#thanks for asking - I am obsessed with them

[eupheme]

ahhh I’m in love with the way you write oldman!logan! Lately I’ve been thinking about dom!logan bending his girl over his knee and giving her a couple spankings, and of course rewarding her for her good behavior later ;) love ur page so much!

oh! 😳💖 dom!old man logan has my heart and he for sure wouldn’t hesitate to put you over his knee - I love this so much!! I hope this little blurb did your idea justice because I am obsessed!! (and thank you so so much!! for the kind words and this awesome ask! 💕)

lessons | old man logan x f!reader

550 words | impact play, spanking, sub/dom vibes, teasing, begging, fingering

He can hear each sound that slips from you. Every gasp and whine. The sharp, inhaled breath you hold, with the twist of his wrist.

Bracing for impact.

If his eyes were to shut, he thinks he’d hear more. The hammering of your heart beneath your ribs, the creak of your fingers as they fist in the fabric of his trousers.

Feel more - the hot exhale of your breath, buried against his thigh. The shift of your knees as they inch wider.

Your scent rolls off you in waves. So much of him has diminished over the years - the once-sharp shine of his claws now dulled. That silver gleam now scuffed up, matted.

But not his senses. Helpless with the way you overwhelm him, all that want and desire building to a crescendo.

It’s supposed to be a punishment, and he can’t pretend it’s not torture.

“How many left?”

It’s more gruff than he means to be. Demanding - a hard edge to the words.

A breath, before you’re answering, “F-five.”

“And you got it through that head of yours?”

“Yes.”

The syllables draw out - the slightest flinch in anticipation, when his hand lifts from the armrest. The cool roll of his now-empty whisky glass against a cheek, the liquor now faded from his tongue.

Followed up the cup of a broad palm. The skin warm beneath, where he’s already begun. Ten, placed swiftly.

Resisting the urge to twist his wrist once more. Let his fingers drift against your seam, knowing they’d come back slick. Tilt his head down enough to drag his tongue against the glossy ring of condensation left against your skin.

But, you’d never learn that way.

“Good,” He rasps, “Gonna finish them out.”

Fingers curling, unable to help the slightest squeeze. You clench with your sigh, his thumb stroking skin just above where your leggings are tugged down, framing the pretty curve of your ass.

“Not gonna take it easy on you, just ‘cause you said yes.”

You nod. An arch to your back, as you breathe out a, “Thank you.”

His jaw ticks. A curse bitten back as his cock throbs, where it presses against his trousers - your hip rubbing against him each time you jolt forward.

It’s enough that his hand is swinging again. A sharp crack, punctuated by the gasp as the air is pushed from your lungs.

“Count ‘em, sweetheart.”

“Five.” You pant.

Then four. Then three, two. One.

Logan’s rougher than he needs to be. A real cry pulled on the last one, a punctuation to the lesson he’s certain you won’t soon forget.

Your thighs flex, where you’re bend over his knees. Eyes half-lidded and tear-rimmed, when your head turns - cheek pressed against a thigh.

His own admiring his work. Unable to help the drift of his hand, now. Thumb denting your skin, tugging.

“Please.” You squirm - always wanting, “Logan-”

His own name, whined out. None of the pretty names you call him, dripping with submission. Forgetting yourself with your need, and it does something to him.

He sinks into heat. Two fingers tucked together, burying between your slick thighs. Feeling how you give around him, a pitched-high moan that has the edge of his lips twitching.

Giving you what you need, once more. A reward, for how well you took him.

Because along with the rest -

Maybe he’s grown a little less patient over the years, as well.

thank you so much for reading! 💕

[foodtruckery]

I've been having crazy Stancest brain rot thinking about an AU where they don't have the portal incident and instead have crazy marathon hate sex instead (Inspired by some amazing art by @CoreArde on Twitter) and I thought it'd be fun to share that with you.

They start off arguing in the lab and then oops they're fucking on the lab floor, and they really should be thinking this through but nope now they're upstairs fucking on the kitchen table and okay maybe now they'll finally talk about it nah, they're fucking in Ford's bed now.

It starts off as rough hate sex getting out years of frustration, but by the time they make it to the kitchen its become insanely desperate and cloying because they missed each other, and their bodies fit so well together, and GOD how could they have not been doing this all time? They're going at it so long that they basically end up passed out in Ford's bed by the end, and Stan's not going to be sitting down for a while after this. He's probably just happy to be sleeping in a bed, but Ford is trying to figure out how he got so far from the initial plan.

Even better if the two of them have been harboring feelings for years and never acted on it, because they get the one-two punch of all the weight of their time apart and processing the fact that OH GOD I JUST FUCKED MY BROTHER (which of course they both wanted to do but still).

I have no idea what would happen after that, but both of them waking up sore, sweat soaked, sticky with cum (some still inside Stan because of course Ford didn't use a condom this wasn't supposed to happen) after having gone at each other like rabbits in heat despite never having expressed their attraction to each other before is a hilarious and hot idea to me. What do you think?

HI THERE ANON. i am so fucking sorry that i left you waiting for so long about this, but i need you to know it's because i was FUCKING OBSESSED with this. like just absolutely beside myself over it, and i refused to respond until i had a chance to sit down and respond PROPERLY.

cause uh YEAH FRIEND i know the exact fucking piece of art (explicit) you're talking about, because it's INCREDIBLE. and in case you didn't know, the artist is over here too and shares some fucking fantastic writing and headcanons also! (seriously, go check out @/cartoonsinthemorning if you haven't. and cart, i hope you don't mind that anon and i both kinda lost our minds about your art over here! i genuinely have no idea what tag etiquette is on this site and didn't wanna bombard you, but you did this. again.)

i'll be honest, anon, this kinda got away from me (fucking shocker) and i am too tired to do any legit editing of it right now, so please forgive any typos or weirdness! i'll try and clean it up before it eventually goes up on ao3. but thank you for such a LOVELY ask because this was so hot, and so inspiring, and i hope i did a little justice to your idea and cart's gorgeous art!

--- Ford isn't entirely sure how it had started. His memory, his perception of time, his ability to follow a linear order of events -- all if it is less than reliable at the moment, so he can't entirely blame himself for losing track of things here and there. But the jump between trying to wrestle his journal out of Stan's hands to trying to wrestle Stan out of his dingey jeans is a jarring transition to lose in the dull static that's been edging around his awareness for weeks now. 

Not jarring enough to stop him, though. 

He thinks, vaguely, while he's blindly tugging at Stan's denim, that there's a concerningly high likelihood that he's hallucinating. His head is swimming in so much caffeine and adrenaline that he doesn't even feel the rough concrete of the lab floor under his knees -- maybe that isn't where he is? Maybe he'd nodded off without realizing. Maybe he's going to come to with another lapful of polaroids and a new humiliating tattoo. 

Maybe, maybe, maybe -- he can reckon with a probability model later. For the first time in what feels like months, the stability of his perceived reality is not actually at the forefront of Ford's mind.

Pressing in on him harder than the doubt, harder than the disassociation from his physical body, and harder than the threat of the creature lingering in the depths of his subconscious is anger. It feels like a beacon in the muddled, fuzzy mess inside his head, something bright and real and his. It's searing through him, slicing away all the frayed edges of his paranoia and doubt like a hot blade through so much butter. 

Ford clings to the sharp edges of that anger and feels more alert than he has in weeks. 

He can't remember how their bickering had taken this particular turn, but if he's liable to lose his eyes and his life in the next few days, Ford will be fucking damned if he squanders the opportunity. He knows he's made a mess of things, that he's made the sorts of mistakes that can't and frankly shouldn't be forgiven. 

But he also knows with blinding, white hot certainty that he's only here, now, because of Stan's mistakes.

Ford may not deserve absolution, but he does deserves this. 

Laughter cuts through the lab, rough and mocking, and Ford's attention finally falls, properly, on Stan. He has a bruise blooming on his cheek and a snide smirk twisting his lips. He's also on his back, his jeans and a threadbare pair of boxers bunched in Ford's fists and pulled so low he can see the tight curls of his pubic hair and the root of his cock. 

