#this is so joyously ridiculous

[revehae]

mirage

pairing ↠ siren!ningning × (f) reader

genre .. warnings ↠ smut, noncon, scientist! reader, siren!ningning, fucking machine, kidnapping

summary ↠ after deceiving a naive siren, you decide to use her as a lab rat to prove your theories that other fellow scientists had ridiculed - and maybe use her for other, less than ethical experiments.

wc ↠ 2.4k

a/n ↠ part 2/5 of the legend has it series!

don't like it, don't read.

there was a moment, within the first couple of blinks, where the room reeled like the staggering motions of a ship on violent waters, and there was no way for ningning to tell what was up and what was down. then the haze started to dwindle, the fog started to lift, and everything became clear.

the first thing she noticed was the constant of unfamiliar noises resounding through the open room she’d roused to, shifting in the constricted space of the laboratory apparatus she was strapped to. your back was turned. you were facing a panel, closely monitoring her vitals.

“you’re awake,” you declared joyously, without the need to turn. “everything went smoothly. it couldn’t have been more perfect.”

ningning recognized you, though barely. it was all coming back to her. she was not like most others sirens, much less reputable for her generosity and impressionability. when she saw you, flailing around in the ocean where humans like you didn’t belong, she knew in her heart that she had to help you back to land.

that was what she endeavored to do at least, but beyond the memory of clutching your soaked arm, everything went black.

ningning’s eyes fluttered. she was shockingly lethargic. “what do you mean?”

“the experiment. it worked,” you explained vaguely, as if she was supposed to know what experiment you were referencing. you seemed so thrilled, off-puttingly so. “they said that my claims were pseudoscience. and then they said that even if sirens were real, the idea that there was a process where they could be transformed into man was a mirage.”

your rants sounded ludicrous, until ningning glanced down and saw that the glimmering scaled appendage, the one her whole identity was compromised of, was no longer attached. in its place, she had a pair of slender legs and an equal set of feet with little toes she couldn’t help but wriggle.

panic immediately settled in after the shock and she exclaimed, “what did you do?”

ignoring her, you continued, “i would’ve said it’s unbelievable, but that’s not true. i’ve always believed it. even when nobody else had faith.”

to say you were overjoyed would still be an understatement. for years your peers in the field had ridiculed and critiqued your theories. nobody believed in supernatural entities and given your lack of evidence, you had nothing to support yourself. other than your dedication to not only proving them wrong in the existence of the supernatural, but proving that mermaid-like creatures could be made human.

ningning started to squirm, frantic. she refused to accept the bitter reality; that everybody that warned her about the dangers of her supposed naïveté had been right. unlike her fellow sirens, she had always wanted to see the good in the other world. where her friends took pleasure in baiting humans to their untimely deaths, ningning was contented with being a hindrance.

“undo it. undo it, please,” ningning whimpered, delicate water trinkling in an unusual stream down her cheeks. “i need to go home.”

“you are home, honey. i’m afraid that unless i work out a formula to redevelop your tail, you won’t survive in the ocean,” you explained. “even then, i would have to replace you to continue my experiments. and you wouldn’t want too many subjects, would you?”

of course, it would only make your experiments more credible, but ningning was appalled at the thought of her friends being submitted to the same forceful stripping of their identities.

ningning shook her head, whispering, “no.”

“i thought so,” you said, though your tone was sweet nonetheless. “besides, i can’t cut you loose now. i have more tests to run.”

“tests?” ningning echoed weakly.

spookily enough, you said nothing, only giggling to yourself while you faced your panel again. there was something so ominous about you, about the whole atmosphere, and all ningning could do was close her eyes and sing quietly to self-regulate.

the true nature of a siren, you thought, but didn’t say. her voice was lovely, as alluring as you thought it would be. you couldn’t wait to milk those beautiful sounds of her in a more lewd, indecent way.

somehow, ningning didn’t even realize that she was completely naked until she felt your cool hands at her skin and her eyes snapped open. you were adjusting a machine between the pair of thighs she wasn’t supposed to have, and she wasn’t sure if she was supposed to be comfortable with it or not.

wide-eyed, ningning asked, “what are you doing?”

“i told you, honey. i’m experimenting on you,” was all you said. 

for half a minute, you just stood there, lips tutted in contemplation and a befuddled expression on your face. then, in the next minute, you had her flipped over onto her hands and knees, readjusting the restraints around her limbs into taut knots. ningning cried out in shock all the while, more than confused about what you were up to, though she was silently praying to the sea gods for mercy.

“please,” ningning whispered, eyes glistening. 

setting the dildo part of the machine back in place, you gave a half-assed attempt at consoling, “don’t worry. if my hypothesis is correct, this will be quick.”

ningning hardly knew what you meant. she was no stranger to basic scientific terms, knowledge and science was not strictly a human concept, but you were so vague in your elaborations that she couldn’t help but wonder what all was at stake here. she couldn’t fathom why you were hunting merpeople or understand how you were aware of their existence.

without allowing her longer than a couple of seconds to think, the machine came to life, and ningning gasped loudly when it started to plunge where you’d set it between her thighs. it wasn’t a comfortable feeling. it felt foreign and strange and unexpected.

“hurts,” ningning whimpered.

“it won’t for long,” you replied offhandedly, a clipboard in your hands for charting data you were collecting. this bit of the trial was more personal. it wasn’t to prove yourself to other scientists, but self-indulgent research. 

never in ningning’s life had she ever felt anything close to this, and that made the feeling all the more inexplicable. there was an unorthodox fullness now, a warmth beginning to brew, developing in the pit of her exposed stomach and stretching out.

and then the feeling inside of her was so peculiar that it became pleasant. ningning couldn’t even be troubled with attempting to understand the logic behind it, because all she cared about now was this weirdly good sensation making her thighs shudder like nothing. her sounds were obviously like that of a siren, as bewitching and sweet-sounding as they could be, and it was making you dangerously wet.

ningning thought of it like singing, except she struggled to control the way her jaw slacked and those airy noises escaped her. it was almost like her mouth had a mind of its own, lips parting and her tongue birthing the gentlest of cries.

to say the least, you were amused. the machine was on its lowest potential setting and already she was a hot mess, unraveling like she never had before. granted, you had manufactured it all by yourself, deliberately choosing to make it sizeable and installing more than enough functions to keep it warm and vibrating, but it was entertaining nonetheless and you had a hidden camera recording every second of this experiment. for research purposes.

you needed to go back and review the content of the video, just to jot down any important details you might not have noticed. it didn’t really matter if you planned on getting off to the tape a couple of times, too, because this bit of the experiment was just for you. it was worth savoring every second.

you had a real motivation for this whole situation, no matter how laughable it might’ve seemed. it went beyond your fascination with the supernatural. not only did you want to know if it was possible to turn merpeople into humans, but if they could be human, or at least resemble humankind, you had long wondered if they could get off the way humans did. and at the same degree.

some people would call it a gross, taboo fetish. others would tell you to roleplay and get it out of your system, because there was no way in hell that mermaids roamed the same earth as humanity. but none of it discouraged you. you always knew you were right. and the beautiful girl in front of you, reacting astoundingly well to having her cunt fucked by a mere gadget, was living proof.

though you wouldn’t admit it to her face, you had been so tempted to touch her while she was unconscious, hardly able to resist the titillating allure of a siren. she had been out for a couple of days, which was more than enough time for you to transform her into a human. the only reason you resisted was because you wanted her awake, conscious reactions. it was important that she was alive and awake until the very end.

ningning’s face was tensed with pleasure, a kind you had learned to recognize in spite of the fact you’d never seen anything quite like it before. “oh my… fuck.”

you asked curiously, “how does it feel?”

“i… i don’t know. it feels weird. but i like it,” ningning stammered, breathy moans penetrating the air between her sentences.

that much you could tell, just from observing her. at one point, you forgot that you were supposed to be taking notes, too absorbed in the shine on her skin from the fresh layer of sweat on her back and the shape of her ass. the resounding wet squelch accompanying the repetitive noise from the machine’s activity as it slammed inside her pussy. you found yourself upping the setting, watching in real time how ningning’s head tilted with a light moan.

“it’s so big, oh my god, it’s so big,” ningning exclaimed, a tremor to her voice. “make it go faster - please.”

you cocked a brow. “you sure?”

all ningning could do was idiotically bob her head, sweet noises blocking all of her words. you were surprised to see her want so much so soon, but you weren’t going to deny her desperate request, and quickly pressed a button on the hovering panel beside you.

if you had to describe it, ningning was like an animal. you could see the wild, untamed need glistening in her eyes, pouring in the form of liquid. the tears dripping from eyes and the arousal seeping from her cunt. she didn’t even know why she wanted it so badly - she just knew that she did. 

hearing her talk about the size of the toy made you giggle. it was intended to stretch her open, maybe a little more than she was prepared for, but ningning seemed to be taking it like a champ. almost like it was made especially for her. she was borderline drooling all over the place, mouth hanging open and her eyes rolling back. the throbbing between your legs was becoming unignorable, though this wasn’t about you right now. proving a point was your priority.

ningning was gushing, tight walls kneading the hyper realistic dildo as if it were an actual cock. she couldn’t help but pulse around it, addicted to the quickening vibrations and the warmth shooting through her like sparks of electricity. if anything, she was lucky that it wasn’t real. had someone genuinely been fucking her, they would lack the self-restraint to treat her like the human you’d worked diligently for her to become.

realizing that you hadn’t touched her at all throughout the entire session, you set down the pen and clipboard that had fallen useless between your fingers and paraded right over to her, instead occupying your hands with her tits. you couldn’t help but pinch her nipples, twisting them here and there, much to ningning’s unmistakable delight.

she was just so responsive. every touch was met with the most euphoric of honey-like moans that made you want to rail her into the next century. not only did her body twitch and spasm with sensitivity, but her face was as expressive as it was beautiful. every feeling she felt was plain on her features and she lacked the ability to conceal her true emotions. ningning couldn’t lie and tell you that this wasn’t the most ecstatic moment of her life even if she wanted to.

“my stomach,” ningning trailed, words essentially becoming useless.

not that needed to speak, or even think at all. not when she was just your lab rat. you knew what she meant regardless, and it didn’t take your observation skills to know that she was just shy of climax, standing right at the brink. you wanted to see her let loose. for your own sake, you needed to know what it was like.

you kept touching her, careful to stand clear of the camera so that you wouldn’t obscure your own view later on, but just close enough to fondle with her body in a way that had her on the verge of melting into your palms. 

it wasn’t very long before you got exactly what you wanted. the device made short work of her, hitting her in all of the right spots, and you stepped back to gape in awe at how intense her orgasm was. it was more than the tears falling down from her eyes and the shrill scream that parted her lips, though that was a major part of it. it was more than her body convulsing involuntarily. it was a solid minute worth of undeniable bliss and pleasure so raw that she could hardly even feel for a good moment.

it was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen. 

ningning wanted to slump after orgasming, because as pleasurable as it was, it was also exhausting and clearly knocked the wind out of her. but the toy didn’t stop, and she didn’t notice the strange fluid dripping out of her until minutes later. because like hell you wouldn’t program an ejaculation feature into the machine.

“fantastic,” you chirped, more than proud of what you’d done. you were beaming with accomplishment. “we need a couple more runs and i’ll give you a break.”

ningning’s eyes, wide as they already were, largened as she pleased, “no more. i can’t take it. it’s too much.”

“shh,” you crooned, eyes glued to the device that had yet to stop thrusting in and out of her. or maybe the fake semen that was oozing out of her. “experiments don’t end with one trial, dear. welcome to my world.”

[possibilistfanfiction]

CaitVi prompt: hugs

[ok s/o the one person who wanted a climbing au lmao. this rly isn't abt climbing, it's just a silly meet cute thru jinx's pov. i love sisters ur honor! also idk jinx is a cooler name than powder so that's what we're going with lol. incredibly minimal angst :)]

//

keep your helmet on this; finish dressing your knot that; vi triple checks the number of quick draws you have on your harness — ‘i have twelve, and there’s only nine bolts, vi,’ you say again— while you roll your eyes so hard your whole head moves. she sighs, as marginally satisfied as she ever manages to be when you’re leading anything. 

‘okay,’ she says, checking her grigri carabiner for, like, the fifth time. 

