. he too thinks of himself as a sinner unable to atone for his sins [as he tells harry in prisoner of azkaban, he thinks of himself as directly responsible for james' death], unworthy of being truly loved.

sirius' self-loathing canonically comes with a willingness to suffer. so, when snape lashes out... he's going to end up taking it.

that they're narrative mirrors is why i love snack as a pairing - and i like the way that this can be taken in any direction when it comes to the sexual dynamic between the two. egregious cruelty in an attempt to drive the other person away which gradually gives way to something tender, allowing each "worshipper" to realise that the other sees him as the "god"? sign me up.

the question i'd like to see more snack authors wrestle with, though? how much experience the two have.

i'll confess now that i never vibe with the characterisation of sirius - whatever his orientation is written as being - which portrays him as sexually [and romantically - i don't think the man's ever been on a real date either] experienced prior to going to azkaban.

this is almost entirely because of the unrequited prongsfoot thing - sirius strikes me as the sort of person who would endure his love for james in solemn silence, rather than seeing other people in an attempt to get over him - but i also think that, as much as i love the common fanon that the wizarding world is a queer utopia, it's going to be because someone from sirius' background would have a lot of extremely thorny feelings about being interested in men.

[including the fear that james would detest him for his sexuality. something i've done in the war of the roses is write james as someone who isn't a bigot, per se, but who - like many teenage boys - nonetheless assumes that his best mate is heterosexual, only discusses sex and sexuality with him with this assumption in mind, and makes plenty of casually homophobic remarks (stereotypes about behaviour or hobbies or appearance, etc.) which he never realises terrify sirius. if sirius ever came out to him, james would - of course - be nothing short of accepting. but sirius never feels confident enough to find this out.]

snape, too, was undoubtedly raised in a homophobic family - and he is canonically subjected to bullying which has a homophobic undertone - but he's someone who i imagine would embrace his queerness as a sort of "fuck you" to the world.

[not least because the masculinity of many of the death eaters - and voldemort's masculinity in particular, especially since, in snape's story, he serves a parallel role to dumbledore - is reasonably non-normative. voldemort is extremely easy to read as queer - and lucius malfoy's relationship with snape can also be read as having some sort of homoerotic undertone.]

snape is someone who - unlike sirius - has the opportunity to explore his sexuality after 1981 [even with the shadow of the aids crisis - which provides a really interesting context through which to examine snape's attitude to sexuality, pleasure, nihilism, and death], and so i really like mixing the idea that snape is the more experienced of the two in with the supplicatory dynamic described above.

[inhonoredglory]

Hey, I reaaally love all your meta analysis, especially the one on Aziraphale's morality. You truely have a wonderful writing style! And you expressed the feelings I had about the S2 finale I couldn't put into words and had me in tears again. I never really believed in the coffee theory (although a part of me hoped for it since it would be way less painful). But there is one thing I can't wrap my head around. The coffee theory is partly supported by the final scene of Aziraphale in the elevator and his creepy smile. Even when he looks forward to his new position and is convinced he does the right thing, I can't believe he wouldn't smile like that (and Michael Sheen is to talented for it being am accident). He still lost his soulmate Crowley, he still had to give up the life he loved so dearly and we know how much he struggled with that in the first place talking to Metatron. So why this smile, which aside from that, really did not look like him? I fear, that his memories were wiped out in this elevator. But since you have so a great understanding of Aziraphale's character, I would like to know your theories about that? Thanks a lot!!

(In response to my meta on why Aziraphale had to go to Heaven)

Thank you so much for your kind words, @sabotage-on-mercury (truly means the world to me). Honestly, the creepy smile was one part of the ending I couldn't quite put my finger on either, until someone pointed out on a Twitter response to my meta:

The reason why its scary is bc azi is becoming properly angry at the system and is 101% determined to set things right (Source)

In season 1, Aziraphale was determined not to kill anyone to stop the Apocalypse. He wouldn't even tell Crowley where the Antichrist was, because Crowley's only solution was to kill him.

And because Crowley consistently didn't have any ideas ("not one single better idea??"), Aziraphale took it on himself to pursue the only option left––to ask God to intervene and stop both Heaven and Hell from destroying Earth. Therefore, Aziraphale had to keep the integrity of his angel status by distancing himself from Crowley, while the world was still in danger.

Despite this dedication avoid bloodshed, when God didn't have an answer, Aziraphale went against one of his core beliefs to help save the world. He was willing to murder a child.

For Aziraphale, that takes guts. And (seeing how he reacted at the end of the Job minisode), I wonder that if he had killed Adam Young, Aziraphale would have checked himself into Hell.

Going to Heaven for Aziraphale is ultimately a conscious choice, one that he is clearly afraid of. We see him constantly steeling himself again the Metatron in the end, covering his fear and hurt from losing Crowley with a placid smile and a flippant attitude. He's wearing so many masks, to Crowley, to himself, to the Metatron...

All season we've seen him playing roles (detective, magician, doctor, landlord). But the final role is warrior. Going up that elevator, we first see Aziraphale's eyes searching, worried, panicking, but unable to show it because he's not in a safe space. He swallows, blinks, he's breathing hard (you can see his entire shoulders rise and fall).

But as he goes up, his expression steels. He's quite literally putting on a mask (to himself): a vengeful, hardened expression of pure anger and rage (to drown out the fear and uncertainty he so clearly still has).

Michael Sheen conveying contained anger in both Good Omens and Masters of Sex (gif by @julielilac)

Cuz this isn't just him scrambling to kill a kid, this is him walking calmly and knowingly into sacrificing everything he loves most (Crowley, the bookshop, his entire life on earth) to create a world that will always be safe for him and Crowley and humanity for the rest of time. Where he would have to go up against the most powerful angels, the Metatron, and God Themself to change things. He can't be the kind, sweet angel he was on Earth. That won't cut it in Heaven if he wants to make a difference in any real way.

He wanted to do it with Crowley, with the love and support and strength of his demon. But without him, Aziraphale has to channel something else to keep his resolve afloat.

Something he had when he was a warrior, fighting on the front lines of a battle between Heaven and Hell, when he very likely led a platoon into divine fields of bloodshed before the earth was born. When he was an avenging angel.

I haven’t done this since the Great War.

It was a time and an identity he had chosen to leave behind, because it wasn't the kind of angel he was anymore ("I'm not fighting in any war!"). In this context, you can read Aziraphale's passionate unwillingness to take a life (his pacifism) directly into his past experience as a warrior. It is often the veterans of terrible wars who are the most earnest advocates for peace. (And especially in Britain and Europe, where the violence of the world wars is still such a powerful and painful national memory.)

As he goes up the elevator, he's breathing so hard we can hear it mirrored in the soundtrack, and he is so hyperfocused on steeling himself that he doesn't even care that the Metatron is watching him. He doesn't rest until he's psyched himself into that warrior mindset necessary to carry out this mission entirely by himself, to be both the moral advocate and the uncompromising leader of angels who had intimidated him his entire life. To demand respect and to talk to the very face of God and tell Them they are Wrong.

(Please read this Neil-approved meta for further thoughts on God and Aziraphale.)

That creepy smile is clearly not there because Aziraphale is happy to fall into a toxic parent's false love. There's no comfort or wistful nostalgia in that face. There's no "it'll be so much nicer" in that smile. It's not a happy smile. It's an I'm-gonna-fuck-shit-up smile.

Because it's a warrior's smile before they go into battle, before they put on that armor and, for a while, become something they're not in the name of some greater good. He's fucking furious and it's downright frightening.

Because I have no doubt that the angel Aziraphale we get in Season 3 is the angel Aziraphale who can say this:

He's not there yet in the TV show. But this bravery, this anger, this flaming rage is how it starts.

Or as he's described in the book when Aziraphale mysteriously does away with the local mafia:

Just because you’re an angel doesn’t mean you have to be a fool.

[deerspherestudios]

Hey! I hope you have a good day without any problems and worries! 💕💕💕 I recently took a test on the language of love and thought about Mychael. What is his love language? (my style of love is touching, so he wouldn't be able to escape from my embrace HAHA)

Aww I love talking about the 5 love languages!! This is such a sweet ask <3 This is assuming MC and Mychael have been friends/lovers for a while; here we go!

•┈••♡❤ Mychael's Love Language(s) ❤♡••┈•

When you're on the receiving end; Offering Gifts 🎁💖

He's never had anyone be around as long as you have; he's kinda new to the gifting thing but does so with a lot of enthusiasm!!

Whether it's something he made or found, knowing he chose it for you is what makes it soso special.

He just loves the idea of being able to give something that was a part of himself and insert it into your life if that makes sense.

He also loves doing it because he believes you deserve to have nice things with all his heart :-)!

If he's not sure what to gift you he'd rely on pretty little knickknacks he thinks you'd like but still be on the safe side; flowers, jewelry, decorations and accessories.

But if he does figure out your interests he'd do his best to accommodate! Books, toys, tools and clothes... he has his means of getting stuff he can't make himself.

The idea of you keeping his gifts as a sign of friendship/love makes him really happy!!

Lowkey if he sees you using/wearing/displaying a gift he gave in the past he'd be purring non-stop.