"What's wrong, Poindexter?" Stan asks, mocking, and it's only then that Ford realizes he's paused halfway through stripping his twin's lower half. The bite of the cold concrete under his knees still feels far away, but the rough material in his palms, and the heat of Stan's body so close to him are sharp, clear details. "No hands on experience with a dick that ain't your own? Afraid you might actually be bad at somethin' for once?" 

Ford narrows his eyes, feeling the hot point of anger cutting through him, steadying him, and he jerks Stan's clothes hard enough that he gets the material past his knees in one tug. Stan laughs at him again, but it stutters into a little 'oof!' when Ford flips him onto his stomach. 

He doesn't care that Stan's pants are still caught around his calves and his boots. He doesn't care that Stan hisses something that sounds like pain when he's yanked onto his knees and dragged backwards several inches across the concrete. He doesn't even care that, once upon a time, he'd dreamed of this, of crossing this line with the only person he'd ever really loved in any way that mattered, and it's nothing like the softer, sweeter picture he used to imagine. 

Stan's hips are soft, and the skin gives easily under the iron grip Ford has on them, holding him in place as he grinds against his ass. Even through his slacks, the heat of Stan's body is intense, addictive, and he grinds forward again, harder, watching the friction rub a pink  patch against his skin. 

Stan, shameless and selfish as always, pushes eagerly back against him. Ford has barely done anything beyond rocking the outline of his cock against his hole, but he can hear Stan panting against the ground, can see his hands curling into fists. He remembers how many times Stan had called Carla McCorkle "easy" in high school and thinks, now, that the easy one had been his brother. 

"You gonna keep humpin' me, or are you gonna fuck me?" Stan demands, rocking as firmly back as he can with the bruising grip Ford has on him. 

"What makes you think you deserve that?" Ford bites out. It would serve Stan right, he thinks, if he got himself off exactly like this, no different than grinding against a particularly firm couch pillow. Just a conveniently warm object for Ford to release some tension with. 

Stan looks back over his shoulder and flashes teeth at him. It isn't a smile. "Oh, I get it. Cold feet? Well, we can just chalk it up to one more thing ya promised and then backed out of as soon as you actually had to make a choice. Good to know some things never change, Stanford."

He's being goaded, and Ford knows that. But the anger boils in his chest, and he thinks, why should he care about what Stan does or doesn't deserve from him? This is about what Ford deserves.

And what Ford deserves is to have his dick so far up Stan's ass he'll be able to feel it in the back of his throat. 

"Do you ever shut up?" he snaps while he releases one of Stan's hips to yank his slacks open. The bruise of his fingerprints already forming against Stan's skin thrills him, almost to distraction, if it weren't for Stan laughing again. 

"'Course not," he says, shifting his center of balance to dig into the pocket of his dirty red coat. The little packet he tosses over his shoulder bounces off his own ass to land by Ford's knee, the word LUBE printed in large, bold letters across the front. He should be surprised to see it, and part of him is. The word "easy" comes to mind again. 

Ford rips the packet open with his teeth. 

"F-Fuck!" Stan curses, turning his forehead against the ground when Ford presses his slick cock into him a moment later without warning. 

Ford grabs him roughly by the waist when he twitches forward and yanks Stan back until his ass hits the open fly of his slacks. He makes a choked sound at that and turns his face into the crook of his own arm when Ford pulls back and rocks hard back into him. 

"What's wrong, Stanley?" he parrots. He pistons his hips at a punishing pace, watching his cock pumping in and out of the greedy, grasping ring of Stan's hole. "Nothing to say?" 

Stan makes a noise that's too muffled by the sleeve of his coat to understand, so Ford reaches down to take a fistful of his stupid mullet instead. The hitching gasp that escapes his twin when his head is forcefully jerked up makes him groan. "What was that? Come on, Stanley, use your words." 

"F-Fuck off," Stan says, his voice strained, almost whining. 

"I see you haven't gotten anymore eloquent since you left," Ford scoffs around the breathlessness in his own voice, feeling the anger and pleasure coiling harder in his gut. "What was it you said? Good to know some things never change." 

When he pulls Stan's hair again, just because he can, Stan moans. And when he shifts his hips, driving in just as hard at the new angle, Stan shouts. With his own knees bracketed on either side of his, Ford can feel the way his thighs tremble when he clenches around his cock, and he can feel the sweat beading up under his palm where he's digging darker bruises into Stan's side. 

Ford feels like he's on the edge of delirium again, consumed by every sound Stan makes, every twitch of his hips, every ounce of his heat. He thinks, a bit wildly, that Stan may have been made for this, made to take his cock, for how well he does. 

It isn't until Stan jerks under him, going hot and tight around his cock and making a strangled noise in the back of his throat, that Ford realizes he may have said part of that out loud. That Stan came over it. 

He groans low in his throat and thrusts half a dozen more times into Stan's clenching hole before he comes as well. 

It's quiet for a few minutes other than their ragged panting, but it's Stan who eventually reaches back and swats at Ford's hand until he lets go of his hair. He takes the hint and pulls out, watching with no small amount of satisfaction as his come trickles down Stan's thighs. It strikes him suddenly that he wants to follow the wet trail back up with his tongue. It's enough to make his cock give a feeble, appreciative twitch. 

He isn't sure if he's just terribly distracted or if he loses time again, because when Ford next lifts his head, Stan is on his feet, pants pulled up around his waist but still open, and he has his journal in hand. This might be more jarring than the last transition he'd lost. 

"What are you doing?" he demands, shoving himself back onto his own feet. He doesn't bother to tuck his cock back in, and he spots the moment Stan's eyes flick down. It's brief, but he'd seen it. 

"What does it fucking look like I'm doing? I'm taking your stupid diary and disappearing like you begged me to," Stan says. His voice is still a little raw, and Ford has a moment to realize how much he likes that, before the words catch up. 

He scoffs. "Oh! So now you want to actually help?! Is it always this easy to fuck the sense into you?" 

Stan's expression does a few things Ford doesn't understand before his brows ultimately slam down and he turns his back, storming towards the door with Ford's journal still in hand, and Ford himself hot on his heels. "You're fucking unbelievable, Stanford, you know that?!" 

"Me?! You're the one who came all over my lab floor and then decided he was ready to be reasonable!" 

Stan jams his thumb against the call button for the elevator several times in quick succession, despite the car already being on their floor and the gate sliding open. "Most people would just say thank you when someone agreed to help them out, but not you! What does Stanford Pines have to be grateful for? We're all just fucking lucky to get a task from ya, huh?" 

Ford crowds into the elevator with him before Stan can try to pull the gate or call the doors shut behind him. He punches the button to take them up himself, before making a grab for the journal, snarling when Stan leans back and holds it up above his head. 

"You're the one who threatened to destroy my work twenty minutes ago, Stanley! Why would I trust you with it now? Hell, I can't figure out why I trusted you enough to bring you here in the first place!" 

"Oh really? You can't?" Stan sneers, leaning in close. And when Ford takes a step back, Stan follows, backing him into a corner of the car. "I don't think you fuckin' trusted me to do shit, Stanford. I think you were all outta options cause nobody else could stand to put up with you anymore." 

Stan doesn't so much as hit a nerve as he takes a sledgehammer to it, and as soon as the elevator dings, Ford shoves him as hard as he can out into the study. Stan yelps when he stumbles, nearly tripping over his own feet, and it's only knocking into a cluttered desk that keeps him from falling on his ass. 

Ford doesn't give him any time to right himself, storming in after him and grabbing him by the front of his jacket. Stan flinches, like he'ex expecting a punch, but Ford yanks him in and crushes his mouth against his instead. 

There's a dull thump that Ford only realizes was the journal being dropped when he feels both of Stan's hands on his shoulders. They curl briefly, grasping at him, and Ford feels his mouth starting to go soft and slack. But as soon as he presses in, runs his tongue along that loosening seam, he's suddenly being shoved backwards. 