‘okay.’ you roll your eyes once more for good measure before you establish on a truly disgusting set of crimps. ‘climbing.’

vi gives a very serious, ‘climb on,’ and since she can’t see you anymore, you let yourself smile. even though she’s annoying and hates when you take victory whips — your favorite — you do love her: she takes your life seriously. 

the route is gross, overhung with tricky feet and big moves, but vi had lead it just before you and made it look pretty easy, even though it’s her style and definitely not yours. still, you’re not going to back down from a challenge, even though admittedly she’s way stronger than you: you’re light and unafraid of falling, which sometimes evens the playing field. 

you yell out anchor and then take just like you’re supposed to once you finish the route, refusing to shake out your arms even though you’re pumped as hell, and vi lowers you smoothly. you expect her to have her utmost, full attention on you, but when you turn to talk about your beta as you undo your knot, you see vi very quickly get off belay and then take her fleece quarterzip — a black patagonia which had been your best thrift find of the past year, in your opinion — off in an almost frantic, decidedly uncool way. it’s even more ridiculous because it’s freezing and all vi has on under her jacket is her favorite ‘queer crush’ tank from your gym. she smiles in your direction — a small, proud one — but then her grin turns shy and she looks at someone else. 

the someone else in question, a few feet away, gearing up, is, admittedly, hot — you gotta give vi that.

she has dark hair that manages to look chic even under her helmet, pants actually designed for climbing, and an arcteryx down jacket — the right weight for the fucking weather, at least — and even her chalk bag and shoes look kind fancy; you notice a pair of very neat camp slippers sitting next to approach shoes you could only dream of, the socks in them in a neat little ball. 

‘caitlyn,’ she says to you, offers her hand in a firm shake — not a customary fist bump — before she ties in anywhere or chalks up. you’re kind of confused why she’s walking toward the start, but you introduce yourself anyway as you pull the rope.

‘cait is going to clean the route,’ vi explains as caitlyn ties in, another smile exchanged. ‘her climbing partner is peeing, so i offered to belay if she wanted to lead it.’

it’s a pretty gnarly 12a, and also vi never lets you clean anchors, mostly because you don’t think all the steps with a PAS are necessary and you take victory whips without announcing them first, but whatever. it’s boring anyway.

caitlyn and vi go through the most intense safety check, joyously, almost, vi practically giggling when she looks at caitlyn’s figure 8, her hand hovering over caitlyn’s waist when she checks the loops on her harness, and you sit with a huff on a small rock near enough the route you can watch. 

you do everyone the profound kindness of staying quiet until caitlyn clips into the first quickdraw and vi very officially says, ‘you are on belay, cupcake,’ but then you’ve had enough. 

‘cupcake?’

‘she’s sweet,’ vi says, concentrating more on belaying than she ever has in her life with you. you’re not stupid, so you can tell she’s really just trying to avoid you seeing her blush. 

‘sure, sis.’ you watch as caitlyn does a pretty sick high foot to hand match and mantles calmly; vi shouts some encouragement. ‘did you get hot belaying me?’

‘what?’

‘very smooth, showing cait your best asset right away. thanks for waiting until i was done, at least.’

vi scoffs. not convincing at all. ‘the wind has gone down.’

‘we’re in a slot canyon.’

caitlyn sails past the crux, incredibly technical and very calm. it’s unfortunately impressive. 

‘nice, cait!’ vi shouts. ‘that was sick!’

caitlyn, to your dismay, pauses after she clips into the next quickdraw — your least favorite hold on the whole route, a terribly chalked up sloper — and turns to give vi a thumbs up. 

you groan, long and drawn out, and flop onto your back while vi laughs. you’re no stranger to girls falling all over themselves to impress your sister, but this is one of the few times where one of them has actually been impressive. 

when you sit up, a guy who was watching caitlyn climb looks at you and laughs, immediately somehow in on it all, you can tell. 

‘i was gone for, like, ten minutes,’ he says. ‘cait already found a new partner?’

‘in more ways than one,’ you bemoan. you offer a fist bump, correct and cool climbing etiquette, not some stupid handshake. ‘that’s vi, my sister. and i’m jinx.’

‘jayce,’ he says, then looks up. ‘is cait cleaning the anchor?’

‘guess so.’

‘i wanted to climb that route.’ he’s definitely pouting, which you never do because it’s extremely undignified, obviously. 

‘you snooze, you lose, i guess.’ you shrug. ‘plus, i think they’re both just trying to impress each other. horrible. worst thing to happen today.’

‘i took a whip on slab,’ he says, shows you a scrape on his palm. ‘so maybe second worse.’

‘nah,’ you wave him off. ‘big whips are the best, most fun part of climbing.’

he looks at you like you’re crazy, which, like, you certifiably are, but even your therapist thinks that climbing with vi — and therefore with a lot of gear and safety checks — is good for getting your “intrusive impulses” out without too much danger. could be worse, you always tell her, because it has been. 

you don’t let yourself dwell on that, though, not out here on a cold, beautiful day, your hands stinging a little in the best way, the sun sinking just slightly. vi might be annoying and so, so gay, but she’s your favorite person in the world, hands down. for now, it’s okay. 

caitlyn calls for slack and then quickly and neatly cleans the anchor, and vi lowers her carefully while she takes the quickdraws out. they’re, like, basically about to kiss, you’re pretty sure, when caitlyn gets to the bottom, before she even unties her knot. 

‘that was amazing,’ vi says, full of genuine awe, as if the both of you didn’t also just lead that route. when caitlyn brushes her hand against vi’s — in thanks, you guess — vi blushes hard enough even you can see it. you’re relieved for her, honestly, when caitlyn’s cheeks are the same shade of pink.

and so the day goes like this: caitlyn sails up a run-out slab route vi had sworn off every other time you’d come to the crag, mostly because she’s so strong she hates slab and it’s truly heinous — the best route here, in your opinion — full of mono pockets and the tiniest foot jibs. it’s kind of embarrassing to watch vi tremble her way up, especially after she lets you lead it after caitlyn, but you actually do belay her carefully and caitlyn and jayce both shout encouragement. vi sends it, even though she’s a total baby and asks you to take twice. jayce — also really strong; also terrified of slab, which makes you laugh — and vi convince caitlyn to end on another overhang, exhausting and pumpy, and you only agree to do it too because you know vi won’t care as much if you fall on it. you send it first, take a giant whip off the top that you know vi will be annoyed at you for, but when she lowers you the rest of the way, she just smiles and taps the top of your helmet.

‘you’re getting so strong, jinx,’ she says, the easy, heartfelt compliment making you feel all warm inside. vander and ekko insist that you’re kind like vi, that you share the same big heart, and sometimes you think they might be right.

‘great job,’ caitlyn agrees, happily and without anything underlying, and jayce echoes the sentiment too. all day they’d both asked you thoughtful and caring questions about your studies, jayce especially excited when you told him you were going to school for mechanical engineering, and about your friends, your hobbies, books and music you’ve enjoyed lately.

kindness is too much for you, sometimes, especially when it’s easily given and true, so you duck off and set about pulling and coiling the rope; gathering the rest of the gear split into your packs — vi’s, of course, much heavier whenever you’re in charge.

still, she stops her flirting — caitlyn is talking about how she’s a doctor, or something, and vi wipes her sweaty face with the bottom of her tank before finally putting her jacket back on, then telling one of her bravest firefighter stories — to say, ‘thanks for doing all of this, sis,’ sincerely before shouldering her pack.

‘don’t mention it,’ you grumble, trudging out of the canyon back up toward your cars. the approach is short but steep, so thankfully they’re mostly quiet. but as you load everything up — yours into vi’s old bronco that you’d both fixed up with vander; caitlyn’s into a brand new forester with every “wilderness” add-on you could possibly think of — they exchange numbers with the promise to climb again soon, both indoors and at another of your favorite crags too. you’re sure caitlyn climbs at one of the fancy gyms in town, one that you can only afford a membership to because vi is a first responder and you’re a student, and even then just barely. 

horrifically, maybe the worst part of the day, is that caitlyn looks unsure for a moment but then opens her arms, and vi enthusiastically, and softly, hugs her for an amount of time that's way too intimate for having just met a friend at the crag. you’re a nice person after all, it turns out, because you don’t make a single gagging noise. you do catch jayce’s eye, though, and he lifts a brow, fighting a laugh. you duck your head, but it makes you smile too. 

they longingly wave goodbye one last time, and then vi glares at you when you start to laugh as she pulls out of the spot and onto the dirt road out of the canyon, flooring it a little more than necessary. 

‘hey,’ you say, ‘why are you all —' you motion to her, the furrow in her brow and the downturned corners of your mouth.

she slows down, taking the next turn and rut in the road carefully, like usual. ‘i just — i don’t even know if she’s queer, first of all.’

‘other than, like, her expertise at pockets —‘

‘— jinx—‘

‘— and the fact that she was all over you for, like, three hours, she had a trans flag on her helmet,’ you offer, taking a little pity on vi. ‘and she drives a subaru.’

vi sighs. ‘she’s — i mean, you can tell. wealthy and smart and gorgeous. i’m, well —‘

‘hot and kind and also smart?’

for someone who’s always bugging you about accepting compliments, she’s terrible at it. you know she holds a lot, feels inadequate in so many ways, because she couldn't save your parents, and because she was incarcerated, and because you grew up poor, and because she can't fix everything for you all the time.

‘look, i don’t think anyone will ever be good enough for you,' you tell her honestly; it's important. 'especially some idiot who wears arcteryx.’

vi laughs; you don’t mention that it’s a little watery with tears.

‘you save people for a living. your muscles are insane. you help me with school, and refilling my meds, and you always pay rent on time, and we can even eat out now, whenever we want. you’ve read, like, seventy books this year. you like podcasts about nature, which i only know because you make me listen to them with you while we drive anywhere.’

it’s quiet — no podcast, not just now — for a minute or two, but then vi nods.

‘i guess you’re right.’

‘i’m always right. i’ve literally never been wrong.’

‘shut the fuck up.’

you laugh, delighted, and put your socked feet on the dash just so vi can swat them off. 

‘so, anyway, do you wanna tell me more about how caitlyn being perfect at pockets made you feel, or…’

‘i will throw you out of this car.’

‘you’d never.’

‘i might.’

you laugh; when she pulls onto the paved road you take her hand in yours, lace your fingers together, put on a song you love that she hates. she rolls her eyes but sings along anyway.

[lifesteal-headcanons]

Clown is infuriatingly good at new video games. Like you'll introduce him to a new game and he'll lose the first three rounds and then start winning, because not only has he learned every move and combo but also how YOU SPECIFICALLY move and devised a strategy to combat it.

Branzy is a chronic button masher with ridiculous luck and is the only person Clown can rarely beat at any video game. And he doesn't even notice, every single time Branzy's like ":O I won ! Wow!" he's legitimately so surprised.

This used to infuriate Clown but now he finds it endearing. He beats Branzy once and they have an entire celebration over it. Branzy did in fact joyously celebrate Clown's win... against himself. They baked an entire cake for it.

.

[notroosterbradshaw]

42. "Touch me again, and I'm pushing you off the bed." With Rooster pleasee (to be honest.. would it be actually a problem?)😂

A/N: this is a bit of a dumpster fire. Every save has failed, so here you have it. I hope you enjoy it. okay, pal, I am going to raise you two tropes:

42. "Touch me again, and I'm pushing you off the bed."

There was only one bed and

Enemies to... something. Not lovers, but something.

"Because of you... let me rattle this off because this is entirely your fault and I don’t want to miss anything, okay? Because of you, we; one - left late. Nearly two hours to remind you. Two - got the last bedroom. With one goddamn bed!”

Rooster Bradley was wild. And not in that cute, gee, he looks like a fun, cool guy way, but close to a rage blackout. Like he was so ticked off, the ridges of his ears were blushing pink as the rage seared from his strong, broad chest towards his thick neck, adrenaline coursing through his veins. His hands flexed as he tried to control his emotions that were just so out of check. No breathing techniques could save him now.

“I am not staying in here with you,” he seethed. You, on the other hand? Music to your ears! The trip to Tahoe was pure frigging torture, and you were still not sure how you were so unlucky to have to make the ten-hour drive with one of the people you actually despised and you both made it out alive.

The daily issue you had with each other in the air too.

"No sweat," you grinned, thrilled with this development. “Enjoy sleeping anywhere but here, pal,” you pat his muscular pecs and took a step into the room before slammed the door in his face joyously.

Later that night at the dinner table, you could feel Rooster burning a hole into the side of your head, still roasting from your earlier disagreement. Disagreements? Yeah, definitely plural. Not stopping your conversation with Bob, you relinquished your glass of red and said, “Hey Rooster, here’s another bird for you,” you gave him the one-finger salute. "Get over yourself."

The table was silent. You could hear a pin drop.

“More wine please, Mickey?” you asked, utterly refusing to give Rooster Bradshaw another moment of your time. Last you’d heard, he’d committed to either sleeping in his ridiculous car or on the couch. Fine by you, the King size bed was just perfect for little you.

"God, you're so goddamn petulant, I don't know how you managed to get through the ranks... or killed yourself. It's one of the two if I'm really honest."

"Sheer talent, agility and knowing it pisses you off," you raffled off and turned to face him, planting your chin in your palm and batting your eyelashes in his direction. "Gives me all the ammo I need."

"You're such a fuckin' liability," he scoffed, rolling his eyes.

"Jesus, this escalated," Bob muttered to no one in particular.

"Shouldn't have let them drive together," Natasha sighed, putting her head in her hands.

"You know, Hangman, you are right," you said, ignoring your friends and looking at Jake as his eyes bulged.