When he's on the receiving end; Words of Affirmation 💬💕

We know how he feels about his physical appearance so this is a no-brainer. His self-esteem isn't the best :'-)

Being alone/isolated as he is, he might confuse physical affection but nothing is more clear to him than words straight from your mouth how much you mean to him <3

At first he wonders if you truly mean what you say when you talk so positively about him, but then he slowly starts to believe it.

Do not underestimate the impact of one (1) compliment as simple as "You look good today, Mychael." He'd remember it for at least a week.

It's a bit of a guessing game to figure out what gets him the best. If you praise his skill at something his response would be, "Oh I guess I got good at it. Thanks, firefly :-)" but if you praise his looks and mannerisms you've hit the jackpot.

Blushing, stuttering, avoiding your gaze level of embarrassment.

If you're really close friends or basically dating, he will absolutely ask for your opinion on how you feel about him from time to time, just to get reassurance from you.

Overall nothing gets him better than just hearing positive remarks from a loving source aka you :-) <3

[foibles-fables]

I know there’s a lot of turmoil in the Horizon fandom right now  but I just wanted to say that you remain one of the coolest people I have ever known in this fandom. You make amazing content and support so many WLW ships. You’re always up for crazy Theories and headcanons, and are kind to anonymous commenters,  even when they badly jumble their words and sound like they’re being mean, which I’ve definitely done by mistake but you understood my true intent, even before I clarified. Thank you for all you do in this space, you’re an amazing person that still makes me enjoy this game, even with the highs and lows of HFW’s writing and the recent shipping chaos. Please know your works have made me smile so much through the years and your posts always brighten my feed. Thanks for everything!

You know what? Usually I reply to these kinds of asks with a hilariously zany meme and some earnest capslocked gratitude. But I want to be super, super serious and genuine with my appreciation for this one. It's so flattering and fulfilling to hear you say this. Honestly, tearing up a little. I always strive to be a fount of positivity and enthusiasm about the things I enjoy, even when being positive is incredibly difficult (see: immediately post-HFW, lmao). So it means so much to me to hear that opinion reflected back. So thank you, truly, from the very bottom of my heart. <3 <3 <3

I do wanna talk about the current unsteadiness in the fandom. No matter what, Burning Shores has shown us one very, very important thing: Horus terrifying protect Gildun with our lives Aloy is beautifully, canonically, fantastically queer. This is the central takeaway and something to fuckin' celebrate, everyone. Representation matters--and for sure, unabashed representation like this is so absolutely crucial in today's world. Guerrilla has done an incredible thing and it's an utter amazement to have received it.

But beyond that: nothing else has changed. We absolutely do not need to be engaging in bickering and discourse. Everyone is still entitled to their headcanons and (respectfully-stated!) opinions. No ships have been sunk. There is a place in this fandom for everyone. I don't want to start having to avoid bitterness in this space that's given me such solace and joy and community over the last few years. That's no way for a group of people to share in the enjoyment of something.

Everything is still SO fresh and new, but it’s high time to begin evaluating our responses—especially with GG's quiet announcement of the third game being in development. Let’s shape up in support of our series and carry love and light forward, being enthusiastic about our favorite parts and letting others have their joy as well.

[chairteeth]

Fun fact, Nemu is a sadist

So you see Papa I know I’m gonna need screenshots for this one but HEAR ME OUT. I have actual arguments for this. There’s gonna be a lot of screenshots though, because I feel like in this case it’s a bit more overt once you look at it through this lens. This isn’t so much an essay as something similar to that time I went on a short rant about how Touka acts like a cat but here you go.

Editing Note: The Ao3 version of this essay is superior, I recommend it more than the post.

I’m gonna be very blunt. Nemu is a sadist. An extremely picky sadist that goes from mild to borderline disturbing, but a sadist nonetheless. Girlie has hella concerning moments. There’s the part about enjoying seeing people in pain, yes, particularly pain caused by her (directly or indirectly), but it’s more complex than that. It’s relishing one’s power over others. It’s enjoying when others are humiliated. Enjoying putting people in messed up positions and situations, watching or forcing them to hurt themselves or their loved ones, Sisyphean tasks, etc. There’s pretty terrifying potential to what she would be capable of if encouraged, considering her extensive historical and literary knowledge (looking at you, Madness of Hercules Shizuka. If you know you know).

As for the reasons, well, it makes sense with her background and as a coping mechanism, a way to vent. Sadism most often originates from feeling powerless in daily life, general powerlessness/lack of power even over the self, and repressed anger/frustration, so it tracks with what we know about Nemu. And yes, this happens since childhood. I’m gonna explain my arguments for the intense ‘Nemu is a sadist’ interpretation I have, don’t you worry, and there will be screenshots galore for once!

Let’s start with the mildest stuff. Which is actually Touka-related. Nemu really enjoys getting a reaction out of Touka, mainly earlier in their relationship (when she wasn’t Irreversibly Whipped)—though bits of it remain. This manifests in all of the teasing and the purposeful “humiliation” through things like games (the card game scene comes to mind). It’s easy too, because Touka is so extremely reactive. Here’s a very old example of this much milder manifestation, the card game scene in question:

Touka then starts crying (you can see the tears) because she’d mapped out the entire game and memorized Nemu’s cards and Nemu truly had no reason to pull this move. Leading to this response from Nemu:

Going to another side of things, the funny (/s) humiliation uwasa should not be overlooked. I know I haven’t posted my document where I hyperoveranalyze what each and every one of Nemu’s uwasa means (because it is incredibly disturbing in this raw form), HOWEVER, the Rumor of the Cemetery Banquet Feast is just one of multiple rumors that adds to this specific topic. And also uh the Fashion Monster. There are many, many things that I can gleam from the latter existing in the first place, but it’s described as:

“A Rumor that appears before confident, dressed up girls. It drags its victims into an alley, and if the Rumor isn’t told it looks stylish, it will strip off the victim’s clothes.”

Thank you Nemu, thank you so much. I don’t think I have to say anything for you to see why this applies to the sadist thing. As for the Rumor of the Cemetery Banquet Feast:

“My, have you heard? Who’d you hear it from? The Cemetery Banquet, and the rumor thereof! Fated rivals, arguing friends– if you want everyone to get along, then this Rumor is for you! Anyone who reads its invitation will be guided to the pre-banquet proving grounds. If– and only if– you can make the banquet lively, then you pass! And you’ll be invited up to Paradise, complete with kindly parting words. But if you plan to participate, you’d better take great care! If you fall short of proving yourself, you’ll literally fall into the underworld, to boot. It’s a rumor that ALL of the temple’s supporters are talking about. C’mon now, let’s liven things up!”

And the way the event goes is… Well. 

The Rumor greets its “attendees” in a kind, heavenly voice, casually “forgives” (brushes off) their attempts to break its rules, and gives gentle encouragement (plus painfully-gentle critique) as they resort to performing various party tricks to satisfy it. Once they satisfy the Rumor by setting aside both their pride and their mutual animosities, it escorts them to the top of its pagoda in a giant, golden hand… where they literally pass on to the afterlife.

Thank you Nemu, thank you so much. I think you see where I’m coming from here. As for some of the other things I mentioned at the start, well, there’s this part of Arc 1 Chapter 8:

She truly does speak in the cultiest possible way. Her dialogue is far more cult leader-like than Alina's or Touka's. There's also this part:

Doesn’t she look quite pleased… These are pretty much one after another. But okay fine, here’s a couple from Chapter 9:

Really. Really look at this through the sadism lens. She also giggles while telling the others that they’ve reached their limit right after Kanagi and especially Tsuruno expresses feeling sick and heavy and in pain. Which… is a worse reaction than Touka’s, that’s for sure. What’s fascinating is that in her MGS, Nemu seems to care the most about the Feathers.

As for my final example, I’m just gonna leave a bunch of screenshots from Uwasa Tsuruno’s MGS here. Pay attention to the way Nemu speaks to Tsuruno and the words she chooses to use (it'd be a lot more obvious if Nemu was older than Tsuruno probably):

So in closing. Nemu Hiiragi is a sadist. Funny venting mechanism you’ve got right there, I sure hope it won’t lead to anything more questionable than you’ve already done. Good luck with your wife, Touka, have fun.

[vegasandhishedgehog]

Ace-Coded Akk

Thanks to the conversation I had with @saladbroth, I decided this discussion was really important to me. I will start by saying that however canon plays out, there's a lot to be said about the portrayal of Akk and his reaction to sex, romance, and queerness in general. This is merely an interpretation and not an attempt to force an identity or erase what's intended for him. However, I'm an asexual and I will be wearing the ace goggles as is my wont to do.

Akk is a funny character in many ways, and it's really enjoyable watching him be so rigid yet so affected by Ayan's antics. It's truly comedic. He gets the biggest deer-in-the-headlights expression on his face that I have ever seen. He is so uncomfortable and so in denial that I can’t help but laugh. But looking at him from a serious angle reveals so many layers that prove he is not just a mindless bootlicker serving as a tool to be messed with. His struggle to rise from a humble background to become the head prefect of Suppalo plays a great part in who he is and what motivates him. In fact, it seems to be the thing he cares about most.