If he weren't so damn confused, Ford would probably appreciate the picture Stan makes, lips slick and pants open, leaning back against one of Ford's desks. 

"What are you doing?!" Stan demands, like he's the one who doesn't know what day it is, and keeps losing track of events. 

"I would think even you could figure that out after what happened downstairs, Stanley."

Stan flushes, visible even in the low light of the study, though Ford isn't sure if it's embarrassment or anger. The scowl on his face doesn't help clear things up, either, though the fact that he isn't actually looking at Ford is...telling.  

"That ain't happening again," Stan states, and there isn't anything convincing about the way he says it at all. But when Ford steps forward, Stan sidesteps him and the desk. He makes a wrong turn in the dark, in a house he isn't familiar with, and flinches when Ford flips on the light in the kitchen he's walked into.

"I don't know how you expect to leave and hide my journal after leaving it in the study," he points out, frowning at the back of Stan's head. 

He isn't surprised when Stan whirls on him. He is, however, stunned still when he realizes Stan's eyes are wet. 

"What the fuck do you want from me, Stanford?!" Stan shouts, his voice cracking over his name, and it makes something feel like it's cracking inside his chest. 

Ford has to wet his lips when he finds them and his throat dry. "...I told you what I wanted," he says.

"Yeah, you did! And when I finally agreed to do it, you threw a fucking fit about it! And now you're pissy because I'm not?! What do you want?" 

The anger sparks sharply inside him again, and Ford grasps at it like a lifeline, willing to bloody his hands for that bite of stability. 

"You tried to burn it! My life's work! And you only decided you would help me after we--"

Stan cuts him off, looking towards the cabinets while he raises his voice and waves his hands. "Jesus Christ, I'm sorry about the fucking lighter, all right?!"

Ford frowns. He takes a step forward and, still without looking at him, Stan takes a step back. It's the elevator all over again, but this time Ford is pressing in, backing Stan into the cabinets. He grabs the counter on either side of his hips when he tries to side step him again. 

"Stanley, look at me," he demands, frowning harder when Stan sets his jaw and stars determinedly at his shoulder. "Stanley--"

"What do you want, Ford? Just...just fucking tell me and I'll leave, all right?" Stan says, his voice tired and soft as he reaches up to rub a hand over his own face.

He wants a lot, honestly. And hasn't that always been the problem? He's always wanted -- to be normal, to be respected, to be the best, to be special. 

To be wanted. 

To be enough.

To fix things. 

"You," he realizes, watching Stan jerk his head up. His lashes are still wet, and Ford can't stop himself from reaching up and pressing his palm to Stan's cheek, skimming his thumb gently under one of his eyes. 

When he leans in to kiss him again, Stan makes a small, wounded little noise under his mouth, but he parts his lips for Ford's tongue this time. Stan's lips are chapped and he tastes vaguely of stale cigarettes, but Ford is still struck by how soft and sweet he is. 

More than anything else that had happened that evening, this is the moment that Ford knows he should suspect most of all. The way Stan relaxes between him and the counter, the almost tentative way he lifts his tongue to meet his, the careful fingertips touching the edge of Ford's coat and brushing against his loose tie. It's tender in a way Ford didn't think either of them were capable of, and it should be setting off warning bells and red flags in every part of his mind. 

It isn't. 

Ford is more certain of  the reality of this single moment, the gentle slip of Stan's lips against his own, than he's been of anything in a long time. 

And then Stan sighs between them and murmurs, warm and hopeful, "Ford," against his lips, and he's done for. 

It doesn't matter that they just fucked, that Ford's come is probably still drying between Stan's thighs -- he can't keep his hands off of him. Ford is suddenly frantic and desperate in a way that he hadn't been downstairs. He needs to relearn the new, wider shape of Stan's shoulders and pecs. He needs to feel out every new scar and take stock of all the old ones he remembers Stan collecting for him as kids. He needs to be surrounded by him again, soaking in the warmth of him. 

Ford doesn't deserve absolution, but he thinks he may be able to find something close to it in the low, shaky way Stan moans his name. 

And there's familiarity in the way Stan grabs at him in turn, tugging at his jacket and tie and surging into another, harder kiss. Ford thinks he may not be the only one looking for expiation. 

Then Stan drops to his knees between him and the cabinet, and Ford stops thinking so much. His cock is still out, and Stan wastes no time in getting his fist around the shaft and his lips around the head. He suckles and swirls his tongue, and Ford shoves the beanie off of his head to get his hands in his hair. 

"Stanley," he gasps, stroking his fingers along his scalp and fisting the strands between them. 

Stan moans around him and shuffles closer, sliding the seal of his lips further down the length of Ford's cock. All he can do is groan and try to keep from rocking his hips as more of him is greeted by the warmth of his mouth and the wickedness of his tongue. 

He keeps waiting for Stan to reach his limit, to back off and give himself room to breathe. He doesn't. He keeps leaning in, keeps taking him, and then Ford feels his cockhead slip into Stan's throat, sees his lashes are wet again, and he has to put one hand on the counter to keep himself steady. "Fuck, Stanley, you're so good at this."

Stan makes a horribly sweet sound around the girth of Ford's cock and reaches up to hold his hips as he swallows, and Ford is suddenly afraid he's going to embarass himself.  His hips twitch despite his best efforts to keep them still, but Stan simply relaxes his jaw and his throat and tugs a little to encourage him to do it again. He does, of course, how could he not? 

Despite the heat clawing its way through him and the pleasure mounting dangerously high, Ford almost feels outside of himself again. The picture Stan makes, with his eyes damp and heavy lidded, his lips wet and stretched around Ford's cock, his hair fisted in Ford's fingers and his own clinging to Ford's hips -- it's lewd, debauched, and so horribly sweet that it makes Ford's chest hurt. 

Stan gasps raggedly when Ford pulls him off. "I was go-gonna...I mean you can--"

Ford kneels down to kiss him, tasting stale cigarettes and himself, cock throbbing over the rough state of Stan's voice. "Not done yet," he manages, before tugging Stan onto his feet. 

They lose clothes and time on the journey upstairs, tripping over the steps and Ford's discarded pants, and stumbling into his wreck of a room. If Stan notices the state of things, he doesn't comment, mouth latched onto Ford's shoulder and hands all over his back and hips. 

The back of Ford's legs hit the bed and he sits hard on the mattress. Stan doesn't hesitate to crawl up into his lap. He'd lost his boots in the kitchen and his jeans and boxers somewhere on the way to the stairs, giving him ample opportunity to rub his bare cock against Ford's. 

Cursing, Ford rolls his hips and only belatedly remembers to reach up and tug the hideous red coat off of Stan's shoulders. 

"Oh, fuck, hold on. I think I have another one," Stan says, panting softly as he digs into the pockets of his coat. Ford takes the opportunity to run his hands across Stan's thighs and ass, squeezing whatever skin he can until Stan makes a triumphant sound and pulls another little packet of lube free. 

Only then does he let Ford toss his jacket aside and tug him further up the bed with him. He doesn't protest when Ford takes the packet from him, lowering his head to work open mouth kisses up Ford's throat instead, and he rolls his hips distractingly while Ford fights to get the damnable thing open. He ignores the snickering against his skin in the process. 

It stops anyway, hitching into something warm and startled when Ford sinks two slick fingers into him. 

"Oh, fuck," Stan breaths, reaching up to grab Ford by the shoulder, holding himself steady. "Y-You know you don't have to do that, right? Pretty loosened up already."

He is, to be fair. His hole is still soft and loose and fucked open. But Ford enjoys petting his fingers against the tender muscle and stroking them inside anyway. He likes watching Stan bite his lip and push himself back onto his hand. When he slides a third in after the first two, Stan's thighs tremble on either side of his own, and he makes a low, throaty sound. 

When Ford curls his fingers just right, Stan yells and grips his shoulder hard enough to hurt, and it makes warm satisfaction curl in his middle. So he does it a few more times, alternating between spreading his fingers and rubbing the tips against Stan's prostate until he's squirming in his lap. 

"I-I'm gonna come if you don't knock that sh-shit off," he gasps, slumping a bit when Ford chuckles and slides his fingers out. 