"How am I getting dragged into this, sweet thing? I mean, I'm always right, but..." he asked, not really wanting to get in the middle of your and his wingman's quarrel. Especially since he was enjoying it so much. He preferred being a spectator in this bout.

"Like you told me on day one... Rooster's just sitting there on his perch and I do all the heavy lifting and saving his ass. Younger, faster, better - " you rattled off.

"Oh, you're so fuckin' outta line - " Rooster roared, standing as you grinned up at him.

"hey, hey, hey," Fanboy's chair screeched as he put a hand on Rooster's chest to remind him of his place.

"Tell me all about it, Bradshaw. Just get it out there and make your peace with the fact you don't like me and have gone out of your day since the beginning to try and stop each and every one of my promotions," you rested your chin in your hand and added a sweet bat of your lashes for good luck. You could see the smoke puff from his ears.

"I don't want to look but I can't look away," Coyote tried to bite back his grin but this had been bubbling under the surface for years. And he was going to witness it explode.

“This has to stop, guys,” Bob tried again.

"Peacemakin' ain't gonna work this time, Baby on Board. It's about time you let these two at it," Hangman sipped his beer but there was no denying that smirk that threatened.

“Look, I can swap with Rooster and bunk,” Natasha sighed, always the peacemaker. “I got a room to myself. You two cannot stay together tonight... or ever.”

A cause for a fight in itself, you dared ask, “How’d you keep that to yourself?”

She shrugged. “Frankly, just wanted to see how long it would be before one of you killed the other. It's clearly much closer than I thought,” she sipped her wine, whetting her lips. “I’ll stay with you," she tenderly pet your face, and felt the heat radiating under your skin. You were riotous and she could feel the fever of whatever it was that Rooster under your skin today. She gave you kudos, how you managed to stay to cool while Rooster erupted was commendable. But Natasha knew things about you the team didn't and that included what was hidden behind the ego.

“Think you can keep your hands to yourself?” you teased.

“I think I can hold it together,” she said as you both laughed.

“Just like the old days.”

You toasted each other.

“You’re off the hook, Bradshaw,” Natasha muttered, not bothering to look at him. “But we get the King.”

Rooster’s face lit up. “Phoenix, you’re on a one-way ticket to heaven.”

"I don't know why you guys just don't put up or front up," Hangman joined the party. "Could cut the sexual tension with a knife, if you ask me."

"No one asked you, Bagman," you and Rooster hissed loudly and Hangman actually shrunk in his chair. It didn't stop the smirks from the others at the table, trying to hide their mirth and Hangman knew... he wasn't on his own of this belief.

"I'm just sayin'," he tried as Coyote nodded beside him. Coyote wholeheartedly agreed. Put that sheer frustration with each other to good use: fly with it, fight with it, fuck with it. Two out of three ain't bad. But it could certainly be better.

"Knock it off, Jake..." Natasha told him. But she found it hard to argue with him. He was right, something had to give between you and for the sake of the team, a truce or ceasefire needed to be called somehow, someway. And it needed to be soon. She couldn't trust you to be on your best behaviour for Payback's wedding tomorrow and God knew she didn't want to have to send either of you to the naughty corner for not keeping your emotions in check with the other.

"And on that note," you pushed back your chair. "Goodnight," you said, standing and leaving before anyone could make an excuse to get you to stay.

"Jesus Christ Jake... could you just keep your trap closed this one time?" Mickey mumbled as you wandered away and you heard Jake laugh.

"Yep, it's just me that can't see right through them... ain't it, right Bradshaw?" Jake taunted his wingman. "Just put that frustration to use, brother."

"You know, Jake, you will never have to worry about me punching you in the fucking face, because I won't have to do it. They will," Rooster rolled his eyes and kept sipping his wine.

"You're gonna kill me," Natasha said a few hours later. "I think I had one glass of wine too many," she said, sitting on her bed, drifting a little. She was woozy, her tummy didn't feel great.

"You okay?" you sat up from your spot on the bed, watching her a little concerned. You grabbed her shoulder and tried to stop her from wobbling but she was pretty off-kilter.

"I don't feel so great," she admitted. "I think I'm a little nauseous."

"Oh, no. Can I get you something? Some water?" you started to get out of bed to help.

"No, I'm just going to freshen up in the en suite for a while. Cool water might help. A shower of something," she said, idly on her legs as she stumbled into the bathroom and closed the door after her. Settling back, you had never heard the sound of anyone being ill the way Natasha currently was.

"Oh, shit," you said, bouncing from the bed and going to the door to open it, but she'd locked it. "Natasha, can I come in?"

"No, don't come in here - " she said before interrupting herself to be sick again.

"Oh, wow," you said quietly to yourself. Okay, the helper in your kicked into gear, leaving Pheonix for the moment to go retrieve a bucket, some towels and anything else that might make her feel a bit better... or at least fend off the hangover for tomorrow.

Rooster was on the couch with Bob when they noticed you going through unfamiliar cupbarods.

"Whatcha need?" Bob asked.

"Your frontseater is vomiting all over a different kind of seat..." you muttered.

"Oh, no," Bob sighed. "Can I help you?"

"No, she's locked herself in the bathroom. She's pretty unwell," you continued searching. "Would anyone have packed any Pepto... or something to try and settle her stomach?"

Rooster groaned standing. "I've got a first aid kit in my car. Let me get it."

You bet if roles were reversed, and Natasha was looking for help for you, Rooster would not be volunteering and quietly thanked him anyway. He didn't bother to reply but came back a few minutes later with a small kit and told you to use whatever you need. "Thanks, Rooster," you said meekly. He nodded as he watched you disappear again.

This was not how the night was supposed to go. You were supposed to be up and gossiping with Natasha, not helping her shower her sick out of her hair and tossing her in your bed because she needed to be close to the room with the ensuite. Everyone had shuffled but it still left you in a pickle.

Well, not just you.

You and Rooster, who could swear he was seconds away from actually sleeping in his car. The threat was real.

“Just stay on your side for god’s sake,” you instructed, rolling to face the door.

“This may be the worst thing that has ever happened in the history of time,” Rooster muttered and you flipped back to him, aghast. “Aside from other stuff in my life that has been tragic…” he clarified, embarrassed.

“You’re a terrible person.”

“Just go to sleep,” he rolled his eyes and turned over himself. Within minutes he was snoring soundly. You picked up your pillow and without a doubt, lifted it over his face ready to just end this madness before thrusting it over your face instead and falling back against the bed.

He slept while you stared at the roof, finally giving in and putting your earphones in your ear to try and drone Rooster out. You were going to be a fright tomorrow. You knew you weren't going to sleep tonight.

Rooster was blissfully comfortable sleeping on his back but rolled just enough so that he was on your pillow and legs pressing against yours.

“You’re infuriating,” you tutted. “This bed is too small for both of us."

Sighing, Rooster was woken. "Jesus Christ, what time is it?"

"Dunno, you've been snoring for an hour or something."

“Well, if Phoenix wasn’t vomiting all over our old room with the ensuite, you would be in there together with all the space in the room and I’d be sleeping in here peacefully.”

“Touch me again and I’m pushing you off the bed.”

He snorted. “I’d surely like to see you try. Go to sleep, you fucking brat."

You heard the muttering before you could feel the tossing and turning. Rolling over and preparing yourself to let loose on him, you noticed Rooster was still asleep. He was restless, covered in sweat and the sheets tangled around him before he jolted up to sit, gasping. He took the dim room in, eyes darting around, trying to familiarise himself with his surroundings. “Where am I?” He asked desperately.

“We’re with the squad, it’s Payback’s wedding weekend in Tahoe,” you said softly.

"What?" you could sense that his brain didn't compute.

“You were having a bad dream, but you're okay. You’re safe. Try and breathe,” you instructed as his shoulders sagged and he tried to do what you asked. You explicitly knew this feeling and laid a gentle palm on his clammy shoulder. “Are you okay?” You asked softly. He stared at you, breathing deeply, putting his face in his hands. His PTSD was a good one, compounded by years of trauma.

You crawled a little closer to him and brushed back his wild curls.

“I’m sorry. Did I wake you?” he didn't answer your question, he could barely meet your eyes. Shame washed over him, the last person he wanted to show this part of himself to was right next to him.

“No,” you lied. “Do you need anything? Can I get you some water?”

Pursing his lips, embarrassed, he looked at the glass on his bedside table and reached to take a sip. "I got it."

It was strange, but the muscles on his strong back still engaged and you gently moved and hug him carefully. You felt him stiffen not soften and you told him softly, “You’re okay Rooster. You’re safe here with me.”

“Thanks, huh?” He said softly, sighing, and kind of melting a little, his body's flight or fight reducing as he inhaled sharply.

“You get those kinds of dreams often?” you dared ask. When didn't reply, you told him that you did once in a while but found it hard to go to people and tell them because you were sure no one would understand, hoping to encourage him.

He shrugged, resting his cheek on your shoulder, hiding his eyes. “Sometimes."

You held him tighter. “Does anyone know?”

“No… just you," he admitted and you knew he hated telling you and if you wanted to hold that power over him.

“Okay. I’m not going to preach to you, you know the drill.”

“Yeah, I do. Thank you.”

“I’m always here if you need me, okay?”

He hummed and you knew you were the absolute last person Rooster Bradshaw would come to if he found himself in this situation again. “Sorry I woke you.”

“That’s okay. I’m just glad you weren’t alone,” you gently pushed him back towards his pillows and shuffled over to snuggle up close.

“You’re a furnace,” he muttered.

“You should be so lucky. Am I too close?” You asked, wanting to protect him but also respect you were well and truly overstepping any boundaries you had before bedtime.

“It’s okay, it’s nice,” he admitted, rolling over and taking you with him, curling you into his back and you let out a surprised shriek as you moved with him. "Sorry... that okay?"

"Yeah," you told him. "That's okay," your small hand gripped his hip, drawing tender circles on the strong muscle. “Go back to sleep, we have a big day tomorrow.”

He yawned instinctively, and took your hand to lace with his fingers and draw your closer. “Yeah, it’ll be fun.”

You shuffled and released the arm you were laying on to drift up and down his back, the muscles and ridges tensing and relaxing to your touch and you'd swear, you heard him moan quietly. “Go to sleep,” you told him again, softly. “I’m right here, I won’t let anything happen to you, Bradshaw.”

Within a few minutes, you felt his breath change and he was asleep again deeply… but you couldn’t release your hand… and you didn’t want to either. Enjoying the peace his slumber brought and his gentle even breathing, it lulled you to sleep too.

Waking up the next morning, you found yourself still trapped against the warm body of Rooster, but this time he was facing you and it was his chest before you. His strong golden shoulders, muscular pegs, wide ribs, and incredible abs. Sure you weren't still asleep?

But he was awake, looking at you softly with his chin resting in his palm. “Good morning,” he said quietly. You couldn't get a read on him and that concern you.

“Hi,” you said, surprised you’d stayed so close overnight. It was unlike you, you appreciated your space and even when someone else was in your bed, encouraging your own space. “How are you feeling?” you bit back a yawn.

“Great actually,” he admitted. “Thank you for last night. You didn’t have to… you know. Be there for me,” he gently brushed some hair from your forehead and you knew you must have been a mess.

Not surprisingly, Bradley woke up like he just walked off a runway. He was so handsome and you think that was what you disliked most about him. “Anytime,” your body temperature rose in embarrassment and you shuffled back across the bed. He smiled as he watched you, he knew you were a little uncomfy with the closeness and he didn't blame you... he was the same only minutes earlier.

You felt impossibly under scrutiny under his fair gaze and you wondered if he knew how uneasy it made you feel when you were… clearly so fucking attracted to him. You’d take it to the grave, but Hangman was right. You felt something inexplicable and sharing this bed was only blurring those lines terribly.

“What time is it?” You gazed at the window. Still looked pretty early.

“5am.”

“Our body clocks are pathetic, we’re on a weekender,” you said dismally. You wanted to remember what a sleep-in felt like. You imagined in your previous lives you were really good at sleeping past sunrise but you knew as you watched the colours over Bradley's shoulders that the sun would be soon and bring a beautiful day with it by the lake.

He grinned, and it was the first time he ever smiled at you where it met his eyes, his divine honey-coloured orbs. “Why don’t you go back to sleep? I’ll go for a run and let you have some time alone,” he said, pushing himself from the bed and stretching. His body was glorious, but you couldn’t ogle him like this. He started sifting through this leather weekend bag, looking for his gym clothes and trainers.

“Rooster?”

“Yeah, kid?” He looked up expectedly as you pulled the duvet back up maintaining as much decency your nightshirt allowed. His eyes darted from your thighs to your face, and if you blinked, you'd have missed the way his tongue darted out and wet his lower lip.

“It’s your break too…” you rolled your back away from him and snuggled back into the pillow. You knew he was perplexed but when the bed gently rocked and he got back under the covers and snuggled up behind you, resting his calloused palm on your hip, he breathed, and you heard his lungs shake. The power in the room had changed and you were both confused, but this felt just right.