One scene that really points this out is the exchange below:

Akk doesn’t just say no, but he calls dating nonsense. Even while hiding his true feelings, calling romance nonsensical as a whole is a bit further than he needed to go, so why would he put it that way if it didn’t hold some truth? A good part of asexuality is having a complicated relationship with romance and dating. Regardless of one’s romantic attraction, navigating the dating scene especially in modern day is exhausting. This is tenfold for asexuals because of the expectations that come with pursuing a relationship. For now, Akk is a student and he is happy putting his energy into that instead.

Now, when asked that ultimate question, the show plays a short montage of Akk’s private moments with Ayan up to that point. I’ll talk more about that in a second, because it’s still relevant. Before Ayan came to the school, Akk has been comfortable being a student and not worrying about teen romances. He doesn’t even complain about not being able to attract anyone, which could’ve been an easy reply. However, if he had complained about this predicament, it would’ve likely invited his friends to offer him help finding a date. Akk has been with these friends throughout his time at school and this is their last year together, which means he knows that’s not what he should say.

Of course, part of the reason he gives that answer is because he’s still not willing to admit any feelings for Ayan. That’s too much to unpack. He can’t even be vague about it because then he’d simply get questioned even more, and the last thing Akk needs is to be pressured into saying something he neither wants to nor should for a student in his position.

And then we get this scene:

He is once again targeted with questions about his dating life. Namo wasn’t present during the discussion earlier, so poor Akk has to face these concepts again but now with Ayan present. He has another chance to say he just can’t get a girl to date him or that he’s focusing on school and dating will have to wait. But what does he repeat?

This is such loaded response. Because while Akk may not care about dating, there is something going on, there is someone he likes. It doesn’t help that Ayan is present for this conversation because his ears are perked up like a rabbits’ and enjoying every second of Akk’s rigid cover.

He doubles down anyway. This is not a topic he wants to discuss. I find it interesting in that he handles it so differently from Kan, who is in a similar situation. Kan leans into faking heterosexuality to feel safe. Akk could easily have done the same but that tactic doesn’t even occur to him. All he wants is to be a good student and do his job and he’d like nothing to get in the way of that.

Kan, I love you sweetie, but you really could have just said nothing. This was a step too far. Sex and romance do not go hand in hand for everyone. I will forgive him a little for making this comment because again, Kan is trying to come off as some kind of chick magnet and is using the idea of possibly not being a virgin to insulate that persona. Still rude though.

I would just like to commend Wat for this comment. He already got his answer from Akk and accepted it, and doesn’t understand why Kan has joined Namo in prodding him further. Namo does not take a hint.

That question. That fucking question. Ignoring the smug little smirk on Ayan’s face, I just see Akk’s posture and feel my whole chest weigh down with a feeling I know very well. There’s a great deal of thoughts and emotions swirling through him right now and none of them are pleasant. He’s confronted with the knowledge that against all logic he likes Ayan, who is sitting beside him and has not been shy about flirting in the slightest. This means he’s gay, a fact about himself that has only recently surfaced and comes with a whole slew of baggage for a kid who has lived under traditional ideals his whole life. But he’s also never cared for dating and romance before so it should be easy to write off. Right?

Except for all of Akk’s oddities, he is aware that the social norm is to want sex and is around the age where teens typically experiment with it. And he hasn’t. Is it because he’s gay and repressed? That’s possible. He could lean into Kan’s method again and try to hint that he’s not a virgin, if that’s what he really wanted to defend.

What we see instead is that he gets so tense and uncomfortable that he makes an excuse to leave the situation altogether. Once the topic of sex, especially his experience (or lack of) with it, is brought up, he is out.

And we see a pattern in how he responds to Ayan’s advances. I love this gifset here because while it’s also humorous, it’s so relatable. What many would like to call sexual tension in this situation could also be seen as anything but. Akk’s slow reaction to Ayan undressing appears to be closer to confusion at what he’s watching up to the point where the zipper goes down and he realizes what it means.

I could reference shot after shot after gif after gif of Ayan posing a threat flirting messing with Akk and point emphatically at Akk’s face and body language, but I know that a great deal of what I’m seeing is very much my own interpretation. To me, Akk is the person who was raised with very strict rules and his beliefs are so influenced by them that he is happy not stepping outside those boundaries. He’s naive in that he believes he has a proper frame of reference to explain the world around him - or at least have enough explained to him to get him where he wants to go and he can ignore the rest because it doesn’t (shouldn’t) affect him. His asexuality is easy to deal with in that context because he doesn’t even have to be aware of it to move forward in his life. For all he knows, his lack of sexual attraction is simply an advantage, some lucky removal of distraction, so that he can focus on what’s more important to him.

Then Ayan comes along. He’s out of bounds both literally and figuratively. He awakens ideas and feelings in Akk that are scary and new and worst of all fucking inconvenient. The thoughts in his head stray from school work to that romantic nonsense everyone else has been bothering him about. Why should he care? Why should they care? What is Ayan really trying to do? So he pretends not to be interested and tries to convince himself that Ayan is a villain and that he doesn’t have to bother with wanting Ayan in any way if he gets rid of him. Anything so he doesn’t have to face the fact that not only does he experience attraction, but he’s homoromantic. Hence the montage mentioned earlier.

Akk as a gay-ace learning he is both at the same time is a huge event - one that will slowly make the world he knows crumble into dust around him. I don’t expect the show to tackle the nuances of the split attraction model or even ace identities, so I’ll be happy with whatever comes of his relationship with Ayan even if it does turn out to be more sexual. Sexuality is strange and fluid and ultimately very personal. There’s no right or wrong way to experience any given identity. But being able to relate with a character who shares characteristics of my own identity is what makes me love Akk so much, especially with such a lack of ace representation. First's portrayal of him is absolutely something to be commended. Golf has done an amazing job with this show so far and I look forward to everything they have prepared for us.

[shiawasekai]

13, 20, 29, and E for Nela?

Adding @herequeerexitentialfear because of the question in common! Thank you both!!! ❤️

13. What color do they think they look best in? Do they actually look best in that color?

Nela is painfully aware of which colors suit her best in theory. A perk of her parents working on it professionally and growing up hearing about these things. It's another matter if she agrees with them, which is a bit more... complicated.

In practice, she defaults to darker purples a lot, which is the colors she likes best on herself. It's not the color that suits her best (she would look better on greens or blues), but it doesn't look that bad either as long as it's the right shade. Her main outfit uses blues precisely because is her professional look as Commander and she made an active effort to look good on it.

20. If they were asked to explain the difference between romantic and platonic or familial love, how would they do so?

Now that's a tough one... and one I don't think she would be truly capable of answering through most of her life. Mostly because of lack of experience with romantic love. Both because she was young when she was kidnapped and because I've come to the conclusion that she is in the grey spectrum both sexually and romantically. It's fairly rare for her to feel attracted to anyone, in short.

After the game and having more experience with it? I think she would define platonic/familial love as comforting, a love that anchors you and protects you; romantic love, on the other side, is something that drives you forwards, that pushes you beyond your limits for its sake.

29. Do they usually live up to their own ideals?

In short? No.

She isn't going to outright betray her ideals, that's a lesson she learnt the hard way as a teenager. However, she is an overly rational person who knows sometimes things aren't feasible and who, being in a position of high responsibility, risks a lot if pursuing an ideal blindly. This means she often compromises and plays the long game, fighting to keep a balance between reality and the ideal.

She is at peace with that. After all, what are ideals if not something to strive towards? A reason to keep fighting for a better chance?.

However, I don't think she is at peace with herself on her personal life AT ALL.

Once the game starts, she spends years afterwards playing a part, hiding much of herself under a mask to cover how unwell she is. The parts she does show are the truth, but there is much she keeps zealously to herself. She realizes it's awful and she knows everyone is going to be hurt when the whole truth comes out, she just cannot function without it.

How can you say you live up to your ideals when living like that? Even if you're otherwise trying your best.

E. Are they someone you would get along with? Would they get along with you?

I think so, yes! I don't think we would be close, but I feel she would be someone I would find easy to talk to. We would, I think, absolutely get on each others' nerves, however. But it could be a perfectly nice casual friendship you talk with once in a while.

[bratshaws]

goodness gracious 5. brb x oc

a/n: oh this chapter................ yeah man. yeah......was fun to write uwu hope you guys like it!! a bit angstyyyy but nothing too much uwu

pairing: plus size!oc x rooster

chapters:

1/2/3/4

taglist: @mirandastuckinthe80s @roosterschanelslut @wiipes @lcahwriter @shrimping-for-all

-

Beatrice didn’t tell Shells that Rooster asked her for book recommendations, especially since he was reading Lord of the Rings which Shells knew how much that book meant to her. He couldn’t message her often, which she understood, but whenever he did it was for things like:

“Not gonna lie, the Hobbit second breakfast sounds even better in the book.”

“Who’s Tom Bombadil??? Is he an elf or something??”

“Why did they kept the coolest stuff out of the movies??”

It was sweet really, she couldn’t lie and say she didn’t look forward to Rooster’s commentaries often. It was… a good strange, something she never thought it’d happen, especially since she didn’t consider herself an interesting sort when it comes to certain things. 

She was a nerd, there was no shame in admitting it, but it wasn’t like she had a lot of people to share some of her thoughts with when it came to that. So to her, it was super cool and exciting to share things with her crush. She didn’t want to overstep, fearing her questioning could bother him in some way, so she preferred to listen and let him say what he wanted to and she’d share her own thoughts on it.