"I think I'd like that," Ford says, squeezing his slick fingers against Stan's thigh. 

He snorts and straightens back up, finding the discarded lube packet to squirt the remainder onto Ford's cock. "Yeah, I bet you fucking would," Stan agrees, but there's no malice in his voice, just warm amusement. 

His fist is warm and wonderful when it curls around Ford's cock, spreading lube, and then Ford is being held steady, Stan adjusts himself on his scuffed knees, and there's nothing else to do but hold on as Stan lowers himself into his lap. 

It feels as good as it had earlier to be inside of him, and Ford squeezes the thigh under his hand tightly, fighting against the need to buck his hips. Stan is panting softly, his head tilted back and a pretty, pink color is crawling up from under his t-shirt to flood his neck and face. 

Ford groans and leans forward, finding a nipple through his thin shirt to get his teeth and tongue against.

"F-Ford!" Stan gasps, fumbling the hand not clawing at his shoulder up into his hair, and Ford sucks hard on the firm nub,  rubbing spit-soaked cotton against it with his tongue until Stan rocks in his lap. 

Fuck, he likes that, the way his name sounds in Stan's voice, especially warm and rough after fucking his throat earlier. 

He squeezes Stan's thigh and his hip, giving him a little tug, and that's all the encouragement Stan needs before he's bouncing on his cock. Ford has that thought again -- that Stan was meant to be filled by him, that they're a perfectly matched set. But it isn't just feeling good and hot while Stan fucks himself in his lap. It's feeling like he's been missing something and he finally has it, like he's finally complete again. 

He's missed this, Ford realizes. 

Not the fucking his brother part. He'd fantasized about that for years but it still feels like a dream that it's happening, like something that's too good to be true. 

But being able to put his arms around him? To be this close to him again? 

Ford rocks his hips up, hard, and Stan says his name. He wraps his fingers around Stan's cock, and he gasps his name. He bites the same swollen, pink nipple through his shirt, and Stan shouts his name. 

He snaps his hips up to meet him a few more times and rubs the sensitive glans under the head of Stan's cock, and then there are teeth digging into his other shoulder and his fist and stomach are being striped in Stan's come while he shudders and jerks overtop of him. 

Stan goes easily when Ford rolls them over and pins one of his wrists to the bed. And despite the way he squirms and how his spent cock twitches and leaks, blatantly overstimulated, he hooks his ankles behind Ford's back and urges him on. 

"C-C'mon, give it to me. Fuck, just like that, Sixer!" 

The nickname hits him with all the subtlety of a truck and all the heat of a volcanic eruption. 

He doesn't even remember coming so much as he remembers every synapses in his brain trying to fire at once. Coming back down to reality is a little clearer, with his head spinning and pulse racing as he flops onto his back, but it still takes several long minutes before he feels fully cognizant again. 

Something makes the bed shift, and he looks over to see that Stan has rolled onto his stomach. Ford wonders if he looks half as fucked out as Stan does, with bruises blossoming across his body, his shirt rucked halfway up his stomach, and come staining his ass and thighs. Ford realizes Stan still has his socks on, and he can't figure out why that makes something twinge, hot but exhausted and halfhearted, in his gut. 

"Gonna...gonna get up in a minute," Stan says, his voice slurring and his eyes already closed. Ford watches him rub his cheek against one of Ford's pillows, and the soft sound of snoring follows soon after. 

The reality of the situation starts to settle in shortly after that, and Ford stares wide eyed up at the ceiling as if he'll find some sort of answers there. Unsurprisingly, there are no secrets etched overhead for how to reckon with the fact that he had just fucked his brother, twice, while the fate of the world was still very much hanging in the balance between his fraying sanity and Bill's looming threat. 

".....Fuck," Ford murmurs.

When the adrenaline finishes seeping out of his system, Ford expects to crash. The exhaustion certainly climbs back into his bones, but he's surprised to find himself still clear headed. Focused. 

The sound of Stan sleeping soundly beside him is as soothing as it is mocking, but he doesn't want to separate himself from it even though he knows he needs to get up. There's soft, gray light starting to creep in through the windows, and distant birdsong calling for the start of the day. He needs to readjust, to come up with a new plan, find some way to explain to Stan what's going on so they can buy themselves a little more time. 

Against all odds and his better judgment, there's a tiny, optimistic voice in the back of his head reminding him that there's strength in numbers. He isn't surprised that it sounds like Stan.

[straightforpotter]

So I’ve started writing a fic where it’s going to follow James and regulus falling in love but only there nights in the astronomy tower, I don’t know if I’m going to upload it to ao3 yet so I thought I’d test it out here first, also I haven’t edited it or anything to if there’s spelling mistakes or grammar mistakes or anything no there isn’t, here’s the first chapter

Regulus sat on the ledge in the astronomy tower with his feet dangling over the edge, he was content here, he always felt content when looking at the stars.

He found Sirius first, he always found Sirius first, he knew the sky like the back of his hand and he knew exactly where to find Sirius. He took a deep breath in, held it and released it, his brother always brought up a range of different emotions staring at sadness all the way to a full rage and he didn’t have the energy to deal with that tonight.

He was just about to take another breath when he heard to door open, he held his breath begging it to be someone at least slightly tolerable but he didn’t have such luck because none other than James potter walked through the door.

“Oh sorry I didn’t realise anyone was up here” James smiled sheepishly

“Clearly” Regulus scowled

James walked further in and sat down beside Regulus

“What are you doing?” Regulus snapped

“I’m sitting,” James replied with a grin that could brighten the whole world

Looking at James felt the same as looking directly at the sun, it was beautiful and you wanted to look but look for to long and you damage your eyes, Regulus wasn’t about to let himself be any more damaged than he already was.

“Why?” Asked Regulus

“Well I came up here to look at the stars and the best way to look at them is to sit here” James’ smile never faulted, it stuck like a piece of gum at the bottom of your shoe but that was James potter wasn’t it, a piece of gum stuck to the bottom of your shoe, you can never seem to get rid of him.

“Ok well be quiet” Regulus sighed in defeat

“That I can do” James replied

They sat in silence for about fifteen minutes before James started tapping his foot against the wall below them

“Potter” Regulus snapped

“I thought you wanted silence” James smirked

“It’s a bit hard to have silence when your foot won’t stop banging on the wall” Regulus snarled

“Oh right, sorry: James replied sheepishly

They sat in silence for another twenty minutes before James started tapping his hand on the metal railing in front of them

“Potter I swear to Salazar” Regulus fumed

“What am I doing now” James whined

“The tapping, stop it” Regulus spat

James stopped and they sat in silence for the next ten minutes before James started humming

“Potter!” Regulus yelled

“Are you obsessed with me or something” James laughed

Regulus groaned and put his head in his hands

“You really are insufferable, do you know that?” Regulus groaned

James merely smiled that dazzling smile of his and jumped up onto the ledge

“What are you doing” Regulus asked

“Come up here with me” James responded

“No thanks I don’t have a death wish” Regulus drawled

James jumped back down and did a little spin, it took every inch of Regulus self control not to laugh, he was not about to give James potter the satisfaction of making him laugh.

“Dance with me Regulus” James whispered

“Are you insane, what single part of this interaction has made you think I’d dance with you” Regulus uttered.

James then continued to dance around the astronomy tower, he was flailing all his limbs around without a care in the world, he looked a bit like a spider with all his limbs moving so fast it looked like there were double.

Before Regulus could help it a giggle bubbled up out of him, he slapped his hand over his mouth to hide it but the damage was done, James had heard it and he stood staring at Regulus with an awestruck expression on his face.

“Do it again,” James begged

“Not if my life depended on it” Regulus bit back before standing and storming out of the astronomy tower and back to bed.

[ryuichirou]

How do the twst girlies behave in regards to their partners tits?

Thank you! For asking! Important questions! Anon! Yes! 💪💪💪

I wanted to compile this list with some others girlie-related asks, but let’s be honest, I am too slow for that, so it’s better to give you this list today and to tease that I have at least two other genderswap hcs in the process of writing.