"You burn hot," he told you softly.

"I've been told," you smiled gently to yourself as he chuckled quietly, and adjusted his hand to rest flush against your belly, his cheek snuggled into your shoulder.

But you knew it implicitly: you wanted Bradley Bradshaw…

And you probably always had.

SEND ME A PROMPT, I’LL WRITE YOU A DRABBLE.

A/N: the tag list no longer exists. To keep up to date, give @notroosterbradshaw-library a follow x

[foxybouquet]

💕🎁HAPPY BIRTHDAY OAKIE!!!!🎂🎉

@ramblingoak, you must be one of the kindest, most generous, most wonderful hype girl for others in this fandom (and in life, I'm certain!) and you've definitely earned a spot in all of our hearts! You never fail to make a day better for a friend, and you've always got something sweet or helpful to say.

Needless to say, you're also a ridiculously talented writer, a world-builder whose character-driven fics have me and so many coming back to revisit your stories many, many times again! What can I say, you're just wondrous! And I hope you celebrate today fully, joyously, and with as much generosity toward yourself as you show to others! You are magnificent!!! 💖💖💖

Oh, and The Cardinal would like to give you a taste...🎂

[moominsuki]

✎ᝰ GOJO SATORU ; — i hate how you make feel while simultaneously being so incredibly unfeeling

࿄ ! warnings - afab!reader, angst, lowkey reader is a meanie but she has reasons, okay! no other warnings :}

love is fruitless with gojo satoru.

he’s attractive enough - shiny grey-blue eyes, tall, tan: the whole shebang and it’s no wonder that girls fall at his feet for a single chance to bed the man. and, in a twist of fate: when a lucky girl gets to have gojo in her room, she’s met with the night of her life before he slips into the night, inconsequential and cold to the world - as if he hadn’t ran his hands on her naked body.

that being said, once you get to know him, you come to realise it is virtually impossible to be around gojo without wanting to pull your hair out. you once told him that you couldn’t be around him without feeling the urge to pull out handfuls of your hair. he laughed at that; bandage crinkling across his eyes and rows of bright teeth blaring haughtily at you.

even at moments that would require some warmth and thought-provoking soul searching, he’d look at you with the same expression he always gives - one of faux joyousness and a chastising turn of his lips poking fun at you because you felt something that happened to be the antithesis to what he’s feeling… if gojo could actually feel anything at all - given how he presents himself. how could you ever enjoy the presence of someone like that?

“what do you think of gojo, y/n-san?” asks utahime across the chabudai and you snicker, the sourness noticeable even in the tone of your laughter - if you could even call it that - ‘laughing.’

“arrogant. egotistical. one track minded. sometimes i want to wring my hands around his neck to get him to be quiet but-” (utahime giggles slightly at your words and you beam a little - only a little).

“it’s not fair to speak about someone when they’re not here to defend themselves,” interjects a voice and you can practically hear the pout in his tone.

“who said i was being fair?” you hum, a sip of ginger and lemon tea running past your lips and it does little to satiate the rumble in your gut and the rise of acrid bile in your throat. damn you, acid reflux.

“well, if we’re being unfair to each other, i think utahime should ask me what i think about you,” says gojo pointedly and he sits cross legged at the low table - raising what seems to be a brow under his many layers of bandages.

“for your information, we were not playing a game-”

“no, you can go on and ask him, utahime. i’m a big girl. i can take it.” you narrow your eyes at the white haired man when you say that and it’s somewhat laughable that even though he’s sat down, at your level, gojo is ridiculously too statuesque to look right at you - prompting what you can feel is a fiery blush erupt on your cheeks when he leans down. you want to kill him so badly. just who does he think he is?

“um… o-ok, if that’s alright with you then… what do you think of y/n, gojo?”

a beat passes and you hold down a swallow, a gulp, at the silence that ruminates the staff room. gojo looks away, as if in deep thought and you roll your eyes at the over the top act.

the man leans down again, elbows on the chabudai, “i think y/n is afraid. constantly running from anything that invokes even the slightest bit of fear and feeling in her bones,” and utahime chokes in disbelief, shaking the palpable heavy tension in the room.

“i don’t think i’ve ever met a jujutsu sorcerer with traits as undesirable as those- i mean, have you, utahime? talk about a red herring.”

another beat passes and you haven’t said a word; if the furrowing of your eyebrows and embittered scowl on your lips was anything short of an answer, though, then gojo had definitely hit a nerve.

unfortunately for utahime, if gojo goes low, you simply go lower.

“huh. maybe you think you’re right about me, gojo…” and he smirks, victorious in this little dance that you’re both caught up in - with utahime caught in the superfluous torrent of it all and you let a moment pass, you let gojo believe he’s won before you continue, “but it actually couldn’t be further from the truth. at least i’m deliberate about what i let others perceive about me. you want to know what i really think of gojo satoru? i think ‘how can someone as powerful and omnipotent as you be so unimaginative… so boring and so miserably orchestrated?’”

you look down at your hands, playing with the rings on your fingers and wanting to avoid the looks of the other two heads in the room, shaking in belligerent disgust and just second hand audacity.

“above all, though… gojo satoru is all too obvious yet not at the same time. it becomes neither cool or interesting when you pretend to be some suave and sexy man who strolls through life. no one knows gojo better than he knows himself and he knows that every night, when the capes and the glasses and the- the fucking bandages come off, all what stares back at him is what he attempts to hide and that’s when he really starts to feel. in the four walls of his empty room with empty eyes staring back.”

you finally look back up to see a pair of disbelieving eyes staring back at you and you can feel another boring into your soul. the bile sits at the back of your throat again and a pang knocks at the edge of your heart.

“i may be scared but you’re terrified and you go about your life like you’re not constantly thinking - worrying. if my problem is that i don’t let myself feel enough then, gojo, yours is that you pretend to feel and act superior to us normal people because you’re a fraud.”

you’re panting - breathless - by the end of it and your eyes widen, burning and brimming at the implication of what you’ve just said. your hands are clammy and the burning - the sourness starts to grow all over again. you can’t bear to look at gojo for even a second before stumbling from under the seat and storming out of the room.

consequently, that evening after the whole debacle, with gojo sporting a frown that didn’t curl up once even in the company of his students, does gojo let himself feel something. and it feels pretty damn good.

he just wishes that it hadn’t come from you of all people.

࿄ ! — all rights reserved © moominsuki. please do not copy, translate, repost nor recommend my work outside of tumblr. this is strictly prohibited.

[val-creative]

Fictober Day 19: “this is getting ridiculous”

Barbie/Barbie (Barbie 2023)

For @fictober-event Day 19 prompt!

Type: Fanfiction | Fandom: Barbie (2023) | Ship: Barbie Handler/Weird Barbie | Warnings & Triggers: None!

---

All throughout Barbie Land...

"Hi, Barbie~!"

"Hi, Barbie~~! Oh, you're so pretty♥~!"

"YOU'RE so pretty♥~~♥~, Barbie!"

"*I* was pretty once..."

"We know, Weird Bar--I mean, Barbie."

"Yeahhh... I know you know."

"This is getting ridiculous."

Stifling a yawn, Barbara wakes up. A memory, she supposes. A memory of being a Barbie from Barbie Land, not Barbara Handler.

"You up?" Gloria asks cheerfully, knocking. "There's a visitor."

Barbara, in fluffy bunny-slippers and a robe, wanders to the front door opened. A woman, taller than Barbara, motions awkwardly.

"You look different," she blurts out, grinning wide. "Hotter, actually."

Confused, Barbara squints sleepily. Then, it hits her. It wasn't so easy to tell without the colorful, chopped hair and marker-scribblings.

"Oh my gosh... Barbie...?"

"Nah. Just call me weird," the other former-Barbie says, no less enthusiastic. "Or Preminger. For some reason, I really like Preminger."

Laughing joyously, Barbara hugs her, feeling real warmth.

"Awh. Missed you too, Barbasaurs-Rex."

[vibratingskull]

Sparring session

“Au where you're an imperial officer (with a crush on Thrawn obviously 🤭)but you're bad at sparring, so he offers to give you "private lessons" in his quarters, and once there, things quickly become a little spicy..😄” - @ele-millennial-weirdo

Tag List

It’s a Thrawn x gn!reader

warnings : a bit of blood, nsfw implied at the end

You crash down, your breath cut out and a shockwave spreading through your spine. You stay laying on the floor, contemplating the ceiling and why you accepted to practice sparring given your atrocious level. You hear your opponent laughing joyously and the congratulations of the little crowd of officers that came in to train during their break. 

You breathe deeply through your nose, still down, when you hear footsteps and a head comes into your field of vision. Two red orbs observe you with indifference and a pinch of disappointment. The room goes dead silent. 

"Lieutenant commander (y/l/n), is this the true level of combat an imperial officer is capable of?" 

Reality finally hits you and you jump on your feet, saluting your superior. 

"Sir, I'm sorry sir!"

Thrawn slowly shakes his head. 

"Such a level is inadmissible. You are supposed to represent the excellence of the Empire."

You nod shameful. You can’t believe he witnessed you ridicule yourself like that. Not him.

"Yes, sir. One on one combat has never been my forte, this is why I continue training."

He looks at you from head to toe, then glares at the rest of the group in the back of the room. His gaze goes back on you, you feel yourself cowers under his burning sight. 

"Clearly the training is inefficient. You will come see me tonight, I will give you a private lesson. Let’s hope I can instill you some techniques by the end of it. You are all dismissed, go back to your posts.” 

You all head towards the door hurriedly. A hand grasps your arm as you walk past the chiss, squeezing it gently. Your heart skips a beat as you look up to him.

“Do not expect me to go gentle on you, you are clearly behind the rest of the group. It is an immense task that is ahead of us.” He warns with a steady voice.

You gulp, nodding once again. He releases you and you run after your colleagues, a little bit of apprehension in your stomach.

______________________________

You enter Thrawn’s training room carefully, hearing muffled combat sounds. You see Thrawn fighting with an electrical staff against his two DT-series sentry droids. You don’t say a word, sliding yourself on the side of the room against the wall, admiring the spectacle before your eyes. Your heart flutters at the sight of his athletic abilities. He gives blow after blow, escaping the deadly grasp of these droids with ease and agility, he manages to put one on his knees and use it as springboard to jump and deliver a powerful kick in the head of the second one, knocking it over. Your eyes widen, taking measure of his actual level in combat. You’re gonna get your ass handed to you tonight. 

“Override code : Rukh.” He orders 

The droids raise up and shut down. He stands straight, you see his shoulder moving with his heavy breath. You approach with his towel that you hand to him, he slowly turns towards you and takes the fabric with gratefulness in his eyes.

“Right on time Lieutenant commander (y/l/n), I permitted myself to do a warm up.”

He rubs his face and the back of his neck, fixated on you.

“I can see that.”

You squirm a little. You’re intimidated by his feat in combat, and terrified at the idea of fighting him, you’re not gonna lie. He towers over you, eyeballing your form and muscles.

You cross your arms in front of you to flex your biceps by instinct, to not show how intimidated you are.

“So. What do we do?” you ask, masking effectively your nervousness.

“You will take the staff and we will fight each other.” He shoves the weapons into your hands.

Okay…

You are bad.

But not THAT bad.

You take offense to that.

“Are you sure of you, sir? I won’t hold back.” You warn

“Good. Me neither.” He answers unfazed.

You frown. You both take a combat stance and without warning you jump on him. You crash the spear on the ground, missing him by some inches. He takes the occasion and kicks you in your exposed ribs, propulsing you against the wall. You hold your stunned head, the shock was hard. You glare at him with anger. He raises an eyebrow with a grin. He gestures to you to come to him, taunting you. Ire spikes in your blood.

You will need to feint him, you think. You stand up, cracking your neck bones to ease your muscles. You throw yourself at him, swirling the staff but at the last second you dive and aim at his feet with a circling motion of your leg, he jumps to avoid it and you sink the weapon in his stomach and ignites it.

Electricity flashes before your eyes, blinding you. You hear a horrible scream and smell the scent of burning flesh.

You stop it, realizing your error.

You hear a thud as his body crashes down, unmoving. You look at him, horrified. 

What did you do?!

That could count as a murder attempt. 

You toss the staff, throwing yourself over him, checking for a pulse, for a breath, for anything that proves he’s still alive.

“Sir?! SIR?!” 

Eyes closed, he doesn’t respond. You lift his black tank shirt to see his stomach. 

It’s not pretty.

You clench your jaw. What are you going to do?! 

Suddenly, a hand seizes a fistfull of your hair and yanks you backward. You yelp with surprise and pain. You’re projected on the ground once again and a body rolls over yours, you throw a punch without thinking,hit, and get one in return. You plant your nails in his side, drawing blood and tearing the fabric apart. A powerful hand comes and claps your wrist, forcing you to let go  so you try kicking him down with your knees but he doesn’t budge. Desperate, you raise your bust and bite down his shoulder, you hear him hiss.