The two weeks went by fast, she heard no news from Rooster besides that he was safe as everyone else was. She was of course happy, but part of her wondered if their little chats would stop now that he was back home and his distractions would be something else but her constant talking. 

That’s why she accepted when Shells sent her a message for the two of them to have a little volleyball match down the beach. It was a bit odd from her friend to suddenly desire to play on a Friday afternoon knowing they’d be working on the Hard Deck hours later, but she didn’t think much of it, she’d like a little distraction. 

Volleyball was one of the things Beatrice liked, she used to be part of her high school volleyball team and then joined her college’s team, which is where she met Shells. Her team position often varied from libero to setter, but she was the one her coach always said to ‘kill’ the ball…meaning she would be the one responsible to hit the opponent area without them being able to do anything about it. 

She loved it, to think she joined the volleyball team at her mother’s insistence so she’d lose ‘a few pounds’. She never truly did, she actually gained muscle mass instead, remaining curvy in the end.

Bea walked up to the Hard Deck looking down at her phone, sending a quick message to the auto shop mechanic who was taking care of her car. He was a nice man and he told her that he’d do his best to fix her minty green ‘95 Subaru…well,it wasn’t her car. It was her oldest brother’s Guillermo’s former car that he gave to her when she turned 16. It was old, it had so many issues she lost count how many times it went to the auto shop.

Now, according to Mr.Guzman, the car’s life was nearing it’s end and it was honestly better for her to get a new one instead of keep fixing the Subaru. She knew he was right, but she was still working on furnishing her house…it’d take a while…and she was either coming to work by Uber or by catching rides with Shells. She sighed, thanked Mr.Guzman again and locked her phone, dropping her bag inside the employee room.

Since it’d only be her,Shells and Penny, she didn’t worry too much about her wardrobe: her oversized Van Halen t-shirt with soft olive colored running shorts and her Sailor Moon themed flip flops, her rosé gold hexagon sunglasses sat on top of her head. She twisted the left side of her shirt, rolling it up into a knot so it’d be like a crop top, giving her free room for movement. Bea pulled her hair into its trusty bun, walking to the edge of where the wooden boards of the Hard Deck turned into the seating area and the beach.

From a distance she saw Penny and Shells setting up the old volleyball net Penny would sometimes use if the patrons felt like playing games while still sober. “Hello!” Bea called, squinting her eyes before dropping the sunglasses to protect them, “You two need help?” she asks while kicking off her flip flops to leave them next to Shells’. 

“We got it!” Shells shouted triumphantly at the straight net, tossing her fists in the air. Shell’s outfit consisted of a black sports bra and runner shorts, much like the brunette was using, “Yes! Come on, Bea!” she turned around to grab the volleyball resting in the sand.

“Penny, are you going to set our score?” she asks when the dark haired woman walks up the sand.

“Hmhm, something like that.” Penny said, a little smile on her face. Bea furrowed her eyebrows, but shrugged, turning back to her friend with a grin.

“Hey!” she noticed how Shells’ was already on the side that usually was…hers. She usually stayed on the left side of the field, she was used to it,with her back to the empty area of the beach while Shells would face the bar “Um…why are we opposite?”

“Felt like doing a change.” Shells’ shrugged, cocking her hip with the ball pressed against it “You don’t mind it, do you?”

Something felt off, but Bea couldn’t pinpoint what it was “...no.” Her response was slow and cautious, her eyes squinting behind the sunglasses, “...are you up to something?”

“Who? Me?Nah.” Shells’ put her own sunglasses on, with a sly grin, “Why would I?”

“I dunno, you sound…suspicious.”

Shells’ didn’t reply, her smile didn’t change either, “Let’s play Schiavoni, you speak too much!” she didn’t give Bea enough time to reply before she jumped and spiked the ball to her side. Beatrice yelped in surprise, cupping her hands together to slam it over the net. 

“We didn’t stretch first!” the brunette shouted, the back and forth of the ball preventing her from actually stopping.

“We’ll be fine!”

“We’ll be at a bar standing up for almost six hours!” she grabs the ball when it comes to her this time, not throwing it “We need to stretch. You know it’s the right thing to do.”

Shells places her hands on her hips, purses her lips as if to hide a smile, “You know what? You are right. We should definitely stretch.” Bea furrowed her eyebrows at the sudden change of heart, holding the ball close to her body.

“What’s with you today?” she questioned, digging the heel of her foot in the sand to make a little hole to shove the ball in. Shells just shrugged, starting her stretch exercises. Beatrice blinked, then rolled her eyes choosing that today it was just a day for Shells to be weird. 

Meanwhile, the blonde woman lowered her sunglasses enough to send her seated aunt a look, Penny in response looked up to her left, grinned and raised her thumb positively without moving her head away.

Beatrice, having her back to the point of interest not far from where they were currently playing,  did not see what the aunt and niece duo did. Did not see the group of Naval officers just out there, enjoying a little game to celebrate their safe return.

                                                                              -

“HERE–OOF!” Payback’s words were cut short when Coyote came from behind him, tackling him to the sand as Hangman caught the ball instead. The tall man spat out particles of gritty soil, rushing to his feet with a loud laugh.

Pete Mitchell stood to the side, arms crossed, proud dad smile on his face, relieved yet another mission went without hiccups. These kids were good, a bit arrogant sometimes and needing to learn, but good. He watched them all through his own sunglasses, smiling at them just having fun for a job well done, they deserve nothing less.

By his feet was a blue and white cooler box that the ‘kids’ slapped the Navy logo sticker on top as a joke. Now it was their ‘official and government sanctioned cooler’. He noticed Rooster stepped back from the constant tackling, running a hand through his sweaty hair and making his way over to him. Pete kicked the cooler’s lid off, leaning down to grab a chilled water bottle, handing it over to Rooster when he was close enough. 

The young pilot nodded in thanks, his chest heaving with heavy breaths, before he lifted the bottle to his lips to drink a generous gulp. The two of them watched the group tackle back and forth, the football flying over their heads only to be grabbed by someone else. Pete breathed in the sea air, the warm summer winds hitting his skin. 

“So.” he began, “I’ve heard some rumors… that you have a girlfriend that works at the bar? Her name is Beatrice?”

Rooster paused from bringing the water bottle to his lips, tsking under his breath “Hangman can’t keep his fucking mouth shut.” he didn’t look towards Pete however, deciding that following a flock of seagulls was more interesting… but the silence was just because Mav was waiting for his reaction, which made him sigh tiredly, “She’s not my girlfriend.”

“...but?” Mav implied, tilting his body forward, “Phoenix said you were a helpful little ant a few weeks ago, helping her with her furniture.”

“Wasn’t only me.”

“But it was you who suggested it.”

Rooster huffed, placing his free hand on the curve of his hip, tapping his middle finger on the jutted hip bone, “She… needed help with her stuff.That’s all.” he paused, not seeing Mav’s eyes through the black lens but he felt it right there, the amused gaze directed at him.

“Is she pretty?”

“Mav.”

“What? I want to know if she’s pretty.” Maverick shrugs innocently, “You just have to say yes or no.”

Beatrice was pretty. The first thing Rooster noticed about her were her big green eyes with thick lashes, staring up at him before moving away from his gaze. She used very little makeup, so he could see how red her cheeks turned once he approached the bar. The very first time he actually talked to her instead of Shells was a couple weeks ago.

She always seemed to scurry away the moment he got closer. Which honestly hurt him a little? So when he was able to talk to her for real, he couldn’t miss the chance.

 He licked his lips then, muttering a quick ‘yes’ under his breath before chugging more water. Maverick had a knowing look on his face, grinning while shaking his head at how he was acting.

 He had seen this once before, a long time ago.

It was already 0300, so Mav thought about cutting the game short much to the officers’ disappointment. He grabbed the ball from Coyote, about to lead them away until Phoenix’s voice broke the silence, “Hey, is that Bea and Shells?” Maverick arched one eyebrow, paying attention to where Phoenix was pointing at. 

Two figures were there in the distance, jumping every once in a while, a light colored object moving with them. It was Bob however, who said - while fixing his glasses- “Yeah, it’s them. They are playing volleyball?” The group of navy officers stood there for a moment, then turned to look at Maverick, almost asking him permission to go there.

He sighed, fixing the cooler strap on his shoulder, “Okay, fine. Just don’t topple the two.” In reality, he perked up once he heard the name Bea leave Phoenix’s mouth. The girl whose Rooster is not getting attracted to. Never mind the young Bradshaw seemed to hesitate a bit before following everyone.

Rooster sucked in a deep breath, then drank his water slowly, the vision of the two girls becoming clearer the closer they got. But by all that was holy he wasn’t expecting to see Bea’s bare legs and those tiny shorts on. That was probably more skin than he’d ever seen on her and he couldn’t find in himself to complain.

He knew she had thick thighs, it was obvious, but to see how defined her calf muscles are and how strong her legs seemed to be? Not to mention how the shirt, that was tugged up, showed how tiny her waist seemed to be, giving her the perfect hourglass shape… he wanted to be the gentleman his mother raised him to be and not stare for too long, it seemed inappropriate right now.