There are some other hcs that I should’ve prioritised, but today my soul craved some girlies, so I gave in.

Riddle – somewhere deep inside her heart this girl is a little boob-obsessed. The more she thinks she doesn’t care, the more she cares and catches herself staring. But is it her that keeps running into boobs or the boobs that keep following her everywhere? Somehow she always ends up bumping into someone else’s huge breasts with her face… In terms of intimacy, I think Riddle would be too shy to do anything at first, but as she gets more comfortable (or just horny enough to stop thinking), she’d really want to touch them. Maybe even kiss them. Maybe even suck on them a little bit (Floyd would find it weird; Trey would too but also endearing in a way). Freud has a lot to say about Riddle.

Ace – she does a lot of “playful” touching, like poking it, pinching it, doing the “honk honk”. Deuce gets so angry and embarrassed that there is no way Ace would stop doing that anytime soon. She says that it’s a neutral “no homo” type of thing, but somehow she only does it with Deuce… Whenever they’re intimate, I think Ace spends a lot of time touching her boobs, she clearly loves them; even though if Deuce was to cover herself in a locker room, Ace would roll her eyes and say “we literally have the same boobs, don’t even bother covering them”.

Deuce – she is not obsessed with boobs, even though sometimes she wants to avenge herself by grabbing Ace’s. But also, bigger boobs make her blush for some reason. When they are so big that they’re impossible to ignore, she gets a bit nervous that it’d look like she’s staring… So she actually averts her eyes a lot, especially with people like Trey or, of course, Jack. She tries not to look at Jack when they run together because she starts staring at her heavy boobs jumping up and down and forgets how to run. She gets wet dreams about them sometimes, which kind of makes her sound more obsessed than Ace lol

Trey – ah yes, the one that works with dough all the time. Trey hands are both gentle and strong, and despite being somewhat wishy-washy in a lot of other areas of life, when it comes to touching boobs, Trey is very confident and almost does it without thinking. But she is still very attentive to the reactions of her lover, so she would know how and where exactly to touch. There is a rumor that a girl could cum with Trey just touching her boobs, but is it really true? Trey would say that of course it’s not , but can we really trust her? She also loves smaller boobs, and the majority of girls she’s ever been attracted to were petite in this area. She would treat Riddle’s like tender little berries…

Cater – she is not as obsessed as all the previous ones, but she acts pretty cute about it. I feel like she is the type to take cute pictures of herself pressing her cheek against her lover’s tit, or cover only the nipple with her fingers or a sticker; a lot of cheeky playful stuff. She also kisses a lot and loves leaving marks – those are pretty cammable too! Even though none of those pictures would go on the internet of course.

Leona – she is a pillow princess for the most part, and she acts like she doesn’t care about anything related to her partner’s physique at all, but big boobs make her think of Falena’s large honkers, so she actually enjoys Ruggie having tiny ones. She doesn’t do anything about them though and barely even comments on them, but there was one time when she fell asleep with her lips pressing against Ruggie’s boob like it’s a tiny pillow just for her mouth and chin. And the rest of her pose looked pretty uncomfortable, so it felt very intentional.

Ruggie – she doesn’t care all that much, to be honest. She knows how to pleasure a girl though, so she is pretty good at playing with boobs. She likes squeezing the nipples between her fingers and pulling on them, and diving deep into huge boobs with her fingers also feels pretty nice. She gets into it during the process I guess, especially with Leona’s size and shape. But when she isn’t aroused, she is just too used to seeing Leona sleeping in random places and random poses, a lot of times either bra-less or straight-up with some part of her tit out. Can’t lose your head over this – she’d stay headless at all times.

Jack – she bites. She tries to be more gentle and to suck and kiss instead, but the moment she feels the warm soft flesh against her teeth, she can’t help it and starts nibbing. This is why she tries not to get close to this area with her mouth in general, but that always results in her drooling pretty badly, which results in her wanting to hide her face, which results in her pushing her mouth against Deuce’s boobs again...  And with Vil, who is smaller than Deuce, Jack would lift it with her big tongue and put it in her mouth entirely. Actually, she is usually surprisingly okay with keeping it together, but when she actually sees naked breasts, it’s like something activates in her brain.

Azul – she also bites… When she gets too aroused, of course. Sometimes it’s because she is pissed off and horny at the same time, sometimes her being playful and “dangerous”. In general though, she doesn’t care about boobs too much, and she absolutely doesn’t care about big boobs – she doesn’t even consider it something that could be hot to her personally. With the smaller ones that are so unlike hers and the tweels, sometimes they make her react unexpectedly even to her.  Biting is one example lol But she also rubs them gently, talks about them being so cute and small, almost cooing but still being very condescending somehow. Azul is a bitch, huh. Oh, and when she is in her mermaid form, her tentacles are all over poor Idia’s or Jamil’s tiddies, she sucks them right in and squeezes them brutally, leaving a lot of nasty bright marks.

Jade – nipple torture. I mean. Sometimes. She loves doing stuff that would make it change it size and shape. Anything that would make it puffier, anything that pumps it, makes it longer, makes the bead more visible. She could do it by either rubbing them in a very specific way or with the help of mushrooms, potion injections, needles and other stuff. Sometimes she looks at people in the locker room and thinks who would be the perfect victim… Idia is a good option in terms of physical aspects... Other than that, Jade isn’t really into boobs.

Floyd – if there is a thing one could do to a boob, Floyd does it. She does everything. She loves putting an entire boob in her mouth and playing with it, she loves almost torturing boobs with her hands, loves squeezing them really hard, slapping them lightly, anything that could ever come to her mind. She loves all the sizes, but Riddle’s boobies feel unique because she doesn’t usually get to see someone who is this flat. One time she rubbed Riddle’s nipples through the clothes so hard that Riddle’s knees started visibly shaking… Idia is also flat, but a bit perkier, so Floyd prefers to tug on hers instead of rubbing them in. She could play with boobs for hours, it’s not even about pleasuring the girl to her sometimes, it’s just like a very fun toy <3

Kalim – it feels like she doesn’t care, but she does. She isn’t as invasive as Floyd, but she touches a lot, it just doesn’t feel sexual a lot of times, like she is genuinely just that physical. There are times though when she looks Jamil in the eyes and then looks down at her breasts and caresses them very carefully, as if admiring them, but not really knowing how to touch them. And sometimes she stares at Jamil’s breasts when they bathe together, and it makes Jamil want to cover herself, even though they’ve been comfortable around each other naked all the time ever since they were kids. Something is cooking inside Kalim’s brain…

Jamil – she wouldn’t touch Kalim at all in that way even if they were intimate, for a lot of reasons including because she feels like she isn’t supposed to. But when boobs bounce in her face, she really wants to grab them sometimes. And it might seem aggressive, but maybe she genuinely likes it when they bounce… She would be very grabby with Azul’s breasts if they were intimate, and would say that this is because her tits piss her off, and the way Jamil squeezes her teeth make it seem like she just wants to bite them off sometimes. But maybe it just means that she wants to suffocate herself with them… she is conflicted but she certainly isn’t uninterested.

Vil – Rook’s big boobs are a big source of comfort for her; when they were freshmen she used to put her face down here and muffle her frustrated moans with them whenever she would get angry. She thinks that it’s kind of childish now, but every now and then, when the stress overwhelmed her and Rook welcomes her open arms, Vil sighs and does it again. It ruins both Rook’s shirt and Vil’s makeup, so it’s better to do it at the end of the day. In a sexual setting though, she touches them, but not excessively, she’s mostly teasing Rook who doesn’t really like being touched too much. Still, she finds her breasts beautiful and hot.