It isn’t any noble martial art anymore but a crude fistfight of the street between bloodied and bruised people. You roll like that for a minute, in a messy battle of scratches and bites, ripping both of your clothes. You lock him between your legs to prevent him from getting back the upper hand, your waists pressed against the his. You only hear the sound of hiss, grunts and gaps coming from both of you and the taste of blood in your mouth.

At one moment, everything came to a halt. He managed to pin your wrists besides your head, flashing you his canines and growling at you. You growl back, shaking your arms to free them. You lock eyes, both panting and bruised, you see blood dripping from his nose, and you feel it in your mouth. You both stay still waiting for the other to do something or break the silence, but you just look into each other's eyes. 

You’re captured by those shiny red orbs.

And suddenly, something switched.

Your lips crash together in a messy, deep kiss. Your tongues meet and hug the other, you put your hands in his hair, disheveling them. He holds your cheek with one hand and slides the other under what's left of your shirt to your chest, caressing the skin. Your blood mix and your limbs tangle. You squeeze your legs, pressing him harder against your pelvis, igniting both of your passions. You roll again, helping him to get rid of what’s left of his own shirt, you caress his sides and chest, you lick the blood you’ve drawn with your bite and hear him moan. He kisses your cheek, caressing your back and sliding one hand in your pants to the heart of your cravings. You wave your back at the touch, gasping. You came back to your senses seeing the blood and the glass shards on the floor.

“Here?” You ask incredulously.

“Here, on the floor, like beasts. It suits us both...” He pants with desire and pulls you for another kiss.

@bluechiss, @al-astakbar, @thrawnalani, @justanothersadperson93

[namecantbeblank]

I forget that the eggs are actually. Eggs and every so often I get reminded of how ridiculous they look with no armor on. Like they look so stupid and remind me of little chubby toddlers joyously running around I love it

[candywife333]

Endlessly

A short one shot from my blurb bucket list. 

Tears dripped down my face in torrents as I realized what I had to do. I had to leave this man. He didn't love or respect me. He never even wanted to be a friend. This marriage had shown me how much more I didn't belong in his life. I know he thought he was above me. I could tell by how he treated me throughout the entire duration of our sad little marriage.

Our parents were family friends. His parents were business tycoons who wanted to marry their son Park Jimin off to me, a hopeless nobody according to Jimin’s assessment of me throughout our schooling years. He had treated me like dust beneath his shoe when we were both in the same middle school and high school. We ran in the same circles as my parents owned a fancy bakery in the nice part of town. My parents had grown up with his parents and though we were never anywhere as rich as them, my parents provided me a comfortable upbringing. Jimin’s parents were extremely kind people who never acted arrogant, even though they owned a chain of extremely lucrative hotels. 

At the age of 16 Jimin had a Mercedes Benz, Rolex watch, a separate outhouse next to his parent’s estate, and the attention of any girl he wanted. 

At the same age, I had my cat, Sugarplum, my teddy bear, Roosevelt, my parents and our bakery. That was enough to tell you how different we were from one another. For some ridiculous reason, his parents thought that I would be the best girl to marry him to. I remember that day when I was paralyzed by shock when I came back from school one day to find them all in my living room. His mother, Mrs. Park had cracked open a warm smile as she saw me standing in from of the door as I awkwardly greeted them. 

My mom came from the kitchen exclaiming in a voice filled with hidden glee, “ Oh, Y/N. Baby, you are back from school. How was your day? Got any articles published for the school newspaper?” I quietly responded, “Yeah mom, getting ready to finalize some edits.” As I walked into the living room gingerly, thinking it was only Ms. Park and my mom, Jimin came in with my dad and his dad from our back yard. Mr. Park chimed in joyously, “ Y/n , You have grown so much. What a beautiful girl you have become.” Jimin coughed silently, laughing under his breath as I grimly realized that he didn’t share the same sentiment as his dad. 

I couldn’t see what Mr. Park meant either since I had just worn jeans and a long sleeve top to school. But I had not been brought up lacking manners, so I replied, “Thank you Mr. Park. Very kind of you to say so. How have you been doing? Would you like me to get you and Ms. Park some tea and cake?” The brightly smiling older man chuckled in a pleased fashion, “Why don’t you do that sweetheart. We have some good news for you when you come back.” 

I walked into the kitchen puzzled at what he was referring to. I came back with the refreshments and set then down on the table as my mom said, “Why don’t we let Y/N first finish college and then we can plan the wedding?” I almost fell off the couch. I felt like I had been slapped by a fish. What the freaking hell did she mean marriage!?? Were they trying to sell me off like a week old salmon in a fish market? And to who? 

I exclaimed in a rather nervous tone, “Mother, what are you talking about? What is going on here?” Mrs. Park started in a placating tone, “Sweet heart we were just talking about when Jimin and you would be married.” I almost choked as I screamed in terror, “EXCUSE ME?!” Mr. Park smiled as he continued, “Darling don’t frighten Y/N. Sweetheart don’t worry. We will wait till you and Jimin finish your under grad degrees and then we will plan the engagement and get you two hitched. It won’t be immediate. You will have time to get to know him.” Jimin sat there in silence with a neutral mask on his face as my face contorted in terror, making me retreat upstairs in utter shock. 

I could hear my dad say, “What do you say Jimin? Ready to take on your dad’s company?” I could hear as Jimin replied in a resolute manner , “Of course uncle. Once I get my business degree and finish my MBA, I will be able to take care of Y/N properly.” 

Contrary to what everyone thought, Jimin proceeded to treat me like an invisible being throughout the duration of our college years as well. We had ended up at our hometown college which happened to rank pretty highly across the country. Though I didn’t agree with this supposed marriage which both our parents had come up with, I thought we would at least get to know each other as friends. And then maybe eventually as a couple if we suited each other.

Jimin and I had run in different circles all throughout high school and middle school. The same trend continued in college. He hung out with other extremely handsome and privileged guys who would also eventually take over their family businesses as heirs. Just as he did in high School, he had a loyal fan following of beautiful well bred girls whose sole existence in college was to trap rich man in marriage. Anytime I would come across him, I would greet him. 

He would walk past me as though he never heard me. The girls he would hang with would always be teeming around him in a protective pentagon. He sure was satanic. His behavior and the way he acted above all others in school  had not changed. To top all this behavior all off with a cherry, he was known around campus for having a new girl every month. His dipshit friend Jungkook,  had coined the term, “new flavor of the month”, to describe his excessively promiscuous and nonchalant behavior. 

To my utter dismay, this man who I had known to never be husband material, continued to exemplify that he was the farthest thing from husband material the world had ever seen. He was as similar to husband material, as polyester was to silk. I had had some faith in the fact that he may change his behavior initially. As we almost ended our college years, I could tell that he wouldn’t change and he would carry this dismal behavior into a marriage that I never even wanted.

I told my mother numerous times as college ended, “ Please mom. Why do I have to marry him? He has the pick of the lot, so many attractive rich girls. Why me? Can’t he just marry one of those.” I started sobbing in frustration as I bit out in desperation , “He doesn't even greet me mom. He doesn't acknowledge my existence. He hates me. I don’t want to marry someone who hates me. You know me mom. I can’t survive with someone who hates my guts, someone who disrespects me. I am the closest thing to a fiancé he has and he doesn't even want to be friends. Why do you and father insist on ruining my life this way?”

To my shock my mother  started crying as well as she morosely said, “ I am so sorry my baby. I didn't know that he was treating you this way. His parents and I always thought he was a well mannered child so we had betrothed you to him when you were barely 10. His dad has a really bad heart condition. And since his dad and mom were your godparents, they wanted you to marry him because you are such a good girl. His father may pass soon, and he wanted see his son wedded to you before he passed.” 

“His parents really think you are the best person for Jimin. You are solid, trustworthy, loyal, beautiful, loving and a hard worker. Nobody in their circles, no matter how rich or vain they may be, amount to you in worth.” Your mother continued in a serious tone, “But sweetheart, if he is treating you like trash, I will tell his parents that this won’t work. They can find someone else for his ungrateful ass.” 

You laughed for the first time in a long time as your mother started cussing out Jimin for being a turd. But knowing yourself you knew what decision you would take. Your godparents had been there for you since you were born. They had taken care of you and your parents when your parents were initially setting up the bakery. 

You decided it then and there. You would marry Jimin and be with him for a few years. When it would get unbearably hard, when you would feel like dying, you would leave him. Inevitably the marriage would die, it was just a matter of time. And, you would be giving your godfather the gift of a wedding for his son. 

I laughed bitterly as my sob fest ceased. It had been 5 long years since  your marriage to Jimin at the age of 21. His father had been elated to see him married off to you. They treated me better than their own daughter this entire time. It almost made up for how badly Jimin had treated me. But that's the thing, almost was never enough. Every person had their limits. And I had hit mine. 

I started packing away whatever clothes you could fit into the suitcases. It had been enough. His cold behavior towards me, the disrespect of having random women over at the house, the disregard towards me as a partner. The tipping point had been when I was about to visit him at his office and heard moaning coming from inside the room. 

In these five years of being married to him I had developed a prowess as a writer and published so many books that had became a best seller. Under your clandestine alias, Strawberry, I had now accumulated a personal net worth of 50 million dollars USD. This progress had deemed me financially independent. I had never touched Jimin’s money since the beginning of the relationship. Whenever we went to galas with him for the purpose of PR for his company, he had provided me money to buy clothes and accessories. 

I had always been a chubby girl who wore glasses and nondescript clothing. But Jimin and most of the world didn't know that I had a personal sense of fashion and beauty sequestered in my closet ready to unleash to the world once I divorced this ungrateful shit. The plan to leave had been in the works since the day of the wedding. Five years of building, brooding, working hard, and patience had earned me the right to a divorce. Even when I married him, he never tried to get to know me. 

I had tried to be his friend, taking care of him when his dad was sick in the hospital on multiple occasions. There were days Jimin didn't even get out of bed because of the sheer misery of his father’s condition. I had supported him that time, sleeping with him when he was lonely and crying in bed in the middle of the night. We had separate bedrooms, but he had come crying to my bed at midnight one night , sobbing profusely as he crumbled into my arms. “I--I-I can’t do this y/N, I can’t see him die with my own eyes. I love my dad, I can’t imagine life without him.” 

He wretched and sobbed for what seemed like eternity as he lay in my bed, snuggled in my arms as he tried catching his breath. I had stroked him on the head, patting him on his back, rocking him to bed as though he were a baby. At the time he had settled against me exhausted with his arms encompassing my waist. His face had burrowed into my chest as he fell asleep, tired from his crying fit. This incident had repeated itself so many times during the course of our marriage. The worst part was when he would act like a completely different person every morning after his crying tirades. He would seek solace in my arms in the nights and become like a cold, impenetrable version of himself the very next day. I was his emotional support animal, and he was the man I could never call my own.   

Reminiscing all those times made silent tears trail down my face as I faced the whiplash of memories. I had tried making him breakfast, packing his lunches, and had tried my hardest to at least be his friend if I could not be his partner. He would let me do all this for him, without appreciation or gratitude. He would eat my food and treat me like a stranger. Treat me like I had never existed. He never remembered my birthday, never concerned himself with my needs. 

When I had tried to kiss him on his lips, trying to making the first move one time, he had spelled out in no uncertain terms, “ You are only my wife in name. Don’t try to make this relationship anything else than what it should be, a PR relationship. And how could you think I would ever be attracted to you? Do you ever look at yourself in the mirror? Learn to take care of yourself. How could you continue to look like a slob your whole life? You’ve seen who I dated in school since we were kids. Did any of them ever look like you?” 

He walked away like nothing had happened, as I crumbled to the ground crying, injured by the one person I had tried so hard to get close to. That night had led me to understand that he was way above my league, at least according to his standards. If this was a PR relationship, then why did he cry to me at night? Why did he come to me wounded,  expecting me to complete him and in the same breath stab me in the heart for caring? 

I had to leave. I had to leave. I had to.

JIMIN’S POV

As most marriages go, they are usually banal affairs. Unexciting and monotonous. Duties and responsibilities littered my brain as I came home early. As I looked for the wife I would never in a million years have thought would be mine,  I stumbled upon some photos in her room. Nudes of a full figured girl dominated the frame of the polaroid photos scattered around the floor. I choked in utter shock at the slip of a stocking and a flash of her bosom. 

I picked up the photos, shocked at how beautiful they looked. This was my wife? The quiet girl who even in our school days simply seemed like the kind girl next door? She wore these stockings underneath her everyday clothes? My pants felt uncomfortably tight as I ventured further into her room. 

 Why were clothes littered all over her room? She was usually extremely organized. She ran our house as tight as a captain would run their ship. Everything was always cleaned and in its place. As I ventured further into her room, I saw piles of lingerie of shapes and sizes I never imagined on her bed. Where was she ? And what was she doing with all these clothes? If it wasn't for me, then who was she entertaining? Rage filled my gut as I couldn't imagine her betraying me with another man. 