“Oh my gosh, hi guys!” Shells’ syrupy sweet voice startled Bea, the blonde making a shocked face once the group of officers got closer, “What a surprise to see you here!”

Bea frowned, looking over her shoulder to check who Shells was talking to. Her eyes enlarged, almost popping out of the sockets once the recognition hit her. The blood of her body, her soul, her fucking heart left. She stood there, partially turned, looking like a deer in the highlights about to be run over by a 16 wheeled truck.

Oh no, Rooster. He was looking straight at her. Bea felt her breathing quicken, her head snapping forward to give Shells a horrified look, then she adjusted her position and shuffled miserably to where her friend was, feeling the tears burning her vision before she stood partially behind the blonde. 

Shells looked over her shoulder, “Hey come on now,”

“You knew they would be here??” came her quiet, yet horror-stricken voice. She felt sick, oh god, she was going to throw up, she knew it. Immediately once behind Shells, she yanked the knot off her shirt, letting the fabric drop down to the top of her buttocks.

“Chill, it’s okay.”

“It’s not okay.” Bea replied through gritted teeth, a mix of fury and shame in her eyes. How could Shells just… plan this? Let her wear this knowing the one man she was head over heels crushing on would be just a few meters away. She couldn’t stay. She had to go. But she’d see them at the bar later tonight…ugh, they’d ask questions if she ran away now.

‘God, God please,'' she thought, clenching her eyes ‘Please strike me with lightning so I become a pile of ashes and the wind can take me away, please.’

“Yeah we’d love to!” Shells’ chipper voice said, “Right Bea?”

The brunette’s eyes snapped open, “H-Huh?”

“a volleyball match, you, me and Phoenix vs Hangman, Coyote and Payback.”

If looks could kill, Shells would be down, murdered, being ripped apart by sharks, because Bea looked less than amused, in fact she looked downright furious. But instead of denying it, she felt the hot lick of anger go through her whole body, “Sure.” she snarled, yanking the ball from Shells’ hands, “I could do a game.”

“Great! Positions everyone! Mav, can you count our scores?”

“Sure.”

Shells grinned, stretching her arms over her head before standing opposite to Phoenix on the invisible volleyball court. 

Bea’s direct opposite was Hangman, who leaned over, supporting his weight on his knees. The two of them looked at each other, the blonde man smiled and sent her a wink, “I’ll promise to be nice, sweetheart. Won’t hurt you too much.”

“Hey Hangman!” Shells called, making his eyes turn to her, “You wanna know what was the nickname our team gave Bea when we played volleyball?”

“What?”

The smirk on Shells’ face was downright feral, “Torpedo.” Hangman furrowed his eyebrows, turning his head back to the brunette whose expression remained neutral but her jaw was clenched tight. 

She had the volleyball on the palm of her right hand, using her left hand to spin it on its axis once, twice, three times. He barely had time to blink when he saw her flex her legs, leap high letting go of the volleyball so it’d twirl in the air. 

The loud thunk of her palm hitting the strips of leather echoed around the empty beach, the ball becoming a blur once the speed took control, Coyote who was in front of the net immediately ducked and Hangman let out a shout when the sand next to his feet just exploded once the impact occurred. The sand cloud dissipated, Phoenix letting out a laugh of triumph at how shocked Hangman was, his blonde hair askew thanks to the quick evasion he had to do, “What the fuck??”

“Point to the girls.” Mav announced with a bright grin, clapping his hands, “Good job ladies.”

Rooster,who stood behind Mav in silence, watched Beatrice launch strike after strike. She almost punched the ball to prevent it from hitting their side of the net. It was hilarious seeing Hangman scramble, falling face first in the sand trying to hit the ball without much success. Honestly, both Payback and Coyote seemed to just be having as much fun over Hangman’s demise as everyone else was.

His whiskey colored eyes turned back to Beatrice, who seemed to be on a mission to win this game. It was amazing, she wasn’t that short now that he thought about it, shorter than him of course, but she was tall enough to launch herself a few feet up in the air.

The final score was 10-1 because Shells slapped a mosquito from her calf. “Rematch!” Hangman’s voice boomed, pointing his index finger at the girls, “Right now!”

“No can do, Jake. It’s time for us to head back.” Maverick smirked, “But this was fun, we should do this again.”

Beatrice couldn’t hear much, her chest was heaving, her hair falling out of the bun because of how intense she was during the game. She fucking lost her mind, jumping around? Flabby body parts swinging when the man she crushed on watched by the sidelines? She shook her head quickly, stepping out from behind Shells to rush to where her flip flops were, not stopping when people started calling her name.

She just had to go.

So she did.

-

She didn’t talk much once they got back at the bar,  ignoring Shells trying to chat, her eyes lowered, focused on filling glasses and preparing cocktails if need be. Rooster was there already, from what she heard Hangman was still sulking by the loss but she didn’t…care much.

She felt…awful. She refused to go to their table, Rooster would come by to get drinks but she’d step away letting Shells or Penny deal with him. It wasn’t…his fault, but she couldn’t face him. Not after what happened. God, the fact he saw her with so much skin showing, so much of the body she was still trying to live in peace with was seen by someone she just couldn’t keep her mind out of.

She was a bit talkative to the other patrons, but nothing like normal. What happened earlier today drained her emotionally to the point she had dead eyes most of the time while working. 

When the bar was nearing closing time, when it was just her and Shells, she was the one who said she’d close the bar, “Do you want me to wait for you?” Shells asked cautiously when her friend was turning the stools over to the tables.

“No,I’m fine.”

Shells frowned, adjusting her bag strap, “It’s going to rain soon Bea, look,” she pointed to the massive storm clouds approaching the coast “I can give you a ride.”

“I’ll catch an Uber.” came the brunette’s short reply.

“I said I was sorry-”

“I don’t want to talk about it,right now.”

Shells closed her mouth immediately, looking at her boots with a frown, “Okay.I’m going then…see you tomorrow?” her friend just nodded, not looking back at the blonde, who sighed before turning on her heel out of the bar.

Bea looked up to the clouds again, seeing flashes of lightning shine in the distance and felt a pang of regret on not accepting Shells’ offer for a ride home. She didn’t know if she could get an Uber once the rain hit…but she also said she’d close the bar. She could only hope the moment she opened the app a brave soul would be there.

The brunette was almost done, even finding a wallet  - that belonged to none other than Jake Seresin himself - on the corner of the bar. She snapped her eyes to the sound of thunder right above her head, clenching them shut when a strong gust of wind almost made her slip. The storm was here and while the rain wasn’t violent, it was still strong enough to make it sound like someone was shooting on the roof.

She pulled out her phone to check the app, “No, oh no.” out of service, her phone was out of service, “Fuck!” She bit her lower lip hard, rushing to the employee’s room to grab her bag and an extra umbrella, then reaching for the landline phone to call Shells. What a horrible time to be pissed at your friend.

“Penny?” she frowns, the phone on her ear as she thought she heard a voice mixed with the rain, tilting her body forward, seeing a figure walk inside the bar but not entering fully, staying partially by the entrance. Beatrice widened her eyes when she saw it was Rooster, soaked to the bone, hair splattered on his forehead as he looked around, the puddles on his feet staying outside rather than in the already clean bar.

“Rooster?” his head snapped to her direction when she walked out, clutching the umbrella close “What are you doing here?”

“Hangman forgot his fucking wallet.” he breathed out, running a hand over his face to wipe the water off his eyes, sputtering some of it out of his lips.

“Why are you here then?”

“He’s drunk, he got annoyed because of the game this afternoon and drank his feelings.” 

“...oh.” Beatrice lowered her head, furrowing her eyebrows then reaching for the wallet under the bar. Walking around the counter to reach him - trying to not look at how the clothes now clung to him like a second skin - “Here, I found it on the floor.”

Rooster sighed, grabbing the dark wallet after muttering a thanks, then he looked up at her ,”You here alone?”

“Yeah, I closed the bar tonight.” she replies, holding up her cellphone, “I was trying to call an Uber but I guess the storm messed some things up, so I’ll try to call Shells. See if she can come pick me up.”

Rooster stared at her for a while, then shook his head, “No need, my car is just over there,” he points over his shoulder in the said direction the Bronco was, “I can give you a ride.”

Panic flashed in her eyes, both of her hands going up in a defense mode, “No,no! It’s fine,I-I’ll just try with Shells, she said she’d pick me up if I needed.”

“It won’t bother me, if that’s what you are worried about,” another thunder rumbled over their heads, loud enough to make the wooden beams vibrate, “Honestly, we better go before it gets worse than this.”

She knew he was right, but she still hesitated. It wasn’t until she looked over her shoulder, seeing how it seemed like the sky and sea turned into one solid black color that she decided her choices were limited. She nods then, going back to the bar to turn off the lights, opening the umbrella over her head, lifting it high for Rooster, “No, don’t worry about me,I’m already soaked!” he calls before grabbing her wrist to guide her to his car.

The rain was beginning to double its intensity, the winds now were howling and the raindrops got even louder. She was only able to know where to go because Rooster took her, opening the passenger door so she could get in, closing the umbrella and trying her best to dry it off without soaking his car.

Rooster slammed the door shut once he got in, “Holy shit.” he whispered, wiping his eyes, then his face, his seat had water sliding out of him onto the leather, she followed some of the water drops until they disappeared from her view. He must be incredibly uncomfortable sitting on wet clothes. “God damn, this came out of nowhere.”