Rook – a serial boob grabber. She is one of the biggest boob lovers of the cast; whenever she sees a pair of boobs, her hands move involuntarily, forming a perfect cupping position for this exact size and shape. She loves any kind of boob and sees beauty in all of them, so whoever she is with would experience… a lot. If she wasn’t pacified by Vil, her feral ass would’ve touched everyone’s boobs instead of saying hi, just because she can’t help herself. Speaking of Vil, other than writing poems about her beautiful snowy mounds with sun-kissed pinkish tips, she does all kinds of things with her boobs. She loves playing with them with her fingers, rubbing them, kissing them and especially leaving a lot of hickeys on them. One time she did it before Vil’s big swimsuit photoshoot and got in big trouble for that…

Epel – now this is someone who would enjoy screaming into the boobs to relieve her anger, and if Vil is feeling generous, she would allow Epel to do it with Rook one time lol But other than that, she stares at the bigger girls’ boobs for the most part. She thinks that this is out of pity because she can’t think of a worse fate than having large breasts, but nah, she just likes staring at them. Being a country girl, she feels the appeal on a very deep level; maybe Freud would have something to say about her as well. But then he would see Epel suddenly biting into Floyd’s huge tit (it’s because Floyd teased her!) and shut the fuck up.

Idia – it’s not like she is super interested or something, but… she finds big boobs so unusual and weird, as if sometimes she forgets that this isn’t just something that was invented by eroge. So naturally, she wants to squeeze them every now and then, but only when they hang out with Azul for a long period of time. And it’s always very sudden for Azul because Idia just hugs her from behind sometimes, squeezes them and instantly leaves, losing interest. Maybe one day she’ll get into it enough to touch them more or to bury her face in them or even bite (as if Azul would allow any of that), but for now she just randomly attacks Azul’s boobs and goes away to reflect on how heavy they are and how they don’t fit in her pretty big hands. With the Tweels though, the boobs are so huge that Idia gets completely overwhelmed. She wouldn’t dare to touch them… She could touch Sebek though, but once again, only under very specific circumstances! With Lilia’s boobs however, she doesn’t care at all – both are flat, so there is nothing but a feeling of solidarity there…

Ortho – as always, Ortho’s approach is somewhat scientific! She is very intrigued by boobs, and wants to learn more about how to interact with them in a way that would be pleasurable. She tried out different covers for her hands to make them softer and warmer for when she plays with them, but she also added some suction thingies for other kinds of stimulation… and was so confused when Idia said to her that this kind of shit only appears in hentai and doesn’t work irl. Weird, Vil-san seemed to enjoy it… Vil could be a huge help in general because Ortho really wants to crack the code of what to do to make Idia enjoy having her boobies touched. They’re similar in size, so it’s great!

Lilia – the absolute master of playing with boobs of every size. She likes boobies a lot; she is the type to be a menace by randomly appearing behind someone and grabbing their boobs just to see them jump. She is almost as obsessed as Rook, in some ways even more obsessed, and extremely experienced. It’s like whenever she sees a pair of boobies of her partner, she instantly has a plan of how exactly she’s going to play with them. She pinches Idia’s small ones, tugs on them and puts them in her mouth entirely to tease Idia; she touches Silver’s nipples very slightly and gently to see them perk up with little stimulation before squeezing them very hard; she is all over Malleus’ large boobs and massages them ferociously, diving with her entire face down there to cover them with hickeys and bites because Malleus can take it.

Silver – she doesn’t care really, but she does fall asleep on Sebek’s breasts every now and then. She always apologises when she wakes up, but is she really all that sorry? They’re very nice to sleep on… She is also the only lucky girl to be allowed to suck on Lilia’s tits, and she is always very gentle about it. Lilia thinks that it’s Silver’s treat for being her good little daughter, but Silver thinks that it’s her indulging Lilia and not the other way around lol Silver just looks so cute when she does it!!

Sebek – this girl so obviously tries not to look at other’s breasts. She is very easy to read; sometimes she even squeezes the air without realising it and grinds her teeth very hard. She fights the urge that she herself doesn’t even fully realise: the urge to squeeze, to mash, to grab, to lick and to bite. It’s getting so bad that she can’t even look at Silver’s anymore, even though they’ve always been very comfortable being naked around each other. Idia’s also make her feral because she is very small and the nipples seem perky, as if they’re teasing Sebek and asking to get bitten and pulled..!! With Malleus though, Sebek would lose her shit completely, it would take every single drop of will that she has to stay as composed as possible when presented with her liege marvelous large breasts. She’s in luck though because Malleus likes it rough.

Malleus doesn’t really care much about other’s breasts, but she cares about being a flirt when she’s feeling playful, so she might comment on how they look (especially with Sebek who gets very flustered about it). When she is being extra playful, she could bite Lilia’s or even nib on it a little bit, but she knows that Lilia hates it when she does it, so this is just Malleus being a cheeky little brat.

[giggly-squiggily]

OMG OMG SENTENCE STARTERS ARE OPEN AGAIN??? YAYYYY OKAY!! So lately I’ve been obsessed with matchablossom (I think is the ship name!!!) so can I request Lee!Cherry with the sentence like “what did you just say?” or something like that?

love your work, so excited to see where this goes if you do it!!

*happy screeching noises* YES! :D I love them your honor! :D Anon, I've gotcha covered! (Aww!!! Thank you so much!)

CW: Some suggestive humor? (Do mentions of food-gasms count?)

“What did you just say?” Joe couldn’t believe his ears.

“I said nothing. You’re hearing things.” Cherry waved him off, avoiding his grinning gaze. “Must have hit your head too many times these past few years. Not that it’d make a difference in your intellect level.”

“Haha, call me stupid all you want! I heard you just say you liked my food!” Joe practically ran around the counter in his excitement. Sure, it was a given considering how often Cherry came around, but to have verbal confirmation? That was rare! “Say it again!”

“I said no such thing.” Cherry turned fully away from him, jaw set with aggravation at the shit eating grin Joe wore. Why did he marry this man again? “That was your imagination.”

“Say it. Say it, say it again!” Fingers slid into Cherry’s sides, making him jerk, biting his lip. “Say you like my food, Kaoru~”

“N-Nehehever! Geheht off, yooohou dahhaamn gorihiihhilla!” Cherry tried elbowing him, his hits ineffective as he lost himself in reluctant laughter. “I siihihihmply sahhahid it wahahhas dehehehcent!”

“That’s not what I heard! You were all swoon-like when you said “I love your cooking”! You practically moaned it!” Joe laughed as he buried his face in Cherry’s neck, worsening his ticklish predicament. “That’s some high praise when someone has a food-gasm over my cooking! Especially my beloved.”

“Doohohn’t be soohoho grohohoohss! Gehahahhaha, geheheht! Ehahahha, Kohohojirohoho!” Cherry was going to kill him. He was gonna kill him and then bury his body somewhere no one would be able to find it. “Fihihihine, fihihihine I lihihiked it, now stahhahap!”

“Say you loved it!” “Dohohon’t be grehehhehheedy!”

“Say it or I’m going for your hips.”

“Gehahaha- fihihihine! Fihihihine I love yoohohur food! Enohohough!” Cherry gave in when those hands rested on his worst spot, gasping for air when they finally stopped. “Hahhappy?”

“Hmm..almost.” Cherry was about to ask him what the hell he meant when Joe took his chin gently, kissing his lips. All his previous anger faded near immediately. “Now I am.”

“You’re so annoying. You’re lucky I love you so.” Cherry rolled his eyes, cheeks burning. Joe simply kissed him again.

“I love you too.”

Send me a sentence starter and I'll write a dabble for you! :D

[azrielgreen]

I am so excited for you at some stage to write metalsandwich. Other than Prism I haven’t read any (mostly because I’m super picky and no one quite hits the spot like you do). What would you do with the ship, if you don’t mind me asking? I, in every fandom I’m in, try and seek out 3 way pairings where either they’re all polyamorous and just love each other OR they’re in a love triangle fighting over each other but I can just never find anything good.

FYI the thoughts of this have me imagining precious little brat Steve in a relationship with mean Dom Billy and soft Dom Eddie. Or best friends Billy and Eddie fighting for Steve’ affection. Anyways, toodles.