On the bed, I saw official documents. One word caught my eye, filling me with dread, my panic continued to rise as a I clutched papers to my face with latent fury. It read,  “DIVORCE SETTLEMENT DOCUMENTS”.  I yelled in a full blown nervousness, “ Y/N where are you? What are you doing? What are these papers?!? Y/N?!” 

In the utter chaos wreaking havoc upon my mind,  I opened the door to her bathroom, and I almost fainted. Y/N was decorated in a red lace thong with a blood red bra and stockings to match. Her voluptuous stomach gripped the strings of the thong as her thick ass swallowed up the thong string. Stretch marks climbed in spirals along her hips as her bra struggled to house her breasts. Her thick thighs were encased in transparent red thigh high stockings. 

I couldn’t even hear her screaming as I continued to stare at her body in undisguised, mind numbing lust and adoration. I had never seen my wife naked. I had never even touched her or any other woman for the entire duration of our marriage. I may be a bastard, but I was loyal to my wife. And my dick that had been dead from the antidepressants and grief at my father’s condition, came to life. 

Y/N yelled in frustration, waving her hands in front of me to get out of the room. I marched up to her as the cloud of  lust magnified within me. She cowered away from me, placing hands to cover her breasts and pussy. I took hold of her arms easily, wrenching them to the side as I studied her beautiful body up close. If I had known this was how my wife looked like, I would have never made it to work on time every morning. 

What startled me was the sniffling though. I panicked as I looked up to see her crying profusely with the most abject grief in her eyes. I had hurt her somehow. She was usually the most neutral, cold faced girl I had ever come across in my life. Her facial expressions never showed emotion except for the times when I would hurt her, when I was so weighed down by the grief of my father that I would lash out at her.  Little did she know how elated I was to marry her the day of our wedding. 

Growing up an only child without many real friends made me a very unexpressive person, but when I loved someone, I loved them deeply. And my wife was clearly hurt so badly. I had hurt her so badly, that she was considering divorce. As it all clicked into place, I wrapped my arms around her and rocked her in my arms, soothing her, “Tell me what is going on baby? What is happening? What did I do to hurt you? Why are you trying to leave me?”

She tried batting away my arms that settled around her hips and backside. But I wouldn’t let her go. I had messed up so badly and once I saw those papers, my mind whirled with terror. I couldn’t survive without this woman. She was my life source, my rock, and she couldn’t leave me. She shouted out in a cracked voice, “ You don’t love me! YOU DON’T CARE FOR ME. GET AWAY FROM ME!! YOU CAN GO MARRY SOME SKINNY CHIC WHO YOU HAVE BEEN FUCKING IN THE OFFICE DAY AND NIGHT! NOW LET ME GO, YOU TURD!!

I grabbed on to her tighter, confused at her accusations, “Baby what are you talking about? I haven't touched any girl in the five years we have been married.”

She wheezed in disbelief, “Liar, why are you always doing this to me? You are as cold as a stone, you freeze me out when you feel like it. And I heard the moaning coming from your office, and all the women you have been parading around my house, cheating on me with. Well I am done, I have been done for a long time. I am clearly unattractive and ugly and not in shape. I want to leave, I want a divorce. I do not want even a penny from you, but I have to leave. You are not healthy for me. This is not a healthy marriage.” 

All of her words hit my like trucks as I begged with her, “Sweetheart, I never meant to make you believe that I have been disloyal. All those women at our house were my business partner’s sisters and family. That’s why they would greet you when they came in to the house.  They run a family led corporation , and all of them had come here for business meetings.” As she became quiet, I continued, “ The day you came to see me at the office must have been when my PA twisted her ankle. The physical therapist and I were both in the room with her. She was moaning in pain because it was a completely avulsed tendon. I am so sorry I made you believe otherwise, that you are not the only woman in my life.” 

“I know how horribly I conducted my self in school .  You always saw me around girls and so you thought that behavior of sleeping around would continue into our marriage. I would never do that to you. You are the only one who truly cares about me. And I was a shallow piece of shit for making you fell unattractive. The day I put you down for your appearance, was the worst day of my life. Dad was getting his prosthetic heart valve replacement surgery and I was so stressed. Mom was crying and I didn’t know what to do, that I lashed out at you when you had nothing to do with it.”

As her crying ceased, she tried to get out of my embrace, but I wouldn’t let her. “Baby, please give me a chance to make it right. I know I have treated you dismally, less than human. But I love you, I have loved you since the day we got married. I just never knew how to show it to you. You have always been so independent, self sufficient, never relying on me for anything. I almost thought you never needed me. And the grief made me an even worse person than I thought I was capable of being.” 

Y/N took a huge gulp of air as she exclaimed, “I don’t believe that you are attracted to me or that you love me. You have treated me horribly for years, and I never even felt like we were married. I felt like a roommate who you just used for emotional support. Then you would freeze me out and insult me when I tried to help you. Anyways, you like skinny girls who don’ t look like me, why don’t you just go and find one. I will divorce you and you will never hear from me again. And I will find someone who loves me, who thinks that kissing me and showing affection to me is not a chore.” 

I started panicking. I was ridiculously attracted to her from the beginning, but the depression medication had literally made me a sexless creature for the past five years. But now she thought that I was not attracted to her, when in fact it was the medication which I had recently been tapered off of by my doctor. What if I couldn't convince her that it was all the medication? She would leave me, and I would crumble into tiny pieces, because I couldn't live without her. 

I explained in a frantic voice, “Baby, it was the medication. I was on antidepressant medication for so long and it killed my sex drive so badly. I couldn’t even have sex if I wanted to, it killed my erection. How can I show you that you are a goddess to me? I don’t even deserve to be next to you. I loved you since we were in 7th grade. But I got so nervous around you that I couldn't even speak when you greeted me. Whenever you would talk to me, I literally felt like dying of nerves. I wanted to talk to you so much when we were going through school, but my anxiety crippled me.  I never wanted to make you feel undesirable.” 

As she looked at me in indecision, I swooped down to kiss her passionately against her lips, opening up her mouth to receive my tongue. I gripped her exposed butt and squeezed, “Please let me prove to you that you are all I will ever need.” I nuzzled my face against her neck, biting and pecking against it as my hands massaged up her hips, trying to find the string to her thong that I could unravel. Her eyes twinkled with what looked like hope as she whispered, “You can try.”

------Please let me know if I should release the rest of the smut for this one shot. 

[finch-velutina]

Gear 5 Foreshadowing/Analysis

One of the things that absolutely delighted me about gear 5 was how natural it felt for Luffy. It was Luffy to a T - which is what makes it so incredible! That's the best part of him :)

I learned about Gear 5/Joyboy/Sun God Nika like a month after starting One Piece, and I was just able to see how every element of the show was building up to this.

luffy vs. kaido fight spoilers under readmore

GEAR 5 GEAR 5 GEAR 5!!

Part of the reason it feels so natural is because of how it shows that the Devil Fruit's Awakening builds on Luffy's growth and understanding of his powers, particularly his use of all 4 gears, which are all incorporated and clearly referenced in the Gear 5 fight:

Gear 1- Luffy interacting with lightning!! Because since we have known since Skypiea, rubber is nonconductive, meaning luffy isn't affected by it. Luffy grabbing the lightning strikes and using it to catapult him around? That's gomu gomu no rocket! On top of that, he manages to become the lightning and swoop towards Kaido (in a move that looks a lot like Python). He's able to combine his base rubber powers in a wild and wacky way, and absolutely loves it :)

Gear 2 comes in play in this incredible screenshot from the fight after Luffy restarts the Drums of Liberation. Gear 2 is also about controlling bloodflow and breathing - and by extension, the heartbeat!! Its all there. Thank Gear 2 for luffy's auto-defibrillation skills.

Gomu Gomu no Giant is the logical progression of Gear 4 Boundman, (which builds on gear 2 and gear 3 as well). It's like a version of Luffy without the additions

Gear 3: ... Yeah, this one is pretty obvious.

But the most important aspect of Luffy it brings in from his previous fights is his silliness. From the shocked face Crocodile gives him when he sees Water Luffy to Kaido's eyes popping out as he uses him as a jump rope. Things that seem meaningless, like his Gomu Gomu no UFO move. (I had to include this because I thought about how Joyboy it was from the moment i saw it. He's just joyously having fun in weird ways!! <3)

The magic of Gear 5 is in how everything from before comes together and combines seamlessly, which brings us to section 2:

Foreshadowing of Joyboy

Luffy has always been the sun. Tanjiro has nothing on Luffy for Most Sun Coded Anime Protagonist. Luffy is from the East Blue on Dawn Isle. One could say he rose from the East. The beginning of his story is called romance DAWN. This is from other posts that delve into it more, but luffy has been liberating people from the start- Koby, Zoro, Shells Town. Thats just how he rolls, it's part of his existence- Luffy will see someone oppressed, think "Is anyone going to help them free themselves?" and not wait for an answer. Punching a celestial dragon? That's ridiculous. But Luffy was made to do ridiculous things.

Skypiea, which is where we learn about Joyboy, has Luffy facing off against Enel and winning easily because of his nonconductiveness - the true god destroying the false one.

On Fishman Island, he frees Shirahoshi from her prison and promises to take her to see the sun. Another aspect is the symbol of the sun pirates being changing the celestial dragon's slavemark into a SUN. Luffy also takes away the giant shadow of Noah hanging over them.

Dressrosa? Known for it's SUNflowers.

When Luffy loves and accepts sanji, freeing him, the sun literally dawns on him. One of my fave moments with him. (To go into sanji & his wano arc i would need a whole different 1000 word essay on him. Bbg u are simply so fucked up)

Wano arc amps up the dawn = freedom references by 100. referencing the dawn 24/7, having luffy become a slave

Luffy has always been free because he is himself.

[santacoppelia]

Cackling and snorting.

One of the most powerful things that I got from my tendency to "mimic" characters I like after Good Omens s2 is... snorting.

Yup. I tend to laugh really loudly since forever (well, I also speak "like you have an integrated loudspeaker", according to my brothers). My mother and father worked really hard on "making me less loud" (socializing your neurospicy kids during the 80's was hard) and by the time I reached adolescence I managed to not laugh as loud, not cry and mostly compact every emotional reaction ('ello, years of therapy, again!)

After getting in a better emotional and mental space, I started crying, and also recovered my "boisterous laugh". However, I was totally self conscious about snorting. "It makes me sound ridiculous". "It is childish!". Therefore, I tried not to snort most of the time. I even stopped laughing if I felt a snort coming.

But, on Good Omens s2, Anthony J. Crowley, that "cool, collected, aloof" person-shaped eldritch entity, snorts EVERY SINGLE TIME he laughs. He not only has a small, goofy laugh... HE SNORTS joyously!

I've found myself snorting much more since discovering that, and I find a lot of happiness in rediscovering that silly happy noise coming from myself. That's an acting choice that I should be thanking David Tennant for, but it really comes with the character, so I'll leave it in the "Anthony J. Crowley" mindspace.

[mini-munchers]

Blood, Sweat, and Tears—To Love Someone

Chapter 5 of ?: Pique

Pairing: March x Non-Binary Farmer (Ari)

Words: 4080

Warnings: language, the author does not understand blacksmithing, verbal fighting

Summary: Mistria is in a dire state after the earthquake hit. Adeline has invited a new adventurer to town to help out. March knows they won't last. Adventurers never last in Mistria. He can't wait to see Ari fail.

Chapter Summary: March decides to do something about the adventurer. Ari gets a surprise.

(No beta, we die like Dragonsworn.)

----------

The sun rose high over Mistria, the late heat of spring beating down on the small town. Summer would be arriving all too soon. Juniper had said at the inn last night that there was no chance of clouds or rain for a few days. Sounded like good forging weather to March. If only it wasn’t so hot. The back of his shirt was already drenched as he worked at the forge.

March had been feeling a buzz of excitement all morning. He’d dropped the letter off in Ari’s mailbox early before the sun rose. He was baiting them into a trap, he knew, but it was time they got some honesty. He hadn’t seen them in a few days, but he heard the praises everyone was singing about them.

“Ari had that tea party with Maple! She enjoyed it so much,” Reina had said as she talked to him while making him a meal.

“Ari helped me round up the animals before that bad spring storm rolled in the other day,” Hayden commented as he’d helped March move some of Merri’s furniture with Olric.

“Oh Ari? You wouldn’t believe the amount of product they're shipping! We’re bursting with fresh produce,” Nora revealed, tapping her clipboard as March helped move stock around the store.

“The museum is getting off to a great start thanks to their donations!” Errol stated as he went over the museum’s catalog of exhibited species and specimens.

“They’re helping uncover the mystery that is Mistria” Eiland exclaimed one night at the inn.

“They frequent the bathhouse, it’s good for business,” March had heard Juniper mention to Josephine as he entered the bathhouse.