“It did.” Bea whispered, bit her lower lip then opened her bag. He flit his eyes her direction, watching her rummage her messenger bag - the little Xenomorph keychain she had on the main zipper shaking wildly as she moved the bag about. She pulled out a neatly folded lilac colored towel, offering it to him “Here,” he looked at the towel then herself, “It’s not much but it will dry your face at least.”

Rooster let out a quiet breathy chuckle, offering her a small smile, “Thanks.” He raised the fluffy towel to his face, rubbing the water off the best he could. He couldn’t help but whiff a bit of the scent: fabric softener and a hint of perfume? Maybe she was one of those girls who liked to have a small travel style perfume bottle in her bag. It smelled nice, floral, maybe…lavender? He knew what lavender smells like because his mother’s favorite flowers were lavender and red roses.

He rubs the towel to his hair,then drags it down his neck. Bea tried not to watch, keeping her eyes on the window when he leaned his head  back, exposing the thick column of his wet throat. The sighs of relief that left his mouth weren’t helping her either.

 With her towel now sitting on his thigh, Rooster turned the car on, looking over his shoulder to check what was behind him - what wasn’t rain that is - not seeing how Bea’s eyes widened when this time she could see his neck, collarbones and the top of his pectorals dusted with chest hair.

She clenched her hands on top of her jeans clad thighs, keeping her eyes ahead, the whiff of his cologne almost making her feel woozy, so she tried to make herself as small as she could, tucking her body closer to the door.

The Bronco moved, the sound of rain hitting the roof getting louder the farther they got from the Hard Deck. She could only watch the rain drops and blurred colors of the night life as Rooster drove her to her house, her bag sitting on top of her stomach - almost like a shield - while her face turned to the window, trying her best to keep it to herself.

Rooster’s eyes kept moving from the road to Bea, who sat quietly on the passenger seat, almost curled onto herself with her bag clutched to her stomach so tightly the little Xenomorph keychain seemed to be digging inside her wrist. He licked his lips, wracking his brain in hopes to think of something to fill the silence. Ever since he watched her bolt out of the beach after obliterating Hangman, then avoiding him at all costs in the bar, he wanted to talk to her.

He cleared his throat, adjusting himself on the seat with a grimace, his clothes were damp and warm now, “So…” he began, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, “Where did you learn volleyball?”

“School.” she mutters, “Was part of the team then I joined the all girls team in college.”

“Your college has an official volleyball team?”

“No, no it was just something the girls in my class wanted to do.” she murmurs, playing with the tiny ring on her thumb, “We were an informal team, we’d meet up on the weekends to face off the girls from other classes.”

“What was the name Shells said they gave you? Torpedo?” that made a quiet laugh leave her lips and he felt himself relax for a second, glad to see her smiling “What’s funny?”

“They wanted to make me a shirt with the name on it.” she smiles, “We never did, we didn’t have the time to make uniforms, we weren’t an official team. We were just a bunch of girls having fun during the weekends.”

“It’d still be pretty cool.” he adds, “Wouldn’t be wrong either.” she looked at him then, turned her face with those big green eyes blinking up in surprise, “Didn’t you see Hangman scrambling? He got pissy because he was bested by someone who isn't any of us. You are really good.”

Beatrice’s cheeks reddened and she dropped her gaze back to her hands, a tiny smile on her face “Thank you.” was her quiet reply. He wanted to ask her why she ran off, but he felt it was better if he didn’t, not yet at least, not when she seemed to relax. 

He almost felt bad when he reached her driveway, “Your stop milady.” he smiles, watching her laugh softly while gathering her things, the rain got lighter now, making it easier to see where he was going. Jolene’s little head peeked from behind the curtains, much like when he came here for the first time, soft ‘boofs’ leaving her mouth while her whole body shook. Beatrice opened the passenger door before he could do so, grabbing her things and then looking down at him.

“Wait here.” she said, rushing to the front door after leaving the car. He stood there, a bit confused on her words but he watched her enter her house, the insides lighting up as she turned on the lights. It wasn’t long until she returned, this time with two huge fluffy towels in her arms.

He smiled confusedly as she stopped next to his door, “What’s this?” she gestured to him to open it so he did, “Why the towels?”

“So you can sit on them.” she said quickly, “It won't help your clothes too much, but it’ll be better than sitting in a water bowl.”

His mouth parted in surprise, “Sit on them- Bea, you didn’t have to. I can handle this.” but he was already stepping out of the Bronco, Beatrice leaning over to spread one of the towels on the seat. It soaked up the moisture immediately, so she folded it into a square to make it like a little pillow for him, draping the one that was left on the back of his seat. The lilac and baby pink towels were a bit of a glare in the dark interior of his car, but he couldn’t find it in himself to complain. 

When he looked down at her, he genuinely thanked her, “You really didn’t have to.”

She shrugs, folding her hands together, “I used to do this to my brother whenever he got back from surfing. I know how bad it feels to have your seat soaked like that.” she bites her lower lip, “Just so you can get back without feeling…damp.”

Rooster laughed gently, still looking down at her but then shaking his head, “Right, yeah…I’ll bring them back to you.” He tells her quickly, “So they don’t smell like wet dog, I promise.” his smile was so wide his cheeks hurt, but she nodded shyly at him, holding her upper arms close to her body.

The smell of fabric softener and lavender got stronger when he sat back down and he tried his best to not inhale deeply. He slid on his seatbelt, latching it shut “Drive safely…and thank you, for the ride.” she says, leaning forward a bit so he can see her face on the window.

“It’s no problem…thanks for the towels,” she laughs and her face lights up “Promise I’ll bring them clean soon, okay?”

“Okay.” she straightened herself, stepping back so he could reverse the Bronco out of her driveway. She gave him a little wave once he was distant enough, he waved back before turning the car away and driving off.

Her towels were so soft and fluffy, it was like he had blankets on his back and on his ass, but he couldn’t stop the giddy smile on his face. Once he reached a stop light, he leaned back on his seat, cupping her lower part of his face, shaking his head almost as if he couldn’t believe it.

He smiled even wider when he remembered the way she waved him off, chuckling to himself with both of his hands on his face, “God...” he laughs, staying on the stop sign smiling like a boy with a crush.

[waloeders]

golden rays and pitch-black nights

"odin hesitated.

he could feel the Eikon within him, hesitate. the same Eikon that had driven him to such heights, to sit upon his throne, to conquer, to dominate and control an entire continent -

odin, warden of darkness, hesitated before killing and barnabas found himself doing the same."

ship: barnabas tharmr/kosmos, {future} sleipnir harbard/kosmos and {implied qpr?} barnabas tharmr/sleipnir harbard

word count: 3,420

warnings: ff16 spoilers, religious talk (of fictional religions), mentions of a dead mother, manipulations (thanks ultima), character death (kind of? he's fine, dw abt it), mentions of being very high up on a tower (the one shown above) and some general vague fighting described

notes: YELLS A LOT!!!!! this is set before my other fic and is a like, big important turning point for quite a few chars :3 so much fun to write!!! also the image is where this is set (on top the reverie, which is the tower). notable things are- ultima loves manipulation + being praised/treated like a god so thats a big tw. also ryder/kosmos uses he/they. i hope u enjoys :3

"what manner of betrayal is this?" ultima's dissonant voice called out, feet not quite touching the floor as it floated in place, "you have brought an atrocity to us, odin."

the Kings' eyes flicked over to where the man in question stood, then back to the ground before him, kneeling before his God.

"i would never betray you, my Lord." was his only response, unable to conjure a sufficient explanation to the being before Him - or to himself. why had he brought ryder?

it wasn't as if he truly required a hostage to escape the hideaway. shiva, though powerful, had her wings clipped by logos- mythos, he reminded himself - and mythos was far away in the corners of sanbreque, if the young man he had brought along was to be believed.

if he was being truthful with himself, barnabas couldn't explain what it was, why he had made this choice. there was simply...something. something about ryder that intrigued him, that led him to believe their word, to trust they spoke truthfully, that led him to take them with him back to the reverie.

a small distance behind him, he could sense sleipnirs' smallest motions, fidgeting in place, and, without looking, he knew that the egi was in the same position as him - that he kneeled before their Lord.

"answer me, odin." ultima tilted its' head, turning to him.

there was a frustration in its voice he'd never heard.

"he is a gift to you, our Lord." sleipnir spoke up, piercing the silence that his leige had left, and it struck the King that his egi had never spoken directly to ultima before - that he had merely stayed silent, docile and obedient, if he had even been in the room at all. despite being as much a part of odin as barnabas was, his Lord often skirted around the egi.

"a gift?" ryder blurted out but quickly threw a hand up to cover their mouth and forcibly avoided eye contact. they hadn't knelt alongside the King and his egi and instead stood off to the side, inching away from the three of them as much as he could while atop a tower thousands of metres tall.

it wouldn't have mattered if they ran or fell - sleipnir would catch them, barnabas mused.