This is so kind, thank you!! I really do love the idea of all three of them, it appeals to me in a deep way and I can't wait to write more of it. Also a little sidenote, it's still "in progress" but I wrote a fic called 'Rooms' that's metalsandwich: Rooms (Whose Thighs Are Lilac Rose Gardens) - Chapter 1 - Oonionchiver - Stranger Things (TV 2016) [Archive of Our Own]

I think this ship is sort of top tier to me, I love writing poly!rom so it would be something pretty special. I have no specific "plot" in mind beyond the three of them falling in love and how that works, but it would definitely something fairly obsessive, angsty and painful as well as grossly romantic, sexual and all-consuming.

I DO have a few gift fics in the works that are metalsandwich too! One is EXTREMEEEELY DARK and will be posted to the Azriel AO3, one is a Victorian era Penny Dreadful type story, and one is "competitive wooing" between Eddie and Billy to win Steve over.

Thank you so much for this again!!!

Az

[stoshasaurus]

i literally JUST discovered your ramv1 tag and I have to say I did not know I needed this and I am very obsessed. I am looking through the tag, and I'd really love to know where you got this idea and why you think they work, but my own speculation is because of how very different their stories feel, nearly opposites of each other. Ramattra wants Omnics to co-exist with humans, albeit probably away from them (as far as I remember, i have not read his lore in a hot second), while v1 is straight up slaughtering all life it comes across out of a need for fuel. So... very opposite from each other XD

either way, absolutely obsessed with this, no idea I needed this ship in my life

I love indoctrinating innocent bystanders into my cult.

Frankly, I have no idea how they came about. I like to claim that they came to me in a dream, or a strange divination, but the truth is just as vague because I literally don’t know. Even if I did know in the beginning, it’s been long enough that I don’t remember now.

I think it stems from them both being designed to kill. Granted, V1 comes from a world of machines that are built with the sole purpose of killing, while Ramattra comes from a world where his kind is really uniquely made for killing (yes, bastion and orisa units also existed, but there were tens, possibly hundreds of thousands, of completely docile brands of servant omnics. Ramattra and his brethren were merely a fraction of that population). So Ramattra feels like they share a bond in their purposes. Also, I think the ultrakill universe’s earth, albeit to a certain degree (he does have his limits for violence, unlike v1) kind of sounds like his ideal world. All humans dead? Robots rule? Sounds awesome (ignoring all of the other caveats).

It also probably stems from my religious need to ship my favorite characters together, and the often strange crackships that usually results in. That’s the more likely answer, to be honest.

My dynamic for them could potentially be one-sided, and sometimes is depending on how angsty I’m feeling. Ramattra is a mechanic, a man who designs his own null sector units, and probably admires the form and function of machines. My Ramattra is the biggest simp known to man in that he regards V1 as being the ultimate machine. A divinity, compared to him, one that moves quickly, self-repairs, and is one of the most efficient killers he’s ever seen. He loves it as a character but also as a machine, and worships it as its own deity, almost. In summary, he’d LOVEEE to stick his hands in there and see what makes it tick (in every imaginable way). Considering my V1 notably lacks personality (at least in my head. In art, that is very much not the case) it could be a very one-sided relationship. But because I am a sucker for sucrose in my ships, I imagine v1 regards ramattra as a beacon of safety, the armor that its lithe frame lacks, and a home that it can consistently return to and rely on when it is damaged or worn down. He helps it develop personality, and in turn becomes obsessed with what he regards as pretty much a god in mechanical flesh.

Does that make sense? God I hope so. These fuckers drive me crazy.

Anyway, if there’s anything else you’d like to know, PLEASE feel free to ask. Ramv1 drives me absolutely nuts since the moment it blessed my stupid little head and I will take any given opportunity to ramble about them. Or share your ideas!! I love hearing those too.

Thank you so much for this question.

[blueggrass]

[turnipoddity]

Ur lowkey saw mother Teresa… always giving back to your community … or maybe saw Jesus showing people the way (chainshipping)

A WHAT NOW

[sidneycarter]

love the idea that post The Situation thomas is just increasingly obtuse when it comes to jimmy's feelings.

so when one day mrs hughes mentions in passing at how much easier it is to handle james now he's settled down, thomas is incredibly confused. and a little bit heartbroken too of course.

it gets even stranger when on valentine's day alfred sulkily asks jimmy how many cards he's sent that year and jimmy merely shrugs and smirks. mrs patmore chastises them for gossiping and announces that surely, jimmy's only got one to be sending.

then one night, most of the staff are enjoying a rare night off in the pub. as usual, a host of pretty girls surround jimmy, and one particularly brave one asks jimmy if he's got any plans on one of his half days. jimmy throws her a cheeky wink and says "sorry, darling, but i'm spoken for."

thomas starts feeling really rather hurt. he's known all along that this would happen eventually - that jimmy would eventually move on and find a nice village lass, but it still stings to hear it. somehow, it hurts even more knowing that clearly jimmy has fallen for someone but he hasn't even told thomas.

thomas puts on a brave face and elbows daisy in the side. "d'ya hear that? jimmy's kept that quiet 'asn't he?"

daisy looks at him with a frown and cocks her head to the side. "well, not really--" but before she can say anything else she's swept up into the rowdy conversation of the table.

a few weeks later, thomas and jimmy are alone in the servants hall, with thomas reading the paper in his rocking chair and jimmy tapping out melodies on the piano. the tune he's playing is sweet and gentle, and thomas finds himself swaying his head along. as the song draws to a close, a gentle round of applause sounds from the doorway.

baxter stands smiling. "let me call you sweetheart is one of my favourites. it was beautiful, jimmy."

jimmy blushes prettily and stands, closing the piano lid. "thank you, mrs baxter. good night."

after he's gone from the room, baxter enters to fill herself a glass of water. she smiles fondly at thomas. "he's so smitten you know. head over heels." she rolls her eyes affectionately.

it takes months until thomas finally figures out the truth of what's going on. well, to say he figures it out is somewhat generous.

he's in the servants hall again, this time feeling a little despondent with a cup of tea. jimmy had gone to the pictures with alfred of all people, their friendship seemingly improved since jimmy's given up on chasing ivy's skirt. thomas is resolutely not waiting up to make sure jimmy gets home safe. anna is the only other person still up, and she sits opposite thomas stitching one of lady mary's hemlines in companionable silence.

thomas dwells on his own thoughts for a while, until anna rests her sewing on the table and fixes him with a worried look. "are you quite alright, mr barrow?"

"hm? oh, yes anna, i'm very well thank you." he takes a sip of his tea to hide his moue.

anna looks unconvinced. "thomas," she says seriously, "is it-- have you and jimmy had a falling out?"

that genuinely surprises thomas. for all his worry and sadness over jimmy's as yet unknown love interest, they'd never fallen out. "no, no, of course not. he's just busy, that's all, which is to be expected now he's, you know," thomas waves his cup vaguely in the air, "courting the mystery lady."

anna chokes on a laugh. "the mystery lady?"

"yes. he's-- he's courting someone, isn't he? everyone keeps saying that he's... or suggesting that he's taken with someone." Thomas adds somewhat bitterly, "seems quite serious if you ask me. not that he's told me anything about it of course."

anna stops giggling and looks at him oddly. "thomas you-- you can't mean--"

"-- do you know who she is, anna?" thomas interrupts a little desperately. he's becoming tired of it all and he just wants to know-- how bad it is, for how long he's going to have to tend to his broken heart.

"thomas. thomas, jimmy's sweetheart is-- well, it's you."

"me?" thomas has a brief, sickening memory of his feelings before, and how miss o'brien toyed with them so badly. but he knows in his gut, that anna would never, and could never do that. he knows she's being honest, as confusing and terrifying as the statement may be.

"yes." anna smiles. "he's like a little puppy when he's with you. surely you've noticed? he gazes at you with stars in his eyes. he wants to do everything you do, and it seems like every other conversation is all about what you've been telling him this week. he only ever plays love songs on the piano when you're in the room. he laughs at all your jokes and he's not even glanced in the direction of a girl since last year." anna shakes her head. "i thought you knew and were just letting him get used to it."