“I’ve never had such a full woodpile in all my years!” Landen laughed joyously as he clapped his nephew on the shoulder while taking the latest delivery of nails.

“They sword fighted with me! I won! And they even gave me a wooden sword!” Dell shouted, thrashing a small, craved wooden sword about.

“‘They had a sword fight with me,’” Celine corrected. “Use your inside voice, Dell.”

“The town coffers are filling up fast thanks to their help! We’ve never exported so much before!” Adeline said, sipping her tea at the inn.

“Luc loved the chickpeas they brought in during Spring. Reina roasted them up with some salt and they turn out so crunchy! Luc got so excited.” Hemlock commented as he poured March a beer. “You should try some next Spring.”

Ari this, Ari that. All the praise irked him. They didn’t deserve it. So what if they were bringing people stuff? So what if they were entertaining the kids? That just meant they were goofing around. They couldn’t last. They wouldn’t last. He would ensure it.

The idea to bait them into his trap had come to him yesterday while talking with Balor.

“I’m sorry March, I have to find a new supplier again” Balor sighed after March had asked about his latest shipment.

“What? Why?”

“The price the current supplier was charging was too high. Five hundred Tesserae for a single ingot? That’s ridiculous. So, I politely told him to go fuck himself.” Balor smirked. “He even sent me a letter yesterday telling me off!” Balor let out a snort as he adjusted the wares on his cart. “I have never seen someone so childish and petty in my life.”

“I have,” muttered March.

----------

“Hi March!” Ari walked into the shop, the door bell jingling behind them. March looked up from behind the counter only to be blinded by their bright, flowery smile. It looked like they were putting it on extra thick today. He studied them for a minute. They wore a pale yellow tank top, black miniskirt, and the white tights they always seemed to wear. They looked like a bee. March stopped as he saw the scar on their left arm. It ran from the inner wrist to the elbow. Long, jagged, dark, and ugly. Another one rose from their chest, stretching haphazardly to their shoulder. How did they get those? Never mind, it wasn’t important to him.

“I didn’t think you’d actually show.”

“What? Why not?” He noticed the eye bags under their eyes as they approached. More welts and bruises covered their arms. What had they been up to? It didn’t matter. Now was his time to finally shine. No one was around to chide him. No one was around to protect Ari from the truth. He was going to let loose on them at last.

“I just figured you’d be slacking off.” He let himself lean on the counter, crossing his arms on the cool granite, trying to add to the air of his nonchalance.

Ari laughed. “March, I haven’t slacked off a day since I have been here. I have a job to do.”

“Hmph,” he huffed, pushing himself off the counter and coming around to stand in front of it. “I hear you’ve been making yourself useful around town.”

“I try,” Ari replied. “It’s hard work, but it’s not too bad.”

“Everybody only has good things to say about you.”

“That’s so nice!” Their damn smile brightened even more. How annoying. “It’s been lots of fun helping out!”

“Fun? Ugh.” March rolled his eyes.

Ari blinked at him, smile faltering. “What? It is fun…”

“Come on, we both know what’s ACTUALLY going on here.” Finally. FINALLY. March knew his words were going to sting.  He knew they would get under Ari’s skin. And it brought him immense pleasure.

“I don’t know what you are talking about…” Ari’s eyebrows knit together, frown deepening. Their eyes were locked with his, confusion shooting out like an arrow and flying right at him. He was winning.

“Oh please,” he started. “ You’re in way over your head. You come out here, no money, no experience, and you think you can just fake your way through running a farm?”

“I-what?”

“And now everyone in town acts like it was YOU who won the first-place blacksmithing trophy three years running. It’s all fun and games now, but the second things actually get tough, I’m sure you’re going to ditch Mistria and its problems. Just like every other adventurer before you has.”

“I…” Ari paused for a moment before a bright burst of red took over their cheeks. “I’m not going anywhere!”

“We’ll see.”

Finally, after all this time, Ari cracked. Their anger showed through like a deep red moon in a clear night’s sky. Bright, direct, burning. Their mask had crumbled. He’d egged them on enough to see their true colors at last.

“Who the fuck do you think you are, March?” Ari approached him, anger clear in their voice. “I’m here, trying to help! And you’ve done nothing but be rude to me! I’m not expecting you to be grateful. I don’t care what people feel about me. I don’t demand respect. But at least be honest with me for fucks sake. What the hell are you trying to say?”

He’d broke Ari. He’d broke Ari. Glee pooled in his gut. He was getting a rise out of them at last.

“You want me to be honest? I know your game. You’re just here to take your stupid renown. You just want something to hold to your name. You’re just stupid capital scum, nothing more. Barely worthy of the title of adventurer.”

“You don’t know what I have been through, March.” Ari’s spat as their eyes narrowed. “You don’t know the pain and sacrifice it took to get here. Everything I have lost, you don’t know jack shit about it.” Ari approached and thrust a finger into March’s chest.” I am damn worthy of my title as an adventurer! But you wouldn’t know anything about that. I bet you’ve never even left this town!”

“Of course I’ve left Mistria.” March slapped their finger away. Ari stared up at him, seemingly begging him to go on. “I had to do my internship somewhere to be accepted to the blacksmithing guild! Cassius Smithy and Jewelry in the capital gladly took me on as an apprentice. I worked for two damn years in the hellhole. You don’t know shit, Ari.”

Ari looked like they had been stricken. They backed up slowly. “Cassius…? There is no way you got into Cassius’.”

“Heard of it? I’m sure you went there on daddy’s dime. Oh wait, they only service the highest of nobility. I don’t think you’re that important in the grand scheme of things.” March pointed to a certificate on the wall. 

‘Excellence in Craft - Cassius Smithy and Jewelry’

“Read it and weep, adventurer,” March sneered.

Ari paused, tears suddenly brimming around the edges of their eyes. “You’re the one who doesn’t know shit, March! You know absolutely nothing about me and dare to challenge who I am. You think a noble would be an adventurer? You think I chose this life? Well, think again. I’m here and I am doing my job. And I plan to do it to completion!”

“You think you can hack it for the long haul?” March walked over to the counter where the tools were displayed. He grabbed the copper hoe and threw it at Ari who fumbled the catch, just managing to grab it before it slipped through their fingers. “If you fail, you can’t blame it on a lack of help from me. Who knows, maybe you’ll surprise me. I doubt it though. All you adventurers share the same lack of persistence. I’ll be keeping an eye on you. See you around, Ari.”

And with that, March turned and walked back to his drafting desk. There was a soft rustling followed by a loud ‘thunk’ before the door slammed shut a moment later, the bell banging against the glass of the door. He swore that he heard a loud cry of frustration come from outside the smithy. A wicked smirk consumed him. That was just the push Ari needed. They’d be gone in no time.

When he finally got up from working on blueprints, he noticed something lying on the floor near the main counter. He walked over and picked it up, turning it over in his hand slowly. It was still covered in dirt, so he brushed it off, cursing Ari for bringing something so dirty into his shop. He paused as he looked at it. An iron ore. How in the world did Ari get that? He knew from Olric’s recountings that iron was more than 20 levels down in the mines. There was no way they had gotten that deep.

There was no way…

----------

March headed out to the forge, ready to work on his latest project from the capital. Yet another display piece. This time, a Caldosian-style rapier. The client had requested the guard and pommel be gold, with extra silver inlay framing the decorative cuts in the guard. Tedious work, but he could get it done before tonight.

March started the forging process, first heating the gold and forming the guard. He punched the metal to form small holes, then grabbed his hot chisel and started cutting the metal, expanding the holes. He placed the hot gold back in the forge, then grabbed a silver ingot to throw in the forge to start melting.

Right as he placed the metal into the forge, a lone cloud appeared to block the sun. It floated just south of town, white, fluffy, harmless. March observed it, noticing how small it was. Just one cloud. He shrugged and turned back to his forge, poking the fire to stoke the flames higher.

It took a minute for him to realize that it was getting dark. March looked back up to the sky, puzzled. Juniper had said no clouds, no rain. But somehow the lone cloud had morphed into a sea of dark clouds. Something wet hit March on his shoulder, and then all hell broke loose.

The downpour didn’t start with a small drizzle. No, it unleashed all at once, rain flooding the streets.

“SHIT.”

March dropped his stoker and shut the door of the forge before covering his head and running for the smithy. The rain came down in pounding sheets, killing any visibility he had. He’d almost missed the shop door entirely, the heavy rain blocking his line of sight almost completely. He yanked the door open and retreated into the dryness of the building.

He was soaked. From the top of his head to the soles of his boots. Water pooled underneath him, dripping off in heavy drops. What had just happened? There had been no sign of rain, no clouds. And then… torrential downpour. It confused him.

The rain seemed to scream ‘fuck you,’ keeping him from his work. March walked to the bathroom, leaving a trail of small puddles after him. He grabbed a towel and walked back to look out the front windows. There was zero visibility, none. He shook his hair with the towel, noticing the way fresh dye from yesterday stained the white towel red. Great.

Within 5 minutes of rolling in, the clouds dissipated almost instantly, leaving a clear sky and rising steam in their wake. How had it happened? March knew the weather didn’t work like that. It was damn near impossible for rain to roll in so suddenly and then disappear just as fast.

As he stepped back outside, March took his boots off one by one, dumping out the water that had pooled in them. The forge was still burning, thank god, but the gold of the guard had melted too much to be salvaged by the time he got back to it. He’d have to redo the guard. March groaned and threw his towel on the ground.

----------

“That was magical rain,” Juniper said with little interest as she sat at the bar that evening. She was sipping a wine that Valen had bought them to share. Probably expensive, knowing Valen.

He hadn’t come to the inn looking for answers about the rain exactly. But given the way Juniper seemed to know the weather better than anyone, she probably had an idea of what happened. So, he asked. But magic?

“What?” March stared at her dumbfounded. “Mag-there is no way. That’s not real!”

“I don’t know, March.” Valen mused, grabbing Juniper’s hand and raising it to her lips. “There’s more to the world than you think.”

“I-” March looked back to Juniper.

“Why don’t you go ask Ari about it? I’m sure they’ll have some answers.” Juniper smirked at him, rolling her glass of wine.

“Fuck you!” March stormed off. Ari. Of course, it was Ari. If they had answers, he was going to get them.

“Woah, I’ve seen that before. Sounds like someone is down ba-”

March didn’t hear the rest of what Hemlock said as he threw the door open and exited the inn.

----------

Ari stared at the slice of cake on the table, a lone candle burning down slowly. ‘Happy birthday to me,’ they thought. No family or friends to wish them a happy birthday. No one in Mistria even knew that it was today. Ari didn’t bother to tell anyone. Not like they had the chance with all the work they’d been doing and errands they’d been running. Twenty-three years old and they sat all alone in a run-down cabin on a forgotten farm, energy thin from the exhausting day. What had their life turned into? Quietly, they muttered a ‘happy birthday’ to themself and blew out the candle.

If they were back at the guild hall, it would have been an all-out party. Noisemakers and balloons, pizza and lemonade. A rare delicacy for the guild. The guild never carried many Tesserae in it’s stores, but what it did carry made sure to allow for special moments of celebration. Ari remembered the gift they had gotten from the guild last year, a new quilt for their bed. They looked over to the bed now, admiring the gift they had made sure to pack. The bright colors of the fabric, the invisible warmth of the thick batting, the tight stitches that led to perfect corners. 

Ari knew how to quilt. They had learned it when they were little. Just one of the litany of ‘ladies’ hobbies’ they’d had to learn to please mother and fit into high society. Did they like to do it? Hell no. But could they? Yeah. Trench had made the quilt for them. It had taken months, he said. Picking the fabric was the hardest part. But the most important part was the little piece of Antonio that had been quilted in. A piece of one of his remaining shirts. Something their guildmates had hidden from Ari for 2 years before finding a good use for it.

Ari had cried. They’d cried so hard it hurt. They thought the one shirt of Antonio’s that they had saved was the last remaining piece. But to think that Otter demanded another shirt be saved just for them. It broke their heart.

They walked over to the quilt now, running a hand along the dark fabric of the shirt. It was moments like these where Ari desperately missed the guild. The comradery was all-consuming. The guild was their family. Sure, they knew other factions weren’t like that, close-knit and tied together. But Otter made sure that his faction of the greater adventurer’s guild remained a home for those who were lost and weary. It accepted everyone, regardless of background. 

When they had walked into the guild, explaining who they were and where they had come from, Otter had welcomed them with open arms. He and the others had immediately gotten their pronouns right after the first and only time Ari sheepishly had to correct Otter’s accidental misgendering. Anyone who didn’t comply after that got corrected by Antonio. A solid hit on the head with his wooden training sword did the trick. Ari was forever grateful to the men of the guild who treated them as an equal, never questioning their ability. Well, Antonio had questioned their ability up until the very end, but Antonio never really trusted anyone to do, well, anything.