"a contemptuous gift at that." it floated away from the duo, approaching the younger man, "and you? we had thought you long since dead - how unfortunate that we were proved wrong."

the King risked a glance.

his Lord towered over them- floating or not. despite the slight shaking in their hands, ryder glared up at ultima from behind strands of dark hair and thin-rimmed glasses. their hand drifted, hovering over the empty scabbard attached to the dark brown leather belt he adorned, and clenched tightly into a fist.

the familiar sight of his Lords' tattered capes fluttering in a non-existent breeze and a flicker of motion from its' head had the King staring at the ground once more.

"are, uh. are you sure you mean me? only, we haven't actually, you know, met before now." the young man stumbled out and he knew, without looking, they were doing some kind of hand motion (they always were), "not that- i mean, not that i know of, uh, mr ultima."

their voice trailed off.

"come now, kosmos. this pretence brings us little amusement. we are most curious how you yet live - and in a physical form at that."

"i... what?" ryder mumbled, "what are you on about? like, actually, what are you talking about?"

a shudder ran through barnabas, kosmos? he had heard the name before, in whispered, heretical stories, in the mouths of non-believers decades ago - but there was no truth to them, no substance.

and his Lord would speak of this being, would verify such heresy? would name this man, kosmos?

"we tire of this failed deception, kin. show yourself to us, so that we might converse freely." ultima demanded and for once, he didn't fight the urge to stare at their interaction.

"i-i don't know what you're on about. i'm not kosmos, i don't even know who- what that is!" they threw their arms up in exasperation.

it tilted its' head again.

"then allow us to shed this mortal shell of yours."

it lifted a hand up, summoning a spell with ease, and let a ball of swirling blue light engulf the man. he only had a chance to step back, covering his face with his own hand, before being consumed.

a word caught in the Kings' throat, held back by some invisible force, strangling on the idea as it drowned him.

as quickly as his Lord had summoned the spell, it dispelled, letting the aether collapse into dust motes as it lowered its' hand.

he found the breath he hadn't known he was holding falling out; ryder was fine - or they appeared unharmed, albeit, confused.

"what the fuck did you do to me?" he growled out, hand falling back into a fist at his side, the other flung out to emphasise their point, "i mean, seriously, what the fuck is your problem with me?"

"how unexpected." it stared, eyes unblinking as always, "you cling to this form, this life."

a flurry of its' familiar blue aether had ultima slipping into a rift and reappearing in front of its' statue, before odin.

"it is of no consequence. kill them." ultima commanded.

a moment of silence fell across the reverie, carried on the soft breeze that lived so high in the atmosphere.

barnabas stood, bowed to his Lord, then turned to face the young man, summoning zantetsuken to his hand with the same ease of slipping out of bed.

"wait-" their face furrowed, stepping back as they raised their hand ever so slightly, and heaved a breath, "i don't want to fight."

from the sidelines, sleipnir snorted - at some point, he had stood too - and he folded his hands behind his back, watching intently.

"oh, this will hardly be a fight." the egi smirked, his thick waloedian accent looping through the words.

"rude." ryder mumbled, then spoke up, "all this for a guy who hates you, i mean, really?"

the King took another step forward, eyes following keenly as they matched his motions, stepping back. and then, they paused. a feeling slipped over their face, too fast for him to identify, that steeled into anger.

"or, FINE! do what he says, be nothing more than some silly, lied-to, puppet on a string and never amount to anything but a fucking footnote in a history that won't remember you. who gives a fuck!" the young man yelled out, hands frantically thrown upwards. his own motions almost disrupting the glasses he wore and he pushed them back, voice returning to a mumble, "this place sucks anyway."

odin hesitated.

he could feel the Eikon within him, hesitate. the same Eikon that had driven him to such heights, to sit upon his throne, to conquer, to dominate and control an entire continent -

odin, warden of darkness, hesitated before killing and barnabas found himself doing the same.

zantetsuken shuddered out of existence, the aether blown away in an instant. he could feel, more than see, the way sleipnir shifted in his spot, unwilling to draw the attention - or perhaps ire - of their Lord and yet wishing to move closer, to act on his behalf, to move where he stopped, to act as an extension of himself - as he always did.

"this... is kosmos?" King Barnabas frowned, glancing up and down at the man before him. if this was kosmos, as the forbidden scriptures described, his Lords sworn-enemy, a being as powerful as Him... this man was a threat to his Lord?

a footnote in history.

"you are our sword, odin; yielded as we see fit. kill them, so we might begin primogenesis. mankind must be rid of his wretchedness, so we might usher in the new world." ultimas' voice drifted over his shoulder and he watched ryder roll their eyes at the words.

"you do not believe in our Lords' word?"

"i know he's a liar. humans have no place in the 'new world' - and you know it too. he told you, told clive!" they growled out, glaring at it, "i don't know shit about this kosmos thing, i'll admit, but the new world is a fucking lie. grow a spine and admit it to yourself!"

a laugh found itself in his chest, clawing its way out and he grinned wickedly.

"grow a spine?"

he watched their face drop, swallowed by the fear that took over and... a thin glimmering stream of golden light pulsed up their neck. it was faint, barely present, and he doubted that the others could see it from such distance.

"golden aeth-...?" the words caught in his throat and recognition settled into a growl, "kosmos."

ryder took another step back.

laughter crawled out of him once more, keeling him over and throwing his head back. he could feel sleipnirs' gaze on him, the burn of his steel blue eyes and how the concern twisted through their bond.

it was all so absurd.

his laughter finally settled into a giggle, and collapsed into the King heaving air.

he stood upright and raised a hand once more, palm flat up as he gestured to ryder, "THIS is kosmos?!"

"why do you hesitate?"

his egi tensed, hand slipping to rest on his swords' hilt, by habit or choice - neither could tell.

"why?" barnabas spat out, twisting to glare at ultima, "to even speak the name is heresy. yet here you stand, asking of me to end a being who should not exist; by your grand design, he should not exist!"

"i see." it began floating the smallest amount higher, looking down on the three humans, "you cannot rise above your station, odin. you have failed us."

"you lied." he hissed out.

a twisting pain shot through the King, atoms shuddering under the weight, and he fell to his knees, blue aether beginning to swirl around him as an ashen-grey dust crept up his hands, caught under his skin.

"ohhh, shit." ryder muttered, finally broken from their trance, and they watched as waloeds' lord commander lept forth, standing between his King and their lord, sword drawn.

"you would dare harm my liege?" he cried out, form shimmering in a spattering of swirling purple darkness as he semi-primed into a set of ornate, silver armour.

"you are less than an insect to me, egi." it raised a hand, throwing out a familiar, but smaller beam of light and aether that sleipnir dodged with ease.

in one swooping move, he launched gungnir in retaliation, leaping high into the air to avoid another shot of unaspected magic, and the battle began.

the young man glanced between the three of them and the exit, catching the way the egi faltered on one of his attacks', physical form flickering in and out of existence, yet quickly recovered to feint into another crushing blow.

ryder groaned, swearing under their breath, and hurried to the Kings' side.

"com'on, we gotta get outta here!" they crouched beside him, hands grasping at his deep blue tunic to try to pull him up. strands of the aether and crystal curse clung to the air, seeping into their clothes, onto their skin, into their lungs, "barnabas, get UP!"

"i have failed my Lord." he mumbled, staring down at hands coated in ash. the crystals' curse that he had avoided for nigh-on five decades now catching up as his Lord released some hold on him - as his lord allowed it to catch up to him.

"are you fucking serious right now- get up!" ryder groaned and reached up to force the King to look at him, their other hand still clenching his tunic, "you're odin- barnabas tharmr, king of waloed, conqueror of ash - you're the scariest, strongest guy on the fucking planet, come on!"

a yelp drew both their eyes upwards, to where ultima had seemingly had enough of the fight; its' hand clasped tightly around sleipnirs' neck, dangling him over the edge of the reverie, and, in one swift move, crushed his form into a smattering of aether-dust.

"pathetic."

the lord commanders' sword clattered to the ground, mere feet away from the pair.

ryder glanced at the King, who was staring into the abyss left behind where his egi had been, and swore. he threw himself forward, barely upright as he grabbed the hilt of sleipnirs' rapier, and hurried to the standing-ready position that gav had taught him.

ultima scoffed.

"kosmos. when last we fought, we were evenly matched. now? you are weak. you lack the will to prevail, as you always have."

"right. well." the young man shrugged, blurting out some nonsense noises, "what about that, huh?"

"such childish nonsens-"

"-says the fucker with his grippers out, get outta here!"

"ENOUGH!"

a burst of aether echoed from it as it spoke, the force shoving them to the ground and ripping the sword from their grasp.

ryders' vision blurred from the impact and he could taste faint copper-iron on their tongue; they watched helplessly as the rapier slipped over the tower-edge.

if it made a noise when it landed on the ground, no one atop the reverie heard.

"we expect such petty behaviours from mankind - but for you to indulge yourself so, kosmos, is unbecoming. you are as much a slave to fickle emotions as mankind is."

they moaned, reaching a hand up to find blood coating their forehead, and winced at the thought. slowly, ryder forced himself up onto his hands and knees, blue eyes slipping over to where barnabas had been.

the King still drowned in aether and ash, his atoms struggling to grasp one another under the strain, yet he had hardly moved - now sat on his heels, head thrown back to stare into the pitch-black night sky lingering above, lips moving in a silent prayer.