"no i didn't -- i didn't know, i thought," thomas can feel himself blushing, "i don't know what i thought."

anna stands with a stifled yawn. "you make each other very happy. if you really didn't know, i think you ought to talk to him. good night, mr barrow."

"good night anna. and thank you."

thomas is left in the still and quiet of the room, watching the steam spiral up from his cup. a private and hopeful smile spreads across his face. yes, he thinks, nodding his head, perhaps we should talk.

[stealingpotatoes]

I swear, Cal and Merrin are one of the few sane enough couples in Star Wars

AND I LOVE THEM SO MUCH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[somegrumpynerd]

Poor angsty lil oreo 😟 maybe he could need a reboop of his installment... or preferably a nice comforting hug from New Rat friend?? UwU seriously, would be sooo cute omg! 2 cuties hugging it out is just soo awww~ pls?? ✨🥺🙏

- 🍓

Well, the rat is me (hello!), so I guess I could give Cross a hug if he needs!

But he should be warned, I am a bear hugger >:3c

And while I'm here hugging skeletons, if I could be serious for just a second (because any longer and I'll die of sillyness deficiency)

This is the anniversary of a really sad day for me, and if I hadn't had undertale to be obsessed with and distract myself I can't imagine how much worse it would have been. So I just wanted to say thank you for letting me jump into the fandom and make stuff and have fun, it really means a lot <3

[ifindus]

Euros thoughts I've been having: Was Norway partying with Scotland in Germany ahead of his games in the Euros? Did Norway console Scotland after his team was eliminated in that defeat by Hungary? I can imagine Scotland needed a hug and some back rubs at least after that... Do you think he's supporting Denmark as a fellow Scandinavian, or is there too much rivalry?

Thank you for these Euros thoughts!! 🙏 I've watched every game I've had the opportunity to and we are so close to the end of it now 👀 betting on Spain to take the win this year

Of course Norway's joined joined in on Scotland and Germany's pre-gameings - which is an adorable new friendship btw. Norway enjoys football as much as any other European country and when his own team is not playing, he can at least have fun watching Scotland's team.

"I'm sure you'll advance from the group play next time~"

tbf I think Scotland is still quite proud of his team though 🙏 I've seen nothing but positivity from Scots interviewed after they lost that final match - they are just there to bring good vibes and have a great time and that's what they accomplished ✨

The Danes have been terrible towards us in the euros this year and we're not even in it!! 😠 I've seen some videos of Danes chanting about how Norway did not qualify and how they are so much better 😠 I think Norway would be sort of reluctant to cheer for Denmark to begin with, so this behaviour by Danish fans is a great excuse to root against Denmark in every match. And they didn't even pass the group play sooo 👀

[thetarttfuldickhead]

Forever obsessed with everyone at Richmond including their reporter watching Roy yelling at Jamie and dragging him about and correctly identifying that Roy is head over heels for that boy

They know what's up! And see, what particularly amuses me about this is

A, that I’m not sure that Roy has correctly identified this as him being deeply, deeply obsessed with Jamie and his well-being. Like, prior to 3x12 I would have said that, of course Roy gets it, he’s not that oblivious, but then he’s Like That in the final episode and yeah, I ain’t convinced he ain’t a silly goose anymore. (He’s not all oblivious, though, sitting on Jamie Tartt’s childhood bed, being all concerned about him and shit, but if asked he’d probably spout some inanity about being concerned like he’d be concerned for any of his players and it’s just slightly surprising because he never expected to feel anything but seething hatred for Jamie so.)

B, Dottie Lasso’s reaction, because she assumes that Jamie is in trouble – very reasonably, given the way Roy’s acting! – and that just makes me wonder what’ll it’ll be for new players joining the team post-season 3. I mean, if they’re at all familiar with the Premier League they’ll know that Roy and Jamie has this Thing, what with both their dust-ups and early morning training sessions being decidedly public, but the exact nature and minutiae of that Thing can’t be all too clear, so when a few days into the pre-season Roy suddenly starts demanding absurd things of Jamie or hauling him off in an angry way, man, they’re still a bit… um. What is happening? Will Coach kill Jamie? Why is everyone so calm about this? Can this happen to me? Will everyone keep tying their shoes when Coach drags me off to kill me too? Is Coach going to make me do another hundred push-ups after training when everyone else gets to go home? Help?

And Isaac has to step in and be like, no Roy ain’t gonna treat you like that, it’s a Roy and Jamie thing, don’t worry about it, actually maybe we should talk about some of the Roy and Jamie things so they don’t freak you out, or you decide you can use Coach’s shoulder to fall asleep on just because Jamie does.

Maybe there’s a PowerPoint. Maybe it becomes a sort of rite of initiation, having a tiny freak-out the first time a new player is confronted with Roy and Jaime being Roy and Jamie.

[rollinouttahere-writes]

More Kaku x Adult Lucky perhaps? 👉🏻👈🏻 asking for the simps

I'm glad the last post found the Kaku simps I need to talk about him more

Kaku's mannerisms are about as old-fashioned as his speech patterns. He's opening doors, pulling out the chair, getting all of those classic kinds of gifts, the works. The flowers in the bouquets he sends her are picked by himself.

On top of that, he also gets her presents that are specific to her own interest. This can become a bit unsettling when he sends her something she remembers trying on but not buying, and she realizes just how frequently and covertly he's been stalking her.

There are typically little notes/cards attached to the gifts, but the other Straw Hats tend to dispose of these before Lucky can read them since there is a 50/50 chance it'll be a seemingly sweet and innocent note or something that will creep her the fuck out. Best to just burn them.

All that being said, out of all of her suitors, Kaku is somewhere in the middle on a scale ranging from 'I can tolerate being around them' to 'OH GOD NO'.

With how strong and agile he is, she is very concerned about him being able to successfully kidnap her. However, beyond that she doesn't find him to be that scary. He has a tendency to walk on eggshells around her so as to not scare her, so she isn't worried about him hurting her.

Kaku absolutely loathes Lucci and his obsession towards Lucky. If Lucky ever sees Lucci, only for him to suddenly disappear, Kaku did that. They clash a lot over her because Kaku doesn't want to see Lucky get hurt, but Lucci isn't about to give up the hunt either.

Hates Kid for similar reasons.

Lucky gets whiplash when she sees how he treats her when they're alone compared to how he behaves when someone else is around. While he is still very much in her personal space, his eyes are on the other person and his happy expression is now much more serious. Should they make the mistake of trying to start something, he is ruthless in disposing of them.

Frequently has dreams about them being together. The dreams are bittersweet to him because as lovely as they tend to be, it is very depressing to wake up and remember how things actually are.

If she were to let him, he would predominantly give her forehead kisses. His nose makes other kinds a touch awkward to do.

[thescrolls-haveforetold]

have your neraverine and your dragonborn ever met?

yeah!!

during the peace meeting! Kynwyn was really badly injured by her fight with Alduin, she was confined to High Hrothgar and having lost Paarthurnax in the fight. Nerevar was on Ulfric’s side of the war for the sake of better treatment for the people coming from Morrowind and for sneakier reasons, ulfric having become too inconvenient to keep alive

so Kynwyn is about fifteen here, Nerevar is not the only one who doesn’t trust/believe in the kid’s ability to make decisions regarding complex politicial situations. She’s too young and too vulnerable in this situation to be put in this position, to take the brunt of everyone’s criticism, so Nerevar steps up to act as the unbiased party. Tullius and Ulfric object to this- but Nerevar leverages his age and experience, being about a 1000+ years chronologically and more experienced in petty group squabbles than everyone in the room combined.

They speak afterwards, Nerevar offering comfort to Kynwyn’s mother- Apollina- who’s absolutely livid that all of this is happening to her daughter while she’s in a state like this. He ends up entrusting Lina and Kynwyn to one of his most trusted guardsmen- Teldryn Sero (aka Bel Sero, former Hand of Almalexia). Nerevar acts as a sort of ‘friend in high places’ for Kynwyn, and he sees potential in her to be formidable and a good asset in the wars to come, with her dragons- her ‘Su Fus’ as she calls them.