A loud pounding on the door drew Ari from their thoughts. They weren’t expecting someone tonight. Maybe it was Celine with a new book recommendation? Ari hoped not through. The path down to the farm was way too dark to be walking alone. Not to mention all the roots that had yet to be pulled out. They really needed to get on that. Ari added it to their mental list.

They opened the door, expecting to find Celine with a warm smile and a book in hand. But instead, March loomed just outside the door, face clearly red despite the dim lighting.

“What did you do,” March demanded, fists clenched at his sides.

“Huh?” Ari looked up at the man, blinking a few times as their eyes adjusted to the darkness around him.

“What did you fucking do?” 

What did they do? Nothing seemed to come to mind. “I don’t know what you are talking about, March.”

“The rain, the fucking rain, Ari! I know you did it!” March was yelling, his voice echoing through the farm. Ah, the rain. This was about the rain they’d summoned. The rain they had summoned at just the right moment to spite him.

“Whatever do you mean?” Ari smirked. If he wanted to see what real ‘capital scum’ could do, then he was about to see it. With all the targets they’d seduced on jobs before, ha. If mother had taught them one thing, it was how to eat a man alive from the inside. To make him fall, to beg.

“You…” March started. “I was at the forge. I know you planned it.”

“Planned what?” Ari reigned their voice in. Made it drip like liquid gold.

“The rain!” He threw up his hands in the air. “Don’t play dumb!”

“Apologize,” Ari commanded, tone simple and matter of fact.

“What?!” March lowered his hands clenching his fists at his side again, eyes narrowing.

“Apologize to me.” Ari crossed their arms, squaring up with March despite the height difference.

“Why the hell would I do that?!”

“Well,” they started. “If you don’t want a rainstorm rolling in right when you are in the middle of forging every few days…it might be a wise idea.” A smug smile tugged at Ari’s lips. Sure, their plan was seeping through at the moment, like light through a cracked door. But it was thrilling to get this rise out of March. To get back at him for all he had said.

“Fucking mage,” March spat.

Ari rolled their eyes and shrugged, starting to close the door.

“Wait!” March shoved his boot in the door, preventing it from closing all the way.

Ari opened the door back up and stared at him expectantly. “Yes, March?”

“I knew you were wearing a mask! There is no way someone can be that bright and bubbly all the time! You’re just capital sc-”

Ari knocked March’s boot out of the door and went to close it again.

“I’m sorry, ok?!”

Ari opened the back up this time to its full width. “For what,” they asked, tone sickly sweet, dripping with desire. All according to plan.

Ari watched as March seemed to shiver. “F-for…augh!” March ran his hands through his hair before taking and breath and composing himself. “I’m sorry for being rude.”

“Thank you March, that’s very kind of you, I accept your apology.” Ari made sure to slap on their polite capital smile for good measure. Mission success.

“Fuck you.” March huffed and turned away, starting the walk back to Mistira. Ari watched as he trekked off. And they couldn’t help but laugh gleefully as March tripped over one of the exposed roots on the path. He looked back and threw up his middle finger before disappearing into the night.

“Have a good night,” Ari called, raising their middle finger in response.

The moment they shut the door, they collapsed on the floor, a weeping mess. They felt it instantly. All the grossness that was the mask they wore in the capital. The mask their mother had taught them to wear. To be more assertive. To be more domineering. To win against the women who they competed with. To secure a man. How easily they had let that mask slip back into place.

Ari wasn’t like that. Not anymore. Sure, for jobs? They could summon it up, the seductive glances, the honey that dripped from their lips. Ari had captured many men before that way. But it wasn’t them, not anymore. They’d washed themselves clean of it years ago, vowing to change who they were at their core. Allowing themselves to be them. Who they really were.

Slick had always described them as kind and spirited. Guardian as sweet and sensitive. Ginko as hardworking and airheaded. And Otter as clumsy and overeager to please. All those were true, Ari knew. They’d become someone different. But the way they had played the part so easily, the way they had challenged March, it made them sick.

‘Happy birthday to me’ Ari thought. ‘Happy birthday to the piece of capital scum.’

----------

The next morning, Ari awoke to find a new letter in their mailbox. Hopefully not from March again. The letter was unaddressed from the sender. They brought it into the cabin and sat down to read it. Could it be from someone in the guild? It would make sense that way seeing as it was unaddressed. They read the words slowly.

Princess,

I’ll be stopping by in a few weeks to check on you. I’ll arrive on Summer 14. I’ve already sent a letter to Adeline and she will secure me a room at the inn. All I need from you is a willing attitude and a listening ear. You better not be slacking off. That is not a warning, it is a threat.

Otter

Ari practically squealed with delight, kicking their feet. Otter was coming! They were going to see Otter! They’d get to introduce him to the town. They’d get to show him Mistria. Ari walked outside and looked over the farm, deflating. Shit. The farm. They had cleaned it a little bit. Just enough to have a functional patch to farm on and a clear area around Caldarus’ statue. Sure, they were also clearing land for a barn after having helped fix the mill, but it was slow going.

Ari had some work to do.

----------

Author's Note:

Hey y’all! Shimmer here! I had fun with this one. So much fun. March and Ari’s fight was the first thing I wrote. It’s good to see Ari fighting back instead of being passive for once. There’s a lot to their backstory and I keep finding out more about it the more I write. I’m super excited for the next chapter. It’s not what I was expecting to happen at all. See you then! Thanks for reading! <3

[ashes0909]

For the writing prompts: 7 or 27 or 29 lol. Clint/Bucky or Steve/Tony?? <3

I missed my Stony loves, so I chose to do #27 for them. Thank you so much for sending in the prompt - I apologize in advance for how ridiculous this turned out.

-----

“I am eating bread and crying on the floor.”

Steve/Tony; Rated M

Tony pushed Steve back against the elevator wall, doing his best impression of a rock climber. Except Steve was the hard (heh) rock and Tony had put his climbing ax into him--Steve’s lips crashed against his own, mercifully ending the horribly conceived metaphor Tony’s lust-addled mind had pieced together.

Steve’s hands were so large, easily wrapping around Tony’s ass and lifting him so that he didn’t have to climb at all. Tony just wrapped his legs around his impossibly slim waist and his arms around his impossibly wide shoulders and kissed him hard and thoroughly.

The elevator dinged, and Steve carried him blindly through the compound, presumably through the common area towards his rooms. It wasn’t until Steve paused and made a squeaking noise against Tony’s lips, that he even registered anything from his surroundings.

Apparently, the rest of the Avengers were throwing a party. A loud one. Natasha and Bruce were behind the bar, Natasha showing off some spinning trick with a mixer shaker and Bruce staring at her with adoring eyes. Across the bar, Thor occupied two separate barstools, banging a wooden pint jug on the counter, bellowing, “Another!” and finding it hilariously amusing.

Around the side of the bar, Darcy and Clint appeared to be playing some game that involved dice and a pyramid of cups. Darcy stood on the couch, laughing, while Clint sat on the floor between the sofa and the coffee table, crying.

Neither Steve nor Tony uttered a word, yet suddenly, every pair of eyes flew onto them as they detangled from each other.

“I guess this is one way to tell them we’re dating,” Steve whispered in Tony’s ear.

Thor slammed a fist onto the bar. “Dating! Cheers my friends!”

Natasha laughed joyously, wrapping an arm around Bruce’s shoulders. “Is this when we pretend we didn’t know?”

“I think so,” Bruce replied.

Somehow, from somewhere, Darcy found a loaf of bread and was launching it at Clint. “Congratulations, amigos!” she shouted as she balled up another piece of bread and pitched it at Clint’s cheek. It bounced off his skin and landed on the floor.

Clint picked it up and stuffed the bread into his mouth. “I am eating bread and crying on the floor, but I’m super happy for you guys.”

“Um, thanks everyone,” Steve replied, sliding his hand into Tony’s. “We’re very happy.”

“And horny--”

“Tony!”

“What, these goofs know about horniness.”

“Absolutely!” Darcy shouted, upending the rest of the loaf onto Clint’s head. “Go off and multiply.”

“Multiply!” Thor banged his jug on the bar again.

Steve tugged Tony’s hand towards his bedroom.

“Have fun guys!” Natasha called out, focus turned back to the mixer.

Clint lifted his head from the carpet, sniffling through the last remnants of his tears. “Want some bread?”

Steve laughed until Tony looked like he was going to walk back towards their friends for some bread. Then he was pulling Tony back into his arms. “Come--”

“Snack later!” Darcy jumped from the couch to the coffee table. “Multiply first!”

“You heard the lady,” Steve whispered into Tony’s ear.

“Okay, but no crying.” Tony smirked. “Unless it's in a kinky way.”

[decafdino]

Get to know your fic authors

tagged by @lemonlyman-dot-com, thank you so much!

When did you post your first ever fanfic?

Good lord, some time in 2018 (I believe it was may)

First character(s) you wrote for:

Gavin Reed and Nines (Upgraded RK800) both are from Detroit: Become Human (which I uh.... orphaned from my account because my old fics gave me the ick)

Main character(s) you’re currently writing for:

Carlos Reyes, TK Strand

Character(s) you haven’t written about before but plan on writing about soon:

My blorbos continue to be TK and Carlos, but I really like writing Carlos & Gabriel because I think there's so much fic potential there

Fandom(s) you’re currently writing for:

9-1-1: Lone Star

Platonic pairing(s) you currently write for:

Carlos and the 126 (in particular Paul & Carlos)

Tarlos and their parents... just so much to unpack there and I love it

Romantic pairing(s) you currently write for:

Tarlos

Your top 3 tags on AO3 (if you post your works on AO3):

Whump, Kidnapping, Hurt Carlos Reyes

Your current platform where you post your works:

Ao3

Snippet of the wip you’re currently working on:

"So…you really don't come from the Wilds?"

TK forces a smile for what feels like the millionth time tonight. Around him, the town orchestra swells its sound, and men and women dance joyously across the ballroom. He'd prefer to be on the floor with the rest of them, most likely making a fool out of himself, rather than stay here and dodge question after question.

"I'm afraid not," he says.

"You're sure?" the woman, some special guest of the clergy, pushes. She has on a ridiculously large hat with the bright tail feather of some exotic bird sticking out.

"I believe one would know if one spent their childhood in a completely different realm." Carlos appears at his side, and TK's knees could buckle then and there in relief. He nods at the woman. "Lady Veronica," he says cordially.

She smiles, and it's all teeth. "Is that you, Sir Reyes? Oh, how long it's been."

"Yes, it has," he replies. He takes another step between her and TK, redirecting their conversation. "I see that you've been well."

"Your father simply goes on and on about you, you know? We're all so very happy for your opportunity to go on this little…" She looks him up and down, almost like a predator in disgust of its emaciated prey, "…excursion."

"Speaking of my father, he's been looking for you. He needs to discuss some dates with you and your husband." He's fully blocking her off from TK.

Thankfully, she seems delighted by the prospect of blabbing passive aggressively to the general, and it doesn't take much more coaxing to get her sauntering off. TK's shoulders fall. "I thought she'd never leave," he groans.

"Quite a character, isn't she?"

He smirks. "You two seem to have some history."

"She always suspected me of courting her son."

"And did you?" TK asks a little too quickly for someone trying to be as nonchalant as he is.

Carlos shrugs. "She never had any proof." He leans in and whispers, "and neither do you."

leaving an open tag for anyone that wants it! Tag me back please :)

[lovelovekill101]

Just waiting for that day when I’m not being tortured and ya I get that to chime in and follow on this one improv impromptu garbage shitysbinola mime troupe proving that there is no reason for style and subtle nuance the theater the stage was pure mind control from a god of absolute control where there is no doubt and no reason ever to think that everything isn’t exactly perfect . And I want to do that for well you know Ellie Lauren and Jude I’m not de 9ning you oh that hurts I’m not though and I think you get now how much harder things are for me and ummm how cruel it is to judge me when you see just how hard I work ten times as hard just to get it wrong but then it really is all mine and no one likes right and I know you get it but also how that’s the very thing that also damm near drove you to abort me a few decades past the trimester the ambilical cord was even sexy the faintest breeze would have my royal cock thug thumping against my whon forehead and still it would be burned into torment and I ridicule love itself all we e ever known of love and we deserved to know so much more but don’t flatter me I’ve kept a good head on my shoulders through a life time of betrayal but it did hurt cause I just I don’t know I don’t talk to myself the same way others do I’m kinder I believe and no need to expose and tear at with my unruly senses you know and if you don’t just use me I’m here for ya I pray you find contentment with our life you know the more you love the more you love kinda like you just choose to find joy in something and it opens unfurls like the sails on a big wooden ship out on the bay taking on a life of there own like body surfing in the Stimson beach surf it has a way of growing around you when you get in it like living in a boat at the end of c dock the bay lifting and rippling joyously around us bursting into magic with the magic of the moment I hope we keep making magic and loving it for the simple joy of the moment in life it is those moments that are everything and so wondrous I call em magic we have so catching up to do but moments don’t work that that so I’m worried are you