"odin. we had thought the sin of free will had been understood by you, but it would seem we were mistaken. one cannot forsake their nature, human as you are." it finally landed in front of barnabas, replacing his view of the night, and a pale hand reached out to grasp his head tightly, forcing him to stare at the being.

"it is fortunate that mythos now beholds odin. this act of defiance cannot, willnot stand."

he stared up at his Lord, eyes searching for any sign of meaning, purpose, of anything that might provide a path to salvation.

it released its' grip on him, hand moving to cup one side of his face, and for a moment, ultimas' form shimmered before him, twisting and contorting into a familar face.

"you know what you must do, barnabas." her voice, soothing and patient as she always had been, had his stomach twisting into knots.

"mother..."

"do as our lord commands." her dark brown eyes flicked to ryder, still struggling to get off the floor, "kill kosmos."

the churnings of the crystals' curse paused, aether calmly falling to the ground around them- snowflakes of another nature.

his eyes remained fixed on her, unable to pull away, and a light tug on his cheek had the King blinking away the familiar, deep grooves of misery he lived in.

"do as our lord commands, barnabas, and we shall speak again, in the new world."

the new world?

"the scripture..." he mumbled, breath catching, "it is heresy. kosmos cannot be, mother."

"then end them."

barnabas' head turned to the young man, zantetsuken springing to the hand at his side, and he pushed himself to stand.

they were on the ground. ryder hadn't even looked up, eyes tightly clasped as he heaved air; thin lines of golden aether running through their veins once more - yet stronger than before, as if their injuries had emboldened the ambient magicks in the world.

odin's sword found its' mark with ease.

the image of his mother shattered in an instant, torn asunder by the inhuman shriek of ultima crying out, one of its' arm revealed to have been split in two.

the King of Waloed found himself pushed back by another blast of aether as it screamed, sword ripping into the ground in an attempt to drag him to a halt, and he ended up on one knee, hands clenching the hilt of his sword, as he stared at the being before him.

"YOU!" it howled, even as it drew aether into itself, reforming the lost limb of its' incorporeal body.

he could hear kosmos curse beside him but his eyes remained on the Lord - his Lord, who he had just betrayed. he had injured- betrayed his lord.

salvation from such an act could only be death.

"we have offered you naught but everything and you would reject us? you have no place in the new world, odin." the god-like being hissed out, raising its' newly rebuilt hand to summon the same light it had used against ryder, that started the whole affair, "as such, your mortal skin shall be shed. you shall be undone - just as all mankind shall be, as was always meant to be."

he closed his eyes before the light, surrendering to the darkness behind his eyelids, to where he knew odin lingered, and his mind fell into the eerie, empty space, welcomed by the silence found only where odin was.

yet, he was interrupted by an unfamiliar warmth, the faint sensation of warm, human touch, of hands grasping his waist, clutching onto him tightly as if he would blow away in a faint wind.

in the abyss, barnabas was met with gold.

atop the reverie, he blinked down at the man hugging his waist - kosmos. the glimpsed golden aether had found its place in their blood, pulsing through them, and from their back, they sprouted ghostly golden-opaque wings (not terribly unlike garudas', he noted), that surrounded them - a warm light that blocked the cold blue of ultimas' spell, splintering it into a thousand light-beams around them.

"kosmos...?" the King uttered, drawing their attention. their eyes stared blearily into his, possessed in the golden glow, streaks of molten aether flowing down as tears upon their cheeks.

it took him a moment to recognise the feeling upon their face; the way they looked through him as if he were a thousand miles away, an emptiness sat behind the golden glow consuming them, taking over them. he had seen Eikons take over their dominants before, seen them lose control and rage across the lands, the seas, reigning destruction unbeknown to man - it was the closest match he could find to the sight before him.

then, the energy around them collapsed, exploding outwards with an ear-shattering boom and a cascade of iridescent light burst away from them, waves upon waves collapsing, leaping over themselves through the night, further and further until it stretched past the horizon.

barnabas frowned, releasing the breath he held captive, as he watched the waves of light, eyes briefly slipping to where ultima stood, even its' cape frozen in place.

a small noise drew his attention back to kosmos, who continued to stare up at him, cheek stained with tears of golden aether. gently, he reached up to brush it away, but found the magick seeped into his hands, up his arm and through his entire body, soaking in warmth.

"...what is this?" he mumbled, seeming to awaken something in the man in his arms. they blinked away the gold in their eyes, the blue seeping back in and tilted their head at him, a small "oh." falling from their lips.

silence broken, the golden waves shattered into dust. far below the reverie, it seemed to be snowing.

"kosmos." ultima finally spoke and they tensed up, eyebrows furrowing.

in a confusing instant, kosmos shoved his head into the Kings' chest, as the familiar purple darkness of odin drew around them, surrounding and overtaking both of their vision in a swirling vortex.

when it finally settled, barnabas blinked in confusion.

they were no longer atop the reverie.

they were back. in the hideaway, sat on the dusty ground of the Fallen ruin. kosmos still wrapped around him, motionless, and he realised he had moved to hold them in turn, hand gripping the back of their black tunic tightly.

their golden-opaque wings had began to fade out of existence, leaving only the dazzled, familiar faces of cid and myt- logos staring at the pair.

"well. so much for rescuing a hostage, aye?" cid remarked.

thats all ty :3

[youcouldmakealife]

SOTM: Jared(/Bryce), Gabe/Stephen; scintillating conversation (Pt 1)

For the prompt:  Protective Bryce over drunk jared

There is zero protective Bryce in this part. Zero Bryce at all, in fact. Only what gets Jared in said position in the first place (spoiler alert: it is his own pettiness).

Some people have noticed Jared has been dunked on a lot of late. Stephen would like to remind you that he deserves every last bit of it.

Stephen Petersen is, Jared has decided, a terrible influence.

“Thank you,” Stephen says. “I truly appreciate that, especially from you.”

He doesn’t look sarcastic. He doesn’t sound sarcastic either, which is strange, because he always sounds sarcastic. That’s just his voice.

But right now he sounds completely sincere. It’s unnerving. It makes Jared uncomfortable.

“Why especially from me?” Jared says.

“Because you’re boring,” Stephen says. “So if you considered me a good influence, that’d mean I was also boring.”

Jared sputters. “I am not—“

“Extremely boring,” Stephen says.

“I’m an interesting person!” Jared says.

“What’d you do last night?” Stephen asks.

(Jared made dinner while listening to Bryce’s latest monologue about physio, ate dinner while encouraging Bryce to eat instead of monologuing about last night’s game, watched three episodes of the dumb reality TV show Bryce is obsessed with while mocking it to the group chat — Ashley texted Jared in solidarity behind the group chat’s back, since apparently Chaz is also obsessed with it — caught the final few minutes of the Oilers game, just in time to see Julius score two goals in the space of twenty-seven seconds — because it’s the Oilers, they still lost — somehow ended up in a text rant with Erin about the game, even though Erin’s still on his shit list, because she kept making mean and accurate statements about the Oilers, and Jared’s now curious if she’s watching all of Julius’ games, which would answer what it would take to finally make Erin a hockey fan, or if Julius has fully turned on his teammates and Erin’s getting prime rants and Jared isn’t just because he’s playing for the enemy now, which isn’t fair. And by the time Jared listened to Bryce’s complaining that he’d fall asleep if Jared didn’t stop texting and come to bed, Bryce’s threat had become reality, and he was out like a light when Jared put his phone away. Also taking up more than his fair share of the bed too, and impossible to move. If Jared didn’t know better he’d think Bryce did it on purpose.)

“Extremely interesting things,” Jared says.

“Mhm,” Stephen says. “Want to elaborate?”

“No,” Jared says, then, “Don’t look at me like that,” to Gabe, who’s smirking into his beer rather than at Jared, actually, but still. Stephen’s also smirking, but Jared won’t bother to tell him not to. He’d just smirk wider in response. “Anyway, you can’t judge someone by what they do on one night.”

“What did you do two nights before that?” Stephen asks, ruthlessly cutting away the night Jared could say ‘played pro hockey in front of a crowd of twenty-thousand people’, which is an extremely interesting thing to do.

“I—“ Jared says. “Wait, I was hanging out with Gabe. So. That means you’re boring too!”

Gabe puts both hands up, a silent ‘don’t involve me in this’, which is rich, considering he’s responsible for Stephen. Or maybe it’s a ‘friendly fire, Stephen’ hands up.

“I’m interesting,” Jared says. “I’ll — I’m going to drink five of these.”

He takes a swig of his Nutrl as proof. Oksana suggested it as a beer alternative less likely to get him mocked by the entire Canucks roster than his preferred beverages, and so far he hasn’t been mocked, so it may actually be a success, albeit not a great tasting one. Still better than beer, though. 

“Drinking doesn’t make you interesting, it just makes you drunk,” Stephen says, which is an absolute bullshit statement from someone who literally hosts wine parties, and has unironically used the words ‘bouquet’ and ‘mouthfeel’ in Jared’s presence. He clearly does not believe what he’s saying.

The waitress arrives at their table with perfect timing, and Jared says, “Can we get three more of these?”

Gabe snorts, then says, “And three waters, please,” before the waitress can disappear to get Jared his drinks.

“Those are all for you, aren’t they,” Gabe says.

“I’m interesting!” Jared says.